#I weep over them on a regular basis
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Paramedic mom and her paramedic children
#tommy vega#tk strand#nancy gillian#911lsedit#911 lone star#my edits#I weep over them on a regular basis#paramedic trio#flashing gif cw#guns cw
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Mortal kombat kabal, fujin, hasashi, and kuai liang react to y/n who can’t die and things like wounds just immidiatly heal, so like y/n (while dating them) just jumps of the roof and lands in front of them and the boys are having a panic attack til there bones start snapping back in place and her neck snaps in place and she just looks up after her jaw pops back into place and just goes “hi :)” not even bothered as the blood goes back into them and wounds close back up, just ignore this if you don’t wanna do it, that’s fine too! have a good day!
MK Lads x Unkillable!Reader Experiencing Bodily Harm
Kabal
Now Kabal has seen some shit in his time, he's fucked around and found out so to speak. But nothing could prepare him for how you casually mangle your own body for no particular reason other than that you can.
The most egregious incident of your abilities was when Kabal accidentally exploded the kitchen microwave. This would've been bad enough by itself except that the explosion lodged a large piece of metal shrapnel directly into your face, embedding itself several inches into your skull.
You lie there, motionless, bleeding profusely, and all Kabal can do is stare in horror. He's seen you come back from shattered bones, torn limbs, but never something like this. Tears pour silently from his eyes, crumbling to the floor to weep before you jolt into a sitting position, arms moving about animatedly until your hands reach the chunk of metal and slide it delicately from its crevice in your head.
You turn and beam at Kabal, the bleeding canyon in your face reaching from your mouth to your forehead. His tears don't stop even as the vast gash begins to knit itself back together again. Overwhelmed with relief, Kabal could only manage the words: "Babe, what the fuck?".
Fujin
You would imagine that after living for several thousand millennia, that the gods see a lot of death, in all its many forms. Fujin had been warned away from befriending mortals because one day they would go and leave only grief in their place.
In dating you, Fujin had convinced himself that the eventual grief would be worth the relatively brief time he got to spend with you in his life. But despite all his efforts, he feared that death would take you from him too soon.
Because of your abilities, Fujin can never fully let go of this fear, as you have literally no sense of self-preservation. You'll dunk your bare hands in boiling water, merrily stroll into oncoming traffic, and even jump off high ledges to save the time of taking the stairs. Regularly your antics have left your body mangled, limp, and twisted, like a ragdoll filled with blood.
No matter how much Fujin cries, pleas, begs for you to be more careful, your wounds heal themselves and once more everything is fine. Seeing you defy death and Darwinism on such a regular basis never quite eases the pain Fujin feels when he sees you get hurt, but he is comforted that death will have to work a lot harder to take you from him.
Hanzo Hasashi (Scorpion)
I dare say going through Netherrealm and back does a number on someone, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. So Hanzo isn't coming from the best place in terms of dealing with loss or grief. Especially considering the whole dead wife and kid situation.
So I would suggest that despite your powers, don't use them in front of Hanzo, just... Don't. He's seen enough and watching you suffer isn't good for his healing.
It's mostly because he still carries a lot of regret over his actions as Scorpion and even after all his hard work still struggles to leave that part of himself behind. So you can imagine that seeing you take any kind of damage can send him back into an angry vengeful fire demon.
This isn't to say that you can never use your powers, as Hanzo is capable of channeling his rage, particularly in kombat. In those situations, you are at liberty to get your ass kicked as much as you like. But outside of that? Please remember to be mindful of how much Hanzo loves you and that he just wants you to be safe and happy.
Kuai Liang (Sub Zero)
From a psychological perspective, it would be fair to say that Kuai Liang is a man well-acquainted with pain. With this in mind, you'd assume your abilities would be disturbing for Liang, but instead, he finds a strange sense of peace. He's seen you take deadly hits again and again and you just keep getting back up!
This isn't to say that there haven't been close calls. Liang still has nightmares about the day you asked him to remove the insanely large icicles from the roof of your Arctika home. Liang was busy at the time and didn't go to remove them until after you came back. When he met you outside, he closed the door behind him, sending enough shockwaves through the building to dislodge the largest icicle, which proceeded to plunge directly into the back of your neck and out through your chest, popping your head clean off.
The icicle shatters, your body crumbles, and your severed head rolls lazily toward Liang. He stands frozen, unable to comprehend how the love of his life has just been decapitated in front of him. When he drops to his knees to cradle your head, he almost doesn't see your headless body rise unsteadily before stumbling towards him. In a fit of alarm, he launches your head into the air where your body catches it, holding it over the shoulders when the neck vertebrae snap back into place, your throat and flesh regrowing as well. As the nerves reattach your face lights up and moves again, you smile meaningfully at Liang, who now cowers in front of the door. Needless to say, any hazards you ask Liang to take care of are now immediately dealt with.
#mortal kombat#mortal kombat headcanons#mortal kombat x reader#kabal#kabal x reader#fujin#fujin x reader#scorpion#scorpion x reader#hanzo hasashi#hanzo hasashi x reader#sub zero#sub zero x reader#kuai liang#kuai liang x reader#qdbs writing
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Here's the thing about problematic fictional characters.
Humans are problematic. We are complex fucked up little creatures and cannot possibly do everything right all the time.
Someday, you are going to be an adult. Maybe you are already. And your best friend is going to have an affair. Or two of your buddies are going to start talking about the times they almost got DUIs and how they got out of it. One of your friends is going to buy [product] when we're supposed to be boycotting [product]. Someone you love will get an MBA, or develop a fast fashion habit that makes you want to weep for the environment, or make a parenting choice you really don't agree with.
Maybe not any of these specifically, but people you love will do things that you think are wrong. It will happen. There is no way to avoid this. And sure, maybe once or twice it will be something so awful you cannot or will not look past it.
But if you cut out everyone who fucks up, you will be alone forever.
Fictional characters who are otherwise likable "good guys" but do some shitty things don't normalize the shitty thing. They normalize the idea that everyone has their areas of shittiness - yes, even you, to other people - and it's okay to still like them.
People know cheating is bad. No one's reading the Witcher books* and saying, "Hey, this otherwise decent guy keeps cheating on his girlfriends! That must mean cheating is okay!" No! That would be ridiculous. No Arya Stark fan decided to go on a killing spree over it. No Buffy fan thinks every decision Spike ever made was morally correct and fine, even if they do like him. No one watched House and said, yeah that guy's normal and I should act just like him!
We have this conversation on a broad cultural level on a regular basis, it seems - was this thing this famous person said really bad enough for them to deserve getting canceled? Are they inciting violence, or do they just have an opinion we don't like? Or just not know something we didn't realize isn't common knowledge? - but we don't really acknowledge that sometimes it's personal. Sometimes the person who says or does something bad is someone you actually know, someone you see and talk to and love, and you'll have to decide for yourself if it's worth cutting them out of your life. Most of the time, it's not.
Slightly shitty characters prepare us for slightly shitty people. They help us understand that we don't have to like everything about someone in order to like them. And they help dampen the self-hatred when we inevitably realize we were the ones who made a shitty mistake this time.
Moral purity is an impossible standard to hold anyone to, but if it's all we're used to seeing in the stories we love, it becomes easier and easier to forget that.
*which, disclaimer, I've never read, or seen the show, but this post was inspired by a post about them and how the show filed off all the "problematic" edges that made the books good storytelling in the first place
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Gaurdian Adoption Day (A Concept)
Gaurdian Adoption Day is a day that occurs when there is a certain amount of Gaurdians who have lost their Ghost in unfortunate circumstances and they can't be left to weep for too long anymore.
Gaurdian Adoption Day or GAD is a Tower based event hosted by the Vangaurd who will gather Gaurdians that have been transported, guided, found, or travelled home alive. These Gaurdians are still Gaurdians who have Light in them, and that's why they can't be classified as regular Civilians or a non-light bearing Vangaurd member.
During GAD, barriers around and near height hazards will be risen as well as multiple and I mean *multiple* announcements, precautions, and reminders to all in the tower that there will be a temporary increase of **Non-Revivable** people on the Tower. Provisions of safe but resilient bouncy houses, trampolines, books and crayons will be provided to keep some of our Gaurdians company.
Throughout the course of this event, small activities can be partaken in such as counselling, hug therapy with Dad(s) Saint 14 (and Orisirs if he's around), knitting with Zavala and so on so fourth, as well as pep talks with Shaxx and Saladin. There will be handouts of huggable sized Ghost plushies, Ghost shaped cookies, New Ghost Shells, New Ghost Shell voting (sponsored by Eververse) and other Ghost themed merchandise. There will be screenings, Ted talks, and multiple sit-down evaluations about safety for not only you but how to keep your Ghost safe.
'Ghost and Gaurdian Safety' 'Fashion or Practical Ghost Shells' 'Wiping Over Small Mistakes a Ted Talk by an actual Ghost' 'Transmatting Etiquette 101' 'Ghost Lore Podcast' '1000 Ways my Gaurdian has Died (Retrospective)' 'Ways You can Show How You Appreciate Your Ghost'
Volunteers would be much appreciated, and as much as a reward given for volunteering was opposed of, Ikora reasoned, giving out a cool new shader (like Photo Finish) and a banner would give more incentive for more Gaurdians to help out.
Yes, this is an over glorified daycare for Gaurdians, and this events goals are to help Gaurdians with their loss, Ghost to better cope, that and hopefully find a Ghost with no Gaurdian. Civilians or Non-light bearers who have Ghost friends can come along to see if their Ghost friend can find their Gaurdian.
