#hmmm they're in love your honour

[devereaux]

SIMONE KESSELL as FAITH COOPER (part 3 of ? because i have no self-control) My Life Is Murder | 3.10 - Killer Fashion

[hammyham-o-o]

Can you show your 4 favorite fandoms?

OK :D

hmmm lets see...

#1 is HAMITLON MUAHAHA (no surprises there)

I'm gonna group amrev in with Hamilton too, bc even though they *are* two separate fandoms (if you can call amrev a fandom?) they're very much intertwined for me personally :3

I'm not really active in any other fandoms online, buuuut I also love:

#2 HEARSTOPPERRRR

SPECIFICALLY THE COMICS :D (I love the tv show too but the comics AHHHH THEY'RE JUST SO GOOD SDKJFGAKSD)

Also the whole osemanverse, really (all of Alice Oseman's books are *incredible*) (Charlie, Georgia, Pip, Francis, and Aled and my favourite beans and kindred spirits and I love them so much)

#3 KOTLC

I was OBSESSED with this series a while back... how long has it been now, six years? HOLY MOLY time flies 😂 Anyways even though I'm not as completely consumed by it anymore, Keeper of The Lost Cities is still making the list because it's JUST SO GOOD)

Also fun fact: the first fanfic I ever read was a KOTLC fanfic :3

(TEAM KEEFE FOR LIFE)

(SHANNON MESSENGER ILY BUT *PLZ* RELEASE THE LAST BOOK IM DYING HERE)

(WE NEED AN ENDING THAT'S NOT A CLIFFHANGER 😭)

#4 MAURADERSSS

I've been a HUGE Harry Potter fan since FOREVER (Jk Rowling is horrid though, I do not support her), and I just recently discovered the Mauraders fandom and AHHHHHH

I LOVE YOUNG REMUS AND SIRIUS AND WOLFSTAR AND JEGULUS DSKFJHAKDSJF

AND THE ANGST??? OMFG

I haven't read All The Young Dudes yet (waiting till school gets a little less busy) but I'm HYPED 🔥

HONOURABLE MENTIONS because I can't just leave these two out:

Percy Jackson (I had a HUGE greek mythology phase) and A Series of Unfortunate Events (The world is quiet here ;))

[oldsargasso]

ep 3 stream of conscious thoughts!

so I went and rewatched ep 2 in the hopes I might remember who is who🤞With the ending reveal that Tyme is working against the gambling ring, the way he listens to the woman in the hospital about how she lost her son to debt makes more sense now. Wondering if Tyme knew the son specifically, or someone like him - he obviously has a personal motivation to take out Great's family's business. (thunderstorm while she's talking - coming back I don't think we got a thunderstorm in ep3?)

also the fakeout on the identity of the dead guy is so perfect even second time around

I never noticed the hospital logo before; the cross with a heartbeat rhythm going through. subtle!

also how is Tyme literally looking in a mirror yet is surprised to find Bee behind him when he turns around. he must've really been focussed huh

the high-pitched flatline whine during serious moments…god this show is so good

okay NOW i'm gonna watch ep3

is that the body from ep2's first scene? my interest in the brother character (??name I should remember) would go up immeasurably if he was secretly a serial killer ngl. probably more like he's revenging his brother by killing his killer the same way which is also pretty good. coming back to remind myself his name is Tonkla.

oh Great asked him? hmmm.

bed #4 you love to see it!

so Tyme has a bit of a saviour complex. or control issues (relatable). Dr Den might be a little too emotional for this part of the job though

Great has a pool table in his place? I desperately need a floor plan of his apartment. how is he living like this. not the #4 ball as the phone shows 11:01 this episode was like SEE. DO YOU GET IT YET. idc I love it

do we think Great is a little dumb? if I thought I was seeing things and recently acquired a headwound I would definitely be seeing many doctors immediately. oooh LUCKY there is one doctor already on the case it seems

(so Tyme just showed up at Great's school - how does he know where Great goes to school/when he's there - and asks a random student to give Great a drink from him?)

"can you forgive me Great?" omgggg. vision of the future or a divergent timeline orrrrr.

I don't care if the flirting has ulterior motives it's adorable and I love it

so Great's ~episodes~ are 100% being used to get him to alter his actions/path to move toward Tyme. I like the theory that it's future-Great coding out manipulating his past self but also I enjoy the idea that it's someone else (Tyme himself?)

Tyme clearly thinking "okay so it's you…who should be a psychiatric patient". personally I would've been like let's go to the hospital and get an MRI or something but asking your friends is doing something too I guess

P'Tyme 🥺

I love how much interaction we get of Tyme and other staff in the hospital, so we get to see the different sides of him. the way he and Den are together is DELIGHTFUL.

fascinating (and feels a little like we're getting dessert first) that it's only ep3 and we're already getting the characters talking and linking things we as the audience got to do earlier, like the heart patient who mentioned 4 minute future to Den.

Tyme's already asking "why 4 minutes?" this show is so good to me. I have medical-related theory that I generally feel like the show will go for, but I'm interested to see how it plays out

they're on a date your honour. what if Tyme was hungry though. circling back to my "is Great just dumb" question because clearly it's going through Tyme's mind rn. I think it's just a matter of privilege in this case though.

Tyme's a nerd too. control issues peeking through!

(the need I have for a terrible cat soft toy is ever growing)

the juxtaposition of Great's (bright red) car against the dilapidated fence around Tyme's house…chef's kiss. I love that they're having a little conversation about their different statuses.

the way they perfectly captured the awkwardness of sitting in the car at the end of a date lmao. the heaviness/weight/don't know what word I mean in the way Great moved his arm was perfect.

(not really relevant to this scene but do we know how old Tyme is?)

