#& if you tagged me in anything I actually have been meaning to respond!!!!!!!! my notifications are the WORST and so confusing on here😵‍���

[myokk]

💘

[displ3azant]

CURRENTLY ASK-ABLE: - Unpleasant - Infected (Plez oversees the questions, though.)

(Before cut is In-Character.)

Hiii! Helloooo!

Hello!!!!!! Hehe, thiz iz actually super weird trying to write an intro-- give me a minute.

So, HIII!!!!!!! I'm Unpleasant! That'z not a joke, that iz literally my name. There'z no "deep reason" behind it, it iz literally just what people refer to me az. But, if that'z too weird, I do also go by Unplez or Plez for short.

Uh, pronounz? I don't really care, actually. I don't have a set gender, I've never really met a gradient who doez. That being said, since I started hanging with Infected I have been called he and she specifically a lot... so if it'z easiest for you, just roll with the crowd.

Right, so... the blog. Thatz thiz blog, haha! Well, the easy answer iz I waz super bored, Infected can suck a huge ####, and I like talking about myself! But... I kind of suck at talking in general, so I guess I'll type and answer questionz about myself.

BUT KNOW MY BOUNDARIEZ BEFORE YOU ASK QUESTIONZ! 👇👇👇

(Below cut is Out-Of-Character.)

To those who know me: Good to see you're still stickin' with me! I promise I will make an effort to make this blog much less of a dumpster fire like the last one.

And to those who are only now coming across this blog: Hello! My name is Hex. You don't have to call me "Mod Hex", or anything, just "Hex" will do. I'm the only guy running this thing here. I'll talk more about myself soon, because oversharing is what I do best.

Blog-Context

So, if it wasn't obvious enough from the intro, this is an ask/rp blog for the Unpleasant Gradient from Regretevator, but specifically in the context of the plez-centric au I have created for him. Or, well, the "AU" in question is actually just some freaky amalgamation of all my fucked up headcanons, which means...

I AM NO LONGER DOING DIRECT BLOG ASSOCIATIONS! Really sorry about that, I love my friends with all my heart but if I wanna keep consistency, I'm gonna have to "write the story" on my own. However, I do want to give full credit to my friends @sk8tr1101 and @party-noob for some major concepts involving Unpleasant, especially Audrey who already has some awesome ideas herself. Go check them both out!

MAIN TAGS:

#unpl3zansw3rz - Asks

#unpl3zrambl3z - Non-ask related posts/reblogs

#unpl3zlor3 - Plot points and similar

#ooc - Out-of-character post

OTHER TAGS (to be updated):

(nothing yet, hehe)

Blog-Owner

So hiiii, I'm Hex. If I can be bothered, out-of-character posts will either have the #ooc tag, be in purple text, or be signed off with my name. I'd prefer if you refer to me using he/it pronouns, thnx!

I'd also like you all to keep in mind I am 17 years old, therefore a minor, and even if I wasn't 17 I do not appreciate NSFW/Explicit jokes towards me, ESPECIALLY if you don't know me. It's one thing when you're my very close friends or my partner, it's another thing when you are a stranger on the internet asking me things I should not have to answer.

My other accounts are: @hexexists - my main blog, if you receive notifications from this account, please know it is just me! @hexational - my regretevator blog @geometricgiovanni - a Jeremy ask/rp blog set in the same universe as this one! Please note, however, that in the context of this blog, Unpleasant is not aware of the blog nor would he like to be.

Ask/RP-Boundaries

Let's start off by reiterating that I AM NOT OKAY WITH NSFW/EXPLICIT ASKS IN ANY CAPACITY! Sick of getting them, they're repetitive and annoying. Asking safe-for-work questions involving Unpleasant's anatomy is one thing, but I am not responding to ANYTHING involving genetalia.

ALSO! I am very unlikely to respond to things that is either hard to make a unique drawing for or don't progress the story (unlocking "lore" and such). I'm watching your ass, Mango, I know what you like to do (/lh). Joke asks are still okay, you don't *have* to progress story, but please keep in mind my "criteria" for answering asks when sending them. A clean inbox gives me a clear mind. I do not like notifications.

Shipping content: Shipping content is okay, but I don't care much for romance personally and so will likely not play much into it. Please don't push anything, I guess, and nothing that promotes proshipping or any kind of literally illegal pairing. If you dislike any direction taken ship-wise for this blog, then block me and move on with your day.

Roleplaying: While I'd prefer to not be in direct contact with other rp blogs, I am totally cool with roleplaying side stories and stuff, interactions and such! Please keep in mind though, Unpleasant in this is not a very social person, so you're probably not going to get the reaction you want.

Also! I think OCs are super cool and am happy to respond/interact with them as well! However,

PLEASE DON'T SEND YOUR GRADIENT OCS TO THIS ACCOUNT IF YOU WANT ME TO DRAW THEM! Please instead send them to @hexational! A lot of people were sending me their Gradient ocs to the previous Unpleasant account, and as much as I love seeing Gradient ocs and Gradient sonas, I'd love to be able to draw them, and if you are just asking an opinion on them and not an in-character ask or a genuine question involving other gradients I'd much prefer you send them to the account previously tagged!

That's pretty much all I can think of! Sorry for the long post, I just have a lot to say hehe

Lots of love, - Hex

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 2

Womp, womp. I apologize in advance for this part :)

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: ANGST x3, unrequited feelings, arguments

Word Count: 1,550

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

Part 1

Over the next couple of days, you’re kind of glad that Bucky doesn’t reach out. You see each other in the common areas, but he doesn’t offer to hang out or train together, and neither do you. But you’re the type of person that can’t hang on to negative feelings for too long, so after about a week, you’re ready to be ‘just friends’ with Bucky again.

You start by sending him a text, totally innocuous and about something random you’d seen, but his reply is short. A little odd from him, but hey, he’s probably busy at the moment and still feeling a little weird. You’ll try your hardest to get you both past this awkward phase in your friendship.

You glance up from the reports you’d been writing all morning. It’s close to lunch now, so you head to the kitchen to find something appetizing. You hope the chef has been in…

Walking into the kitchen, you see Bucky and Steve sitting at the island. There’s a large spread of food between the two of them, but you know it will be tucked away to their stomachs in no time.

“Hey, boys!” You greet cheerfully.

Steve turns around and gives you a broad smile and a “hey” back. Bucky just slightly nods his head and throws you more of a grimace than a smile.

You squint your eyes at Bucky’s ‘greeting’, but continue on into the room to start preparing a sandwich since there’s no stealing what’s left on the island. You and Steve start up a conversation which Bucky barely participates in except when one of you asks him a direct question. You can see Steve throwing Bucky exasperated looks when he thinks you won’t notice.

You throw everything into the sandwich press to heat up and turn around to lean against the counter and peer over at the boys. Bucky sits at the island, just spooning food into his mouth and ignoring you and Steve to the best of his ability.

“What’s up with you?” you finally question him.

Steve shoots a panicked look between you and Bucky, which lets you know that Bucky must have told him about what you’d said. Which, to be expected, you suppose. They’re best friends. And you’d already told Nat and Wanda about everything, anyway.

“Me?” he questions. Bucky looks at you kind of puzzled before going on, “I’m just… trying to help?” He says this more as if questioning the validity of his plan than giving an actual answer.

You’re quick to laugh it off. “Jesus, Buck. I agreed we should stop fucking, not stop being friends.”

Steve’s eyes widen further and Bucky chokes. He has to clear his throat before he can respond properly. “I guess that’s not a secret anymore, huh?”

You frown at him. “I figured you’d already told him everything – Nat and Wanda know.” You throw an apologetic look Steve’s way. “I’m sorry, Stevie. Didn’t mean to upset your delicate constitution.”

“Har har,” he quips. You smile brightly back at him.

Bucky sighs deeply. “I just don’t think –”

“Stop,” you interrupt him. “I told you to forget about it.”

“Well, it’s kind of fucking hard to forget,” Bucky gripes, stabbing his spoon down into his bowl.

You freeze for a moment before saying anything. You blink several times and take in a deep, calming breath.

“Hey Steve, could you give us a second?” you ask quietly. The man needs no further prompting; he’s immediately out of his seat and through the doors with a supportive little grin thrown your way before he’s out of sight.

You’re still leaning back against the counter, but now you pull your arms up to cross over your chest. You hate that all your hard work over the last few days might derail so quickly. You were already vulnerable once, and it didn’t turn out how you wanted; you’re not sure if you can do it again.

“I said I’d handle it, Buck.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I can’t.” Bucky looks up at you, his jaw tight. 

His anger is so far from expected, you’re unsure what’s going on. You pitch your head forward, disbelieving.

“What?”

“Maybe I can’t handle it; did you think of that?” he repeats. His chair scrapes across the floor as he stands up, fists gripping the edge of the counter. “Did you think that maybe I’d be uncomfortable knowing how you feel about me?”

“Buck–” you try.

“No, Y/N.” There’s reproach in his voice. He takes a visible calming breath and lets up on the countertop before it begins to crumble.

As much as it hurt the other night, this is a million times worse. This isn’t embarrassment about being rejected anymore – you can live with that – but his genuine anger over your confession guts you. You inhale a shaky breath and prepare yourself.

“I told you time and again that I don’t want a relationship. We agreed before we started anything that there wouldn’t be feelings. You promised me. You lied.”

“I didn’t lie,” you try to defend. “I honestly didn’t feel like this in the beginning.”

“But when you started to get feelings for me, you didn’t try to stop us! You let it go on, thinking that I’d change my mind!”

“Now wait a minute –”

“I’m just…” he takes a deep breath in and out. Again. His shoulders drop and he shakes his head, the fight leaving him. “I’m trying my best not to be angry. But I am.” 

Bucky looks up from where he’s been staring at the floor, trying to avoid looking at you more than necessary. You can only imagine the look of hurt on your face as Bucky fights back a defeated sigh.

“Look. I know it’s not your fault – I never should have suggested it in the first place.”

“Bucky–”

“And I wish I hadn’t.”

You suck in a tight breath between your teeth. Bucky wishes he’d never suggested it? That means he wishes he’d never slept with you at all, right? Regrets spending all the time with you that lead to being as good of friends as you are? Or were, you guess.

He regrets it? Regrets you? 

Goddamn. There’s a pain so deep inside your chest, you can’t distinguish the feeling from having a bullet lodged in your lungs. You rub deep and hard with your knuckles against your sternum, drawing the pain outwards.