When a Gaurdian is 'Adopted' by a Ghost, a photoshoot and handing out of Adoption Papers. A pen will be haphazardly taped on the Ghost for their signature on the official adoption document. These Gaurdians will be kept after close temporary watch to ensure their taking it easy and not getting ahead over themselves.
Ghost has become an extension of us as Gaurdians, and they are our friends, family, or even more to some others. They should not be seen as disposable or replaceable and GAD hopes to help show more appreciation to our dear Ghost who has to go through all our bullshit but still stick with us and love us on a daily basis.
#destiny 2#destiny ghost#destiny titan#d2#destiny#destiny hunter#destiny warlock#destiny2headcanons#destiny 2 fic#destinythegame#destiny the game
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What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/resturant)
What is their grooming routine? (how do they treat themselves in private)
What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? (Gets you thinking about socio-economic class, values, and how they spend their leisure time)
Do they have any scars or tattoos? (good way to get into literal backstory)
What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? (Good way to get some *emotional* backstory in.)
For Henry of course
I know this was a very hand-picked set of questions, and for that I adore you so much, Red. [Henry asks that you send Yves his love.]
TW | alcohol use, depression
1. Go to drink order?
He has two go-to's that he likes to rotate between. His favorite of the two is a Lion's Tail, an older-fashioned drink made from bourbon, allspice liqueur, lime juice, rich demerara syrup, and bitters, often garnished with lime peel. For the bars that don't happen to keep allspice liqueur on hand, a Boulevardier is his second choice (a drink very much like a Negroni, but made with bourbon instead of gin). He'll usually ask the bartender for a sugar cube or two thrown in to the latter.
You want to know the way to soften his heart a little, though? Order him a White Russian.
2. What is their grooming routine?
Most of his grooming routine is centered around shaving and around his hair. He takes the time to use a blow dryer, and chooses hair products that allow him to style his hair loosely up and back without it getting crunchy. He has one light-hold pomade that has been his go to for years. He also shaves on a daily basis with a classic solid-blade straight razor. He finds the rhythm of sharpening it on its strop very soothing, and uses it as a regular grounding practice that he's worked into his daily routine. (Yes, that's a bit of his nerdy psychologist side coming out: may as well practice what you preach. Besides, it does work.)
Henry also fairly regularly dyes his hair. He discovered a few years back that he is prematurely going grey, and covers the salt and pepper with his natural dark brown. A certain pesky vigilante already incessantly teases him about being an "old man" and knows he would hear no end of it if he found out he's going grey. (Though no, if you asked him, you won't get him to admit it.)
He prefers woody/musky scents in his soaps, and sandalwood is one of his favorites. While you would expect a man like him to also have a ludicrously expensive set of colognes, he actually has one middle class scent that is a long standing favorite of his: a little pink bottle called 'Joop! Homme'. It's a spicy-sweet scent with a rounded smell of musk, heliotrope, and grapefruit. [Yes, for those of you wondering, it is a real and very underrated cologne]
The last part of his routine before getting dressed is to apply moisturizer to his stump. As he'll tell you, there's nothing worse than the scar tissue starting to itch through the day.
3. What is their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go?
Most of Henry's readily disposable income goes to the upkeep of his four safehouses, or is used under a pseudonym for lobbying. But when that is said and done, the thing he spends the most on for himself alond is what Wes coined "The Second Library of Alexandria". Henry has a stunning collection of first-edition, rare, and historical books that would (and have) made some of his fellow scholars weep. It would make Henry turn red to admit how much he has spent on them over the last twenty-ish years, but safe to say that they alone account for more than what he has spent on his flat, safehouses, and the Audi combined.
4. Do they have any scars/tattoos?
Quite a number of the former. His largest scars are the ones that circle what is left of his arm, the surgical scar down the center of his chest that has accommodated several repeated heart surgeries, and one more under his left collarbone where his ICD was implanted. He has dozens more from the years of doing what he does, but they tend not to get noticed in comparison.
He has only one tattoo, and he got it out of necessity rather than desire: a simple medical tattoo on the left side of his rib cage where a defibrillator paddle would go, denoting his Long Q-T syndrome. (And yes, it has already saved his life twice.)
5. What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances?
There isn't a simple question to this one, because it depends so heavily on where the story we are. But Henry lets himself cry quite a lot, even if he almost always makes sure he's alone for it. His driving force is that he cares about people perhaps a little too much, and over the years he's backed himself into a horrible corner. Between murder and unspeakable violence, working under the crushing hand of someone he hates, keeping everything and everyone he truly cares about secret, trying to singlehandedly change the tide of power evil people hold over a city of millions, blaming himself for every single failure to do so, and feeling that there is no escape from the world he's built that won't cost the lives of innocent people? On top of being a psychologist who knows that crying is a healthy outlet for emotion and stress?
Yeah, he cries a lot.
In general, it's much more concerning when he goes through long spells without crying. His depression is fairly well-controlled on medication, but he still has breakthrough episodes where he'll feel hopeless and numb that can last for a few weeks at a time. And, what do you know, they're usually brought on by spikes of stress caused by any/all of the above somehow getting worse. It's those times that the people that care about him know to keep a particularly close eye on him, and it's a relief when he finally does find he is able to cry again at last.
#not to mention: the only person more miserable than the students having to write five page psychology essays#is the one who gets to grade them all#Liliholm and Page#Henry Liliholm#ask Wick#whump ask#it was absolutely delightful to get to go off like this#Henry's story has been even more dormant than Nadi's#and its so nice to be able to give him the limelight for a little bit#thank you again#alcohol tw#depression tw
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3 and 11 for the ask game?
From this game
3. weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?
Orsinio: Poison. From the beginning I knew he was a subtle, sneaky person who lacked physical strength, and his dangerous stat came from being an expert poisoner. It was a delightful coincidence how Nemesis went.
Samuel: Harpoon. He's a monster hunter with a long history of zailing.
Lucretia: Honestly idk? She's not a physical person. If she's upset she'll throw a punch. And she's a doctor, so she'd always have a scalpel on her person.
Miles: Charms. They're dangerous when it comes to manipulating people with spellbinding words. If it has to be a physical weapon, a dagger strapped to their thigh. They've never used it on anyone though, I don't think, just when the weeping scars thing happened.
Skies captain: Gun. A pistol is practical in the close quarters they spend most of their time in.
Got a bit personal lol so under the cut
11. what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?
Oh boy. Well let's start this off by saying all my little guys are morally gray and I would not make the same choices they do on a regular basis sldkfjsdl, also I am in therapy whilst these guys are in the Victorian era
Orsinio is my main and very special to me lol, he gets my disabilities, adhd struggles, and trans of gender. Also being short. And enjoying Mr Wines. He's the one that when I'm having a bad day I put in the wriggler
Samuel gets the autism wins, he embodies my desire to communicate without speaking, also the inherent gender of being a dad
Miles. What is going on with you, Miles. Very little in common with them, I made them intentionally to be a villain. I suppose there is some emotion there with complex feelings about family legacy but Miles has it taken waaaay to the extreme. And I did also make them to be very gender
Lucretia gets my complex feelings about being AFAB (I'm trans, she isn't) and feeling a connection to traditional femininity and attraction* towards men (*in the most aroace and bi sense for me, whilst the character is het-ace)
Skies Captain is also short. A bit of wish fulfillment, gets to feel comfortable in their transmasc/nonbinary gender while presenting femininely from time to time, and has their emotions taken seriously despite not being very expressive
Bonus: Horatio is Orsinio's older brother and gets the mental eelness with the multifaceted anxiety disorder
Would get along with Samuel and Lucretia and see them as cool older friends. Honestly could go many directions with Orsinio with his intense personality, but at the very least we'd be nice research partners and bond over world being inaccessible and whacking people with cane. And I would punch Miles within 30 seconds of meeting (almost everyone they meet has that response). Would vibe with skies captain, we'd exchange poetry.
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7, 57 & 73 <3
You are the best person in the world and I am passionately caressing your face dee <3
7. Post a snippet from a wip.
Ok here's the first line of an upcoming chapter from Gstaad: "The only thing Roman eats on a regular basis is fruit. Yeah, yeah, get out your you-are-what-you-eat jokes now."
And, since that was so short, here's a line from a chapter I'm not sure I'm going to publish since it basically covers the same ground as Water Runs Off Your Skin: "part of him thought that if he just got in bed with someone, some instincts would take over, or his fairy god-condom would come swooping down or something, things would just come together and his body would do what bodies are meant to do. Obviously, that doesn’t happen. Which is how he ends up hiding in a bathroom while Claire From Horace Mann gathers her stuff and leaves."
57. How conscious are you about including symbolism or foreshadowing in your fics?
For symbolism-- uhh, I try. Food is a pretty load-bearing symbol in my work (obv), but it's also built-in to the narrative, so I don't need to build it on top (if that makes sense.) As for foreshadowing-- only insofar as I actually know how the fic is going to end lol. (Water Runs Off Your Skin, for example, was actually relatively planned. And I think the fact that it wasn't going to work between Mel and Roman was foreshadowed-ish? Or at least, it didn't take a genius to tell there was a sense of doom pervading. I Didn't Write the Book was not pre-planned at all, but it had a similar sense because we all knew the events of the end of s3 were coming.)
TL;DR i try, but i am not very good at either unless the canon of the show or the content of the fic naturally lends itself to them
73. What do you tend to get complimented on the most about your writing?
Characterization and humor, for sure. Good Roman Voice is my crowning literary achievement, and may be until I die lol. Whenever someone says I write like an actual Succession writer, I Weep. I can say with confidence that I'm a pretty good mimic (to any Secret History or Veep heads, I've also done imitations of both of those styles to pretty good results I think.)