Great truly living out the stereotype of held a guy's hand once and is already picturing their life together

it's interesting that they said specifically 4 minutes into the future but Great is clearly seeing more than that when he is with Tyme. they're gonna kiss and then Tyme's grandma is going to be standing there like :| OR NOT LMAO she's not even looking you can still go for it my guy

you may have ONE of the many cat toys we won

I know it was mostly a pause for emotional processing but good to see Great is the wait until you're inside kinda guy

my girl better be getting very richly rewarded for all the work she is doing to take down this gambling ring. I hope she gets to kill someone

NOOO. jump into the water!!

feel like the chief could've handled that better. and more privately. that was like textbook suspicious

omg that zebra artwork!!

okay I zoned out let me start this scene again. this couldn't have been a phone call? oh I guess not lol

couldn't even close the drawer properly smh rookie move

he's a cop!!! dude. not only is he grieving he's high af right now.

I'll be honest I skipped the sex scene so if it had important character work or something let me know

Tonkla's definitely using sex to foster intimacy I just hope he's doing it in a manipulative way

I guess it makes sense that they all go to the same school. a case for divergent timelines I think re: the identity of the deceased

smoking and watching traffic in his underwear, Great has the most relatable hobbies

ohhh progression!!! 11.02. two more minutes to go?

look at Great using 2 colours for his little brainstorming. now that is organised. I like how he immediately calls tyme like. maybe he's at work. (I think the "sex?" note should be screenshot and used everywhere)

"do not hurt her under any circumstances" except for she already got shot so

well I guess the good doctor is at work in a way. is this the most soundproofed open hallway in existence?

was that a look of recognition or not. I guess not. okay Tyme!!! we love a man of action with a brain.

ughhh is it next Friday yet.

[blackbird-brewster]

20 Author Questions

Tagged by @danielleitloudernow TY!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Still accredited to my name? 135. Total works on AO3 that I've written (including Anon & Orphans) -- somewhere around 150?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1.1 MILLION!?!?!??! FUCKING WILD.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Criminal Minds (124). But also have some Thrilling Adventure Hour (4), Grey's (3), and a few other random fandoms where I've written one thing ever.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Caged (Kudos: 635)

The Disposition of Emily Prentiss (Kudos: 511)

I Won't Give Up (Kudos: 441)

A Series of Unfortunate Events (Kudos: 359)

i can't be wrong (to be craving you) (Kudos: 312) OMG I had no idea this fic had that many?!?!!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to every single comment I get!! Since I can't actually reach through the screen and hug every reader who leaves a comment, a reply is all I have!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm, Angstiest ending specifically? I would say 'The Five Horsemen of the Silent Chasm'. (Ends in major character death)

Angstiest overall fic? DEF, DEF, DEF my Jemily saga -- i can't be wrong (to be craving you)

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

I've written so much tooth-rotting fluff tbrh. Some cute shit that comes to mind:

Quiet Love (Jara Wedding Fluff!)

Always You (Temily proposal)

I Know a Place (Jara)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I get entitled comments sometimes. To which I always reply, because I think it's important for other readers to see how not to behave in a comment section. This recent interaction comes to mind:

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

OF COURSE I DO!!! Lately, I have been writing a lot of smut because menopause has turned me into a 24/7 horny gay. All my fics are Femslash and I also write F/F/F threesomes because I have multiple OT3s 😇

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

I have written crossovers in the past! Two of my favourites are a TAH x Addams Family one : Beyond Belief: When Family Calls and a CM x Community crossover where Emily and Frankie Dart are estranged twins: Words Left Unsaid

11. Have you ever had a fiction stolen?

Not so much stolen, as I've seen parts of my own personal fanon lore being used in other fics sometimes. Which I find endearing. Me and @otahkoapisiakii have so many Jemily HCs that we often share the same background details in our fics and then, sometimes, readers see these things and mistakenly think they're canon.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yep! I've had a few fics translated into other languages. I think one was translated to Polish and another to Mandarin. Also, I think there's one in German somewhere too.

I LOVE when people ask to translate my works! It's such an honour.

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

TONS. I think me and @otahkoapisiakii (Phoenix_falls on AO3) have about 6 or 7 we wrote together.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

That's an impossible question. My longest loved OTP will always be MSR. My most written OTP is JJ/Emily. My current favourite ships are JJ/Tara & Tara/Rebecca.

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

When I retired from writing in 2015, I left behind a WIP (To Catch an Unsub). When I came back last year, I vowed to try and finish it. I re-wrote a lot of what had already been posted and managed a new chapter even -- but after nearly eight years, my writing style now is far different than when I started out in 2015. So I tied up the cliff-hanger and marked it as complete, because I know my heart isn't in it to continue that one.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have a really good understanding of the characters, I know what makes them tick, their motives, their insecurities and I think that makes them feel more authentic in my works.

I'm also a very fast writer. Both physically (my typing speed is absurd), but also just being able to bang out 10k in a day when I have an idea.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

NUMBERS AND SELF-IMPOSED RULES! I used to have this thing (I still struggle with it, but less so now) where I'd be like 'Every one-shot or chapter can't be more than 4k words'. Or if it's a multi-chap fic it has to be at least x amount of words minimum.

When I started writing completely for myself, those rules stopped holding me back. Now, I write until I'm done writing. Thus why Fooled Around (and Fell in Love) - Part 3 is going to be around 200k long when it's done.

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

If I use another language, it's usually French because I at least speak a bit of it and don't have to use Google translate or other horrible tools that butcher nuance.

I have a Spanish speaking character in Part 3 and that made me really have to dig out my limited Spanish speaking skills for her scenes. Which are probably grating to fluent speakers (apologies!)

I think the best thing you can do if you want to use a language you don't speak is to talk to people who do speak it. It helps make the dialogue more genuine.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Bones! During the WGA 2007 strike, I decided to fill the gap of TV hiatus with my own story. I wrote 'She Was My First' (Angela/Brennan) and posted it to LiveJournal (where I was in tons of Bones groups).

Since then, I ported it to AO3 around 2014. And now, it's the most read Angela/Brennan fic on there.

Fun Fact: Someone randomly leaving a comment on this fic last year was the reason I came back to writing!!

