#Savior and Scoundrel

[kedsandtubesocks]

blood on your name

Cowboy!Ezra x F!Reader

summary: Texas 1885 - the town’s ranching competition brings in new souls out from the desert, one unfortunately happens to be a ghost haunting you & he’s still as handsome and dangerous as ever

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY. MDNI, old Wild West AU, slight enemies to lovers, very morally!gray Ezra, fingering, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, one moment of spit kink, allusions to p in v, scoundrel but soft!Ezra, themes of violence & reader enacting violence on another, use of guns, blood & injury, morally!gray reader, time period views of marriage & shaming women (brief use of derogatory terms against reader), minor character deaths, light gender language usage, use of nicknames

word count: 7.2k

a/n: here’s to finally putting my 7th grade tx history lessons to some use plus I’ve been really missing west texas so here we are lol! Fun history fact - Pecos prides itself as the birth place of the rodeo so this competition is the inception of that! It took me a while to get here & this truly wouldn’t be here without @gasolinerainbowpuddles @julesonrecord & @perotovar i can’t thank you babes enough, and to you, if you decide to read this too, thank you so much ♡

The newcomers that blew into town stand around the edge of the fence.

Pecos had become famous for hosting this rope wrangling event, and you’re not surprised it’s brought others in to observe the spectacle. Just last week it seemed like more wagons wandered into the edge of town.

You’ve been living here among the desert’s harsh eyes with your aunt for a few years now. When your mother unleashed her wrath after she found you with an unmarried man who had drifted into town, you fled with the caravan heading out west. So far west it brought you to the Pecos River. You’re thankful your aunt welcomed you with open arms. The desert proved to be a harsh host. But you’ve managed.

The actual event in town wasn’t taking place until the end of the week. Except so many already want to see the cowboys proudly warming up, showing off.

It’s why you even stop on your way home from the tailor shop.

Duke Williams currently tries his hand at practicing. The handsome young star all the way from Austin shows promise while he maneuvers his threadbare rope with ease.

He lands a solid catch against one of the practice sheep running around, and the crowd claps already impressed.

His bright face, angelic almost, brightens when he smiles triumphantly. When he spots you among the on looks, he beams even wider. You smile back politely.

However, Martha, the mayor’s youngest daughter, nudges you.

“I don’t know why you haven’t let that man swoop you up yet?�� She giggles with a slight tease however, her words sting.

Duke’s been pursuing you ever since he came into town last spring. He reminds you of a newly built chapel, lovely coated in pristine and full of holy hope.

Yet, you don’t care for him.

You understand you should be married by now. Especially at your age, you’re becoming a dusting antique on the shelf by the town’s whispers. You even understood your mothers anger after discovering the man she caught you with had simply scurried away without another word.

Everyone in town seems to see Duke almost as your god blessed savior on a white horse sent to rescue you from a desolate destitution.

But you don’t hold any sense of attraction towards Duke. Even as you watch how handsome and sturdy he looks, a fierce cowboy among the other competitors, you simply admire his skills. And that’s it.

You wonder if you’re simply destined to the life of a happily secluded cactus like creature.

Something tickles against your skin, a sensation of being hyper aware of being caught in another’s gaze. Living in the desert has brought you a heightened awareness to make sure no critters lurking among can strike you.

So your eyes flicker around and find the crowd still enthralled by the sight of the cowboys.

Until you find one man isn’t.

One of the newcomers.

Sun kissed skin, an absolutely striking hawkish nose, sparse facial hair and then, the deepest dark earth eyes you’ve ever seen stare straight at you. The dusty black cowboy hat he wears casts a strange shadow across his features, cloaking him almost sinister.

Your breath hitches fast like it’s stolen from you.

You know this stranger.

One of the other newcomers nudges against him drawing his attention away from you. But your face stays stuck on him.

The men discuss with each other low and close, clustered together like a pack of desert weeds sprouting fast.

Except after the mystery outsider relays something back to the group, his eyes flicker back to you.

There’s a simmered wildness to him.

The commotion of spurs clinking comes and so many giggle around you, drawing your attention away.

Duke moves towards you with a shining grin on his face.

A desire to scurry away tugs at you. So with a polite smile, you silently duck away and decide to head home.

“Hey! Why ya leaving so soon?” He calls out. “Did you see me?”

His voice is so bright but also, so slightly arrogant, as if he can maybe keep you from leaving.

“Yes, you were incredible.” You’re truthful in your words.

Thankfully the others all around begin greedily vying for his attention.

As you turn to head home, that strange itch crawls over you again. Someone’s watching you.

So glancing around you think it must be Duke, but his attention is preoccupied.

However, it’s the handsome black cowboy hat stranger who again blatantly stares so direct at you.

A moment passes of you simply staring back at him.

However you break the contact first, needing to head home. But the entire way you sense his eyes blazing a hole on your back.

By the time you hit the edge of town towards your aunt’s cabin, the day creeps into early evening.

Above, vultures circle around high. However… there isn’t any sign of decay nearby.

- ☾𖤓 -

Your walk towards the tailor shop passes by the large stretch of land where the cowboys practice. Duke cries out your name excited. Politely you turn to greet him good morning only to find he’s not alone.

Other cowboys of course have come to wrestle in their skills. One of them surprises you.

The man you saw a few days ago is here.

His deep midnight eyes flicker to you immediately. That handsome face of his stays entirely composed.

Duke rattles on about his day. Yet you pay no attention as the new cowboy has stolen all your focus. The black cowboy hat he wears is dusty, weathered, and for some reason, you feel as if it both does and doesn’t suit him.

Duke chirps out your name again. Apologizing, you blame your dazed attention on lack of sleep.

Your night has been restless

“Hope ol’ lady Julie isn’t working y’too hard at the tailor shop.” He grins boyish and charming.

“Oh, Duke.” A smooth twang of a voice floats out. Waltzing in besides the cowboy, the newcomer arrives.

“You didn’t tell me your bird was so lovely.” His voice is curled with a smile and his voice, a deep drawl, draws an acidic venom in your mouth.

“I’m not his bird.” You politely reply.

“Not yet.” Duke adds warm, shy. But that only causes your stomach to squirm even more.

“Name’s Ezra, dear honeysuckle.” The newcomer introduces himself with a tip of his hat.

You nod back quietly giving him your name.

“Ezra came for the competition, traveled all this way just to try his hand at it!” Duke, ever the competitor, explains excited for the new competition.

Your eyes unfortunately stay on the newcomer rider.

Compared to Duke, Ezra’s frame is lithe. Then again, Duke with his incredibly tall stature is built like a terrifying boulder. Ezra’s broad shoulders and his striking sleek build makes you think of a river, fluid yet quietly powerful.

As unfortunately handsome as he is, his frame does not seem like a cowboy’s build.

Instead he reminds you of the traveling con man you once knew.

Duke continues rattling on and on about how proud he is to show off the town and this event.

You however hate the way Ezra’s eyes still on you make your skin tighten.

Excusing yourself with a soft nod, wishing them both well, you return on your way to the seamstress. Your body burns the entire way.

The day goes by slowly at the shop. After working on a few ruined blouses, Julie, the elderly shop owner, keeps you busy with tidying up. When the sun starts setting, the door clings open, and you wonder who’s coming in so late.

Ezra saunters in, and your throat tightens.

“Welcome in, newcomer!” Julie greets with a grandmotherly grace. “What can we do for you, good sir?”

Ezra smiles with all the charm of a gilded cactus.

“Seems I am in need of a new stitch for these gloves of mine.” Ezra explains pulling out worn gloves.

Leather frayed along the straps speak of the weathered and worn attention they’ve been given. But they seem too big for his hands. You even swear you’ve seen them before on his old business partner. But you don’t want to think too much on it.

Good dear sweet Julie chatters with the man. You simply stay quiet, not even turning to greet or address him.

You don’t even work on his gloves, deciding to let Julie handle them.

You even hide out in the back room, not even listening to when Ezra leaves.

Julie ends up heading home, and you’re left to close up. The sun sets a dusty fading apricot against the shadow of the tailor shop.

As you pass by the alleyway, suddenly you’re handed into the dark shadows. You’re about to scream, maybe even yelp, until a hand goes flying across your face, silencing you.

“Now now, pidge, don’t need you making too much of a holler.” Ezra.

Anger seethes in you, boiling. Violently and with a harsh yank, you tear yourself away from his grasp. You’re almost tempted to storm away.

“Didn’t think I’d ever be graced by your beauty again. That mother of yours still got that shotgun she threatened me with?” He smoothly asks with the amount of dangerous charm a rattlesnake would carry.

“What? This your last attempt at selling that watered down snake oil you call elixirs and tonics?” You snap back razor sharp.

When you first met Ezra, which now feels like lifetimes ago, he was a smooth talking traveling salesman. A drifter, as your mother so harshly called him.

Instead of the cowboy hat he wears now, he looked more stately in his bowler type cap.

He charmed so many of the women in town, trying to sell them the secrets to youth, vitality, beauty, and anything else he could promise in his elixir vials. You however, were not interested, saw right through his ruse.

Though, you realize now you were just as foolish as the others in town rapidly buying his lies. Because you had been just as charmed and fooled as they were.

This man, who’s sharp wit intrigued you, who spoke to you as an equal, became so dangerous because you were willing to give him everything.

Your heart, your body - all of you should have been reserved for your husband. Instead you freely gave everything to this thief.

The swindler swore he would take you with him, make you his wife. But when your mother’s fury came, he fled like a petrified jackrabbit.

You suppose he is more coyote than jackrabbit, greedily stealing anything he can then sneakily moving on.

Ezra’s composed grin on his face flickers, like all the history resting between you and him resurfaces within him.

“Didn’t you hear, pidgeon? My elixirs were plundered. Even my poor partner, god rest his dear soul, was shot down in cold blood!” Ezra explains with sorrow.

You had heard about that. At the edge of town, on the dirt road leading out into the hills, one of the sheriff’s found the large carriage and Ezra’s associate dead. The carriage crashed, run off the road. The damage screamed of the work of bandits. However, Ezra was nowhere to be found.

“I’m just supposed to believe you miraculously made it out of there alive?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

You don’t want to say it, but your instincts twist dangerously in your stomach. You wonder if Ezra did the deed himself, killed his partner and took the valuables.

Ezra shrugs sheepishly.

“That’s the way the desert works, honeysuckle. It’s a harsh landscape that only protects those who can survive its wrath.”

You forgot how much he spoke like a preacher sometimes, so elevated and otherworldly. You hate how badly your heart races just being this close to him again, hearing his voice again.

“So you’re telling me you came all the way here just to try your hand at the competition? Never even seen you ride, much less thrown a rope. Can’t imagine a con-man like you being a cowboy.” You reply skeptical.

He barks a laugh. “You'd be surprised. I’m a man composed of many unrevealed talents.”

You knew that very well.

Cautiously, treading like he’s approaching a mountain lion, Ezra steps closer to you. Out of instinct you step backwards closer to the other shop beside the tailors.

“Now don’t tell me you’re pondering the idea of telling everyone about my past life, pidge?” His voice is low, calm but brewing like an approaching storm.

“Because it pains me just imagining the repercussions that could arise if ya did.” He mutters, and your throat gets tight.

There's an underlying threat below his words.

Fiercely, stubbornly, you glare at him, refusing to speak. But you know you won’t say anything. He must know it too. You’ve left your past far back at home. And you don’t want him reviving your ghosts either.

Suddenly the back of Ezra’s hand gingerly, barely touching your skin, grazes against your cheek. He whispers out your name.

“The years out here have made you bloom, like a beautiful desert petal.” He mumbles with hazed eyes.

Out of spite you snap your face away and scowl even harder at him.

“I have to get home.” You snap angrily, managing to finally remove yourself from him.