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Character building questions 5, 9, 17, & 45? 🥺
SOURCE • always open!
5. Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?
Yes, absolutely. Doesn't need to be thinking of anything. Simply stops blinking until her eyes get irritated enough that they begin to water.
There's no denying that bringing tragic events to the forefront of her mind does help to amplify the response, though a lone tear squirming down the side of one's cheek can be just as effective. These are deep wounds that never did heal and openly weep when picked at such as that time in childhood when her doll got stolen and no one believed her.
Alright, there's also the state of their family. It's neither Marcus' nor Cassiopeia's loss that instantly brings tears to her eyes, rather the reminder of her own failure to keep them close.
9. Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?
Mixture of both and prefers receiving gentle love. She is her own harshest critic so there's no need for more voices to point out her mistakes.
Tough love is what she is known to give to her family most of the time. For one, again, she is a natural critic; woe whoever would have married either of her daughters 'cause she would've been a nightmarish mother-in-law.
More importantly, she doles out tough love to her children to prepare them for the future. I believe that is true for most Noxians; there's no place for softheartedness in their society. Likewise, parents who coddle their children should know they are doing them a disservice. It's the same everytime: too-soft parents sending their ill-prepared progeny forth to represent their respective houses, only for them to get obliterated politically or even murdered over a minor slight. "Never my child," she vowed many years ago, and no one could accuse her of failing in that respect.
Romantically speaking, again, she prefers giving and receiving gentle love. She is not the most affectionate of individuals—it's hard for someone with her background—but she tried. From the moment she became aware there will be an arrangement in her future she promised herself she'd make the most of it. That she and Marcus were a good match made it that much easier.
Besides, she otherwise commands violence, more so since her promotion following Marcus' "successful" assassination, so her family and romantic life had to be fenced away from the harm and cruelty she dishes out on a regular basis. It needed to remain as a haven of sorts.
17. What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?
Her flaws. All those things she used to be abundantly praised on that changed radically. For example, she is particular about her hair. I've mentioned before that she was left with sparsity in places that she covers up. It's really not that bad, some degree of dysmorphia is present, but staring into a mirror for too long will have her noticing hairs out of place or a patch of irritated skin about her hairline that really isn't noticeable but she can see it.
As for what others notice first, it's a little difficult to tell. It depends on the individual. Mariam's gaze, for example, is always drawn to her clothes because she likes to take stock of weapons and weak spots in people that she can exploit if she's ever in a situation where she needs to defend herself against them. (Okay, chill.) That, and Soreana remains a stylish woman. So it could be her clothes that capture most people's interest. All the better, as those are a few precious seconds she can perform a multitude of actions in. On one occasion, she slipped a perfumed handkerchief into someone's pocket while they were busy admiring her headdress. This led to a cheating scandal and the removal of an important player and adversary. Oh, what, you thought she was doing it for fashion's sake?
When she's dressed down, it's likely her eyes. They stand out against her pale skin.
45. What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?
Katarina's midriff-baring outfits.
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THE CALL OF GOD 7
"Therefore,... I was not disobedient to the heavenly vision."
Acts 26:19 (NKJV)
"While the earth remains, SEEDTIME AND HARVEST, Cold and heat, Winter and summer, AND DAY AND NIGHT SHALL NOT CEASE.”
Genesis 8:22 (NKJV)
• Seed Sowing Principle brings favour on you and the work of ministry you do
- There is a seed time and a time of harvest for all we do (Genesis 8:22).
- There cannot be a bountiful harvest without consistent sowing plus other principles (Genesis 26:1-6).
- What provoked God’s BLESSINGS and FAVOUR on Solomon is the seed offering he gave to God (1 Kings 3: 3-5).
- Bountiful harvest is as a result of regular sowing (Ecclesiastes 11:1,6).
IT is your gift that will open the doors, Or make a way, for you (Proverbs 15:16).
- A giver would not lack favour: "THERE IS ONE WHO SCATTERS, YET INCREASES MORE; AND THERE IS ONE WHO WITHHOLDS MORE THAN IS RIGHT, BUT IT LEADS TO POVERTY. 25 The generous soul will be made rich, And he who waters will also be watered himself" (Proverbs 11:24,25).
• In Sowing
YOU SOW seed in obedience, as you are commanded by God, and you should not be sentimental about it.
- Seed sowing might be with tears, at times, but it has rewards: "THOSE WHO SOW IN TEARS SHALL REAP IN JOY. He [she] who continually goes forth weeping, bearing seed for sowing, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his [her] sheaves with him [her]" (Psalm 126:5,6).
- You cannot be obedient to seed sowing principle and regret!
• Sow in the right place.
- Sow to the right anointing, the anointing that blesses you and lifts you deserves your seed—money or material things.
- As a minister reaching out for souls should be of utmost priority in your ministry, reaching out brings favour.
- God will always favour a ministry that is mission based.
- Do not limit your ministration to the members of your church alone.
• Reach out wide
- Touch lives and lift people’s burdens.
- Some would not come to your church, but God would want you to minister to them—to do the work of a pastor in their lives.
- There are many who claimed to be Christians who lack pastors.
THE reason being that many pastors have left their places of assignments, hence God is looking for those who will care for such souls.
- There are pastors whose god is their belly:
18. "For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ:
19. whose end is destruction, WHOSE GOD IS THEIR BELLY, AND WHOSE GLORY IS IN THEIR SHAME—WHO SET THEIR MINDS ON EARTHLY THINGS."
Philippians 3:18,19 (NKJV)
- They are looking for money to buy designer shoes, and money for food.
- Having material things is all right, it is not bad, because we need them, we live in a material world, pastors should have them, but they should not be the reason, basis, for what we do for God—they should not be the reason for our service in God's vineyard.
- You should have a good heart, compassionate heart, a heart to bless the people God has brought on your way.
2 "SHEPHERD THE FLOCK OF GOD WHICH IS AMONG YOU, serving as overseers, not by compulsion but willingly, NOT FOR DISHONEST GAIN BUT EAGERLY;
3 NOR AS BEING LORDS OVER THOSE ENTRUSTED TO YOU, but being EXAMPLES to the flock;
4 and when the Chief Shepherd appears, YOU WILL RECEIVE THE CROWN OF GLORY THAT DOES NOT FADE AWAY."
1 Peter 5:2-4 (NKJV)
- Love the people and lift them out of their predicaments without any reservation, God will reward you for your labour of love (Hebrews 6:10).
- The truth is, if your motives in the work of ministry are all about money, you may not get it.
- If you are labouring all because of the money you wanted to get or make, you may be disappointed.
- You know you are not dealing with Man but God and God knows the intents of your heart: "As for you, my son Solomon, know the God of your father, AND SERVE HIM WITH A LOYAL HEART AND WITH A WILLING MIND; FOR THE LORD SEARCHES ALL HEARTS AND UNDERSTANDS ALL THE INTENT OF THE THOUGHTS. If you seek Him, He will be found by you; BUT IF YOU FORSAKE HIM, HE WILL CAST YOU OFF FOREVER" (1 Chronicles 28:9).
- If your motives are wrong in the services of the Kingdom, God would see to it that you do not get the material things that have been your focus.
- God would always frustrate a covetous leader.
• Do not allow pride
- Pride makes you not enjoy the favour of God, He humbles the proud and exalts the humble or meek (1 Peter 5:5).
"God resists, fights, the proud, but gives grace to the humble."
James 4:6 (NKJV)
- Humility makes you a candidate of favour.
• In summation:
(I) Success and Favour COME when you are doing what God has asked you to do.
(II) Favour comes when you obey the seed sowing principle.
~ Give personal tithes and corporate tithes—ministry tithes, or company tithes.
~ Give to the project commanded by God.
~ Sow to the life of your prophet—the servant of God who speaks to your life.
(III) You experience favour when you put yourself under the covering of your prophet or pastor.
(IV) Favour comes when you are Kingdom minded, you always think on how to
favour the Kingdom work—expand the work of God: "besides the other things, what comes upon me daily: MY DEEP CONCERN FOR ALL THE CHURCHES" (2 Corinthians 11:28).
• You will not fail in Jesus' name.
Peace!
#christianity#gospel#christian living#christian blog#jesus#the bible#devotion#faith#my writing#prayer
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🩰VIOLA x VIVI🦆
Duck emoji for our main man, Karoo!🦆
This is for my spontaneous event, which can be found here! This lovely request is from Twitter, and boy, was I stoked to get it! I’ve never written this ship before, and had a lot of fun with it! 💕
Vivi gasped, her eyes snapping open as if she had been sprayed with ice cold water. Her hand flew out to her right, grasping desperately for something familiar. Fingers curling into Karoo’s plummage, she took a deep breath, her mind racing as she tried to steady the frantic beat of her heart.
If she was being honest, the Reverie had been far less wondrous than anticipated. Not only had she been forced into quiet submission whenever a question flew her way, but the whole attempt to enslave Princess Shirahosi had left an absolutely foul taste in her mouth. Overwhelmed, for lack of a better word, she had wished to take a moment to herself, to bury her face in the soft fluff of Karoo’s neck and escape the world.
So, she had.
In between the fifth and sixth of roughly two dozen more meetings she was expected to attend, Vivi had snuck away to a quiet, unoccupied courtyard. Her supersonic duck at her side, she had laid beneath a mighty oak tree, its leafy canopy casting cool shade over the lush grass.
In the silence around her, Vivi had let her heart weep.