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

I get this question a lot and I think my answer always changes because I love different fics for different reasons. So here are some of my top ones:

Fic I Love Everything About: Fooled Around (and Fell in Love) (Series)

Fics I Consider to be My Most Important: Head Full of Doubt & Journey Through the Silent Chasm (Series)

Fic I'm Most Proud of Writing: i can't be wrong (to be craving you)

My Comfort Fic (the one I re-read the most): Between You & Me

TAG YOU'RE IT: (no pressure!) @storiesofsvu || @gaelic-symphony || @ellegreenawayslover || @tedwinisconfused || @jenny-from-the-bau || @unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix

[viilpstick]

Because now I finished drawing and don't have much to do-- random question time! Which flowers would feature into your characters' broomquets?? (I mean the bouquets that were in the brooms from the last birthday card sets from the game) you can include Adeline as well bc idc if she's from RSA they're also getting broomquets 😌

HMMM, this is a good question let me think

Monique (I know she is magicless, adding her just for fun):

Forget-me-not = True love, devotion, and royalty Lily of the valley = Purity, sincerity and luck Columbine = Hope and faith

Grace:

Peony = Romance, bashfulness, honour and prosperity Azalea = Femininity, temperance, and elegance Hibiscus = Love and Passion

Lacy:

Marigold = Purity and divinity Anemone = A symbol of love and passion Blue daisy = Long term loyalty and trust

Adeline:

Lily = Purity, innocence, rebirth Rose = Love, courage and beauty Daffodil = Rebirth and new beginnings

[lokisprettygirl]

People get murdered in my country (by their own family members) for falling in love and marrying outside of their own caste. Look it up, honour killing is very common in North India, inter religious marriages are just a different story altogether. Even in my own family I'd most definitely be frowned upon if I married someone outside of my caste..forget about marrying someone that's from a different religion or country.

Good thing i don't want to get married at all.

I see people getting offended over such trivial matters like shipping fictional people where they're signing petitions and threatening the creators when their needs are not met and it comes across as so tone deaf where I'm like hmmm is this what it is like when you're living in a first world country? Because people in other countries are fighting to even have basic human rights in life.

The only people who are brave enough to come out as a member of LGBTQ here are mostly the celebs/influencers or those who luckily have a strong support system around them because the rest of them get ridiculed, alienated and are made fun of constantly or killed. Homophobia exists everywhere (even in the USA or the UK or every other first world countries..I'm not at all denying or turning blind eye to that) but in some places it's still literally illegal to be homosexual.

So like, count your blessings and privileges because in some parts of the world humans don't even have the right to be themselves. File petitions and show your anger for things that would actually matter instead of cribbing about fictional couples all day long, media is meant for entertainment.

[sunshinereddie]

Okay, I'm officially a part of their friend group now and yes, we do call ourselves the Losers Club now lol ( much to the pain of who we have dubbed as Stan the Man ). And so far, I am having the time of my life! For once, I don't dread going to class at all!

Since there are two ( me and Tyler [ the Richie look-a like ] ) who are TOTALLY NORMAL about IT a.k.a obsessed, we decided to assign each of us a Loser. Tyler is obviously Richie, I'm Beverly with Asthma lmao ( they've been calling me either Jan or full on January since that January Embers thing ), the one who said "Please stop quoting Richie Tozier" in my last ask was Monique! We have assigned her to be the Stan the Man of our group, Kylle is Bill 'cause he's a creative writing major, Ozzy is Ben because they're the most comforting person in the group, Drew is Mike because he's very gentle but can be really stern if he wants to ( he's planning to be a teacher ), and our resident medical student, Tyrone is Eddie. They're the best people in the world.

It was really lucky, I guess, that I decided to sit near them that day and overheard them. I didn't really have much friends in Uni before them so it was a happy coincidence. Tyler and I are currently jamming to Eddie baby actually.

I do have a secret that Tyler gave me permission to share with just you so if you wanna know, tell me and I'll tell you in DMs lol

Also, I told them that I told you about us meeting ( Tyrone recognizes your username ) and Monique is inviting you to be the platonic Patty to her Stan so you can be our honorary Loser member :D

GEHSHAJJ OH SHAJHSAJFW ALLEN!!!! THIS IS EVERYTHING!!!! AAAAHHHHHH !!!!! im literally sitting here smiling because im so happy for you oh my god this sounds so amazing!!! i love how you all assigned each other as members of the losers that is so fun and it’s so crazy that you all fit as each of the losers :D it’s almost like fate, like you were destined to sit under that specific tree on that specific day!!!

hmmm now i’m curious about this secret….. thank you tyler for the permission and now i wanna know 👀

and HEBSGAJSHSK TYRONE ??? HELLO ???? oh my god well tyrone if you’re reading this hi hello but also omg it is such a weird feeling that like. irl people know about me. what do you mean real life people know about me and follow this account. what do you mean you guys are real people and not just the little gay people in my phone. ALSO ??? WHAT ARE THE CHANCES THAT YOU MEET THESE PEOPLE IRL WHO ARE NOT ONLY IT FANS BUT LIKE. ONE OF THEM ALSO RECOGNIZES YOUR MUTUAL FROM TUMBLR????? that’s insane BUT IT ALSO MAKES ME HAPPY LOL

SND SHAGSJSHWIHW ??-?/!?/!/?/ ME ???? HONORARY LOSERS MEMBER ??2?:?/?/?/?27)/ shhdbshahahjsjs i would be honoured to be patty 😭💛💛 tell monique i say hi to my platonic babylove 👊

[promisinininining]

for the ask game!!

📝 ❔ (humbly requesting more details on troupemaster + phantom)

this is bee on my main acc 👍

Yes I know who your are Mx Shaypainter I am a DETECTIVE. Do not underestimate me!!!

📝 snippet

You've already seen what I have oh the miss Christine fic so hmmm have this instead:

It was a cold night when Toland had told Młynar about his childhood—it must have been over a decade ago now, before Młynar lost Schnitz and still thought that knighthood was an honourable thing, and Toland's smile wasn't so brittle. They were huddled too close to the fire, watching the fish they had caught earlier cook on skewers as a lazy meal—nobody wanted to prepare anything after a day of running around fruitlessly chasing a local legend that may or may not even exist.