There’s silence in the room.

“I see,” you whisper shakily. You suck your bottom lip roughly between your teeth and nod your head slowly, looking away from Bucky. 

You’re unsure of where to go from here. Obviously you and Bucky can’t go back to the way things were – you can’t just pretend like you hadn’t taken a sledgehammer to your friendship that night after the movies.

You catch sight of Bucky from your peripheral vision. He takes his rough hands and runs them through his long brown hair, gathering it into a bun at the nape of his neck. You know it’s a nervous habit more than functional, given the situation you’ve found yourselves in. 

It guts you to realize that your admission has caused him this much stress, caused him so many negative emotions. He’s worked so hard after all the shit Hydra put him through. Worked to make himself into a normal man with boundaries he wanted and needed respected.

And you hadn’t done that. You’d trampled all over the lines he’d drawn in the sand, barrelled right up and over to the other side.

“I didn’t mean –”

“Don’t you dare apologize, James Barnes,” you command. He looks slightly surprised by the hardness of your tone and the sound of his real name in your mouth. You hadn’t called him by his given name since becoming friends. “I’m the only one responsible for my own decisions, no matter who brought up the idea. I agreed. I caught feelings. I ruined it. Not you.” Your voice softens to make sure that Bucky knows you’re not angry with him. Not over something you did. “Don’t apologize for my mistakes.”

You step away from the countertop, moving so that you’re on the same side of the island as Bucky. Face-to-face now, but with a meter of space separating you, you look directly into Bucky’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.” 

It takes him a moment to stop reeling from the sheer intensity of your apology. The sincerity behind those last two words blowing through him but also rooting him to the spot. Bucky swallows thickly and nods once, accepting your apology.

You blow out a breath and crook him a sad smile. You place one foot back, taking half of a small step away from Bucky, giving him space. Giving you space.

“I’ll go see if there are any extended missions. Maybe go help out with some of the conflicts going on.”

Giving him a lot of space.

“Doll.”

“It’s alright,” you say, still with the sad smile. “Maybe Nat can go on that mission with you, huh? You’ll have more fun together, anyway.”

“We would have had fun together,” he said. 

The ‘if you hadn’t messed it up’ left unspoken, you thought sadly. You flatten your lips and put on a thoughtful expression, nodding your head after a moment. 

“Yeah, we would have.”

Part 3

@jackiehollanderr @aboobie (will not tag) @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze

[morganbritton132]

okay so about eddies response to the video of steves appointment, when he threatens to break noses, would that have been the first time CC fans have actually seen eddie mad before??

also how would erica have reacted/responded to it, if she ever did publically??

(while this is the first time ive directly asked about this au i want you to know it has me in a chokehold and i think about it daily ajdjs)

- milf-harrington

First, just wanna say thank you and that I get very excited when I see your name in my notifications. I love reading your tags and what they add to the posts so thank you. Everybody has been so super nice and the prompts people send me are very fun to respond to. I’m just very, very grateful. Now, on to the sad stuff.

I wanna start with Erica.

Erica finds out from the press. Her phone has been off all day and when she walked outside at the end of her work day, a reporter stopped and asked about it. You know, Erica. She tells you what to do so she makes this reporter show her the video, and then in a voice held together solely by PR training turns her response into a soundbite for the privacy bill that she’s been trying to get passed.

You can kind of hear her on the phone at the end of the reporter’s video say, “Tina, who do you know that still works for TikTok?”

Not saying that Erica got the video taken down, but I’m not not saying that.

I think this is the first time that Corroded Coffin fans have seen Eddie this angry on this large of scale. There have always been assholes who try to take advantage of the chaotic atmosphere of a concert and Eddie has no qualms about pulling a Billie Joe Armstrong and dropkicking someone trying to take advantage of someone else. That pisses him off.

Gatekeeping pisses him off. He’ll snap at a so-called fan for making fun of kids that just got into heavy metal and don’t know everything about the genre. Heavy metal was a home for him when he was ostracized from his peers in school and it pisses him off more than anything to see people get turned away because they’re just new.

And there have been times when Eddie’s almost come to blows with a fan about them being a dick to Steve, but no one has ever seen him like this. Eddie can be scary when he’s angry and he is so far passed ‘changing the day of Hellfire for a basketball game’ mad. He’s pissed and he’s not fucking around when he tells people to leave him alone.

Eddie doesn’t go back to posting regularly for a while after that. It’s not until one night when he’s fucking around on his guitar and Steve comes down to the studio at the time he’s typically going to bed in his dorky matching set of pajamas and the blanket off the back of the couch.

He settles in behind Eddie and wraps his arms and legs around him, rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder and then fusses around with Eddie’s phone. He clicks the camera app and holds it out, and when Eddie asks what he’s doing, Steve says, “I want you to ask me dumb questions and make your silly little videos again. I know that – I know why you haven’t but I don’t think you should stop having fun because someone was mean.”

Steve kisses his cheek and nuzzles up closer, “There’s a lot of mean people in the world, Ed. They’ve never stopped you before, shouldn’t let them stop you now.”

Steve ends up just taking a picture of them, but Eddie’s pretty sure Steve doesn’t really know how you make a video anyways. The gestures there though and Eddie thinks that it’s really sweet.

He makes the picture his background.

[sophieinwonderland]

So I saw a doc going around accusing me of being a dangerous person. Which, cool! I've been trying to get anti-endos to see me as a threat and I only see this as being helpful to that end.

Just because you tell people to not interact with someone you're accusing of being dangerous doesn't mean they'll actually listen. I view the notoriety as a positive.

That said, I started reading and it feels like it's largely a lot of nothing. Frankly, I'm pretty disappointed.

Before I get into that...

I barely know who you are, and had no idea you were writing this document. And even if I did, how would I know the specific contents of it to try to "soften the blow?"

That makes no sense!

But I actually wanted to cover their first piece of evidence, because wow! There is really, so much nothing there!

Let me try to summarize this incident because this gets a bit hard to follow.

The inciting incident

On December 5th, 2022, (according the doc, I don't have the date memorized) I responded to a post from a blog, referenced above as Halex...

After this, SAS (on the JustAnotherSyscourse blog) responded to my post.

Meanwhile, Halex also told me to stop interacting with their posts.

So rather than respond any further to them in that thread, since I still wanted to continue the argument with SAS, I screenshotted SAS's reblog of my own post, and then just made a public response to that and that alone. A response that has no link to Halex, didn't show their name, and would not appear in their notifications.

It is not, in any way, shape or form, interacting the them.

At this point, Halex blew up at me and told me to "get out of their reblogs" as if they somehow own the reblogs of their posts.

Now, if you're smart and know anything about how Tumblr works, you would probably realize that getting that screenshot did not require me to go onto Halex's blog. I get the notification in my inbox that SAS replied to me (on the JustAnotherSyscourse blog), I click on that notification. I then screenshot only the parts posted by SAS.

In all of this...

When did I ever interact with Halex's post or blog after they told me not to?

I respect their boundary and didn't interact with them in this case. But telling me not to interact with SAS is a stupid boundary they don't get to make.

The "Block Evasion"

There seem to be three claims of me "block evading."

The first is the ridiculous one above where they seemed to think me screenshotting SAS was somehow interacting with them. I shouldn't need to go into how stupid that is again. (I can't even remember if I was blocked at that point by them. I don't think I was, but it's beside the point because I wasn't interacting with them.)

The second involved screenshotting their syscourse blog ("Oops") months later which had a "Sophie DNI" banner on it.

I saw the posts I screenshotted in the public tags because this systems was, in fact, really bad at blocking.

While I was blocked on the Halex blog, I was not on the the Oops blog. Even quotes in the document admits this:

And as far as I'm aware, there wasn't even anything linking the Oops blog to the Halex blog, so even if I knew that I was blocked on the Halex blog, I wouldn't have connected them at the time. I just saw them as separate blogs ran by completely separate people.

As far as I recall, I haven't interacted with this blog or screenshotted it since they actually blocked me.

The third accusation of block evading was this...

Where I reblogged a post from Cambrian that happened to be replying to their third blog.

Again, Tumblr doesn't allow you to reblog someone who you're blocked by. I couldn't view their blog to reblog from them directly, nor could I reblog a post if they were the OP. Cambrian, a system I follow, made a post. This system argued with them. Cambrian responded. And I reblogged Cambrian's response, in a post Cambrian was the OP of. Which I saw on Cambrian's blog. That I follow.

So to recap, the so-called "block evasion" was...

Screenshotting someone who was not the person who had me blocked. (If I was actually blocked at the time.)

Screenshotting someone's blog posting a banner with my name and avatar on it, which ALSO DIDN'T HAVE ME BLOCKED ON THAT BLOG!

Reblogging a mutual who I follow who happened to be talking to someone who had blocked me.

The last, I'll admit, is at least a bit of a gray area. But "you can't reblog posts from your mutuals if I'm talking to them" still feels like a pretty silly boundary to me.

So this whole part below... it's nonsense.

Yeah, of course I'm not going to respect a Sophie DNI banner.

It's a joke.

I don't care if they're upset or distressed. They could have just learned how to actually block people if it bothers them that much. Putting a target on someone by name with a banner you attach to all your posts isn't a "basic boundary."

Absolutely nothing about this is standard!

In my years on Tumblr, both before and after that incident, I've never seen anyone else make a "[specific person] DNI" banner with their name and avatar.

This isn't commonplace. Absolutely nobody does this.

And it was even more hilarious when I found out that this happened over an incident where they decided me interacting with someone else was breaking their boundaries.

Can we just talk about the hypocrisy for a moment?

So according to them, screenshotting SAS was somehow block evading Halex. Screenshotting OOPS was block evading them despite the fact that THEY DIDN'T EVEN HAVE ME BLOCKED ON THAT BLOG. Reblogging Cambrian was also block evading

All of these things, they'll pretend are block evading.

But again, all these boundaries are being treated as one-way.

The user who compiled this doc, who I won't name, has me blocked. But apparently sees no issue with going through my posts to compile a massive callout document about me.

Maybe their logic is that their own actions don't count because they blocked me instead of the other way around, but something tells me that if I had blocked them, it probably wouldn't stop them from mentioning me and screenshotting my posts.

I'm probably not done with this yet. There are so many terrible arguments and so much misinformation in that doc that I can mock and mine it for content for ages. But this is good for now.

[discoverywriter]

20 Questions For Writers

Didn’t actually get tagged on this, but it looked like a fun one. 🤣

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

AO3 says I have 24. Huh.

