#Deadly Lesson: Like Father... Like Son?

[vertigoartgore]

1978's Master of Kung Fu Vol.1 #64 cover by cover artist Paul Gulacy.

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Does Berk think Hiccup is frivolous in Httyd 1? Maybe a little bit aloof?

Stoick tells him to stop joking around in the opening scene of the movie, after the dagons have left. "This isn't a joke, Hiccup!" He tells him. And he tells him that after his rant about how he has things to worry about, like making sure the village doesn't starve in the coming winter, Hiccup answers to with a sassy "the village could do with a little less feeding, don't you think?" Which really only manages to make Stoick even more mad.

After their first lesson in dragon training, Gobber asks the class "where did Hiccup go wrong?" and Astrid's response is "he's never where he should be." I think she means it literally. Why is Hiccup, of all people, in dragon training? Ruffnut and Tuffnut make sense. Snotlout makes sense. Even Fishlegs makes sense. (especially since Fishlegs has already shown effort by memorizing the Book of Dragons, effort Astrid clearly approves of given her shock at the twins and Snotlout disregarding Gobber's order to read the book.)

But Hiccup? Hiccup McSassyPants? Who gets told that his village could starve in the winter and answers with "well maybe they should eat less"? Who steps outside during a raid and actually causes more damage than the dragons pretending he's capturing a Night Fury? What is he doing in dragon training? That class literally ended with Hiccup almost losing his life to a Gronckle.

This is further backed up when after she has to protect both herself and Hiccup from a Deadly Nadder, which happened because Hiccup wasn't paying attention the whole time, getting them both in trouble. (Which is because he's fixating on figuring out a certain Night Fury, but they don't know that. To them, it just looks like he's annoying Gobber with meaningless questions. Why are you asking about the Night Fury? The one dragon who's single instruction is "hide and pray it doesn't find you"?) She explicitly asks him "Is this some kind of a joke to you?"

Followed up by "Our parent's war is about to become ours. Figure out which side you're on."

Once again someone questions Hiccup about how serious he takes things. But it's more than that, she's trying to give him a wake up call! Wake up, Hiccup, our parents are actually fighting a genuine war here and someday it'll be your turn! Stop making everything a joke before you get yourself or someone else killed!

Astrid actually isn't as much against Hiccup at this point as people often believe. There are actually a few points in which she eithers feels sorry for him or tries to help him in her own Astrid-y way. (And if the deleted scene hadn't been deleted, there would've been an almost friendly conversation had between the two before dragon training even starts)

Let's also not forget Hiccup's and Stoick's talk before dragon training even starts. When Stoick shows some actual vulnerability by laying his son's life in his son's and Gobber's hands when he decides to give in and let Hiccup go to dragon training while he's off on a voyage.

Hiccup tells his father "I don't wanna fight dragons!" in a tone that is rather pleading. To which is father chuckles and says to him "come on, yes you do!"

Remember in the opening, Hiccup practically makes the claim that he lives and breathes to kill dragon, it's "who he is." And now he suddenly claims he doesn't want to fight dragons at all? Can't fight them?

Stoick keeps his tone light, telling his son that he will fight dragons, don't you worry about that, Hiccup. With Hiccup doubling down that he's very extra-sure that he can't fight dragons, which makes Stoick double down in return, his levity disappearing.

"Can you not hear me?" Hiccup asks, desperate to be heard.

"This is serious, son!" Says Stoick. Which makes this three times that Hiccup is explicitly told to take something serious. (And you can just see the disbelieve or realization in Hiccup's eyes as he's once again not being listened to.)

(Followed by Stoick telling him to act like everyone else and to stop being Hiccup, which gets him, you guessed it, a sarcastic remark from Hiccup.)

We know that Hiccup changed his mind about participating in dragon training because he found out he couldn't kill Toothless. (or rather, he can't kill the scared and the defenseless, as the Red Death would later show) But Stoick doesn't know that. Berk actually seems to know very little about Hiccup and that's why they think that he's joking around at all times.

I'm willing to bet that the "disasters" he causes "every time he steps outside" aren't much of a help either. (and I wonder how many of these are actually Hiccup's fault or if Hiccup happened to be involved, so the blame is just automatically put on him.)

And this isn't a post to bash Hiccup. I love him to death, I love his sass as much as any other fan. And I am very much of the opinion that Hiccup's sass is a defense mechanism.

His feelings get hurt, so he tries to hurt someone else's back. Like when he probably feels guilty about his father worrying about the village getting through the winter, so he makes that comment about how the village could eat less to offset that guilt. (Which again, only makes Stoick angrier.) And I think the proof is in the rest of the franchise.

Hiccup sasses the most when he's 15-16, a.k.a from Httyd 1 to DoB. But by the time we see him again in RttE (chronologically) he sasses a little less and in a friendlier and more playful context, but he has also matured to deal with his negative feelings differently. RttE is, chronologically, when Stoick actually begins to consider if his son is ready to be chief. He can see how much Hiccup has matured, especially when there's such physicaly distance between them. It's the equivalent of not seeing someone over summer break or watching someone go traveling and see how much they've changed when you reunite with them.

(also, he can knock Snotlout unconscious with a single punch, I bet that helps as well.)

But it is the way Hiccup chooses to defend himself, giving sassy comments (think "Thanks, I was trying!" to Snotlout's comment about the mess he made) to either painful comments about him or actual serious statements like the ones Stoick makes that still gets him in the feels that make him seem so shallow and unserious in the eyes of Berk.

Then there is his apparent history of crying wolf. When he actually does manage to shoot down a Night Fury, his father doesn't believe him and Hiccup explicitly says "this isn't like the last few times, I mean I really actually hit it! It went down!"

When you combine all of this, you get a teenager who doesn't appear to take anybody serious, including the lives of himself and others. Terrible traits to have as a person, let alone when you're the chief's son.

Somehow, a narrative of frivolity and aloofness was build around Hiccup that he just could not escape no matter how much he tried to crawl out of it. At some point, Berk put him in a box, marked it "jokester" and Hiccup's efforts to get out of that box only grew and grew. When his efforts failed, whenever he sassed back, Berk just pushed him even deeper into that box. Not looking further into what Hiccup actually needed or was trying to say.

Do I think Berk was right? Not at all, because this is all surface-level, things Hiccup legitimately says and does to protect himself and nobody realizes this.

Toothless doesn't speak a single word to him during the Forbidden Friendship scene, yet he can get across exactly what he expects from Hiccup (mainly "keep your distance, I don't trust you enough") without being mean about it. He doesn't snap, he doesn't bare his teeth. He just gives him faces that Hiccup understands. Only growling or hissing when Hiccup passes a boundary Toothless very clearly isn't comfortable with. (or, let's say, when his feelings are hurt, like when Hiccup steps on toothless' first drawing.)

And it's because he's not mean about it that he actually makes more progress with Hiccup in half a day than Berk does his entire 15 years.

And that's sad. That's what this post is about. About how sad it is that Berk takes Hiccup at a very shallow level and decides that must be his entire self as a person.

[dameronology]

hii, It's not reallyyy a request, it's just something that's been on my mind for a while after rewatching the second season of Daredevil and I think you would write something incredibly sad and good. what would it be like for reader to have some kind of accident, may be in a life or death situation and having Matt to pray for her (like he did with Elektra)?

first of all - thank you so much!! sad and good is EXACTLY the genre i want my writing to be in. angst is forever my favourite genre >:)

this is in headcanon form but BOY, it's long. also, pls be aware that although my family is catholic (ITALIAN catholics no less), my knowledge of the religion is absolute whack. hopefully i did okay??

matt has several worst fears. some of them stem from his religious beliefs, some from his childhood, some from his night job but ALL of them stem from the things he holds closest to his heart.

matt has an incredibly complicated relationship w his catholocism and after years and years of trauma, like the pain that came from losing his sight, and then his dad, and then watching his home turns to shit?? sometimes he wants to look up at the sky and scream IT'S NOT FUNNY ANYMORE

still, i feel like matt finds comfort in the belief that god makes everything happen for a reason. however, the one thing he will not accept in that belief is losing you.

if you died, that might be enough to lead him to apostasy. like, he might actually turn into the most sacrilegious son of a bitch you've ever met.

because matt could believe he lost his sight for a reason -- his heightened senses led him to becoming daredevil, which he fears might be his purpose, and losing his dad ultimately lead him to the orphanage where he found peace in religion itself.

you, however?? matt has racked his brain for days on end and he still refuses to believe that god, or the universe, or whatever deity may exist whether his own or not, is good enough to give him you.

you are his anchor when the sea is stormy, his sunshine on a bad day, you're the warmth on his face after years in the cold and above all, you are the person that calls him out on his bullshit.

you are literally the best thing in the world to him. everything about you is perfect and he knows lust and pride are some of the deadly sins but so are virtue and kindness and humility and you're all of those things.

so yeah, if anything happened to you, that one bad day away that matt is from becoming frank will quickly pass.

he loses his fucking MIND. you're alive, and that's the most important thing, but you're lucky to be so. a few seconds difference could have seen you in the ground.

he's angry. matt's vision is limited to some light perception and maybe some shadows but right now, it's all red. it's bright and scarlet and it's dripping and no matter how many times he opens the windows and listens to your fluttering heart, he can't get the smell of your blood out of his nose or your screams out his ears.

it's not unusual for you to consume all his senses. now, he wishes that you didn't.

being angry comes easily. he punches guys a little harder at night. grinds his teeth a little more. comes home with fists more bruised that normal and lacerations that have reopened scars that healed years ago.

he nearly lost you. he didn't, but he nearly did, and matt suddenly becomes scared of the fact that life is so. fucking. precious.

that's when he settles a little. why is he wasting time being angry when he could spend it with you? why dwell on what the what if of you dying if you're literally right there beside him?

bruised, of course, and you'll need time to heal both mentally and physically, but you'll get there.

that's when matt once again finds himself seeking comfort in religion. it's familiar to him; the thing at the core of his principles.

the church was his home once, and he carries that with him.

father lantom puts it nicely: lessons aren't always what they seem - sometimes they remind you not to take things for granted.

maybe matt hadn't taken you for granted, but he had just assumed you were so perfect and so close to him that you couldn't possibly be taken away. maybe he had assumed that god just wouldn't dare.

it's a sobering reality for matt. nobody is immortal. not you, not him, not a single person on this planet.

there's a level of acceptance after that.

matt does everything in his physical power to help you heal. he makes you sure you take your medicine, he cleans your wounds, he reminds you to go to check ups and to take it easy.

most of all, he holds you closer at night now. tangles your hands a little more when you're walking beside him. kisses on the forehead become more frequent, as do random texts and calls during the day.

the incident is a reminder of matt's ability to seek comfort in what he knows, but most of all it's a reminder to just be grateful for what he has and to stop worrying about it being taken away.

it's also a SOBERING reminder of how not so different he is from his close, personal friend frank castle. not saying it makes him okay with what frank does but it certainly helps him to understand him a little more.