Things were simpler, then, and Młynar remembers the embers dancing between them as Toland spoke of a being born without a home. It was the complete opposite of how Młynar himself had grown up: loved, surrounded by family, and never wanting. He felt deeply the injustice and was as foolish as he was idealistic, so he offered the Sarkaz a place by his side in lieu of the universe depriving the man of somewhere to belong.

"Silly Sir Knight," Toland had said, "you've already given me that."

❔ choose a "random" WIP and talk about it

Alright you asked for it CW's below as follows: grooming, underage, murder, dubcon

The fic is actually from the cat's point of view but I wanted to explore phantom's past from her point of view because I think he talks to her when they're alone.

Even though he'll talk like some kind of weirdo reciting a soliloquy, including his past with the trope master who saved him from an impoverished childhood and gave him so many opportunities, so long as he was good and did as he was told. Including mild murder and sexual favours. It's a small price to pay for being picked up as a starving orphan off the streets, and he was born for the stage, really.

The thing that stopped me continuing was suddenly realising the scope, i.e. the amount of time he's spent with miss Christine includes being an assassin then going finding Salem, then going to ri, and then going back to the castle, and then coaxing ri to help. That's a lot of time my dude.

[cescalr]

hello dearest! <3 for the ask game:

how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

How long is your longest fic?

What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Hey mate <3

1; So, as someone who is currently studying creative writing at university, the lack of community.... I guess, response fanfic tends to get these days (beyond a very appreciated Loved this!!!!!11!1!1 which of course <3 thank you random commenter person. but also. what about it did you love.) isn't as - er, frustrating as it could otherwise be, since I get feedback on my writing from professional academics on assignments and such. Basicaly - I actually really miss FFN calling it 'reviews' instead of comments, because that encouraged people to actually... tell me things. And not just spam letters. And i love the letter spamming! keysmashes are nice :) But i always remember the comments that talk about the fic more than the ones that just flatter me. Like, yes, flattery will get you quite far opposed to popular aphorisms, but er I'd also like to know if my sentence structure flows nicely. That would be useful. I like getting feedback as much as support, the lack of the former can be a bit awkward though because it means I don't know what I need to change to improve my work. As someone who wants to storytell just like, in general, outside of fanfic, that's kind of important! Support is great. Love support. Would also love feedback if people were willing to give it <3.

Oh!!!!!!!! Oh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay. So. I don't know if saying you and viv would be cheating or not (or count as nepotism? hey besties <3 <3 <3 hehe) sooooo you guys are honourable mentions <3 but okay, so - in absolutely no particular order, and nowhere near all the people i could rec;

Ꝥ. esama | Archive of Our Own !!! hello!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 281 works of impeccable quality and substantial wordcount, you'd be remiss in saying Esama was anything but prolific, especially given those cover roughly 66 fandoms, give or take Ao3's consideration of things like Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts as separate media franchises......... hmmm. Anyway. Really really great author. Go check out their works!! trust me. They'll have at least 1 thing you'll enjoy. My personal favourites are all assassins creed fics, but they have hp and mcu fics, too bestie so yk. Specifically i recommend Wizards IN SPACE - I mean, it is quite literally called Wizards. IN SPACE. what is not to love about that premise? The writing is A* tier, to boot. <3 esama is basically the reason I write fanfic. Give 'em a look-see; they're also here on tumblr, as @/esamastation :). Good to give a follow - they're much more consistent at posting when they make new fic/chapters on their tumblr than I've ever been on mine, lol.

Ƿ. For someone else who is also here on tumblr (and may or may not count as nepotism. I don't actually know the definition of nepotism. Hi tumblr mutual of mine, lol!) Is freddieslater | Archive of Our Own. I will read almost anything they write for fandoms I know, and have read things for fandoms I don't know one even small thing about just because they wrote it. RJ's style is just superb, and their ability to write fic you can completely understand even if you don't know the fandom is really grand. Good glee & TVD fic is hard to find, lemme tell ya that right now, and theirs is superb! Remus is also here on tumblr, under the same username :). Hence. You know. Being mutuals and all.

Ł. This is a curveball. Something to throw you off your game. I'm going to recommend an FFN author who only recently migrated to Ao3 that writes solely SI fics. Yeah. That's what I'm doing. Some of the first fics I remember fully reading all the way through were this guy's work, so I think it's only fair to give him a shout. Soleneus | FanFiction. I haven't read all his fics for reasons that should make themselves... very clear upon looking at his account, but the fics I have read, namely the Fallout and Mass Effect series plus the Worm fic (a franchise i actually know nothing about; some kind of grimdark superhero thing I think - prior knowledge was not stated as necessary, and I read way too much fic for things I've never seen. Bestie why am I telling you this like you don't already know that?) are genuinely really well done series and some of the best examples of how to get an SI/OC fic to work without being all mary sue and shit. [or marty stu, in this case, I suppose?]. I'm going to be frank and say not every rec for an author I give recs all their works - I'd avoid his HP stuff because his view on the series is diametrically opposed to mine, for example. But that doesn't mean that what is there isn't worth at least a gander. I'm of a mind that you should give fic a chance even if the summary or whatever sounds strange; this might come from the fact I first started reading fic on things like FFN and Twisting The Hellmouth, which didn't have filterable tags and people would just straight up lie in the four-characters-allowed-here section so more people would find their fic, so.... I've ended up reading a lot of stuff I wouldn't recommend. But you find things that come from a different perspective than your own to a franchise you love, and that can be interesting! My views on the worlds of ME and Fallout are vastly different from his, but his fics for them are far better than anything I could ever write for them. His worldbuilding is seriously solid stuff, and honestly his characters are pretty good. SIs get a bad rep, I think, because of things like the shitty reincarnated as harry potter or whatever and just be an asshole for 40 chapters trope, but it can be done properly, and Sol achieves that. I really enjoyed the Fallout and Mass Effect series when I read them, 'bout... half a decade ago lmao, but still - those would be the ones I'd say to take a look-see at.