“The motel houses me for the time being,” he declares from behind in the shadows.

“Unless that blonde Galahad cowboy of yours is keeping your bed warm now?” Ezra adds almost amused.

Rage bursts a furious fire in you, and it consumes you in its heated path.

“Rot in hell.” You snarl whipping back to him.

“As long as you keep me company, beautiful.” Ezra replies coy.

You’re about to curse his soul when he stomps towards you, fast and steady. His hand flings to your face, pulls you back to the shadow of the tailor shop.

He kisses you with the fierce intensity of a sudden dust storm. It even shakes your soul, spins you around, as if you were caught in an actual twister.

He tastes like the faint hints of a cigar, but something still so deliciously sinful and him. Your knees want to buckle when he easily slips his tongue inside and immediately coaxes his against yours.

You whimper, don’t even realize he’s maneuvered you to the wall of the shop, until your back gently hits the cool wood building.

It’s like your body is imprinted to his, completely answering his call, willingly and wanting to be closer to him while your hands clutch at his broad shoulders.

His body pins you firm against the building, and already he grinds his hips into you.

Then the laughter nearby bursts the bubble, snaps your attention clear.

You scramble and rapidly shove Ezra away. You don’t say another word and simply walk away.

However your lips continue to sting, as if bitten by a bee. Your hands ache empty like they’re missing the presence of his body in their grasp.

You can’t fall for this trap again.

But by the time you arrive back home, greet your aunt warmly, the lie spills from your lips before you can stop it.

“Julie wants to start the inventory sooner. So I’ll be heading back and staying over at the shop.”

Your aunt doesn’t question you, simply grins sweet and wishes you a safe trip back to town.

The sun barely sets in for the night over the horizon. The sky is a dusty blue, the softest color before bleeding into a dark midnight. The desert at night is another creature entirely. Even as you walk into town, you try to stay aware and low from any curious eyes.

The motel approaches fast. The caretaker gives you a curious look but before he can, he’s called away.

Ezra already waits for you at the top of the stairs, hidden in the shadows but still so distinct among them.

He doesn’t tease you, doesn’t even greet you. His presence seems so different with how intense he stares at you. Simply moving to intertwine his hand with yours, he guides you to his room. Inside it’s like the world melts away. It’s only you and him.

He devours you, ravenous, like trying to both make up for lost time and also feel like not a day has passed. Your hands run through his hair, knock off his cowboy hat.

You hate how badly you’ve missed this, missed him. He’s the only man your body has known, and the nights you’ve ached for him your fingers never did him justice.

When you’re bare among his bed, and his fingers slide into your wet core, you whine against his lips.

“This cunt still mine, pretty girl?” He asks mutter.

You wearily nod then all thoughts shatter when he rubs against that certain spot you can never reach. Your body crashes in a climax so shakily fast you have to catch your breath against him.

Ezra kisses the top of your head over and over.

“That’s my sweet peach,” he says in awe.

You greedily now pull him towards you, aching even more for him to be inside.

But he’s not finished with you. Ezra greed swallows your sigh before his lips move down your bare body to your core and kisses you with reverent devotion.

Your body melts into the sheets feeling his tongue trace paths among your wet cunt.

Ezra firmly calls your name. It sounds like your soul is being brought back. Wearily you sit up to see him peering up at you between your legs. Slowly he lifts himself away from your cunt, his face glistening with your arousal.

Those obsidian eyes of his blazing in the candlelight lock you in their gaze. Keeping eye contact with you he suddenly spits down to your wet aching sex, and your mind spins.

It’s obscene, you should be disgusted and horrified. You even wonder if you’ve been transported to the brothel a few ways down the road. But it feels absolutely divine especially when he does it again.

“Oh she likes this.” Ezra coo’s then presses ever the softest kiss against your soaked throbbing pearl. “This pretty little cunt, my lovely lady, ache for me huh?”

You don’t argue with him. You don’t want to. He makes you come again and a creature raw and hungry awakens in you. You claw at him, now needing him inside.

It’s like a piece of yourself returns when Ezra slides into you. It’s hot, heavy, frantic but feels sacred.

Ezra must sense it too, because he doesn’t last long. When he spills over your tummy, his hands become claws and keep you caged in his grasp. Your con artist kisses every inch of you he can.

Sweaty and tangled in him, you still feel a tinge of sadness creep in.

“You left me.” You whimper against his lips.

“And it will haunt me until my dying breath.” Ezra sighs back, his voice weighing heavy. “I was planning to come back for you, my bird. But your mother…”

She had put a bounty out on your drifter, managed to get the sheriff on her side. You knew even in your anger at Ezra leaving, it was smart of him to escape.

His hand cradles your face, and his thumb strokes your cheekbone. Those endless eyes shimmer in the low light.

“But I’m here now, pidge.” Sincerity radiates from him.

You’re now able to bask in his beauty - his gorgeous jaw, his beautiful nose, the striking streak of blonde hair that has been hidden under his hat and you’ve been dying to see.

You nuzzle your face into his palm.

“What are you doing here? Truly?” You ask.

“I told you,” Ezra says, drawing your face towards him to kiss you tender again. “I’m here to try and prove myself victorious.”

You’re not sure you believe his words.

But you end up staying with him. Early morning, before the sun reaches over the desert, his fingers trace your face waking you up.

“Dawn bathes you in her glory.” He mutters. Embarrassed at his words you burrow your face into the pillow.

He doesn’t chase you, but instead lets his fingers draw aimless shapes against your shoulder.

“There wasn’t a day where you did not occupy my mind, even after all these years.” Ezra admits low, as if he didn’t realize those words escaped him.

Slowly you turn towards him and discover those deep eyes hazed over staring at you.

“I hate you.” You tell him without any malice. In fact an emotion something very opposite of hatred soaks your words.

“I know. I’d hate me too.” Ezra agrees muttering then leans down to kiss you gingerly.

You have to leave before the town wakes up, and to seal your alibi.

With a final kiss goodbye, you head to the tailor shop.

Julie finds you in the shop when she arrives and applauds you for your diligence and wanting to get a jump start on inventory. You’re thankful the lie worked out this way. You even manage to convince her to let you finish inventory the rest of the week. Of course she happily agrees.

Ezra drops by to pick up his riding gloves and winks at you shamelessly. You roll your eyes but hate how badly you fight against a grin.

The next few days are spent between the shop and the motel. You already brace your heart for Ezra’s departure approaching once the tournament is over, but you try not to face that.

“You’ve been in a rather good mood.” Your aunt notices when you stop by to drop off goods for her.

“Thought you hated inventory.” She comments.

“Guess not.” You reply with a shrug.

This blissful cloud you’re walking in however does cloud your mind. It makes you sloppy. Instead of taking the longer path to the motel, the one that kept you away from the views of the main road and town, you walk straight into town.

Running right into Duke Williams.

He says your name bright and clear. Dread dawns on you fast.

“Haven’t seen you ‘round. Heard Julie’s got ya working extra hard.” Duke smiles.

You hate this small town and the small whispers that spread like wildfire.

You reassure Duke you’re fine and are even glad you can help Julie.

All his friends, in their sleek cowboy hats, and dusty spurs, stand off to the side snicker. They crowd around each other like an ominous pack of wolves.

One of them even calls your name.

“Might wanna enjoy this freedom while it last!” He proclaims, and your stomach twists.

The other guys snickers, shushing him playfull, and even Duke turns around to reprimand him.

“What does he mean by that?” You cautiously question.

Duke simply waves the conversation off instead offering to walk you to the tailors.

You politely decline.

“Aw come on, sweet thing like you shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” Duke smiles but even with his sweet eyes you’re reminded of a crocodile now.

“Well gentleman, that’s why i’ll accompany this lovely bird to her destination.” Emerging from the shadows Ezra grins warm.

He must have come to find you after you hadn’t shown up at the motel.

The men including Duke go eerily silent. Ezra is older than Duke and the younger men. So he holds seniority now. But besides that, Duke now seems wary, and you don’t blame him. Ezra is a man that radiates a sort of unpredictable energy.

“You sure you don’t want me to walk ya back now?” You almost appreciate the slight genuine worry leaking into Duke’s voice. But shaking your head you move to walk with Ezra by your side.

You do hate how all eyes are on you, even walking away from Duke and his mindless followers.

“Just remain calm.” Ezra mutters.

You do especially with him by your side. By the time you open the tailors you thank Ezra, worried Duke and his men are still watching.

You whisper for him to meet you behind the shop, and he does. Your swindler willingly steps into the back room with you.

“Not my ideal choice for our evening, but I do love a good change of scenery.” Ezra comments amused browsing around the storage. Playfully, you throw a ball of yarn at him.

You’re surprised he even helps you with the small bit of inventory you do.

“That young buck…” until his voice comes out low. “He’s fond of you.”

“Unfortunately.” You reply back unamused.

“Earlier at the saloon…he was boasting.” Ezra continues with the same serious tone.

“About enjoying the last days of being an unmarried man.”

That causes you to pause.

“Must mean he’s gotten over me.” You sigh, thank goodness.

“No pidge…” Ezra stops to turn towards you. “He was proclaiming how you were to be his bride.”

Your stomach drops.

You think of the way the boys just now snickered almost knowingly, and that strange comment one of themselves said -

All of it makes your stomach sick, and you have to sit down.

No. There was just no way.

“I’d never accept his proposal.” You snap out hating how badly your body feels frantic, almost skittish like a cornered road runner.

Ezra kneels before you rubbing your hand with his, a strange solid comfort.

Eventually he gathers you into his arms and calms you with soothing soft words.

“We’ll figure out a solution.”

You still don’t know if you can trust his words. But that's all you have. Your drifter stays with you overnight in the tailor shop. You even feel sinful fucking him in the back room but it’s deliciously sinfull all the same.

Sitting and resting against the work desk you fade in and out of sleep. Tender fingers brush against your fingers, ghost like. Ezra is gone by the time you wake up and Julie’s entering the shop jolts you awake.

Her eyes are frazzled.

“Did you hear? Mister Johnston’s eldest son was shot down early this morning.”

You hadn’t heard. Dread fills you fast when you realize Johnston's boy was the one who had made the joking comment to you last night.

There’s talk about postponing the competition. But others in town, especially Duke, argue to continue the tradition in a way to honor the fallen young man.

An ominous terror looms in you.

Later that night, you return to the motel. Too many thoughts swarm in your head, and Ezra even seems distant. He even slides his duster jacket one before kissing you.

“I have some personal matters to attend to, pidge. Get some respite here.”

His boots echo down the hall and then down the stairs.

You can’t sleep. So you move to slide open the window and let some of the night air in.

The faint mutter of discussion very close outside in the alleyway floats into the room.

It’s muffled at first, but once you step closer and concentrate, you pick up the very familiar cadence of a certain drifter.

“No no, I have it covered. As long as you make sure to double the bets on me tomorrow.” Ezra explains in a hush.

The others with him explain the different amounts they’ve collected, and it hits you.

He’s gambling on the competition.

That’s why he’s here.

You knew the men at the saloon often bet, but this feels heavier.

A new clicking of spurs arrives.

“Y’know, you fellas look like a dangerous bunch all here hidden in the shadows.” Duke.

Panic prickles all over your body.

“Now young buck, we’re just here partaking in a fun and friendly wager.” Ezra with his smooth talking skills deflates the tension easily.

“Waggerin’ on what?” You’re surprised Duke immediately quickly jumps in to gamble.

Ezra and the other men begin conspiring on how to make sure Duke wins to favor the odds of their bets.

“I like the sound of that.” Duke grins.

He makes a hefty wager on himself to win, the price even makes someone whistle.

They offer to place their wagers on him as well and with Ezra even in the competition, he’s argued to be an even better reassurance that the outcome falls in their favor.

Ezra even swears by this.

