#brought a knife to a gun fight

[maximiliians]

[hearttsck]

splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless

excellent fun til you get to know her

[hammerbrutality]

MK Intros w/ Cassie Cage

Cassie Cage x GN!Reader

Notes: Flirty dialogue, Some swearing — Reblogs are appreciated <3

Cassie: Should I give you a kiss now?

Y/N: You mean before I kick your ass?

Cassie: Hah! Either way, you'll want it

♡

Cassie: Well hello, hot stuff

Y/N: Does your mother approve of us?

Cassie: Ugh. Way to kill the vibe, Y/N

♡

Cassie: You mean the world to me, Y/N

Y/N: Why don't you put a ring on it then?

Cassie: Wait, what? Pause!!!

♡

Y/N: Your dad doesn't seem to like me very much

Cassie: That's because you're always trying to out-funny him

Y/N: Not my fault I have the better dad jokes

♡

Y/N: When I said I could take you, I didn't mean in a fight!

Cassie: Aww, believe in yourself, Y/N

Y/N: You're a goddamn commander in the Special Forces, dude

♡

Cassie: Did you really bring a knife to a gun fight?

Y/N: No, I brought knives. Plural.

Cassie: That's cute, Y/N. I brought guns. Plural.

♡

Y/N: If I lose, will you kiss it better?

Cassie: Depends. Are you gonna fight like a bitch?

Y/N: Fight like a bitch or not fight like a bitch... Which one gets me a "yes, I'll kiss you"? Help me out, Cass

♡

Y/N: So... what are you doing after this?

Cassie: Celebrate my victory over you with a drink

Y/N: Could I buy you another one then?

♡

Y/N: Can I call you mine?

Cassie: Don't flirt with me. It won't get you out of this fight

Y/N: That wasn't a no

♡

Y/N: Would you stop taking 0.5 forehead photos of me?

Cassie: I'm an artist and you're my muse!

Y/N: I'm gonna kill you, Cassie!

[even-disco-baby]

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “You’re pretty good with that boy, Cuno.” She says it thoughtfully, as though she’s turning this fact over in her mind as she works at the tangled net in her lap. The sea is a soft roar over the horizon, and the world is tinged a dusky blue.

“Really? It doesn’t feel like I am. He still calls me anything but my name. Usually a slur.”

“It’s tough love, Lilienne, that’s all. A kid like that needs discipline.”

“He’s not that hard to deal with. He just wants somebody to play along with him. That’s all any kid wants.”

“He was good to me first.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She arches an eyebrow. “Really now…”

DRAMA — She isn’t doubtful, sire. Just surprised.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Well, I hope you’ll keep on being good to each other, then. The kid certainly needs it.”

EMPATHY — And so do you, she thinks.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “You seem good with the young people around here in general,” she muses. “Cuno, those kids at the church, Lily and the boys… You said you used to be a teacher, didn’t you? Maybe that’s why.”

PAIN THRESHOLD — A familiar ache squeezes your lungs. The same ache that drove you to become a teacher in the first place. An incalculable and long forgotten loss.

INLAND EMPIRE — Don’t follow this thread any further. Let it unravel.

“Yeah, that’s probably it.”

“No, there’s something else… Lost children, a lost Indotribe…” [Follow the thread.]

“I think I wanted to be a father, once.” [Change the subject.]

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She pauses her work, strands of the net wrapped loosely around her fingers, but does not look up. “…Oh?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Hey, it’s never too late! Now’s your chance to give fatherhood a shot!

“Any chance *we* could make it happen?” [Give her the finger guns.]

“I wonder why I did…”

“It was a stupid thing to want.”

“I still do.”

“I guess it never worked out.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Hm…” She goes back to her work, slowly and carefully. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. Can’t remember.”

“In *this* economy?”

“Things never lined up right, I guess.”

“I bet it was *her* fault. She ruined my chances forever.”

“Too poor and drunk and sad.”

“I’d never want to inflict myself on a child.”

“Just look at me.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She does look at you. There is no pity or disgust or whatever other terrible thing you expected in her gaze. Just a quiet acknowledgment.

EMPATHY — To her, you look just like a father she once knew. This only makes her more inclined to agree with you.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “…When I first got pregnant with the boys,” she says quietly, returning to her work, “I was uneasy. Wondered if it was… right to bring them into this world. Into *our* arms…”

PAIN THRESHOLD — A rare pang wracks her. She does not like to think about these things.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “I never did decide one way or another. I just knew what I wanted, and so I went ahead with it. *We* went ahead with it. And then again with Lily, even though…”

EMPATHY — Even though at heart she knew, by then, how it would all end.

SHIVERS — Five years ago, a man stands on the boardwalk where the corpse of a different drunken husband will one day be discovered. Bottle still clutched tightly in his hand, he fights the urge to throw himself into the dark water. He wins the battle today, but he will ultimately lose the war.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “However things turned out for you, I’m sure you had your reasons.” She sighs, and cuts a strand of the net with the tip of her knife, then ties it back together. “Though that probably sounds shallow, coming from me.”

“A little, yeah.”

“Not at all.”

“Can I ask you something?”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Go ahead.”

“Do you regret having kids?”

“Uh… never mind.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She smiles, and there’s an uncharacteristic sadness in the lines around her eyes.

“No,” she says softly. “Never once.”

EMPATHY — She wonders if this is proof of her own selfishness.

It isn’t the children she regrets. It’s the world that she brought them into.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Now that they’re here, all we can do is love them. And you’ve got plenty of love in you for the children, it seems. That’s more than a lot of fathers could say…” She sighs, her eyes shadowed and sunken. “Oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say anymore.”

DRAMA — But you know what *you* would like to say, sire. Go ahead. Now’s your moment!

REACTION SPEED — No, it really isn’t. Please don’t push your luck.

“Lilienne…”

Don’t push your luck.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She turns to you, expression inscrutable with the light of the setting sun behind her. “Yes?”

“Do you think *we* could ever… try again?”

“Do you think you could ever see *me* as… a father?”

“Do you think there’s any hope in this world for any of us?”

“Do you think the children will ever forgive us?”

“Do you think I’m… a good man?”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She looks at you, her chin no longer held high, a tired slump in her shoulders and something searching in her eye. Her hands are all tangled in webs of fragile knots.

“I think…” she says slowly, evenly, “you’re looking for something that I can’t give you.”

-1 MORALE

“Okay. Well. Khm. Right.”

“What the hell does *that* mean?”

“That’s not really what I asked…”

Say nothing.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “I know what you’re asking,” Lilienne says frankly. “I’m just not so sure that *you* do…”

EMPATHY — For love.

RHETORIC — For vindication.

INLAND EMPIRE — For a lifeline.

VOLITION — For a future.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — Lilienne sighs, watching the twins in the distance, starting the long march home from the beach before dark. “At some point, Harry, you’re going to have to be okay with your life.”

SHIVERS — You have twenty two years left to reach that point.

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 17/?

Prev | Next

Jason woke up with the feeling of wrongness deep in his chest (core).

Rage, rage, rage.

Jason knew he had to calm down, but he couldn’t. He knew; he just knew someone uninvited was in his haunt. Jason sneered; they could harm his family. He called a bit of ectoplasm in his hands and got the knife from under his pillow.

Whoever had decided to invade his haunt was going to regret it.

Jason opened his door in time to see Jazz and Danny leave their rooms, their eyes glowing. (If he had looked in a mirror, Jason would’ve noticed his eyes were glowing, too.)

Jazz held a green and white staff while Danny held a ball of glowing ice. That wouldn’t do.

“Danny, stay here with your sister.”

“Jason, I’m not staying here while we’re under attack,” Jazz said.

“No, not you, with Ellie,” Jason knew he needed all the help he could get; there were too many invaders in his haunt. “Danny, if anyone either than me or Jazz come in, leave with Ellie.”

Danny scowled, angry.

“What, no! I can help.”

“Danny, I won’t be able to fight as well if you’re in danger. I need you to be safe, or I’ll be distracted. Just, please, listen to what I say.”

Danny pouted and crossed his arms. He stared into Jason’s eyes.

“Fine, but I don’t like it.”

“Thanks, chum.”

Jason and Jazz went out and looked into the woods that surrounded their house. They didn’t see anyone, but they knew the intruders were there. Jazz and Jason stared at each other before nodding and going in their direction. Splitting up wasn’t ideal, but the other could still get the children out if one fell.

Jason brought up an ectoplasm ball to his hand again. He looked around but saw no one.

It was years of experience that had him dodging. Soon he was being attacked.

Jason fought back and noticed that he knew the fighting style. It was the League of Assassins. Fuck.