3. Hm. I actually think it would be in that order; Characters drive the story for me. Their emotions and thoughts and things all drive the action - but, then, that's just standard story structure (according to my Novel module lecturer, anyway). My style specifically is.... interrogative? I like Putting People In Situations and Making Them Do Bad Things For Fun And Profit [Angsty Entertainment]. I can go chapters without dialogue, though I love writing it, because writing gives you the unique ability to see right into the character's thoughts, unlike in things like film where that's more difficult (or awkward - just look at the narrated version of Blade Runner, lmao). You can, I guess, wallow. My writing style is brooding alksdjf;alskdfj;alskdfj; god. I can't escape the vampire allegations /joke. Er. Hm. I like fun things :) Like making my blorbos suffer :) But they'll be happy in the end so it's okay :). Also - I write romance, sure, but I tend to use romance as a way to look into the characters involved. It's sort of more a tool than the main draw, which is why my steo never gets anywhere close to dating alsdkjf;alksdfj;asdf oh well.

4. My longest fic is For What It's Worth. This should not be a surprise, given it's a rewrite of HP5 -> 7. It is currently 91 ,527k, with the wip next (and fucking final, jeez) chapter has about 3, 517k words atm, but that's nowhere near how many it's going to have. Harry's not even left Privet Drive yet! It's still early summer!! Also, If you count the side stories, 100, 576k is the wordcount for the series - so that boosts the collective count to 104,093. So. This fic is long enough on it's own, but it's over 100k when the in-continuity and arguably-part-of-the-fic side stories are included. Oof. (Nowhere near all that long a fic in comparison to many of the things I read, though. Read a 2 mil word star wars fic once. Very good fic! I don't remember what it's called.)

5. I write in the order I write; sometimes I write chronologically, start of fic to end of fic. Sometimes I write a scene and then find where It goes much later on - that happened in Keeping This; the fic got piecemealed together over a course of. A While. And one of the scenes sort of... towards the middle? I wrote way before it showed up. You can see this in my Journey Across the Dimensions WIP ficlet collection fic (that i really should separate out and make an actual series, instead of one of those fuckawful fic collection fics. I am the problem). But most fics I just write in order. FWIW's first two chapters - 32k words before the edit, down to 29k - were done in a single session on one Sunday. Like, 10am to 4pm or something like that. I don't remember that was in 2018!!! I can't remember that far back!!!! I have the brain of a forgetful goldfish!!! A sieve a cat got it's claws on!!!

Thanks for the ask bestie <3 <3 <3

[sebdoeswords]

For the ship gimme... Hmmm... Vesiri, Calalt, Gerlion and... idk Dettgis?

gawd damn Ada, this isn't a full time job 😩

Jokes aside i will gladly share my opinions (I'm gonna leave Gerlion out of this because someone else sent in only Gerlion, so I'm gonna answer that over there)

Vesiri

Of course I ship it!!

What made you ship it?

The bit.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

That they're so alike! They're both unlikely warrior women in a male dominated field, and they both have childhood/teenhood SA trauma. They can really understand each other like very few people around them can, and I think they find solace in each other because of that. In the absence of therapists (that would be booked to the nines already anyway) this is as good an opportunity they're gonna get to really heal.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

God, do I have one? Kinda difficult to have an unpopular opinion for a ship you helped create, isn't it? 😂 One tangentially related thing would be that i prefer Vesiri over Cirys and Vesirys simply because I don't really care that much about Cerys? I like her, and i always go with her for ruler of skellige, but I'm not invested in her character in any way.

Calalt

This one's tricky, because I neither ship it nor don't ship it, but a secret third thing (encouraging you in shipping it and listening to your passionate explanations about it), So I'm going to do a little bit of merging with the questions here to better reflect this weird state of shipping nirvana.

What made you ship it?

That you're so passionate about it! Also that one video you made of them with "loving you is a losing game" that slaps.

2. What would have made you like it?

If I were more invested in Calanthe as a character maybe? Tbh I didn't really read their interactions as romantic in the books, but it's also been a while since I read anything but the short stories, so it's very likely I'm just misremembering. Overall for me to ship something both characters need to be like blorbos to me. (the only exception to this is Vesiri, which i started shipping as a joke but is really growing on me now)

3. Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

Yeah sure! I think the idea of a queen and a witcher very interesting. There's something about people in power and those devoted to them (no yeah i'm definitely still talking about calanthe i promise)

And besides that, the idea of, if destiny had been kinder, her and Geralt being like fond, soft grandparents to Ciri is very sweet.

Dettgis

This has to be the ugliest ship name I've ever seen 😭

And for this I... am completely ambivalent tbh. Yes I've written a fic for it, but that's because I had a prompt that fit it very well. Other than that I don't ship it, but I also don't dislike it. I can see why people ship it, I'm just more firmly on the geregis train.

Why don’t you ship it?

Dettlaff is just not a blorbo of mine. If he'd gotten more screen time, maybe, but as it stands I'm not interested enough to bestow upon him the honour of kissing one of my blorbos.

2. What would have made you like it?

As I said, maybe if Dettlaff had gotten more screen time. maybe if he'd showed more affection for Regis. I know Regis talks a lot about how close they are and all the things Dettlaff has done for him, but being told that doesn't suffice for me. I need to SEE Dettlaff caring about Regis.

3. Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

The goth aesthetic is off the charts for this one. Idk what else tbh 😭 The idea that Dettlaff sacrificed a lot for Regis is nice? I guess?