They’re fixing the match, going to cheat. You don’t know how to feel about any of this.

They end their discussion, and you quietly slide back into bed. Before long Ezra returns, the smell of tobacco and the cold air lingers in the room.

His fingers dance against your shoulders while your back stays to him.

“You’re only here… to make money, and cheat.” You mutter hollow.

His fingers stop.

“You overheard.”

You don’t reply to him. Ezra sighs.

“Indeed I am. But I’m no different than the gentlemen that place simple wagers on a game of horseshoe.” He explains low, under the whisper of the candle flicker.

“But it’s like you’re wanting to play with a weighted or lighter horseshoe.” You argue back.

“Is it not in our best natures to make sure Lady Luck favors us by any means possible?”

You don’t know how to reply to him.

“…I’m doing this for you, for us.” He adds.

You turn to him, your face scrunching up in fury.

“Bullshit.” You tell him.

“Believe me a liar, but I’m honest in my endeavor.” His face becomes a firm steeled frown.

You can’t look at him anymore, turning your back again to Erza in bed.

“My hope was to gain enough funds to pay for the bounty your mother placed on me, return for your hand, and make our way into a new life together.” His voice is steady.

“Unless you wish to stay here and wed that Duke.” He offers.

You whip back to glare harsh at Ezra.

There’s a silence heavy and ancient like the desert that settles between you. But it doesn’t last long before Ezra leans down and sweeps in to capture your lips

The discussion dies immediately as passion burns in its place.

You don’t think of gambling cowboys, or of your mysterious drifter, only of the moment consuming you now, and you almost pray you never leave it.

- ☾𖤓 -

Late in the night, wearily half sleep, the bed shifting jolts you awake, and you even hear the door creak open. Before you can ask Ezra if he’s alright, your eyes so sleepy flutter close for a moment. Then he’s sliding back into the warmth pulling you close into his arms. You fall right back to your dreams.

In the early hours of the morning, Ezra kisses your jaw.

“My lucky charm, are you going to observe our tournament today?” He mutters.

The competition was today.

“You nervous?” You had never seen him ride much less try ranch hand work.

“Never.” He says smoothly.

Eventually he slides out of bed and lets you get ready. But soon Ezra walks over and places something in your hands.

The pistol weighs heavy, cold. And your eyes snap open wide now fully awake.

“Why-”

He cuts you off gently. “You know how to fire, yes?”

You nod weakly.

A small smirk tugs at his handsome lips. “Figured as much, after seeing your mother.”

It’s an attempt to tease, but too much terror bubbles in you.

“I just need to know you’re protected.” Ezra reveals, but with a croak you ask why.

“Cause unfortunate as it might be, it’s even more dangerous for a criminal like me to cherish something.”

Your eyes water. There are too many questions in your head, but the day will be starting soon. You need to leave before you’re spotted.

“Tell me you have another gun.” You snap at him.

Ezra simply taps the side of his head. “Don’t need another firearm when I have this weapon.”

You angrily throw the pistol down back to the bed, refusing to take it. That’s when he snaps your name, hard and serious.

You’ve never heard his voice raise like that.

“Take it.” He grabs the firearm and hands it back to you. His midnight eyes are ominously serious with no room for argument.

His hand grabs your face firm in his hand. Your eyes search his endless midnight lake eyes.

“I call you pidge, my little pigeon bird. But I’ve known right from the start you’re a fierce creature. Don’t ever forget that.”

Ezra’s words are beautiful but barbed. They rip up tracks in your heart. He kisses you quick, fierce and short. You hate how it feels like a goodbye.

With shaking hands and confusion, you slide the gun into your satchel. You walk back to your aunt's cabin in a daze. So much so that you barely notice she’s already awake when you sneak back in.

“You have fun at the motel again?” She asks, and fear freezes you.

“I wasn’t-”

“Mac, your uncle’s good friend, gave me the heads up.” She cuts you off softly.

Mac, the innkeeper. God damn this small town. Venom, anger, indignation, they all swirl violently in you.

“Whatever you’re doing there, you’re only gonna find danger.” She says somber, and you stay quiet.

Your aunt sighs.

“You’re lucky this hasn’t gotten out yet. What would young Duke say if he found out?”

Frustration bursts in you, and you snap furious about why would you even need to care about that man’s opinion of you.

“Because he plans on weddin’ you, and I plan on letting him.” Your aunt fires back and her words shoot right through you.

Your legs feel like they’re about to give out, even have to steady yourself against the nearby chair.

You thought your aunt understood. She’s been alone, a widow since she was around your age, longer than your mother had been a widow. You thought she’d never fall into the trap of forcing marriage.

“It’s for your own good.” She argues, watery urgent m. “You need protection, a home, a husband to provide for you.”

You rush out of the house even ignoring the screams from your aunt.

You’d have to think of a plan fast. Maybe leave with Ezra once the competition ends today. It’s all too much. You swallow back a sob and walk back into town.

The competition was today after all.

The day at the shop is very short. Julie doesn’t even notice your somber atmosphere as she’s completely caught up in the excitement of this day. So many more wagons stretch around the edge of town.

Pecos flutters alive with life.

But there’s already commotion, a dangerous kind that chokes the competition tense.

Duke yells loud and furious. The sheriff along with his deputies are nearby. Thankfully you spot Martha and quickly move to ask her what’s going on.

“Duke’s horse is missing.” She whispers.

From what Martha says, when Duke went to the stables this morning the gate was open and his horse was nowhere to be seen. His trusty companion, you even knew how serious an issue this is.

“Well young buck, if you’re that upset then maybe you shouldn’t partake in the festivities.” Ezra, out of thin air, offers.

He looks confident as he strolls up.

“Or you simply ride with another mare?” He proposes with a coy optimism.

“Fuck you!” Duke snaps at Ezra and even looks as if he’s going to lunge.

Your heart hammers hard in your chest. Thankfully the sheriff settles the commotion down.

Angered but stubborn, Duke declares he’s staying to compete and will simply use another horse. He is favored to win after all.

Other cowboys from out of town have blown in like packs of tumbleweed. So many of them are excited to participate and try their hand at showing off their rancher skills

Some are good.

But it is Ezra who proves to be the dark horse, the surprise underdog.

Watching him on his stallion, your throat goes dry seeing how effortless and strong he manages his horse. You never knew he could ride. The way he maneuvers and stays a quiet presence, he reminds you of an outlaw.

“Moves like a bandit.” Someone in the crowd even whispers.

His rope throwing skills however surprise everyone, including yourself. The calf he manages to wrangle takes you by shock. A dangerous lust slithers over your body watching him wrangle the animal with his strength and sturdy form.

But you realize -

This wasn’t what had been planned. From the discussion given last night, Ezra was meant to perform poorly to make sure Duke did better.

But this is exactly the opposite.

He’s the lead runner for champion of the competition.

And then Duke’s turn arrives. The crowd mummers curious, on edge waiting for the favored cowboy to make his move.

The horse he uses is not cooperative. Duke screams, unable to hide his frustration in wrangling the creature.

But once he stabilizes a manageable ride, he goes to lasso the calf. His rope lands and the crowd cheers. He’s already faster than Ezra.

Until the frayed rope snaps and the calf yanks itself free.

The crowd gasps.

It’s not an immediate disqualification, but it doesn’t look good. Duke argues that his rope was frayed and that someone must have slowly started cutting at it. However it’s a long shot argument. There’s no way to prove that and even the sheriff seems a little wary of the accusation.

“That’s just the way rope is son, you just gotta keep an eye on it.”

Duke screams in anguish canyon splitting anger. You’ve never once seen him like this. It’s like it’s a whole new man, or maybe, his true self being revealed.

He’s offered another rope, but it’s almost horrifying to watch that one as well snap. The crowd again gasps.

This wasn’t the outcome meant to happen.

“Duke’s cursed.” Someone mumbles.

The crowd is in disbelief, you even are. The last remaining competitors try their luck, but none can beat Ezra’s speed.

You can’t believe it. But he won.

And Duke is livid. The crowd tentatively applauds Ezra’s win because of the somber mood clashing.

“You bastard! You goddamn cheated!” Duke screams at Ezra while the deputies try settling him down.

“Poor boy,” Ezra says sympathetically before turning to find you in the crowd.

There’s a gleam of something proud shimmering in his dark eyes.

You don’t question it, don’t want to.

Ezra truly is a man of many facets, dangerous ones, like looking at a raw gemstone that could cut your fingers.

The competition spills into the nearby saloons, and the festivities only seem to intensify as the sun starts setting. You can’t even reach Ezra from the groups swirling around him and want to get as far away from Duke as possible.

So you return back to the tailor shop. Julie urges you to join her and the other women at the mayor’s large property, but you decline.

You simply sit in the store trying to muster up a plan. But in a blink, the night arrives and you have to find Ezra.

So after locking up the shop, you head to the motel.

Until the sound of Duke’s screaming and the rage of violence roars nearby.

You freeze, terrified.

Until someone wearily coughs. “That’s what ya get for gamblin’ with bandits, boy.”

Your swindler’s distinct twang drawls smug and now your body rushes to the secluded alleyway.

You swallow back a scream at the sight you stumble upon. Duke with blood fists has Ezra pinned against the wall, like a mythological creature, terrifying and large looking over with violence in his wake.

Ezra’s face is bloody and one of his arms even hangs limp.

“Pidge.” He coughs, and your heart aches.

Duke whips around to see you and barks for you to leave.

Shakily you snatch down to your bag, and whip out the gun to point it to him. Duke’s face falls a bit confused.

“Honey this man wronged me, I’m only enacting my justice.” He argues.

You snap at him to let Ezra go or else.

That’s when a sinister evil darkens Duke’s golden boy face.

“So, ya little god damn whore…you’re workin’ with this man aren’t ya? I knew I should’ve listened to all the rumors about a slut like you.” He spits with venom leaking from his voice.

“Don’t you touch her.” Ezra snarls, but Duke pays him no mind keeping his sinister eyes on you.

“What?” Duke slowly mutters. “Do ya really think you’re gonna shoot me?”

Tears fill your eyes. You don’t want to, but the way your heart races like a terrified Jack rabbit it screams at you to flee. But… you also wonder if your heart races because it’s urging you to attack, to bare your fangs.

Instead of releasing Ezra, Duke moves to grip his coat harder. He slams your drifter hard and fast against the wall. A painful crack-like smack comes, and you scream.

You fire the gun instantly.

Duke blinks, you even wonder if you landed a hit.

Until deep dark crimson, almost the color of dark sludge, leaks across Duke’s side. He crumbles like a fall leaf.

You cry scrambling to Ezra who thankfully is still standing. Duke wheezes out obscenities and even tries hollering for help. You’re however too worried about Ezra.

“M’fine,” your drifter reassures with a wheeze.

“Hand me the gun, dearest.” Ezra somberly mutters. When you do, without hesitation Ezra fires the gun point black down at Duke. And your eyes shut hearing the pistol strike. Duke goes quiet and stays silent.

“Come on, we gotta hurry.” Ezra urges.

Supporting his body, you manage to get him into the tailor shop to tend to his wounds.

Ezra coughs out your name. “M’dearest, I need to make my escape out of town once more.” His breathing his heaved, he needs to rest.

“Don’t leave me.” You cry sharp, unable to focus on anything now.

His hand slides to your face and he cradles you tenderly. You clutch at his wrist as you blink back tears starting at him now.

“It will not be a pleasant life, staying with a devil like me.” He mumbles.

Doesn't he realize, you’re just as tarnished as him now? Blood is on your hands. You simply turn to kiss the palm of his hand feeling more reassured than ever.

“I’d rather be with the devil than live without him.” You speak soft into his skin while tears dry on your cheeks.

He barks a hollow but watery thick laugh as he says your name. “You foolish bird, my lovely dangerous creature.”