[brucewaynehater101]

Janet didn't put out the hit on Jack after Tim was born

Her ex girlfriend did

And then the ex girlfriend took the contract herself

Ex girlfriend is not pleased when she isn't the only one who rushes to...comfort the "grieving" widow, three of them come together in an alliance to chase off the others, there is a schedule they mostly adhere to depending on their own desires and responsibilities

And as Tim grows, all of his mother's various suitors are trying to both get his good opinion and train him to be a deadly warrior to beat away/freak out any further competition and report on what happened while they were away

Shiva steals Cass away from David Cain specifically for her courtship with Janet, presenting herself as fellow single mother with Tim's previously undiscovered soul sibling Cass, bonus Cass acts as a bodyguard/trainer/companion for Tim while she guards Janet on her expeditions

Selina uses the power of kittens and stealth lessons to bond with Tim and to help him with his stalking/information gathering hobby, she introduces Tim to the delicate art of blackmail and thievery.

Talia draws on her father's records to find previously undiscovered or overlooked tombs and ruins to entice Janet with archaeological when digs and has ninja train/babysit Tim and Cass while she takes Janet out

And Bruce gets the very wrong impression as to why these women are going in and out of Gotham with such relative frequency

Hell yeah!

That ex-gf is lucky as hell that Janet only gets slightly mad about Jack dying (because of course Janet finds out). Though, this does come with the pointed words that this is one of the reasons they aren't currently dating.

Tim is sad his father died, but he's also confused about waking up the next morning to at least twenty of his mother's flings in Drake Manor. The process of watching seventeen of them being chased off one by one is entertaining.

Once Janet decides to start dating again, they for sure realize that Tim is the only way for them to go steady with Janet (because Janet Drake loves her son and will burn the world down for him). They come to adore Tim for the way his eyes get the same calculative glint as Janet, his innate ability to manipulate a room, and the smirk without smirking he does. He is, without a doubt, Janet's son.

Many of them, utter fools, initially underestimate Tim. He may be of Janet's blood, but he's also five (or six or eight or whatever young age they meet him at). This is how Tim manages to weasel whatever he desires (usually dangerous lessons like knife throwing) from his mom's suitor.

Janet is so proud of him.

Janet has a way with dangerous ladies, but this isn't only for villains. Vigilantes, anti-heroes, and even some heroes end up in her orbit. She doesn't ask them for exclusivity, and they don't ask that from her (so a lot of them have other relationships, including with each other).

Idk if Wonder Woman would keep her on again off again relationship with Janet (and periodic visits to Gotham) a secret, so I'm not sure if I ship it for this AU :/

Zatana, however, (when she is Bruce's age), could teach Tim some magic.

So, yeah. Bruce gets concerned when a bunch of extremely skilled women from all "sides" of Justice keep visiting Gotham.

[I'm also hella vibing with what each of the women in your descriptions did for bribes/courting gifts]

[calamityjoan]

A DAUGHTER'S CURSE ✮ DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

SUMMARY | "Dutch's bloody hands had shaped you into his favorite revolver, even more deadly than his Schofield, for there was nothing in the world as bloodthirsty as a daughter who wanted to prove she was worth ten sons."

PAIRING | Dutch van der Linde x Adoptive Daughter!Reader

TAGS | Canon-typical violence, mention of sexual assault, daddy issues (a lot of it) and angst.

WORDCOUNT | 3.5k

NOTE | This verse screams Damned!Dutch's daughter. Enjoy the product of that. It is chaotic and messy and not proofread but⏤oh well⏤isn't that fitting for RDR2? The final part contains direct quotes from the game and, thus, may be a spoiler. But come on, it's been seven years.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Like the marvelous country that was the West, the loyalty of men knew no bound. It went beyond law and reason, and sometimes drove the purest hearts to the worst horrors.

Some had dedicated poems to its beauty, its dangers too, but no soul had ever created pentameters faithful enough to the loyalty of daughters for their fathers.

The daughter's loyalty was the father's weapon, a silent but destructive ammunition on which men could always count. The father sculpted his daughter and molded her to his will.

Dutch's bloody hands had shaped you into his favorite revolver, even more deadly than his Schofield, for there was nothing in the world as bloodthirsty as a daughter who wanted to prove she was worth ten sons.

It all began when he found you on Chicago's government pier, at the edge of Civilization and all its sins.

Above his head, night and its thick, speckled tapestry wove, as usual, the perfect place to conceal a plethora of crimes.

But certainly not the weeping—it drowned out the creaking of the merchant ship Dutch and Hosea had managed to plunder.

The outlaw turned and squinted, forgetting the bear fur to investigate the sound anomaly. It took him a few seconds to make out the small figure lurking in the shadows.

Wrapped up in an overcoat too big for you, you—a mere child at that time—shivered behind a barrel that reeked of rotting meat.

“What are you doing?” Hosea asked, his hand elbow-deep in a jewelry box. “Hurry up. Arthur and John are probably already on Dearborn Street.”

Dutch ignored his friend's protests and took a step towards you. Your face, innocent as can be and distorted by the ugliness of fear, blanched at his sight.

Your frightened eyes guided me to you, your father always said. Their tears aligned the stars, and I only followed my destiny.

You knew the truth—what had really caught his attention that evening had been the bloody knife you had brandished at him with trembling hands.

You would never forget the sparkle that shone in his eyes at the sight, nor the hand he offered you.

When your tiny fingers brushed Dutch's blistered ones—the fingers of a sinner—and the man promised you bed and a hot meal, the first poisoned drops of loyalty flowed and mingled with the night so easily that you didn't see their crimson color.

The first lesson Dutch taught you was how to shoot a gun. He gave you his, then too heavy for your small hand.

The dissonance between the tender skin of innocence and the ominous iron barrel disturbed Hosea (“Isn't it a bit too early for that? She's only seven. Show her how to pick pocket instead,”) but not Dutch, who merely smiled and corrected your grip on the weapon.

“For now, hold it with both hands. One on the stock, the other under the barrel. Your fingers should always be on or against the guard. Never on the trigger, unless you want to shoot yourself in the foot. Only pull the trigger when you're ready to shoot.”

“How will I know I'm ready?” you asked in a timid voice.

A second passed. Dutch shrugged.

“You'll know when the time comes. Now, feet apart.”

His boot pushed against your frail ankle. 

“Bend your knees. Good. Now hold still.”

The man walked away. You almost reached out a hand but, remembering his words, quickly put it back under the barrel.

From a leather satchel, Dutch drew four glass bottles and placed them in a row. The remnants of a strong spirit, no doubt. The pungent aromas scented the camp often enough for you to recognize them.

The outlaw returned soon enough, and your shoulders relaxed. You had not been aware of their contraction until the scent of powder and musk embraced you again.

“You know how it works, don't you?”

You nodded shyly. A strand of hair escaped your braid and fell before your eyes. Dutch tutted. With a distracted hand, he tucked it behind your ear before pressing his palm against your shoulder blades.

“Now, both hands on the stock.”

You complied, hands trembling. Dutch pointed to the bottles with his chin as his hand at your back became more insistent.

“Try aiming for a–”

A deafening crack shook the barrel before Dutch had finished his sentence. The sound reverberated against the surrounding trees and the accompanying jolt struck your wrist with such force you were forced to let go of the gun.

Dutch's hand pressed against your shoulder blades.

“It's all right, it's all right. I've got you.”

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Dutch! I didn't mean to– ’m sorry!”

The words stumbled from your lips, drowned out by panic and the ghostly buzzing that persisted against your eardrums.

“It's very... noisy.”

“You'll get used to it,” the outlaw's voice snapped. “Do it again. But this time, breathe out before you fire. Your lungs must be empty, understand? It'll help with the recoil.”

Childlike fingers searched for the trigger.

“Empty lungs,” Dutch repeated.

The bottle, still intact, glinted in the sunlight. One of the rays shimmered against the barrel before disappearing as you aimed at the glass; a gloomy eclipse that made you shiver.

You closed your eyes for a second, exhaled until you felt your ribcage fold in on itself, and hesitated only a second before firing.

The bullet whistled.

And disappeared in the bushes. 

You sighed.

“It's all right, Kid,” he reassured you. “We've got all the time in the world.”

You borrowed only an hour of the world’s time before a bottle finally exploded. Enchanted by the shattering glass, you turned back to Dutch, grinning from ear to ear.

And that singular sparkle reappeared in the man's brown eyes.

Years later, you would recognize this glint as that of an outlaw who had got his hands on a gold mine. For the time being, you were a mere seven-year-old and relished in the attention you were receiving for the first time in your life.

With your veins as the thread, loyalty wove its first stitches in your chest and condemned you to the worst curse of all: a daughter trying to make her dather proud.

At the age of twelve, you thus asked Hosea to teach you how to hunt. He took you to a forest on the edge of Chicago, not far from the camp, and placed a rifle in your blistered palms. Trapped between the silence of the forest and birdsongs, you shot a doe for the first time and regretted that Dutch could not be with you to see it.

At the age of fourteen, Arthur realized you weren’t going anywhere. Like him several years earlier, you had taken root and become a member of the pack—one of his to protect. When you were nearly killed during a stagecoach robbery, he handed you his old shotgun, muttering words about being more careful next time and left you standing there, with a new weapon in your arms.

At the age of fifteen, John tossed a bag full of throwing knives at your feet and dared you to hit the target drawn on the oak tree. Never one to pass on a challenge, you drew one out and weighed it on your finger. The steel, lighter than that of a revolver, nicked the pad of your index. John laughed. You raised an eyebrow and threw the dagger, stabbing it in the trunk as John looked on in disbelief. Behind you both, Dutch burst out laughing and you felt alive again.

Other members came and went over the next few years. Mary Linton didn't stay, but Susan and Tilly did, as Bill, Javier and Davey. You were introduced to other weapons—snipers, dynamite, bows, even axes—but you would always return to your revolver and the first memory of Dutch.

Loyalty wrapped itself around your neck for good when, at seventeen, you killed for Dutch for the first time.

Nothing remained of the sensation of that night on the pier, when the blade had sunk into the fat belly of the drunkard who had tried to rape you.

Today, dread was replaced by jubilation, as you reloaded the barrel of your revolver and blew the head off yet another O'Driscoll. Crouched behind a rock, adrenalin pounded your temples and sharpened your senses.

“Come out! Van Der Linde!” a voice taunted behind her. “Colm wants to say hello!”