She had been so excited. She had thought herself ready to face the representatives of the other kingdoms, to participate in diplomatic conversation and plant seeds in the heads of others on how best to influence the growth of her country. She had thought they would listen.
She supposed it was mighty naïve of her to think that an entire country of Celestial Dragons, who placed themselves literally above the masses, would empathize with those considered animals.
Mary Geoise hadn't bat an eye at the terrible treatment of the royals from Fishman Island. Mary Geoise hadn’t bothered to hide the slaves scurrying through the hallways of the immaculate palace, their clothes filthy rags reflected in the pristine crystalline windows caging them within. Mary Geoise had flaunted their wealth and riches without a care, fully aware that there were people dying in poverty stricken countries.
Emotionally spent, she had let herself, for a brief moment, enjoy the manicured courtyard around her. The light breeze had sent a sweet aroma from the nearby garden wafting her way, filling her head with the memory of the flowers that decorated the Alabasta throne room – cultivated by a local florist that Vivi visited on a frequent basis. The man always made an effort to grow her favorites, a gesture that she found too kind, and tried to repay through regular patronage and meaningful conversation over a cup of tea.
Her head in a floral cloud, her body swathed in the hand-crafted silk of an Alabastan seamstress she had commissioned (insisting that the woman take her time and do what she could, that Vivi was happy to pay more than necessary if it meant food for the former’s family for a whole year), Vivi had drifted off to sleep.
She wished her dream had been pleasant.
Instead, the beautiful flora of mary Geoise had turned against her, vines sprouting from the center of vibrant flowers, curling around her limbs and sucking her body as dry as the deserts of Alabasta.
Thus, she had awoken with a start, panic clawing at her insides, briefly concerned that her country was once again under the thumb of Sir Crocodile and his Baroque Works.
It shook Vivi to her core that, perhaps, they were no longer controlled by an ex-warlord, but by the Celestial Dragons, now. Whether they had chosen not to move to Mary Geoise in the past, the original families who had ran the world and had stripped the Nefertari family of any grandiose political say in the grand scheme of things.
How was she supposed to be a good leader if she was expected to be silent? Was she to stand by as the royalty above the Red Line abused their power and sucked Alabasta dry, asking for more and more and never giving anything back in return?
Who was she if not a puppet, a figurehead for the true powers at play?
“Are you okay, princess?” A voice spoke up from the other end of the courtyard.
Vivi startled, shooting upright, neck cracking as her head swiveled towards the sound. Her eyes locked on to a beautful woman seated at a wrought iron bistro table. A long gown of deep purple, interrupted by ivory frills from the waist down, draped flatteringly against her silhouette as she crossed one thin leg over the other, fabric pulled up to reveal shapely calves and firm muscle. Perfect curls of the darkest chocolate mousse brushed against her shoulder blades, a pop of brilliant red found in a rose tucked behind her ear. Slender fingers lifted a small cup to her painted lips, pinky extended and spine straightened. Her deep chestnut eyes flashed in interest as she peered over the edge of the decorative porcelain.
“Princess Viola,” Vivi gasped, staggering to her feet. She nearly tripped over her cape, the fabric pooling around her feet as it slipped from her shoulders. “I didn’t realize you were here! I’m so sorry to interrupt your tea!”
“You interrupted nothing, Princess Vivi,” The crown princess of Dressrosa smiled – a sharp expression that oozed intellect. For a split second, Vivi half expected the woman to brandish a knife, to hold it against Vivi’s throat in a flurry of calculated movement. Something about this woman was dangerous.
Could she blame Viola, though? The princess had been a key part of the return of Dressrosa to the rightful royal family, which had left the entire island in a state of destruction and disarray. Viola was right to be wary, to carry herself on guard at all times. Dressrosa was vulnerable, and it would take a long time for the ccountry to recover entirely.
Hell, two years after the Straw Hats had taken down Crocodile, and Vivi’s country was still recovering.
There were fewer friends than foes to be found at Mary Geoise. Viola was not as naïve as Vivi.
“My neice tells me you are one of the good ones,” Dark ruby lips smirked, Viola cocking her head and watching Vivi in an expression of amused expectance.
“I am, I think...” Vivi answered, before blinking in surprise, “Wait, what? How did you know what I was thinking?”
Viola unfolded from the chair, the skirt of her dress falling to her ankles. Vivi immediately missed the way the sun gleamed on bronze legs.
“A lucky guess,” A breathy laugh fell from Viola’s perfect lips, manicured hands outstretched in offer as the click of her heels closed the distance between them. “You need to let go, Princess.”
“Of what?” Vivi blinked, bewildered, surprising even herself as she slid her hands against Viola’s palms.
“It all,” Viola grinned, curling her fingers around Vivi’s. Slowly, Viola began to dance. Simple steps relying on footwork and the sway of her hips.
Momentarily entranced by the sway of the purple fabric, the way the white frills flapped and spun and accented her every movement, Vivi didn’t realize that Viola was trying to get her to dance.
“Flamenco is an act of passion, of love,” Viola purred, tugging gently on Vivi’s hands, beckoning for her to mirror the movements, “Unlock the chains of expectation and feel the music around you – the whispers of the grass, the song of the birds.”
“Show me your true feelings,” Viola pressed, the affection in her voice bursting forth as Vivi began to dance. She felt clumsy and uncoordinated, a newborn foal prancing among stallions, though with every adjustment, every soft touch of Viola’s fingers to her hips to right her motions, Vivi’s confidence grew.
A wild grin split her lips as she spun around the courtyard, click-clacking her heels and swishing her skirt. Her bright hair swirled around her, a halo of blue sparkling in the sun like the ocean she craved to take to once more.
Viola lifted her arm, spinning Vivi below, dipping her low to the ground.
Vivi did not think, for even a second, that Viola would drop her.
“You are enchanting, Princess,” Viola whispered, her eyes brimming with fascination as she lifted Vivi upright. Turning away, she sauntered over to the garden, hips swaying enticingly with each step. When she returned, she held out a gift, musing, “A flower, for a woman with passion to rival the Pirate King.”
“You know what they say,” Vivi let Viola tuck the short stem behind her ear, woven into her hair to keep it in place. She offered a breathless giggle, “Birds of a feather flock together.”
Dark eyes squinting in amusement, Viola let her fingertips ghost over the flushed skin of Vivi’s cheek. “Let’s dance again, darling,”
“I look forward to it, Princess Viola,” Vivi nodded bashfully, internally begging the woman to stay even as she made for the entrance to the palace, the exit of the courtyard.
“Viola is fine, dear,” The beautiful woman smiled over her shoulder, “I am a princess in title, but Viola at heart.”
And then she was gone, the thick, glittering brick of Mary Geoise locking her inside.
As Vivi returned to her seat beneath the oak, leaning against Karoo’s slumbering form, she ran her fingers over the petals of the purple iris blooming over her ear.
Her heart beating to the melody of clicking heels and panted giggles, Vivi thought to how she hadn’t felt so alive since she fought for her peoplpe, since she took to the seas to make a difference.
A smile pulled at her lips, a soft whisper heard by an audience of no one, save for the one person who really mattered. “Well Karoo, I guess it’s time we figure out who Vivi is.”
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— ✧ * 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍
ask memes/sentence starters plucked from various callmekevin videos on youtube. warnings for mature language/nsfw themes
❛ no stone unturned unless it becomes slightly difficult ❜
❛ i’m happy with that ❜
❛ i’m not happy at all actually ❜
❛ i’m going to do nothing because i can’t do anything about that ❜
❛ you’re never too old to start rising up against the government ❜
❛ i’m really cheap so i don’t like spending money ❜
❛ oh this isn’t good ❜
❛ it’s not often you get to hear that ❜
❛ i might have shot too much but i was scared ❜
❛ you sounded like you were crying ❜
❛ stop struggling you’re only making it last longer ❜
❛ please die ❜
❛ i’m not cultured or educated or smart ❜
❛ i’m not one to sweep a problem under the rug or anything ❜
❛ my biggest fear is a peaceful life ❜
❛ this is gonna be awful ❜
❛ i’ll keep you safe don’t worry ❜
❛ i’m willing to rob him ❜
❛ you’re pretty calm about this whole thing ❜
❛ i was like openly weeping in the store ❜
❛ i have never seen a better use of a pipe bomb ❜
❛ hold on a second i think this guy is an idiot ❜
❛ i’ve accepted i’m a punching bag ❜
❛ talking was a mistake ❜
❛ just die already ! ❜
❛ oh a hostage situation, fun ! ❜
❛ well off to a pretty depressing start ❜
❛ i’m curious why the hell you keep coming over here ❜
❛ i don’t get any sleep on account of how miserable i am ❜
❛ you can cry in the pizza if you want ❜
❛ it might be VERY LITTLE but you don’t appreciate what i do for you ❜
❛ i think god is angry ❜
❛ i commit arson on a regular basis ❜
❛ it’s my birthday, can you kill someone for me ? ❜
❛ you’re all accessories because a lot of you peer pressured me into doing it ❜
❛ i don’t particularly care about him/her/them but i do care about money ❜
❛ god has given me a gun ❜
❛ an apple a day keeps the uncontrollable rage away ! ❜
❛ i’m going back upstairs where i feel less embarrassed ❜
❛ i’ve taken some time to think about it, i’ve consulted the internet and i’ve decided that murder is the best response ❜
#rp meme#ask meme#rp sentence starters#askbox meme#rp sentence prompts#rp ask#rp ask meme#sentence starters#rp#if ur curious which videos these are from i could not tell u bc this is from like 6months+ worth of videos#if ur ever sad go watch kev he will cheer u up
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Campaign Idea: The Heart of The Forest
"The lifeblood of the world has been drained to its last drops, once the heart fails, so do we."