2. What is your total AO3 word count?

288,626 since I started in 2021, which seemed like a lot to me until I realized 179,551 of those belong to the second thing I ever wrote, a massive 4 part series covering from Rio’s resurrection to their inevitable HEA.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Veronica Mars brought me to AO3. The Punisher (Kastle) made me think for the first time about writing prompts, but it was the Good Girls (Brio) fandom that finally got me to put the proverbial pen to paper.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Even If It Hurts (Part 3 of Walk Through The Fire series)

2. Sanctuary (Part 2 of Walk Through The Fire series)

3. Get Your House In Order (Part 1 of Walk Through The Fire series)

4. By My Side (Part 4 of Walk Through The Fire series)

5. What Would Elizabeth Do?

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I try to, at least. Sorry if I’ve missed any, sometimes I lose track of the notification emails.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ooh, definitely Enemy of My Enemy. Hardest fic for me to finish. Not fluffy. No HEA. Rio is aaaaaangry.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm… there’s a lot to choose from cause I looooove a soft, fluffy Brio. If you can slog through the 4 part series, it covers the most ground, ending years after the show. It’s loosely based on canon to start, but veers off.

8. Do you get hate on your fics?

Hmm… Not really. Luckily just one I can think of. A vague accusation that all my ideas were suspiciously like a lot of other ones on AO3… except those other writers did it way better. 🤷🏻‍♀️ I blocked them and figured if anything, it meant I’d finally “made it”. 😂

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I try to. I aim for the kind I think people will enjoy reading, but I often alternate between worrying it’s either a little too cheesy, or over the top.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t, but I would never say never. There are some I would *love* for other people to write, though. Karen Page (Punisher) and Steve Rogers (Captain America)… Intrepid reporter interviews national hero after the Battle of New York. Neither are looking for anything, but sparks fly. Anyone? Anyone??? 🤣

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but wouldn’t it be awesome if AO3 had a button that would do that automatically?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Again, no. I won’t say it would never happen, but I’m a bit of a lone wolf writer. Strict deadlines, etc are tough for me, so I think I’d find a co-writing situation very stressful.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

It has to be Brio. 🥰

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

This is a tough one. I don’t tend to release fics until they’re finished, so I don’t have any orphaned stories out there crying out for a happy ending. I do have a dozen or so ideas that are in various stages of completion. Some are almost done(ish), so I suspect the ones that are less likely to get finished are the ones that are literally a sentence fragment… barely a complete idea. I mean, they’re great random scattered thoughts, but… Yeah.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I’ve been told my Brio characterizations are good.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Hmmm… Dialogue and smut. My descriptions aren’t bad, but my writing style isn’t as “flowy” as I’d sometimes like.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’m not bilingual, so if I include another language in a fic I tend to keep it fairly short and straightforward to lessen the chance of getting it wrong.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Good Girls. First and only.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I don’t mind rereading (most of) my own stuff. I have a special soft spot for ones where Brio interacts with the kids, like Smarter Than Your Average Gang Friend (Rio gets shown up by the Jane), and In Sickness (Jane’s sick and Rio shows Beth an uncharacteristic kindness).

Not tagging anyone in particular. Please, jump in!

[forwhump]

hi! first i want to say how much i love wren & silas.

second, and i may be totally off base, but i wanted to say how off-putting it was for that person to leave a comment on your last chapter just saying "tag me?" i know tagging is a huge part of the culture here but you hadn't offered to start one or let us know that you were interested in having a tag list at all. and instead of asking if you would be interested in starting one and instead of asking if they could be on the list (or even a potential future list), they just put in the least amount of effort by sort of demanding it in a two worded question.

please don't feel the need to post this ask or respond or anything, i just wanted to reassure you that you don't have to start a tag list if you don't want to! it's a lot of work to keep one up, especially with tumblr's new rules about only tagging 5 accounts per paragraph and sometimes the links don't even work and it can be stressful.

i can tell you put in a lot of effort into your writing and these characters and your author notes and I don't want you to feel obligated to do extra work or stress about something like accidentally leaving someone off the tag list or messing up the tag list, etc.

i'm sure the commenter meant well and maybe you wanted to start one anyway and this is all irrelevant but it has been weighing on my mind since i read their comment and just wanted to add my two cents.

third, thanks for reading all this and hope you're well!

I kinda went back & forth about answering this cause I don’t want the person that asked to be tagged to like feel called out or anything (so if you see this I mean NO harm I am so painfully nice I promise !!) but this is just so thoughtful I had to say thank you so much !!!!!!!!

tbh I actually didn’t know tagging was such a huge part of the community until this last like three days LOL somebody had asked before to be on my tag list if I ever make one & I was like “yeah absolutely !!” because I was too shy to be like “what is that” 😭 & tbh again I don’t know if I actually even can because I feel sooooooooooo weird about like forcing my presence on other people & I think it’s SO nice & I’m so flattered that people want to keep up w my little guys but even when I answer prompts & things like I’ll say your name in the note but I WONT tag you because I’m so sure everybody’s gonna see me in their notifs & be like “ugh not this dumb bitch again” 😭😭😭

but anyway LOL more importantly thank you !!!!! I hope something really good happens to you today <3

[emmerrr]

fic tag game

thanks for the tag @kelliealtogether !

How many works do you have on ao3? 106

What’s your total ao3 word count? 677,888

What fandoms do you write for? The Raven Cycle/The Dreamer Trilogy, All For The Game

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? The Road To Nowhere / Yes, Coach / Stay / The Bones of You / You go your way, I'll go your way too -- all AFTG fics. it's funny, i feel like i'm more 'known' (for want of a better word) for trc/pynch fics and i've certainly written more of them, but almost all of my aftg fics are considerably more popular if we're going by kudos.

Do you respond to comments? i used to reply to every single one without fail but it started to make me really really anxious at a time when i was writing a multi-chapter fic, because some comments really don't warrant a reply, but i got into a mindset of 'well if i reply to one comment i have to reply to all of them' and then i realised that i don't, actually! also i'm allergic to notifications so as soon as i read them i mark them as read, which makes my brain happier but also means i'm more likely to forget to reply. i always reply if someone asks a question, and i do try to at least reply to the first chunk of comments i get on a new fic though!

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? probably burning bright right 'til the end

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? head over heels immediately comes to mind. also kick start my rock and rollin' heart. but tbh almost all my fics have happy endings, that's just how i roll. (also a lot of them are short oneshots that are less about narrative and more about vibes, so they don't all necessarily feel like they have endings as such!)

Do you get hate on fics? nope, i've been pretty lucky so far!

Do you write smut? i very occasionally write smut-adjacent lmao, but not really

Do you write crossovers? no, they don't really interest me

Have you ever had a fic stolen? i hope not!

Have you ever had a fic translated? yes, one. i've been asked quite a lot as well and my answer is that i'm fine with my fics being translated (with credit obviously) but only if they're being posted on ao3, i don't want them on any other site.

Have you ever co written a fic? nope 

What’s your all time favourite ship? i mean i've definitely written more pynch than anything else, but i ship a lot of things!

What’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i don't wanna say that i'll never finish any of the fics i've started in earnest -- if i liked an idea enough that any of it all made it out of my head and onto a page then there's hope for it in the future. i'll get to them when i get to them!

What are your writing strengths? dialogue. it always comes the easiest to me. a lot of my fics start from conversations that popped into my head, then i get to write the situation to get that conversation to happen which is the tricky part!

What are your writing weaknesses? everything else! idk, world-building i guess? i don't think i'm that great at descriptions. i can do all the internal character feelings and emotions and stuff, it's just the external that i stuggle with.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? i haven't done it but i'm not like, against it?

First fandom you wrote for? technically lotr before i knew what fanfiction was, and i printed it out lmaoooo. i have no idea what happened to it i think i probably threw it away.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written? at the minute? Caught By The Light. ask me tomorrow and my answer will probably change!

not sure who's already been tagged, so if you haven't yet and you wanna do it, consider yourself tagged!

[eggs-can-draw]

you probably missed those because I copied your tags before saying anything so you couldn't tell from the notifs, which I spammed, mostly with rbs that didn't add anything, it's understandable that you didn't check all of them, so I screenshotted them for you. Again, no hate on your choice of a cat breed, I love all cats, I think I just have a problem with coming on strong when I have an alternative idea. And the way I pictured Monaca's possible involvement, is her recording it for her tiktok or something tiktok adjacent. Komaru tried to install some sort of parental control on her phone that'd make it impossible for her to download it, but out of the two Monaca is far superior in dealing with technology, so Teaching Babies to Swear Pt.9 goes viral

YOU FOOL. YOU UTTER BUFOON (affectionate <3) I READ AND REREAD THESE LIKE EVERY FUCKING DAY BECAUSE THEY MAKE ME GRIN LIKE A FUCKING IDIOT.

I never responded cause I didn't wanna be annoying or anything I'm bad at people sometimes aaaaaugh 👉👈

Listen. Listen to me. Look me in the eyes. At least in my opinion, you come off strong in a good way. You're PASSIONATE!!! I FUCKING LOVE TO SEE IT BESTIE!!! NEVER LET ANYONE PUT YOU DOWN FOR BEING PASSIONATE!!!!! The thought of Kokichi with a ferret is fucking inspired and I LOVE IT SLINKY LITTLE GUY FOR THE SLINKY LITTLE GUY. also YES HAJIME IS SUCH A BASIC BITCH. I could totally see him going to a shelter or smth and just adopting the first kitty that comes up to him. love at first sight. He did not realize how much he would miss the constant chaos 24/7 until he's helping Kokichi with his little backpack (no leash attached this time) and watching him run into school. Sometimes a gremlin is what makes a house a home. (also them having a tabby means so so so much to me now, I had a tabby growing up and she was the sweetest cat ever) Also LMAO I LOVE LOVE LOVE TIKTOKER MONACA. SHE IS AN ABSOLUTE MENACE. KOMARU HAS TRIED EVERY PARENTAL LOCK IN THE BOOK BUT MONACA STAYS SILLY. also just. ough. this one. this one actually makes me sob. I LOVE THIS SO SO SO MUCH IVE BEEN REREADING IT ALL DAY JUST. THINKING. so so so so so so so many thoughts AGH. THE AFTERMATH. HAJIME BEING TOSSED INTO THE ROOM WITH THE PARENTS, TOTALLY PASSED OUT (they got him with a second horse tranq when his back was turned) KOMAEDA WATCHING HAJIME AND THE DOOR LIKE A FUCKING HAWK, SONIA WANTING TO REACT BUT SHE KNOWS SHE FUCKING KNOWS IF SHE DOES ANYTHING THEY'RE ALL GOING TO BE IN EVEN MORE TROUBLE. She takes a deep breath. Pulls out her perfect practiced princess quality smile. She speaks like the queen she was built to become. She wants to tear them apart limb from limb. (also just throwing this out there because I thought of it earlier, Naegi was "Formally Escorted Off The Premises" after the punch) also just. ough. it's an important distinction with the origin of their talents. The dr1 and sdr2 squad's talents are talent born from despair. The v3 kids have talent that's born from hope. Hope for the future hope for themselves and it just. mmmh.