A shadow in a green scarf swooped down on Dutch. You choked out a scream as the O’Driscoll threw the first punch.

“No, Father!”

Dutch fell in the mud with a grunt. The O'Driscoll turned back to her, a toothy grin on his lips. His fist, still clenched, was dripping blood. Your father's blood, you realized.

The butt of your revolver lacerated your palm as you tightened your grip around it.

“I didn't know good ol’ Dutch had a daughter! Tell me, sweetheart, do you want to see me blow your daddy's brains out?”

The Irishman grabbed Dutch's hair. You saw red and jumped.  

Three blows echoed through the clearing. Dutch fell back to the ground. The O'Driscoll raised a hand to his chest and blanched.

Empty lungs.

He collapsed, his scarf green no more.

You dropped your revolver and rushed to Dutch. The man was still lying on the ground, his face covered in mud and blood, but his bewildered eyes moved frantically as he caught sight of you.

“Are you all right?” you asked, breathless.

The look of disbelief didn't go away. Louisa thought at first of head trauma—his head, after all, had slammed against the floor—but when he got to his feet without your help, your own words came back to taunt you.

Your whole body froze before you straightened up and, avoiding his eyes, turned around to rush to your horse.

You straddled him and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

“You called me ‘Father’,” he told her that evening, when you finally summoned the courage to go see him.

In silence, you sat at his bedside before grabbing a clean rag and soaking it with whisky. With a trembling hand, you wiped the clotted blood from the corners of her lips, searching their familiar shapes for the right words. Dutch always knew what to say.

“I did,” you admitted in a quiet voice.

He grabbed your wrist.

You tensed.

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

Dutch searched your face for something, but didn't seem to find it. He abruptly let go and pulled a cigar from his jacket’s patch pocket before lighting it. You watched the man take a short puff; for a moment, the arabesques of smoke diverted your mind from the anguish that swarmed within.

But Dutch's sigh plunged you right back into it. He spread an arm out.

You flinched but a hand between your shoulder blades prevented you from falling.

“Come here, Kid.”

You promptly burst into tears and fell into his arms.

Several minutes passed without either of you speaking. Dutch broke the silence first.

“Can I count on you?”

“I'll follow you all the way to Hell,” you immediately replied, unaware that the Styx and Phlegethon started from your father's wounds.

 “Dutch is just trying to get us out of here,” you sharply whispered to Arthur as you scoured tonight’s dinner’s dishes.

The incessant splashing of icy water was doing a poor job at masking your anger. The feeling of betrayal had cut too deep at your chest for that. It made your fingers shake as you rubbed a dirty coffee cup a little harder. 

Of all the members of the gang, you had never thought Arthur would doubt Dutch.

You kept your eyes fixed on your hands, reddened not by blood but by effort—a rare sight indeed. Lately, not a day went by without you being sent to kill someone.

You grabbed another plate to shake off the weight of guilt. The sponge squeaked against the iron and drowned your thoughts for a second.

“He ain’t been the same since Micah came,” Arthur began, “and you know it as well as me. Always talking about his big plan, dangling mountains of gold in front of us, but we both know it won’t happen.”

You slammed the bowl against the table, startling Pearson who was butchering a doe, and turned back to Arthur, your finger pointed at him.

“You don't know what you're talking about!”

“And you're blinded by your love for him! Look around, Y/N. We're the last. Civilization is on our doorstep. Dutch can't fight it. We've got to get out. John, Sadie and Abigail agree. Come along.”

A bitter laugh forced its way out of your chest.

“Please, love.”

You lowered your head and, with a lump in the throat, said softly: “Go away, Arthur.”

The gunslinger sighed and did just that. The strange sight made your lips part, ready to take back what you had just said, but no word came out. You clenched your fist.   

Dutch, you thought. Dutch will know what to do.

You abandoned the dishes and headed for your father's tent. Voices escaped from the canvas, and it only took you a second to recognize Micah's. You gritted your teeth. You didn't trust this snake any more than Arthur did, but one rotten apple did not spoil the whole barrel.

Both men fell silent when you came into view.

“Can I talk to you?” you asked Dutch.

“Not now, Kid. Micah got a lead that could be very good for us.”

Although his voice was soft, you couldn't help the pain that lacerated your chest. For the first time, Dutch had dismissed you. Beside him, Micah watched on with a victorious eye.

For a second, your fingers brushed against revolver at your belt, but you quickly recovered and, flashing your most convincing smile, nodded.

As soon as you turned, the facade dropped. You pushed back the tent flap with a trembling hand and, trying to ignore the crack that had just appeared, returned to your bedroll, where nightmares brought you back to the Chicago pier.

This time, no man reached out a hand.

Loyalty knew almost no bound—for only jealousy was a worthy rival and could, piece by piece, unravel the sacred stitches it sewed in hearts.

Micah Bell, more snake than man, had hissed his lies and perfidy into Dutch's sick ear—a modern reincarnation of the Garden of Eden where Eve would not bite the apple. No. This time, the sinner had only one name, ironic as it was.

Father.

The Daughter was and would remain a figure cursed by her sex—apple in the eyes of the Father, turned rotten with the appearance of a Son.

And what a son, you thought as Micah pointed his gun at an emaciated Arthur and a bruised John. A son who had ratted them out to the Pinkertons. A sellout. A traitor.

This thought awakened a rage you had hitherto tried to bury deep within yourself. It bubbled up in your veins and rattled your chest.

Slowly, your fingers slipped to your belt.

“All of you...” Arthur began, his revolver pointed at the crowd. “You pick your side, because this is over. All them years, Dutch... for this snake?”

“Oh, be quiet, cowpoke. Be quiet!”

You could not look away from your father. He hadn't answered. Why hadn’t he answered?

An enraged Susan Grimshaw sided with Arthur and snapped you out of your reverie. The rifle she was holding clashed with the strict image you had built up over the years.

“No. You be quiet, Mr. Bell… and put down your gun.”

“There’s Pinkertons coming, fast.”

Javier's announcement sent the camp into a deadly frenzy. Seizing his chance, Micah shot Mrs. Grimshaw, who collapsed to the ground in a bloodcurdling scream.

 “No!”

You fell to your knees and placed your hands on the gaping wound perforating her stomach.

“No, no, no, no, no... Not again, not again,” you whispered frantically.

You pressed harder on Mrs. Grimshaw's wound as she continued to writhe in pain. 

“Come on. Don’t die on me. Please,” you begged.

Kieran, Sean, Lenny, Hosea... How many friends had you lost? How many more names would join the cursed list? Would you be next?

Why hadn't Dutch answered Arthur's question?

Despite your pleas and efforts, Mrs. Grimshaw soon stopped moving.

When you felt the body exhale against your palm, you froze. As if they had a mind on their own, your hands slid to the muddy ground, now soaked with innocent blood.

You watched on with dull eyes.

“Who amongst you is with me…” Dutch's voice echoed behind her. “And who is betraying me?”

You raised your head and stared into Mrs. Grimshaw's dead eyes. Your hand shook. A few drops of blood dripped from it. You wiped them off on your jeans and clenched your fist before standing up on wobbly legs.

Meanwhile, the camp had divided itself: John and Arthur on one side, Dutch and the rest on the other.

And you, in the middle of this abyss, stood motionless, your chest empty.

It was only when Arthur collapsed in a coughing fit that you came back to life. You rushed to your brother and placed a comforting hand between his shoulder blades.

“Are you alright?”

Arthur's grip on his revolver wavered. The sight, so far removed from the gunslinger you had known all your life, tore at your heart. All had changed. Everyone you’d ever cared about was either a ghost of themselves or a decomposed corpse.

“He's lying... Cowpoke is lying,” Micah taunted, his two revolvers pointed at them.

That was the last straw. You let out an inhuman scream and drew your weapon.

“You!Shut the fuck up! I've had enough of your words!”

A toothy grin appeared on the blond's face.

“Oh... It seems the little one got claws after all.”

“Kid,” Dutch began but you kept your eyes and revolver on the traitor.

It's all his fault.

“Kid, put the gun down and come here,” Dutch ordered in a distracted voice.

No, in a confident voice.

After all, why should a model daughter disobey her father?

For the first time, you hesitated and glanced over your shoulder.

Arthur was watching you, his eyes tired but pleading. You recalled your conversation from weeks earlier.

He's not the same. We both know that.

You turned back to Dutch and searched his eyes for the familiar spark of the early days, but nothing but greed and arrogance swam in those irises.

You bowed your head and admitted defeat.

The Father's image withered before her very eyes. Loyalty evaporated in a second. The blood of the pact coagulated. The heart dried up. Already, the mind was feeling the poison’s effects and destroying the golden images to leave only the cold hard truth.

Suddenly, the choice seemed obvious.

You took a step towards Arthur and John.

“No,”

“What do you mean “no”?” Dutch laughed. “Come here, Kid, or–”

Your blood ran cold. The stitches of loyalty loosened and those of hatred replaced them.

“Or what? You'll shoot me? 

“Cut the crap and get over here, Kid!”

“I ain’t your kid!” you exploded.

Your voice echoed through the clearing. Dutch froze.

You took a deep breath and, hand trembling, pointed your revolver at him.

The sensation of déjà-vu strangled you. All you had to do was close your eyes to be transported to the Chicago pier. You could almost hear the creaking of the merchant ship and Hosea's muttering.

But Hosea is dead.

You tightened your grip on the butt of the revolver. The dozens of blisters covering your hands burst into flames. Dutch was the sole reason for their presence. If you burst them, would the blood of the victims you had killed for him flow?

“You're not my father,” you continued despite your quavering voice. “My father died when he chose to side with this traitor.”

Her index finger left the grip.

“Kid, put the gun down.”

If he'd wanted you to be an obedient daughter, why had he taught you to shoot at seven?

You went over the guard.

Empty lungs.

You exhaled.

A daughter's loyalty to her father knew no bound, except for the one Betrayal erected.

Then, filial rage spared nothing.

Not even the Father.

[unholly-reader]

You love me? // Liam Mairi x f!OC

So I read the „Fourth Wing”. Yup. I’m officially lost, but I can’t decide who to fall for - Xaden or Liam. Until I figure this out, here is a little piece for all you Liam lovers (I still can’t forgive how anyone could kill such a wonderful character, straight up cruel!)

A little reminder - English is not my first language so please, have mercy.

Enjoy <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a reason why Dalya Aetos was one of the most anticipated cadets in the Rider’s Quadrant of Basgiath War College. Despite her brother already being a squad leader in the Flame Section, it was Dalya who everybody considered the jewel of the Aetos family. Even colonel Aetos himself prised himself on his second born. He was proud of his son, but Dain never truly understood the meaning of the lessons his father tried to teach. Instead, Dalya listened carefully, minding every word he has ever said to her. Maybe that’s how she got into general Sorrengail’s favour so quickly. Violet’s mother always appreciated Aetos’s help and advice, but upon meeting Dalya at the age of eleven, she saw true potential in the colonel’s daughter.