Why were they here? He had left the League a while ago. Were they here because he had left the League? In the end, it didn’t matter. He had to get them away from his family, even if it meant killing them.

Jason fought hard, incapacitating three, but five more showed up. Even with his ghostly powers, he had trouble fighting this many opponents who knew what they were doing. They dodged ectoblasts and took his intangibility in strides. He hoped Jazz was doing okay. Just as he was about to attack again, a woman’s voice rang out, “Enough!”

Jason groaned. Talia Al Ghul stepped out of the shadows wearing a black body suit. She had a sword strapped on her back, a gun on her side, and knives strapped on her thighs.

“Talia,” Jason acknowledged, resigned. He would have to move. Fuck, Talia would never stop hunting him. Why was she even here? She hadn’t contacted him when he was in Gotham (he would never admit how much that hurt.), and now that he wants to leave his past behind, she shows up.

“Now, habibi, is that any way to greet your mother?”

Jason gritted his teeth because she was right. She gave birth to a new him (via Lazarus pit), cared for him during his catatonic stage, and taught him how to walk, talk, and fight. In every sense of the word, Talia was a mother to Jason. A fucked up, assassin mother, but a mother nonetheless. A mother who abandoned him in Gotham after his failure.

Jason was taken out of his musings when he heard Jazz being dragged, loudly by her part, through the woods.

“I approve of her, habibi; she’s a strong fighter.”

“Who are you people? Let me go, now!”

Jazz had trouble breaking free from the assassins holding her, even with her augmented strength. (Jason noticed it was the bigger, muscley ones holding her down…and there were four of them.)

“Let her go, Talia.”

Talia nodded toward the assassins, and they quickly let Jazz loose. Jazz came to Jason’s side, staff ready to attack.

“Do you know these people, Jason?”

“Jazz, meet Talia, my assassin mom. Talia, meet my sister, Jazz.”

“Hmm,” Talia hummed, “are you going to invite me to your place, habibi?”

No, Jason wanted to say, but if Talia was here, she knew about Danny and Ellie. She already confirmed she knew about Jazz. Besides, Jason needed to know what Talia wanted and why she was suddenly back in Jason’s life.

“They stay,” Jason pointed vaguely toward the assassins. He didn’t want them anywhere near the kids.

Talia gave a hand gesture, and the assassins melted into the shadows. Jason could still feel them in his haunt.

The walk back to the house was silent. Jason was hyperaware of the intruders in his haunt and of Talia walking by him. He couldn’t help but imagine the worse. Why was Talia here? She didn’t seem surprised by his powers. Was it because she was good at hiding her emotions, or was it because she knew? Did she know about Danny’s power? Ellie?

Sometimes he understood Bruce’s need to know everything and make plans around them. Then when things come back to bite in the ass, at least there are ways to combat it.

Jason sat down in one of the chairs when they reached the house. He looked at Talia and gestured toward the other chair. No way in hell he was letting her in the house.

“I’m going to check on the children so you two can talk. Excuse me.”

Jazz entered the house.

Talia raised an eyebrow toward Jason. Jason crossed his arms. He knew Talia wanted to go in the house, too. He refused. She sighed and sat on the chair opposite him.

“What are you doing here, Talia? Hell, why did you even look for me? I left the League a while ago, and you didn’t care to contact me when I was in Gotham.”

“Your father is worried about you.”

“Oh, so now you’re Bruce’s messenger? When did he even contact you?”

“My Beloved didn’t contact me. It was Damian.”

Jason was surprised. He hadn’t had much contact with the newest Robin. He had only seen Damian in passing in the League, and the Bat and his birds kept the kid as far away as they could from Jason. He didn’t blame them after what he had done to Tim in his green-tinged raging mind.  

“Why would Damian care if I’m gone?”

“Your departure has…unsettled your father and family.”

Jason snorted.

“What, they’re waiting to hear news how the black sheep of the Bat Family has gone on another killing spree?”

Talia’s expression could almost be described as soft.

“Your father misses you.”

“He misses a boy that died. He misses having me under his thumb, not me. Not this Jason Todd.”

Silence reigned for a few moments.

“Come back with me. I can protect you and your son. I can keep Jasmine and Danielle safe.”

Jason sneered, “You mean so you can have new weapons to use? What will you do, brainwash my son like you brainwashed me? Are you going to keep Ellie and Jazz under your control? Give us over to Ra’s?”

“All your actions were your own, habibi.”

Jason turned away from Talia and stared into the woods. Somehow, he was able to see the assassins this time around. (He didn’t know his eyes were glowing. He didn’t know Talia was watching his eyes with interest.)

“I don’t want my family in that environment. Danny deserves to be a child, not a weapon.”

Talia inclined her head, “If that’s what you wish, Jason. I only wanted to give you the option.”

Talia rose from her seat, “You won’t tell Bruce, will you?”

Talia smiled, “No, habibi. Your father won’t learn of your location from me. You must know, though, that Bruce will learn sooner or later of your whereabouts. He won’t stop looking.”

“I think once he finds out I’m not killing people, he’ll stop looking for his greatest failure,” Jason traced his scar.

Talia looked up sharply, following Jason’s finger.

“Did Bruce do that?”

Jason’s silence spoke volumes.

“Bruce rarely acts foolishly, but he makes grave mistakes when it happens. Like letting that clown live.”

Jason’s Adam’s apple bobbed at the mention of his murderer.

“Please, don’t tell him.”

“Your secret is safe with me. Do expect me to keep in touch, though.”

Jason nodded, knowing there was no point in discouraging Talia Al Ghul. She gave him a peck on his cheeks and walked into the woods.

____

Talia raised her hand to halt her assassins. She was being followed.

“Show yourself.”

A little boy with black hair and glowing green eyes suddenly appeared before her. He was sneering.

“Hello, Daniel.”

“It’s Danny. You better not hurt my daddy, or I’ll make you regret it.”

Daniel’s eyes glowed stronger with the emotions behind them.

“I wouldn’t hurt my son.”

“Parents hurt their children all the time,” Daniel balled his little fists.

Hmm, interesting reaction.

Talia approached the little boy and put her hand on his shoulder. His little fists started glowing Lazarus green.

“Jason has a strong and precious son. I’m glad that my son has found you, little one. He needs more love than his father, or I can ever give him. Thank you.”

Little fists unclenched in surprise.

“I won’t call you ‘grandmother’ if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

Talia smiled, “I don’t expect you to.”

Then she disappeared into the night.

____

Damian picked up his phone.

“Mother,” he greeted.

“Damian. Jason is fine. He doesn’t want to be found by your father and his little brood. I won’t tell you where he is; he’s been betrayed by his parents more than enough.”

Before he could answer, she hung up.

“Ugh,” he yelled, throwing his phone against the wall and breaking it.

“Baby bat, what’s wrong?”

Richard walked into Damian’s room. He was visiting the family with little Mar’i.

Damian hesitated momentarily before confessing, “I asked mother to look for Todd. She found him but refused to tell me where he is.”

Richard exhaled sharply.

“Did she tell you anything?”

“Just that he’s fine and doesn’t want to be found,” Damian answered bitterly. He never thought his mother would do this to him.

“She said enough parents have betrayed Todd. I didn’t even know she viewed herself as Todd’s parent.”

Why had she never mentioned it? Damian hadn’t seen Todd many times in the League, and he had been behind Talia the two or three times he had. Grandfather would sometimes complain about his mother’s pet project, but Damian would have never imagined that his mother saw Todd as a son.

His brother had been kept from him by both of his parents. He wondered how different things would’ve been if he had met Jason in the League.

Richard sat by Damian, “What’s wrong, Dami?”

“Do you think father will ever stop feeling bad if Todd never returns?”

“He’ll come back. If not, we’ll find him and tell him how much we miss him.”

“But if he doesn’t want to come back, what then?”

Richard didn’t have an answer.