The History
The heart of the forest was a secret for eons, the paths obscured by the will of nature. Within ancient texts and hidden murals the secrets of the heart can be discovered, its powers laid bare only to those that truly searched for answers.
From the heart the cure for all diseases and ailments can be found, age can be reversed, limbs regrown, lives saved. Many perished searching the world for the heart, even more gave it up as a fairytale. Yet one group succeeded, led by a great archdruid.
An avatar of a god had been struck down by a blight that ate away at their divinity, to maintain balance in the world the adventuring party persuaded the archdruid to guide them to the heart. It took many months and many trials to find, the twisting trails of the forest arduous even for the ally of nature.
The hearts guardian would not let them pass, so the party let their desperation take hold. They murdered the guardian, like a common animal. The druid was enraged yet the paladin struck them down, refusing to let their deity die over some beast.
And so the party cut into the heart, taking the oozing blood and feeding it to the god who convulsed before the blight receded, their grandeur returning. The god was grateful to the adventurers, granting each a wish within their power, one was wealth, another a weapon of great power, the third a guarantee from the god that when they die they will come to the gods realm, and curiously the last.
The final wish was for the party to leave the forest safely, recognising that without the druid they would likely die in the twisting forest. The god smiled and exerted their will, straightening the fractured paths and hidden trails. A single road led out the forest, perhaps a three day travel.
With that the god left, the party was met back home with a heroes welcome and accolades. They are now a story passed down in generations, the saviours of the gods.
The Hook
What happened next was where things took a turn. The god thought little of their actions, so grateful to be alive that the simple act of letting their protectors get home was without question.
Yet without realising they had broken an enchantment that nature itself had wrought, a protective defence around the very heart of life. The heart sat open to the world, a road now cutting through its maze-like home where any could wander through.
And so people did, some looking for the secret elixir to save their loved ones from death, others looking to save themselves. But then there were those that sought to make coin. Once a merchant company caught wind that the elixir was real they sent a convoy to the heart, the owner beseeching the king to sell them the "useless land" that was the obscure and impassable forest. The king sold it to the merchant company for only one-hundred gold.
The company threw out the commoners that had begun to settle there, before long palisades and guard posts were built around a huge complex that began to envelop the heart. From here the merchant company could bottle and sell the blood of life.
Sold for excesses of ten's of thousands of gold the company built a fortress around the heart, one so well fortified and manned that even the surrounding kingdoms feared the formidable force. It has been almost two centuries since it was first built, the same merchant leader standing atop a monopolised supply of eternal youth, selling it to the opulent to live forever as young and healthy.
However the price had just jumped to two-hundred thousand gold for a single mouthful, the rich elite now struggling to get their hands on the life-giving elixir. And what's worse, the regular users who cannot get their hands on the elixir have begun to age quickly and... mutate. Their hands ending in claws, their hair being replaced with black oozing vines.
But the true kick in the teeth for the kingdoms instead of the kings and queens are that the lands are dying, forests are blighted, crops are failing, even the bounty of the sea is dwindling. The heart of nature may be enduring its last fluttering beats, and the rich simply wish to squeeze the last few drops from it.
Some Ideas
While this is uncomfortably topical I do feel like it could be a good basis for a campaign. You must fight back the figurative (and maybe literal) corruption found within the land to give life to the source of life itself. Will you see the worsening world devolve into chaos as the rich (and often those in charge) fall to madness, could the earth turn to dust?
In terms of motivation players have a few different routes, the selfless:
"I wish to save the world and make it whole again"
The atonement:
"My god/family caused this, I must fix it"
The need:
"My (family member) is dying, and getting hold of that elixir is their only hope"
The selfish:
"That elixir can line my pocket, it can't do that if it's run out"
Or it can be a mixture of the above, someone employed by the merchant company to fix the problem, promising them an endless supply for their dying mother and riches if they resolve the issue. And of course I'd love to hear about different motivations you can think of, these are just a few off the top of my head.
As for how you resolve the issue that's up to you, there's always the mcguffin idea, an artefact that can heal it. But I like the idea that the heart needs straight up power to repair, and the lives of the sentient races are drops in the ocean, it would need a god. The party will need to convince a god to die to save the world.
This can go as smoothly or as rough as you like, you must complete some tasks for the god to "tie up some loose ends", or you need to overpower the god then drag their avatar to the heart and sacrifice them to it. A bit hardcore but will certainly make the players question how right it is to take a life (especially one that could be a good aligned god) to save the world.
We may all know the pragmatic answer but a divine being bound in golden rope, kneeling next to the drained pond below the mutilated heart, and one of you needs to kill the weeping deity, that's gonna be a gutpunch.
I would talk with your players about how dark you want it to go, since this can go in a rough direction. If everyone wants to participate this can be an intense emotional rollercoaster, just make sure in session 0 you know what may make everyone uncomfortable.
Art by Jakob Eirich
Words can't really describe how I feel about this picture, there's something ancient and foreboding about it, but I get this feeling of peace looking at it. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel, but damn do I like it. Thank you
#d&d#dnd stuff#dungeons and dragons#tabletop#rpg#Plot hook#Hook#Quest#campaign idea#campaign design#Lore#deity#gods#nature#corruption#blight#conflict
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Tedious Joys - Chapter 4 -
- Ao3 link -
It had been an inauspicious year to begin with.
A poor harvest led to famine among the common people, which in turn created conditions ripe for evil creatures of all sorts; the night-hunts that were often treated as playful competition by the cultivation world became more like the boring drudgery of everyday work, disciples setting off in packs on a regular basis all over, time and time again. The tension wore on the sects, some more than others, and dozens of small disputes began to rise up, needing to be dealt with. Lan Qiren’s schedule became busy, and then busier, and then became overwhelming; he was forced to discard one pastime after another in his efforts to hold back the rising tide, and in the end sacrificed sleep and sometimes meals to preserve only two: playing for Jiwei and spending time with his nephews.
It meant that he was unprepared, both mentally and physically, for word of the death of Cangse Sanren and her husband, which took over two years to finally come to ears of the Great Sects – such a shocking failure of information that Lan Qiren briefly wondered if it had been concealed intentionally.
The sudden shock of grief hit him hard.
He tried to convince himself that he had expected it, that she had expected it, that at least her son was now safe in the Lotus Pier, and yet all he could think about was that he had one less friend in the world. The sadness interfered with his focus, creeping in at all hours, uncontrollable, until one evening he was playing guqin with his nephews and looked up to find them both weeping uncontrollably from the music he was playing. When he tried to stop mid-song, he abruptly collapsed, and upon waking was informed that he had become feverish at some point in the night.
His sect doctors advised him to go into seclusion until he could control himself.
Lan Qiren refused.
They advised him again, this time with greater insistence, and with the support of his sect elders.
“Tell them to fuck off,” Lao Nie suggested, pouring a calming tea that he’d brought from Qinghe.
He’d come to visit with his sons, Nie Mingjue disappearing with Lan Xichen as always and Nie Huaisang engaged in the newest stage in his eternal battle of wills with Lan Wangji over a game of weiqi that they were both taking far, far too seriously.
(Despite knowing Lan Wangji and indeed Nie Huaisang better than most people alive, Lan Qiren honestly could not determine whether the two of them despised each other or were close friends. Lao Nie claimed the answer was both, simultaneously, but Lan Qiren didn’t understand that at all.)
“That is not how we do things here,” Lan Qiren said, accepting a cup. It was rude for him to allow a fellow sect leader who was his guest to serve him, rather than the other way around, but he had a headache from the persistent fever and exhaustion that was even more persistent, the boundless river of grief in his heart translating into physical agony, and anyway Lao Nie hadn’t exactly asked permission before proceeding. “It would be more appropriate for me to present a well-reasoned case for it not being necessary, based on rules, authority, and precedent.”
“Except you can’t put one together because you’re upset and tired,” Lao Nie said with a snort. “That’s stupid. You’re overworked, stretched too thin, you just found out that your friend is dead – you need sleep, not seclusion. Anyway, what happens if you do go into seclusion? Aren’t they always saying they need you to stick around to be Sect Leader so desperately?”
Lan Qiren rubbed his eyes. “It would not be true seclusion. I would be expected to continue certain parts of the work.”
“You’re joking.”
“It would be primarily administrative correspondence –”
“By that token, your brother ought to do it!”
Lan Qiren glared. “It’s not the same and you know it. And they are not wrong that I need rest.”
“From what I recall of what you’ve told me about your sect’s practice of seclusion, that’s not rest,” Lao Nie said acidly. “Surely there’s something I can do to help. I could send over some of my disciples…”
“Excellent idea,” Lan Qiren said, rolling his eyes. “We can replace all those rumors that I’ve been secretly pining for years over my best female friend with ones regarding my best male friend.”
“It is a little ‘hero rushes to save the lady’, isn’t it?” Lao Nie said thoughtfully, shaking his head in amusement. “But seriously, I came here for a reason, and it’s not Jiwei or A-Jue or anything like that. You’re always trying to help me, Qiren. For once, let me help you.”
Lan Qiren would normally protest this – because Lao Nie had so done many things for him over the years that it was an incorrect statement, because he hated the helpless feeling of letting someone do things for him, because that wasn’t something sect leaders did for each other – but he was tired and he feared seclusion and sometimes he thought it might be nice to do one thing that could be considered a little reckless before he died.
“Very well,” he said, closing his eyes and drinking the tea. “Do as you like.”