No wonder that when it came to Conscription Day, Dalya went straight for the deadly path through the bridge onto the Parapet and into the Rider’s Quadrant. Before making her choice her father tried to convince her to choose healers, as she would be safer there than risking her life on dragonback if she was lucky enough to live through training, the Gauntlet and finally the Threshing. To his disappointment, Dalya chose riders and against her father wishes became a formidable cadet under Xaden Riorson’s command. That’s where she met general Sorrengail’s daughter, Violet and a charming young man by the name Liam Mairi. Befriending Violet was the first good choice she made while studying in the rider’s quadrant. Getting close and creating a bond with Liam was even better.

Eventually, Dalya was chosen by a navy-blue daggertail dragon by the name Yvraeth. If it wasn’t for the fact that Violet got chosen by not one, but two dragons, Dalya would have been the main fenomenon as it was known far and wide that blue dragons do not attach to humans, Xaden and Sgaeyl being the only known exception. And so the training has begun. Flying was the first thing the newly chosen riders need to master, seeing as they would spend the majority of their time in the College on dragonback. When everybody chose to follow the guidelines of the bare minimum of training, Dalya wanted more. She put aside all the drama her brother provided, seeing as he could not decide what he wanted to do with his feelings for Violet and his hate for Xaden, and instead chose to spend as much time in the air as her body allowed her. And she wasn’t alone.

- It would be nice if you could keep up, Liam. Yvraeth won’t wait forever - shouted Dalya, turning back to look at her friend atop the red dragon’s back.

- Not my fault you were chosen by the fastest dragon in the Continent - screamed Liam, a little annoyed but still happy he got to spend time with his favourite person. Dalya laughed joyfully, holding onto Yvraeth’s back.

Why don’t we show them what real speed means?

I knew I chose you for a reason, Starling.

Yvraeth sped up, leaving Liam and Deigh even further behind. Both her and her dragon laughed as they saw how the red daggertail struggled to follow them. Even though she really liked Liam, Dalya enjoyed showing off Yvraeth’s speed and annoying her friends striking through the sky.

Yes, Dalya really liked Liam. Although a more appropriate way to express how she felt about him would be to say that she was falling for him. How could she not? He was not only kind and a true gentleman, not to mention his broad shoulders and gorgeous face, he was also the most genuine and caring person she has ever met. Dalya never really fell for anyone ever since that one time she chose to give somebody her heart only to have it broken into pieces. Typical teenage drama. A girl falls for a boy but he chooses to betray her and choose another. That’s what happened with Dalya and a boy from her hometown, Weston. From that moment she promised herself she would guard her heart and keep it shut until she met someone who could take care of it and take care of her. Day after day Liam was proving he could be that someone but still, it was a risk Dalya wasn’t sure she was willing to take.

But one day, something changed.

It was a training day like any other. All the riders were getting paired up and sparring on the mats. Nothing unusual. Until professor Emetterio shouted her name with someone she would rather not fight on her own.

- Dalya and Garrick, let’s go!

Following professor’s command Dalya stepped onto the mat as Garrick followed her steps. He was a third year and a section leader. That was a warning in itself. Even though they were on rather good terms, she knew he was a formidable opponent and friends or not, he would give his best.

- Promise it won’t hurt, Aetos. At least not too bad - laughed Garrick, ridding himself of his shirt.

- Just don’t pull your punches - Dalya replied playfully, getting into her stance.

- Ready? Fight!

The second professor Emetterio shouted out, Garrick went full offense. He threw himself forward, aiming his fist towards Dalya’s right side. Being much quicker than the well built third year rider she used her speed and agility to her advantage. Swiftly she avoided his attacks but she couldn’t dance around him forever. Her feet were quick, her arms even moreso as she made her move tripping Garrick over his own legs. The second he fell on the mat, he grabbed her leg, brining her down with him and under his body. Being at the clear disatvantage, Dalya rolled herself from his grasp, kicking his left side and getting back on her feet.

- Nice touch. Somebody’s been practicing - said Garrick, wiping his hands on his pants and smiling devilishly at Dalya. She simply smiled back, ready for yet another attack.

They began circling each other when she chose to launch herself at his shoulders, jumping over his head so that he would collapse. That was the exact moment when Liam chose to approach their mat and got to witness her attack. Only it was not as effective as Dalya had planned. Garrick quickly caught her hips and swung her body slamming her on the mat. Soon after he went for a punch into her ribs, but she rolled away just in time. Getting on her feet crouching she swung her left leg, tripping him once again and jumping on top of him once again, this time keeping on foot on his bicep, while the other was bent next to his face. If they weren’t fighting, the position they found themselves in would be rather suggestive and Liam was not happy about it. While he wondered whether there was anything going on between Dalya and the handsome section leader, the fight continued. Dalya thrived in her small victory, but her success was short-lived. Garrick threw her over his shoulder, slamming her side into the mat with a quiet whimper from her. She felt on of her ribs crack but shoes to ignore the pain. Liam winced seeing her pain but remained still, waiting for the fight to be over. Garrick used the moment of weakness and got on top of Dalya’s body, pushing his forearm into her neck while straddling her hips.

- Surrender?

Dalya tried to find her voice but the probably broken rib and Garrick’s elbow on her throat made it difficult to speak. She almost croaked out a word when someone spoke out.

- That’s enough!

Turning her head slightly she saw Liam walking onto the mat and almost throwing Garrick off of her in a somewhat violent manner. The section leader jumped away, looking surprised at the blonde rider, but Liam paid no attention to him. Gently he kneeled next to Dalya, looked her in the eyes and hooked his arms beneath her knees and her back.

- This is gonna hurt, love.

Before she could answer, Liam stood up carrying her in his arms like she weighed nothing and walked out of the training hall without a word. Everyone went silent with their eyes wide open except for Garrick and the wing leader who stood in the shadows, watching from distance. His lips formed into a sort of smile as he watched his friend walk out the door.

Finally, little brother. Took you long enough.

Look who’s talking, hummed Sgaeyl in his head, turning his head to Violet, who was about to enter the mat with Rhiannon as her sparring partner. Xaden just shook his head and focused on the rest of the sparring riders.

Shut up, Sgaeyl.

Meanwhile Liam carried Dalya out of the training hall and followed the path that led to the infirmary. Dalya, seeing the direction they were heading in, shuffled in his arms in protest.

- Not the infirmary, Liam. Please, I’m fine. It’s nothing, really.

The blonde looked at her suspiciously but seeing the pleading in her golden eyes he huffed in defeat and changed his course, walking up to his room instead.

- Fine, but you’re gonna let me take a look at you. I can bet a lot of money that you have a nasty bruise on your ribs and I think I heard one crack.

Dalya remained silent, knowing he was almost one hundred percent right but she chose not to admit it out loud. Instead, she enjoyed the closeness of his body and the smell that she had awakes found intoxicating whenever he was near. She nuzzled her face into his chest and remained quiet until they reached his bedroom. With the doors closed behind them, Liam laid Dalya on his bed so that she could sit propped on the headboard. Kneeling next to his bed he looked up at the girl and waited.

- Shirt up - he demanded, looking at her intensely.

Her eyes widened as she stared at him in shock, raising her eyebrow.

- And how about a „please”, nurse Mairi? - asked Dalya teasingly, smirking at the boy before her.

She half expected him to laugh if only a little but his face remained serious as he stared at her with and unreadable emotion painted in his eyes.

- I’m not kidding, Lya. Shirt up or do I have to do it myself?

- Geez, don’t be so serious, Liam. I’ll do it, calm down.

- I can’t exactly be calm when I just saw you get slammed on the floor like a puppet. Sorry Dalya but I don’t take pleasure in seeing you get hurt. What if you had gotten it worse? Did you even think about it?

Dalya was at a loss for words. She was looking at Liam as if she saw him for the first time. He was down right flushed and his eyes gleamed with what looked almost like fear. Fear for her life. With a small wince Dalya sat up, bringing her hand under his chin and forcing him to look at her.

- Liam, this is not the first time I’ve been sparring on the mat. This has never been a problem before. Why does matter to you now?

- It doesn’t matter - Liam shrugged her hand off his chin, turning his head away, but she wasn’t gonna give up without an answer. With a little more strength she grabbed his face in her palms and turned his head back, looking into his blue eyes with determination.

- What has gotten into you? I’m not a porcelain doll. I know you may confuse me with Violet but I don’t understand why make a scene now. You don’t patronize her like that but with me it’s suddenly a big deal I got a little bruised. What is that about?

- Well, I’m not in love with Violet so maybe that!

Yes! You finally said it, good job Liam! shouted Deigh in his rider’s head, his voice laced with so much joy he could light up the night.

Deigh, I’m kinda having a critical moment here. A little privacy, please.

You got it.

That was just about enough to shut Dalya up for a few good moments. The girl stared at Liam with her eyes wide open almost as if she saw a ghost. Her hands were still on his cheeks, hold his face gently as they stared at one another in silence. Liam’s eyes were filled with emotions and fury and frustration all at once for Dalya to see. He knew he was risking their friendship but that was the problem. Friendship wasn’t enough for him. As gently as he could he brought his hands to grab Dalya’s wrists and he kissed each of them lightly, almost like a feather touch, still looking into her golden orbs. She couldn’t utter a word staying completely still, almost as if she was afraid this was a too good to be true dream.

- I have always felt like you’re somebody I could never part with. It was almost like you were drawing me in with your dazzling smile and your sparkly eyes. Gods, you’re eyes, Lya. I see them every night I fall asleep. I dream of you even when I don’t remember it. I have accepted your friendship because having you in my life as my friend was better than not having you at all but I can’t pretend anymore. If you don’t feel the same, I will understand but I…

Whatever heartfelt declaration Liam meant to express was muffled by Dalya’s lips smashing into his own. Her smell on him was like poison and antidote at the same time. Without thinking twice, Liam got up from his knees, grabbing Dalya by her waist and sitting her in his lap as he plopped on the bed so that she was straddling him. The kiss was almost like electricity. Lust was thriving in their veins as they explored each other’s body. Liam’s hands on Dalya’ back and on her neck. Dalya’s fingers raking his blonde hair and scratching his shoulders. If two stars fell into each other and combined, they would be Liam and Dalya. Almost too close but never close enough. If their lungs didn’t protest in need of air they would never part but eventually their bodies won that battle. They broke the kiss, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. They still had their hands on each other, afraid to let the other go as if they would run away. Dalya was the first one to pull away so that she could look at the blonde beneath her properly. Her eyes shone with their own light like they borrowed some from the sun itself. For Liam, she was the most exquisite creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. Gently she caressed his cheek, combing her fingers through his hair.