[voidtouched-blue]

GETTING TO KNOW YOU.

respond to the following prompts out of character. then, tag others that you'd like to get to know a little bit better!

ROLEPLAYER NAME: Fox

ROLEPLAYER PRONOUNS: he/she/they (most preferably they or creature. XD)

MUSE NAME: Cyra Lunastra

PREFERRED COMMUNICATION: Tumblr if we're just starting out! But Discord is available upon request!

EXPERIENCE: OOoh boy buckle up. I used to RP WAAAAAAAY back in the day in a chatroom called animechatroom I think (I was like...10 ok). Then I moved from there to GaiaOnline in middle school. And I RP'd in the forums on Gaia until the end of my freshman year of high school where I started on tumblr with my bestie irl. I had a humanized Rainbow Dash blog from MLP: Friendship is Magic. If any of you have been around since then and know me from back then, my url was theloyalrainbow. I took a break for a few years to focus on college, and now I'm back! So over all, roughly 20 years of experience.

PREFERRED ROLEPLAY TYPE: I prefer novella-type RP. No topic is really off-limits for me, but I do adjust my own descriptions and subjects for whatever my partners prefer. My strengths as a writer lie in combat, conflict, and angst. I'm open to writing any and all moments though!

PET PEEVES & DEALBREAKERS: I have a few things to list and explain!

I have a harder time with threads that aren't plotted. They don't have to be super extensive, I just need enough of a direction to go on so that things don't get stale.

I would prefer that we at least chat a bit before actually starting to RP. It hasn't happened to me yet, but I likely won't respond to starter posts that haven't been discussed with me prior to seeing it pop up on my dashboard.

PLOTS OR MEMES: I highly prefer plots over memes! But that doesn't mean we can't meme on the side! Just know that plots will get more attention than memes!

LONG REPLIES OR SHORT REPLIES: As you've probably already noticed, I tend to write fucking novels with most of my threads. I don't expect anyone to ever match my length, but I need something to work with more than a single paragraph or a handful of sentences. I get really excited about Cyra interacting with other muses and I can't help myself when it comes to telling stories.

BEST TIME TO WRITE: Honestly, whenever I'm awake and not playing games or working on art. You could message me at any point in the day and I will respond the moment I see the notification pop up.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSES: I firmly believe that I've taken a few aspects of myself and exaggerated them a bit to better fit my idea of who Cyra is as an individual and using my own lived experiences to help me write her better. Not everything she does is something I would do, and not everything I would do is something she would do. A lot of her personality is inspired from multiple sources, but her desire to help people is one thing that is definitely derived from myself. If anything, Cyra is more like my cats than me. XD

tagged by: @altosk [I'M A WHOLE DAY LATE AND A DOLLAR SHORT BUT HEY I'M DOING IT NOW RIGHT?!?!]

tagging: @phoenix-flamed, @taleswritten, @luposcainus, (since my usuals are already tagged, feel free to do this if you see it!)

[youngster-monster]

i was never really on forums because young me was under the impression that forums were for Adults (my definition of adults you ask? i do not know. older teenagers???? i don’t remember) so the closest i ever got was having extensive conversations with people on google+ and youtube comment sections but GOD that really is just what’s happening here isn’t it

i’m trying to think of the most inconspicuous way to tell my sister i’m interested in playing FFXIV now because if i even Imply the reason why i know that i will NEVER live it down it will be Terrible. BUT THE ELVES!!! THE !!! THE ELVES GAME < - - - - does not know anything about final fantasy except that there are elves

it does actually look pretty fun from what little i know about it, so i’m looking forward to trying it out!! who would’ve thought that tempting me with promise of elves in ffxiv was all it takes to get me to play the game…

my siblings won’t answer my wow lore questions because, and i quote, “i literally do not know either” and it is Heartbreaking what do you MEAN you played the whole expansion start to finish and still don’t know what happened????? they’ve been playing for YEARS and i still can’t get my siblings to answer my lore questions half the time!!! i have given up…. on asking them. so now i make them listen to me rattle off the Cool Lore Facts that i spent an embarrassing amount of time reading about as penance for their lore crimes in lieu of putting them in magic jail for 10,000 years

FRIENDSHIP AND ATTENTION!!! u and me BOTH everytime i see you’ve responded to today’s behemoth ask i lose my mind abt it

NOT THE ‘HARROW ME ANYTIME’ TAG rest in pieces oh my god. partially related but i forget that friends have access to my tumblr and one time my friend mentioned a post i reblogged nd i started sweating Bullets what do you mean you saw the posts i was reblogging and by extension the book length tags i attach to them. what do you mean

my internet connection? Nonexistent. My free time? In high demand. I am literally on vacation with friends. But with god as my witness I'm GONNA be answering The Ask

the children yearn for the pen pals system

listen. I'm gonna be real with you. People don't start playing xiv for normal reasons. I think if you told your sister you're doing it for the elves she'd get it like the Heavensward expac just has that effect on people

Putting a slice of cheese under a box propped up by a stick. Pspsps come look at the elves. Don't pay attention to the emotionally devastating story beats. Look! This one is embarking on a journey of revenge where he'll have to dig two graves AND turn into the very monster he's hunting! (Shoves all the Sadness behind a curtain)

Imagine playing wow and not becoming highly Normal about the lore. Couldn't be me

Every wow playing group has the Lore Master and if you cannot find them you must Become them

The mortifying ordeal of friends notificing your blogging... I'm lucky that mine are all freaks (affectionate) so what are they gonna say huh. "I saw you at the devil's sacrament" okay goody proctor 🤨

[willel]

Why is twitter so toxic? I think you wrote something about it some time ago, that on tumblr, for instance, there’s no immediate incentive to write a hit post and then to come up with the most outrageous claims that create "engagement"? Or because it’s not really about direct conversation made of short messages when everyone wants to "win" the argument, but favors calm analysis instead. Anyway, I just can’t go there anymore right now, too much hate and stupidity, I’m glad there’s still blogs like you and a few others to enjoy some ST escapism.

Twitter's short form context was pretty great when it came out years ago. "Tweets" were generally someone putting random thoughts out in the aether or a quick notification or an alert to check out news on this site or that site. I feel like it wasn't meant for what it is today, for people to be interacting with each other in a meaningful way. Like, what are you gonna talk about in 100 characters or less? That's why you'll sometimes see old tweets of celebrities floating around of the most random nonsensical statements with no context. That's what twitter was as its core.

Now combine that with people starting to use twitter for more than just random thoughts that popped into peoples head. It started to be used for political activism (which isn't necessarily a bad thing) and fandom activities.

We all know how bad politics fandom can get on long form sites like tumblr and reddit. Imagine how much worse it is when you cut away all context and nuance to fit in a tweet.

Imo, it set twitter on a downward spiral. Doesn't matter how much they increase the character limit, the culture now is tweet fast. React fast. Argue fast. If you lose, resort to other means. Anything to win. Anything to get your tweets more attention that the other person.

It's like a game. I'm sure that plays into the desire to be "famous" that a lot of social media enjoyers crave.

I'm not saying tumblr is much better, but I feel the culture here is more like "take your time" or "time doesn't matter, old stuff is good". Tumblr does have an issue with people not reblogging content, causing good posts and content to go unnoticed given there is no real algorithm here, which is sad. But for the most part, ain't nobody here trying to get famous. Everything is talking and creating stuff for the sake of it.

Most of the time even the people arguing here are arguing about stuff that happens off site or they stay in their corners and tag correctly. (if you don't tag correctly and start fights on purpose, I immediately assume you must be from twitter)

People who have been here on my blog for a while are probably thinking "Tch, what do you know about fandom conflict?" and let me tell you, in my youth I participated in a ship war. It was just one,but still. I didn't resort to name calling or doxing people though, that's for sure. I wrote essays and essays in response to people, defended my ship, made stuff for my ship (which I still do), the whole shebang. It was all here on tumblr and deviantart. I do have a twitter for that fandom but I don't use it for any drama. I can say the drama on twitter is MUCH WORSE than anything I experienced on tumblr.

That is the ST fandom on twitter in a nutshell. No one can mind their own business. They're constantly spying on each other, posting using common search terms of the people they don't like and then acting surprised when the people they don't like respond to them. It's all like a game. Every blue moon when I go there to see if there's WillEl things, inevitably I will see shippers using it to fight against each other or crap on Will or El.

Once a week it's the same suspects saying the same things over and over again. Finding something pointless to be mad about. Sending angry anon messages. Never actually sitting down to enjoy the ships/relationships they claim to be a fandom of. Cannot mind their business and always have something negative to say. Denying what is literally in the show because they personally don't like it. Literally the worst kind of people to have in your fandom. (I associate that kind of behavior with like.... Riverdale drama or something. Sorry if you're a Riverdale fan. Lol)

In conclusion, yeah. I think twitter is that way because the short form context has breed a culture of "win or lose". Mixed with a little bit of celebrity idolization and a desperate desire for people to interact with you even if it's negative.

[tallfroggieart]

It's rude to insult Marina, even where she has nothing to do with it, and then pretend to be victims. If you really wanted her harassment to stop, you would have left her alone yourself. But you just like to bully a person, admit it.

Sweetheart I have never come after Marina a day in my life. I have never made a single post about her. I answered exactly one (1) ask request that she sent me with a denial of that request, and she proceeded to harass me in my tags, replies, asks, DMs, and AO3. This doesn’t count the posts she made about the situation that I was not tagged in to defend myself, nor does it count her fans coming at me as well.

I’ll be straight with you, since that seems to be your preference. I responded to Marina's ask with the full intention of not ever reaching out to her further. She escalated the situation. She opened our DMs. She spammed my notifications for hours (although I keep them off, so it didn't actually do much). Quite frankly, your argument applies more to her than it does to me. She insulted me and played victim -- you can see the screenshots of her spamming my DMs, non-consenually sending NSFW content, repeatedly calling me a pig in this post, which also has examples of similar harassment that she has done to many others on this site.

