#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.

[homestuck-fanauthor-coalition]

A sickness by another name (wouldn't be sweet either but with luck, it would at least look much more tame)

@thoughts-of-a-scoundrel

Timekeeper’s eyes snapped open with a sharp inhale, the darkness around him giving rise to a number of fantastical and increasingly violent scenarios within his mind, before he remembered where he was. The young dragon turned over onto his other side. Jade Mountain Academy had been Timekeeper’s savior, when he’d first arrived. He knew that with all of the scrutiny the school was under, and all of the dragons that lived on campus, Darkstrider would have to be stupid to try and chase him here. And Timekeeper knew that his father was anything but.

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:  Gen

Fandom: Homestuck, Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland

Relationships: Dave Strider & Karkat Vantas, Vriska Serket & Dave Strider, Terezi Pyrope & Dave Strider, Aradia Megido & Dave Strider, Jade Harley & Dave Strider

Characters: Dave Strider, John Egbert, Jade Harley, Rose Lalonde, Vriska Serket, Terezi Pyrope, Karkat Vantas, Tavros Nitram, Sollux Captor, Aradia Megido

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Jade Mountain Academy (Wings of Fire), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Dave Strider

An entrant in the Homestuck Fan Author Coalition's March 2025 Competition: Gift Swap. 

Awards:

[kaeyaswifefromsnezhnaya]

Terunene reasoning part two, lol

What if Teru is easier with guys because he is less afraid of hurting them, plus he only has experience with them (Kou + Akane) and he is literally a little afraid of girls... The meme is that he was convinced to be perfect since childhood, the students all simp for him, and he himself believed a little that he is so super cool.

But this is not true, he is a loser lol. Although it is easier for him to accept his weaknesses and shortcomings, he tells Kou not to play the hero, that he can't be normal, because he is an exorcist, not a hero, and his whining when they gather at home and he starts looking for attention. It's like he boasts about his own shortcomings, like look how stupid I am, even realizing that he is not perfect, he still loves himself...probably?? But he is very comfortable in the family and accepted as such a silly. Teru definitely has little problems with self-esteem, he is damn proud of himself

And he is drawn to Aoi to some extent because she is convenient. She will not cry suddenly (unless you force tears out of her), she is always reserved and detached. He will not have to deal with her real feelings, which he is afraid of and from which he runs away and hides. And if he plays a savior and a kind senpai for her, then despite all her tsundere behaviour, she will react more calmly. Teru guesses what to expect from Aoi, so he plays these games with her. "She is like me." But with Nene you does not know what she can give out when she really falls in love with a person, Hanako hiccups on the sidelines. Teru is afraid of strong women point? (!)

Terunene is a kind of arlfr so-so... Arlecchino, who finds character in Furina behind the game of superficial bravado, and is embarrassed by this, because she herself wants to be cool, but something does not work out. Teru is afraid of Nene in this regard, what if? But he is clearly not ready to see her essence, it is not Nene who needs to be afraid of a sadistic senpai, she will say "oh, well ok", and he will be afraid of all these feelings and his own vulnerability

"he is just a little bit of a scoundrel"

Her superficial attitude is literally a weapon against those who try to hurt her deeply. She may be hurt of course, or she may simply not notice. And if the guy is not a cold manipulator, but a weak little dog inside, like Teru, then he himself will cringe with a ricochet

Teru is interested in romance, he is a teenager from isolation 😭And then attention from a girl in love just falls upon him, he enjoys watching how things are done. It seems that he just enjoys satisfying her wet desires, playing along with her, like it will sincerely amuse him, otherwise I can't explain nightmares chapter and dead man's mokke.

Nene is right in the middle between Akane and Aoi in character, she seems like a sweet, shy girl, but at the same time purposeful and even unbridled, but with Aoikane it is divided into two, and it is easier this way, with Akane you can be ruder, because he is a guy, with Aoi you don’t need to be rude, and Nene - what to do with her? He would like to push, but it’s dangerous, he would like to underestimate, but he will get stuck, she is not an observer, everything is combined in her like this. And if Teru is afraid of strong women, if he is afraid of his own feelings, then of course he will hide in the toilet

Damn, Hanako literally lives in the toilet, he has nowhere to run 😭And this is because Hanako sat in the women's toilet for half a century and heard all sorts of things, one of the girls and can get along with them. And Teru barely knows some girls, my poor boy

[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

liked by austinfans, turnerupdates, and 72097 others

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?

