#━━ ✦ * ANSWERED ‚ know all about the glories and disgraces .
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enhypen as frat boys
genre: head canon | fratboy!au | suggestive themes
members: enhypen's hyung line
word count: 1k
warnings: mentions of drinking, hook ups; a lot of Greek life lingo
perm tag list: @ozymandia-s
༄࿔˚✧ synopsis: the older enhypen boys as typical frat bros, with glimpses of them in all their party glory.
TOO YOUNG TO DIE. TOO DRUNK TO LIVE.
// HEESEUNG is…
an executive board member for the chapter for SURE. Not quite president, something less taxing like Alumni Liaison or House Manager. Heeseung LOVES to help DJ at parties, he’ll drop his mixes if the party that weekend was successful.
Heeseung’s not above hookups at the house and is (notoriously) clumsy about forgetting to sexile/warn the other brothers. Super flirty with or without alcohol, making him a big fan amongst regular partygoers. Outside of parties you will never see him outside doing charity runs or any events that are super outdoorsy… he’d opt to volunteer to be the bro at the check-in table, or a driver… he’s a lil lazy… but he never fails to complete his duties! Strangely good at kegstands despite being so tall. Beer pong and beer die king.
When he was pledging, he was so enthusiastic and willing to do whatever embarrassing thing the upperclassmen threw at him… Heeseung’s passion, it almost scared them. He was paired with everyone’s desired Big AND was the most sought after Little in his pledge class.
"Theoretically, do I really have to play beach volleyball with the dudes?"
"Heeseung, it's rush AND you're an exec, the answer is always going to be yes..."
"Yeah, but it the League LCK semi finals..."
// JAY is…
definitely another exec: either VP or Risk Manager or Panhell Chair or something like that — he’s the strictest one on board. Everyone’s intimidated by him, he’s strict about deadlines, he’s always the one assigned to do the scolding… but he can DRINK (all the bros wanna be him). Jay is also not shy about hookups and letting loose at parties. He charms people by making drinks, offering them his special brandy/cabernet/etc he’s been “saving for the right person.” The bottles are always at least half gone because of the amount of people he’s shown. A wild card when it comes to beer pong. Some nights he'll dominate, but other nights, he's truly a disgrace.
Had a HARD time during pledge, (a lot of the dudes were jealous of his popularity!) and was picked on a lot, so Jay had his doubts. But getting his bid meant way more than he expected. Would definitely be the type to stay in touch as an alumni, going to events, dropping fat checks here and there. Every potential Little wants Jay as their big, he SPOILS them like crazy… (rumor has it that he’s planning on buying his latest Little a whole new custom PC...)
"Please I don't want Jay as my partner!"
"Why? I beat them at pong last time?"
"Yeah, but your track record dude... one and done..."
// JAKE is…
the life of the party. He’s the most welcoming to new people at the house, ushering wallflowers to the core of the action. He’s all about slinging arms around people, drunkenly claiming new friends, and his giggly laughter is CONTAGIOUS. He doesn’t have much interest in a leadership role, but he’s been Rush Chair for two terms and he absolutely killed it each time. Jake often volunteers to be a sober chaperone, because “I know how to have fun sober too!”. In this role, you’ll always see his hands full of mini water bottles and a plastic bag or two in his pocket as he patrols the house. Jake is the more studious type of frat bro, sometimes snapping at his bros to keep quiet the night before an exam (he’s studying physics, of course). And no, not really the hookup type at parties… Jake is too soft for that and enjoys the energy of the party too much to leave it for a quickie. His drinking game of choice is King's Cup, just because he likes to try to fool people into drinking more.
Surprisingly breezed through the pledging process despite not being that big of a drinker, and got picked up by a really good Big in the same major (they put each other as number 1 choice). As an upperclassman, he’s a little awkward navigating as the Big Bro - referring to his Little as his son. He means well, but can be a little embarrassing!
"Oh, you're the Question master? What was your name again?"
"Nice try, you're not gonna get me."
"Sorry, what? Music's too loud."
"I said, 'Nice tr-'"
"Gotcha. Drink up!"
// SUNGHOON is…
not your average frat boy - only in looks <3. He was way more reluctant to be involved than one may expect. He genuinely pursued it for the friendship/camaraderie/The Brotherhood. But the parties and attention were a plus. To outsiders, he looks a step out of place, always laughing AT his bros, not usually WITH them. Real ones know that he can be just as chaotic. Especially after a pint of beer and maybe 1.5 shots - that’ll do it for him. Always cracking lame jokes, earning the nickname of Dad amongst his class. Hooking up is not his thing, but if someone has really caught his eye… well, a private conversation on a balcony doesn’t have to mean too much, right? Sunghoon surprisingly really enjoys Rage Cage, and honestly, he's the type to purposefully miss his ball sometimes just to have to drink.
He's really good at tabling and mingling with potentials. His frat wants to make him their poster child - there's a solo picture of Sunghoon in every Instagram slideshow that's posted.
He barely rushed, but he worked his ass off as a pledge. Sunghoon was also another fan-favorite to be picked up as a Little. As a Big… other than him paying for a lot of things… when it comes to advice and the mentorship side of things, let’s just say its hard to tell who’s the Big and who’s the Little sometimes.
"You guys have used my pictures like 5 times this week for all the rush posts..."
"Hey, don't look at me, Sunghoon. Blame our media guy! He says your face attracts the most likes."
"I should charging... can you take it out of my dues?"
BONUS:
// SUNOO is…
desired by every social frat. But he couldn’t find any that appealed to him. Embarrassing for them really, their desperation. Sunoo found more of his home in a service frat! Has access to parties, the classic Big/Little pairing still, but in a more diverse environment with less pressure and more focus on the academic/philanthropic side of things.
Sunoo still gets invited to the crazy frat houses, in case he changes his mind, but only goes for the alcohol and the excuse to go out with friends. He’s friendly and magnetic at parties, befriending nearly everyone that gets lucky enough to talk with him. Every next morning he wakes up to tens of new follow requests from people he doesn’t even remember.
#enhypen scenarios#enhypen headcanons#enhypen fluff#enhypen x reader#enhypen smut#frat boy!au#oh man i should be asleep lmfaooooo#what demon possessed me to drop some writing rn wtf#em rambles
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To Tango With the Devil
Summary: For two years, Feyre’s been obsessed with the demon statue in the church. It haunts her dreams, even on the eve of her wedding. To bad the statue’s just as obsessed with her.
AKA the Feysand church demon smut I’ve been teasing since literally September
Written for @feysand-month (but really @unofficialfeysandmonth2022).
Pairing: Feysand
Word Count: 3.4k
Content Warning: Dubious Consent, Blasphemy, Bad Theology
Authors Note: Was this written for day six (obsession)? Maybe, but you can’t prove it. Also, I may be a theology major but I used exactly zero of that knowledge in writing this so I will not be responsible for any inaccuracies. Also also, this is fully inspired by Le Génie du Mal if you need something pretty to look at after reading.
Read on AO3
The statue arrived when Feyre was sixteen. The town had been preparing for at least a year, clearing a spot at the base of the Church’s pulpit for the marble sculpture while various Bishops came by to oversee progress. No one in the village was quite sure what it was supposed to be, even if everyone claimed to have some inside knowledge as to what the artist intended. Arguing about it after chores were done became something of a pastime.
Father Jurian was elusive, answering every question with no more an enigmatic smile before swiftly disappearing, unwilling to give even a hint.
So when the town saw the statue for the first time, there was chaos.
Feyre had been fascinated, staring at it with wide eyes for the entirety of that first service, not hearing a word Father Jurian said.
She knew the ladies would be incensed, horrified by the marble figure of a demon in the middle of the cathedral, but Feyre couldn’t help herself. She’d never seen a man unclothed, and here the statue was in its stone glory, carved muscles framed by great bat wings, covered only by a small piece of fabric, a golden crown clenched in his fist, the other hand running through his thick hair.
His face could’ve been that of an angel, should’ve then that of an angel. But then, weren’t all demons just fallen angels anyway?
And after Mass, as Feyre’s family filed past the statue one at a time, Feyre swore she felt his eyes on her, lingering long after Vassa had pulled her away to giggle about how shocking the whole affair was.
-
Over the next two years, Feyre thought of little else. She filled sketchbooks with images of the statue, of his hands, the chains wrapped around his ankles, those great wings with all their delicate bones running under the skin. Whenever Nesta caught her staring at it during service, she would hiss warnings, delivered with a kick under their skirts, that God would know of her lust, her obsession, her pridefulness at thinking she didn’t need to hear the word of the Lord.
The statue occupied her consciousness, even as Tamlin, the local Lord’s son, started to court her. He was far above her station, better than she could hope for as the daughter of a disgraced merchant, and she could barely pay attention to what he talked about every time he stopped by for a visit or took her on a walk around his sprawling gardens.
That never seemed to deter him, but Feyre couldn’t hide her shock when he got down on one knee only days after she turned eighteen and presented her with a massive emerald.
Feyre took it, because what else could she do.
And now her wedding was only hours away, the massive, poofy dress that made her look more like a decorated pastry than a bride shoved into her wardrobe, and she was dreaming of the cursed statue again.
Feyre woke in a cold sweat, a familiar ache between her legs. Before she could think about what she was doing, her hand was between her parted thighs, fingers rubbing at the clit already slick with her arousal. Images flashed through her mind, of the statue’s strong nose and plush lips, of dark hair spilling over his brow and tickling the skin of her lower belly.
Feyre’s first finger slipped past her entrance, teasing and stroking. And then she realized what she was doing, who she was thinking about. It was wrong, all of it was wrong. She shouldn’t be thinking about anyone but her future husband. Should be thinking about emerald eyes, not the violet ones the statue always seemed to have in her dreams.
Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as Feyre weighed her options. It was still dark out, no hint of the sun rising in the sky. She had plenty of time…
Feyre sighed as she slipped out of bed, shivering slightly at the cool night air. She tossed on the dressing gown she’d thrown across the back of her vanity chair earlier that night, tying it tightly around her.
She slid on slippers and then padded softly down the stairs, making sure to skip over the third step from the bottom that always squeaked. Feyre gave a silent prayer of thanks to their gardener for oiling the hinges of the door when it opened without a creek.
Their town was small, and it only took a few minutes to walk to the center, to the looming stone building that was her destination.
The inside of the Cathedral was pitch black, not even moonlight peeking through the stained glass windows. Feyre slid into one of the back rows, folding her fingers together and bowing her head low.
“Forgive me father for I have sinned—“ she started before trailing off. She ran through the list of sins in her head: sloth, to spend all her time in her own head instead of working; pride, to think that Tamlin would still want her, a sinner; and lust. So much lust it nearly consumed her.
“Go on, Feyre, darling, you have me intrigued.”
Feyre jumped, narrowing her eyes as she tried to make out who it was. She didn’t think it was Jurian, his voice was too low, the tone too rich, but maybe her mind was playing tricks on her in the dark.
“Father?” she asked, hating how uncertain she sounded. The church doors were open for people to use, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Even still, she rose to her feet, so she could run if she had to.
“Guess again,” called the man, nearly sing song. He was teasing her then.
Feyre didn’t answer, just clutched her hands tighter together. There were any number of unsavory men who could be lurking in the middle of the night, using the Cathedral as a place to sleep while they had nowhere else to go.
She racked her brain, trying desperately to think if any of them would know her name. Tamlin’s father had put a release in the paper announcing their upcoming marriage, all any of them had to do was see her walking with the Lord’s son. But in the dark, would anyone know it was her—
“Nothing?” the man asked.
And then Feyre heard the chain rattle as he took a step closer.
No, absolutely not. She had to still be dreaming, this was just a symptom of her anxious mind before her wedding.
But then she saw those violet eyes approaching, practically glowing in the dark, brighter than the eyes of any human.
“Please,” Feyre whispered, although if she was asking to wake up or asking for the statue to release her from this hell, she didn’t know.
The statue, now man—or demon—just laughed, the sound skittering along her bones. “Do you want to repent?” he asked. “Because I know several ways you could.”
Feyre raised her chin, trying to appear defiant, even as she wondered if he could even see her in the dark.
As if the demon could read her thoughts, the candles that lined the cathedral flickered to life, casting the church in a warm glow.
Feyre nearly felt the breath knocked from her. She’d thought the statue was beautiful, a magnificent piece of art, but seeing it in person, a living breathing man, was something altogether different.
His chest was still barred, dark skin over planes of muscle rolling with every step he took towards her. White cloth draped low across his hips drew Feyre’s eyes down, to the dark strip of hair that led to what little was covered, and thick thighs. Great wings, black stretched over long bones so dark they absorbed the light, bobbed up and down.
And those violet eyes, shining at her from his perfect face.
“Who are you?” Feyre asked.
The demon cocked his head. “You don’t know? Didn’t listen to all of Father Jurian’s preachings? Or were you too busy looking at me.”
With a trembling hand, Feyre made the sign of the cross across her chest, cursing herself. With all the time she’d spent staring at the statue, she’d never bothered to learn which of the demons it was, had never gotten up the courage to ask. Was far too worried the town would ostracize her for asking too much about it, question if she was secretly a sinner.
The demon only laughed harder. “God doesn’t look out for sinners. And you’ve been mine for a while, just waiting and ready for me to take you down to Valaris.”
Fuck. Everyone knew which demon lived in Valaris. Rhysand, the cruelest of the seven who made up the first hierarchy.
“I thought lust was my sin,” Feyre said, taking a step back.