- Next time, just kiss me. And don’t make a fuss when I get hurt fighting. We’re riders, Liam. We are built to fight.

- Can’t promise you that, sweetheart. You’re my everything - said Liam with such sincerity in his voice Dalya swore she could melt right there and then. Playfully she rolled her eyes and quickly pecked his lips.

- You’re lucky I love you, otherwise you’d be in trouble.

Liam’s blue eyes lit up like dragon fire.

- You love me?

Dalya smiled at him warmly, putting her forehead on his inhaling his intoxicating smell.

- I love you.

[devilsmarmalade]

Regardless of whether or not Eli considers himself affiliated in his adult non-life with any specific denomination of Christianity, Eli Ever--once Eli Cardale--is Southern Baptist. Raised somewhere deep in the close-knit community of the south, Pastor Cardale's place of worship was likely nestled within the rolling mountains of the Appalachians, where the only prying eyes one has to worry for are those of your neighbor, though no less judgment was cast by these friendly faces. It was here that Eli Ever--once Eli Cardale--was taught that all men may see the light of Heaven through faith and salvation. Tied to the cross in a perversion of the savior who died for his sins, little devil-eyed Eli learned what the agonizing, blood-filled price for this salvation was: repentance. As Pastor Cardale's belt-turned-whip cracked through the quiet air of the empty house of worship, Eli became intimately acquainted with salvation through repentance; he was an evil child after all, he deserved the punishment. Why else would his father teach him this lesson, if he were not truly a conduit for the Prince of Darkness?

The Southern Baptist Convention is characterized by a distinct emphasis on baptism, where one cannot enter the land of infinite prosperity if their soul has not been washed clean. The ritual of baptism usually occurs in a child's early life, preteens or teens, and is a time of great celebration. Pastor Cardale, having seen the Devil in his son's hazel eyes, was consumed by the need to cleanse his son in the divine heat of fire and brimstone, through a concerted effort to impart upon Eli the importance of repentance; he deserved the punishment. It was for this reason, at the event of Pastor Cardale's untimely death, that Eli Cardale--soon to be Eli Ever--had not yet been baptized.

Although baptism usually occurs during childhood, baptism and salvation may be freely given at any age to cleanse the soul of sinful impurities. Eli Cardale--now Eli Ever--denied himself the unearned gift of this however, as in his non-life Eli's soul would be forever tainted by the depths of his ultimate hubris: his defiance of God's will through unholy resurrection. It is for this reason, Eli knows, that despite his attempts at repentance--the deep cuts into soft flesh that healed over instantaneously, the wrongness he wiped from the face of the Earth in a deadly crusade--he will never in the hereafter of his non-life be bathed in the golden light of Heaven, nor will he ever feel the heat of hellfire licking across his skin as punishment for his indiscretions.

Eli Ever--once Eli Cardale--will never know the righteous justice, the epic release, of punishment, nor will he know the sweet cradle of Heaven's eternal light. But he will know suffering. Victor Vale made sure of that.

[belit0]

Indra family

Where Ivy needs a break from the boys, including Indra-

Like

"OKAY THAT'S IT, I NEED A BREAK- NO ONE IS FOLLOWING US"

Stood up took Amy and left the compound for a while kskdkckcn

How would that go? Kakdkdnx unexpected mother and daughter Bonding

Will Indra and the sons gonna follow them secretly? Or no?

ASJDHKAJSHDKADSJA AH SHIT CHAOS IS COMING

It started with a single glance.

Ivy, standing in the center of their home, arms crossed, eyes scanning the absolute disaster unfolding before her.

The laundry? Not done.

The dishes? Stacked to the ceiling.

The twins? Running wild.

Raizen? Halfway through scolding them.

Indra? Looking like he was about to declare war.

And Ame, her sweet baby girl, was clutching the hem of Ivy’s robes, wide-eyed, absorbing the chaos like a sponge.

Ivy inhaled deeply.

Then—

-Alright. I’ve had enough.

Silence.

Even the twins, who had been mid-wrestle, froze.

-Mommy?- Ame blinked up at her.

-Mommy needs a break, baby.

Then, she turned to the rest of the room.

-You’re all on your own.

A beat of confusion.

Raizen narrowed his eyes.

-…What?

Indra frowned, sharp and deadly.

-What are you talking about?

Ivy ignored them. She knelt down, scooping Ame into her arms.

-Mommy, where are we going?- Ame whispered.

-Anywhere men are not.

And with that, she was gone.

The compound doors shut.

No one moved.

Then, Hikari let out a breath.

-She’ll come back, right?

Inari shifted.

-…Right?

A heavy pause.

And then, Indra exhaled through his nose.

-This is going to be a disaster.

Day one – the initial collapse

The first twelve hours were spent in denial.

-She’ll come back by evening.- Raizen had said, crossing his arms.

She did not.

By the time the sun had set, the consequences were setting in.

-We have no food.

-Where’s my uniform? It was supposed to be washed.

-Who was in charge of cleaning the hallways?

-Father, do something.

Indra, who had sat in his usual chair, reviewing reports, snapped the scroll shut.

-Figure it out.

The three brothers turned to each other.

Hikari and Inari immediately pointed at Raizen.

-You’re the responsible one, fix it.

Raizen shot them a glare.

-I am not your mother.

-No, but she left you in charge.

Raizen’s brow twitched.

-She did not.

-She totally did.

Raizen exhaled, exasperated.

-Fine. We’ll handle this like men.

Day two – chaos takes over

By morning, the estate was a mess.

Laundry: Still not done.

Kitchen: A disaster zone.

Breakfast: Burned. (Inari’s fault.)

Discipline: Nonexistent.

The twins had officially lost control.

They wrestled in the halls, threw pillows at each other, and tried to use Indra’s cloak as a sled down the stairs.

Raizen caught them just in time.

-What are you doing.

-Testing physics.

Raizen rubbed his temples.

-Father! Say something!

Indra, half-distracted, merely glanced over.

-You’re old enough to handle this.

Raizen scowled.

-That is not the point.

-Then find the point.- Indra’s eyes narrowed, bored, unreadable. -And fix it.-

Raizen swore under his breath.

Meanwhile, the twins had disappeared again.

-Where did they—

CRASH.

A loud explosion of sound came from the courtyard.

Raizen turned, and his face dropped.

The twins had tried to build a cooking fire outside.

They had failed.

Indra rose from his chair.

-I swear to the gods—

-IT’S UNDER CONTROL!- Inari yelped.

It was not.

Dinner was ruined.

Disaster loomed.

And still—Ivy did not return.

Day three – absolute desperation

At dawn, Indra sat at the table, silent.

The kitchen was a mess.

The courtyard smelled like burnt failure.

The twins were exhausted, curled on the floor, muttering about missing Ivy’s cooking.

Raizen looked defeated.

-This is shameful.

Indra exhaled slowly.

-Yes. Yes, it is.

A long, miserable pause.

Then, the doors creaked open.

And there stood Ivy and Ame.

Ame, well-rested and freshly bathed, looked at the absolute disaster in front of her and blinked.

-Oh wow.

Ivy smirked.

-So. Did you all learn your lesson?

The three sons glanced away, muttering.

-Yes, Mother.

-We are sorry, Mother.

Even Raizen exhaled.

-Please don’t ever do that again, Mother.

-Good. Next time, you’ll appreciate me more.

Indra, however, did not speak.

Ivy turned to him.

-And?

He met her gaze, sharp and unrelenting.

Then, in one slow motion, he stood, towering over her, lowering his head to murmur—

-If you ever try this again, woman, I will find you myself.

Ivy only laughed.

She had won.

[acourtofthought]

I haven't seen this particular gem of a post but there is apparently one going around stating that everyone in the ACOTAR world has suffered more than Lucien, that he doesn't know suffering.

Just a little starter here. The first book began with Lucien's friend being murdered because they needed to sacrifice him in order to break the curse on Spring.

"Autumn Court is ...cutthroat. Beautiful, but his brothers see each other only as competition, since the strongest of them will inherit the title."

"Lucien fell in love with a faerie whom his father considered to be grossly inappropriate for someone of his bloodline." "His father had her put down. Executed, in front of Lucien, as his two eldest brothers held him and made him watch."

"Without his title protecting him, his brothers thought to eliminate one more contender to the High Lord's crown. Three of them went out to kill him."

"But he has never forgotten what they did to her, or what his brothers tried to do to him. Even if he pretends that he has."

"She took his eye as punishment. Carved it out with her own fingernail, then scarred his face. She sent him back so bloody that Tamlin...The High Lord vomited when he saw his friend."

Lucien's brothers lurked on the edges of the crowd - no remorse, no fear on their handsome faces. Amarantha sighed. "I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue." Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready - he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self into dust.

"but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien's punishment. Twenty lashes." (remember, because he tried to help Feyre in her trial? Also she prevented Lucien from being able to heal).

"Lucien lay chained to the center of the floor on the other side of the chamber, his remaining russet eye so wide that it was surrounded with white. / Again he was to be Amarantha's toy to torment."

"Don't give me that look, Lucien." SIlence again. Then a vicious snarl, and a shudder of magic rocked the house. Tamlin's voice had been low, deadly. Do not push me on this. I didn't want to know what was happening in that room, what he'd done to Lucien.

Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever and sad, endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless -

"She - she didn't act that way at..." Lucien. Lucien had hated her. Had made vague, vicious allusions to not liking her, to being approached by her. I was going to throw up. Had she...had she pursued him like that? Had he...had he been forced to say yes because of her position?

He might have completed the Great Rite with Ianthe of his own free will, but he certainly hadn't enjoyed it. Some line had been blurred - badly.

I waited the five minutes it took Tamlin to decide not to kill Lucien, and then smiled. I wondered if Lucien had pieced it together. That I had known Tamlin would come to my room tonight, after I had given him so many shy touches and glances today.

"Back off". "Do not touch me," he growled." Where Lucien stood, back against a tree - twin bands of blue stone shackled around his wrists. / And in this case...holding Lucien against that tree as Ianthe surveyed him like a snake before a meal. She slid a hand over the broad panes of his chest, his stomach. And Lucien's eyes shot to me as I stepped between the trees, fear and humiliation reddening his golden skin.

As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn't particularly needed or wanted."

"Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?"

The circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him.

"I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. And a whole lot of nothing.

"I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I'm willing to be I'm no longer welcome at h- the Spring Court." Home, he had almost said.

"The same things he does now." Helion waved a hand. "Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them." (So to recap, Beron physically and verbally abuses his WIFE, killed Lucien's love and people think he had an easy childhood with this man?)