@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks

[calliesmemes]

SENTENCE STARTERS FOR SWIFTIES

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS pulled from the lyrics of Taylor Swift’s discography. (This post includes Reputation, Speak Now, Lover, and Debut)

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

❛ I knew he was a killer the first time I saw him. ❜

❛ I see how this is going to go. ❜

❛ Touch me and you’ll never be alone. ❜

❛ Are you ready for it? ❜

❛ I’ve got some big enemies. ❜

❛ I’m one call away, whenever you need me. ❜

❛ I don’t wanna hurt you. ❜

❛ You gotta leave before you get left. ❜

❛ For you, I would fall from grace. ❜

❛ My reputation’s never been worse. ❜

❛ I don’t like your little games. ❜

❛ I rose up from the dead; I do it all the time. ❜

❛ All I think about is karma. ❜

❛ I’m yours to keep and yours to lose. ❜

❛ You make me jealous. ❜

❛ You ruined my life by not being mine. ❜

❛ You’re gorgeous. ❜

❛ It was the best of times, the worst of times. ❜

❛ I’m better off being alone. ❜

❛ You are the one I have been waiting for. ❜

❛ I don’t want you like a best friend. ❜

❛ Why’d you have to rain on my parade? ❜

❛ Did you think I wouldn’t hear all the things you said about me? ❜

❛ I brought a knife to a gun fight. ❜

❛ I’m doing better than I ever was. ❜

❛ You love yourself more than you could ever love me. ❜

❛ There’s no time for tears. ❜

❛ I’m just sitting here planning my revenge. ❜

❛ I don’t know what I want, so don’t ask me. ❜

❛ I’m just a girl trying to find a place in this world. ❜

❛ I’m feeling lucky today. ❜

❛ I start fights ‘cause I need to feel something. ❜

❛ Every smile you fake is so condescending. ❜

❛ I’ve got nowhere else to go. ❜

❛ No one notices until it’s too late. ❜

❛ It’s hard to make conversation when you’re taking my breath away. ❜

❛ You shouldn’t be begging for forgiveness at my feet. ❜

❛ Was it worth it? ❜

❛ I dare you to kiss me. ❜

❛ Baby, is something wrong? ❜

❛ I don’t wanna live without you. ❜

❛ I’m only me when I’m with you. ❜

❛ You are everything to me. ❜

❛ You are the best thing that’s ever been mine. ❜

❛ I’m captivated by you. ❜

❛ I’m so glad you’ve made time to see me. ❜

❛ How’s life? Tell me, how’s your family? ❜

❛ I’m sorry for that night. ❜

❛ You’re not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl. ❜

❛ You need to hear me out. ❜

❛ Your time is running out. ❜

❛ My mother accused me of losing my mind. ❜

You made a rebel out of a careless man’s careful daughter. ❜

❛ Why you gotta be so mean? ❜

❛ You have pointed out my flaws again, as if I don’t already see them. ❜

❛ I’ll never impress you. ❜

❛ I just wanna feel okay again. ❜

❛ The story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now. ❜

❛ Why are we pretending this is nothing? ❜

❛ Don’t you ever grow up, just stay this little. ❜

❛ Everything I have is someday gonna be gone. ❜

❛ Have we met? ❜

❛ It was enchanting to meet you. ❜

❛ Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did. ❜

❛ I underestimated just who I was dealing with. ❜

❛ There is nothing that I do better than revenge. ❜

❛ Sophistication isn’t what you wear or who you know. ❜

❛ Minds change like the weather. ❜

❛ I can’t trust anything now. ❜

❛ I won’t lose you again. ❜

❛ Something’s gone terribly wrong. ❜

❛ It was the end of a decade, but the start of an age. ❜

❛ One day, we will be remembered. ❜

❛ People look at me like I’m a monster. ❜

❛ Promise me that you’ll stand by me forever. ❜

❛ I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you. ❜

❛ People throw rocks at things that shine. ❜

❛ My heart is yours. ❜

❛ You will never learn your lesson. ❜

❛ Don’t forget about me. ❜

❛ Just breathe, just relax, it’ll be okay. ❜

❛ This could break my heart or bring it back to life. ❜

❛ I’ve been watching you for ages. ❜

❛ Once, I had an empire in a golden age. ❜

❛ I used to be great. ❜

❛ I will just let you down. ❜

❛ Power went to my head. ❜

❛ You taught me some hard lessons. ❜

❛ I'm always waiting for you. ❜

❛ This is our place, we make the rules. ❜

❛ There’s a mysterious way about you. ❜

❛ I'd be a fearless leader. ❜

❛ If I was a man, then I’d be the man. ❜

❛ I’m ready for combat. ❜

❛ Can you see right through me? ❜

❛ All of my enemies started out friends. ❜

❛ I am an architect. ❜

❛ You know I adore you. ❜

❛ American glory faded before me. ❜

❛ Now I’m feeling hopeless. ❜

❛ You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. ❜

❛ My team is losing. ❜

❛ You are the only one who seems to care. ❜

❛ I’m feeling helpless. ❜

❛ The storm is coming. ❜

❛ I don’t really wanna fight. ❜

❛ I’d marry you with paper rings. ❜

❛ Darling, you’re the one I want. ❜

❛ I hope I never lose you. ❜

❛ I thought you were leading me on. ❜

❛ I can’t pretend that it’s okay when it’s not. ❜

❛ I see you everywhere. ❜

❛ I love my hometown. ❜

❛ All the rumors are true. ❜

❛ Soon, you’ll get better. ❜

[thesixthcavalier]

A Story Snippet

The saloon was a raucous and rowdy affair this night, full of gamblers and drinkers and song and dance. Pat and Meg drifted between the tables, twisting and twirling, depositing drinks, taking cash, and always just out of reach of the grasping, drunken hands of those with too little sense. The big table in the corner was the sight of the evening’s most potent battle, a field of carnage between the six people seated there. Coins and writs of payment lay strewn and crumpled over the pockmarked surface, a well thumbed deck of cards near the center. Every eye was shifting, suspicious, watching for the tell tale sign of a cheat, if only to distract everyone else while they drew an ace from their sleeve. 

But that wasn’t where the commotion started. No one got punchy over a pot that big, it was too much, too dangerous. You got angry with that much money on the line and someone winds up with a knife in the ribs. Can’t spend much when you’re in a casket. No, the commotion came from the bar, from the broad man that sat at the far end. He’d been spending the entire night trying to drown his sorrows in a full bottle of whiskey. Well, it had been full when he’d started. Now it was just about empty, and he was shaking with the kind of barely suppressed fury that always portends trouble. 

Val sat at her usual table, her own drink untouched. She never drank when she was on the job, and while she hadn’t expected to be working tonight, it was clear she was about to. She’d been watching the man since he first came in, something about his face had been familiar, and the more she watched, the more she knew what it was. So the last five minutes had been spent quietly musing, revolver in hand as her thumb grazed back and forth across the cylinder. She wasn’t sure what would happen here tonight, but it wasn’t going to be clean, or easy. 

The man had finally had enough. His demons had gotten to him, and he snarled as he reached for the bottle again, too drunk to see it between it’s twin cousins swimming atop the bar. He shoved it away rather than brought it close, and it went sailing, smashing against the floor. There was barely anything left to spill, but whether it was the lost booze or the sound that set him off, no one would be able to say. But he was like a barrel of gunpowder set to flame, roaring with explosive fury as he stood from his seat and slammed his hands against the bar. 

The music ground to a halt, the card players stalled their game, even the ever mobile ladies suddenly found themselves stopped dead. “I think perhaps you’ve had enough. Maybe it’s time to have a lie down, sleep it off,” Jonah said from behind the bar. He was a burly man too, large and well built, but gentle and kind. He would sooner avoid a fight than risk one, and he did his damndest now to see to that, a simple, iron key laid on the bar. “On the house,” Jonah rumbled. And then all hell broke loose.

The man roared again and lunged, Jonah pushed away from the bar, but not nearly quick enough before the stranger had him by the lapels and dragged him forward, slamming him against the bar. There was a flash of steel, a knife rising in the air, aiming for the barman’s throat. Then the explosive roar of gunfire and the knife went flying, the stranger grasping at his now bleeding hand as rage warred with confusion on his drunken visage. His eyes swung this way and that, seeking his next target, as Val kicked the chair away from herself, already standing, gun smoking. 

“Right here,” she said, voice a low drawl, completely unfazed and unconcerned, though there was a hint of deadly malice in her amber eyes, the sort of thing this stranger was too drunk to notice, and probably too foolish to properly consider. Everyone stared in silence at the two, and Val and the stranger simply stared at each other as the woman kept her gun trained on the man, her tail snapping back and forth behind her like an agitated snake. “You’re not just some troubled fool who drank away his cash. You’re Nathan Krull, the outlaw. That’s right ain’t it?” Val asked, eyes narrowed. 

The stranger, Nathan, snarled again. “I am. And if you know who I am then you ought to know better than to pick a fight. I’ve met plenty of bounty hunters. Killed plenty of’em,” Nathan said with a wicked, twisted grin. He looked like a beast, a feral thing just waiting for the first sign of weakness, the first opportunity to strike. 