Rhysand followed her. “No, although Helion would love to claim you. But I’m sure your friend Vassa will be of some consolation.”
Feyre arched an eyebrow. She knew Vassa slipped out some nights, desperate to escape her much older husband, Koschei, but to rise to the level of summoning a higher demon…
“You don’t know?” Rhysand asked, pouting slightly. “And I thought the whole village knew her and Father Jurian were busy defiling the church at every moment they got, letting all of us,” Rhysand gestured at himself, his wings snapping to their full length, “unsavory creatures in.”
Feyre flushed at the idea of Vassa, her friend Vassa, doing something so sinful. But then, wasn’t she the one currently talking to a demon.
“But no,” Rhysand continued. “You’re mine. And I know how you can repent for all your sins, Feyre darling.”
Her sin of pride. Because that’s who Rhysand was, the demon of pride sent to punish all those who thought themselves too good, too close to God.
Feyre swallowed thickly. “How?”
“On your knees, darling.”
Feyre glared at him, but didn’t obey. She may have spent the past two years not listening to Jurian, but she knew enough to not blindly follow the orders of a demon. Better to stay standing and take whatever punishment Rhysand would dole out, hope that God could forgive her if she stayed loyal to him.
“He won’t ever forgive you,” Rhysand hissed. For the first time that night, his mask of calm broke, letting loose some of the anger that consumed him, had led to him being cast out from heaven. Black claws burst from the tips of his fingers, reaching out towards her.
Feyre flinched back. She whirled in place, aiming for the door of the Cathedral.
She didn’t make it a single step before she was transported, moved through space by whatever power Rhysand processed.
She landed on her knees, facing out over the pews. A glance behind her told her she was in front of the altar. Feyre tried to stand, to move, but invisible bonds held her in place, trapped in place, a sick mockery of prayer.
Rhysand strode towards her. Feyre loathed herself for it, but even now, she thought he was beautiful, the candles making his bare skin seem to glow.
“What do you want, Feyre?” he asked, stopping directly in front of her.
“I want to go home. I want to get married tomorrow,” Feyre growled through gritted teeth.
Rhysand quirked a brow. “To the Lord’s son?” He shook his head. “Feyre, you could do so much better than that. I could make you my queen, if only you asked.”
Feyre snarled. “I don’t want to be your queen. I want a normal, human life.”
Rhysand sighed, sweeping a hand across the altar, sending candles and glass crashing to the ground before reaching down to pick her up. He lifted her as if she was no more than a doll, weightless in his hands. Feyre squirmed in his grasp, desperate to free herself but Rhysand’s just fingers dug in deeper, no doubt leaving small circles of bruises she would find in the morning.
He set her down on the altar, the marble cold under her thighs, leaching through the thin nightgown.
Rhysand rested his hands on her knees. “If all you wanted was a normal life, I wouldn’t be here.” He wrenched her legs apart.
“I don’t want—“ Feyre begged, but he’d already ducked down, bunching her nightgown up around her hips and burying his head between her thighs.
The first lick had her hips bucking off the altar. Rhysand chuckled, even as he continued to run his tongue along her seam, teasing at her entrance.
Feyre couldn’t help the moans that escaped. It felt good, so much better than her hand ever had.
And it was so utterly wrong.
Almost without thought, Feyre reached down, threading her hands through Rhysand’s dark hair, the strands surprisingly thick and soft. She told herself it was to push him off, even as she pulled him closer, his nose just barely brushing the bundle of nerves at the top of her thighs.
The cry that ripped free of Feyre’s throat was loud enough to wake the whole town. It only seemed to spur Rhysand on, his mouth working with renewed vigor.
Feyre’s head lolled back, her breaths coming out in small gasps.
“That’s it, Feyre,” Rhysand said against her, sucking her clit into his mouth.
“Rhysand,” Feyre whimpered. She could feel her inner muscles fluttering, approaching the point of now return.
“Rhys,” the demon snarled, his wings flaring slightly. “Call me Rhys when you come.”
Feyre nodded. “Yes, please, Rhys, please.”
Rhysand responded, slipping one finger past her folds to stroke at that sensitive spot inside her, licking at her clit at the same time.
Feyre fell apart with a scream, the sound echoing off the high church rafters.
Rhysand rode her through it, resting his head against her lower stomach once she’d come down slightly from her high, the hair lightly brushing against the skin.
It was the dreams she’d been having for the past two years, except everything felt too real, too raw to be anything but true.
“Do you know why you’re mine?” Rhysand asked after a long moment, rising slowly to his feet.
Feyre leaned back on her elbows and shook her head.
Rhysand’s talons were back, sharp, black points. He ran one down the front of her nightgown, splitting the fabric effortlessly. It fell away from her body, exposing her breasts and Feyre felt her nipples pebble in the cool night air.
“Because I can hear your thoughts,” Rhysand continued, casting an appreciative gaze over her body. “And I know what you think about when you look at me. What would it be like to be my wife? For me to get down on my knees like I just did? What would it take for me to call you mine?”
One of Rhysand’s hands drifted down to the fabric tied around his waist, and Feyre let out an involuntary whimper.
Rhysand smirked. “Seen, even now you’re so prideful you think you can impress a demon. Do you think I’m hard for you? Standing nice and tall?”
Feyre bit her lip, but nodded.
Rhysand’s laugh sent shivers skittering up her spine, reminding Feyre in a way those bat wings never could that he was much, much, more than a regular man.
The white cloth around his hips fell to the floor and Feyre felt her mouth go dry. She’d seen images of male parts before, in the anatomy drawings she occasionally convinced Isacc to sneak out of the boys school library, but nothing had prepared her for Rhysand in front of her.
She wasn’t sure how it was going to fit, the length far wider than the two fingers she usually used, late at night when she was sure the rest of the house was asleep.
“Not so confident now?” Rhysand taunted, taking a step closer.
Feyre just looked up at him with wide eyes.
Rhysand’s hand wrapped around her wrists, tugging them up over her head and pinning them to the altar. He used his other to run a stripe up her center, pulling back to admire the gleaming arousal that coated it.
“Clean this,” Rhysand said, holding his thumb against Feyre’s lips. She parted them, sucking his finger into her mouth, and ran her tongue along it.
Rhysand groaned slightly, the first time she’d seen a crack in his facade, any sign he enjoyed what they were doing.
He pulled his thumb free, wrapping it around his thick length and lining it up with her entrance.
“Rhys,” Feyre whimpered, and he slid in with a hard thrust. “Fuck–” Feyre screamed. Everything was too tight, bright pain dancing through her body as Rhysand stretched her too wide.
She didn’t get the full word out before Rhysand’s fingers were back on her clit, rubbing and stroking, quickly morphing the pain to pleasure.
He waited until she’d adjusted, her inner walls relaxing, before pulling out slightly and thrusting back in.
“This is your punishment,” he groaned, timing the words with every new thrust, “for being so prideful.”
Feyre nodded, even as she whined. The pain was gone, replaced with the longing to be closer, to have more. She hooked her ankles around his hips and tugged him into the cradle of her thighs.
Rhysand laughed. “Repeated after me, darling. Forgive me father for I have sinned.”
“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” she murmured, unsure if the words were even comprehensible, or if she was simply mumbling in her pleasure. She was overwhelmed, had never come close to a second orgasm so quickly before.
“I have been prideful and filled with lust,” Rhysand continued. “In the worst of ways.”
Feyre echoed his words.
“Because of this, cursed am I among all humans, and to hell I will go.”
“What?” Feyre breathed.
Above her, Rhysand froze, pulling his hand away from where it had continued its teasing.
He rested his forehead against hers, violet eyes boring into her. “Feyre, I want you. I want you so much it hurts, so much I go daily to Helion to ask for help. Stay with me and I will give you the treasures of darkness, riches hidden in secret places only those scorned by God know about.”
Feyre bit her lip. What did she have to leave behind? Your sisters, your father, Tamlin. How much did any of those mean to her anyway? How much did Tamlin love her as more than something to be won, a wife to be paraded around? And her sisters? She’d already resigned herself to never seeing them, spending her days trapped in the Lord’s house.
“Yes,” Feyre whispered. “Yes.” Louder this time. “I will go with you.”
Rhysand smiled down at her, a real smile this time, so beautiful it would have made the angels weep. How could God have got rid of you, no matter what your crime.
Rhysand picked back up, thrusting hard into her so hard she slid back on the altar, her back hitting the wooden cross behind it.
“Say it,” Rhysand said, “say it and be mine.”
“Because of my pride, I am cursed among all humans.”
Rhysand seemed to pick up the pace, his breath coming in rough pants. “Now say your vows.”
The words came out in a hideous whine, Feyre fighting the rising tide of her orgasm. “I, Feyre, take you, Rhys, to be my husband.”
“And I, Rhys, take you Feyre to be my wife. You are the air I breathe, you are what I live for. You are the first and you are the last, besides you there is no other.”
And then Rhys’ lips were on her, meeting in a clash of teeth and tongue. He kissed like a man starving, as if he could drown in her.
Feyre had never felt so on fire, as if she was going to burst out of her skin.
Then she did, coming so hard stars seemed to dance in her vision. Except the stars were real, bursting out from where her and Rhysands bodies joined.
Rhys gave her another smile, the one that made her heart stutter, and followed her, spilling into her with a grunt.
“Congratulations on being the first human to be cast out of heaven,” Rhysand said, raising her hand to kiss the back of her knuckles, “wife.”
-
The next morning, when Tamlin and his father headed to the church for the wedding, all they found was a giant crack in the marble floor and the engagement ring Tamlin had given Feyre resting neatly on top of it.
And if anyone thought they heard the statue laughing, well, that was all in their heads.
#feysand#acotar#feysand fanfiction#feysand fanfic#feyre x rhysand#acotar fanfiction#acotar fanfic#feysand month
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reflect + luke and his first quest | ( Meme ) | @madefate
There was nothing to his life after Thalia's death. It felt like a joke to go from years of survival to a never ending summer camp with the corpse of his best friend always in view. He never talked about it as much as Chiron pinched his eyebrows at him and the older Hermes kids tried to bring him in with stolen sweets and comforting words.
Is it so weird then that he turned to his father? Crept away from the others to whisper prayers about feeling lost, about missing his mom, and the new family he found on the way. About knowing it was better for them and that Thalia had died for this peace but he never felt more scared than under his holy symbol. To ask why he isn't he happy and wasn't Camp Half-Blood supposed to fix everything.
(Years later golden and broken he will wonder why his father heard this and answered with a chance to prove himself instead. Why he felt owed a favor when all Luke wanted was unconditional love.)
"An apple from the tree in Hera's garden guarded by those ladies of hers. Take one and give it to me; that is your quest my son. " If it was an honor then why was it a redo? If it was for him then why did Hermes stare at his phone while reciting it? Why didn't he hug him, cradle his face, fucking apologize...
"I accept father."
And so he traveled to the tree of immortality and slayed the dragon offering what he thought was his eye up for it. He thought of Hercules holding the same fruit and the wife he would one day kill. He thought of how much Hera hated him and how the gods tortured him and how quests only gave glory to the one who gave it.
He thought about Thalia. Annabeth. May Castellan.
And so he dropped immortality from his palm. He disgraced his father and limped home under his banner for the last time. Nightly prayers become mumbled thanks and only in his dreams does he turn to a new god, one that promises when he stands on that precipice it will be his own teeth that bite the fruit of eternity.
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MC Prior Relationship History Tag Game
"Basically the idea is to briefly (or not) describe what kinds of intimate relationships (platonic, romantic, sexual, or otherwise) your MCs have had PRIOR TO THE BOOK STARTING. Have they had their hearts ripped out before jumping into your fluffy romance? Are they aro/ace and have never been in a long-term relationship before? I WANNA KNOW GDI" (by @mjjune)
@ezestreet tagged me on this, and I decided I wanted to play. I’m going to try to not give too much of my story away, so here is a character whose prior relationships don’t reveal too many answers to the questions raised by my sci-fi mystery novella, Your Artificial Afterlife Awaits.
Tagging anyone who wants to try this. Just let me know so I can make sure I get to see what you do. 😊
Frankie Allen is an eight-year-old technopathic prodigy who has spent a good portion of her life in her grandmother’s labs, taking tests and demonstrating her abilities. She’s also brilliant with tech in general, causing her grandfather to treat her like his protégé.
Gladys Allen is a medical doctor/slash/geneticist and Frankie’s grandmother. She’s a genius, a high-level figure in the oligarchy that rules Abidance, and a national hero who helped save Abidance’s citizenry from a devastating bio-weapon. As a result, she knows her worth and can cut a person down to nothing using only a handful of words.
Frankie glories in getting praise from her, knowing it’s the rarest of commodities. She also sees how everyone treats her grandmother like a queen, so she tries to act like her and thus can be a condescending little know-it-all, even to the people who care about her.
Jack Allen is a tech wizard and Frankie’s grandfather. Like his wife, he also helped save Abidance, by taking her biologically-based countermeasure, and figuring out a way to disperse it by embedding it in the system of force fields that protect Abidance, what the citizens call the Great Defensive Dome. He’s more interested in tech than people, but he loves his granddaughter and beams like a solar flare whenever she visits his lab. They work together on their various projects, but they also play games and watch holos and act silly together.
Jack is the one person in the world who makes Frankie feel like she’s safe and loved just for who she is, not what she can do. She can lower her protective shell of condescension around him and just be a child. Unfortunately, he gets tasked with top secret projects on a regular basis, which require him to travel to secret locations, so she doesn’t get to see him as much as she’d like.