That was a dangerous thing to say to someone like Lao Nie, who promptly pulled three dozen Nie sect disciples from out of nowhere and sent them scurrying around hunting down evil with the energetic enthusiasm of youth entrusted with gigantic sabers and the freedom to use them as they would, while he himself settled in very happily in Lan Qiren’s home, sleeping on a guest bed, keeping away unwanted visitors and helping with any paperwork that didn’t explicitly require a Lan. He also recruited Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen to assist, despite Lan Qiren’s protests that bureaucratic busywork was not an appropriate way for boys of approximately fifteen and definitely twelve, respectively, to spend their time; both of them very solemnly assured Lan Qiren that they were more than happy to do whatever they could.
Even little Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang bullied their way into being involved, insisting that they wanted to do it more than they wanted to train or play, although at their ages there really wasn’t much they could do besides grind ink and run messages to the relevant recipients.
As Lan Qiren might have expected, rumors immediately started about some sort of torrid affair – life would be so much easier if everyone obeyed the rules against gossiping purposelessly – and they even got to the point that several of the sect elders cautiously hinted to him that although cutsleeve relationships were far from being in vogue, they had at no point been explicitly forbidden by the rules, and cited several provisions which seemed to favor such things.
Lan Qiren had thanked them for the reminder and caustically commented that he would be sure to incorporate that into his next set of lectures as he could see no other reason for them to mention it, and soon enough they backed off, shaking their heads. Still, those busybodies that had his best interests in mind were still preferable to the ones that started once more raising the idea of finding him a nice bride of suitable age – by suitable age, they meant too old for children, lest he get any idea of challenging his brother’s line of descent – before he did anything foolish like fall in love, or, worse, to act on it.
Obviously he had no intentions of permitting that.
Still, after a month of enforced rest, Lan Qiren was feeling a bit more himself. He took on more and more of the work, albeit supervised by five sets of judging eyes, and even began to play once more, this time without bringing anyone to tears. Jiwei and Xinfei rested together by the door in comfortable equilibrium, hot and cold, weak and powerful, and the jade pendant that Lan Qiren carried with him remained cool to the touch, not hot at all.
“You will need to go soon,” he told Lao Nie, who shrugged, not denying it – a month was a long time for a sect leader to be away from home absent some valid excuse like a war, not quite too long but starting to push it. No matter how effective one’s deputies were nor how much work one did from a distance, a sect leader was still necessary, in the end, or else Lan Qiren’s life would have been very different.
“Next week,” he said. “That’ll give me just enough time to take the boys home before heading back out again for the conference in Qishan.”
“There’s a conference? I wasn’t informed.”
“No, you weren’t, because I didn’t inform you,” Lao Nie said, utterly shameless. “You’re going to stay here and rest. It’s just a stupid party.”
“That doesn’t matter if it is also a stupid party which everyone else is attending,” Lan Qiren said sternly.
“Jiang Fengmian isn’t going, either,” Lao Nie said. “Doesn’t want to leave his new ward alone just yet…newest rumor has it that Wei Wuxian’s his bastard with Cangse Sanren.”
Lan Qiren shut his eyes. “Of course. Wasn’t I the one having the affair with her last week?”
“Perhaps it was a love triangle?”
“A square, at minimum. Don’t forget she had a husband.”
“A pyramid!”
“Lao Nie…”
Lao Nie laughed. “Jin Guangshan isn’t making it, either. His wife’s giving birth – predictions say to a daughter, I think, assuming this one survives the birth – and all accounts say that she’s threatened to cut his balls off if he even thinks of leaving Lanling City. So, you see, it really is just a stupid party, and by missing it you’ll be doing just the same thing as all the other Great Sects.”
Lan Qiren felt a sudden stab of misgiving. “Except you.”
“Except me,” Lao Nie said cheerfully. “Me and Hanhan.”
Lan Qiren truly did not want to know what went on in Lao Nie’s mind sometimes.
“Why don’t you refrain from going as well?” he asked, aware he sounded tetchy and irritable like some jealous wife in an opera. “If no one else is going.”
“Oh, I have to go. A-Han asked for me specifically,” Lao Nie said, and Lan Qiren thought to himself oh I’m certain he did, then promptly felt bad about doing so. Sneering for no reason was prohibited. “Someone’s gifted him with some magnificent saber for his collection, apparently, and he was boasting that it was the best there was right up until someone stuck their nose in it and said that it was all well and good but no comparison to my Jiwei.”
Lan Qiren could imagine exactly how well a statement like that had gone over with Wen Ruohan.
“And now he’s demanding you show up and produce evidence?” he asked, unimpressed.
Lao Nie grinned. “Ah, Qiren, it’s almost like you’ve met the man before.”
“You shouldn’t encourage him,” Lan Qiren said. “Why should you go just because he asked? He’s your equal, not your master.”
“There’s no harm in giving him some face.”
Lan Qiren could think of several ways that it could lead to harm, the inflation of Wen Ruohan’s already bloated ego being not the least of them, but Lao Nie was his equal as well, his equal and his elder. If the man had made up his mind, as it clearly appeared that he had, there was nothing Lan Qiren could say that would change it.
“Good luck, then,” he said, shaking his head, and called the boys to come in for dinner. As usual, the Lan half of the table remained mute while the Nie half did nothing but chatter, each according to their own family custom. It was a test of wills and endurance – Lan Wangji’s eye kept twitching every time Nie Huaisang filled in words for him, possibly due to the extremely high pitch Nie Huaisang chose to represent him – but it was a joy to share the time with them nonetheless.
Before Lao Nie left, Lan Qiren tried, not for the first time, to press the jade pendant that resonated with Jiwei into his hand. “You should take it with you,” he insisted. “Especially if you’re going to the Nightless City to exhibit your saber – there’s a great deal of resentful energy there, and you know that always gets Jiwei’s bloodlust up.”
“Which in turn will sharpen my reflexes, just when I need them most,” Lao Nie said, pressing the jade pendant right back into Lan Qiren’s hand. “Better you have it.”
“Lao Nie…”
“Jiwei likes you now,” Lao Nie said, as if that mattered. “She’s been just as avid to protect you as I’ve been, this past month – if I didn’t need her by my side, I’d almost be tempted to leave her here with you.”
Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that I can’t protect myself? Here? In the Cloud Recesses?”
“Saber spirits are not smart, Qiren. But even she can tell that you’re not well yet.”
Lan Qiren waved a hand dismissively. “Well enough,” he said, and it was even true – the grief was still there, of course, and likely would be every time he thought of Cangse Sanren in the near future, excluding maybe the few times when it was one of his students that resembled her only in terms of how much mischief she would get up to, but it was no longer drowning him. He had hope that, in time, this wound would also scab over and the hurt fade, and that at that time he could once again think of her with nothing but joy.
Lao Nie huffed. “Well enough isn’t well,” he grumbled, but that didn’t stop him from gathering his children and his disciples and heading out back towards Qinghe. “Take care of yourself, Qiren! Be well!”
“And you,” Lan Qiren said. “Keep out of trouble, my friend.”
From what he later heard, the party at the Nightless City went about as anyone with half a brain might have expected: Wen Ruohan swanned around until Lao Nie showed up, there were tense words exchanged, and then Lao Nie produced Jiwei, allowing Wen Ruohan to examine her and even pat her a few times before the Wen sect leader was forced, with great reluctance and through gritted teeth, to admit her superiority to the saber he had received.
The stories ended there, but Lan Qiren had enough imagination to fill in how the rest of the night might have gone, especially with the only sect leaders there being Lao Nie and Wen Ruohan. He sincerely hoped that Lao Nie had remembered all those lectures he’d given him about the foolishness of lying in the same bed as poisonous snakes, no matter how beautiful they might be on the surface.
Perhaps he had, perhaps he hadn’t.
Either way, Lan Qiren heard nothing else until the day he interrupted his own afternoon lecture with a sudden cry of intense pain – the jade pendant had abruptly gone so hot that it had burned, and although his clothing, protected by stitched-in incantations, was unharmed, the heat was so severe that it had nevertheless left a mark on his thigh through all those layers.
Clutching at his leg, Lan Qiren ordered his students to run to fetch him cold water and a doctor, and wondered what in the world had happened.
A letter, he decided. He would write Lao Nie a letter to ask.
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Sand and Stars - Chapter Five
Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?
Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC
Word Count: 2.5k
Warnings: 18+, Mentions of war, military technicalities, slight angst, fluff, implied smut
A/N: Well Hello! Our dear Captain Alex has finally made an appearance! A big thank you to @thelastsock who is patiently beta-reading this, I love you woman with my whole heart.
<Chapter Four
Title: Chapter Five
The sun felt scorching hot on her skin as Olivia loaded her gun near the parked Humvees. A mild throbbing at the base of her skull added to the uncomfortable sensations each time she moved. She hadn’t planned to drink almost half a bottle of whiskey last night, but it was cold, and she needed the warmth.
Also, the drink had sort of been a gift from Sy.
Olivia groaned as the memories from last night flashed through her mind. She had literally invited him for a kiss, throwing herself on her Captain like a wanton whore. She felt embarrassed even thinking about it. Thankfully for her, Sy had a better judgement about entertaining drunk women and had resorted to just giving her a tight hug.
Her stomach felt queasy as a sour taste filled her mouth. She swallowed as the uncomfortable feeling set at the pit of her stomach. Running a hand over her sweat covered forehead, Olivia rested against the vehicle.
She felt worthless. Olivia couldn't shake the feeling of repeating history, despite the extreme effort of will she put her hungover mind to this time. She slung her gun over her shoulder as a distant memory of her time with Alex began flashing before her eyes.