It would explain why his father and brothers detest him so much - why they have tormented him his entire life.

I hadn't asked Lucien any questions about that visit - to Tamlin. Lucien hadn't explained the black eye and cut lip, either.

"I don't have anywhere else to go." "You ruined any chances I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone either still believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit" - Side note but even knowing this, about how the people feel about him because of Feyre's schemes, Lucien still allowed the NC to permanently station him there in SF. It's really cute of E/riels to think Az is having such a rough go of it, living in the Night Court with the brothers who love him, while Lucien just has it so easy, right?

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris's and Beron's cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father.

This paragraph is about Eris: Beron had tortured his own son for information, rather than thanking the Mother for returning him. / The male had been raised with every luxury and privilege - on paper. But who knew what terrors Beron had inflicted upon him?

So with that said, If that's how Beron treated his own son how do you think he treated the son he suspected belonged to another man?

Cassian knew Beron had murdered Lucien's lover. If the High Lord of Autumn had been willing to do that, what wouldn't he do?

So by all means, I'd love to know how a character who we have canon evidence of suffering from his younger years all the way through the present has it so much easier than everyone else?

Someone's selective reading is showing!!

[themosleyreview]

The Mosley Review: Bad Boys: Ride or Die

There is an important lesson being taught here to filmmakers that step into a franchise they are fans of. Fans of a franchise can be the most devoted and best choice to continue on the franchise, but if they are not in service of the story, the characters or the identity of the franchise, then they aren't the right one to take it on. You cannot come in with your own biases, agendas or what your idea of what the franchise is. True fans of a franchise know this and take that lesson to heart and deliver an outstanding entry and that's what this directing duo has done yet again. The Bad Boys franchise has always been about the classic buddy cop relationship that keeps you engaged in between the amazing action. This franchise has a strong beating heart of love and fun at its core and this film keeps that heart pumping at a hardy pace. The previous film was a welcomed return that had its moments of flare, stylistic action and comedy, but it focused on the story and the humanity of the characters first. That same elegance of storytelling continues in this new entry and it may be a bit more kinetic, sometimes overwhelming, but it still lands strongly in the category of greatness.

Will Smith and Martin Lawrence return as our favorite dynamic duo Detective Lieutenant Mike Lowry and Detective Lieutenant Marcus Burnett and they haven't skipped a beat. The magnetic chemistry between them is what keeps you engaged and I loved that this film once again drives home that brotherly love they have for one another. Like the last film, they both deal with their mortality in a unique way as they are older now. Mike has an unexpected growth in personality and I loved that he isn't as perfect anymore. You see him deal with a personal disorder that he must overcome and it is pretty inspiring the way Will portrays it. Marcus gets a new lease on life and lets go of the whiney tone and actually has more pep in his step. In a sense, Mike and Marcus switched perspectives and role types as Marcus has become the more reckless and Mike has become the more cautious. I loved his spirituality which made for some great moments of comedy where Martin truly shined the brightest. Vanessa Hudgens and Alexander Ludwig return as AMMO teammates Kelly and Dorn and they were both fantastic yet again. They weren't an after thought and they both were a powerhouse in the action and held their own when on screen with Mike and Marcus. Paola Núñez was awesome yet again and now as Captain of the Miami PD, Rita Secada. I loved her strength in the film and her chemistry with Mike and Marcus is still strong. Its a mild spoiler, but I hated the fact that her and Mike didn't end up together. Ioan Gruffudd was good as Adam Lockwood and its always great to see him on screen. Joe Pantoliano is always a welcomed face and seeing him as Captain Howard one last time was heartwarming. Jacob Scipio returns as Mike's son, Armando Aretas and he was just as badass and deadly. I liked the strained avenue that Mike and Armando go down as their father and son relationship is slowly being built. Eric Dane enters the franchise as the new threat and I liked him as James McGrath. He was cunning, quick and brutal and wasn't about world domination. I liked the history behind the character even if his motivation was a bit boring. Dennis Greene returns as Reggie McDonald and he has always been the butt of the joke in the past films since his iconic entrance. I loved that in this film, he finally earns respect and he becomes the MVP of the film in an amazing scene.

Composer Lorne Balfe returns with an absolute knockout of a score. Not only does he have his unique touch of intensity, but he continued to incorporate, modulate and evolve the iconic Bad Boys score and themes by original composer Mark Mancina. It drives me up the wall when composers don't use the iconic themes of a franchise and I loved that Lorne kept it alive and flowing throughout the film in multiple variations. The action in this film was top of the line and felt classical in its practical execution. It was gritty, bloody fun that had me smiling from ear to ear. There is a bridge sequence that leads to the iconic Bad Boys shot, but that scene felt a little disjointed and dizzying in the placement of characters. There is a feeling of finality to the franchise as it sort of gives a loving look back at the past films with fun parallels and role reversals. Directing duo Adil & Bilall truly love Bad Boys and it shows in every inch of the screen from the action, the character development and comedy. They have done a magnificent job in delivering an even better entry than the last and I can't wait to own the 4K Bluray. This is definitely the best action film of the year so far! Let me know what you thought of the film or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

[jdeclerc]

a brother's intervention - part one

part two

pairing: eris x reader.

summary: Lucien uses a day spent with his brother to do what he believes is best for him - even if Eris doesn't agree.

author's note: for my friend; this is an extension of an idea she wanted to see come to life - part two anyone?

warnings: none

word count: 2,034

Lucien can’t remember the last time he’s seen his brother smile like he has today. Or smile at all, for that matter.

The last five years have been filled with countless meetings, treaty creations and signings, and the rebuilding of a broken court after centuries of tyranny. Rarely was Beron’s name mentioned after his death, but his presence had been felt all the same. Lucien had watched his brother work to undo their father’s destruction, sacrificing himself with each and every day. Eris shouldered it so those around him wouldn’t have to.

But today, it seems, he carries none of that weight. Thanks, in large part, Lucien thinks, to who he had invited on what was supposed to be a day of brotherly bonding.

Y/N had been in their lives for as long as either of the Vanserras could remember, having been taken in as a ward of their mother after the death of her own parents. None knew why Beron allowed his wife to do so but no one was foolish enough to question him.

She was the daughter their mother had dreamed for. She was taught to paint, to play the piano, and to move eloquently through high society; everything a proper Lady of the Autumn Court was expected to be. But their mother understood this would never be enough, knew that Y/N needed the skills to protect herself in ways their mother never could.

For every lesson in swinging a sword or perfecting the magic they wielded that the Vanserra sons were given, Y/N was given the same lesson. This duty fell to Lucien, the most patient and compassionate of the brothers. He would show her everything he learned under the cover of night. It was when Eris discovered them practicing defensive maneuvers that everything changed.

Lucien had expected his brother to immediately drag them both in front of their father and watch as they were punished. Instead, Eris began correcting Y/N’s stance and going through the motions alongside her. And every night from then on, he would join them. Though he would never admit it, Eris became invested in Y/N’s training and her advancement. He transformed her into a force as deadly and lethal as he was.

Lucien would never forget the smile Eris tried to hide the first time Y/N had beaten him in a sparring match. From his position on the ground, he looked up at her as though she was the most beautiful star in the sky. Much like the first time Eris had trained with them, Lucien knew something had changed in his brother that day.

For every scar, both physical and emotional, Y/N received from the High Lord of Autumn, Eris received three for doing everything he could to protect her from their father’s wrath. As they got older, Eris could do nothing to prevent Y/N from doing the same for him. Lucien couldn’t count how many times their arguments over the topic had ended with the two screaming at one another. Neither willing to concede that the other was right in wanting to stand between the other and Beron.

Lucien truly believed that who Eris and Y/N became to each other was something only the workings of fate could have crafted. Where one ended, the other began. They challenged, supported, and loved one another in ways no one else could. Neither would be who they are without the other.

They were two of the smartest fae Lucien had ever met but they were both still too foolish to get over themselves and admit what Lucien had known from the beginning; they both wanted, needed, more than friendship from the other.

That ended today.

Lucien would see them happy, see them together, and he hoped that what he was about to do would finally put an end to the two dancing around one another.

Their day had been a tour of places the brothers haven’t visited since they were young. Eris was currently showing Y/N the stone castle they had built as children. They had all grown too much to go inside but Lucien could see Eris playing out the fake battles and wars they had fought against one another, with Y/N laughing and playing right along.

They were far too engrossed in one another to notice Lucien rising from the rock he was sitting on. They missed him making his way toward where the horses had been tied, missed Lucien untying the reins and mounting his horse. Not even Eris’ two hounds that had accompanied them alerted their master, as though even they knew this was what is best for him. It was only as Lucien was riding away with the two unoccupied horses following that he heard both of their shouts of protest.

As their voices fade behind him Lucien slows the horses and looks up to the sky. He prays to the Mother that he had made the right decision, that the next time he sees the two they would have begun seeing each other in completely different light.

----------

“I swear I will kill him where he stands when I see him next. What the fuck was he thinking?!”

I can’t help but roll my eyes at Eris’ words, knowing full well they hold the emptiest of threats.

“A slow, painful death.”

“Eris.”

He simply keeps speaking, not having heard me say his name.

“I will not have him thinking he can do this and there be no –”

“Eris.”

My second attempt at getting his attention does nothing to stop him.

“Perhaps I will have my hounds do it, they have an affinity for –”

“ERIS!”

It was my shout that finally has Eris cease his pacing and turn to face me. He levels his amber eyes with my own as though he knows exactly what I will say next.

“You are about to tell me that you’re sure he had a reason, a very good one at that, for abandoning us in the middle of the woods. For leaving us with no way of getting back to the Forest House that won’t take hours.”

I remained silent and the grin that took over Eris’ face told me he knew he was right. I had been about to defend Lucien without hesitation.

“That’s what I thought.”

I know there is no reason or explanation that will placate Eris in this moment so without another word I turn in the direction Lucien had gone and begin walking.

“And where do you think you’re off to?”

“According to you getting back to the Forest House will take hours, so we better start walking. Wouldn’t want to miss the lovely dinner Lucien invited us to.” I throw the words over my shoulder, missing the expression of annoyance on Eris’ face at the use of his own words against him.

---------

No words pass between us as we walk, Eris keeping pace with me the entire time. I can feel the frustration from our earlier conversation passing between us but don’t protest to Eris’ position beside me.

Eris is the first to concede, as was the case with most of our arguments ending in us not speaking to one another.

“Are we really doing this? We’re not speaking because of my imbecilic brother?”

“If you continue to act like a babe who had their candy taken away, then yes, this entire walk will be spent in utter, never-ending silence.”

“You’re truly taking his side on this? He left us in the middle of the forest, taking our horses with him, without a word. Knowing full well, I may add, that neither of us can winnow because we are still on the Forest House’s grounds. Why I ever let you talk me into having that ward put up, I will never know.”