“Never met me before,” Val replied, cool and even. “And I never met you personally. But I met your type. Angry. Sullen. Whole world is either your playground or your prison, which depends on the day. I’m thinking prison today, hmm? Lost a score maybe? Someone swiped the stash you thought was hidden so well? Whatever it is I don’t much care. Way I see it, your choices are to simmer down and come with me, and we can maybe save your hand. Or I can drop you now, save myself some trouble. But you’re not worth as much as a corpse, so I would prefer the former.” 

There was a deadly stillness in the air, a silence that hung over the whole place like a shroud. No one dared to move, most didn’t dare to breathe as the reality of the situation settled on them. The understanding that in their midst was a deadly killer with more souls taken than the majority of people even meet in their lives. And she was staring down a man rumored to be almost as deadly. 

He laughed at that, a great, uproarious laugh that could have been full of mirth and good humor on a better day, but here seemed dark and twisted, like a sour version of something sweet. It had all the cadence of a proper laugh, but it was off somehow in a way you couldn’t really explain. “You think just cause you got the draw on me you’ve won? I wager I can get across this floor and cave your skull in before you fire two more shots. Are you really so sure you can put me down with a single bullet?” Nathan snarled, baring his teeth as he turned to face his opponent more squarely now, preparing to charge. 

Val grimaced and, without taking her eyes off the man, reached out to pick up her drink, the dark bourbon shifting ever so slightly in the glass. “Are you so sure you can take another step before I do?” she asked quietly. “I’m giving you this one final chance. Take a moment. Think about it. I’m gonna have my drink, and when I’m done, you’re either surrendering, or you’re dead.” She raised the glass to her lips, but didn’t drink. Val never drank while she was on the job. 

Nathan charged. He moved with speed that seemed to defy his hulking frame, but without cunning. His every crime had been that of extreme brutality, of violence and unquestioned pain. He was a charging bull, a roaring drake, a bumbling ox. Val sent her glass flying with a flick of the wrist, and in the same motion she was firing, the crack and bang of her revolver like thunder, like the slamming of a forge hammer against burning steel. Even as the cylinder spun and sent hot lead across the room, the woman was moving, just a few unhurried steps to the side as Nathan batted her glass out of the air, the spray of alcohol combined with his own inebriation to make his aim poor. 

Bullets slammed into the man’s arms and chest, Val hooked a foot against the leg of her chair, now in reach again, and kicked, sending it tumbling forward. It was enough to trip him up, to send the feared outlaw stumbling and tumbling until he crashed against the wall. Bloody and dazed, he was almost certainly down for the count. But you could never be too careful with a wild animal. The last bullet in the revolver sailed into Nathan Krull’s skull, and a moment later the light went out of his eyes. Val sighed, cracking open her gun and dropping the spent brass to the floor. “Waste of good bourbon and a living bounty. If you weren’t dead I’d kill you for that,” she muttered, reloading the weapon with deliberate motions, slender fingers drawing bullets from her belt and sliding them into each chamber before the cylinder clicked back into the place, and the gun went to the holster. 

Val picked up her chair and righted it, setting it back down in front of the table and taking her seat again. “I’m in need of another drink. Seems I dropped mine,” she called out, her words seeming to echo in the silence of the still shocked saloon. No one moved yet, but they would. Shortly someone would bolt for the door, and the sheriff would be on the way. Val fished in a pocket and found the flyer with Krull’s face on it, setting it on the table, then she found her cigarettes and put one to her mouth, a snap of the fingers producing a brief flame that set it alight. Yes the sheriff would be here soon, and he’d have questions, and there’d be talking and hand wringing and bounty negotiation. She sure hoped she got that drink before then. Val never drank when she was on the job, but she always drank when dealing with the local law. They were worth it. 

[elpida]

If My Muse was dying in Your Muse’s arms, what would your muse tell mine? ( u know i had to do it bestie )

"cass.." eris started to speak, though what should've been more telling was the clink of her knife as it hit the floor. they'd been attacked and she had not expected it, whether his father sent these men or what, she had no ide abut it was calculated, planned... around them lay three dead bodies and eris stood in the centre of them.

she'd seemed fine, there'd been two guns, one had fired twice but it hadn't hit her, or so she thought. she felt it now, the tear of her flesh, the pull, the burn, the wheeze of air fighting to fill her lungs. eris had looked down at herself and saw the thick crimson spreading through her jumper quickly. in seconds it'd soaked the front of her jumper. "cassius." she repeated, lifting her head and looking back up to him. the colour was draining from her face so quickly.

she knew that when her knee's gave in, and they did, that he'd catch her, that he'd provide her with the safe haven of his arms cradling her head. there it was, the comfort she'd longed for. maybe she never realised it, but as little as she feared it, dying in his arms seemed the right was to go. "listen to— listen to me." eris knew she was dying. she could barely find strength but with all that she had, she forced her hand to raise and allow her fingers to brush along his upper cheek. if she was dying here then what would be would be but she'd die in a specific shade and sea of blue. quite right too.

"i'm not scared, i'm not in pain so don't you.. don't you for a minute be scared of what is about to happen." she paused. "everybody goes cass.. i'm just.." she coughed, a weak attempt but it brought blood to her lips. "i'm sorry i dont get more time with you. we got such little time and i.. god i should have told you how much i valued every.. every single minute."

"i want you to know that you are so easy to love." love. she loved him, god damn she loved him. "i didn't think i knew what it was but i do, i do because of you and i want you.. i really want you to find someone that'll give you all the love in the world okay? i was never easy to love and i never showed it like i should have but cass? you deserver to grow old with someone." it just wouldn't be her.

her breathing was getting worse, weaker.. and eris, his full of life, tough and nails eris amorello, was pale. "you know.. the– the reason i trusted you to touch me back when.. when we first met? i saw you.. it's so.." she huffed again but it turned into spluttering coughs before calming to a wheeze again. "it's silly, i saw you petting a dog...i thought how can someone who'd nice to dogs be mean right? how could their hands do.. do me harm?" she couldn't keep her hand up on his cheek, it was trembling, wavering. "i loved e— every minute or knowing you, i loved every moment of my life when it was with you and i love–.. i love" the words were choking up. "i love..." hazelnut eyes stared up and they never shut, she simply died in his arms, bleeding out from a bullet wound that tore her to shreds.. staring up to her favourite colour.

[irresistiibles]

okay okay!! hello here is a real quick plotting/starter call! i’ve got blurbs for all my characters so toss this a like to plot or if you just want to get some stuff started feel free to  reply with who you want things for/from. please only request THREE STARTERS per mun because otherwise i just will not have time for everything. in terms of pre plot drop things i do wanna keep some chill vibe and am fine doubling up on threads but i will probably pick and choose stuff to transition based on muse. feel free to transition any of our stuff as you see fit!

AMBER

she’s fighting more than she should that’s for sure. she’s good with a bow and arrow, but idk how much that’ll do here. honestly i think she could do well with a gun if someone just gave her one. will try and help people where she can. open to injury

ASAMI SATO

she can handle herself but boy is she tired of fighting. she’s always got a few weapons on her so she’s managing but she’s mostly trying to make sure her and her girlfriend are safe

BINX CHOPPLEY 

fae are hard to fully kill in her world so she’s not too stressed. she’s small has a crossbow, and is going for it. will mostly be trying to help people in need and get them to nice quiet places

BLUE SARGENT

she is swearing that she’s never going out again. she’s got a pocket knife and spite to get her by, but realistically blue i gonna try and find somewhere to camp out.

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

not built for this at all! he is a nice guy with asthma pls he is so screwed. open to getting him killed to get his memroies back so if you want a plot involving that hit me up

CHIHIRO OGINO

idk how much i’ll get chichiro involved in this. realistically she’s been up and lost in a far corner of the white house for most of the night. if she does run into monsters she is unfortunately the type to try and talk her way out of a situation, but girl does know how to run if needed, which is what she’ll be doing.

CORALINE

scared, tired of this sort of thing, probably trying to get out of there, and when that doesn’t work is going to be smart and board herself up in a room somewhere

EDWARD ELRIC

honestly he’s more comfortable fighting than dancing. worried about winry and al but also just everyone else. he’ll be on the helpful end of things and trying not to act too relieved to be back to something he’s good at

ENTRAPTA

a freak she’s having fun. she wants some flesh samples of monsters if possible. they should be afraid of her, not the other way around.

ESTHER MCKINNON 

man i don’t even know if she brought her wand she’s trying to find the fam and drag their aggressive asses to a quiet corner while hopefully not getting knocked out along the way. open to injury

GLINDA UPLAND 

not happy! she was having a good night!! and everything always gets ruined!! back to the pink bubble it is. will try and yank someone else in there but her magic has no rules to it so who knows if that’s even possible lmao

JI EUN TAK

unhappy and scared, especially cause she does not remember her own supernatural experiences. will try and hide and pull people out of danger if possible. she is the protective sort but also just a normal gal so could get herself hurt trying to help someone else.