The sound of their hurried footsteps on the marble floor echoed through the empty hall. It was almost noon, the temperature soaring high and drinks becoming difficult to keep down. Alex chuckled as Olivia pulled him towards a bathroom door, not caring whether it was for the ladies or the gents. She had been begging for Alex’s attention ever since they got to the wedding party for a fellow soldier, downing an unusual amount of alcohol before finally gathering up the courage to whisper naughty things in his ear. She had been hung over her Captain for far too long, it was time for her to finally taste him.
Olivia massaged her temple with her fingers. She had been so stupid and naïve to start something with Alex. Her Captain. She regretted it now more than ever, 3 years of hookups later. Alex had been her friend since she re-enlisted again after completing her Aviation course. Though to tell the truth she'd been crushing on him since she first laid eyes on his beautiful face. His unbridled confidence, panty-melting smile and boyish charm had worked its magic on Olivia’s mind. It wasn’t something she thought of pursuing on a long-term basis, but his sweet nature only kept driving her closer to him. She liked that he showered her with affection all the time, something her attention-starved mind craved desperately. Only she had mistaken her lust for love.
“Really? Here? You know our seniors are present out on the lawn.” Alex snickered as Olivia began undoing his belt. His blazing eyes sparkled with what was to come next, the anticipation dancing in his beautiful orbs. Dinners together had turned into overnight stays and eventually Olivia had kissed Alex one night, crossing the line of friendship with no turning back.
“We are on leave, aren’t we?” She had suggestively smiled at him, palming his bulge through his pants. She leaned in to kiss Alex, feeling the softness of his lips brushing against hers. She felt her arousal beginning to wet through the thin fabric of her panties as Alex plunged his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth.
Olivia grinned mischievously as she hopped on the sink counter pulling Alex by his tie to stand between her legs. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pulled her in to steal another kiss. She unzipped his pants as Alex began trailing down her neck, planting soft kisses over her warm skin and cupping her breast through her dress.
“I don’t have a condom,” Alex said against the skin peeking just above her breast.
“I’m on the pill,” she shrugged and pulled his hardening cock out of its constraints. It pulsated in her hand as she pumped him. Alex groaned into her soft skin and nipped at her in retaliation, making her hiss with pleasure. She bit her lip as she watched him take over his cock and enter her aching folds. Alex let out an unrestrained moan as her warmth enveloped his throbbing member.
“Happy birthday, little birdie.” Olivia blinked as Sy appeared in front of her, smiling from under his cap. He was dressed in his combat fatigues, the vest making him look bigger than he already was. “Hangover?”
Olivia shook her head, warmth spreading over her chest as the vivid memories registered in her mind. “Just…uh, regular headache.” She smiled at her Captain. Her eyes lingered on his, mesmerized yet again by the intensely blue orbs looking back at her. She noticed the freckles on his nose and his lip and the changing shade of brown of his beard as it travelled down his neck.
“Maybe later we can have some chai while we watch the sunset?” Sy leaned against the metal body of the Humvee, one hand resting low on his hip.
Olivia tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrow. “Sunset? You do realize I fly a chopper for a living? I’ve seen my fair share of sunsets and sunrises by now.”
“But you haven’t seen a sunset with me.” A smirk formed on Sy’s lips, challenging her for another excuse.
Olivia felt a flutter in the pit of her belly and her mouth opened as she was rendered speechless. She felt herself balancing over the same dangerously thin line again. In a weird sense, this didn’t feel the same for her like it was with Alex. With him she had felt a rush of becoming reckless, but with Sy she wanted to be cautious, mindful. When he had kissed her forehead last night and embraced her, she had never felt more safe in the world like she did in that moment.
“Okay.” She nodded, “Rooftop like last night?” Olivia suggested as her unit members began getting into the Humvees, ready to head out. Sy tipped his cap in confirmation before walking towards his own team and barking orders to mount up.
Out in the desert, Olivia spent the rest of her day interacting with the locals and listening to their problems. She was following Lieutenant Pepps's orders about sympathizing with the public, to ensure they get local support in the future. As she listened to a weeping woman complain about the scarcity of food, her mind drifted back to a memory with Alex.
“What changed, Liv?” Alex pulled at her wrist, turning her around to face him. Olivia yanked at his hold, trying to free herself from his grasp. “Don’t you love me anymore?”
“Alex,” She pleaded, closing her eyes to escape this conversation. She had spent time in Afghanistan and the things she’d seen had changed her. She had seen the fragile nature of life and understood it was useless to be wasting her precious years on someone she only cared about as a friend.
“Tell me, Liv.” His voice was laced with anger, his eyes burning with hatred. “Tell me you don’t love me so that I can remove myself from your life. Because I can’t be your friend, not after all this.” He let go of her hand, slumping his shoulders as his eyes misted with tears and he fell on his knees.
Liv felt the weight of her actions crumbling her down in front of him. She never intended to hurt him, but she couldn’t love him, at least not the way he wanted her to. The possibility of losing her friend forever made her emotions win over her determination to end things with him. “I’m sorry, Alex. I’ll do better. I’m so sorry.”
Olivia sighed as she watched the sun slowly drift towards the horizon casting an orange hue over the sky. She had never gathered the courage to break things with Alex again. He had tried labelling them in a relationship, but she had avoided the topic like the plague. Their arrangement worked as they were deployed to different locations which gave her time away from him, only forcing her to pretend when they were on leave together. She grasped the Saint Christopher medal lying against her chest in her hand and felt the consequences of her actions pricking at her heart.
“Hey,” Sy called out from the doorstep leading out on the roof. He had a canteen in one hand and two cups in another. Liv had walked up to the roof as soon as they had returned to base. The parked white truck had indicated that Sy was back too but since there still had been time until sunset, she had decided to wait out alone on the roof.
“Hey,” she cleared her throat, shaking her head to ward away thoughts about Alex. She smiled weakly at Sy and walked towards him.
Sy frowned with his eyebrows scrunching together. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Did Mahmoud make the chai for us?” She changed the subject, sitting on the pile of sandbags against a wall.
“No, I did.” Sy proudly informed as he took a seat beside her.
Olivia watched as Sy poured the steaming cardamom tea in the cups and handed one to her. She breathed in the aroma before taking a sip of the hot liquid. “Incredible. When did you learn to make chai?”
“Picked up the recipe over the years.” He shrugged his shoulders, but Olivia noticed his chest puff up with pride on getting complimented on his acquired skill. Sy turned to face towards the expanse of the desert beyond the compound, silently sipping his tea.
“Captain Syverson, man of many talents.” She said in a sing-song voice and leaned back against the wall, bringing her knees up to her chest and holding her cup with both her hands.
Liv watched as Sy chuckled, his shoulders shaking with his laughter. The hair of his beard over his upper lip glistened with steam caught in it, almost urging her to wipe her hand over his mouth.
“You are staring, little birdie.” He looked at her sideways, his lips curling at the corners.
Liv rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched with a smile forming on them. “What’s with the nickname?”
“Well you fly the Little Bird, so that makes you little Birdie.”
She laughed as he finished his sentence, looking at him to see if he was joking. “How original, Sy.” She shook her head dismissively, but a fluttery feeling settled in her heart.
“Hey, I didn’t want to call you by the names everyone used.” He defended himself, feigning hurt dramatically by clutching his left pec over his heart.
Liv continued to laugh thinking about the silly reason behind the nickname, but adding it to the list of names she already had. They sat in silence, enjoying their tea as they watched the sun dipping down the horizon with every passing minute. The sky burst into a mixed palette of orange and purple, the clouds drifting away with the wind.
She felt Sy’s eyes on her as she sipped the remnants of tea from her cup. She bit her lip feeling mischievous and commented, “You’re staring, Captain.” She tilted her head to look at him, only to feel her breath hitch as she stared into his cerulean eyes. Sy had the softest look on his face, his smile barely visible from under the bush of his beard.
“What?” She asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“Who’s Captain Coop?”
His question caught Olivia off-guard and she blinked several times to understand that Sy had indeed asked about Alex. “Wh-what?” She tried to not stumble over her words but Sy had left her stunned.
“Yesterday, they were teasing you with his name. I just thought I should ask.” Sy’s gaze never left her face, even when he placed his cup to the side along with hers and the empty canteen.
Liv let out a slow, ragged breath. The mention of Alex’s nickname had her heart racing, her mind going through a carousel of his memories. “He was our captain, before you. My men...they were just… fooling around.” She plucked a jute strand from the sandbag she was sitting on, avoiding Sy’s stare.
She felt him shift on the bag and when she peered, she noticed him coming to stand in front of her. Liv looked up at him as his body loomed over hers. He bent down so as his face was right in front of her.
“So, you’re saying, I don’t have to worry about another man in your life?” His voice was low, and his breath felt warm against her skin.
“N-no. Why?” She gulped as her throat became dry. She watched as Sy licked his lips wet and smiled at her.
“Because I am going to kiss you and I ain’t gonna kiss some other man’s girl.” Sy whispered and waited for her to answer. A slight nod of her head was all he needed as he brought his lips down on hers, placing a soft and gentle kiss over her desirous lips.
Liv closed her eyes as the feeling of his lips sent sparks down her spine. The coarse hairs of his beard grazed against her face as she moved her lips against his. Sy placed his hand over her cheeks as he moved his lips with hers, darting his tongue out seeking permission to enter. She grabbed a hold of his t-shirt and another at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer to her and opened her mouth slightly to grant him access.