The desert is unforgiving to those who do now learn to grow fangs or become just as fierce as its landscape. You wonder if that’s what has become of you. But you don’t question it. You simply gather all you can, steal one of the horses from the saloon and keep Ezra close to you on the saddle.

If Ezra is a devil, then you’re grateful he saved you from your hell. And for him, you will gladly stain your soul.

Under the eternal eyes of the desert, you wander into the night keeping your bandit close to you.

In the distance a lone coyote howls aching at the moon.

You don’t look back once.

[deusvervewrites]

Aldera Uraraka AU x Problem Children AU x All For Support AU: Midoriya went to get the necessary supplies to make candy apples for Eri for the School Festival. He even decided to help Uraraka out by getting Class 1-A some rope that they needed.

Gentle Criminal: Behold the dawning of a daring knave's journey!! Keep your dazzled eyes on your screen, for it is I, your savior and gentleman scoundrel...Gentle Criminal!!

Midoriya: Oh, son of a-

No escape

[stylespresleyhearted]

‼️ MARINA IG POST NOTIFICATION ‼️

liked by austinbutler, tmznews, perezhilton, and 1,382,632 others

arcticbree its 2024, get with the vibes 🤟🏻

view all comments

anthonyboyle are you and cal trynna tell us something? 😉

keoghan92 all love ❤️

alexachung love I think you’ve broken the internet

fan23 as a member of the community thank you for always taking a stand and an advocate! ❤️💙💜💚💛🧡

fan21 lol i think she’s trynna tell us something

fan33 no if her and callum were in a throuple we’d know

vanessakirby Iconic

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arcticupdates via Deuxmoi’s Sunday Spotted stories today

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——————-

LMAO @precious-little-scoundrel i’m supposed to be finishing my works cited page right now but inspiration was strong AND I JUST HAD TO DON’T KILL ME! want to keep my mommy full of inspiration and thots

if you’re reading this confused, just enjoy, it’s something that may be soon to come courtesy of our savior Marina! (and nobody judge me for Bree, blame Marina for that too)

[skyedancer-rae]

Drawn for BaroRyuu Week 2023, Day 5: Savior.

I had to draw Barok swooping in to save Ryunosuke from some scoundrels, posing as the hero of a romance novel in the process.

I wanted to draw a second piece with Ryunosuke defending Barok during his trial, but ended up not having the time.

[archivalofsins]

In a funnier turn of events after getting that Mikoto post out I am feeling more comfortable discussing his character. It was really bugging me that I was perceiving the fandom as an unsafe space to discuss plurality on a two alter system basis. It never seemed appropriate to gush about it given the things I'd been shown being said.

Yet, I was really happy with Double and the Neoplasm voice drama. Because it showed how diverse dissociative identity disorder can be with just two alters. Instead of just doing the same old hi I'm the totally good one and I'd never hurt a fly and I'm sin incarnate sometimes I just do bad shit for the lols you know.

The thing that most media does when discussing that presentation. I don't know how to really tackle my own feelings on it. It's like most my life I grew up seeing it represented as oh no, the evil one is out. As though the person had been possessed almost. So, it was very refreshing to see it be like, "Oh well, they're both just people. No one is as simple as just good or bad. They both have a variety of behavior."

It's something that should by now rightfully be expected when it comes to that sort of representation of it. Yet when it comes to two people always focus on the duality. The light and the dark the good and the evil. They try to separate all nice in neat like that without really focusing on the individuals. So, I was ultimately really pleased by Milgram. Though it could be because I'm more on the older side or just I gave up on looking for good representation and started avoiding anything thar covered it in middle school.

Honestly, I still avoid things that deal with it outside of Milgram. Simply out of habit of thinking, man, is it gonna be this shit again? How do I know it's not that shit again? Oh well, you gotta watch it, of course. I'm not doing that. I don't trust it. Yet with Double, there were just so many great things about it that really made me go.

Yeah, they get it. This is actually great. I couod harp on the lyrics all day.

Like favorite lines were,

1. That'd be good.

With the lyrics before it and how it's enunciated with so much longing paired with the visuals of him wiping the blood to look down into the other end of the train. It really fucking goes hard as a line. Really embodying the whole come on praise me for helping you I did good right I saved you right so hey where's my thank you it'd be good if you said it energy.

2. Doesn't matter if you didn't wish for it, can't get rid of me now. Just the two of us, relieved, aren't you? I'll protect you (us).

Just the enunciation the growl. It's just really good as if going oh you want to push me down well I'm not going anywhere.

3. "He's a liar," you said and made me out to be a scoundrel, why?

The fucking double meaning if this one line is just so got damn amazing. It's not only calling back to the ridiculous accusations lines in Double but discussing the audiences response to Mikoto. Calling him a liar claiming he was faking. But the second half is referring to the audiences reaction to John making him out to be a scoundrel immediately blaming the murders on him. Labeling him as the bad one without even a second thought. Only leaving him to ask why? Putting more meaning behind the line

4. Hey, I just wanted to save you, so why did it come to this? Cling to me hoist me up as your savior stand up and sing out your gratitude- So, why?

As though Mikoto is their asking why is your song like this you should be praising me. You should be grateful so why?

5. I don't remember a thing it couldn't be helped I'm Double (MeMe).

This line is super great because it's like John and Mikoto both claiming onus of their own songs. And John answering Mikoto's question about why his song is like this. Basically going it couldn't be helped I'm Double. Basically saying it was bound to turn out like this because I'm like this.

6. Why, why? If only I were never born, if only-

To me, this came off as John going. If only I had never been born at all, then neither of us would have existed, and this wouldn't have happened. Expanding on the idea that Es and Kotoko both bring up that his existence is the problem. Which most wouldn't immediately go they mean because of my disorder but go yeah fuck it you're right if I never even lived to begin with this wouldn't have happened. I wouldn't even be here for this to happen and then the apology after these lines as if apologizing for having been born at its sooo good.

It has no right to be sooooo good. So, yes despite the incredible detriment that this week has been to my mental health and my anxiety literally being on a fucking hundred. Double has been the best fucking thing to ever happen to me personally. And it's so fucking amazing.

I love it so much.

[grumpymiika]

♡ TW: Yandere, dark content, kidnapping

♡ Chapter 1 - The Illusion of Love

Among the rubble, on a cloudy night, she crawls. Seeking comfort, something far from all the turmoil and chaos she found herself in.

Shards pierce her skin, leaving evident marks on her soft skin, probably a scar for life. Even with the shards, she doesn’t give up and continues to fight for her life.

Sirens ring in her ears. She couldn’t think of anything, even with the potential help, nothing could pull her from the agonizing fear of death.

And that’s how she would meet him. He was a paramedic, and he saved her on the night of the accident.

Their eyes met for the first time. Was it love at first sight? She wouldn’t know how to say. Perhaps the fear of death brought feelings that shouldn’t exist. He quickly, along with his team, pulled her from beneath the remains of her beloved old car. Unfortunately, her father, who was also in the car, didn’t survive. His injuries were fatal, especially since he was behind the wheel.

Maybe the whole situation helped, after all. She was in her most fragile state, and he emerged as her savior.

Months later, the two were together. And how did that happen? Well... it’s a long story. Since she was rescued, this man never left her side; he was the one who saved her life. Perhaps that was the only thing she should be grateful to him for, as she hardly knew the direction this tragic encounter would take.

At her father’s funeral, the man showed up. An unexpected situation, but it warmed her heart.

"Hello. Good to see you doing so well."

"Oh... Hello..." She paused for a moment, searching for words that wouldn’t reveal her surprise.

"By the way, in case you don’t remember, I’m William."

William was his name. A name almost too old for him, but certainly ideal for a guy like him. He was too sweet, to the point of being sickening, like eating too many chocolates at once: it would bring an inexplicable feeling of joy, but as soon as you ate too much, you’d feel nauseous and want to spit it out.

At first, William’s constant presence in her life brought happiness and comfort. Having your savior as a friend sounds incredible, doesn’t it? Well... it was amazing until he showed his true intentions.

William was the type who always brought flowers and chocolates. It was a surprise when she happened to find him at a café, carrying a bouquet of daisies and a heart-shaped box full of chocolates. Of course, suspicion arose—who would bring such things to a café? Well, she was too caught up in his charm to think too much about it.

At her home, now filled with flowers, there was no room without the presence of blooms. Deep red roses, yellow daisies, and cyclamens... Ah, the smell. So sweet, just like him. But, just like the petals, all that sweetness would wilt and turn into something rotten.

Wilted petals, that was her love. Who would suspect someone so "sweet"? Well, not even she was able to notice his masked actions. What a shame.

As the beginning of this romantically sweet story unfolds, on a cloudy night, she runs through the woods. Pleasant sounds could be heard: cicadas crying, the rustling of trees, hurried footsteps on the ground... It would be ephemeral in different circumstances; there was no way such a cruel situation could be seen as anything other than a disaster.

As she ran, she thought about how she ended up like this. What went wrong? Ah... him, that scoundrel. How could she be so foolish as to really think he would take her to another city for an outing? Thinking back, maybe he really was in another city, as she didn’t remember such a forest in her hometown. No time to lose; she must keep running.

The gentle breeze brushed against her face, the smell of nature enveloped her senses, and the sound of other footsteps could be heard along with shouting: "Please come back! I swear I’ll be better." Damn, it was him. Out of breath, she hid behind a tree. A terrible hiding place, but she prayed it would be a good spot, at least until she could think of a way to escape.

What was that? A rock? Good!

The man, or rather, the panting and desperate creature, was approaching. He probably saw her, as he began to slowly approach the tree with steady steps. He whispered, "Don’t make things worse. I don’t want to hurt you."

Without hesitating, she turned and threw the large rock at William. He stumbled back, and a soft grunt escaped his dry lips. "Bitch..." he murmured. It didn’t take long for the two to start running. Damn, damn! She couldn’t hit him in the head, and he remained standing, now filled with rage.

She ran aimlessly forward, hoping to find someone who could help her, while he chased after her, almost catching up. Eventually, cries for help escaped her lips. Her screams caused an intoxicating sensation in William, one he didn’t fully understand. He craved for her to scream more, to plead for her life and beg for forgiveness. Perhaps that would calm his soul, and maybe he would forgive her for hitting him.

William threw himself forward, falling on top of her. They were both on the ground. She tried to push him off, hitting and shoving, but nothing worked. Already irritated with the situation, he got up, grabbed her by the legs, and dragged her to the cabin where he would keep her safe from the world.

"Let me go! Please..." she screamed, hoping for mercy from William. "It’s for your own good, my dear. Now behave," he said in a threatening tone, almost as if ordering her to shut up. She was taken to the cabin, and there she discovered what hell was like.

It had wooden walls, a mattress, and a fireplace. Being handcuffed near the fireplace was uncomfortable. She felt as if she was becoming one with the wall. William walked in circles, murmuring things like: "I love you so much," "it’s for your own good," which didn’t help her mood. She was going crazy.

How does this tragic story continue?

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Tag Game: OC Interaction

Thank you to @willtheweaver and @illarian-rambling for the tags here and here!

Willtheweaver's OC: Gale blew in on the winds, a jay from far west of the forest in search of a new home. His sudden arrival and unique appearance made him the subject of ridicule and suspicion from many of the native birds. As a result, he never set up roots for fear of being attacked, and his cheerful, optimistic nature became buried under layers of paranoia and cynicism. One particularly vicious attack could have ended him, but luck came in the form of Lady Grey. Rescued and nursed back to health, Gale swore loyalty to his savior who allowed him a place to live. The change in fortune has brought back flashes of his old self, although it will still be some time before he recovers fully from the trauma.