[writesaboutdragons]

365 Proverbs for Daily Living

Day 47 – She is Your Life

Take hold of instruction; do not let go. Guard her, for she is your life. (Pro 4:13 NASB95)

Read: Psalm 119:1-8

Today’s devotion contains spoilers for Disney’s Tangled, so if you haven’t seen it you might want to consider doing so before reading on. It’s a good film, and with a message far better, probably, than the writers intended.

In the original Grimm Fairy Tales, a woman lived by a sorceress, and looked into her garden each day and saw Rapunzel growing there. These edible flowers are a variety of Bluebell, which is almost always toxic and can be fatal, so don’t eat any. The campanula rapunculus is likely what was involved in the story. Regardless, the original tale is grim, like most of the Grimm’s tales, though it does have a happy ending, though it gets quite dark before the dawn. On to the Disney version.

In Disney’s Tangled, Rapunzel’s mother is pregnant with her, but falls desperately ill, and only the healing powers of the sundrop bloom can save her. The king hears where one grows, and sends soldiers to retrieve it, unknowing that the witch, Gothel, has been using its healing powers to keep herself young and beautiful for a long time. Centuries, in fact.

The flower is fed to the mother, and she is healed. The flower’s healing powers pass on to the baby girl, and her golden hair is where the magic is stored. The witch enters the crib room, intending to just steal a lock of the hair, but when cut it turns dark, and so she takes the baby instead, using her hair and an incantation she teaches to the girl to continue to heal and restore her beauty and youth.

In the original Grimm story, the parents are never mentioned again, but as they live beside the sorceress, one can only surmise they went on with their lives. However, the king and queen and the kingdom mourn the loss of the missing princess every year, and launch lanterns into the sky on her birthday every year. Rapunzel sees these flying every year, and longs to see where they come from, but the witch refuses to let her leave the tower.

Rather than a prince, a young scoundrel named Flynn Ryder is wanted for stealing Rapunzel’s intended crown, and is fleeing capture, as well as his double-crossed companions in crime, when he hides in the tower, and is captured by the princess, Rapunzel.

They escape the tower together, but Flynn is captured and Rapunzel betrayed back into the witch’s clutches. She returns her to the tower and sets a trap for Flynn, tricking and stabbing him. As Flynn lies dying, the witch decides to take Rapunzel even farther away, but she agrees to stay and not try to escape, if only Gothel will allow her to heal Flynn. She agrees, hoping to harness the powers of the hair again for another anti-aging spell. But Flynn takes the shard of the mirror he was stabbed with, pulls it out of his chest, and in a shocking move I never saw coming, uses the broken glass to cut off all Rapunzel’s magical hair.

Her hair immediately turns dark, and the witch, instead of being healed, begins to rapidly age back the centuries she has used the flower to stave off death. She hurls herself from the tower and plummets to the ground far below, but turns to dust even before she gets there. Flynn appears to die without the magical healing powers of the hair, but Rapunzel’s tears as she holds her dying love still contain enough power to heal him. She is returned to her kingdom, and Flynn, the wanted fugitive, is pardoned, marries her and becomes the prince.

There’s a message here, if you will, and parallels to our own redemptive story, that are striking, and worthy of revealing. Like Flynn, we’ve all broken the law, and are at heart self-centered criminals in God’s eyes, and worthy of death. We’ve only, ultimately, got the person in the mirror to thank for the death coming, too. The wicked one is involved in our death blow, and is only defeated when the savior is cut off.

The parallels don’t end there. It’s only through the power of the child of the one we’ve betrayed, that we can have life. And only through the sorrow and travail of the one we cut off, are we healed.

We don’t receive this new life, this healing of our souls, by clinging to our current life, either. As Flynn discovered, we have to repent our old ways, turn over a new leaf, and even be willing to die to that old life, to get the new one. But the new one we didn’t expect is far better than the old hunted life we had. Instead of stealing a crown, we are given one. Instead of being the enemy of the king we become his child. Instead of inheriting a noose we will inherit a kingdom.