[Send me ships]

[chronicowboy]

2022 writing review

so its 2023, so what? better to review a year with a little bit of distance methinks

tagged by @kitkatpancakestack hope ur 2023 is going well so far muah <3

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 42 oh lord

2. Word count posted for the year: 297,700 (mortifying)

3. Fandoms I wrote for: 9-1-1

4. Pairings: buck/eddie

5. Story with the most: 

kudos: please? (can't say no) 1,220 kudos

bookmarks: the persistence of memory 386 bookmarks

comment threads: the persistence of memory 119 threads

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): ooooof i was gonna say the persistence of memory just because of the sheer word count and that i love the story but im actually really proud of my gilmore girls au all you have to do is call my name (i'll be there) because i wrote 40k words in under a week and for once i wasn't wondering about if people would read it i wrote it for me (and my beloved elke) honourable mentions to 1001 reasons to not get drunk with your sister's boyfriend and any of my ravi pov fics because they're silly but i love them all the same and my amnesia collection

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): hmmm probably we don't go through the glass doors because it was half-formed but i still posted it, i basically just saw that gif of peeta pressing his forehead against the forcefield for katniss in the jabberjay scene and i was like but what if it was buddie and yeah i just do not know why i posted it ig

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: any comments i've had saying that i should be a writer for the show makes me want to scream such as "this is soooooooooooo good!!!! its so perfectly and wonderfully devastating and heartbreaking and emotional and warm and soft. you write the firefam's dialogue SOOO WELL! they should add you as a staff writer tbh. ❤❤❤❤❤❤" on (tpom surefire way to make me happy is to compliment my dialogue and the 118 dynamics)

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: at the moment tbh i have so much uni work to do and an original piece of fiction im 200+ pages into and i'm trying to do all of that at once so the fic has fallen to the wayside a little

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: god this is really difficult and it definitely doesn't help that i can barely remember anything about my fics but um i guess character-wise its a surprise whenever i write taykay as an actual character rather than just a mention through gritted teeth lol but um scene-wise maybe just my whole albert pov fic what are you doing home? we thought you were babysitting just because its not something i'd normally write (eddie is only mentioned how uncharacteristic of me!!)

11. A favourite excerpt of your writing: oh god um i am so proud of lots of bits to my writing so i'm going to try to limit myself

just all of my surrealism weaved into 9-1-1, what's your fantasy? to kind of hint that buck's dreaming

the realisation scene in flatpack furniture and a djungelskog

"It'll be pretty cool, right?" Eddie's talking, but Buck can barely hear it over the static ringing in his ears. "To look at it and know that we made it together—"

You don't find it, son, you make it.

Its nothing special. Its nothing out of the ordinary.

There's nobody in this world I trust more with my son than you.

There's an Alan key sitting in his open palm, ever so slightly warmed by Eddie's hand.

I know you did.

Its nothing special. Its nothing out of the ordinary.

You two have an adorable son.

Eddie passes him tools at work all the time without him asking. They've suffered the telepathy jokes a million times.

Shouldn't it be when you're at your worst, they're at their worst, you have every reason to give up and you still decide you want to try again.

this scene from the only try day is wednesday because i originally hated this fic until i reread this moment

The picture catches the flames, curling up at the bottom corners, colours melting away and consuming Eddie and Christopher whole before finally, finally taking Buck too.

Because that's the thing. If Eddie is in there, if he's— Then that's what's going to happen. The fire takes Eddie first. Then, Christopher. Christopher who loses two parents and gets stuck with a Buck, a Buck he'll grow to resent because Buck's the reason Eddie was here in the first place, because Buck didn't save Eddie. So, the fire will take Buck finally.

And it will take him violently. It will ravage him, turn him to ash and sift it through their fingers until he's nothing but a few chunks of burnt bone. It will take him, consume him, ruin him. And he'll be dead, in every way that counts. He's already dying now.

Buck refuses to let it happen.

He'll die. He'll die before Chris can resent him because that would finish him off. Losing Christopher, losing Christopher to hatred and loathing, that would kill him. And that death would be much more violent than any chaos fire could wreak.

this scene in memory (all alone in the moonlight)

"Eddie, can we not do this?" Sighing, Buck looks up at the ceiling. "I'm missing five years of my life. I feel like shit. I really don't need you coming in here acting all weird."

Eddie lets out a breath and takes a step forward.

"What do you need from me, Buck?"

And, fuck, that question really shouldn't bring tears to his eyes, but. But Buck's spent his whole life being the one asking that question and now he doesn't even know the person who knows him well enough to ask it.

"I need my best friend." He whispers.

Eddie's face crumbles and he crosses the space between them in three steps, settling onto the edge of the bed and pulling Buck into his chest. Buck clutches at his Henley as he tries to compose himself, but Eddie's hand settles heavy at the base of his skull.

"Hey, don't do that." Eddie murmurs. "Just let it go, Buck."

And so, Buck breaks—for the second time in as many days—in a relative stranger's arms.

Eventually, when the tears have subsided and Buck finds the energy to be embarrassed about dirtying Eddie Diaz's shirt with snot and tears, he sits back in his bed and scrubs at his face.

"Thanks." He rasps.

"You don't have to thank me for that, Buck." Eddie offers him a cup of water and a handful of tissues. "I know you don't remember it, but we promised to have each other's backs and I don't plan on breaking that anytime soon."

"Fuck." Buck wipes at his eyes with the tissues until Eddie pries it from his hand and takes over for him, soft and gentle enough to have the tears springing to life all over again. "I really want to hate you." Eddie laughs.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: honestly just sheer volume of writing, for most of my writing life i was always so perfectionist and adamant that i couldn't move on until this one project was polished and perfect but this year i've written and written and written and let myself abandon projects and have rough first drafts yknow

13. How do you hope to grow next year: hmm idk really maybe just write even more and branch out a little in what i'm writing

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc): @danielsousa my love, my heart, my rock!!!!! honestly probably wouldn't have written half as much if it weren't for elke cheering me on for the gilmore girls au and sending me screenshots of my writing that made her want to kill me

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: oh much i'm sure, i put myself into everything i write intentionally or not just because its such a personal thing for me but um in persistence of memory all the timeloop media references and agents of shield as i have always been reference specifically

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: read and write! nothing is ever going to help you as much as that. read fics yes, but read books and poetry anthologies and non-fiction! and write! write fic, write shitty poetry in your notes app, write short fiction, start a book. in the wise words of shia la boeuf JUST DO IT

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: ohhh okay so i have plans for two very big buddie aus an agents of shield au where fitzsimmons are technically henchim but buddie gets their romantic scenes, and then a national treasure au because i am a SUCKER for those films and chimney as riley is something that can be soooo personal

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read: ummm just anyone who wants to do this?? feel free to say i tagged you because my brain isn't working!!