JIN LING

tipsy at the wrong time!! able to fight luckily but he feels less confident without fairy and is really missing his dog. stressed! very stressed but stubborn and will be fighting.

KYOSHI

i kinda wanna bring some of her memories back without killing her so some big fighting for her definitely open to trying to help people or witnessing someone dying (cause that would trigger her memories lmao) definitely feel free to hit me up!

LILY EVANS

drunk, tired of shit happening to her, flinging spells around a little recklessly but doing what she has to do to stay safe.

MIANMIAN

she can fight but she doesn’t like doing it. she is much more comfortable behind people as i figure she got more comfortable night hunting alone later in life she’s definitely out of her comfort zone and a little freaked out

NIE HUAISANG

this man does know how to run and hide and stay safe when needed even if he doesn’t show it. not above tripping someone to get away safely. worried about himself and his brother and that’s it everyone else can rot for all he cares

RITA SKEETER

also will trip people to get away safely lmao. honestly she can turn into a bug and hide pretty easily so i’m open to stuff with her but i don’t think she’ll be doing too much

SCARAMOUCHE

horrible puppet man is amused by all of this he’s the worst. may purposely lead people into danger while claiming to take them to safety because he’s the absolute worst!! or is just taking advantage of the chaos to attack people. i would not recommend approaching.

SHANG QINGHUA

he can fight! a little! he swears! but he’s drunk and has already had such a night he is attempting to get help and hide immediately. will shamelessly cling to anyone who seems like they can protect him

SHI QINGXUAN

they’re a little disappointed things went south but qingxuan can take care of herself. if she took a bottle from the bar in the chaos that’s her business. another one who doesn’t love fighting, and is nervous, but capable enough with monsters just like this luckily

TOPH BEIFONG

honestly! super excited loves a good fight this is so much better than some fancy lame dance! will protect people if the opportunity is available but is more focused on just knocking some monsters around

VICTOR NIKIFOROV

hiding. just hiding. are you kidding me? this is just a normal dude give him a break

ZAGREUS

unfortunately zagreus thinks fighting is fun and will be trying to keep track ofhow many monsters he can take out. if you want someone way too upbeat given the situation he’s your guy

ZHONGLI

another immortal not too worried about getting hurt. he’s more of the helpful sort though, and can create pretty powerful shields, and will do so to get people out of danger as needed. not fighting so much since he’s retired from that, but protection is definitely available from him.

[annaphoenix1994]

Masterlist:

When All is Lost

Mia and Big John searched the home of the abandoned Allen house with haste. To her surprise, Ella was not there. Traces were, but her little girl wasn't. She moved the pillow and blanket on the floor to reveal a bloodstain as she stood in the entryway of the house, her heart dropping as he assumed the worst. "That's not hers," Big John assured his little sister. "Happened a year ago -- that Cunningham boy was babysitting and the kid fell from the banister." 

"Jesus." 

"LJ said it was an accident when he got called to the site, although nobody wanted to think it was." 

"I can understand why. People want to put the blame on somebody," Mia shook her head. "You know, Michael told me that Corey was his son -- the one that I caught in the house." 

"I'd believe it." 

"W-Why?" 

"His mom was a patient at Smith's Grove. Crazy as hell to say the least. The boy looks just like him. You know as well as I do that you thought the same thing when you saw him." 

She did. Suspected it, even, but couldn't wrap her head around the fact. Michael was so emotionally and physically unavailable when she started seeing him as her patient and couldn't think of how a scenario for him appeared where conceiving a child was the topic. 

The siblings shared a look of dread, "Why did he send us here if Ella isn't even here?" She asked. 

"Maybe shewashere..." 

Mia looked down at her phone - a text message from an unsaved number. 

'327 Mill's End Road. Ella is here. She and Michael are fighting'

"We need to go!" 

*

Michael thrashed over the kitchen island as he tried to free himself. The blades ripped his hands as he pulled them. Laurie used the momentum of her body to tip the refrigerator and thrust it forward, the heavy appliance crashing onto Michael's legs, locking him in place. Laurie moved back the drawer and pulled outthatknife - the same knife Allyson had used in her fight with Michael, the same one Laurie used to chop up fruit for her smoothies.

She grabbed the handle with both hands and raised it over her head as she straddled him, her face trembling with fury as she finally had him withered to her touch. It was all finally happening - she had him. Laurie's hands clenched the handle, securing it in her grip. And then she brought it down like a piledriver. Michael's rib fractured as the blade speared his body. He twisted unnaturally, and air hissed awfully from his punctured lung as Laurie slowly drew the knife from his chest, making him feel every single moment of the pain.

She took a deep breath, the redemption triumph tune in her head musing out the cries of Ella from the pantry. She watched the entire thing, unaware that the man behind the mask was her father. She thought the masked man was scary, but the old woman that had been holding her against her will was scarier. 

She removed the knife from Michael's torso, bringing it up to her face to look at the blood,hisblood, that coated the stainless steel. She needed to know he was just a real man, but she also needed to besurethat it was Michael she was about to kill. "I've run from you. I've chased you. I've tried to contain you, tried to even forgive you," She said to him, holding the knife to his throat, pressing the blade against his carotid artery. "I thought maybe you were the boogeyman. But no. You're just a man who's about to stop breathing." She said, her other hand curling under the edge of the mask, preparing to rip it from his head - a trophy for her successful hunt. 

CLICK!

Laurie stopped immediately, knowing that whatever force she had was no match to one of a gun. 

Corey. 

He spit the remaining blood from his mouth, aiming his gun, Laurie's gun, at her - right between the eyes. "Drop it." He demanded. 

She did as she was told, facing her palms toward him. "I sat and dwelled on this from the beginning," He began, stepping closer to her. "A part of me didn't want to do it because I was afraid of the outcome. Now, that other part of me is glad that I did because I wouldn't have gotten the answers I knew I needed." 

"Yeah? And what answer is that?" 

"You already know." 

She shook her head, "I don't." 

"Step away from my father and let him go." 

Laurie was astonished. Stricken, even.Father?"There's two of you?" She scoffed. 

"About to be just one if I don't get answers of my own," Mia demanded as she joined in on the standoff, her gun pointing at Corey's head. He softened for her, knowing she had him at her grasp. "And you - you better start talking and tell me where my daughter is before I don't think twice is blowing a hole through you." She sneered at Laurie. 

Laurie pointed at the walk-in hesitantly, knowing her fate was sure to follow after Mia found Ella. She huffed, frowning down at Michael as he was watching her, his head straining to look over his torso as he watched Mia move from one end of the room to the other, opening the door to the walk-in, seeing her daughter bound by her wrists and ankles as well as a fabric cloth stuffing her mouth. She broke out in tears while a strike of anger filled Michael's chest. He was going to be sure he killed Laurie slowly, making her regret even the thought of taking Ella from him.

But he had to free himself first. He knew he couldn't jerk his hands from the knives unless he wanted them ripped in half. 

"You better pray she's okay." Mia warned as she dropped to her knees, holding Ella against her chest as she used the nearby knife on the counter to cut the ties free and removed the cloth from her mouth. She cried as the image was not only foul, but it reminded her of how she was bound when she was taken into Laurie's custody just four years prior. "Baby? Baby? Mommy's here, okay," She cried, kissing the top of her head. "Mommy's here." She then pointed towards Big John. "Go to uncle John, okay? We're going to take you home." 

Ella nodded as Mia stood to her feet, ensuring Ella could walk freely before telling Corey to move out of Ella's way. "You go with him." She said to Corey. 

He knew she was possibly saving him for Michael's grasp. 

And he was terrified at the thought. 

She then aimed the gun back at Laurie, "Give me your phone. Now." 

"I-I don't have it." 

Why are the cops taking such a long time?!

She then pulled out her own phone, dialing the three-digit number herself. 

"9-1-1."

"I just heard shots coming from a house. 327 Mill's Brook Road. I think she has an intruder." 

"Are you a resident, ma'am?" 

"No." She said softly before hanging up, tucking her phone back into her pocket. 

"You can't be serious." Laurie scoffed. 

"Dead fucking serious." She replied, curling her index finger around the trigger before squeezing it, the bullet retreating from the chamber. Mia had no set aim on her, but she just wanted the satisfaction of shooting Laurie herself. 