It isn’t always easy to spot, but the pieces of the great redemption story can be pointed out almost anywhere you look. When your own kids decide to watch a movie, watch it with them, if you can, and after it’s all over, over icecream, perhaps, point out for them where you saw Jesus peeking through in it. Where they can find wisdom and the truths we are unpacking here. That practice can only come if you know this Word we are studying, you know. I’ve spent plenty of time helping my kids spot the lies in the entertainment industry, but it’s always so much more encouraging, when I can help them spot nuggets of truth.

Prayer:

Lord, help me to grasp tightly to the instruction you have in your Word, and help me spot your face and fingerprints in the world around me, today. Amen

[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.

[alexandrakotyash]

Yandere Gays:

1. Rolo Lamperouge (anime, manga, games "Code Gias") like a brotherly relationship, with a slight hint of romance;

2. Nam Ye Sop (manhwa "An Inconvenient Truth");

3. Shirayuki Himekawa (manga "Madman in love Shirayuki-kun");

4. Michiya Mifune (manga "With Yandere under one roof");

5. Version (manhwa "It's So easy to be a Savior");

6. Shin Habin (manhwa "Scoundrel and Stalker");

7. Tae Won (manhwa "Moonlight Tale");

8. Jung Min Yu (manhua "Every Day I I wish to disgrace the Yandere Prince")!

——————————————————————

Яндере Геи:

1. Роло Ламперуж (аниме, манга, игры "Код Гиас") вроде братские отношения, с небольшим намёком на романтику;

2. Нам Ё Соп (манхва "Неудобная Правда");

3. Шираюки Химекава (манга "Влюблённый безумец Шираюки-кун");

4. Мичия Мифунэ (манга "С яндере под одной крышей");

5. Версион (манхва "Так легко быть спасителем");

6. Шин Хабин (манхва "Мерзавец и сталкер");

7. Тхэ Вон (манхва "Лунная сказка");

8. Чжун Минь Юй (маньхуа "Каждый день я желаю опозорить яндере-принца")!

[lorenfinch]

4, 5, 10 for the EOY asks!

4. what is your favourite line you wrote this year?

That was a tough one for me 'cause I'm not entirely sure which passages I wrote in 2024 (I mostly revised the past year), but I do remember this one from my revision!

As the bards struck their chorus, Sorcha the ladies’ maid pulled one of the Edelian soldiers into a waltz, and oh, how they glided across the dance floor, laughing and prancing. With her light hair and his black, I imagined them as Prince Renwick and Eleanor themselves, twirling hand in hand under the light of a thousand candles. Surrounding the prince and princess were their friends and courtiers, all wearing their grandest of finery. The music swelled and the leaders lifted their partners with the grace of swans. I closed my eyes and instead of Sorcha and her soldier it was me waltzing, myself and my vampiric savior. The soft blue velvet of his frock coat was near tangible, and I swayed to the melody of the ballad as I imagined a dance with Vince Lockwood. The Vince of my dreams dipped me and smiled as our faces near touched, those periwinkle eyes of his sparkling beneath golden lashes. “You’re more of a scoundrel than I realized,” he purred in a voice that was very much not his own.

5. what is your favourite book/story/poem you read this year?

Again, another tough one cause I'm not sure which books I read in 2024. I said a Tempest of Tea somewhere else but apparently I read that book in 2023 according to Goodreads? Anyway I enjoyed Most Ardently a lot, and the Phoenix Keeper. Also shoutout to my Song of Ice and Fire reread

10. which character(s) turned out differently from what you had planned? how so?

Oh, my villain for sure. He was originally supposed to be a kooky funnyguy villain, but as the series grew darker in tone, so did he. Now his relationship to Ren is a lot more personal and I find their interactions SO gut-wrenching

[devildancing]

cause when i'd fight, you used to tell me i was brave. an unrequested sirius drabble feat. narcissa and james

This isn't how it's supposed to be — not how things are meant to play out. Sirius just can't reconcile it in his brain, it's so ludicrous - so absolutely fucking preposterous - that he really must be as mad as they all say! He stifles the anxious trembling of his hands with another bottle and another cigarette, fire and ash mingling on his heavy-laden tongue as he fights sleep like the devil it surely is. If he closes his eyes, he's just going to see it all over again.

When did he become so bloody useless?

i.