[refundtheticket]

For hide specifically:

❤️🤍💔🍝☕️☺️🤔🤓😥😓👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 sorry if this is a lot!

not at all!!!

❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits?

HMMM. i guess loyalty, friendliness and uh. their ability to trust in others? you can interpret these things as flaws since sometimes hide can take them too far but i think they're good things hehe

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

hmmmm. uhhh tbh i'm not sure what would be defined as such uwu

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

they have high standards for their own behaviours when it comes to stuff like behaving with kindness/honour and all that and they have a pretty bad habit of holding other people to those standards. they can also be pretty bossy. hide really thrives when working as part of a team and gets really frustrated and irritable when it feels like people aren't putting in the same amount of effort. they're a real "i did all this so you should all do this and if you aren't you suck" kind of person. the type to do the dishes every night and then get mad when no one else does the dishes even though they've been doing them every night and probably wouldn't like the standards other people did the dishes at. is that three?? idek

🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your oc's favorite food(s)?

hide really loves anything made with horse meat; where they're from there's a festival held once a year during which a horse is slaughtered and served raw. like horse sushi. hide loved that shit. in general hide appreciates their meat raw and straight from the creature (GIVE IT TO THEM RAW AND WRIGGLING) and they'll just straight up eat a mouse whole, but in terms of food that is an actual constructed meal they love a good stew, esp when noodles are involved. dumplings are also great.

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE — does your oc prefer coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, water, or some other drink? how do they like to take this drink (ex. coffee with milk, hot chocolate with whipped cream, a specific kind of tea, etc)?

hide generally sticks to water; a lot of human/human-adjacent drinks like certain teas can make them really sick because of kitty cat dietary restrictions so if it's not being prepared by another tabaxi they generally play it safe. that said, where they're from milk is drank a lot so they actually have a much higher tolerance for milk products than a lot of other tabaxi. their fav alcoholic drink is airag ^_^ comfort drink fr fr

😊 SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES — what are your oc's career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life?

hide is currently working as a bodyguard, but they'll do a variety of jobs that take advantage of their skills (fightin') as long as the main goal isn't to hurt anyone. they used to want to be a knight but got discouraged by the Horrors of War and now don't really know what they're doing. they mostly just want to find a path in life that feels relatively stable!!

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

hide has a lot of cat mannerisms. for example they are prone to physical touch more than your average humanoid is, they'll purr if they're happy, they slow-blink, head butt, etc. in terms of behaviours outside of your average kitty-cat mannerisms what's really coming to mind is that they run their hands through their fur a lot; keeping their fur neat helps keep them grounded so running their fingers through their fur, esp when stressed, is a common unconscious movement for them. esp the big mane of fur around the back of their head and neck.

🤓 SMILING FACE WITH GLASSES — is your oc chatty or quiet? are they at ease in social situations, or are they more shy?

hide should be chatty, although sometimes when i'm the one playing them i feel like i drop the ball on that a bit since i am very shy lmao. hide is very extroverted, they like meeting new people and don't really experience social anxiety at all!!! couldn't be me

😥 SAD BUT RELIEVED FACE — is your oc prone to getting stressed out, or is it easy for them to keep their cool?

i wouldn't say hide is totally chill but i also wouldn't say they're really prone to getting stressed out, but they probably become more easily stressed over stuff than is probably necessary. esp when compounding elements make it feel like they're losing control over the situation

😓 DOWNCAST FACE WITH SWEAT — is your oc open-minded or stubborn? are they inquisitive or do they prefer to keep to their bubble of knowledge?

i would describe hide as reasonably open-minded! part of what interests them about people is understanding their different perspectives; they try not to go into any interaction with strong assumptions about them (although the wealthier the person the more likely hide is to slip into negative assumptions lmao). that said hide has some beliefs that they're not willing to compromise on. dont we all tho

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 FAMILY WITH MOTHER, FATHER, SON AND DAUGHTER — how many people are in your oc's immediate family? how many people are in your oc's extended family? do they have aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc? who in their family are they closest with? are they close with their birth family, or do they have a found family?

hide has a pretty big family!!! hide has four parental units (a mom, a ma, a dad,(<~ in a romantic relationship), and then their dad's sibling, who is nonbinary and hide calls them an 'ancle') and four siblings. they love their family!!!!!! they don't really see them anymore at this point tho esp since they kinda left their clan to go and try to be a knight. sad!

thank u!!

[the-kr8tor]

YAYYY I LOVE YOUR LITTLE NOTES!!!

All the ppl after them saw the carnage in the inn and went nope not doing that

He was 🥺🥺

It was probably excruciating at first but after the initial pain subsided i bet it felt very romantic

THEY'RE SO IN LOVE YOUR HONOUR

House flipper with Hobie and R 😂

Hmmm i wonder 🤔

Riri is like his little sister who bullies him to show her love 😂😂😂

Hobie had a gang! With Miguel and riri before he retired

They're making their house into a home!

Letsss gooo!!!! They're finally matching again!!

Lol I can just imagine a bunch of tomatoes randomly sprouting

Yeah! I modeled clover after my dog who passed recently and I could not stop the tears while writing her parts

Definitely a katy fic ™️ signature!

Yess!! It's a reference to tf! I didn't want to use my actual dog's name so I used tf! R's nickname in that!

Picking a colour for the house was so hard but then it hit me!

Hobie building the swing instead of patching up the holes in the roof: I'm being such a good husband rn

He has a reputation to uphold! 😂 I just love the idea of him getting more and more at home and not just to survive so him wearing knit instead of the usual leather was a really cool way of showing how much he embraced domesticity with r

And I'm smiling while reading your thoughts!!

Exactly yeah!!! Me naming the dog clover had other benefits too lol

HAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHA i was giggling while writing that part!! Bucky you dog! 😂😂

R is stronger than me i would have keeled over and melted from his flirting 😍

It's a date night for them!

Yeah everyone in that saloon knows him one way or another!