The minutes felt like they stretched into hours as Sy’s tongue danced against hers. She could taste the faint taste of cardamom on his tongue and breathe in his musky scent as she willingly deprived herself of oxygen. Panting as their lungs struggled to take in air, Sy let go of her with a last pull on her bottom lip.
When Olivia opened her eyes, the sun had set beyond the horizon and darkness was falling over the desert. Sy let out a slow breath as he grazed his knuckles over her cheek. She felt herself leaning in his touch as her breathing came back to normal.
“Sunsets and kisses, aren’t you a romantic Syverson?” She teased, biting her lower lip between her teeth.
Sy chuckled. “Told you our first kiss would be memorable.” Sy shrugged his shoulders with a cheeky smile, before pulling Liv up for another breathtaking kiss.
Chapter Six>
🌟 Series Masterlist 🌟
#captain syverson#captain syverson fanfic#captain syverson x ofc#sand and stars series#henry cavill#henry cavill fanfic
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Hi hi! Was hoping for some hurt comfort- Maybe the brothers with an MC who doesn't have a family in the human world? Basically they're really upset and terrified to leave because they finally have a family who loves and accepts them, and now it's being taken away from them? They want to stay and are willing to do whatever it takes to stay because they're finally happy? I get if this is too heavy- remember to stay hydrated and eat- and if ya have meds take 'em-
It's 👏 not 👏 heavy 👏 at all👏
In fact that it'a preciselly my own MC's reason for wanting to stay in the Devildom!
Because of that, what I just wrote strays a bit from the usual seeing I have used my own MC for it.
This took me a while and honestly I was first thinking of not doing this request, but I wanted to write something for it so bad.
So I hope you enjoy this!
I wrote it while having DARK's version of What a Wonderful World playing on repeat with the ocasional We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn!
.
We'll Meet Again
And at last the day has come.
It was innevitable, Yukihime knew.
Right from the moment she first stepped in the grounds of hell under the stare of many powerful demons and was told she was now their new exchange student, albeit against her will, she knew, she knew it all would end at some point.
She knew that, under 365 days, she would be back once again to the human world.
Back to a house with too many empty bedrooms, back to playing pretend, back to visiting graves on holidays, to cursing God on daily basis.
I don't want to go back... she thought once again.
Had she ever?
She didn't want to when Mammon grumbled to himself while scorting her to the House of Lamentation on the first day, she didn't want to when she had to summon Asmodeus to flirt with a giant snake, she didn't want to when she felt her ribs crushing and the hot blood rise in her throat as her lungs were punctured in Belphie's hold, and she sure as hell didn't want to now, specially when she has finally started to feel what is like to have a family again.
Yukihime couldn't help but fall into her old habit of cursing God when she found herself walking inside the counsil room, the first place she has stepped on when she first arrived, and the last place she would step on before being sent back home.
Yukihime scoffed at the word in her mind.
At least everyone is present this time. The ravenette hit herself mentally at the thought as her heart grew heavier when she looked around the room, several different hues of expectant eyes meeting back her own lavender colored gaze.
She could barely feel the time pass, or did she feel like it was going too fast? As she watched as Luke, Simeon and Solomon chit chatted with the demon brothers, Yukihime could swear time was both going fast foward and in slow motion. But that was probably just consequence of the constant flush of blood being sent to her brain as the beats of her heart grew both stronger and more strained.
I don't want to go back... It was all she could hear herself plead.
"Take care, Yukihime."
"Till next time!"
"I hope we can get together again sometime up in the human world"
Three voices she could reconize spoke to her. Simeon, Luke and Solomon.
Yukihime's blood ran cold as she realized it was already time for them to go.
"Take care, all of you guys!" She felt herself turn on the autopilot as the smile on her face betrayed the hands she firmly kept clenched together as an attempt to ground herself just enough.
She didn't even have time to process the Purgatory Hall residents desappearing before the demon lord turned his attention to her figure.
"...Well then, that brings us to you, Yukihime"
Ah, how she wanted to get mad at the one responsable for bringing her to hell in the first place.
"To be completely honest," he started, furrowing his brows in a serious face Yukihime believed she would never grown used to "I felt worried whether I'd made the right choice inviting a regular human here." His demanor once again shifted back to his usual easy going atmosphere "but as it turned out, I was worried over nothing"
Yukihime slowly felt herself getting a better grasp on reality as a firm hand belonging to no one else but the man in front of her came to rest on top of her shoulder.
"You've brought change to the Devildom, to RAD, and most importantly to each one of us. I truly appreciate everything you have done, thank you, Yukihime."
His words ressonated in her heart. Along with all the joy and sadness she has come to experience the past year, along with all of her dread of never getting a chance to come back, along with all of her thoughts on how if this was how soldiers being discharged felt like.
"Thank you for inviting me."
And she meaned it.
"Make sure you don't go doin' anythin' crazy in the human world, got it?"
Even through all the messes she had to deal with.
"...Listen, I am not going to erase out saved data for the game we were working on beating together, okay?"
Even through all the trials and errors.
"Take care of yourself okay?"
"Bye bye, my sweet little kitten."
Even through all the dangers.
"Remember to eat when you're hungry okay?"
Even through the memories and the sorrow.
"I wanted to spend more time with you."
Even through the pain.
"I'll never forget this year I've spent with you."
She really meaned it.
"The Devildom will always be here for you, always."
And in a blink of an eye, she was back.
Back to where it all started, back to the same balcony she secluded herself to so long ago when the loneliness was too much to bare, back to the same sunset over the horizon.
No... Yukihime though, shaky hands holding onto the same cold rails she often found comfort on for support.
Their coldness didn't feel as comforting anymore.
She took a closer look at the sun. The small curve of light just barelly peaking through the baby blue sky in soft rays sunshine.
It was a sunrise.
Like a broken dam, Yukihime's airways opened as she let out loud hiccup. Frantic pale hands tried to unsuccessfully muffle the watery sounds that kept on scaping her mouth in desparation.
Losing the last bits of strenght on her legs, the ravenette sank to her knees.
The irony of it all be dammed.
Dammed be the sun that screamed new begginings, dammed be the house she spent a full year away from yet still carried so many memories, dammed be the tears that refused to scape her tearducts even when she wanted to do nothing but weep.
A vibration coming from her coat's pocket startled her.
With rushed yet almost hesitant movements, the ravenette hastly reached her hand to grab onto the device she has come to familiarize herself with.
Too paralized to do anything but, the girl stared at the lock screen of her D.D.D., the thing resonsable for the vibration being a single text message:
"Did you arrive okay?"
As she has come to expect, it didn't take long for another one to pop in.
"Ya alive right?"
And another.
"Make sure to get some rest and eat something"
And another.
"Lord of Shadows to Henry, respond if you're okay, over."
And another.
"Give me a call once you can!"
And another.
"Did you arrive in a one piece?"
And another.
"I already miss you."
Oh, God be dammed.
Lavender eyes lifted their gaze from the phone like device to stare once again into the now halfway from fully rising sun.
And she breathed...
In...
And out...
A challenging smirk slowly took it's place on her lips as she let's out an almost mocking chuckle.
She, at last, has come to a conclusion.
New begginings be dammed.
This was just the end of the prologue.
#obey me#obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obet me mini fic#obey me mc#obey me yukihime#obey me imagines#obey me scenarios
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i’m sure you already know that i’m bond & free’s Biggest, Top #1 Fan (and if not this is me taking and securing the spot) so it’s really no surprise that most of my favorite/most memorable scenes are from it.
for me, whenever i think of your writing the two scenes that stick out the most to me are remus’ pov when he’s essentially pining over sirius with led zeppelin in the background. like idk i wasn’t all that interested with wolfstar when i first began reading bc no fics i’d tried really captured it in a way i could imagine it but after reading that scene i just… i had to give myself a moment because it was SO remus and exactly! how i imagined his inner dialogue would be when thinking about sirius. and also? i can just totally see that whole scene play out like it’s a movie in my head and ugh! so! good! another scene is marlene’s flashback scene where she’s with the mediwitch her mum sent her to. i’m honestly not sure why it affected me the way i did but GOD did i cry when i first read it. like??? idk??? it’s just so heart wrenching and also? so marlene? like i have a line in my notes app about her as a kid being a small person with big feelings and ugh!!! that scene always hits me right where it needs to. oh!!! also that line in regulus’ pov where it’s like “out of the three of them, fear has been the only friend to stick around.” when i tell you my heart kicked out of my chest and fell apart in front of my very eyes i am not. exaggerating. i had to take a breather after that because??? ohmygod???? oh also the quidditch scene in the very beginning. yeah let’s talk about it and how totally insane your brain is to have created the masterpiece that is Dragon One because… my brain could never imagine up a play for a fictional, MAGICAL sport and yet here u are doing it as if it’s nothing. you would think as a jily fan i’d have more scenes about THEM but alas i obsess over tiny, literally minuscule details instead LMAO (but really, honorable mention for ‘i’ve got all the riches, baby…” because yes i read it every month and yes i added my girl to my jily playlist on spotify and yes my spotify wrapped is about to be completely slaughtered by said my girl when the time comes)
anyway i’m rambling like i always do but there are my takes because i could talk for hours about b&f but this is me trying to limit myself to not blow up your inbox with a 20-page essay mwah xxx
be honest were you sent by some enemy of mine to make me weep on a regular basis
#HMMMKAYYYYYY I cannot deal with this#you are the...sweetest....ever#and yes I hereby crown you Bond and Free's 1 fan HA#amazing#;-;#ask#emerqldv#bond and free#LOVEEEEEEE TO YOU ALWAYS WOW#also these sections you pulled!!!!!#anyway I am a ball of emotions thanks very much!
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