She dropped to the floor, whimpering in pain as it was only Michael and Mia left in the house. She cried, darting to the island and placing her hands on his chest. She lifted the mask from his head, kissing his lips before continuing to examine his torso for any hidden wounds, gasping as she saw the stab wound in his chest. He looked at her with his dark eyes, holding no ounce of pain as she knew he was hurting, but he was The Shape - and The Shape felt no pain. 

She then delicately traced her fingers on his hands, gasping at how the blades penetrated his skin so effortlessly. "Just pull them out," He groaned, frowning at the heartbreak in her eyes. "Just pull it out." 

"I-I can't, Michael," She cried. "I don't want to hurt you even more." 

"You just shot someone, Mia," He reminded. "It won't hurt you to pull these from my hands. Just do it." 

She sighed, looking at the differences between the two knives - one was a chef's knife about eight inches in length with a smooth edge while the other was a standard duty knife with jagged teeth. And it was going to hurt. She chose to remove the chef's knife first as she hoped the smooth edge would come easily out of his hand. She mentally counted to three before using forced momentum to pull the knife from his hand. He did nothing out of a reaction and it shocked her. She then sat the knife aside to prepare to remove the other knife when Michael sat up in a fluid-like motion. 

She then moved to the refrigerator, pressing her back against it to push it away from Michael's leg, but it was too heavy. She groaned in frustration before feeling a pair of hands help her with the move. Corey. 

"Let me help you." He grunted, pivoting the fridge to where it was now standing upright. He was shocked as he saw Michael's true face, the men locking eyes in primal instinct. 

He's just a man, Corey thought.Just a normal-looking man. 

He remembered seeing him at the diner days prior, but now confirming his suspicion as true, he knew he was looking at the real boogeyman - not the one they spoke of in folklore. 

With no hesitation, Michael used his free hand to jerk the other knife from his other hand, sliding from the island to securely stand on his own two feet. He towered over Corey, but Corey didn't budge. Mia then moved between them, her palm on their chests, "This isn't the time and you know it," She pointed at Michael before peering down at Laurie, who was still breathing. "I saved the best for last, Michael. You'll know where to find me." She said to him before ushering Corey from the room, leaving only Michael and Laurie. 

He watched her leave before turning to grasp at his mask that lay on the countertop, slipping it over his head and returning to the entity he grew to love so much. He then grabbed the handle of the chef's knife as he walked slowly, oh so slowly, to Laurie's body. The bullet that Mia had shot her with only hit her shoulder, weakening her and leaving her in a stunned mess, but she was still alive. She was sure to let Michael finish this. 

He reached down, grabbing the nape of her skull by her hair and forcing her to her feet. She panted, gasping for air like a fish out of the water before Michael jerked down with enough force to hear a satisfyingcrack!, but she was still breathing and moving. He had to give it to her - he respected her for her lack of surrender, but it was no match for him. 

He then shoved her face into the nearby China cabinet, glass rupturing and breaking off into the weathered skin of her face. She desperately attempted to brace against the impact with her hands, but it was no use. Her arms went limp as he shoved her over the island where he was once pinned, holding her down by his left hand on her shoulder blade as the other raised above his head as the knife glistened in the moonlight. He hesitated for one second before bringing the knife down in one solid motion, the blade piercing between her shoulder blades. She grunted one last time as Michael loosened his grip on her, letting her fall to the floor to bathe in her own blood after removing the knife, his new favorite, from her body. 

She forced herself to look up at him one last time, watching him kneel down on the floor to get the knitting needle she had stabbed him with all those years ago and tried to repeat that night. She watched him hazily as he twirled the needle between his fingers. She couldn't move her head nor feel the rest of her body. The only thing she could do was watch.Just do it. 

She closed her eyes as the needle penetrated her neck right in her jugular. Michael kept it there, pinning her to the floor to leave for someone to peel her off from it. 

Halloween was over. 

Halloween has ended for Laurie Strode. 

[whisperedfury]

i could see a bloodbath coming | megara 

the magicians 4x13 || ‘vesuvius’ amber sparks || ‘four dancers’, ‘four ballet dancers on stage’ edgar degas / ‘mirrorball’ taylor swift || emil ferris || ‘sharp objects’ gillian flynn || the magicians 4x10 || yves olade || the suicide squad (2021) || mary oliver

[theateared]

tags.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“The most sought contraband, after tobacco, were letters. Uncensored letters. More than a once a month letters. Letters in their birth tongue. As many letters as possible.

Letters being passed illicitly had their own codes and systems – often they were written in slang, or in numeric cyphers. Roscoe Leigh, 21, described as a sneak thief by police, and who arrived to Kingston Penitentiary in Dec. 1918, showed other inmates in early 1919 his letter with a cross that marked a secret message from his wife in ‘invisible ink.’  Spit or water was used to write a few tender or salacious words that no one else was supposed to see. Secret letters in Finnish, Italian, Ukrainian, “Austrian” and Hungarian, befuddled the almost exclusively Anglophone guard staff when intercepted. Held to be signs of Bolshevist or anarchist plotting, they invariably were anything but once translated by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

The matters in these letters are almost always more prosaic than their clandestine and furtive nature would suggest. Many complained of their convictions or betrayal by other people. Gregory Stepp, writing to his sister in 1920, told her “I dont know if I will hold out the few years here… why I am unfortunate, why was I ever born! - but with the help of God…” Mike Smith, who had seriously wounded a man during a drunken knife fight in Welland in 1915, wrote to his friends, imploring them not to forget him while “I happen to find myself for a long time [with] the holy gates locked behind me…” Archibald Baylie instructed his family how to send a letter to the Minister of Justice, and finished by saying “...it seems terrible to me to be here [away] from such a wife and so fine a children. I know I have sinned but trust for forgiveness...”

Harry Alter, part of a robber gang, and only a teenager when he arrived at Kingston Penitentiary from Hamilton in Dec. 1918, wrote to his brother Phil: “[it’s] slow but Sure…I never want you to have my experience here or any other prison…” To his mother Harry instructed “…this is a hard place to get out of...keep writing the Minister of Justice…and get me a new lawyer.” Leo Rogers, a jail-breaker, gun runner and horse thief from North Bay, who briefly and bloodily escaped the penitentiary on March 24, 1919, smuggled a letter to his father and mother later that year: “…I’m a heavy disappointment to you and a source of continual grief and disquietude... There is no armour against fate, from the king to the lowest man…[I suppose I am fortunate] for few people are in a position to observe and appreciate the strange illogical almost hysterical effect of close confinement.”

That so many prisoners would struggle, plot, scheme and steal to get letters sent out, trusting in the uncertain hands of other, better-connected prisoners and their few allies in the guard staff - and that those letters were mostly full of love, anger, hope, despair and philosophical musings - is a sure and simple sign of the isolation, loneliness and desperation brought about by incarceration. It's also a testament to the persistence of people who were struggling to keep up with their communities against the near total rupture of going away to Kingston. Their families and friends, too, were hardly passive - almost all the letters show various levels of effort and support for their imprisoned loved ones.”

- an extract from a piece I published a few years ago in a local historical society newsletter about Kingston Penitentiary in Kingston, Ontario, Canada, during the First World War and after. It is very slowly being reworked into a more ‘academic’ article. The document is one of dozens of letters intercepted by RCMP officers and translated from Ukrainian

[cursedfortune]

🩸 - to approach your muse soaked in blood . Kai ((tbh im condused who's muse is 'your' muse so either (or btoh) of them lol)!)

Misc. Action. You gave me the reverse option so I ran with it. I don't think Kai would have appreciated the alternative. @mischievmagic

A scream echoed down the corridors, followed by thunderous rumblings and panicked gunfire that clearly indicated a fight had broken out. One that came suddenly, violently, and seemingly ended just as quickly. A silence took over the crime lord's base by the time he reached the room the sounds were coming from.

Until he opened it.

Revealing a partially destroyed space. She had tried to minimize the damage but the underling had surprised her when he drew his gun in combination to his quirk. Well aimed shots already healed, save for the two rounds that went into her skull. The witch's hands cradled either side of her head, twisting it from side to side for a moment until her healing pushed loose the fragments of metal. A soft rattling as they met bone before quietening, up until she ungracefully spat out the bullets.

Black eyes reflected in the partially dim room, the remaining light left flickering as it struggled. Like him. It caught her inhuman stare as she refocused her attention upon the still moving body.

It was easy to see the blood upon her mostly belonged to this grunt of his. She took an arm and leg each despite the fact she was unarmed. Her hand flexed as she watched him crawl and caught up with ease, fingers sinking into his hair as she gripped it tightly and slammed his face against the floor. Disorienting the mortal further to prevent anymore surprises. With a pull she brought him onto a knee, the back of his head cradled close to her abdomen as one hand slipped beneath his chin. One would think she sought to break his neck but no. The wet sound of flesh ripping open, muscle being not just cut but torn and the choked sounds that he was still capable of making made it clear that was not the case.