She was the one to harass me and refuse to leave me alone. And whether or not she is responsible for this ask and the recent asks that I have been getting, one of which was a request for a drawing of an abusive ship that has been used in the past in a deliberate attempt to harm my mutuals, her influence has undoubtedly poisoned many people's experiences in this fandom.

I'm literally Just Some Guy. I drew ship art because someone else requested it -- and if I find out that you're harassing him because he didn't request anonymously, I'll stop playing nice. I mean it. I'm perfectly fine dealing with you people. Nothing you have ever said or will ever say will mean anything to me, because I don't fucking know you and so I don't fucking care. But not everyone is like that.

You're the bullies in this situation. Please go outside, touch some grass, and think about what you're doing.

[ajokeformur-ray]

hiii erika <3 i’m a long term follower who literally adores u (and arthur) like i’ve had ur notifs on forever basically 🥹❤️ and i’ve actually never ever felt confused by anything you’ve posted before so i wanna get your response to something!! i know its not your responsibility to coddle me but i’m really interested to know more about why you’re anti vegan cus i’ve never really heard of that before!! veganism has been something so positive for me, and now i’m (by no fault of yours) feeling insecure like it might be bad in some way or if i’m missing something cus u tagged that it’s dangerous or kills people and i was like 😳‼️‼️⁉️

for context i have also been bothered by many products being branded as plant based because it feels so unnecessary, overpriced, and makes people feel like.. almost holier-than-thou for buying it. i absolutely under no circumstances think i’m better than someone who consumes animal products (like, at all!!!) and really cannot stand people who think they are… it pisses me off so bad. i was wondering if that is the kind of mindset that makes you anti vegan? or if there is some other reason you are that maybe vegans should know about? sorry for the rant on my anon soap box & feel free not to respond love ya !

Hiiii nonnie!!!💖

I want to say again that I didn't expect anyone to see that post; it was a throwaway thought with throwaway comments and I wasn't necessarily prepared for a discussion on what I wrote, so please forgive me if I word anything badly!!!💖 I'm honoured that you've had me on notifs, omg????🥺🥺🥺🥺that's so sweet of you🥺🫂🫂🫂I'd love to talk with you about Arthur if you ever want to!!!🫂💖

I also wanna apologise for making you feel insecure about veganism, I really didn't mean to do that 😭as I said, it was a throwaway post and throwaway tags and I didn't mean to upset anyone by it 😭 if veganism is positive for you, then that's WONDERFUL and I'm happy you found a lifestyle/diet you enjoy and connect with!!!💖

I'm antivegan for multiple reasons. First is, as you mention, some people take it WAY too far and make it a point of "I'm better than you because I can afford to follow X lifestyle" and that pisses me off as much as it pisses you off!!! Second, is like I said in my previous veganism ask, vegan products make my food as a person with coeliacs disease even more expensive because not only do I have to buy an expensive pepperoni pizza which isn't actually pepperoni and isn't actually cheese, but I then have to buy animal product cheese and meat to go on the pizza because I AM gluten free but I'm NOT vegan so I have no choice but to buy more food and therefore spend more money just to have an animal product pizza which is also gluten free. That's where a lot of my antiveganism stems from, because it's EVERYWHERE and I have no choice but to passively support it because I want to eat🙃Veganism is a choice for most people. Being gluten free for medical reasons is not. It's very frustrating and expensive already, even before having to compensate for the lack of animal products in a great deal of the food I'm forced to eat for allergy reasons.

Also, I don't agree with some of the veganism products such as, like I already said, freeze dried coffee granules being advertised as plant based (????) or pleather!!! Plastic leather is more harmful to the environment than actual leather from a cow, which is biodegradable and a natural byproduct AND lasts longer than plastic leather. And also, I don't like the way bees are treated; "honey is bad for us, bees are made into slaves" is just... it's wrong. Us eating honey is GOOD FOR BEES and actually, if bees weren't happy with their beekeepers, they would literally just leave the hive. They have a symbiotic relationship with us which serves both sides and I don't like how there's this anti-honey rhetoric just because honey is a natural byproduct AND DOES NOT HURT BEES. It HELPS them. But this falls into the "some vegans take it too far" thing.

To summarise, while veganism practices may be good for the environment, it's also more harmful in other ways. But that's true of anything, not just veganism and I'm aware I do have a bias and some gaps in my education on veganism. I'm working on it.💖

So those are some of the reasons. But my biggest antiveganism reason is how genuinely dangerous it is - it can and HAS actually killed people from malnutrition and these videos of "before and after veganism" are all over YouTube. I will say, though, those tend to be absolute WORST CASE and are not true for everyone. Media sensationalises both sides of a story. But some people do absolutely take it too far and those are the people who tend to unfortunately die as a direct result of veganism.

So those are some of my reasons for being antivegan. I do have some gaps in my education on the topic as I said and it's incredibly nuanced, a discussion I wasn't necessarily prepared for after posting a very casual "throw my thoughts to the void" post and I'm so sorry for any offence or upset I've caused. I didn't mean to but that doesn't diminish the actual harm🫂if veganism is something you love and enjoy, then I say go for it!!!! Do what you love, do what makes you feel good and is best for you, and you can't go wrong!! It's just not right for me.💖

I hope this answers some of your questions, nonnie🫂 I love you too and I hope you're okay!!!💖

[crowleytwstrp]

Guidelines

Anyone may interact though for anyone wanting to use their oc I do request that anonymous not be used. I want to be certain the actual owner of the character is wanting to interact. I may direct-message any oc-askers if I'm unable to find information about the oc. Linking to a oc's bio or giving a description within the ask about the oc is greatly appreciated.

If the ask doesn't specify who the asker is, I will assume the asker is supposed to be Yuu, the Ramshackle Prefect from another world. If you want thoughts about your oc, please clarify if you mean you want Crowley's thoughts on a being in universe, Crowley's thoughts on a made-up character, or if you're asking the mod for her thoughts. I probably should assume it to be the first option, but sometimes I can get confused.

Hate for Crowley is alright with me as long as it's nothing like a graphic description of gutting the man. I may not respond to any hate sent in as depending on it I might want to hold onto it and make one post for a compilation of general annoyance for the character.

Flirting is alright with me as long as it's sfw and not from a minor nor a student of Night Raven College. This does mean that the asker will need to clarify who the asker is rp-wise. If a pick-up line is sent but no clarification if the asker is supposed to be a student or a teacher or whoever, then it will be deleted.

If any asks sent in have any potentially triggering stuff, such as spiders, which would trigger arachnophobia, I will be reworking the ask. This means I will rewrite the ask into a post. I will tag the asker if it wasn't anonymous so a notification should still reach them. I will put the possible offending material under the cut off / read more section of the post.

Please do look for any warnings on posts with read more before expanding them. I will try to tag and catch any triggering stuff, but I'm not fully aware of all possible upsetting material. If any of my posts have missed any of that, please let me know so I can add trigger warning tags to them. I wish for this to all be a fun and light-hearted role-play blog.

I might switch from styles of using quotation marks when Crowley speaks to no quotation marks at all. No quotation marks usually means it's just Crowley speaking. If I do use quotation marks, that may mean I'm having Ghost Janitor interact as well or it made more sense to do so for me at the time. Sorry if that ends up annoying, I'm a bit new to this so there may be some awkward moments as I figure this out.

I only have access to the English server so please don't request anything that's only out in the Japanese server. This is a sideblog for fun and I wont always react in the way I think Crowley would really behave. I may be silly or ridiculous with how I have Crowley act.

I may not answer asks in a timely manner. I'm prone to bouts of laziness. If you're worried that your ask hasn't been received, you may dm me. Though I'm not sure if this blog can receive dms, so feel free to dm my main/mod blog. If you are dming my main blog about an ask sent here, please let me know you mean an ask sent to this blog.

Mod blog is @axvwriter If anyone wishs to refer to me directly on this blog, they may call me “Axvie” or “Ghost Janitor”.

[al1x00]

HELP MY PHONEE DIDN'T GIVE ME THE NOTIFICATION SO WHEN I WENT TO CHECK YOUR BLOG I ALMOST JUMPED IN PLACE LMAO😭😭

⚠️CHAPTER 5 SPOILERS!!⚠️

Also I always read the tags before starting to read the chapter and I was relieved but also kinda concerned at the same time when I didn't read anything like "TW death" because like what? Not even a Katy moment™? NOT THAT I'M COMPLAINING OF COURSE I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO DIE EXCEPT THE PEOPLE THAT GET IN BETWEEN R AND HOBIE

OF COURSE WHEN WE FINALLY DECIDE TO TALK TO HIM SOMETHING HAPPENS, also I'm pretty sure he didn't actually mean to respond in that tone, he was probably worried by something OR SOMEONE, because why the fuck was he preparing his guns for? HUH?🤨🤨

The little girl with her parents reminds me so much of Mayday, Peter B. and MJ but I'm not sure about it😭😭 anyway Clementine is such a sweet kid she just made me go "aww🥺🥺" all the time

NOO WHY ARE THEY ARGUING FJSOCJJSFLAAAA😭😭😭 I THOUGHT WE MADE SOME PROGRESS COME ONN

Also the song "Breaking the girl" by Red Hot Chili Peppers is literally OPIN Hobie and R😭😭

EXCUSE ME R'S AUNT DID WHAT? NAH THAT'S JUST CRUEL IT'S EVEN SOME SORT OF "PUNISHMENT" ANYMORE. R is really god's strongest soldier because I couldn't have endured what she went throught.

OH SO IT WAS R'S UNCLE WHO TRIED TO KILL HOBIE? THIS BITCH. Seriously though, can't he be happy if his niece has someone special? CAN'T THEY DO ONE FUCKING THING RIGHT?