Katie's OC: Avymere Kalaphon Spearsong III is a 153 year old elf and Duchon (gender neutral equivalent of Duke/Duchess) of the city of Salis. They act as a spy and political agent for their father, Archduke Eluan Spearsong, who rules Salis. They also keep watch for assassins, on top of playing the perfect, if ditzy, heir in front of the court. They tend to keep up a happy-go-lucky facade in order to disguise their true cunning and because of this, are very reluctant to let their true personality show, to the point that they've sort of lost who they are. The one thing they embrace with their full, honest heart is martial arts. Though it's seen as a lowly habit that the court indulges on account of the Duchon's 'airheadedness,' they really do love to practice Talmel Valkys and are quite the fighter. It's where they feel they can drop any acts they have up. Apart from that, they have a hard time socializing outside of situations they're not used to and get easily flustered when they don't hold all the cards, as they don't actually have much experience outside of the highest echelon of Salis society. Though well meaning, they also tend to come off as aloof and unaware of the problems of the common man, even though they truly believe that they are a servant of the people they rule.

My OC: Draven Cozenson is a sarcastic human gunslinger who hails from the eastern continent on Valaria. He has black hair, dark eyes, and is rarely encountered without his pistols close at hand. He's spent the last decade hunting down lycanthropes and building a reputation as the kind of man who would do just about anything for money, the definition of the scoundrel with a hidden heart of gold archetype. Despite his infamous reputation, he has a moral code for the kinds of jobs he will and will not take, mainly being that he doesn't hunt down normal humans or elves, only lycanthropes, and he won't hurt kids. He's well aware of his reputation and how others---especially the Zariyan nobility---view him, and occasionally leans into the role of the rugged, uncouth, bloodthirsty hunter if it poses an advantage in a situation (such as if he thinks it'll get him paid more for a job). He holds a slight disdain for members of the nobility, especially a certain lord who employs him. While he sometimes works alone, he is typically found with an elven skinwalker by the name of Octavian de Silv.

----------

Draven and Gale: He wouldn't be too bothered by the presence of a sentient, talking bird, all he'd really care about is whether or not said bird is a threat. Due to working with a shapeshifter and his own experiences hunting down lycanthropes, a talking bird isn't too far out of the spectrum of possibility. With that out of the way, I think they'd be pretty neutral towards each other. Draven would be mildly curious about the kind of life a sentient bird would live, and sympathetic towards Gale's past should he chose to reveal it. Gale might be interested to hear about some of Draven's experiences

Draven and Avymere: This interaction would be pretty interesting. Draven would absolutely fall for their facade at first, as he wouldn't have reason to think otherwise of them unless tipped off in some way. The discovery that they practice martial arts would be his first clue that they aren't all that they appear to be, and it would pique his curiosity. Since Draven also has a habit of mouthing off to nobility, he might throw Avymere off their game pretty quickly on accident. If he ever found out about their true role, his respect for them would immediately grow, but he wouldn't let the revelation change his outward attitude. He has a reputation to uphold, after all, and so do they.

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Gently tagging @thewritingautisticat @chronicallydragons @thethistlegirlwrites @stargazer-luna @scaewolf and open tag! :D

[fanfoolishness]

Jedi: Fallen Order musings

Ahhh I finished the game! I suppose I don't really need to put spoiler tags for it, since it's several years old. But it was highly enjoyable and I loved it!

I love how much games are embracing character work these days. I expect it from Bioware, of course, but seeing it from EA and a major property like Star Wars is still really refreshing. I should have guessed that a story set just a few years after Order 66 about a young Jedi would be full of trauma, but I wasn't expecting it to be as in-depth and sensitive as it was. Trauma colors everything in this story, from Cal's wounded connection to the Force, to Cere cutting herself off from it entirely, to Merrin's fear and grief. Even BD-1 grieves his old friend and master and Greez still misses his great-grandmother.

I've seen a few articles about how Cal seemed like a flat or boring character, but I didn't get that at all. He's an 18-year-old young man whose childhood was obliterated by war, who's so afraid of his past and his power that he hasn't tried to leave Bracca in 5 years. He's so guarded at first, because he's had to be. He's slow to trust Cere and Greez, and that trust is broken when he learns what happened to Cere's Padawan. In his youth he reacts like many of us would -- arrogantly and self-righteously -- but it all flows from the deep scars he carries and is so afraid to face from losing his own Master. Fear leads to anger, of course.

He's afraid of trusting again, afraid of being hurt again, so afraid that it isn't until 3/4 of the way through the game that he finally bears to revisit the memories again from Order 66. Facing that loss, and that guilt for not being able to save his master, incapacitates him so badly that a Force vision shatters his lightsaber. (The game remembers it, too, and the animation of Cal reaching out of habit for his lightsaber and realizing it's broken every time you try to use it is heartbreaking.) When he goes to Ilum to try to forge a new lightsaber, he can't help but remember when he came here as a Padawan. BD-1 checks in on him and Cal tells him, no, he's not okay, it's hard for him to be there. The kid is just a massive ball of pain and trauma and watching him slowly unravel that and move forward through the course of the game is a powerful journey. No personality, my ass, LOL.

And Cere's journey! Her grief is far more complex than Cal's because she bears more guilt, and she was a fully fledged Jedi who thought she could keep others safe, and she failed. Fear and anger rule her, too, but despite that she's stubborn as hell, holding onto hope through everything. Her grief and suffering are revealed slowly and carefully through the game, and seeing the way she starts to heal by mentoring Cal is beautiful. When he falls down, she picks him up, even when he distrusts her -- and when she falls, too, he echoes her teaching back to her and helps her rise. Seeing her recovery of her confidence, her skills, her trust in herself -- ahh I'm tearing up again thinking about it. Also, she is fucking badass with a lightsaber!!!

I'm really excited to see what happens with Merrin in Jedi: Survivor (no spoilers, please!). Can't believe a Jedi and a Nightsister could find common ground, but "I'm the last of my kind" is a trauma bond like no other! I love her weird unsettling energy and the fact that she teases Greez and that when she had a choice to stay in the graveyard of her people and the past or strike out into the unknown, she chose to go.

... Reminds me, I still gotta go find all the seeds for Greez's terrarium. How else will he have the best space garden if not for me? Love him too. I'm always a sucker for gruff scoundrel accidentally catches family feels, and he's no exception.

And BD-1. My buddy, my friend, my savior, my companion. I loved Cal able to warm up and be relaxed with BD, and I loved BD's absolute helpfulness and sweet little noises. If anything happens to him I WILL kill everyone and then myself. ... same goes for Cal, in the end...

Note, I am hoping that whatever happens to Cal and BD, that it's hopeful. Jedi have a nasty habit of all dying out by A New Hope, but uh... maybe Cal will be different! We can hope!!! ;_; Well, we're just not gonna think about that.

I liked the ending. The further we kept going I started agreeing with Merrin and thinking "is this holocron such a good thing to have?" Cal's vision of the Padawans being tortured and himself as an Inquisitor, and the wisdom from the Zeffo sages bemoaning their hubris and the extinction they faced, certainly made it seem like trying to rebuild the Order wasn't the right choice, at least for now. As Cordova said, failure is part of the journey. Honestly a hopeful life lesson and one I need to remember when things don't come out as planned or hoped.

Also. How about Darth Vader just DESTROYING you? I had to look up how to get away because I just kept insta-dying with the Force choke XD The ONLY way to have him duel you is to just show instantly that you are NOWHERE NEAR HIS LEVEL! Dude didn't even get a health bar ahahahahah it was hopeless XD

Other scattered thoughts: with the exception of the Wookiees (sorry, hair technology just wasn't far enough along yet for them), the graphics were gorgeous. I loved exploring the different areas, especially as I gained more skills and abilities, and collecting creature logs and Force echoes. Cal's psychometry skill is very, very cool and I loved it. And I adored the Origin Tree! WOW! Did anyone else get a King's Quest vibe from it? I mean, come on!

In the meantime, where's my Fallen Order people to yell at? I haven't played more than 20 minutes of Survivor so all I can say about that is Cal's new beard and TATTOO are pretty great, though I miss my poncho ;_; but if anyone wants to yell about the first game with me, I'm here!

[greenconverses]

Recently read: We’re out of February, but I still have plenty of romances on my shelves to get to. The rest of March might have a little more variety in genres since I’m trying to make my to-be-read pile a tinnnnny bit smaller. (We’ll see how that goes.) 

Gave Stacy Reid another shot with Her Wicked Marquess, which was better than A Scoundrel of Her Own plot and character-wise. Unfortunately, Stacy really likes adjectives - like, a lot - so I don’t know how many more books I’ll stick with her since it’s one of my style pet peeves. I think I’ll at least finish this trilogy though. (���★★)

Exes & O’s by Amy Lea is the super cute sequel to Set On You, one of my surprise favorites from last year. I enjoy this one a lot too; solid slow burn, idiots to lovers with fun plot about chasing second chance romances. Would recommend if you need something fluffy to brighten your day! (★★★★.75)

Took a brief detour to YA land for Emma Lord’s third book, When You Get The Chance. I still think Tweet Cute is her best book, but Emma really shines when she gets to write about complex family issues and this book has it. Theater nerds (of which I am not) will probably relate a lot to Millie’s character and her ambitions. (★★★★)

The way I had to stop myself from running to the bookstore after reading A Reckless Match so I could get the next two in the series HURT y’all. (Still waiting because payday isn’t until Friday and I’ve already made my credit cards very sad this month.) I fell in love with Kate Bateman’s style and the premise of this book immediately. Childhood brats to adult lovers done SO WELL, ugh. I have to have more of it. (★★★★★)

Did you know our lord and saviors Ilona Andrews is writing new novellas in the Kate Daniels ‘verse? BECAUSE THEY ARE and Magic Tides was just what I needed to have a good time. Just keep giving me more of Kate and Curran trying to keep a low profile in the suburbs and totally blowing it because they’re them. It’s perfection. This will totally tide me over until we get a new Hugh or Aurelia book. (★★★★★)

[marvelfilth]

I'm glad I was accurate, and making you swoon was a plus ☺️

Out of curiosity, if you feel like it, I wanna know what you think best fits me. I know you don't know much about Dungeons and Dragons, so I'll give you some descriptions from DNDBeyond plus a wacky ass description from me cause I'm feeling funny.

-Barbarian: "A fierce warrior who can enter a battle rage" Aka a muscle mommy with slight anger issues

-Bard: "An inspiring magician whose power echoes the music of creation." Aka a person who is always getting themselves into trouble, yet by some miracle always makes it out alive. P.S. keep them away from Dragons...

-Cleric: "A priestly champion who weilds divine magic in service of a higher power" Aka the guy that's like "do you have time to talk about out lord and savior Jesus Christ", but it's not Jesus Christ just some deadbeat god of theirs.

-Druid: "A priest of the old faith, weilding the powers of nature and adopting animal forms, " Aka your friendly neighborhood down to earth hippie

-Fighter: "A master of martial combat, skilled with a variety of weapons and armor" Aka the basic bitch in Dnd. People like to pick them cause they have a variety of skills.

-Monk: "A master of martial arts, harnessing the power of the body in pursuit of physical and spiritual perfection." Aka Aang in Avatar the last airbender

-Paladin: "A holy warrior bound to a sacred oath." Aka the loyal one with the fanciest armor.