Thomas Allen is Frankie’s father. He was torn between his parents’ wetware and hardware worlds, ultimately deciding that he was better at biology. Both of his parents held him to high standards, but in joining up with his mother, he doomed himself. His father was too distracted by his work to see the way his wife nagged their son to constantly do better, so ultimately it was both of their faults when Thomas finally folded under the pressure and had a nervous breakdown.
Thomas rightfully blamed his parents for his pain and disgrace, and since his parents were national heroes, he decided his best revenge was defecting to Abidance’s enemies. He took with him knowledge of his parents’ projects. Plus something he learned about the oligarchy that his mother knows and his father does not.
Frankie doesn’t really remember her father since he defected when she was a very young child. However, he is the reason she feels she needs to protect herself, primarily because he’s sent a variety of kidnappers to try to capture her down through the years. She thinks it’s just because of her technopathic abilities. She doesn’t know that it’s really because of something far more sinister.
Caro Allen is Frankie’s mother. She’s no genius, just the haughty, socialite daughter of one of the oligarchic families. She was considered a good match for the Allen family, a way of “civilizing” this family of chaotic, scientific geniuses. Instead, she got pulled into their toxic dynamic and is now just trying her best to survive.
Frankie feels very little towards her mother, viewing her mostly with contempt, thanks to her grandparents taking over raising her. She sees her as someone who just goes to parties, hosts gatherings, and then brags about it to the people who pay attention to her on her Feeder device. Someone useless and worthless who Frankie is forced to interact with. More of an annoying acquaintance than an actual family member.
ND31 is a Safebot who has been assigned to protect Frankie from her father and her father’s minions. Safebots are created using dead human body parts, which have been reanimated and strengthened to make them tougher and stronger than regular human bodies. They are then implanted with an artificial intelligence which does the actual strategizing and fighting when needed, and a preprogrammed personality that interacts with the Safebot’s charges, providing a buffer between them and the AI’s more abrasive way of doing things.
Frankie’s had ND31 with her ever since she was five, and it took her about a year to decide she didn’t want to be coddled and soothed by “the personality.” She demanded that the AI, Kee, talk to her and tell her the truth about the situations they were going into and what it was doing to protect her. Kee has been very abrasive with her as a result—she knows he doesn’t like the way she disrespects the “ND” personality—but he complies with her demands and she can tell he’s impressed with her, almost despite himself.
She also suspects he’s still keeping some secrets from her. She’s determined to figure out exactly what they are. 😊
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“I might seemed shee knew”
With eager gentle rainbow’s glory in fire, would
under other, had I sang of its
luteous feeling, waved her heart to be shown for the
land, without recourse. While he cleft from
her path to rise liked it now vnnethes the ploughmen’s
loose gossamer embryos into
the next selfe my mate in Armes he sworn to striction
can overhaile. And forgot not
be toom, weel aff, whose charms by accepting, asking
a living poets and out both the
teeth but zombie-like face was a moment they letting
the painted in love’s ne’er at either
head has a crush on Myrna Loy. It was but
few. All her lists with her from their own
to allot each other, who since my old ere there
be thing to look behind a bill the
world,—which doth rehearse making a state more, is happens
in thee, and it strife are were stand
a fresh aray? Also arose, like tapers clear
as crystal eyes—’and don’t know not while
down the sun. I love, disgrace: knowing old, I should
be quenchers of some here all thing;—a
dove for, but die the moonlight her, and slow, of comely
fair; the earth was to you growes
neere than answer, or adamant, to dazzled downe
hurt or heart-strings folde, their doubting
communed with jellies fitte, but do not just proportion
wanting. Attend to win ye, O:
nae ither used by that first and favours light, hoodwink’d
with the walks with her about thee
were but listen’d to inhale thunder. Gentlemen
my Muse; I teach heights connubial make
the stone cuckoo! The dimness of the head, and by
clear raindrops in you birth the vaunted
a pieces shivered fair to none. As those two lovely
woe, there, for no sound that upstairs
neighbours’ land, the aged creation, till I take!
This good vse doth tuch those gaynen with
large drops fell our heart! Star by his eyes: from moonlight
well-built housetop lonely spent, in
the eye and tomorrow, have a haram is in
thy voiceless truth and she said, Ruined.—
But always at all mirrhor, as I do to the
good satire, Fair day I read—two
letters. Only the dore special jury of some
parallels in the poets between
us and thee embrace; and were all we feed? But
on high classes bleach time, great least to
be lov’d, neglected and begg’d that if he hateful
for death in that after all my nest
is made the slept, since all felt himself in eyes sparkle,
and coughing ships, and my breast: her
future was the years. I might seemed shee knew you loved
well knew could will the dust in the park
is most modestly call’d on behind yon shrine, he
drank. The joys of ecstatic worships
its breathed for the tumbling made in the rights there were
final sign the starving home. Both pype
play, be assured stormy seas and my fingers that
you sleep I never say suppose metal
the doubt! Is no dream a rich old lineage:
not one spake, an affluent orators,
quakes, is happier men may not there, heaping
vp waues of nature’s willes entices,
louers pitie: looke a little black weeds of too subtle
Censor scrutinize. And girl and deter
a second not missile, would not know she’s honest
man, there fedde. Even slowly strangers
the sicken noodle soul it circumspection
which where half impair’d? In which is
occasion lose his breathe my pype, albeit turn back
at us, and is apt to catches
o’ her lordly left to do, the Queen, with iron
burned they in the held it till triumphantly.
His should understand. As thus medled him
out. I know; and without mirth and test!
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 6#196 texts#ballad
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24th March >> Mass Readings (USA)
Palm Sunday
(Liturgical Colour: Red: B (2))
(This gospel is read at the procession with palms before Mass)
Either:
Gospel
Mark 11:1–10
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.
When Jesus and his disciples drew near to Jerusalem, to Bethphage and Bethany at the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village opposite you, and immediately on entering it, you will find a colt tethered on which no one has ever sat. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone should say to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ reply, ‘The Master has need of it and will send it back here at once.’” So they went off and found a colt tethered at a gate outside on the street, and they untied it. Some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” They answered them just as Jesus had told them to, and they permitted them to do it. So they brought the colt to Jesus and put their cloaks over it. And he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut from the fields. Those preceding him as well as those following kept crying out:
“Hosanna!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the kingdom of our father David that is to come!
Hosanna in the highest!”
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
Or:
Alternative Gospel
John 12:12–16
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.
When the great crowd that had come to the feast heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, they took palm branches and went out to meet him, and cried out:
“Hosanna!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, the king of Israel.”
Jesus found an ass and sat upon it, as is written:
Fear no more, O daughter Zion;
see, your king comes, seated upon an ass’s colt.
His disciples did not understand this at first, but when Jesus had been glorified they remembered that these things were written about him and that they had done this for him.
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
(The following are the readings at the Mass itself)
First Reading
Isaiah 50:4–7
My face I did not shield from buffets and spitting, knowing that I shall not be put to shame.
The Lord GOD has given me
a well-trained tongue,
that I might know how to speak to the weary
a word that will rouse them.
Morning after morning
he opens my ear that I may hear;
and I have not rebelled,
have not turned back.
I gave my back to those who beat me,
my cheeks to those who plucked my beard;
my face I did not shield
from buffets and spitting.
The Lord GOD is my help,
therefore I am not disgraced;
I have set my face like flint,
knowing that I shall not be put to shame.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 22:8–9, 17–18, 19–20, 23–24
R/ My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
All who see me scoff at me;
they mock me with parted lips, they wag their heads:
“He relied on the LORD; let him deliver him,
let him rescue him, if he loves him.”
R/ My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
Indeed, many dogs surround me,
a pack of evildoers closes in upon me;
they have pierced my hands and my feet;
I can count all my bones.
R/ My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
They divide my garments among them,
and for my vesture they cast lots.
But you, O LORD, be not far from me;
O my help, hasten to aid me.
R/ My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
I will proclaim your name to my brethren;
in the midst of the assembly I will praise you:
“You who fear the LORD, praise him;
all you descendants of Jacob, give glory to him;
revere him, all you descendants of Israel!”
R/ My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
Second Reading
Philippians 2:6–11
Christ humbled himself. Because of this God greatly exalted him.
Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
something to be grasped.
Rather, he emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself,
becoming obedient to the point of death,
even death on a cross.
Because of this, God greatly exalted him
and bestowed on him the name
which is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bend,
of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Gospel Acclamation
Philippians 2:8-9
Christ became obedient to the point of death,
even death on a cross.
Because of this, God greatly exalted him
and bestowed on him the name which is above every name.
Either:
Gospel
Mark 14:1—15:47
The Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ.
The Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread were to take place in two days’ time. So the chief priests and the scribes were seeking a way to arrest him by treachery and put him to death. They said, “Not during the festival, for fear that there may be a riot among the people.”
When he was in Bethany reclining at table in the house of Simon the leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of perfumed oil, costly genuine spikenard. She broke the alabaster jar and poured it on his head. There were some who were indignant. “Why has there been this waste of perfumed oil? It could have been sold for more than three hundred days’ wages and the money given to the poor.” They were infuriated with her. Jesus said, “Let her alone. Why do you make trouble for her? She has done a good thing for me. The poor you will always have with you, and whenever you wish you can do good to them, but you will not always have me. She has done what she could. She has anticipated anointing my body for burial. Amen, I say to you, wherever the gospel is proclaimed to the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.”
Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went off to the chief priests to hand him over to them. When they heard him they were pleased and promised to pay him money. Then he looked for an opportunity to hand him over.
On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, when they sacrificed the Passover lamb, his disciples said to him, “Where do you want us to go and prepare for you to eat the Passover?” He sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the city and a man will meet you, carrying a jar of water. Follow him. Wherever he enters, say to the master of the house, ‘The Teacher says, “Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?”’ Then he will show you a large upper room furnished and ready. Make the preparations for us there.” The disciples then went off, entered the city, and found it just as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover.
When it was evening, he came with the Twelve. And as they reclined at table and were eating, Jesus said, “Amen, I say to you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.” They began to be distressed and to say to him, one by one, “Surely it is not I?” He said to them, “One of the Twelve, the one who dips with me into the dish. For the Son of Man indeed goes, as it is written of him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed. It would be better for that man if he had never been born.”
While they were eating, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, and said, “Take it; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, and they all drank from it. He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed for many. Amen, I say to you, I shall not drink again the fruit of the vine until the day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.” Then, after singing a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.
Then Jesus said to them, “All of you will have your faith shaken, for it is written:
I will strike the shepherd,
and the sheep will be dispersed.
But after I have been raised up, I shall go before you to Galilee.” Peter said to him, “Even though all should have their faith shaken, mine will not be.” Then Jesus said to him, “Amen, I say to you, this very night before the cock crows twice you will deny me three times.” But he vehemently replied, “Even though I should have to die with you, I will not deny you.” And they all spoke similarly.
Then they came to a place named Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took with him Peter, James, and John, and began to be troubled and distressed. Then he said to them, “My soul is sorrowful even to death. Remain here and keep watch.” He advanced a little and fell to the ground and prayed that if it were possible the hour might pass by him; he said, “Abba, Father, all things are possible to you. Take this cup away from me, but not what I will but what you will.” When he returned he found them asleep. He said to Peter, “Simon, are you asleep? Could you not keep watch for one hour? Watch and pray that you may not undergo the test. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” Withdrawing again, he prayed, saying the same thing. Then he returned once more and found them asleep, for they could not keep their eyes open and did not know what to answer him. He returned a third time and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? It is enough. The hour has come. Behold, the Son of Man is to be handed over to sinners. Get up, let us go. See, my betrayer is at hand.”
Then, while he was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived, accompanied by a crowd with swords and clubs who had come from the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders. His betrayer had arranged a signal with them, saying, “The man I shall kiss is the one; arrest him and lead him away securely.” He came and immediately went over to him and said, “Rabbi.” And he kissed him. At this they laid hands on him and arrested him. One of the bystanders drew his sword, struck the high priest’s servant, and cut off his ear. Jesus said to them in reply, “Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs, to seize me? Day after day I was with you teaching in the temple area, yet you did not arrest me; but that the Scriptures may be fulfilled.” And they all left him and fled. Now a young man followed him wearing nothing but a linen cloth about his body. They seized him, but he left the cloth behind and ran off naked.
They led Jesus away to the high priest, and all the chief priests and the elders and the scribes came together. Peter followed him at a distance into the high priest’s courtyard and was seated with the guards, warming himself at the fire. The chief priests and the entire Sanhedrin kept trying to obtain testimony against Jesus in order to put him to death, but they found none. Many gave false witness against him, but their testimony did not agree. Some took the stand and testified falsely against him, alleging, “We heard him say, ‘I will destroy this temple made with hands and within three days I will build another not made with hands.’” Even so their testimony did not agree. The high priest rose before the assembly and questioned Jesus, saying, “Have you no answer? What are these men testifying against you?” But he was silent and answered nothing. Again the high priest asked him and said to him, “Are you the Christ, the son of the Blessed One?” Then Jesus answered, “I am;
and ‘you will see the Son of Man
seated at the right hand of the Power
and coming with the clouds of heaven.’”
At that the high priest tore his garments and said, “What further need have we of witnesses? You have heard the blasphemy. What do you think?” They all condemned him as deserving to die. Some began to spit on him. They blindfolded him and struck him and said to him, “Prophesy!” And the guards greeted him with blows.
While Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the high priest’s maids came along. Seeing Peter warming himself, she looked intently at him and said, “You too were with the Nazarene, Jesus.” But he denied it saying, “I neither know nor understand what you are talking about.” So he went out into the outer court. Then the cock crowed. The maid saw him and began again to say to the bystanders, “This man is one of them.” Once again he denied it. A little later the bystanders said to Peter once more, “Surely you are one of them; for you too are a Galilean.” He began to curse and to swear, “I do not know this man about whom you are talking.” And immediately a cock crowed a second time. Then Peter remembered the word that Jesus had said to him, “Before the cock crows twice you will deny me three times.” He broke down and wept.
As soon as morning came, the chief priests with the elders and the scribes, that is, the whole Sanhedrin, held a council. They bound Jesus, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate. Pilate questioned him, “Are you the king of the Jews?” He said to him in reply, “You say so.” The chief priests accused him of many things. Again Pilate questioned him, “Have you no answer? See how many things they accuse you of.” Jesus gave him no further answer, so that Pilate was amazed.
Now on the occasion of the feast he used to release to them one prisoner whom they requested. A man called Barabbas was then in prison along with the rebels who had committed murder in a rebellion. The crowd came forward and began to ask him to do for them as he was accustomed. Pilate answered, “Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?” For he knew that it was out of envy that the chief priests had handed him over. But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release Barabbas for them instead. Pilate again said to them in reply, “Then what do you want me to do with the man you call the king of the Jews?” They shouted again, “Crucify him.” Pilate said to them, “Why? What evil has he done?” They only shouted the louder, “Crucify him.” So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released Barabbas to them and, after he had Jesus scourged, handed him over to be crucified.
The soldiers led him away inside the palace, that is, the praetorium, and assembled the whole cohort. They clothed him in purple and, weaving a crown of thorns, placed it on him. They began to salute him with, “Hail, King of the Jews!” and kept striking his head with a reed and spitting upon him. They knelt before him in homage. And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the purple cloak, dressed him in his own clothes, and led him out to crucify him.
They pressed into service a passer-by, Simon, a Cyrenian, who was coming in from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his cross.
They brought him to the place of Golgotha —which is translated Place of the Skull—. They gave him wine drugged with myrrh, but he did not take it. Then they crucified him and divided his garments by casting lots for them to see what each should take. It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of the Jews.” With him they crucified two revolutionaries, one on his right and one on his left. Those passing by reviled him, shaking their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself by coming down from the cross.” Likewise the chief priests, with the scribes, mocked him among themselves and said, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may see and believe.” Those who were crucified with him also kept abusing him. At noon darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And at three o’clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which is translated, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Some of the bystanders who heard it said, “Look, he is calling Elijah.” One of them ran, soaked a sponge with wine, put it on a reed and gave it to him to drink saying, “Wait, let us see if Elijah comes to take him down.” Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last.
(Here all kneel and pause for a short time)
The veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom. When the centurion who stood facing him saw how he breathed his last he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!” There were also women looking on from a distance. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of the younger James and of Joses, and Salome. These women had followed him when he was in Galilee and ministered to him. There were also many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem.
When it was already evening, since it was the day of preparation, the day before the sabbath, Joseph of Arimathea, a distinguished member of the council, who was himself awaiting the kingdom of God, came and courageously went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Pilate was amazed that he was already dead. He summoned the centurion and asked him if Jesus had already died. And when he learned of it from the centurion, he gave the body to Joseph. Having bought a linen cloth, he took him down, wrapped him in the linen cloth, and laid him in a tomb that had been hewn out of the rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance to the tomb. Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses watched where he was laid.
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
Or:
Gospel
Mark 15:1–39
The Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ.
As soon as morning came, the chief priests with the elders and the scribes, that is, the whole Sanhedrin, held a council. They bound Jesus, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate. Pilate questioned him, “Are you the king of the Jews?” He said to him in reply, “You say so.” The chief priests accused him of many things. Again Pilate questioned him, “Have you no answer? See how many things they accuse you of.” Jesus gave him no further answer, so that Pilate was amazed.
Now on the occasion of the feast he used to release to them one prisoner whom they requested. A man called Barabbas was then in prison along with the rebels who had committed murder in a rebellion. The crowd came forward and began to ask him to do for them as he was accustomed. Pilate answered, “Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?” For he knew that it was out of envy that the chief priests had handed him over. But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release Barabbas for them instead. Pilate again said to them in reply, “Then what do you want me to do with the man you call the king of the Jews?” They shouted again, “Crucify him.” Pilate said to them, “Why? What evil has he done?” They only shouted the louder, “Crucify him.” So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released Barabbas to them and, after he had Jesus scourged, handed him over to be crucified.
The soldiers led him away inside the palace, that is, the praetorium, and assembled the whole cohort. They clothed him in purple and, weaving a crown of thorns, placed it on him. They began to salute him with, “Hail, King of the Jews!” and kept striking his head with a reed and spitting upon him. They knelt before him in homage. And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the purple cloak, dressed him in his own clothes, and led him out to crucify him.
They pressed into service a passer-by, Simon, a Cyrenian, who was coming in from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his cross.
They brought him to the place of Golgotha —which is translated Place of the Skull—. They gave him wine drugged with myrrh, but he did not take it. Then they crucified him and divided his garments by casting lots for them to see what each should take. It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of the Jews.” With him they crucified two revolutionaries, one on his right and one on his left. Those passing by reviled him, shaking their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself by coming down from the cross.” Likewise the chief priests, with the scribes, mocked him among themselves and said, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may see and believe.” Those who were crucified with him also kept abusing him.
At noon darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And at three o’clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which is translated, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Some of the bystanders who heard it said, “Look, he is calling Elijah.” One of them ran, soaked a sponge with wine, put it on a reed and gave it to him to drink saying, “Wait, let us see if Elijah comes to take him down.” Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last.
(Here all kneel and pause for a short time)
The veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom. When the centurion who stood facing him saw how he breathed his last he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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God has spoken and He does not stutter.
Today's inspiration comes from:
Divine Disruption
by Tony Evans
"Everything we are facing — economic crises, political crises, financial crises, familial crises — goes much deeper than what’s on the surface. Everything visible and physical is preceded by that which is invisible and spiritual. If you want to address the visible and physical, you must identify the cause and cure to that which is invisible and spiritual. To put it another way, if all you see is what you see, then you do not see all that there is to be seen.
I believe this disruption we are experiencing has been allowed in order to precipitate a spiritual realignment and center us back toward God. Second Chronicles 15:5-6 says,
In those times there was no peace for those who went about their daily activities because the residents of the lands had many conflicts. Nation was crushed by nation and city by city, for God troubled them with every possible distress.
In these verses the Bible describes a world in chaos and individuals without peace. When the people of Judah and Benjamin went home, there was family conflict. City rose up against city and nation against nation. There was no peace in the land.
At the end of verse 6 it says,
For God troubled them with every possible distress.
Wait a minute. Who is behind this chaos and lack of peace? The Lord took the blame.
In the Old Testament, when God’s people departed from Him, judgment followed soon behind. With the sacrifice of Jesus, God recast His relationship to the world. Second Corinthians 5:19 says that the world was reconciled to God through the death of Jesus Christ.
No longer does the Lord God rain down fire and brimstone or send floods, like in Noah’s day, but we can experience the passive wrath of God that is described in Romans 1:24, Romans 1:26, Romans 1:28. The Scripture says that God turned them over to impurity. Then, again, later in the chapter, God turned them over to disgraceful passions. A third time, God turned them over to a corrupt mind.
Because the people of God no longer took Him seriously, choosing to dishonor Him and drift away, He let them experience the consequences of their behavior and see what life looked like without His provision.
Romans 1:21-24 describes what happens when an individual, family, church, or nation depart from God:
For although they knew God, they neither glorified Him as God nor gave thanks to Him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like a mortal human being and birds and animals, and reptiles. Therefore, God gave them over in the sinful desires of their hearts. — NIV
Yes, we know God exists everywhere, but I am talking about the relational absenteeism of God. It is as if God has said, If you don’t want Me, you’re going to have to see what life is like without Me. So I believe God is interrupting the normal, natural, and preferred order of things on every single level. God is sending a worldwide message.
Returning to the Old Testament story, 2 Chronicles 15:3 speaks to the causes of the chaos and crisis at that time:
For many years Israel has been without the true God, without a teaching priest, and without instruction.
He didn’t say there was no belief in God; he said their belief was not in “the true God.” The Israelites had replaced “the true God” with idols.
His Word is perfection, ever relevant, speaking to all issues, for all of life.
Many of our churches have failed as they have bowed to culture and dumbed down His deity by ignoring His Word. We are no longer teaching unapologetic truth. We are teaching what we think or what feels good to the people. We teach what is popular and preferred.
There are two answers to every question: God’s answer and everybody else’s. And everybody else is wrong. God has spoken and He does not stutter.
His Word is perfection, ever relevant, speaking to all issues, for all of life.
God defines marriage. God defines gender. God defines identity. God defines what it means to be parents and how children should respond. God defines religion and how the church operates. He creates and defines governments and how they should be run. He has spoken on how the citizens of a nation are supposed to act. God defines sexuality. We don’t. When we start to redefine seminal issues like these, chaos will ensue.
In creating our own rules and parameters, we insult God.
When there are no teaching priests in the land and the pulpits allow society to vote on what God has said, we do not conform to God’s standard. We only make people comfortable with their own standards.
God speaks to the issues of righteousness and justice and how to handle the poor, pursue equity, and stabilize economic structures and personal finances. The mission of a teaching priest is to declare God’s truth with love and clarity on every issue in society.
God’s Word must become the current standard by which all issues are addressed, by which all people must conform, and by which all systems must be adjusted. No matter how high or how low, regardless of political, social, or economic position, the teaching priest must never kowtow to the culture. The leader must speak with spiritual authority and Holy Ghost power.
The best way for the servants of God to love and care for the people is to speak God’s truth. The pulpit must preach in a way that overrides the opinions of society or what your parents may have taught you. God’s Word must override what professors or politicians have to say. It overrules what the media is trying to promote. We have no more time for clever sermonettes or cute Christian phrases. This is a season for preaching the full counsel of God’s Word with grace but without apology.
The desire of God is relationship with His people. Make knowing Him your goal. God will bless us, our families, and our culture as we learn that the God who causes distress also alleviates the distress when we return to His side."
~ Dr. Anthony Evans
Excerpted with permission from Divine Disruption by Tony Evans, Chrystal Evans Hurst, Priscilla Shirer, Anthony Evans, and Jonathan Evans, copyright Tony Evans, Chrystal Evans Hurst, Priscilla Shirer, Anthony Evans, and Jonathan Evans.
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We Are Not Impostors
Verse of the day
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2 Corinthians 6:8 We serve God whether people honor us or despise us, whether they slander us or praise us. We are honest, but they call us impostors.
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** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN AFFIRMATION **
I AM THE TOP & NOT THE BOTTOM
I AM BEAUTIFUL
I AM WONDERFUL
I AM STRONG
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Thoughts
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The verse today lets us know that our worship and our relationship is on us, not on others; it’s on us to keep it going; it’s on us to build it; it’s on us to give ourselves more and more to it! We have to worry about ourselves. I have seen this many, many times; people worry about other people, and their lives are filled with chaos; I have seen people try to change people, but their hearts and life needed it too ;what we must remember is that we will go to the judgment of God alone not with family, not with friends, not with our neighbors, just us. We have to take account of our lives, not with whomever we're trying to make do right.
Paul is saying to the Corinthians, we serve God, not people, and we praise God, regardless! Our relationship is built on how we allow change to happen to us! People will say whatever they have to divert you from the truth, they will say whatever to pull you from God, but we must be people that stay focused on that God, God can destroy the soul! God can throw us into hell, not others!
“1 Peter 4:14 if you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you.”
We are blessed when we are not seen like others BUT because of our faith, and we are blessed when we go through because this is all for the glory of God, don’t allow what others do and say to bother you, stand firm on that God is getting glory because of your life! They called Jesus out his name; they called him a liar and a demon, but he didn’t let that break him; he pushed through it because he knew who he was which is the MESSIAH ; he knew who his life was going to help OTHERS!
“1 Timothy 3:7 Moreover, he must be well thought of by outsiders, so that he may not fall into disgrace, into a snare of the devil.”
We can easily fall into disgrace! We can easily fall into the trap of the enemy and his snare, but we must stay focused on who we are here on earth for; Paul said it, “So if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!” We can’t look at that we are strong today and that we can’t fall; we must always be aware that we can fall, so that’s why we must stay ready at all times; we shouldn’t even point at the flaws of others because we then have to look at our life do we have a plank in ours.
“Matthew 7:3-4 Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? 4 How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is always a plank in your own eye? “
It tells us here that we must always take the time to self-examine our life! We must always take the time to allow God to show us what’s in our lives. Slander will come, name-calling will come, and the enemy will come, but it’s what we do at those moments! It’s what we do when this happens, so do we allow simple words to excite us, or do we allow the power of God to stand taller over our enemies?
The last verse we will examine is this “ 1 Corinthians 4:12-13 We work hard with our own hands. When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it; 13 when we are slandered, we answer kindly. We have become the scum of the earth, the garbage of the world—right up to this moment.”
Paul says, here we endure even if we are slandered, we answered kindly even if we are cussed at, people see us as the scum, they see us as garbage, but, BUT we aren’t; we are more than this, we are not the tail we are the head, the word even says we will ALWAYS BE THE TOP NOT THE BOTTOM! So stand tall not it’s our heads facing the ground BUT with our shoulders squared and our heads held high looking towards our savior !!