AND NOT ONLY DID HE SLASH HIS THROAT, BUT HE EVEN TRIED TO BURY HIM ALIVE UNDER THE SAME FUCKING TREE THEY ALWAYS MET UNDER? THAT IS TWISTED AND SO FUCKING SICK

"You're my peace" SBSJKFKAKAAAAA KATY HOS DARE YOU MAKE ME VIOLENTLY SOB FOR THE THIRD TIME SINCE I STARTED READING THIS CHAPTER. THEY LOVE EACHOTHER SO MUCH, EVEN AFTER ALL THEY'VE BEEN THROUGHT😭😭 JUST LET THEM HAVE WHAT THEY WANT FOR ONCE IN THEIR LIVES PLEASE

AND OF COURSE WHEN THEY FINALLY HAVE A GOOD MOMENT BETWEEN THEM SOMEONE HAS TO COME IN AND TRY TO KILL THEM BOTH. KATY WHEN I CATCH YOU KATY I SWEAR👹

AAAA THEY KISSED!!! AAA I'M SO HAPPY I'M BOUNCING ALL OVER THE PLACE

Atleast we didn't have to wait so long like for BDAS💀 poor R and Hobie were getting interrupted every goddamn time

Hobie while R kills a man with a kick from her horse like: "Ah yes, the love of my life🥰"

ALSO YES, KILL ALL THE FUCKERS WHO GET IN YOUR WAY

"He takes one last look at you, as if this is the last time he'd ever set eyes on you"

Katy? I'm keeping an eye on you. Y'know, just to make sure YOU DON'T END UP KILLING ONE OF THEM, OR WORSE, BOTH🥰

BUT OH LORD THIS WAS A HELL OF CHAPTER I LOVED ITT, can't wait to see what happens next but at the same time i'm really scared because it's really close to ending and what if something bad happens yknow?😭😭 Anyway thanks for the awesome chapter! Ly❤️

(Also I may finish one of the drawings next week! I finally finished my exams and I finally have free time again!!😽😽)

On these Metal Tracks I Lay Myself Bare

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 6.5k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mention, CW guns, TW violence, CW injury, Cowboy AU, wild west AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 5 >>> CHAPTER 6

The train station is packed with people, all finely dressed, waiting along the tracks, their luggages weighing heavy in their hands. The place smells of iron and steel, sweat soaked wood and rough leather. Your eyes wander around the station, domed ceilings loom above, carvings of horses and birds decorate the chestnut wood. Sunlight filters through the cracks, rays of light acting as a spotlight to the ornate building. It's a busier train station than the town you were in, the city you've stopped in is huge in comparison to the little towns you've passed by. The station is full of ticketing booths, lines stretching a few feet away that are full of impatient passengers. You look across the train tracks, seeing parents chastising their children, hearing hurried murmurs from husbands, holding their wives’ hands even though the luggage in their hand slows them down. You look at Hobie's gloved hand that's resting upon the ticket booth, you stare at it longingly, eyes getting glossy by the minute.

He's taking you home, and just like back home, you have no say in it.

A train whistle echoes, a signal of its metallic arrival. Its steel body creaks as it stops, its copper inlay is slowly turning green, and there's rust around the wheels. Soon, the station fills with smoke, dark tar belching smoke that sticks to your lungs as you cough. You feel a warm hand on your back, in a second you look back, the warmth is gone.

“You alright?” Hobie asks, lighting up a cigarette in-between his lips.

“It's the smoke,” you say, scratching at your throat that he cannot keep looking at for the scar in his neck throbs at the memory from the mundane act.

“Alright,” without a second thought, he takes his freshly lit cigarette from his mouth and then flicks it away from you, embers fly off in the distance just before it lands on the dirt outside.

You feel like the golden light in the summer. “I was talking about the coal smoke from the train. But that works too, thank you.”

He scoffs, a small smile ghosting over his lips. “Right, didn't do it for you, I did it for myself. Heard it kills people y'know.” Nudging you, he doesn't expect for you to shuffle away. Blinking, he avoids your eyes, “that's our train, it's an overnight one so we can rest in our cabin.” He tugs you in by the sleeve of your coat that's tucked in between his middle and forefinger, guiding you towards the waiting doors.

“That's good.” You follow, eyes trained on his back lest you get lost.

As much as you don't want to go home, you still don't want to leave him despite your mind telling you to forget about him and just leave on Cherry and wander around the west like a tumbleweed caught in the wind. You'd probably last a week.

Hobie stops by the doors, waiting in line with the other passengers. You flick your eyes downwards, his fingers wrapped around your sleeve, not taut, just holding you close to him as the crowd grows. So close to your own hands, yet so far from your heart.

“Tickets?” The man clad in a blue uniform asks, Hobie shows the pink papers and the man nods.

You enter the train car, it's a cute little thing filled with blue velvet curtains with golden tassels, and carpeted floors that run towards the end of the car. On your left are filled with little cabins, with clear windows that you can see through inside. It's big enough for at least four people, five if possible, though it would be a tight fit. The hallway is already small enough that only two people could walk side by side, you'd like to walk side by side with him, unlike now that you walk behind him, behind his shadow that gathers around you like dandelions in the spring.

“This is us,” he stops at cabin number three, opening the door with a creak, he leans away to let you enter first. Closing the door behind him, he pulls down all the curtains so that wandering eyes can't watch your every move. It's bad enough that there's a bounty on both of your heads, you don't want gossiping passengers peering inside.

There are four collapsible beds on each wall, all held by golden ropes, bed sheets in rich red cloth, pillows fluffed to perfection and blankets neatly folded. Hobie scooches in between you and the beds to close the top bunks so that there's more space for his tall frame. He has taken his hat off not for politeness but if he wore it inside it'll be squished by the low ceiling. Then there's the large window that sits across the door, before you could take note of the people outside, Hobie shuts the curtains close.

“What do you think?” He asks, taking his jacket off with a flourish. “It's not even close to the ones back home but it'll do for now. We'll be train hopping to get our scents off the lawmen.”

“It's nice— wait, train hopping?” You sit down on one of the beds, the mattress is surprisingly soft under you. “Please don't tell me we'll be jumping from train roof to train roof.”

Hobie chuckles, copying your actions, sitting across from you. Back resting against the wall, comfortably slouching. “Think you can handle it?”

“God, no.” You can't help but rest your tired head upon the goose feather pillow.

“Good, because we're not doin' that, love.” Again, he copies you. Arms tucked under his head, eyes above the ornate ceiling. “We’re not gettin' off at the last station, so we'll be ridin’ with Buck and Cherry for a bit and then to another train station. Confuse the wankers with our brilliant wiles.”

You lift your head off the pillow, and in turn, Hobie turns his head to look at you. “Wait, what about the horses?”

“They'll follow the train.” He smiles.

“Follow? Like they have our scents?” Hobie laughs, not teasingly, no, it's full of endearment, chuckling softly, but it flies over your head.

“Don't laugh. It's a genuine question.” You roll your eyes with slight amusement.

“They're in the back carriage,” he tamps down his laugh but his smile stays.

After that silence prevails in your cabin as the train slowly chugs on, sharp whistles piercing your eardrums, and the hum of machinery bringing you back home. You want to speak to him, to finally tell him of all your concerns about going home, going back to them. But most of all, you want him to speak to you about everything, to tell you how he was faring for the last five years, and how he became such a terrifying figure to outlaws. You want him to just…talk, and make up for lost time. You gather the courage, but just as you were about to speak, he no longer lies across from you. Hobie is sitting on the bed, body facing the door, hands busy with oiling his guns.

“Hobie…I—”

“What is it?” He flicks his eyes briefly to you, his tone was sharp, but he didn't mean it, blaming it for his own worries and fatigue. He'd say something about it but you're already facing away from him. Back turned, blanket shielding you from him.

“Nevermind,” you mumble into the covers, falling into a deep slumber where the conversation happened in your dreams.

This goes on for three days, hopping from train to train, from busy cities to dead empty towns. You barely speak, talking only when Hobie asks you something. It's like you're back at that empty mansion, with only the plants to talk to.

Hobie silently hates it, he doesn't know what to make out any of it. You seem hungry so he gives you a can of strawberries, you look tired so he lets you sleep without him saying a word. When goosebumps appear on your arms he gives you a blanket, when you're nervous, lips bitten until it's bleeding, he leaves you alone to calm yourself down. None of it works, he misses your chatter that has kept him sane the entire journey. The silence gives him time to think though, a situation that he despises since nothing good has come out of all the thinking.

—

The rest of the journey goes without a hitch, except for that one bit where Bucky was stolen by an outlaw while you and Hobie were buying train tickets. You panic while he sits and waits. People look at you like you were a mad woman pacing back and forth, hand petting Cherry, voice whispering your thoughts to the poor hitched horse. And Hobie just…stares. After what seemed like forever, or fifteen minutes, Bucky returns, riderless, still has his saddle on his back, and seemingly chipper. Turns out, Hobie trained Buckeye to throw off would-be thieves, and this time, Bucky found a convenient ledge to throw this particular man off. You and Hobie quickly ushered both horses into the back just in case a sheriff comes looking for a murderous horse.

You've been seeing a few familiar faces in the crowd of travelers, the same children that's tugging at their father's coat, the same old couple that helps each other up on the platforms. Some have taken notice of you too, to which you smile politely at them while they wave kindly at you.

—

It's another warm humid day, another train to ride in. You don't bother to look at the interior this time, only deciding to sit on the cushy seat you were assigned to, sliding inside the booth, eyes already staring longingly at the outside world. Hobie once again tries to speak about something— anything to try to get you to finally speak your mind, but his rapid pulse tells him otherwise. So he clamps his mouth shut, deciding to sit across from you instead of sitting next to you like he wanted to.

He feels eyes on his form as he picks mud off his spurs, raising his head, he comes face to face with a freckled child staring at him curiously with her big blue eyes. Her tiny hands are curled around a teddy bear, her fiery red hair is tied into a neat ponytail. You notice her a second later, smiling softly at the child.

“Hello,” you greet kindly, and the girl scampers back to her family's seat, hiding her blushing face behind her mother's skirt.

“Sorry about that.” Her mother apologizes, round pregnant belly prominent as she tries to coax her daughter out. “This is Clementine, she's a bit shy.”

“That's alright,” you speak on behalf of Hobie. “Hi, Clementine, my name's Y/N, and this is my companion, Hobie.” The second your eyes meet his own, Hobie's breath gets stuck in his throat.

“Say hello, Clem, be polite.” The girl's father playfully pokes her side. Blue eyes hidden behind rounded glasses.

“Hi,” she says in a small voice, giggling when she looks back at Hobie.

“I think she has a crush on your husband.” Clementine's mother chuckles, patting her daughter's back for a job well done.

“My husband?” Panic sets in your chest until you see her gesturing towards Hobie. “Oh,” you chuckle shakily, fists bunched around your trousers.