-Ranger: "A warrior who combats threats on the edges of civilization" Aka a pretty badass loner with a bow

-Rouge: "A scoundrel who uses stealth and trickery to overcome obstacles and enemies" Aka sneaky sneaky stabby stabby

-Sorcerer: "A spellcaster who draws on inherent magic from a gift or bloodline" Aka the lucky bastared that didn't have to train to get their magic

-Warlock: "A wielder of magic that is derived from a bargain with an extraplanar entity." Aka *insert Mike Tyson saying "sign the contract big boy"*

-🪓

At first I was like "definitely a fighter" but then i got to the part where you called them a basic bitch, so i changed my mind 😭

Honestly, i feel like you're a mix of:

druid (10%), cause you seem like a friendly neighbourhood who would turn into an animal if you could 😭

fighter (30%), "master of martial combat, skilled with a variety of weapons and armor" literally you

rouge (15%), i feel like you could be sneaky-stabby, but only if you're pushed to the limit, not your default setting

monk (30%), "a master of martial arts, harnessing the power of the body in pursuit of physical and spiritual perfection" again, literally you

paladin (15%), "a holy warrior bound to a sacred oath" i feel like that also could be your thing, like a higher purpose you'd die for or something (protecting your so (excl bugs))

How did I do? Somewhat accurate, I hope

[viatrixtravels-a]

"Uh..." Xiao appeared without a warning in front of Lumine and Paimon. After all, it was a matter of utmost importance. "There was a weasel thief who was stealing things...... I found this on him." He held out Paimon's hair piece and Inteyvat that Lumine usually adorned in her hair. - @ask-xiao-official

"Oh! These are...!"

"My hair pin...!! Xiao, you are Paimon's savior! I could just kiss you right now, hehe~"

Actually, why not? The Pixie flew over to grab her hair accessory and planted a big smooch on his cheek while she was at it.

"Thank you, Xiao." The blonde added, taking her flower before carefully putting it back in her hair. "Paimon and I run into that sneaky thief earlier and we failed to catch him. I guess he tried to steal from you too, huh?"

"We should cook that scoundrel...!! I have no idea if Weasel meat is any good but Paimon won't forgive him!"

@ask-xiao-official

[rcsetorn]

”Well now. That certainly makes things easier.“

The shopkeep stood there for a moment looking just the slightest bit surprised. One moment two thugs were trying to shake him down for what gil he had, and the next, completely laid out on the ground with fairly little effort on his savior's part. Ah well, at least he wouldn't have to get himself dirty by playing their little game.

If Beatrix looked closely she would see a thin knife being returned to the confines of Lillias' coat as he reached up to brush off his shoulders, the motion clearly having been practiced to make it seem as inconspicuous as possible.

“Thank you for taking care of those ruffians for me. You're truly my knight in shining armor this day.�� He smiled before giving one of the men a light nudge with the tip of his boot. ”Impressive work, by the way. Had I not seen your weapon, I would have thought you were an assassin!“

╼ ༺ :||          She loathed scoundrels... Peering down at them with pure disgust, the General remained fixated upon them for only a short time in judgement. Though the tip of her blade may have been soiled by their filthy blood, their lives were theirs to keep. However they would not stand anytime soon, or in the immanent future for that matter. Death would have been a mercy for them, but allow the dogs come pitifully lick their wounds.

Look at them play dead at the sight of her boots...

The praise beckoned her attention back upon her grateful rescuee where his words did provoke the faintest trace of curved lips of an ego stroked. Not exactly one of shining armor, but Beatrix did not protest and rather offered an inclined tilt of the head in thanks. "No, not assassin. I have no need to conceal my blade when dealing with others," she affirmed.

Brandishing a cloth and cleansing the blood from Save the Queen, Beatrix swiftly returned the beloved weapon safely unto its sheath. "Thieves prowl the area frequently. Though I see you've taken precautions," she gestured towards his knife, "it is fortunate enough only the knight's sword is sullied. You'll need not worry about these lowlifes." They could lay there and rot for all she cared, and she stepped gracefully around her fallen work.

"Will you require an escort to your destination?"

[eclipsecrowned]

OC INFO PACKET: SYBELLE RISELIN (Galdur Bait 3 PC/OC Companion)

NAME: Sybelle Riselin AGE: 20 HAIR: Black, streaked with red dye EYES: Light hazel HEIGHT: 5'5" OCCUPATION: Archivist ; Incidental Adventurer FAMILY: Parents (deceased)

She's led a simple life, all things considered. The daughter of hard-working tinmakers in the City of Coin, she lost her father before she was a year old, and her mother at only 2. What little coin their belongings fetched netted the surviving child relative comfort within the care of a local temple, but Sybelle was considered a problem from the start. Sensitive, emotional, but never quite able to communicate her wants or feelings to her caretakers. The world was always too much for her senses, but the simple ebb and flow of the temple left her mind all but consuming itself in search of enrichment. The offer to give her to a local Archive in early apprenticeship seemed a Godsend to her harried caretakers, and so, at 8, Sybelle was given up by the divine and instead given to academia.

Maybe the God she spent 6 years serving had been looking out for her after all. In the Archives, she thrived, always being given a task to accomplish, a subject to delve, a book to read and pore over. There were always travelers or locals to pick the minds of, and quiet corners when the world became overwhelming. She became a regular feature, scaling shelves in search of specific tomes or bent over a desk taking careful note of the text and condition of collection pieces. With the Archives providing room and board, she wanted for nothing -- she left the grand old building only when strictly necessary, and even then often bribed newer apprentices with coin to run her errands for her.

Still, she dreamed beyond the old Archives. Stories of heroes and travelers captivated her, historic and modern tales of might and magic wielded by saviors and scoundrels. though she never imagined she would ever join their ranks. Her nerves just leaving Athk*tla for the first time made her sure that the trip to B*ldur's Gate would be more of a test of her anxieties than her mettle, the road sure and magic humming in her veins. It was only a small errand, a message to be conveyed, and would ask little of her bravery except to stop squirming under an open sky. Yet, she never reckoned the beautiful blue above her would hold monsters beyond even her imagining.

Joins up with the party in pursuit of understanding the situation they find themselves in, as well as safe passage to B*ldurs Gate. She had been out on her own for the first time, and worries about continuing on as such. While she starts off as a reserved, ever-staring oddity among the party, time and effort will have her melt into a disarmingly earnest and thoughtful young woman better at ease with those around her. She has a tender, affable nature where her guileless optimism is offset by her wits and wisdom. Will infodump on anyone, anytime, if the situation allows.

A W*ll and Gale fangirl. Has heard stories of them and is simultaneously awed and horrified by the opportunity to travel with her heroes. Has read Gale's poetry and Weave Theory and is so desperate for a mentor please sir she was a joy to teach in school and the best research assistant her superior at the Archives ever had. W*ll, well, he's a hero. She loves the stories she hears of him and wants to hear even more straight from his own lips. Gets along unsurprisingly well with K*rlach in-game, is unfazed by Ast*rion due to backstory lore reasons (grew up around Vampires), and has surprising approval with Lae'z*l, possibly due to Sybelle's autistic swag being mistaken for the forthright lack of compromise her people idealize.

A baby wizard. Excels at the elemental school of spells, with a tendency to think outside the box when it comes to tactics. She's always looking for a way to use terrain against the enemy or otherwise use assets in plain but overlooked sight. It's all a desperate bid to end combat as quickly as possible because she doesn't wike the sensory hell of battle and would prefer to talk things out instead. When pressed, however, she definitely relies on communication and working together with the party rather than charging off to do her own thing.

Generally a neutral good. Has the vibe of being played by someone who gets anxious selecting a mean dialogue option in a meta sense. She's not a wide-eyed Pollyanna with no sense of the world, however. She exercises a comfortable level of suspicion and forethought about others, and understands when she's out of her element and needs to look to others or disengage. Wants the world to be better but is unsurprised that it is not, while also being willing to set an example.

Her arc largely focuses on living in spite of fears/anxiety/hostility, to take your place in the sun, to turn theory into experience. Her life could end tomorrow and she's wondering what she's really done with it, and wants to spend what may be her last days being something more than a girl growing as dusty as the books she loved. The world will not yield to her, so she must make the best of it -- or make it bow to her, depending on choices made. There is a place for everyone, and if it cannot be found, make one.

A complete sucker for kids. Kids can walk all over her. Via future RP plots on discord, she can be totally cowed by even the thought of making a toddler cry. Gives the energies of having been the cool big sister to other child apprentices around the Archives. Catch her in one of the basement washrooms dyeing baby punk hairs to match or even outdo her own red streaks. The kids in the Tiefling camp can take her on whatever ride they desire and she'll just say 'thank you' unless another adult steps in and speaks up for her.

Keeps writing down everything that happens, part personal journal and part official record. Wants others to know how they saved the world at best and that they were here and they fought to the last at worst. Sometimes does sketches of locations and enemies and allies and companions in the margins. Presses flowers and herbs that the protagonist isn't actively going to use for Alchemy. Pursues her hobbies even in the worst circumstances as an attempt to carve out a little joy and peace in spite of it all.

[tolkiendefiled]

Season 2 Episode 1

Well, the Rings of Power is back, and it’s still the worst hate-fiction ever.

I’ve got to admit: it was hard to watch the first episode because I can’t see anything when I’m constantly rolling my eyes. The narrative decisions made in this episode are mind boggling. The show continues to change the story in ways that make the events of the Lord of the Rings either impossible or nonsensical. Everyone but Elrond acts completely out of character compared to their book counterparts, and they also do things that, in context to the show’s story, are so unbelievably stupid that you’d be hard pressed to call the Elves the wisest of all beings.

I want you to understand that the showrunners and writers had two years to fix the problems they caused in the first season. Not all of the problems could be fixed because many of them were part of the show’s half-ass plot. However, the writing problems, the dialogue, the pacing and the new narrative choices could have been fixed - but they weren’t. This is more of the same from the terrible dialogue to the inexplicable plot points, to the incessant copying of the Lord of the Rings story structure and Peter Jackson’s films.

Ironically, the least bad thing in the episode is the thing that will probably catch the most flak - their introduction of the good man Sauron and the scoundrel Elves and Men. The show opens with the crowning of Sauron at the beginning of the Second Age. He tells the Orcs of his plan to unite all the races into one and claims that, when he and the Orcs have achieved domination over the other races, the Orcs will no longer be feared and hated but worshiped as saviors.

Now, let me get this out of the way: much of what Sauron says is actually lore accurate. Why he says it, not so much. There are going to be a bunch of people complaining about this part of his speech.

“The Valar will never forgive you. Elves will never accept you. Men… Men will never look upon you with anything but horror and disgust. A corrupted and ignoble race, worthy only to be hunted and slaughtered.” - Sauron, The Rings of Power, Season 2, Episode 1: “Elven Kings Under the Sky”

Saying things like “Orcs’ lives matter” are going to be the people who have never read the books because this bit of the speech is lore accurate. Both Morgoth and Sauron control the Orcs partly by telling them that Men, Elves and Dwarves would fear and hate them, and kill them on sight. This is in the Silmarillion, the Unfinished Tales, and the History of Middle-earth books, so if you see anyone bitching about that part, they either didn’t read the books, didn’t pay attention to what they read or they’re lying.

The same goes for anyone complaining about Sauron acting as if he just wants order. That’s literally his MO. He favored order above all else, and although he wanted to be the one in charge, his initial motives were actually good because he was, in the beginning, himself good. He sided with Melkor (Morgoth) because of how Melkor put his plans into action. Don’t take my word for it. Take JRR Tolkien’s word for it. Go read Morgoth’s Ring, chapter five: “Myths Transformed,” “Notes on motives in the Silmarillion” paperback edition pages 394 to 398.

I’m being pedantic about this because I know there will be people who love to go “You didn’t do your research” any time anyone disagrees with them. Well, I did, and that marks the fourth time I’ve read that book, which is probably four more times than any of them. 

What Sauron says in this scene is lore accurate. Why he says it definitely is not. The show changes a lot of things - the first being why Sauron is even talking to the Orcs. The show makes it sound like he appeared out of nowhere to randomly help the Orcs. That’s not at all the case. In the books, Sauron works with Morgoth throughout the First Age. After Morgoth’s defeat, Sauron puts on a fair form and repents for his actions. When summoned to stand before the Valar, he instead fled and didn’t show up again until about 500 years later, when he thought the Valar had forgotten about Middle-earth. At that time, he worked with the Easterlings who had already been corrupted by Morgoth. He doesn’t work with the Orcs until 500 years after that when he starts to build Barad-dûr.