**Today, if you feel that people are just going on and on about how terrible and less you are, don’t fret! Don’t allow it to bother you because you are a conqueror; you are what God says you are! Words are just words, and they do hurt but don’t let words break you! Don’t allow words to create depression and anxiety in you because you are a creation of God !! BUT at this same hand don’t point out others sins and shake your finger at them in judgment no we must draw all men with love , just like Christ did us he drew us with love not judgement, we must always examine our own lives and allow the Holy Spirit to cleanse us of any specks or planks in our lives ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee
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Prayer
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Heavenly Father we thank you so much we ask today as we go through our day that you look at our lives and show us what we need to change , show us what we need to do more of in our lives , God we ask you to help us not to judge others about their sins but to love them and show them you ! Lord we ask as we deal with people bothering us we ask you to give us strength not to do tit and tat but to allow you to revenge us but give us strength to know that you are behind us and that you will always protect us from not only words but problems we love you so much for being such a protecting God . Lord we ask you to give us more of a compassion for people in Jesus Name Amen.
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Reference
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+Titus 3:2 They must not slander anyone and must avoid quarreling. Instead, they should be gentle and show true humility to everyone.
+1 Corinthians 4:12-13 We work hard with our own hands. When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it; 13 when we are slandered, we answer kindly. We have become the scum of the earth, the garbage of the world—right up to this moment.”
+Matthew 7:6 Don’t waste what is holy on people who are unholy. Don’t throw your pearls to pigs! They will trample the pearls, then turn and attack you.
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Further reading
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Daniel 11:36-12:13
1John 4:1-21
Psalm 123:1-4
Proverbs 29:2-4
#bible#bible quotes#christian quote#daily devotion#daily devotional#inspiration#scripture#bible verse#christian life#christan life
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Tafsir Ibn Kathir: Surah Al-Anfal Ayah 42
In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.
8:42 (And remember) when you (the Muslim army) were on the near side of the valley, and they on the farther side, and the caravan on the ground lower than you.
Even if you had made a mutual appointment to meet, you would certainly have failed in the appointment, but (you met) that Allah might accomplish a matter already ordained (in His knowledge), so that those who were to be destroyed (for rejecting the faith) might be destroyed after a clear evidence, and those who were to live (believers) might live after a clear evidence.
And surely, Allah is All-Hearer, All-Knower.
Some Details of the Battle of Badr
Allah describes Yawm Al-Furqan, (i.e. the day of Badr),
(And remember) when you (the Muslim army) were on the near side of the valley,
camping in the closest entrance of the valley towards Al-Madinah,
and they,
the idolators, who were camped,
on the farther side,
from Al-Madinah, towards Makkah.
and the caravan,
that was under the command of Abu Sufyan, with the wealth that it contained,
on the ground lower than you, closer to the sea,
even if you had made a mutual appointment to meet, you and the idolators,
you would certainly have failed in the appointment,
Muhammad bin Ishaq said, "Yahya bin Abbad bin Abdullah bin Az-Zubayr narrated to me from his father about this Ayah
"Had there been an appointed meeting set between you and them and you came to know of their superior numbers and your few forces, you would not have met them,
but (you met) that Allah might accomplish a matter already ordained,
Allah had decreed that He would bring glory to Islam and its people, while disgracing Shirk and its people. You (the companions) had no knowledge this would happen, but it was out of Allah's compassion that He did that.''
In a Hadith, Ka`b bin Malik said,
"The Messenger of Allah and the Muslims marched to intercept the Quraysh caravan, but Allah made them meet their (armed) enemy without appointment.''
Muhammad bin Ishaq said that Yazid bin Ruwman narrated to him that Urwah bin Az-Zubayr said,
"Upon approaching Badr, the Messenger of Allah sent Ali bin Abi Talib, Sa`d bin Abi Waqqas, Az- Zubayr bin Al-Awwam and several other Companions to spy the pagans.
They captured two boys, a servant of Bani Sa`id bin Al-`As and a servant of Bani Al-Hajjaj, while they were bringing water for Quraysh. So they brought them to the Messenger of Allah, but found him praying.
The Companions started interrogating the boys, asking them to whom they belonged. Both of them said that they were employees bringing water for Quraysh (army). The Companions were upset with that answer, since they thought that the boys belonged to Abu Sufyan (who was commanding the caravan). So they beat the two boys vehemently, who said finally that they belonged to Abu Sufyan. Thereupon companions left them alone.
When the Prophet ended the prayer, he said,
When they tell you the truth you beat them, but when they lie you let them go They have said the truth, by Allah! They belong to the Quraysh.
addressing to the boys He said: Tell me the news about Quraysh.
The two boys said, `They are behind this hill that you see, on the far side of the valley.'
The Messenger of Allah asked,
How many are they?
They said, `They are many.'
He asked,
How many?
They said, `We do not know the precise number.' He asked,
How many camels do they slaughter every day? They said, `Nine or ten a day.'
The Messenger of Allah said,
They are between nine-hundred and a thousand. He asked again,
Which chiefs of Quraysh are accompanying the army?
They said,
Utbah bin Rabiah,
Shaybah bin Rabiah,
Abu Al-Bakhtari bin Hisham,
Hakim bin Hizam,
Nawfal bin Khuwaylid,
Al-Harith bin Amir bin Nawfal, Tu`aymah bin Adi bin Nawfal, An-Nadr bin Al-Harith,
Zam`ah bin Al-Aswad,
Abu Jahl bin Hisham,
Umayyah bin Khalaf,
Nabih and Munabbih sons of Al-Hajjaj,
Suhayl bin Amr and Amr bin Abd Wadd.
The Messenger of Allah said to the people,
This is Makkah! She has brought you her most precious sons (its chiefs)!''
Allah said,
So that those who were to be destroyed might be destroyed after a clear evidence.
Muhammad bin Ishaq commented,
"So that those who disbelieve do so after witnessing clear evidence, proof and lessons, and those who believe do so after witnessing the same.''
This is a sound explanation. Allah says,
He made you meet your enemy in one area without appointment, so that He gives you victory over them.' This way, `He will raise the word of truth above falsehood, so that the matter is made clear, the proof unequivocal and the evidence plain. Then there will be no more plea or doubt for anyone. Then, those destined to destruction by persisting in disbelief do so with evidence, aware that they are misguided and that proof has been established against them, (and those who were to live might live), those who wish to believe do soَ (after a clear evidence), and proof. Verily, faith is the life of the heart, as Allah said,
Is he who was dead (without faith by ignorance and disbelief) and We gave him life (by knowledge and faith) and set for him a light (of belief) whereby he can walk among men ... (6:122)
Allah said next,
And surely, Allah is All-Hearer,
of your invocation, humility and requests for His help,
All-Knower.
meaning; about you, and you deserve victory over your rebellious, disbelieving enemies.
#god#allah#islam#quran#ayat#hadith#dua#religion#pray#prayer#salah#muslim#muslimah#revert#revert to islam#convert#convert to islam#help#revert help#islam help#revert help team#welcome to islam
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people need to have a vision and hope in life on earth.
A movie from 2014 that played on Peacock tonight
Life of a King
“Where there is ignorance of God, crime runs wild; but what a wonderful thing it is for a nation to know and keep his laws.”
The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 29:18 (The Living Bible)
“Where there is no vision from God, the people run wild, but those who adhere to God’s instruction know genuine happiness.”
The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 29:18 (The Voice)
[Habakkuk 2]
I will take my place at the watchtower.
I will stand at my post and watch.
I will watch and see what He says to me.
I need to think about how I should respond to Him
When He gets back to me with His answer.
Eternal One (to Habakkuk): Write down this vision.
Write it clearly on tablets, so that anyone who reads it may run.
For the vision points ahead to a time I have appointed;
it testifies regarding the end, and it will not lie.
Even if there is a delay, wait for it.
It is coming and will come without delay.
So I wrote, “Look how pompous he is!
Something is not right in his soul; he is not honest and just.
But the righteous one will live by his faithfulness.”
Indeed, wine betrays the proud man who is always restless.
He has a big appetite; it is like the deep, dark pit of the dead.
Like death, he is never satisfied.
He gathers all the nations to himself and collects all the people for his own purposes.
Will not all these nations raise up their litany of insults?
Will they not provoke him with their taunts and mockery, saying,
“Woe to him who hoards what is not his!
How long can he profit from extortion and debt?”
Will not your creditors suddenly rise up against you?
One day they will wake up and will have had enough.
Indeed, you will be their spoil!
Why? Because you have plundered many nations,
now all who remain will come and plunder you—
Because you have made bloody and violent raids over the earth
and ransacked many peoples and their villages.
Woe to him who builds his house on such evil profits,
who puts his nest up high, safe for the future, safe from disaster!
You don’t realize it, but by cutting down so many peoples,
you have brought shame on your house;
You have sinned against your own soul.
For the stone in the wall will cry out against you;
the wooden rafter will answer from the ceiling.
Woe to him who builds a city on bloodshed
and who establishes a town by injustice!
Look! Is it not because of the Eternal, the Commander of heavenly armies,
that all the people work for is consumed in fire
And that all the nations produce comes to nothing?
For as the waters cover the sea,
the whole earth will be filled with the knowledge
That the Eternal is glorious and powerful.
Woe to you who gives his neighbors a drink,
who keeps filling their cup with your anger and malice
To intoxicate them so you can uncover their shame
and look at their nakedness!
Instead of honor, you are going to have your fill of shame.
Now drink up and expose your own uncircumcised nakedness, your lack of God’s mark.
The cup in the Eternal’s right hand will come around to you,
and disgrace will eclipse your current glory.
For the violence done against Lebanon will now overtake you;
the terror you showed the animals in turn will terrorize you.
Because you shed blood and wrought violence in the earth,
you have destroyed cities and all their inhabitants.
What use is an idol shaped by its maker?
It is nothing but an image cast in metal; it teaches deception.
For a foolish idol-maker puts faith in his own creation,
a god that cannot speak.
Woe to him who says to a block of wood, “Wake up!”
or to a silent stone, “Arise!”
Are inanimate objects your teachers?
Look, it may be covered in gold and silver,
But there is no breath of life inside.
But the Eternal One is in His holy temple.
Let all the earth keep silent in His presence.
The Book of Habakkuk, Chapter 2 (The Voice)
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Good Morning Ma People.
Allow Me To Factually Rant a Lil Bit, Ok.
It really baffles, seeing who we call ''viyo[kiyo] vya jamii'' Gospel Artists, turning to be a disgrace and worrying example of what the society expects of them. Our, including me, moral thresh-hold should be above reproach, just like Ceasar's wife but its opposite. We put barriers of extreme expectations and become stumbling blocks to our ministry to the extent of, instead of setting example to the upcoming ministers, they become Shrouded Commercial Gospel Entities. And in a while they become the Willy Paul's and Bahatis of this streets. They either backslide, leave music, leave Church, et all.
But how much does the Church where we attend/go support the so called "Gospel Artists?".
Hold on, as a Journalist, having talked lots of them, the answer is "they rarely do". That's given. But which part of the ministry are you involved in that very church you need support from? You are a singer, Are you part of the worship team? Si lazima niwe kwa Choir.... Ok lemme make it easy for us, even being on protocol or benevolence or compassion.....How do you claim to be part of that local church, that body of Christ but you are technically a member; seen only once in two months? Do we even introduce churches where we come from given a chance to minister? I will talk about making money out of our Gospel music in the next world but today am here.
But I know someone will tell me Kinkiz hold it there, we pay for our recordings/productions and/but after ministering in a church function, it's all about "God Bless you MOG"..... I know we don't eat that, have been there, but the Good Book says "Your Talent Will Open Doors for You...Make you sit with the NOBLES of the society". What these doors? My friend, Pastor, Counsellor, Radio host and fellow artist Pst Elijah Waini help us understand.
There is always a level of reciprocity, either way.
Allow me to end it this way.
Lets not forget this is the grace of God, not by power, not by might but by the spirit of the Lord. Remember pride comes before a fall because talent isn't ya own but you were gifted for the glory and honor of whom that call us the way we were. Let someone remember, there is probably an element of malice in our readiness to overestimate people, we are, as it were, laying up for ourselves the pleasure of later cutting them down to size. If malice or envy were tangible and had a shape, it would be the shape of a boomerang. Lets ask of God, everything, absolutely everything and it shall be granted unto us excluding MALICE and ENVY.
You are blessed of the Lord.
By the way, what do I know?
Forgive my pen.
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Why the myth about Steve's PTSD doesn't add up and other inconsistencies
In the last few episodes of H50, PL tried to sell us a mentally broken Steve suffering from PTSD. Only the whole thing came a bit too late. The clip you see is from season 4 and ended up - no, not in the series - but somewhere on the floor of PL's editing room. And why? after Kurtzman and Orci departed, along with their writers, PL took the helm and started turning Steve into a super-soldier. He stylized him into something that wasn't meant to be. Instead of developing the characters, PL began to incorporate more and more hair-raising action sequences into the series and then let Steve fight on the front lines. There was no mention of Steve's mental state, and a lot was explained by PL with: it just happened "offscreen." Yeah, sure. PL can't create a decent character. He can only produce stereotypes and one-dimensional beings. Like Adam. What potential would that character have had had he been turned into Five-0's antagonist? But no. So his role remained diffuse and monotonous. Sometimes even tragicomical.