The first time he'd written it off as a fluke because what else could it ever possibly be? The night had been young, the punch bowl spiked to absolute perfection. Mischief was the sort of thing that one expected on Halloween because the typical roles of the masses were tossed aside in favor of masks and costumes. He might have never even noticed if he didn't know both of them so well.

She had looked so lost and alone at the time, weaving through the crowds like a wisp of air without either of her sisters beside her. ( An odd sight in and of itself, honestly. ) Sirius had heard the news about his pretty little cousin, of course. His younger brother had never had a quiet mouth and Malfoy was practically beside himself with the happy news. If the gossip vine was to be believed, Narcissa had been the last to know and if the Gryffindor boy were any decent sort of wizard he would have broached the distance between black sheep and sacrificial lamb to offer his condolences, however unwanted. They'd been close...once.

Only now her cool blue eyes weren't searching for him. Sirius' indecision had given way to someone else's opportunity and he all too quickly realized just who had taken on the title of charming savior in his place. Why not? James was practically made for the role, after all. He watched - somewhat bemused and shrewd of eye - as the two of them weaved and danced around one another long before his best mate even dared to finally take his tiny slip of a cousin into his arms. At the time, he'd assumed that they didn't know — that they couldn't possibly know — whose faces lay behind the masks.

He hadn't expected the sound of Narcissa's laughter to carry more weight in the pit of his belly than the poor little dead girl about to float into the hall.

ii.

The second time was something that he just couldn't understand. He'd been minding his own bloody business, plodding about the snow-covered streets in dog form just for the freedom of it all. ( Fresh air. He'd wanted the fresh air! ) Sirius had known that James was out and about, of course. They'd had plans to meet back up before the big winter storm well and truly kicked off. What he hadn't counted on was spying her through one of the shop's side windows in a swath of silks and laces, looking absolutely fucking miserable.

He knew that face all too well, despite not having seen it in years. Narcissa had become better at hiding the toll of their family behind a porcelain veneer and seeing it so openly now had the scoundrel whining against the glass before rational thought could pull the sound back. It really wouldn't have been anything for him to go to her then. There would have been nothing to it. Just a dumb dog to raise a little raucous and maybe, just maybe, bring her a smile. Oh, but he didn't move. He didn't even try.

No, someone else did that for him.

The familiarity between them hadn't made any fucking sense — the entire situation hadn't made any fucking sense! Even now he wants to think that it was some insane fever dream conjured by the blistering cold because the reality was so far removed from logic. There'd been nothing of the bitterness that he'd expected and more flirting than he could physically stomach. How easily James had reached out to touch his pretty cousin — how brightly proud, pale Narcissa had blushed!

Lucky for all of them he hadn't followed them further than that.

iii.

See to your cousin! See to your cousin! See to your cousin!

He'd heard Remus' barked order but as if through some thick, dark water. Muffled. Distant. As if Sirius were drowning. The boy had been too caught up in the slight of her, pale and fragile against the castle's stone wall. The scent of blood was thick in the air — her blood. ( His blood. The very same running through his veins! ) Narcissa looked so small - like a child - and it took him back to a place that he didn't want to go, that he'd sworn never to return to. Back then he'd at least tried to save her; pried her from the open window and his mother's merciless clutch. He'd done what he could, he'd done what he'd had to.

Now he couldn't even move. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

The dark-haired boy hadn't even registered being pushed to the side until his knees had cracked against the floor. Oh, and there he was again! Absent but now present and down on his own knees before the broken body of Sirius' cousin and calling to her like a madman. ( Not 'Little Black,' not even 'Narcissa,' but Cissy! ) Even through the haze, it was impossible not to take in. James was scared — legitimately fucking scared and the hands that cradled her wan face were trembling. There was no taking her from him now, no doing what he should have done from the start.

He was a fucking bystander — and a useless one at that!

❝ Fuck! ❞

His bottle smashes against the wall opposite him, a wretched groan scraping at his throat once calloused hands paw at burning eyes. Fuck this! Fuck them! Fuck him! Sirius wishes that he could erase the sight. He wishes that he could just erase the entire wretched night and his mind and every other fucking thing. Because, there's not a bit of it — not a single goddamned thing — that can possibly be real! So much has happened, so many things have been going on, right under his nose. Without him.

And now he's left with a single, horrifying question: Whose fault was that?