It was in this moment her gaze tilted to the side - finding Overhaul's with ease. Seeking his golden eyes that were touched by Midas himself. There was no laughter in her face, no playfulness to be found. Instead, a focused neutrality commanded her. A more honest look at the witch who was clearly within her element. Brow slightly furrowed, purposeful in every action she took.

Is this what you want?! The witch ripped further, twisting the head in her grasp as knife-like fingers severed through the meat and sinew - reddening her hands further. Is this the loyalty you want?!

Even this, even if it seemed like overkill - it served a purpose, it had intent to it. A message for more than just him. The head was severed and Mortem stepped over the fresh corpse to face Kai and his subordinates. With a steady breath the witch approached, free hand adjusting the collar of her dress back to its original place - concealing once more the secrets inked into her skin. Gaze not straying from his even as she tossed the head directly at Mimic (underhand, you're welcome) and stopped directly in front of his mask.

Mortem stared with a distinct lack of empathy regarding her actions and the gore that laid behind her. Upon her. As though it was just a mundane task that needed to be done. Garbage taken out. But as she took a step diagonally forward, getting close to him without ever touching, she softly murmured something for only him to hear. And how her voice lightly expressed once more that of a teasing witch, "You had traitors." The barest smile, sharp like her hand had just been, flickered briefly upon her lips.

Multiple. Past tense. Her act here would make or break those on the fence. Reveal clumsy and desperate traitors or intimidate back into place those that had considered abandoning ship. Either way, problem solved. You're welcome. Especially because she could have easily aided someone who wanted out. Blessed them, given them advantages. So long as they told the heroes a child and a woman was being held hostage. But instead she chose this. Do you get it yet, Kai? Isn't this what you wanted? And now those that considered betraying him had in mind the witch that detested their boss so would dispatch of them without a second thought. Someone who showed no loyalty would still cut down those that tried to desert this faction. The very one who has been overhauled multiple times and has heard so many things. Look at this, Kai. The potential of what she must know. The potential of what she could pretend to know, even, to keep his men fearful. For that was the brother to respect, was it not? She listens carefully, can't you tell? Clearly she chose Kai for a reason and they ought to reconsider.

Mortem lifted a hand, mimicking the gesture of running her wet fingers along his mask as she passed him by. No different than the caress a friend may do to a another's face in reassurance. See, she handled it - she'd watch whatever others were necessary too. Don't worry about it, false king - you have a witch.

And the witch had a child to protect above all - and unfortunately that meant playing the long game to get them both out. But at least now his men knew what manner of beast she was. Even if Kai remained unchanged she now had power to influence the lesser men in his ranks - to intimidate those on shaky ground. And that in itself was very useful.

[im-moreofa-dogperson]

A Fearful Encounter - Part 3

Featuring: Dr. Crane aka Scarecrow x Female Reader

Warning: swearing, mention of guns, attempted assault, fluff

Summary: After you escape from Arkham Asylum with the help of Jonathan Crane, you begin to suspect that not everything is what it seems.

Words: 2372

Previous Parts: part 1 part 2

_______________________________________________

The next morning after John promised he’d stay guard for you, you woke up disoriented and embarrassed. You had kissed him. You kissed the man that had more or less tortured you for over a month.

Of all the idiotic things you had done over the last few weeks, this one was the worst.

His sudden shift in allegiance was apparent though, you just couldn’t figure out why it was so. He had helped you escape and even went as far as to investigate the safety of your home and assured you he’d stay the night. All the while having been the very reason that safety precautions were necessary in the first place.

You were too tired and frustrated to ponder over this any longer, however, so you dragged yourself out of bed and got dressed.

You walked into the kitchen catching a glimpse of John sleeping. It was oddly reassuring to see he’d followed through with his promise, but it was also the most bizarre sight you’d ever witnessed. His left arm was hanging over the side of the couch and his right leg was resting on top of the throw you’d given him.

What was unusual was how serene he looked. You were used to him always being on guard; his piercing eyes assessing someone’s entire being before they’ve even had a chance to introduce themselves.

And now with his eyes lightly shut and his mouth slightly agape, he was more disarmed and vulnerable than you’d ever imagined he’d be.

He suddenly shifted in his sleep letting out a soft moan and snapping you out of your trance. You turned your attention to the fridge before quickly realizing that everything would be expired given that you hadn’t been home in the last month.

You stared in the empty void of your fridge for a solid minute, anyways, before John startled you by saying, “I can just walk you to the bagel shop across the street.”

You jumped not having known he had woken up and was watching you that whole time.

“Um, sure,” you respond after getting over your initial shock. You didn’t really see any other way you’d safely get food after what he had told you last night.

You still had the gun you’d stolen but left it in your dresser drawer given that you’ve never shot one before, and didn’t want to take your chances with such a severe lack of experience.

He nods and stands up, casually tossing the blanket back onto the couch. He’d slept in his clothes and had only taken off his boots and jacket which he put back on as you follow him out the door.

You were thankful he didn’t bring up the kiss from last night, but at the same time, a part of you wished he would at least say something about the connection you felt, so you could catch a glimpse of his thinking process.

After John escorted you to and back from the bagel shop, he had caught the attention of one of his men who was keeping guard outside your apartment. Once it was settled that this man would be watching you today, John decided it was time for him to head back to the Asylum.

With one last apology from him and an awkward goodbye, you were once again on your own in your apartment.

******

A few days had passed since you last saw John and since then, you’d noticed the same black SUV parked beneath your window and knew he had kept his promise again in terms of keeping you protected.

While you understood the necessity of being constantly watched given what he had told you about all the nefarious people who’d be coming after you, part of you wondered if he’d actually lied about it all.

You wondered if he’d made up the reason for your need to be under constant supervision, so he could continue with his research. You figured there was only one way to test this theory.

Grabbing your jacket off the armchair in your room and slipping your stolen gun in your pants using your sweater to cover it, you ventured out of your apartment.

Beginning the 3-block walk to your favorite coffee shop, you quickly notice the SUV following you from the corner of your eye.

Upon entrance to the shop, you subtly look around for another exit. The man keeping a watch on you didn’t get out of his car, wrongly assuming you were just there for coffee.

You notice a back exit that led into the alley. You figure that if anyone was actually after you, they’d be lurking nearby waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Slipping out the back door using the crowd of customers as cover, you glance back at the guard still parked out front. Good, you thought. At least you weren’t the only gullible sap in this city.

When the heavy back door slammed shut behind you, you took in your surroundings and noticed the alley was practically empty of life except a few rats scuttling behind a nearby dumpster. The noise of the bustling city echoed through the street creating a false sense of security.

You waited to see if any strangers would approach you, but when no one came forward after a couple minutes you immediately felt foolish.

How could you have believed a man who was known for deceiving his victims? That whole charade he put on the first night you were back home was just another trick. Only this time, instead of being brought on by Fear Toxin, this hallucination was brought on by a silly, seemingly baseless infatuation.

While you beat yourself up for your significant misjudgment of character, you failed to notice the strange man slinking his way towards you.

Before you knew what was happening, you were pinned up against the brick wall with a knife set against your throat.

You instinctively bring a knee up to the man’s groin. He grunts and doubles over as you push yourself from the wall, slightly stumbling away give how shaken up you were.

You don’t make it far, however, as the man catches up to you grabbing your waist, spinning you around and shoving you onto the ground.

Your head smacks into the concrete causing you to cry out. You reach for the gun tucked in your pants, but the man beats you to it and tosses it aside. So much for that, you think.

“Not all you’re cracked up to be, huh?” He growls. He brings his knife back up, but you continue to fight him, causing him to be more forceful, pressing the knife against your skin.

“What’s your secret, huh?” he continues. “How’d you fucking do it, bitch?” Instead of responding, you turn your head away from him and desperately attempt to reach for the gun sitting just inches from your fingertips.

“Doesn’t really matter anyways because you’ll be dead as soon as I’m done with you.” He mutters into your ear, ignoring your futile struggling.

Suddenly, you feel him jab a knee between your legs, pushing them apart.

Just as his free hand roughly grabs the hem of your pants in an attempt to rip them off you, a voice calls from behind you: “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

You lean your head further back to look behind you and a wave of relief washes over you at the sight of John’s face. The guard that was in charge of you must’ve alerted him as soon as he noticed you were missing.

John holds his gun, unwavering, pointed directly at the face of the man holding you down.

However, instead of letting you go, the man pulls you up keeping the knife pressed against your neck.