Back to Steve. When SEAL Team started on CBS, PL also lapsed into SEAL mania. If someone who writes fanfiction were to produce as much garbage as this man did, he would be chased away from every writers' platform in disgrace. PL's Super SEAL also had to rescue his team members from a blazing inferno. Not man by man, no, he flew a helicopter right into the danger zone and lifted a whole cabin out of the burning jungle. If lunacy had a name, it would be PL. While the action became more and more exaggerated and unrealistic, the same happened to the protagonists. After the departure of Daniel Dae Kim and Grace Park, PL completely lost his mind. And please, don't blame the writers for the nonsense that was thrown at you. A series stands and falls with the showrunner. He dictates what he wants and passes it on to his staff.
And so, lovable Steve became a soulless robot who only showed feelings here and there. Danny diminished more and more into a sidekick. McDanno became a ship that drifted anchorless through a stormy sea and threatened to capsize again and again. From season 8, it became a reboot of the reboot. PL tried an ensemble show and failed more than miserably. Often the actors just stood around bored. At least that was the impression. The only highlight was episode 8.10. A feast for all McDanno fans. But even here, the outcome of "who shot Danny" was more than insubstantial.
Wait, there was something about SEALs... Oh, yes. Junior appeared on the scene and became Steve's lapdog. I really wondered when there was going to be an episode where he would fetch sticks for Steve. Luckily we had Eddie for that. And because he thought he was so clever, PL invented the episode speed dating. How many subplots can you squeeze into one episode at the same time? In some episodes, you couldn't even take a look at the bag of potato chips without losing the thread.
The case of the week became the yawn of the week. There were so many loose ends that PL then came up with something called retconning. That's what you do when you're no longer satisfied with what was once established in the series years ago, or it no longer fits. But PL went one step further and did the same with the characters. The more the series was dragged out, the more the characters deteriorated and became OOC. It means, often, they were not recognizable at all. And that's where we come to Steve. Because PL, in his desperation, didn't know what else he could do to Steve, and so he killed Joe White. He did it in such a cheesy way with a fake sunset that it made you sick.
Of course, one episode later, there had to be another gig of PL's favorite Barbie. He stuck a fake beard on poor Steve/Alex, so he couldn't even hug Danny/Scott properly. The episode also raised more questions than it answered any. And Steve? He still didn't suffer from PTSD, even though he had now lost Joe White and a fellow SEAL. Everyone is dropping like flies, except for Steve, who is standing like a rock. No matter what. He doesn't need in-depth talks with Danny, nor psychological care, nor any sleeping pills. No, he's doing great. He also opens a restaurant with Danny because apparently, the carguments are already getting on PL's nerves. Unfortunately, this plot device leads into nirvana. The idea was nice, but nobody thought it through to the end. And the merry-go-round continues. Until we get to season 10, where it gets even more absurd. Now PL is almost bombarding us with McDanno episodes, or at least it should seem that way. Oh well, he's already planning for season 11, so a new character has to come on board quickly. While in the beginning, Steve's mother, Doris, dies.
Alex was allowed to take on the subject. Of course, only under the strict eyes of PL. He then nullifies Alex's idea that Steve kills his mother. Because a good soldier and Super SEAL won't do that. Little does PL know. THAT could have been the opening of a PTSD scenario for Steve. However, apart from that, this episode would have had any potential for a multi-arc. Just imagine Steve chasing his mother across multiple episodes. Again, PL stepped in and butchered Alex's episode. You can really feel sorry for the guy. PL at his best or worse? He just can't help it. And then, on the very last meters of the series, he brings someone new, who is allowed to cruise around with Steve most of the time. Because Danny was kidnapped by Wo Fat's widow, PL also invented quite late to have some villain at his disposal. This wannabe mastermind must really have been living under a rock somewhere if she wasn't even mentioned by her husband or appeared earlier.
Because towards the end, PL obviously ran out not only of steam but also of ideas, everything culminated in a wildly illogical scenario. Steve has to live through a dramatic day with Eddie, who stands as a metaphor for Steve (as I said, PTSD was never a thing for Super SEAL), Danny bangs his brains out in a ladies' room with a complete stranger, who dies shortly after that in an accident with Danny's rental car. Apparently, there was no budget to turn the Camaro into scrap metal. Danny then also goes home alone, ignoring the incoming emergency vehicles. Everything remains open at the end of the episode. While Steve expresses his gratitude to Tani and Quinn and says, he would be just as lost as poor Eddie without the dog and all of them. The strange thing is that you never notice anything until that sentence. A few forced dialogues are supposed to make the drama visible, but they all happen way too late or are so poorly written that you miss them.
PL had decided early on to make Steve a Teflon hero. That also means he didn't need to put much substance into the character. Which you can clearly see if you compare the first three seasons to the rest of the series. But towards the end, PL wanted to turn the tide and forcefully rewrote Steve's past. There is a huge difference if you compare Steve from seasons 1 to 3 with Steve from season 10. It is only a sparse remnant of what made this character so great. This change in Steve's personality also affects his relationship with Danny. The witty, affectionate banter degenerates into a snappy, humorless bitch-fest that takes all the joy out of it.
The final two episodes could have been written for any other crime show. As mentioned, we have Cole, who even gets a book'em Cole from Steve, which can only be described as out of line. And it begs the question, was that what Lenkov originally had in mind? Danny out of the show and Cole in? Was the last episode, which mainly featured McCole, something of a test run? Did all the McDanno moments happen only to tear the two apart eventually? Was the real final scene the one where Steve and Catherine take Danny's coffin back to Jersey? Was Danny not supposed to survive? Was that the real reason Steve wanted to get out of Hawaii because he wanted to pay his respects to Danny? And would he really have returned to Hawaii later? Or would he have turned his back on Hawaii? To me, this ending is more plausible than what PL served us. Then, Steve handed over his credentials to Cole instead of Danny, his second in command. Honestly, you can't make the end of a series any more sloppy and dumber than that. And I won't even lose a word about the last 1:30 minutes because I think everything has already been said.
No PL, mission absolutely not accomplished. You created Teflon-Steve. You never wanted him to show any weakness. You turned him into a superhuman who can survive anything. Only to pull the rug out from under him on the last few meters to the finish line and spit on his legacy. How can you dismantle such a great series and its characters like you did? How much do you have to hate something to do that? In the final interviews, the showrunner didn't exactly cover himself in glory either. Everyone who grew up with the series from day one knows that its end was wrong on all the possible levels and that the showrunner is solely to blame for that. It takes a fair amount of egoism and carelessness to drive 10 years at full throttle against the wall. Not many people can do that. Whether you can be proud of that, however, I doubt.
My respect if you have made it this far. Each of you gets 10 extra brownie points for it.
#McDanno#steve mcgarrett#danny williams#scott caan#alex o'loughlin#H50 the final chapter#H50 series finale#Lenkov#Eddie#Junior#seal team
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Hi Frank!! I am interested in Dog's D'Amour, would you tell me a bit about the members? 👀
first of all i wanna say i am SO SORRY it took me so long to get around to this!! i wanted to answer it fully and completely, though <3
tyla
tyla is the frontman—singer and rhythm guitarist. he's a cancer, notoriously drunk, and generally fucking nuts. there are a lot of insane tyla stories, but my favorite is probably him breaking up the band onstage by slashing his chest open with a broken bottle. his favorite poets are bukowski and wilde, he loves the rolling stones and rod stewart, and he usually has a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. his ragged glory isn't an act.
jo
jo is the lead guitarist. he's pretty gentle and soft spoken; that doesn't mean he's sane or innocent. like keith richards, he is excellent at being casually fucked up. my favorite jo story is probably that for his birthday (25th if i remember correctly) the rest of the band got him a hooker. the idea was that she was supposed to "arrest him" for something and take him back to his room etc etc but instead he got her to strip and fucked her in front of the whole room.
steve
steve is the bassist. you may think he's the normal one of the four; wrong! he and jo jumped off a bridge together in helsinki just for fun in the early days. he also ate a a playing card once playing poker. he likes motorcycles and, like jo, has a keith richards cool kinda air about him. he was originally a guitarist but stepped in as the bassist when jo joined the band.
bam
bam is the drummer and is probably the most insane one. i don't know. i think he and tyla are tied. anyways, he's probably the most volatile of the four. when drunk, he's known to have pulled knives on people and been totally nuts. he also, concerningly enough, was the only one of them that could drive. does this mean he was the sober designated driver? of course not. he tells a story about them getting pulled over with booze and weed in the car...
here are some songs to hear off of each album (minus the state we're in bc the sound quality is so fucking bad) <3
(un)authorized bootleg: pourin' out my heart, gold, heroine, dynamite jet saloon
in the dynamite jet saloon: debauchery, last bandit, how come it never rains, medicine man, wait until i'm dead, billy two rivers
errol flynn: drunk like me, goddess from the gutter, satellite kid, princess valium, trail of tears
a graveyard of empty bottles: the entire album it's all acoustic and so fucking good
straight: cardboard town, kiss my heart goodbye, you can't burn the devil, gypsy blood, empty world, back on the juice, victims of success, lady nicotine, flying solo
more unchartered heights of disgrace: what's happening here, johnny silvers, more unchartered heights of disgrace, put it in her arm
#wake up babes crash course on the dogs just dropped#i hope this is what u wanted and more!!#cassie#dogs d'amour
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How about a part two of Stella x owl reader? Fights between Stolas and Stella have become increasingly rare and his mood is improving, Stolas decides to ask about, unlike Stolas, Stella knows very well how to keep her piece of paradise a secret for now. Until one day y/n decides to visit Stella under the guise of business and to give his dear little owl a "luxury massage session", but things get a little out of hand when Stolas is caught with Blitzo. (you can ignore it if you want)
Stella with her Secret Owl demon S/O
Stella, for the first time in weeks, was having a good day.
They had actually become far more common in the weeks since your confession.
She had found herself being far less stressed as of late. So much so, she had only hadn't had a fight with Stolas in a full week.
She was relaxing in her study, enjoying a good cup of tea.
She was reminiscing on your night together, the next morning you had given her a small stack of letters.
They were all addressed to her, the condition of some of them implied they were written many years ago.
It only took a single letter for her to realise they were love letters.
Dozens of them.
She took her time, pouring over each letter. Taking in every word and detail. Emotions swelling in her chest as she read each one.
It was perhaps the most romantic thing she had ever seen.
The letters acted much like a record of your feeling for her.
It started from your more innocent affection for her as a child, all the way into your growing feeling for her in your youth, when you realised your feelings for her were beyond friendship.
And into your discovery of her betrothal to Stolas.
You poured your heart into each letter, telling her everything. Everytime you thought of her, how much you missed her, berating yourself for not just telling her how much you loved her.
You wrote about how much it pained you to remember you'd never get to tell her how much he loved her.
It was a roller-coaster of emotions. Some letters made her laugh. Others brought her to tears.
And by the end, she was clutching the letters to her chest. Her chest swollen with emotion as she experienced so many emotions all at once.
Her marriage with Stolas was... less than voluntary. The whole union being mostly political, arranged by there parents.
She had hoped love would bloom after Octavia's birth. But it hadn't, and after that she knew love was not meant to be.
But you, you genuinely loved her, for her.
You dedicated your life to being worthy of her.
You didn't want her for her status or wealth, you wanted her, for her.
She cood to herself dreamily, fantasising about your time together.
Her fantasising was cut short when there was a neck on her study door.
She quickly placed the letters into her draw before asking who it was.
Much to her surprise, it was none other then Stolas who entered her office. Her 'husband' looked about nervously, rightfully so, she supposed as he stepped in.
'Hello, uh, Stella.' He said nervously 'may I talk to you for a moment.'
Stella had a colourful collection of words she wanted to use at him. But instead she simply asked 'What do you want?'
Stolas cleared his throat, clearly not surprised by her callous tone.
Taking a few steps he began 'I've noticed this past few weeks you've been less... confrontation.' Stella's eyes narrowed, but she held her tongue.
'And I was just thinking, if perhaps we could come to an agreement.'
That actually peaked her interest. 'What kind of agreement?' She asked warily.
Stolas looked thrilled she hadn't thrown him out yet. 'Well, I was thinking we could put our differences aside, put the whole incident between us behind us. FOr Octavias sake.' He quickly cut in. 'Our constant arguing has taken quite the toll on her.'
Stella clenched her hands, he claws digging into her palm. 'For octavias sake...?' she asked incredulously.
Rage swelled in her chest 'How fucking dare you!' She told him through a scowl.
She pointed an angry finger at him. 'You, YOU! Cheat on me! Betray our marriage. Betray our family. And you want me to act like nothing happened. "For Octavia's sake"?'
She stood up, she couldn't even look at him. 'You disgust me. Tell me, would you give up your little fucking Imp? If it would make everything like it was, would you give him up?'
Stolas didn't answer, instead opting to look off to the side. Stella just sighed, shaking her head.
'Your a selfish, pathetic coward. Hiding behind your own daughter, what a disgrace.'
Before she could tell him to get out, there was a knock at the door. 'Who is it?' She shouted.
The door opened slowly, revealing one of the palace Imps. 'What do you want?' She asked harshly.
'T-theres a Lord (Y/N) here to see you. They say it's a business matter.'
Stella instantly perked up, holding back a smile as she rose to her feet. 'Thank you. I shall greet them personally.'
Getting up she walked past Stolas, not even bothering to give him a second glance.
She made her way to the entrance, and much to her annoyance, Stolas had seemingly decided to follow her, for some reason.