The second change is the idea of Sauron negotiating with the Orcs. That’s not only something he would never do, but it’s something he wouldn’t need to do because the Orcs were so corrupted by Morgoth that they’re essentially genetically coded to fall in line with the Dark Lord or, really, anyone with a greater will. This turns them into drone-like creatures who simultaneously hate being controlled that way, but also need the influence to have any sense of order or unity. Sauron wouldn’t need to talk the Orcs into doing anything. His power alone would make them side with him. The show tries to present Sauron as a tragic figure - one who tried to help the Orcs only to be betrayed by them. At that point, my eyes were rolled so far back in my head that I almost missed the part where the Orc tries to stab him in the back, but then he catches the Orc and brutally kills him.

Adar is also there and, the whole time, it seems like he’s actually controlling the Orcs with these side glances. He tells the Orcs to pledge allegiance to Sauron. They do. Then Adar gets the crown to place on Sauron’s head, but stabs Sauron with it instead, and the Orcs treat Sauron’s ass like Caesar turned up to 11. If you’re wondering why the Orcs would do this, you’re in good company because I don't know either. In the prologue of the first season, we saw Sauron with an army of Orcs, so you’d think they knew him and would obey him. Even if he changed his form, he’s still using the same name and has the same powers, so why do they turn on him? If they don’t know him, which undermines the prologue, why do they turn on him when his plan would put them in power? None of this makes any sense, so it’s like the first season all over again.

Speaking of not making any sense, when Sauron dies, Adar kicks him to make sure he’s dead and Sauron’s spirit erupts and freezes the land around them, despite Sauron being associated with fire. But, see, he doesn’t really die because his blood falls through all the cracks in the ground and collects in a cave. Presumably, after hundreds - if not thousands - of years, Sauron’s goop attacks a rat and uses that stolen life to drag itself out of the cave and the mountain and down to a road where it kills a woman in a wagon, and then Sauron takes on his new form of Halbrand. Now, it is true that any Maia taking on a living form can be killed in that form, but that would only strip them of that body. Their spirit would be fine and, depending on their power, they could take on a new form again. To have Sauron turn into a puddle of blood does not make any sense, neither does him killing other things to take on a new form. The show makes no attempt to explain why this would even happen.

Oh, but then it gets nuttier because then Halbrand randomly bumps into some people fleeing an Orc attack and he meets an old man who has the crest he later uses to claim that he’s the heir to this kingdom, but the old man’s family were actually the servants of the real king’s family and he keeps it as a reminder. Apparently, Halbrand wants to kill himself after just resurrecting, but the old man convinces him to join his group leaving on a boat, which then gets attacked by a sea monster. Halbrand then steals the crest from the man when the dude gets trapped under a beam. This connects to the scene when Galadriel spots the remains of the boat when her dumbass tries to swim across an ocean to get back to Middle-earth.

To recap, Sauron goes full JD Vance, and then gets shanked for being so weird, settles in a pool of his own blood for a couple hundred years, then springs back to life killing creatures to get a new form, only to decide to try to kill himself once he’s human, but then changes his mind when he talks to the old man, but then backstabs the old man, and then teams up with Galadriel seemingly to get revenge on the Orcs and Adar who backstabbed him without ever telling anyone why he’s doing it. This is the first 15 minutes of the show and the best part of the episode, and it doesn’t make a lick of sense. This guy drags himself out of a mountain where he was dying just so he could die again, and then randomly changes his mind? Now, this is where someone will say that maybe he was looking for the Orcs, which is fair. But we don’t see that and he doesn’t say that, so how do we know that? What he says is that he’s seeking death, so there’s a problem because he was already dead, so why did he come back to life?

Speaking of problems, you remember how, in the Fellowship movie, Arwen got chased by the ringwraiths? You remember how cool that was? Now imagine that, instead of nine riders chasing down smoking hot Liv Tyler, it’s just Galadriel chasing down Elrond literally trying to grab his sack. That’s just a very unfortunate double entendre, and it will not be the last. Also, that’s actually not the problem with this scene. The problem is that we have no idea why she’s chasing him. I have a pretty good memory, but I couldn’t remember anything from the last episode of season one that had Elrond take the rings and try to keep them from anyone, so I checked the episode, and the last we see of Elrond and Galadriel is her smiling about the rings and him looking dour now that he knows that Halbrand isn’t what he claimed to be, but there’s nothing about Elrond taking the rings, so why is he running away with them? How did he even get them? There’s a story beat that’s missing, which happens a few more times in this episode, and it was a recurring problem in the first season too. We need context for why characters do things.

It seems like the writer for the episode decided to invert the explanation, so we get the reason for Elrond taking the rings after he’s already taken them, but before he knows the reason. The rings were crafted by Sauron. The way this goes down is: Elrond races to tell Gil-galad about Halbrand, and he has the rings for some reason. Galadriel tries to chase him down, but fails, so Elrond reaches the High King first. Galadriel then admits to the king that Halbrand is Sauron, which pisses off Gil-galad, who never believed Galadriel’s claim that Sauron was alive anyway, so his anger makes no sense. I’m going to have to correct myself here because I said, in conversation with friends, that everyone knew that Halbrand was Sauron, but that’s not true. Galadriel only told him that Halbrand was not who he claimed to be and not to trust him. She never told Elrond or Celebrimbor that Halbrand was Sauron, so one, my mistake. And two, why does Elrond take the rings? He doesn’t know there’s anything wrong with them. As far as he knows, the rings can still help heal the tree that somehow ties the Elves to immortality in Middle-earth, which also doesn’t make a lick of sense, but I’ll get to that later.

Now that Elrond knows the rings were created with Sauron’s materials, he refuses to hand them over to the king because he doesn’t know what control Sauron might have over them, even though Galadriel says Sauron never touched them. This is the biggest problem in the show. Elrond is so obviously right that it makes Gil-galad and Galadriel look dumb and dumber to want to use the rings. This massive issue only happens because the showrunners decided to invert the order in which the rings were created. In the book, the Seven and the Nine were created first, with Sauron’s help, while Celebrimbor makes the Three on his own. This is how the Elves know for sure that Sauron has no direct power over the Three. By reversing the order of creation, the Elves now have no way to know what, if any, control Sauron has over the rings because they have no point of reference. There are no other Rings of Power. Why would anyone put on these rings when the enemy could control them?

This is probably why this show has this nonsense about the tree being tied to the Elves’ immortality. If the tree’s light fades and the Elves can no longer stay in Middle-earth, then they will leave the Men and Dwarves to the machinations of Sauron, while the Elves flee back to Valinor. The only way for the Elves to stay and fight is using the Three Rings to restore the light of the tree, granting them immortality in Middle-earth again. I guess that works in a kind of backwards logic. Of course, that begs the question of why we never hear anything about this damn tree in the Lord of the Rings. It would be the first thing Sauron would destroy because they’d get rid of the Elves, but it never comes up. Remember, the Rings of Power is supposed to connect to the Lord of the Rings, so that’s a major change that breaks the story because all the Elven cities on the west coast are more or less abandoned by the Third Age, so what happened to the tree? Did they just leave it? Did they take it somewhere else? How does this fading light affect half-Elves like Elrond? Does he half die? Since half-Elves have the gift to choose mortality, should he choose a mortal life? Does his light go back to the tree? All of this nonsense could have been avoided by telling the story in the proper order. There was no reason to change it. The change doesn’t even add anything to the story. It doesn’t fit with the lore at all, and it’s so convoluted that the show can barely explain it.

Anyway, Gil-galad wants the rings to save the tree, but Elrond won’t give them up and jumps into the waterfall to get away. He somehow survives this, which would be surprising if half the cast hadn’t survived a volcanic eruption at point blank range in the last season. Meanwhile, Halbrand has somehow wound up as a prisoner of the Orcs, still claiming to be a king, which is strange because the last time we saw him, he was smiling with Mount Doom in the background. How did he end up with these people, and why is he in chains? Anyone? Anyone from the show want to explain what happened? While you’re at it, would you like to explain how much time has passed between the last episode and this one, just for reference? No? What? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Say it again? “This isn’t that kind of show.” Got it.

Halbrand is in chains and gets taken in front of Adar, claiming that he will help Adar find Sauron if Adar frees his people. So, he went from Caesar to Moses. Is he going to do an impression of Jesus next? That’s a rhetorical question. I’ve already seen the clips. The answer is yes. Anyway, I think Adar suspects that Halbrand might be Sauron, but it’s not clear.

Either way, Adar orders his men to torture Halbrand before later coming to talk to him about the story about how Adar and the other Moriondor, the “sons of the dark,” came into being. They were promised power by Morgoth and locked away on a cliff to starve. Eventually, Sauron brought Adar wine and it’s implied that this is the wine that changed Adar, which is why he hates Sauron. This is fine. It does borrow pieces from the Silmarillion, but it works. It’s just buried midway in the episode between the convoluted plot about the rings and the Stranger and Nori wandering around in the desert eating bugs.

Another moment that works in the scene is when Halbrand pledges his allegiance to Adar, but instead of saying Adar, he says the Dark Lord and then smirks because he’s the Dark Lord. We also see in this scene that he uses his power to control a warg that later attacks the Man torturing him. In short, we see Sauron being evil, but with the implication that he’s just getting revenge against Adar. The show tries to make Sauron a tragic villain. I don’t know why they did this with Sauron when they already have the character Adar to use for that concept. It works better with him because he’s a corrupted Elf, whereas Sauron is a growing Dark Lord. But then again, I’ve got this nasty habit of wanting things to make sense, so of course, I would find it weird for the greatest evildoer in the land to be treated as a tragic victim of circumstances.

Speaking of tragic circumstances, let’s talk about the Stranger (totally not Gandalf, by the way) and his damn Hobbit because their scenes killed the already glacial pace of the show. If, before, the show moved like molasses, these scenes make it move like glass. The first scene was barely seven minutes long; I swear it felt like twenty minutes. And what do we get for our struggle? A bunch of clunky dialogue either borrowed from the Lord of the Rings book and film or trying and failing to sound like it came from Tolkien. I just watched Kung Fu Panda 4 and part of the story was Po trying to come up with wise sayings. That’s what this scene was like, but slower and not entertaining. All this just to establish that the mystery man is having wet dreams about grabbing his staff and things erupting when he does. I told you that there would be more unfortunate double entendres.

Nori asks the Stranger about his dreams, but that’s not the kind of thing you share with a young lady. He also tries to use his power to make a tree grow because they need food, but he can’t control it and destroys the tree, but calls up some bugs for him and Nori to eat. Off in the distance, he sees a light and realizes they’re being followed. We all know who this is, but they don’t. Later, they set a trap to catch the person and it turns out to be Poppy, who followed them this whole time and they never noticed. On the plus side, she brings food, a map, and a hint of how to find the right way. Apparently, the Hobbits came from this direction and their walking song tells them how to find their way through the desert. Of course, Poppy isn’t the only one following them. One of Xerxe’s minions from 300 spies on them the whole time. I mean, why steal from Peter Jackson when you can also crib from Zack Snyder? 