“So, THIS is how you managed to do what no other crazy has done before.” The man muses. “Slithering your way into the heart of a scarecrow, well sweetheart, I hate to break it to ya, but scarecrows famously have no hearts. Or is that a brain?” He teases.

John goes on, unfazed by the man’s accusation. “Sir, would you like to see my mask?”

Instead of answering with words, the man pushes his knife harder against your neck slightly puncturing through skin, causing a subtle grunt from you.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” John pulls his mask out of his back pocket where it was tucked and put it on with his free hand. He then pulls out a small spray bottle and douses the man in what you could only assume was Fear Toxin.

John must have configured you’d be acclimated to this dose and therefore wouldn’t be affected.

The man cried out and shoved you forward straight into John’s open arm who pulled you into him while keeping his gun trained on the man. You knew what was coming, so you turned towards John’s chest just as you heard him pull the trigger.

******

You walk back into your apartment still shocked about the gruesome scene that you now blamed yourself for instigating. You begin to fall onto the couch, but John had other ideas.

He grabs your upper arms and swings you back up so you’re standing just in front of him. He glares into your eyes with that icy blue stare.

“What were you thinking.” He says this slowly and deliberately then clenches his jaw, as if his anger is so severe it’s difficult for him to speak.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t lying to me.” You confess. He glares into your eyes for a few more seconds before noticing the small bleeding cut on your neck.

He abruptly lets go of you, and strides over to the kitchen. You breathe out a heavy sigh collapsing into the couch and closing your eyes.

As you begin to mull over everything that just happened, your eyes are jolted open again as you feel the sudden sting of a damp rag against your cut.

John sat on the cushion next to you and held pressure on your neck with one hand, the other hand holding the back of your head to keep you still.

You were reminded of the first night you met him when he’d laid you on the hospital bed and sat in front of you giving you his full attention. Of course, then he’d been threatening your sanity, unlike now with him taking care of a minor laceration.

You gaze up at the pale ceiling leaning against John’s hand and say, “so, you weren’t kidding when you said I’m somewhat disliked now by a few bad people.”

“No. I wasn’t.” He states.

“Not sure what you expected of me.” You continue without turning your head. “I mean how could I not question every word that comes out of your mouth, Scarecrow.”

You hear him chuckle at that last word, the opposite of the reaction you were expecting to incite.

He removes the rag from you and reaches over to the coffee table where he’d set a few butterfly bandages. He carefully places two on your cut eliciting a sharp inhalation from you.

“I must have mistaken that kiss as a sign of trust then.” He says. You whip around to look at him seeing he has his eyebrows now slightly raised. He knew that would get a rise out of you.

You scoff and shake your head before saying:

“You know what, yeah, you did. For such a profound psychiatrist or whatever you are, you sure have overlooked my reckless patterns. I mean do you even know how I got out of Arkham? I caused a commotion. That’s it.” 

“No scheming allegiances, no spectacular, award-winning plan that should ever have warranted the respect from a genius like you, just causing enough chaos in the hopes that I’d somehow be able to slip through the cracks unnoticed.”

The words tumble out of you as if you’d been holding on to this anger for far too long, not even sure what you were saying, only that you were angry. John sat still and watched you, studying you with a piercing gaze.

“And if you’ll remember correctly, it didn’t even work! You stopped me! If you hadn’t had this sudden change of heart, or whatever the hell is going on, I’d still fucking be there!”

“That first night we met, you mistook me as someone who has a plan. But I fucking don’t, okay?! I don’t know what I’m doing, and not to mention, I just got some guy fucking killed!”

“No you didn’t.” John says as he reaches out and grabs your arms to hold you still as you were still visibly shaking out of frustration.

“What are you talking about, I heard it.” You say in an exhausted tone.

“Oh, I didn’t kill that man.” He says matter-of-factly. You look at him befuddled, so he goes on, “You were caught in that Fear intake as well, and given that you aren’t 100% acclimated to it, you only imagined I’d shot him.”

Your eyes widen in shock. You felt like you were back on the pier, the ominous Gotham Bay at your back, and a complete reliance on John given any future slip-ups.

“And it isn’t entirely a reckless pattern. It’s bold. You were already unafraid before even taking my toxin. If there’s one thing a genius like me, your words, can respect it’s using chaos to your own benefit.”

You stare at him in disbelief. You hadn’t realized yet what it was in you that had caught the attention of such an illustrious criminal as John, but here he was telling you it’s because he was impressed by your unconventionality.

He continues on ignoring your speechlessness, “You’re not safe here. Not alone.”

You scoff lightly, and retort, “On the contrary, I think I was in considerably less danger before you showed up.”

“That may be true, but given that I have shown up, that argument is invalid.”

“So, what then, are you gonna take me back to the Asylum?” You contest.

“No. I meant what I said when I told you I was sorry for that. I’m done experimenting on people. You can stay with me until I figure out a plan.”

You furrow your eyebrows and say, “a plan for what?”

“A plan to help get you out of Gotham.”

_______________________________________________

[feathersofvibranium]

// sam wilson physicality meta/headcanons:

just gonna dump a bunch of stuff i think fits him but especially for my muse because im in far too deep and can’t stop now this is absolutely a sam wilson appreciation post but specifically about his stupidly hot body and how it works

he voluntarily joined the experimental Falcon program (pre-catws) - how many humans (not mutants, iron man suits, etc) that fly on just a set of mechanical wings were there before the program? that’s right, none - ive had a headcanon since catws where tony stark created the program on the side because pararescuemen (what sam did before joining the falcon program) saved him from the desert (1st iron man movie meta) check it out here (tfatws confirmed Falcon wings are stark tech!!) - we know sam wasn’t the only one in the program. we know there were casualties/deaths (re: sam’s wingman riley) - sam is clearly not over riley but he got back on the wings because captain america needed his help regardless. he is well aware of the inherent dangers. went for it anyway.

i don’t think fans give enough credit to how much time and effort it would take for a human to be able to fly around as he did as the Falcon?? - like imagine a bird. they steer with their wings. unless there’s some sorta brain signal reading chip in his falcon googles, im 99.9% sure his wing control isn’t directly done from his brain. which means that shit’s all done from his SHOULDERS/BACK MUSCLES - imagine a bird, part 2. tails. sam’s CORE/ABS/HIPS/LOWER SPINE/LEGS/FEET are the equivalent to bird’s tail when he’s out flying. imagine how much he needs those muscles to be strong enough to do barrel rolls and crazy maneuvers in mid air. strong af. (also good to have those muscles for some more homey activities too amirite *coughs*)

see that ‘voluntarily’ used up there in the first bullet? he signed up for this shit himself - as in he saw the opportunity to be a daredevil and just. went and did the thing. also means he wasn’t drafted.

imagine how many times he fell/crashed/blacked out in the air and fell outta the sky during the falcon training - imagine him having all sorts of wounds and scars on his body from just trying to fly and a lot of the time not being successful at it, until he finally does. probably used to having his own body thrown around so much so that what the winter soldier did to him on the helicarrier wasn’t even that much of a threat (i mean, sure, scary af mf but sam has experience being thrown around and knows how to stay calm and rational even in those situations)

how many (flying) birds do you know has more muscles than being built light-weight for flight? - this may be just me but i hc that before the tfatws training montage, sam wilson’s physcial training focused more on enhancing his cardio/heart (we see him running. a lot)/flexibility/shortening reaction time, ie, ones that are ideal for and benefit flying, NOT beefing up muscles - probably eats like a bird (among other things small bits throughout the day rather than full meals) - tfatws training montage is definitely for beefing up muscles and learning more close quarter combat, which he has knowledge of from the pararescue days (ie, ask rumlow) but not to this extent. because he’s gotta get ready to be Cap. he’s not a super soldier and has no super human powers or super strength but he has a cool new suit that allows for more.....muscles because well, cap can’t disappoint on the muscles front, right? - probably eats a lot more less like a bird.. or a very beefy bird

he went up against the winter soldier and then mindcontrolled bucky and survived all encounters - if you don’t think he’s gonna count that as a (weird) flex, you’re prob wrong

brought a 2in pocket knife to a gun fight and came out of that alive, unharmed, and with a gun

point being, whether he has a danger kink (don’t kink shame) or just happens to find himself in danger, a lot, he’s risen to the challenge every time. mostly by improving what he can do and how he can help others. he’s not weak by any means. he has taken a lot of hits and gotten back up each time.

tldr; this post only focused on his body and not even on any of his other overqualified skills. sam wilson (and his body) is an underappreciated gift and does not need super powers to be the most fitting person to take over as cap Sam Wilson is absolutely Captain America