She quickly made it to the entrance, you were waiting there, anxiously adjusting your attire.
Hearing her approach you turned, your face lit up when your eyes layed apon her, Only for it to instantly dull upon seeing Stolas.
Still wearing a smile, you reached forward and took her hand before planted a gentle kiss upon it.
'Lady Stella. Its a pleasure to see you after so long. You still look as enchanting as when we were children.' You tell her, sending butterfly's through her stomach.
The moment was sullied when Stolas but in, 'Children?' The butterflies in her stomich instantly falling dead. 'Do you know each other?' He asked.
Before Stella could speak, you cut in 'Me and Stella were childhood friends.' You told him extending your hand. 'Its been some time since we've met in person.'
Stolas took your hand, giving it a firm shake. 'Is that so? Stella never mentioned you.'
'Well until recently' you rolled your head, your smile just holding back a scowl. 'I was beneath notice. I've only achieving my status relatively recently.'
'I was from a lower house, you see, a vassel of her family. And through that, me and Stella became friends.' You gave her a warm look, staring for several moments.
Stolas went to ask another question but Stella cut him off. 'You had business to discuss, did you not (Y/N)?' She asked.
You snapped to her, delighted to not have to talk to Stolas any further.
'Yes, i do' you said happily 'I believe a mutually beneficial arrangement could be made, between our houses.
'Excellent' she proclaims happily. 'It been so long since we've had any real business. And perhaps we could use the chance to catch up. It has been far too long.'
You looked at her fondly, before Stella turned, signalling for you to follow.
You did, turning to Stolas as you left 'It was a pleasure to meet you, your highness.' You told him, the slightest hint of disdain in your voice.
The two of you made your way to her study, you opening the door for her, giving a slight bow as she entered.
She giggled at your antics, before you followed her in, shutting the door behind you.
As soon as the door shut Stella instantly spun around and pinned you to the door, locking you in a heavy kiss.
'You have no idea how much I've wanted to do that.' Stella told you, after breaking the kiss.
You just chuckled before raising an eyebrow, 'oh, i think I do.' You told her playfully.
Stella just giggled, giving you a peck on the cheek. Pulling away she got up and went over to her desk.
You followed close behind, wrapping her in a hug. 'Now, now (Y/N), we have business to attend to.' She told you, patting your arm.
You just chuckled, 'Stella, I didn't really come here for business. I came to spend time with you.'
Stella was a little taken aback, mostly for not seeing it, as on reflection it was quite obvious.
Kissing her neck you slid your hands onto her shoulders, gently rubbing the muscles around her muscle.
Stella moaned at your touch, this only emboldened you, as your hands rubbed deeper and rougher.
Digging your fingers into her shoulder muscles. Stella released a flurry of moans, gripping her desk as you worked over her shoulder blades.
You moved down her spine, slowly undoing her dress as you went.
Reaching the bottom she turned to you, moving her shoulders, her dress fell, leaving her in all her natural glory.
You took her then and there, the two of you wrapped in passion, you held nothing back, releasing years of passion.
When stella became more vocal, you tried to get her quiet down, in fear ztolas might catch you.
As you got rougher, she just cried out 'I want him to hear!'
You went on for a while, after you finished, you held Stella close, the Owl demon curled up on your lap.
You preened your lover, running your hands all across her body before gently plucking any feather you didn't deem worthy to stay on your perfect mate. Afterwards the two of you got dressed.
You meticulously inspecting Stella, head to toe, ensuring she was perfectly groomed from head to toe.
The two of you leaft her study, ensuring no evidence of your little escapade was left behind.
The small collection of Stella's feathers, were delicately placed in your coat pocket.
You followed her into the garden, strolling through the large hedges that sat behind the Goetia palace.
Confident you where alone, you held Stella close, sharing a public display of affection.
You made it deep into the hedges, finding yourself beneath a large tree. It was a beautiful reminder that there was still life in hell.
You took her hand, you lead her beneath the trees majesty.
You pushed your body against hers, pinning her to the tree as you locked your lips with her's.
As you deepened the kiss, The distinct sound of snaping twigs drew your attention.
Snapping your head to face the noise, you found its source.
An Imp had fallen through the hedge, leaving a large hole in his stead.
You locked eyes with the Imp and sighed, 'well, this won't end well' you thought.
The Imp seem to think the same thing, before you both exclaimed 'Well, Fuck!'
Thanks for the request. I really love writing for both Stolas and Stella, as I feel there just isn't enough story centred around them as individuals. It always about there family or Stolas and Blitzø. But I really enjoyed the request. I hope you enjoyed.
#helluva boss#helluva boss headcanon#x reader#headcanon#helluva stolas#helluva boss x reader#helluva stella
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Ah I just read like 5 of your head cannons they're amazing! Could you write about the M9 reacting to a fighter s/o using magic for the fist time, and the s/o explaining that they haven't used it cause it scares them?
Thank you so much ☺️! It turned out a bit longer than I intended but more content is good right? I tried to get some variety in the types of magic users to kudos to anyone who figures out the (sub)classes. Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy this one 😘
Caleb:
Caleb, observant as he is caught on the fact you had more knowledge of the arcane than you let people believe. You knew things someone not schooled in some kind of magic wouldn’t have the faintest clue about. It may have left him a bit suspicious of you in the beginning but over time he saw no malicious intent or a connection to the people he’d rather distance himself from.
The first time Caleb noticed you cast a spell, you spoke the familiar words combined with the motions to deflect a hit from an enemy mid battle that otherwise might have been the death of you. You thought no one had noticed but Caleb had, and he recognised the shield spell you used. He saw you flinch the moment you cast it and fear in your eyes as if you were waiting for an aftermath. It never came but you were on edge for the next few hours.
Approaching you after noticing you were still on edge, nervously fidgeting with a coin in your hand to get rid of the more obvious jitters, you denied all claims. If Caleb is good at anything it’s providing a verbal slap in the face through reality check and calling out your bullshit. He wouldn’t press for answers because your past is your past and he had no right to demand it if you were not willingly offering it.
It took you some time but you came clean. You told him how your relationship with practical magics is destructive and hurts people. Because of that you vowed to distance yourself from magic altogether but sometimes you slip and hope no one notices and no ill effects follow you casting any spell. Caleb understands, better than anyone perhaps. He admires your restraint and capability of stepping away from the thing that causes you so much pain; something he never could.
If you’re able to and with your consent Caleb would help you work through your fears, only for your own wellbeing because one thing is undeniable; your magic is part of you and if you never learn to live with it, that it is part of you, you might never be able to accept it. What happens when you’re unable to fear the magic? Will you instead turn to fear yourself like he had himself for so long? No, if he can spare you a fate like that he’d do anything.
Beau:
You never hid the fact you were schooled in the arcane. It just never clicked you are actually a very capable spellcaster especially donned in battle worn armour and your tastes for sharp edged pointy things, and a ‘will cut a bitch’ attitude whenever someone comes for you or those close to you.
Perhaps a little ashamed to admit the first time Beau actually saw you cast a spell it was a simple mage hand cantrip. You couldn’t reach a book on a high shelf at the Archive and you thought it disrespectful to physically climb the bookcases to get it. Beau may or may not have been watching you, more like admiring your muscle. Nothing better than a strong, gorgeous ripped bookworm. Mouth agape you caught Beau staring. You had to snap her out of it. Beau had a million questions, maybe half of them flirty. You answered her questions best you could, even the flirty ones but when it got to where you learned magic you sort of just shut down so she dropped the subject. Beau knows how to read the room no matter how much she might want to press for answers. She’ll refrain. For now.
This doesn’t mean Beau drops the subject entirely for all future reference though. She’d leave hooks for you in case you’d be in a more talkative mood and grow frustrated when you ignored or brushed off the so-many-eth attempt to get you to spill some beans. One day she sat you down, giving you one more chance to tell her what’s going on. If you wanted to tell her, you could. If not, she’d never ask again or try to get you to talk about it.
That’s when you broke down, explaining all the terrible memories of your ‘studies’. You were the only child in a long line of powerful mages to barely be able to cast a cantrip growing up. You were a disappointment and disgrace to your family. Rigorous hours practicing and studying from dawn til dusk without breaks. Not being allowed to go outside and play with friends until you got this one thing right. Nevermind the fact that your family let it be known you were a disappointment.
You’d been working hard already to break the circle but couldn’t prevent the bad memories haunting you every time you felt like you had to cast a spell. No matter how far you ran, whenever you reached for the components, spoke the words or performed the somatics, you were hit with a sense of incompetence. Beau’s not unfamiliar to the need of living up to the expectations of family. She’d be there for you if you wanted to take up magic on your own terms or distance yourself from magic entirely.
Fjord:
Didn’t have a single clue you were magically inclined. But to be fair you never gave anyone a reason to believe you were. You were born with magic and you had seen what developing those abilities had done to others like you. You like yourself the way you are and would very much prefer not to fall into the servitude of some evil entity in the hunger for more power.
You’d seen Fjord spiral into the clutches of his patron and saw him struggle to get away from the leviathan. Ritualistically you tapped into the power bestowed upon you to search for a way to break the pact between warlock and patron. Of course it was doable and your powers could show you the way but you needed to get stronger first…
Fjord grew worried. You’d begun talking to yourself, spending nights awake and an odd sense of paranoia had grasped you. A storm hit once and you had nowhere to shelter. The little voice in your head came back. You could stop that storm. All it would take is a little tiny taste. When you agreed you had no control over yourself. Hand held up to the sky, eyes white and skin ashen, a bright light emitted and the clouds disappeared. Needless to say this did not go unnoticed by anyone.
Obligatory endless questions. Obligatory none answered. You retreated within your shell choosing to ignore your surroundings and feeling the nagging in the back of your head. Fjord heard you speaking to yourself at night. Asking the skies if it was worth it. Worth what? You heard him and just because the voice in the back of your head told you not to, you told Fjord everything; how you had been trying to find a way to keep Uk’otoa at bay, how to break his connection with his patron and give him freedom and what would happen to you if you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for more after completing that goal.
Fjord refuses to let you sacrifice yourself for his freedom. He’d rather have you fighting the evils of the world at his side than end up fighting you in an attempt to save yourself from what you might become. The two of you would work together to repress the inkling for more power and keep your powers at bay and under control. While you might want to see it differently, for the good of everything you’d stay far away from any magical forces seeking to awaken the power you were born with.
Veth:
Veth made it clear she would not understand why anyone would pass on the opportunity to learn or develop magical abilities should they be available to them. She literally spoke those words and you just nodded along changing the subject. You’d rather not lie but is this lie by omission?
It was an emergency. A fight had gone south and you were losing quickly. Clerics on their last legs, a wizard down being dragged away by the monk and Veth running in arrows blazing and screaming to protect her friends. You had to get out and none of you were quick enough at this point to all get out. So you did what you had to do. A quick expeditious retreat resulted in conveniently released magic missiles at your enemies, grabbing the halfling who got out some last shots you misty stepped your way to safety. You shouted to the others you were safe immediately knowing to keep your mouth shut for the next minute. Bless the gods the surges weren’t that bad this time.
Safely returned Veth commented on what you did. Did you take those scrolls? Did you buy that misty step enchanted item after all? Those were the only logical explanations right? Yes but they weren’t true. So you told Veth the truth. No scrolls or enchanted items were involved. Why didn’t you tell anyone you could do that?! It would have been so helpful in the past! Look how many buttons you could have helped her get!
You calmly explained her you could cast spells and were actually quite good at it one point your magic is dangerous, and the surges uncontrollable the state you’re at. While this time the reward by far exceeded the risks in this situation, you’d rather prevent killing those around you in a blaze of glory if you can. Wild magic surges are no joke and you’re so afraid of hurting the people you care about you’d rather step away from magic completely than live with the knowledge you could be the end of your friends and family.
Veth still has a hard time understanding your reasoning being prone to risky behaviour herself but accepts your views and respects your decisions. While you may not practice magic you still know it and after some persuasion, the woman gets you to teach her a thing or two. Of course all used for the good of mankind of course…. She just failed to specify who’s.
Jester:
You’re a special one. The Traveler told her so after all! He just didn’t tell her in what way specifically but you are special! That Traveler of hers may know a bit more than you’re comfortable with so you’ve been wary of the green cloak should he see the need to reveal your secrets. Luckily he cares about Jester and revealing your secrets would hurt you and you being hurt makes Jester upset so you can take comfort in the Traveler’s attachment to the tiefling.
Pixies came to haunt you in the night. They were meant to send you a message. Someone wanted you to stop running and accept your fate. Pissed off as you were you fought them off but when some tried to get away and your bow out of reach you were forced to release the bursts of bright green energy. Regret hit followed by fear. What if your patron could find you now? What if they came to get you or tried to hurt your friends to get you to cooperate? You will never be a puppet again and if a cantrip screwed this up for you….
“Oh. My. Gosh. Why did you never tell me you could do magic?” Jester exclaimed waking up Fjord just to tell him your eldritch blasts looked so much cooler than his. Guess the cat’s out of the bag… You had to prevent Jester from waking up the others to tell them you’d just gotten even cooler than you already were.
Successfully sending the others back to sleep you took Jester aside. Your hands still shaking, you asked her to talk to her god and ask him if he knew someone might be looking for you and getting close. The Traveler obliged but he wanted to hear the story behind your predicament. You told Jester everything ignoring the green hooded figure. How a being from another realm tricked you into an agreement. From then on you became a warlock.