“If I recall, you agreed that not giving anyone the power of winnowing on the grounds was a good strategy, should we ever need to defend our home. Or am I not remembering correctly?”

“You know damn well you are.”

I shoot him a shit-eating grin, to which he responds with an eye roll of his own.

“There will be consequences for this, be sure of that. I will not have him thinking he can do something like this again. He better have the best cauldron-damned excuse or so help me he will be banished from this court for the second time.”

Y/N knows two things in that moment.

The first, that, like earlier, Eris doesn’t truly mean the words he is speaking. He had watched Lucien leave his life once before and would do everything in his power to prevent him from leaving his home, his family, for a second time.

The second being that the only way I could get Eris to move on from his ranting and raving is to tell him the reason I believe Lucien did what he did. Putting words to things I still don’t believe I’m brave enough to say even though I may be moments from saying them.

I slow my pace, coming to a stop. Eris notices only when I speak, my words just above a whisper.

“He did it for me.”

I can see Eris’ body stiffen, tension taking over, and he does not turn to face me.

Moments feel like years in the silence that envelopes the grove we find ourselves in. The only sound being the late autumn wind through the trees, making it seem as though my words cause the entire world to pause.

Eris’ back is still to me as he says, “Explain to me how my brother could possibly think this situation is to your benefit?”

It is the lethality with which Eris speaks the words that has me stumbling over my own.

“Well, I’m…I’m obviously not absolutely sure why he did this or if he did do this for me. I’ve certainly never implied or hinted that I’d want him to abandon me, us, in the woods.” My voice becomes quicker the longer I speak. “We’ve spoken about certain topics; he’s wanted me to speak to you countless times and he’s told me to stop being a coward and tell you but…but I never asked him to do anything about it. Why he would choose this course I do not know.” By the end I am speaking to myself more than I am speaking to Eris. Too wrapped up in my own words to notice Eris turning and pinning his gaze on me.

“Tell me what Y/N?”

My gaze shoots to his, instantly realizing my mistake and cursing myself. My shock so sudden that I can’t form the words of a response.

“What would Lucien have you tell me that would cause him to call the female he most admires a coward?” He raises a single eyebrow in question. “Tell me Y/N.” With every word Eris steps closer to me, leaving him nothing but an arm’s length away.

Once again, the world seems to pause. Every bit of oxygen having fled, much like I wish I could at the moment. I tear my gaze from his piercing one, knowing I can’t bear to see his face when I speak the words I swore I never would. I keep my eyes to the ground as I say them.

“I love you.”

I’m met with silence, and I feel my tears coming before I feel them gather under my eyes.

A hand comes to rest along the edge of my jaw, tilting my chin up to meet eyes that are an endless pool of gold.

We both know my words are not the same as when one of us leaves for an extended period, not the same as those I say to Lucien, and not the same as those his mother says to both of us every day.

Eris searches my expression, looking for what I know he has come to expect from vulnerable moments. His father having taught him that vulnerability went hand-in-hand with manipulation and deception.

After a moment longer he drops his hand and steps back, his voice filled with resignation and finality as he speaks.

“You can’t love me, not in that way.”

[cartoonsbrainrot]

"Clash Of The Cousins AU"

You're probably wondering "What is "Clash Of The Cousins"?" Well, to put it simply, this is my take on "What if Hades and Persephone were a thing in Disney's Hercules and their kids were part of the animated tv series?".

Basically, I had this idea where Zagreus, Prince of The Underworld, enrolled at Prometheus Academy and became friends with his cousin, Hercules. The title for the fictitious episode where Zag makes his first appearance became "Hercules and the Clash of the Cousins", as a play on "Clash of the Titans", ergo the name of this AU.

Haven't worked out all the details yet, but I'll get there eventually.

But while we're here, let's dive into the members of the House of Hades, to get a feeling of who they are:

Hades — we all know Disney's version of Hades, there's not much to add, other than the fact that he's in love with his wife and she's the only one who can tell him what to do(in this house, the Queen is the true head of the family). His children are his pride and joy, Hades is only sweet and gentle with Persephone and their kids (but don't let anyone know that).

Persephone — there is a "canon" design for her (pink skin and flower crown, long blonde hair and purple eyes) if you look it up and, for me, that design works, but only because @donttouchhadesbaklava draws her so beautifully. In terms of personality, Persephone is a very sweet Goddess, friendly and outgoing, but don't let that fool you. She's still a queen, regal in the presence of mortals and Gods alike, but can switch to a more darker, sinister version of herself if you piss her off, or (Gods forbid), disrespect her and her family.

Zagreus — firstborn child of Hades and Persephone and their only son, Zag is calm and collected, like his mother. And, just like Seph, if you manage to enrage him, you better count your days. He's also a good strategist, courtesy of the lessons Hades gave his son. After all, the boy is the Prince of the Underworld. He's bound to learn from his father how to run the place.

As for his looks, Zagreus is his father's son, from the flaming blue hair, to the black clothes. His skin is a few shades bluer than Hades', but that's mostly because the kid spends time in the sun. His eyes are purple, like Persephone's, and his head shape is rounder, his facial features not as pronounced as his dad's. But they are still very distinctly a mirror of Hades' own face (younger and full of life though).

Melinoe — second born, first daughter, and the apple of her dad's eyes. Don't get me wrong, Hades loves his son, but the man is a girl dad at heart.

Meli is sardonic, and at times forgets that the people around her have feelings. She does care for her siblings and loves her parents, but she's not exactly the one to show it. Seph sees a lot of her husband in their daughter. Hades spoiled Meli when she was little, and maybe that's why she has that attitude.

Her skin is similar to her brother's, her facial features more leaning towards her mother's and her eyes are the same shade of yellow as her father's. Her hair is green though (You know, 'cause blue + yellow = green. That, and her grandmother, Demeter, is green in the movie.) Melinoe also keeps her hair shorter than Persephone's, about shoulder length. She says "it's easier to manage it this way".

Makaria — youngest child and sweet as can be. While her siblings are more like their father in terms macabre demeanor and monochromatic wardrobe, Mac is a ray of sunshine, similarly to how Persephone was in her youth. Full of life, bubbly personality, loves to meet new people and make friends, and is obsessed with flowers, having memorized thousands of species by now. But her favorites are the ones that are pretty and deadly.

She's a mini Persephone in terms of looks too, though her eyes are yellow like Hades'. And her face is shaped more like her dad's. Also, Mac is the only one who inherited her dad's pointy ears.

Sooo, here they are.

Headcanon ages for the kids are: Zag ‐ 16, Meli ‐ 13 and Mac ‐ 8.

I've tagged the posts with them as "#clash of the cousins", for those interested.

[sitp-recs]

Hello!! Hope youre doing well <3 Do you have any kid fics u could recommend??? I'm mainly looking for crack fics but anything would do the job tbh :) Thank youu

Hi anon! I’m hanging in there, what about you? Kid fic is not my usual jam but I’ve read a few shorts and am sharing them below. Oh, and I’ve heard great things about The Lesson of You by thecouchsofa - you might want to check it out!

Blue Sky Is Living Here Today by ignatiustrout (G, 5k)

Draco's a father, Harry's in love with him, and it's really hard to take things slow.

A Hippogriff for Christmas by @xanthippe74 (G, 6.5k)

Draco is desperately trying to fulfill four-year-old Scorpius’ dearest wish for Christmas: a visit with a real Hippogriff. Harry is desperately trying to be left alone, safely tucked away from the attention of the wizarding world as Hogwarts’ Keeper of the Keys and Grounds.

Our Ordinary Days by Lomonaaeren (M, 8k)

Two men, both fathers of sons, meet in a bookshop. And the rest is the kind of history that doesn't make history.

Little Talks by Femme and noeon (E, 11k)

Draco's been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he's sure it's just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong.

Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic (M, 15k)

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year…

The Strongest Affinity by @eidheann (T, 17k)

Trouble finding a wand for Scorpius leads Harry and Draco to something they never imagined.

DIY Messiah by scoradh (M, 26k)

Harry stopped hating Draco Malfoy on Bring Your Kids to Work Day. Cw: infidelity (Hinny)

And some recs with a side of humor:

Dad Says by GallaPlacidia - can be found HERE

The Whole Set by @dracogotgame (G, 2k)

Four times Harry and Draco just knew what House their kids would get sorted into...and what actually happened.

Dating Potters by GoldenTruth813, Mzuul (E, 8k) - Drarry, Scorbus, Jeddy

Scorpius and Albus have been together for awhile now and decide it's time to have a family dinner and come out to their fathers. What they're not counting on is the fact that they're not the only ones with secrets to share.

Dating for Dads in Denial by @aibidil (T, 25k)

In which one wizard designs and another reluctantly patronises a magical matchmaking service, amidst the chaos of children and parenting.

Desperately Seeking... by @maesterchill (E, 34k)

Harry Potter is NOT desperate for someone to love. He DOESN'T need anyone's help to find a date. And he CERTAINLY doesn't want to go on a dating show! Unfortunately for him, his teenage children have other ideas. After all, they know just how big and loving (and a little bit lonely) their dad's heart is.

There's a Pure-Blood Custom For That by Lomonaaeren (M, 106k)

The day that Harry stops Draco Malfoy and his son from being bothered in the middle of Diagon Alley starts a strange series of interactions between him and Malfoy. Who knew there was a pure-blood custom for every situation?

[vitzi9]

I'll be patient, just for you.

Masterlist if you want to read my others things. Prequel of Patience is the key to sucess.

TW/CW: breaking in, voyeurism, ghostface

I feel like this is weird? Or cliché ? I can't tell but I don't really like it. (8/07/2023) (1678)

Ethan has always been a lonely man. Even in his own family, he wasn't loved. His father was talking about his lost son every hour of the damn day, his sister was too. Both of them had spent years trying to find the perfect revenge plan. It was the only thing in their mind. Their plan still wasn't finished yet and for the moment all he had to do was befriending some dumbs students for him to get closer to.

It was a long and boring process. Playing the embarrassed nerd every second, faking being insecure and everything. It was boring. Deadly so.

But it wasn't that much of a waste of time since it's then and there that he discovered his passion; killing and frightening people. In pair with lying. He always think: how many times can I lie to someone before they see it ? How big can my lie be and still pass ? It was his hobby now. The adrenaline he felt while taking the life of someone was exhilarating. He was Ghostface, now. It was beautiful !

So he joined a college and started to blend in. To others, he was the shy dorky nerd without friends, too stupid to hurt a fly. And it was perfect. Ethan was smart, incredibly so. And he was competitive. He was a genius and no one could challenge him, he was the first of every one of his classes. And if someone dared surpass him, he would get angry, really angry.