The rest of the episode is about the Elves finding Elrond. He goes to the Grey Havens to Círdan the Shipwright, who Elrond convinces to destroy the rings. Círdan won’t even look at the rings, and just takes Elrond’s word that they’re dangerous, and decides to toss them into a chasm in the sea, which might be a reference to Maglor for throwing one of the Silmarils into the sea. But when Círdan tries to throw it into the water, something bubbles up and the rings fall back into his boat. He finally opens the pouch and sees the rings and changes his mind. Meanwhile, Galadriel arrives with Gil-galad and tries to talk Elrond into giving her the rings, but Círdan already has them. Because of this, the group goes back to the tree and Gil-galad sings a sad song about the last leaves falling from the tree - or more like Tolkien weeping in his grave. And then Círdan shows up with the rings, wearing Narya the Ring of Fire, and gives the other two - Vilya the Ring of Air and Nenya the Ring of Water - to Gil-galad. Elrond shouts for the king not to put them on, causing Gil-galad to drop them. Nenya bounces to Galadriel, who puts it on, and suddenly the tree springs back to life, glowing with golden light as if it were a small version of Laurelin - one of the Two Trees of Valinor.

Now, if you hear some shuffling, don’t worry. That’s just Tolkien spinning in his grave. You’re going to hear that a lot in this show, so get used to it. Everything about this is wrong. The idea that the Elves need some tree to survive is wrong. That they need a Silmaril to fix it is wrong. That the Silmaril is a source of mithril is wrong. That the Three Rings are made of an alloy of mithril, meaning they’re part Silmaril, is wrong. And that putting on the rings instantly fixes the tree that’s not even connected to the rings, and the Elves don’t even do anything, is wrong. All that is before we talk about how all the Elves - the most beautiful beings in Middle-earth - look like regular people pulled off the street. Elrond’s face sums it up (below). How did it come to this?

Genuinely, I don’t understand how anyone reads Tolkien’s books and then envisions anything like this scene or anything that happens in this show. The Rings of Power is from a completely different world. It isn’t even in the same vein as Tolkien’s Elves being silly and goofy in the Hobbit and a little silly in the Lord of the Rings, but super serious in the Silmarillion. Nothing from the Rings of Power connects to Tolkien’s world. It’s just using names, locations and ideas from Tolkien’s works. If you watch this show and then read the Lord of the Rings or watch the films, you’d swear you missed something because it just doesn’t connect.

And then you get this crazy ending to the episode where Halbrand shows up at Celebrimbor’s forge. Celebrimbor lets him in, even though it’s only been a few days - maybe a few weeks - since Galadriel told Celebrimbor that Halbrand is a fraud; don’t trust him. Mind you, Gil-galad sends a message to Celebrimbor that Halbrand is Sauron, but because the show makes no attempt to tell you about distance or time, it’s not clear whether that message should have gotten there by now. Why in the world would he let this guy in after the events of the first season? In the book, it makes sense that Celebrimbor works with Annatar because no one knows who Annatar is. Even though Galadriel doesn’t trust him, the other Elves have no tangible reason to agree with her. In the Rings of Power, Celebrimbor knows the dude lied about his identity and ran away. Why does he let Halbrand in? It makes no sense why he would ignore Galadriel’s warning - aside from the fact that she’s the dumbest person in the world because she didn’t realize she was standing next to the guy she’s been hunting for centuries. That’s how the episode ends - with this set of inexplicable situations that come across like the worst hate-fiction ever.

I will give the show some credit. The VFX are better than the first season. The set design for the Sauron and Adar scenes were perfect. The Orcs look awesome. That said, the Elven sets still look like sets. I think that’s because of how they’re lit and the color grading done on the shots. I think more contrast and less saturation might make the Elven scenes feel more realistic. When it comes to the story - you know, the reason why anyone watches this show - yeah, it’s bad. On the plus side, it’s not worse than the first season. On the bad side, it’s more of the same. It’s like no one on the show learned from their mistakes, so they’re just making them all over again. I suspect that they’ll get the same result. They’ll lose most of their audience by mid-season. That might be why Amazon released three episodes up front. That gives them some coverage before the numbers fall off. If that’s the game they’re playing, it doesn’t bode well for the season or the series as a whole.

It’s always a strange choice for people to take something beloved by a large audience and then fundamentally change it and expect that fans will love the new take. I think damn near everyone loves the band Earth, Wind & Fire. I know everybody loves the song September, so when the world’s current mega pop star Taylor Swift decided to cover that song, I don’t think anyone expected to get her Panera Bread rendition, and nobody liked it. Everything about her cover was the wrong choice to make, and the same goes for the Rings of Power.

All the changes made in the show make it harder to tie the show back to the events that lead to the Lord of the Rings. That undermines the appeal of the show because it comes across as hate-fiction instead of an adaptation of the story. It doesn’t feel like Tolkien’s world. You can change a lot of things, like Peter Jackson did, but still make it feel like it belongs in Middle-earth. I think the War of the Rohirrim film will play out this way. It’ll be canonically incorrect, but still feel like it’s part of or could have happened in Tolkien’s world. Hell, even the Shadow of Mordor games managed that, and they’re wildly off.

I’m not interested in Amazon’s hate-fiction. I’m interested in seeing Tolkien’s works brought to life. The more you deviate from his works, the less I’m invested in your story. Even if it’s good, because I’m not just here for your take, I’m here for him; and when it seems like you have no respect for what he did, no respect for his work, I have no patience for yours. I’m willing to accept some changes because that’s the nature of adaptation, but the core story and characters shouldn’t be unrecognizable, and that’s unfortunately what we get with the Rings of Power. 

[la-fierecilla]

you still being hypocrite, coward, liars scoundrels and communist and you believe in these bad directors like JUSTIN HALPERN and PATRICK SCHUMACKER that these scoundrels produces thinking that eco-terrorist ,PAMELA ISLEY, POISON IVY like savior ,healthy and heroine and blame and demonize the SUPERMAN, KAL-EL, CLARK KENT, THEODORE KORD,BLUE BEETLE ,MICHAEL CARTER, BOOSTER GOLD and WALLY WEST , FLASH and how much shame and disgust do I have about you?

I find this hilarious because I was just looking for a post among the drafts and out of curiosity I saw my messages inbox.

Who knows how long this message has been around but...did you seriously take the time to send me a message about something that I'm sure I don't even remember and anonymously?

I'm responding to you out of politeness but damn... I thought people had stopped doing that, I just want to tell you that there are better ways to occupy your time instead of picking fights everywhere.

See ya ✌️

[littlelostmabari]

WIP Wednesday

I finally posted a WIP on Wednesday!

This is the last bit that I have written out for sure, mostly because this scene dragged me into a back alley and hit me over the head. I originally thought Saoirse would run into Hawke and Fenris first, but... Anders is the healer and Saoirse is hurt...

One of the Good Ones (in progress)

CW: Canon-typical violence under the cut

“Of all the blasted… Lass, can you hear me?” Saoirse had to turn just to her left to see where the voice was coming from. A woman in white with deep blue breeches was waving frantically while a blonde young man behind her was rapidly untying a small rowboat from the docks. He hopped in and slammed the oars into the water, shoving the boat in Saoirse’s direction. The woman remained on the docks wringing her hands. Saoirse blinked away tears that she didn’t realize had started to fall, and began to drag herself through the water towards the rowboat. Soon enough she was being lugged over the side, landing curled around her satchel at the bottom of the small craft. The man had his hands on her shoulders and her face, before realizing that the worst of her wounds were farther down her body. He hissed at the crossbow bolt. 

“What’s your name, lass? What had you in the middle of the bloody harbor?” He pushed Saoirse’s hood back over her head and brushed her sodden hair out of her face. She accepted his touch and tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down. “Nevermind, rest now, we’ll have you back on land in a moment.” 

She felt the boat start rocking back toward the dock, and fought back despair that she had landed somewhere altogether unfamiliar. When the boat hurriedly slammed into the sandstone wall next to the pier, the woman’s voice entered her thoughts. 

“Donny, hurry, Donny, get her up here.”

“Maker, woman, give me a hand.” Donny threw the rope across to the woman who tied it to the dock stay with practiced ease. In the meantime, he slid a hand under Saoirse’s knees and shoulders, and began to heft her from the boat. With all of her armor, she must have weighed twice as much as normal, but she had found a savior with some dockworker strength. He started into the city before stopping and turning his head over his shoulder. 

“Take her weapons, Mari,” he said to the woman who clambered down the dock after them. “They’re knocking my bits to bits.” Saoirse’s sense of self-preservation tried to protest — thieves, scoundrels! — but Mari’s fingers ran over her belt for only a moment before untying her scabbard and tucking it under her arm. The druid’s fingers were too cold and swollen to do anything to stop her. 

“Should take her to Darktown, Donny. She looks awful.” 

“Where do you think I’m going, dumb-dumb? Like I’m gonna leave some poor Carta-drenched sap to the city watch,” he mocked as he started back up through the district. Saoirse again tried to protest, but her voice came out with nothing but a pained scratchy cough. Too much seawater and waves of tension from her calf-wound left her next to useless — especially when so much of her magic relied on power of speech. Instead, she reached carefully into her satchel to pull out her compass as sneakily as she could. 

The arrow always pointed north, whenever she was on the Material Plane. But here? Here the arrow pointed everywhere and nowhere, spinning wildly before getting stuck for a few seconds, then releasing with a new fervor. She wasn't on the Material Plane but neither was she in the Feywild. 

Silvanus preserve me. 

She tucked herself tighter around her satchel and let the man carry her to Darktown — wherever that was. 

The minutes dragged by, and all Saoirse remembered was stairs. Lots and lots of stairs. And ramps. And tunnels. She actually remembered quite a bit about the journey except enough to know how to find her way back out into sunlight. It seems that Darktown was named appropriately, with heavy rock overburden blocking out what remained of the afternoon. Donny carried her the whole way, shushing Mari every time she brought up a new question. He must have realized that Saoirse was hurt enough that she couldn’t speak, and didn’t ask anything further. 

When they finally reached their destination, all Saoirse could sense was dirt, stale air, and squalor. Her saviors had not brought her somewhere particularly clean, and if she had been able to do anything more than cough up more seawater, she might have tried to fight back. Donny stopped at a large wooden wall and motioned for Mari to open the door, but before she could, a latch was turned and Saoirse heard another voice emerge from the other side of the wall. Silence for a moment, then,

“Maricera, I seem to recall telling you that if you came to my door again asking for herbs for that — oh.” 

“You have to help her, Anders, she was drowning and I don’t think she can talk, and oh Maker she has a terrible wound on her leg and she keeps crying” crying? “and Donny said…” Mari trailed off as Donny pushed through the door that had just opened and walked a few more paces before Saoirse felt herself lowered gently onto a cot. The faceless voice picked up again. 

“Should have known it would be you two bringing me another wet rat. Alright, let’s take a look.”

Saoirse felt her long hair being pushed off of her face again, her hands clutched too tightly around her satchel to be much use. Fingers kinder than she would have expected pressed down from her temple to her jawline, and then to pulse points on her neck. She felt a gentle ripple of cool air and saw a faint glow behind her eyelids, which she slowly forced herself to open. 

The man before her was about her age, with clever eyes sitting deep in his sockets from tiredness. His tawny hair was pulled back from his face, with several short locks that had escaped and hung limply over his face. A days-old beard the same color of his hair covered the lower half of his face. His green and gray robes registered in her mind as leathers and furs, and the gentle magelight hovering underneath his palms eased her concerns. Donny and Mari had brought her to a healer. His hands hovered gently over her clothing, and then lingered at her left leg. 

“Is this a friend of yours, Donny?” 

“No. It’s as Mari said, she was drowning in the harbor. Probably a Carta hit, although’ve not seen her around the docks before.”

“Very well. I can take it from here. She’ll need to stay overnight, you can check on her in the morning.” 

Mari started up again, but Donny hushed her and took Saoirse’s scabbard from the woman. He laid it gently against the foot of the cot. 

“Might be back in the morning, might not. Thanks Anders.”

The healer grunted. “Seems she’s a lucky one, running into the only two bleeding-heart fools in Kirkwall.”