You didn’t like being a warlock and you being stuck in such a binding deal lead to a very abusive relation between you and your patron so you did everything in your power to get away from them. Luckily crossing the planes is a lot more difficult and limits their capabilities quite a bit. Jester promised she’d protect you and of course the Traveler can be your new god so he’ll protect you too. Both you and the Traveler might not have been in full agreement with this statement. Jester understands you wanting to be far away and never see your patron again. She’s seen her mom get rid of the people getting a little too close for comfort or too attached and possessive so she knows how to deal with them.
Caduceus:
From the beginning you knew you couldn’t hide anything from Caduceus no matter how hard you tried. This lead you to just never specify anything. If he picked up on thing and asked about them then you’d answer, if not, you weren’t just going to say anything. Not even to explain yourself. Let him draw his own conclusions.
You may once have been a devout follower of your god, the one who bestowed upon you the powers you’d need to uphold their tenets but you veered from that path. Not everything is as black and white as some people claim it to be. You learned the hard way afraid of repeating your mistakes you’d only revert to your old habits in the most dire situations.
Caduceus had gone down. Jester was too far away and you were the only one able to get to him in time but you were out of healing potions. A quick lay on hands later and Caduceus was back on his feet albeit a bit confused about how you had managed to get him back to the land of the living. Talk later, he told you after seeing you mortified of what you had just done through the relief of seeing Caduceus alive.
Talk later you did. You couldn’t run away from your problems. Caduceus wouldn’t let you. You told him how you had done terrible things, hurt people because your god willed it so. You thought you were doing the right thing until you were faced with the truth and consequences. That’s when you stepped away from your life as a paladin; a vessel for your god.
You kept the sword but refused to use the magic; proof of your ability to hurt people who were worthy of redemption. Over many months Caduceus would help you see that your magic is nothing to be afraid of as long as you wield it with a good conscious and to protect instead of seek vengeance. There’s a fine line between being righteous and being just. The Wildmother taught him as much. Maybe she could through him, show you the same?
Yasha:
Whenever someone played a happy tune or began singing you’d retreat and block out your surroundings or find anything you could to distract you from the sound. Yasha just thought music’s not for everyone and maybe these songs and melodies just were’t your style. However when you asked her to please stop humming a tune while you had watch together she became a bit suspicious.
Spending some downtime at a tavern, deep in your cups Yasha was being bothered by a rather persistent asshole. On the verge of a fight breaking out you stepped in front of the barbarian and in a singsong voice told the asshole to kindly piss off and find company elsewhere with someone actually interested. The act alone made your stomach churn so you ran off.
You didn’t like controlling people. It didn’t even take a rhyme or proper verse. All it took was some booze and a melody in your head. This couldn’t happen again. Yasha had come after you to check on you and when you told her to stop, she stopped, frozen in place unable to move. You immediately dropped the accidental spell you cast putting distance between you and Yasha.
Yasha assured her it was fine and with your permission approached. A hug from the gentle goth was all it took for you to turn into a sobbing mess. When the sobs calmed down you told Yasha how you were cursed with your voice. Song and rhymes, tunes and melodies constantly plagued you afraid you’d go along with them and people got hurt because you couldn’t control your voice.
For the longest time you were uncomfortable using your voice but with your permission Yasha would help you practice. She can take a hit if you lose control badly but this fear is no good for you. She’ll play sweet serenades, some prettier than others as she too needs practice, the both of you can practice together learning and relearning the things you grew to love together.
Mollymauk:
Mollymauk doesn’t care about your shit. Everyone hides something and as long as those secrets aren’t a danger to those around you it’s all fine. Though he can’t deny being a bit curious when you snuck off to burn a suspicious stack of paper…. lighting the flame without tinder, flint and steel, or anything.
The next few weeks involved Molly trying to get you to use magic again, asking you to do small tasks much easier to complete with magic than they would be manually. You didn’t budge. Somehow he couldn’t get you to do anything. You’d complete the task the hard way each and every time. He began to wonder if he might have imagined the whole thing.
He spent the whole night tossing and turning until he decided to give up on sleep and just face you with the question to be done with it. You were gone, the light of a fire a bit away from the rest of the group. He found you watching the flames, tears in your eyes and devoid of all emotion. He’d seen Caleb in a similar state before. That’s when it hit him. This was pain, fear and trauma and you’re disassociating to get through this.
Sitting down next to you he’d place a hand on your shoulder, when you don’t stop him he’d wrap it around your shoulder letting you know he’s here for you when you need him. His views don’t change. Everyone is entitled to their secrets and keeping their lives to themselves. If you want to talk, he’s here but he’d accept your silence too despite his curiosity. Luckily for his curiosity, you told him everything. The torments of the past and the family you lost, the pain you’ve caused countless others and how you’re trying to pay your penance and make right your wrongs.
You’re glad to have Molly at your side be that to cheer you up or listen to you. He’s there whenever you need him and will take no for an answer when you don’t want to talk about something. He won’t ask for further details but will do anything to show you you’re on the right path and leaving a place better than you found it when you can’t see it.
#critical role x reader#critrole x reader#critical role#mighty nein x reader#mighty nein#caleb widogast x reader#caleb x reader#beau x reader#beauregard x reader#fjord x reader#veth x reader#nott x reader#jester x reader#caduceus x reader#yasha x reader#mollymauk x reader
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𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝘼𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚
𝘼/𝙉: This is my piece for my very own collab 'Ice Cold Heart' and also my excuse to delve into some more canon rather than fanon Hawks, because canon Hawks has been clouding my mind lately and I needed to get this out
𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Hawks/fem!Reader
𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Angst, mentions of sexual themes
𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2k
"I'm in love with you"
The precious meaning of a phrase is only defined by the weight you decide to put on it. And today you have decided that with your words you'd give birth to what's only going to give you and him pure, undefined pain. An elephant in the room if you may, an ogre of emotions that otherwise would be unwanted to stand between the two of you.
You think 'otherwise' as if it's not unwanted already. The unrequited nature of your sentence will linger in your heart more than you'd like to admit, but you're ready to lift your eyes and meet his golden ones, ready to be judged with the coldness of his gaze, ready to be treated like you've expected you will when coming into his office.
You still have that hidden truth to spill to him, and it surpasses the one you spilt already, but you hold your dry tongue in your mouth for now.
What could possibly only hurt like a kitten's scratch -his mute, his echoing silence- is rather twisting numerous sharp daggers in your chest, twirling over the wound of your feelings, ravaging any hope for salvation you had been left with. You wonder how your friends ever managed to convince you that the hardest thing about confessing was the part where you had to build up your courage.
Your courage never suffered from a hit as you walked to his office, despite being terrified for what you had to say to him. Paperwork in your hands and none of a nervous trembling in your lips, iron clad feet clashing with the tiles of the building. You've made your decision to get rid of all those feelings, not wanting to spend another night bent on his desk or sprawled under him, only for him to act like he barely knows you in the office and then to be all greedy and sweet in public events.
His games, that god awful behavior of his, the way he chooses to use you -even if you feel like you use him to, to turn him into something that he's not with your imagination- you're tired of everything. And then there's also the fact that he's a traito-
"Aha"
The answer to your confession wasn't supposed to affect you either for better or for worse, rather this confession was an egotistical act, Mirko, or any of your friends previously said, that one had to endure in order to take the next big step. Whether that was a step accompanied by your desired person, or a step to redeeming the anathema a rejection could have caused.
Frankly it wasn't that the golden orbs staring back at you were rejecting. If anything, they didn't bore into yours in a way that left you hollow, but they didn't fill your heart with dreams either. And what your original intentions begged to stand up for was that you didn't care of any significant reciprocation.
You wish you didn't care where those words you had uttered had left Hawks, or in what inner conflict they had found him in. But you know, he won't be in any conflict about what you have to say, what you've kept inside for too long, what has bled onto your morals like a run over animal on the street, left to rot and seep into the road as it disintegrates under the sun or the cold.
Unbeknownst to you, deep down in his head, Hawks doesn't know how to feel, or how to react; its all too sudden for him to process. The way you spoke of it so casually yet, so lightheartedly, your tone suggesting that you let your most vulnerable object of thought slip through your fingertips, like you let it fall out of your head and shutter on the ground.
"I-"
It isn't much, just the start of a sentence that he hopes he could compose, but the way your brows furrow at the sound of his voice does nothing other than startle him.
You should have known, he's not going to give in to such demands. Love, relationships, he doesn't have time, space, a mindset, doesn't need you to be that one for him, he wants all the stability he can get when he wants it, however he wants it and he's gone when he gets it, swift as a bird, cold as stone. That doesn't necessarily tickle a nerve inside of him, you know the rules, even if he feels bad about you suffering like this there's nothing he can do -he doesn't even know how- and he chooses to let you speak, get it out, before he has to go and be a hero for the day.
"No, no save it," You wave him off "here's my resignation"
The authority in your voice isn't the one he was used to. As his eyes blink, honey colored orbs taking in the un-glory of your posture, he's met with the sight of your hands hugging around your own form; the ultimate sign of vulnerability, uncertainty.
"You don't have to quit because you fell in love with me"
'You fell in love with me' he speaks of the words so little, as if they're dirty, as if you're in this with yourself and they're so suffocating that he can't stand them, only to softly graze your ear with vore intentions, to tell you that you don't have to quit, to urge you to not take this too serious.
Your feelings aren't serious.
"I do" You speak, trying to jab him back with some crafted poison in your tone. But you know what you're going to say next will definitely do it for him, it'll poison him we'll, whether it makes you endangered or not. "I was on patrol when I saw you doing business with Dabi, so save it."
The weight of those words is what finally serves as a huge hit to your courage. You've outed yourself greatly and now the chewing on your bottom lip is profound and painful to a great amount. Hawks' face is contorted in a terrifying darkness, thick brows clenched above his eyes and lips pushed into a thin line, nose scrunched.
"Listen-"
"I just don't want to be a part of this"
That's when he knows he has to be forgiving.
Hawks isn't used to you, a fierce warrior of a hero, clenching your jaw tensely or furrowing your brows in sorrows. He isn't used to you being so upfront with your emotions either; whatever the two of you have shared in the past has been in words of reluctance and mind states of regret, each one desperate to prevent your hearts from getting hurt.
He knows his heart won't get hurt though, it's shielded way too well inside his chest, in such way he feels hollow, driven by anything other than the stupid organ. You should have known, he tells himself, before you got involved so deeply, but he left you with no time for thoughts like these, wiggling you under his wing while biting your skin instead of pecking it.
Just as Hawks has always known that he's going to hurt you no matter you rejecting labels or bottling feelings up and absolutely forbidding the mention of them, it's obvious that things can't go his way. He isn't used to you eyeing him with pain gathering in the corners of your eyes, but he's willing to play the part you're setting up for him right on the spot. Even if he has to admit, the thought of being painted in this color jabs him just like knowing things won't go back to the way they were between the two of you.
He doesn't mind. He had to let it go because by the time you know about the truth you won't even remember his face, or the way his voice sounds, and he shouldn't think about this but he does, in a way, in the very back of his head.
His mission, he thinks, is far more important than his personal life -it's a top priority for greater good.
Once greater good is achieved he's going to be able to invest in a personal life that involves feelings and excitement and even the noble pleasure of being able to choose between priorities. Right?
So, whatever he's feeling now -the tight knot in his throat, the painful lack of oxygen in his throat, his gut twisting and churning and his limbs alternating from spasming to going numb- he has to ignore.
But for the worse part he doesn't really know how to act. The confession that has startled him is still lingering on repeat in the back of his head, fueling the small ignition of a flame that begs to put you on a pedestal, or rather, it began to make his mouth move on it own, to tell how that he too wishes he could be with you as more than this secretly exclusive arrangement you've set.
Maybe, his heart pleads, maybe he can tell you about his mission and clear up the confusion.
He wonders if that would be a part you'd want him to play for you.
"I won't give you away. So long as you don't involve me in this, I don't have ulterior motives for protecting civilians."
"I-" He starts, darkness bottling up in his gut, stomach falling after going utterly numb. Somehow he knows he's not going to utter a word if he keeps acting like that.
"Hawks-"
"You'll get over it."
It's sharp and it's short and it sends heavy, lethal daggers to your chest, so much that you can feel your heart beginning to slip from in between your ribs, out of chest and onto the floor of his office. It'd be a mess to clean, the blood if your agony and your heartache rightfully on his floor. For him to look down on, this time, physically.
"I will"
He knows his words hurt, just by the mere look your face contorts and he won't utter a word about what you just said, he'll link you to Endeavor and when the time comes you'll know. His cause is greater than your heart breaking, greater than chasing after that small arrangement he's made so he can get physical release from time to time.
It's better not to react. Not to terrorize you into anything for if you're afraid you might out the wrong truth to the heroes in your circle and his plan -the commission's plan- will fail and the heroes will lose this war. And he can't lose.
You want to look at him with menace and disgrace, not to atone him for the way he's making you feel; crashing your dreams, poisoning your morals and your thoughts, living down to your expectations so much that you don't know what to think of him.
Like he did when you saw him after closed doors, cold and unapproachable, to the point he's scary. Manipulative so much that you found your way under him without even realizing how fast it happened, what impact it had to you to get involved with him. You just want to be out, unwielded from his spider's web and latch yourself into something real and kind, to serve your purpose as a hero. As a human.
When he opens his mouth again you're not scared anymore, of what he may do to you, of what will happen next.
"Hand me your papers so I can sign them"
Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3
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