And no one was suspecting him, too ! Chad just wanted for him to get into a relationship, Tara, Anika and Sam weren't paying too much attention to him, sure Mindy found him weird but that was all.

His cover was perfect.

One day, paying attention to the lesson. He doesn't notice how his pen fell on the ground. Nor when you grabbed it for him. He felt someone tap on his shoulder. Turning his head, he's face to face with you.

You were plain, somewhat of a background character. You didnt't look like you'd be fun to play with, like you'd just cry if he'd chase after you. So he didn't really paid attention to you. Staying in his role, he smiles and thanks you. You smile back.

He didn't even know your name, in fact, he didn't know the name of the majority of people in the class. There were too much persons in this big room. He never noticed you, until now. Why were you seated beside him ? And when did you sit here ? One quick look at the room gave him the answer; there wasn't enough sits.

Chad nudges his side, Ethan moans from the pain. His roomate gives him a pointed look, smiling slyly. Ethan just shrugs. He was terribly annoying, not even funny. If he had any choice in the revenge plan of his father, this dumb guy would be his first victim. Seriously, his name is Chad ? What the hell ?

Ethan glances back at you briefly when he sees a pins on your pencil case; on it, the head of the puppet from the movies Saw. He was intrigued. He liked horror movie as well, and challenge even more. Saw could be really trash for some people, with physical and psychological horror. At first, it was just a game for him really.

He wanted to see how much time he needed to scare you off.

How much time he needed to make you cry, shake and beg for your life. He wanted to speedrun ruining you.

For that, he needed some material. Ethan was a theater kid at heart. He liked to make things dramatics. He grabbed a rope and a black spraypaint. That's all he needed for now. He went to the cash register and gave his 5 dollars note. The cashier told him thirty cents were missing. He was going to bargain, even going to break his character if he needed to, but someone was quicker.

One coin of twenty and one of ten had been put on the counter next to his hand. Surprised, he follows the arm that laid it until he sees the owner of it. You. You smiled at him politly. You, who was the reason he was buying this in the first place. You were nothing like the you from school. You were even pretty. He couldn't even proceed the information but he just stuttered something, a thanks maybe, he can't even remember. But he left with his articles, head low and cheeks red.

Two days later, (the time he needed for him to understand the reaction he had at the store), he was ready. He would follow you at school, for the sole reason he wanted to scare you, of course. He'd write threats to the sit you usually sit on. But you always brush them off, thinking it was just some aweful joke from another student. Even if he wrote your name on it, you wouldn't budge.

He hang up a doll to the ceiling once, to get a reaction out of you. Didn't work either. He tried a lot more things before he realized he had stepped down the creepyness. His creepy jokes were similar to one a kid do. The more he wanted to scare you, the less he was doing. But he was doing it on purpose.

He knew he was doing it on purpose, the pictures of you on his phone were giving him away. Pictures of you in your room, changing clothes, sleeping, walking. Everything. But everyone do that, right ?Every man his age had a crush, after all. But Ethan never had one. He didn't have a normal life after all, nor a normal family. So it's not surprising.

Is that what men feel ? Surely, yes. He couldn't, and wouldnt anyway, ask his dad on the matter. He soon realized it wasn't normal to obsess over someone this way. But at this point it was too late. He killed people, he could deepen in the uncontroversially. A Polaroid of you talking to you friend was well hidden in his nightstand. Your friend's face was crossed out.

This picture was his favourite because he got to be so so close to you that day he thought that wasn't real. You weren't even smiling on the picture, your friend was probably telling you sad things but he didn't care. He spent countless night staring at this picture.

He craved something else. He didn't know what exactly but the more he was looking at you, the prettier you were becoming. And you were nice to him too. Well, the two only times both of you talked, you were incredibly nice to him. And he discovered you had similar center of interest ! You had scary books in your room, you listened to artists he liked, or learnt to like, and like him you hadn't a lot of friends !

But there was that thing, you weren't scared. But on another side, Ethan is not sure he wants to see you just scared now. He wasn't satisfied anymore.

No, his need was stronger now. He wanted to scare you, but mostly detroy you. It was something really simple in his mind. Something quick to understand but hard to plan. Human is gregarious. Human needs to be in a group or in a pair, it's a fact. But what if an human is left alone ? Then, he'll seek refuge with someone else. Even if it's not truthful. Even if it's a fake relation, because human need compagny. It give them a sense of safety.

And that now, was more terryfing that any stupid movie. Because Ethan was controlling everything in this plan. Because he get to see you scared shitless, to see you cry and beg for you life, he get to destroy you and you'll still come back for him for comfort.

In this plan, Ethan was winning on every fronts. He had everything and you nothing.

Though, he had to control himself at some point. He couldn't act too quickly. It wasn't something you can do in a blinking of an eye. Plus, you still exerted a force on him.

That he wants it or not.

That persona he was sick of playing with his so called friends, weirdly enough, he was really getting into it when you were around. When you looked at him, even for a brief second, he was the embarrassed nerd. When you looked at someone else, he was insecure.

But he'd overcome that, eventually.

Often, you'd come to your friend's apartment and he would love these moments ! Because he could hide in the bathroom and listen to your conversation. At first, his audacity had him doubt about his plan. But your friend was so so stupid ! Since he already locked himself in the bathroom multiple times before, she was used to it by now. Just thinking that it was stuck sometimes and she wouldn't insist. Ethan was free to do what he wanted.

After that, he decided he needed more. He knew your bedroom window was giving to a little street below. And it became a habit for him to go there every night. You couldn't see him, less hear him. But he was talking to you, every time. Most of the time, he was seated on the ground, head glued to your room.

'You're so pretty' he'd whisper after a long day. 'Good night lovely' he'd say when you turn off the light. And once deep asleep, he'd enter your apartment. He already duplicated your keys; his most prized posession. He would just stare at your sleeping form. Sometimes, he'd watch the TV without sound on your couch. Wanting to create a domestic feeling in him.

But each time, once the night is over, you'd see each other at school and you would act as if you don't know him.

And he really, really hated you for it.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Can you give a snippet of any story?

Sure thing! Currently I’m working on Visited on the Son. I wanted to have this chapter out by Halloween because it takes place around Halloween but obviously that didn’t happen. So I hope you all enjoy those vibes because you’re going to get a second dose of them. Enjoy!

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It was a week before Halloween. They were coming back from their typical lessons, Spider half asleep on his father’s shoulder ready for his mid day nap. When the group passed through the airlock Miles took off his son’s mask then handed him off to Lyle. The little boy groaned his protest. Miles smiled gently, petting his hair, “shhh, it’s okay.” Then he turned to his right hand man, “can you take him home for me. Just lay him on the couch. I won’t be long. I just need to have a talk with the science wizzes here.”

All the scientists present stiffened. Lyle nodded, grinning wickedly at the surrounding humans, “you got it boss.” The recoms all filed out.

Miles turned to the rest of the room clapping his hands to gain their attention despite the fact that he already commanded the space. “You all listen up. You might not be keeping up with earth time but it’s almost Halloween. My boy wants to celebrate by dressing up and going trick or treatin’. But to do that he needs homes to go to. That’s where you come in. My man Mansk has made up heaps of candy. On Halloween day he’ll bring some to all of y’a. All you have to do is wait in your apartments for Spider and his friends to get there. Sound good?”

Despite their fear the scientists all grinned. “I’d love to put on Halloween for Spider,” Norm said.

“Oh I bet he’s so excited,” said Max, “I can’t wait to see his face when he gets all that candy! What’s he going as?”

For once a scientist looked at him without fear. Miles grinned, pleasantly surprised at the enthusiasm. “Toruk. And Sully’s kids are coming too.”

The room started buzzing. “We should decorate.” “Oh we could have a movie night in the cafeteria.” “Yeah! We could have a make your own caramel apple station!” Someone actually giggled, “I can’t believe we’ve never done this! I always loved Halloween! Let’s break for the day and start right now…”

“Well I for one think this is ridiculous,” Nash McCosker reared his ugly head. “We’re all supposed to give up our time just so your little boy can have his day.”

“Nash we want too…” a female scientist said timidly.

With herculean effort Miles controlled the boundless rage that erupted inside him at the very sight of the piece of garbage in front of him. With deadly calm he said, “You are the only one I don’t want to participate. Mark my words McCosker. If you ruin this for my son and anyone else here who wants to celebrate, then you better pray to whatever god you believe in because it’ll take an almighty power to stop me from comin’ after you. That’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”

Nash backed down, like a dog with its tail between its legs. “My wife and I will stay in our apartment.”

“You better.”

[southsidestory]

The Valley of the End: Ch 21 Sneak Peek

When Sasuke was four years old, a thunderstorm hit Konoha. He’d only seen rain, never lightning, and the bright, branching flashes outside his window terrified him. Father would be angry if he found out. Even as a little boy, Sasuke knew that much.

He also knew that his mother was the safest place in the whole, wide world (a small world, actually, but he didn’t understand that yet).

Sasuke woke her in the middle of the night with a silent tug on her nightgown sleeve. Father was out of town on some important Hokage business, so he didn’t have to worry about getting caught.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her question blurred with sleep.

“The storm. It’s…” 

“Scary?” 

He nodded.

Sometimes when Father was away and Sasuke had a nightmare, she let him sleep in the big bed, but this time she said no. 

“Bad dreams can’t hurt you when you’re awake, but storms are real. When you’re scared of something real, you shouldn’t run from it. Running will only make you more afraid.”

That didn’t make sense to Sasuke, but she taught him in the best way he could learn: by taking him outside to see the storm.

A porch wrapped around the back half of their house like protective arms. That’s where she took him that night, where she picked him up and held him on her hip, telling stories about lightning and fire.

“You’re a son of the Uchiha,” she said. “This is who you are, Sasuke. Never fear that.”

He nodded, but the next jolt of lightning still made him flinch.

His mother hugged him tighter through the rolling thunder, then sat on the porch swing with him curled up in her lap.

“As long as I’m here, I’ll never let anything hurt you.”

That wasn’t true. She tried her best, but there was only so much a wife could do from within a cold-hearted Hokage’s shadow.

Maybe she hadn’t realized that on the night she held him in her arms, teaching him that not only was she the safest place in the world, she would shape his world to be safe for him. 

She killed his fear of storms that night. As rain played music on the roof and lightning burned the skies, Sasuke discovered a love for something as beautiful as it was deadly.

Looking back, that should have been a warning sign, a lesson in and of itself. When he feels loved enough, he can look past a pretty lie. He can trust for the sake of comfort, even if real danger is barely hidden overhead.

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AN: I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek of Chapter 21! Fingers crossed that I'll have a full update to share soon.