Hobie notices, he doesn't say anything about it. He takes your reaction as something else, so to keep your embarrassment at bay, he tells the couple otherwise. “Not her husband. Just escortin’ her.”

The air becomes awkward. “Oh,” the mother rubs her belly, smiling gently. “Sorry, you two just look like a good pair.”

Her husband taps her shoe with his. “Just like us, eh, sweetheart?” The wife shakes her head with a bashful smile, bringing a grin to the man's lips. You start to think that this is what marriage is supposed to be. Caring, loving, clinging onto each other in the best way that doesn't stifle or choke, just love in its most natural form. It's unlike any marriages you've seen and experienced back home. “So where are you folks off to? I'm guessing south? We've been seeing you two around since Valentine, it's nice to have some company during the journey don't you think?”

Hobie doesn't sense malicious intent from the parents. “Sure, whatever you say, mate.”

“You're not from around here aren't you?” The little girl listens to the conversation, head moving from side to side whenever someone speaks. “That's alright,” she laughs softly, rummaging for something in her bag. Hobie has his thumb pressed along the side of his gun. “I can tell you'll be good neighbors,” she hands you a small jar of honey, it's bright yellow and clear, you wish you had some tea to go with it. Hobie breathes a sigh of relief. “Here you go!”

“Oh no thank you, we can't possibly take it.”

“Please do.” The husband says, “we used to have a colony of bees, but we had to sell them all before we moved.”

“We have dozens of unsold honey, we're honestly just looking to get rid of it before we get to our destination. They're heavy, y'know.” His wife finishes for him. “Clem, can you give it to sweet Y/N for me?”

“That's so kind of you.” You smile, nodding. “You're moving to the south?”

“Okay.” She happily takes it, walking across the aisle to you and Hobie. Unsurprisingly, she gives it to Hobie instead of you. “Here you go.” She copies her mother.

Hobie takes the jar with trepidation. “Thank you?”

You quiet down a laugh while Clementine’s parents guffaw across you.

“Oh she's in love.” The mother says, arms raised to embrace her daughter who welcomes her touch. You can't help but feel a pang in your heart at her love for her child. “And yes we're going to be living there with my in-laws. Rent has gone too high in the west, y'know.” You nod along, making friendly conversation.

“Wish I had tea,” you hear Hobie mumble. You smile softly at his words.

—

It's been a couple of more trains, and more smoke in your lungs, you start to feel like your hands are starting to smell like the steel that you now know as your temporary home. The scenery outside your window has changed. From grassy dusty plains of tumbleweeds and windmills to rolling mountains that rise up high with large looming trees that shield you from the sun. Soon your view will be full of the southern charm, but you don't look forward to it, being there means that you're closer to getting back to the place you dread.

You've grown quite close to Clementine and her little family, even the other familiar passengers that are heading the same way as you are quite fond of you as well. You eat breakfast with them, have afternoon tea, and have even introduced Cherry and Bucky to the children. They've lovingly named them both ‘horsies,’ to which you'd always giggle at.

Clementine has latched onto you, you teach her about plants and flowers, and have her draw them for you just like you've sweetly described it to her. But when Hobie's near, she opts to be his shadow for the time being, following him everywhere until her mother calls her back. Hobie is half annoyed that he can't find the time to speak to you, but he's glad that there's someone as a mediator between the two of you or he'll start vomiting out words that may or may not make the situation worse.

Your back aches at the lumpy mattress that you've unfortunately landed into. You can't help but give up the assigned cabin for you and Hobie to Clementine and her family since the beds are much more comfortable in that cabin. So you offered to exchange it, citing that the mother, Florence, you've come to know, needs it more because of the growing baby in her. She gratefully gave you another jar of honey for your sacrifice.

Hobie enters the booth, heavy boots thumping against darkened wood, spurs clicking, footsteps rolling along like a thick heavy fog of loneliness.

“Where were you?” He asks even though he's afraid that he'd be overbearing. His worries win over him.

You grip the spine of the borrowed book, knuckles tightening, eyes drawn downwards to the written word that spells out ‘grief.’ “I visited Cherry, I don't want her to be lonely.” You barely look at him.

Hobie flexes his hands not out of anger, no, out of fear of losing you, this time, just like the last time he did, he doesn't know why or how he could even lose you. He sits down across from you, bed creaking from his weight. He tries to play as the nonchalant cowboy like he always had for the past five years.

“Clementine was lookin' for you.” *I was looking for you. “Cherry won't be lonely, she has Bucky with her.”

“Bucky hasn't been much help when all he does is look at her. Not much of a conversationalist.” You flick your eyes over to him, flashes of anger and hopelessness are melted into your irises.

“Maybe Bucky just doesn't have the words.”

“And maybe Cherry just wants to talk to him.”

“That fuckin’ horse,” he laughs, you don't find the humour in his words. But he clearly does. Your anger flies over his head. “that horse is already worth half of your bounty.” His words are a sharp sting in your arteries. “If she actually speaks she'll be worth it.”

“And what if she doesn't? That she's not worth your damned money?” You toss the book aside. Anger seeping out of your pores. “You'll sell her after you bring me in to my aunt?” Your voice breaks, and you hate yourself for it. “Am I just that to you? A bounty?” The dam breaks, and everything you've kept to yourself bursts open.

“That's not—” The heart that he has sewn together breaks at the seams.

You abruptly stand up, tears pricking your eyes. Inhaling, you stare down the man you love. The only man you've ever loved. “You are not what I hoped to find when I escaped on that ship.”

Before he could say something, anything, you disappeared into another train car, and amidst the metallic halls.

—

Another grueling day, another steel cage to get into. The train whistles as it comes to a stop, you've grown acclimated to the smell of burning coal, you let it coat your lungs as you enter the train with Hobie silently trailing after you.

Your eyes are glossed over, red and swollen from the sobs you've let out over the course of the last sixteen hours. Hobie hasn't talked to you since then, always looking at your back, face unreadable. You pass by familiar faces, you don't acknowledge them. You're tired, bones aching, muscles twitching from lack of sleep and water. Head thrumming, you enter your designated cabin like a doe who has lost its way.

There's a sinkhole underneath your feet, slowly it eats at you, up to your shins and up your thighs, coating your flesh in mud and dirt. You don't tug at him anymore, the small ember of hope in your chest has diminished, instead, you let the ground swallow you whole— letting it suffocate you, letting it drown your lungs in soil.

Just like he did on the first train ride, there's four beds on each wall, but instead of an empty space in the middle, there's a little foldable table. You close the top bunks and lay down on one of the bottom ones, head heavy against the soft pillow. You feel his presence behind you, and then a cool steel atop your bicep. You flinch away, thinking it was a barrel of a gun.

“I figured you're thirsty.” He says, hand hovering above your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down. The train whistle rings out, and the engine whirrs and starts up as more smoke bellows outside your window.

You take the flask, sitting up to take a drink. He sits across from you, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him.

Hobie sees the glow of your ring, he instinctively brings his hand up to his own that has made its home around his neck; hidden behind his clothes, finding comfort in its gilded form, the closest thing he can get to you.

“Why do you still hold on to me? After all these years?” He asks, eyes swirling with unknown emotion.

“Why did you let me go?” You answer, and that was the end of the conversation. Then it hits you, he truly doesn't love you anymore.

—

Night comes, and with it your sadness comes flooding through you, getting in the corners, slithering around every crevice— it has memorized your form and made it its home.

Weirdly enough, Hobie hasn't left the cabin, his lingering presence doesn't stifle you, unlike the man back at home who watches you with piercing glares. Even with your fury, your mind still finds comfort in Hobie.

He hears your almost silent cry, he wants to hold on to you, to brush his palms on your cheeks, to wipe away the tears and press his lips against your own. But he can't, or you'll think that he didn't mean it, that he only did it to make you calm down. It would be a cheap satisfaction for the both of you.

“I didn't let you go, I had to go.” He suddenly says above the quiet cutting of an apple in his hand, leaving pieces of it on your side just in case you want it. His voice doesn't waver, perhaps he has been saying the exact words to you in his mind for the past five years. You still have your back turned facing him as the deep rumble of the train goes on. “I was young and stupid. I was forced—”

You suddenly turn towards him, sitting up on the lumpy mattress. “And I was young and stupid too, yet I knew in my heart that running away with you wasn't foolish. Was it stupid to you? Escaping with me? That you'd rather run away, alone, to another country than be with me?” The memory of a young you waiting for him with your luggage in your grip has you seething.

Hobie matches your anger, hunting knife pausing on the red apple. “Did you hear what I said?” He angrily skins the fruit, slicing and dicing at its flesh. “You have no idea what I've done to survive. I have endured a lot to be where I am now—”

“And what of what I endured?!” You stand up, taking your bag, rummaging through it. “I'm truly sorry for whatever happened to you— but how could I apologize for something that I don't even know?” You toss the letters on the desk after struggling to take it out of the bag. “There! The letters that were sent back to me because I had no idea where you would be! Read them, and you'll know of the things I've endured. Unlike you who would rather look at me with contempt than tell me why I deserve that horrid gaze.” You gasp for air, he lets you speak, his own anger dissipating, fear once again encompasses him. “I thought you were dead, everyone kept telling me you were, but I didn't believe them. It's been years, my hands are raw from— I mourned you.” You pause, watching your golden ring glow in the lampshade. “Do you know how much that hurt? To start to believe their words? To lose hope? I didn't know where you were but you knew where I was and yet, not a single fucking letter went my way.”

Hobie stares at the letters spilled all over the table, apple juice seeping into the yellowed paper. He takes one, the oldest looking one that has its edges burned. Breaking the wax seal, he reads as he listens to your words coated in venom and grief.

“One letter, Hobie, and I would've understood. Then I wouldn't have come after you if you just told me you didn't want to be with me anymore.” You nod, “and now you're bringing me home, to the same people who would rather keep me locked up and tell me lies. I don't know how your letter got in my possession, but now I know that you didn't mean anything you wrote in it.�� For five years you've asked yourself, ‘was it me?’ ‘Was I the reason you left?’ you never got the answer to your question, so now you ask him finally. “Was it me?”

Hobie raises his head to look upon your sorrow, his hand shakes at the act they've done to you the second he escaped. He had thought they'd leave you alone, that they'd finally let you go once he was gone and forgotten; but he never thought it would get worse, the hurtful words and slaps on the wrists were nothing compared to what they've done after that night he was almost buried alive— the night you tried to escape with him. His mind draws the scene, blood coating your knees, your pained cry as your aunt jabs your hands with the tip of a fountain pen. And then her words of hollow apologies as she heals your wounds so that it wouldn't scar. You're filled with them, invisible to the eye, but not to you, the only person who has felt every single torturous wound.

‘It's terrible,’ you wrote, ‘not ever seeing you again.’ And he agonizingly read it. No, it wasn't you, it was them, them who would rather commit murder just to mimic what he had. Hobie can't form coherent words at what he just read, anger and sadness piercing his veins like a poisoned arrow of guilt.

You sniff, wiping the tears in your eyes as he just stares back at you. His hands shakes, paper crumpling under his tight grip, he needs to bring you home. But not there, not at the gilded cage he left you in.

The cruelty of memory has plagued you, you try to remember, you reminisce, but did it actually happen? Did all his love for you even happen?

“You don't have to keep reading,” you say solemnly, “it doesn't matter now, we're nearly there.” With a slide of the door, you leave.

—

After the twelfth tear stained letter, with his own tears flowing down and leaving moistened webs on the paper, he has had enough. His eyes always seem to see the same words now, ‘was it me?’ ‘Are you alive?’ and ‘When will you come back?’ Hobie hasn't even made a dent on the letters, barely reading half of the pile of longing you've left. Hobie's mind swirls into different emotions, going through every scenario where he didn't run away, where he came back for you while clutching his still bleeding throat and body covered in moist soil.

He was foolish to try and push you away, to hold you at arm's length, to only look at you like he has let the poisonous words thrown at him by the very same man that gave him the scar curl around him like blackened smoke that stains his clothes. He thought that wanting you back would bring nothing but hurt, especially that he thought that he didn't deserve it. To want is his demise, to have you again in his arms is his folly, but what a wonderful folly it would be.

How could he do all of that to you when his scarred flesh is in the shape of your name.

He pockets the letters, tucking it inside his waist coat, right above his heart just to feel your words through them. The door opens with a click, and he walks towards your direction like a compass built inside him that always points towards you. His fingers glide along the scar on his neck, raised skin felt through his gloves as he walks from carriage to carriage. Where there's open air in between, cool breeze stinging his moistened cheeks. Then he stops at the edge of a crowd, a jaunty tune plays from a traveling musician, playing for a scrap of coins in the corner. People gather around the brightly lit bar, alive and happy, and there you are standing as if you're frozen in time. As if he's seeing you just how he left you.

Amidst the familiar faces within the crowd that gathers in the small bar to converse, he stares at you, and by some miracle, you stare back at him, meeting his jade eyes that are surrounded by a sickened red. There's a soft, ghost of a smile on your lips, even after what you've told him— eyes full of love for the same man who has your heart in the palm of his hands; gentle, caring and yet unknowingly the only person that could truly hurt you the most without the painful slap of a wooden board against your back. It brings him back in time, under the cloudy gas light and the whir of the metal machines whose maw opens and closes to reveal heated metal— His mouth opens and he says the exact same thing that he has been saying every single time his eyes meet yours in secret— ‘meet you back at home.’ He utters, a promise kept under the smell of unlit gunpowder and cheap champagne that your aunt always buys to placate the workers. And you say the same words back without a bated breath— ‘wait for me.’ You almost cry out into the crowd, you'd scream it if it weren't for the forbidden relationship. It has been like that through every cheap congratulatory milestone the factory and your aunt has thrown. You don't speak to him, but your longing eyes do. He doesn't come near you, but his hand would always gravitate towards your velvet clad hand. ‘No one else knows.’ ‘No one else knows,’ those words echo in your mind like a root taking its place. Yet, someone saw, it only takes one good pair of eyes to see the growing love between you— ‘no one knows,’ he mirrors, but one does. It only takes one to set off a domino effect, an effect that would lead to his attempted murder, and to your demise that he isn't fully privy to. ‘No one knows,’ ‘no one knows,’ you whisper to yourself as you pack your bags to escape the life you haven't got a say in. No one knows, and yet, one did, and that one got your love's neck slashed and buried alive in the same soil you once kissed above on, under the same tree that you were supposed to meet in.

He wondered why you didn't show up, but the one that knew did. No one knows, and the one that did lived in your house, ate your food, shared a bed with your aunt— a story told through a letter from a man he once worked with, a man who now has one eye, a man that helped dig him out of the shallow grave they've put him in, waiting to bleed out in the earthbound soil. A dangerous letter that he had burned in the fire from anger. He wanted revenge, but you would be the cost. So he survived and killed, and survived again, always seeing you in the corner of his eye, always hearing your almost forgotten voice when he's on the edge of sleep. He survived and now he's here, meeting with your eyes amidst the crowd once again— with the evidence of his survival curling around him like a heavy rope, and your own hovering above you like a grey cloud that threatens to spill, yet he still utters the same words above the murmuring happier crowd, “meet you back at home.” His throat closes in around the words, almost screaming it to the crowd.

A tear slips from your eyes that are full of woe, and you say the words back, quieter, unsure, yet, the love is still there— “wait for me.”

Hobie breathes for the first time, his feet carrying him around the crowd, weaving through bodies to get to you while you stand still, waiting for him, watching as he desperately trudges to get to you.

You look just like how he remembered, standing by the oak tree, waiting for him even if his hands are stained black from grease— you'd still hold his hand. Now his hands are soiled in crimson that drips onto the floorboards, and yet you still hold your hand out towards him. He would atone for his sins if that's what you'd ask of him, but no one would grant him his penance, he has accepted that fact long ago. Only your touch could mimic it.

Hobie finally makes it to you, now he stands in front of your form, now he notices your hand grasping his own. Featherlight, unsure, if he'd reciprocate, giving him enough time to shake you off. But he doesn't, instead, he holds on to you tighter as he leads you outside of the noisy carriage and away from prying eyes, what he should've done all those years ago.

Hobie tugs you out of the hole that has consumed you.

Silently, you follow him, squeezing his hand twice to let him know that you're right behind him without him looking over his shoulder to inspect. You feel his fingers run along the ring on your finger.

The sound of the metal wheels are loud in your ears, steam rolling off in waves as it warms your back. It's dark out, the moon above guiding his path while he opens the other door leading towards the last carriage that carries horses and baggage.

The moon has always been a comfort to you. You thought in those years without him that he'd be staring at the same moon as you, that at least you've still got a connection with him. Even if you weren't sure he'd be alive to look up at the sky. Arms suddenly envelopes you, hands cradling the back of your head to keep you close to him, face hidden in the crook of your neck.

You're the first one to speak while you tentatively raise your arms to embrace him back. He's warm, warmer than you remember. “Do you mean it?”

Hobie sniffs, diamonds rolling off his cheeks, a promise falling from his lips, “yes, I'll bring you home, my home.” He molds himself to the shape of you once again. An act that you've been trying to attain since the beginning of the journey, now you're both perfectly aligned with each other, heartbeats synching and full. “I'll tell you everything, everything you need to know.”

“Just the ones you're willing to tell, Hobie. I'm so sorry for yelling those words at you.” You hold his head in your hands, gentle, caring, cradling him like you're holding the moon. Guiding it upwards so you could stare at his viridescent eyes that's full of hope for the first time in years. But the gnawing in your mind draws too close to you. “They'll never stop, they will keep hunting us down.” A sob breaks through your throat, “You have to bring me to them.” Tears flow out of you, “or we'll never be at peace. You'll never be at peace.”

The horses neigh behind you, Cherry huffs while Buckeye just stares at the scene. The carriage rattles for a moment before Hobie leans, laying his forehead atop yours, squeezing the soft skin on your nape. He closes his eyes, inhaling you in, you almost crumble in his arms. You've dreamt of this day, dreamt of holding him like this once again.

“You're my peace.” he whispers, “They can try to ruin that peace, but I'll stop them. I'll kill them if I had to.”

“Okay,” you close your eyes, just as he opens his own. “Take me home.”

“‘m sorry,” he kisses your forehead, lips lingering, a heavy kiss that brings you back to life, mending all your doubts. “Let's go home, yeah?” Leaning away, his eyes dart over to a man coming your way, he doesn't find it suspicious, but then the stranger brandishes a gun, raising it over your head. “Y/N—!”

Your body flings off to the side, hip hitting harshly on the corner of a crate. Then a loud cackle of a gun goes off, the sound bouncing off the walls, gunpowder flying over head, hiding Hobie from your vision. You yell his name, but you can't hear your own voice from the ringing in your ears.

Everything happens slowly in your eyes. Smoke spreads as you see Hobie still standing and unscathed, gun raised, barrel aimed at the man's head. Said man runs towards him like a bull, making Hobie miss his shots. Yet the man still shoots at him, slower than Hobie but just as deadly. Hobie leans his head slightly to the side, effectively dodging a bullet. You scamper towards Cherry, lifting yourself up, waiting for the right moment. And then you slap your precious horse, making her kick before he could reach Hobie. Cherry's deadly kick hits the perpetrator right on his back, where a sickening crunch can be heard. The sheer force of the kick has dust flying off his body, and now he lays motionless on the wooden floor.

“Fuckin' hell.” Hobie gawps at you, smile spreading across his lips. “You alright?” He walks over to you, or tries to while Cherry gives one last kick towards the dead man.

“Yeah,” you nod, patting Cherry, Keeping her calm. “It's okay, girl. I'm so sorry.” You coo at her, Hobie goes around the horse to hold you. “Are you—?”

His arms wrap around your waist, lips smashing on yours. You inhale and it's already over. Even if it was quick, it wasn't a cheap satisfaction, it's everything. He pats your cheek affectionately, beaming at you, holding you close. “You're brilliant.” His thumb rubs softly where you hit your hip on the crate, a silent apology.

You smile, heart thumping loudly like an engine. “It was all Cherry.”

“Should I snog the horse now too?” Hobie says smugly, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“No, preferably just me, for now at least.” You tap his chest, bashfulness encompassing you.

“Nah, it's you until the end, love.” He clicks his forehead against yours, making you chuckle.

A scream rings out from the other carriage, hurried footsteps bounding away. “Do you think—?”

Hobie reloads his gun effortlessly, giving the spare one to you. “You're a better shot than me anyway.” He takes one last look at you, as if this is the last time he'd ever set his eyes on you. “Whoever they are, I'll cut through them. Cover my back?”

“Always,” You nod, taking the silver six-shooter, “then we'll go home after this.”

He grins, hope in his eyes. “Home, you'll love it there.”

“Let's cut through all of them then.”