BAHHAHAHAHHAHAH RIRI WAS SO REAL FOR THAT

Riri always knows its coming too when Hobie comes walking inside with stationary 🤣🤣

Mayhaps....

To all the boys i loved before whomst? I only know riri 😂

Bro literally almost fell for those flowers 🤣 very romantic tho!

Just like in bdas!!! Parallels!

THANK YOU SO MUCH 🥹🥹🥹 You are such a sweetheart as always ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ly 💕

To Live Simply

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 13.1 k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing) (Hobie is mentioned taller than her), CW suggestive, CW food mentions, TW abuse mention, CW drinking, CW violence mention. Wild west AU, Cowboy AU.

A/N: I wrote my late dog in this to remember her by, please be nice to the dog ❤️

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 8 >>> CHAPTER 9

The journey to Hobie's farm was excruciating, yet quiet and peaceful. If not for both yours and Hobie's still healing injuries it would've been a more pleasant ride. Surprisingly enough, there wasn't anyone who wanted to ambush you, and no one to point a gun at; no one to hurt you and Hobie.

The entire time you were afraid, afraid that something would happen the least you expected it. You were waiting for disaster to hit, you've never been at peace on the road, so you were high strung, hands gripping tightly around the reins while you kept your gun fully loaded and ready on your back. Luckily, nothing noteworthy happened during that one whole month of traveling west and away from the south.

Hobie clung to you like sap on wood, and you did too. You both never spoke of what happened that day, it was horrible, even now hallucinations still linger in the back of your head. Sometimes you see her staring at you on the side of the road, sometimes you smell burnt coffee out of nowhere. Hobie understood what they put you through while he lay asleep dreaming of you. He did everything he could to help you return to reality with every grasp of your hand, and with every kiss on your temple— effectively shaking you awake. You take care of him too, changing his bandages in camp, wincing with him whilst you clean his wounds.

It was just you and him, and you've got everything to lose if they ever find you.

You both were careful on the road, always traveling at night under the stars. Lighting small fires that are enough to keep you warm. You've even started to hide your face under a bandana. If it was absolutely needed to go into town, you and Hobie never stayed too long to make an impression. To everyone else, he was Larry Smith and you were his wife. To him, you were his wife in everything but on paper. To you, he was everything. You suppose it was all the same.

The horses are well kept despite the long rides, they slept well, ate even better than you and Hobie. You've noticed Cherry has become friendlier towards Bucky, and Bucky seemed to like the added attention.

Your back aches from the long ride, dawn has just begun to break. The breeze hums in your ears as you and Hobie finally make it to his farm. A piece of land in a valley and in between monstrous mountains that rise up into the clouds; and what seems to be thousands of miles of nothingness. There's nothing but land everywhere you look, the town you passed through hours ago is nothing but a dot in the far distance.

You're situated in the middle of nowhere.

“It's not much, but it's home.” Hobie stands before you, shoulders relaxed, eyes glancing towards you as if he's waiting for approval.

The farmhouse isn't as grand as your old home, it doesn't have the gilded awnings or marble pillars that seem to rise up towards the heavens. The house is made out of wood, two stories high with a simple porch that wraps around the entire structure. Its white paint is chipping, doors weathered by the elements and time. Empty flower pots sit nearby, just waiting to be used once again. Further away, a barn sits near a small pond. The structure’s red paint faded into a murky brown with dead vines covering its side. A windmill stands next to it, the blades squeak in the wind, wood creaking whenever a harsh breeze blows.

The picket fences around the property lay broken with its old chalky paint cracking and melting away. The land surrounding it doesn't look any better, it's barren and dry save for the tall brown grass growing everywhere. There are also stumps left behind by cut trees, a couple have survived long enough to grow as tall as the barn and they both sit behind the farmhouse a few paces away. It lacks any greenery you'd expect for a farm. With its dry soil underneath your feet, you're sure that there's nothing that could grow here. But you can try, plant and sow over and over again until a single leaf will sprout, until a plant bears fruit.

There's nothing else all around the place, nothing but stretches and miles upon miles of empty land. You like it that way. It's just you and him, him and you. You'd never have it any other way.

For the first time in a very long time, you feel like you can finally breathe. Fate has finally granted you reprieve.

“It's perfect.” You smile, stepping forward, reaching for his hand and then squeezing it once. “It's home.”

Hobie's lips slowly curl up into a smile, intertwining your fingers around his own. “What are we waitin' for?” With a sudden arm around the back of your knees, he gracefully carries you in his arms, earning a surprised yelp and laughter from you. You grasp at his vest, giggling against his chest. “Let's get inside.”

Even in his arms, you still feel the gnawing in the back of your mind. The danger that lurks behind the mountains, a danger that you both are ignoring for now in place of bliss. It's as if a heavy blanket is laid upon your chest, crushing you under its weight, breaking your rib cage in half, squishing your heart until a mush of blood and muscle is the only thing left in its wake.

Then, there's the nature of the man from the place you once called your home. You think he'd kill you the moment he sees you in the arms of Hobie, laughing against his chest, holding on to him as if he's your husband. Should I tell Hobie? You thought to yourself, it will ruin him. It will ruin you in his mind. Your heart thuds against your chest akin to a train engine just from thinking about it. You think it'll never go away, that it will continue to eat at you like you're a carcass left for the vultures in a dry humid desert. But for now, you stay laughing against his skin, kissing every inch of his face as he brings you inside. Until you're ready, you promise yourself that you'll tell him, even if it ruins you.

Hobie, unbeknownst to the inner turmoil you're having; kisses you back gently, dry lips against your sweaty forehead, he doesn't mind as he peppers your face. It's a battle, where you two are the winners.

You kick about in his arms, the stubble on his chin tickles you, and of course he notices it. He decides to hear you laugh, really laugh— so he nudges your head away, rubbing his stubble up and down your neck. Your giggles immediately fill the home, leaning away, hands patting his chest rapidly. If not for his hold on you, you would've fell seconds ago.

“Enough!” You shriek, but your own laughter betrays you. With every nudge, you forget about your thoughts, only focusing on the man before you.

Hobie wheezes, moving an inch away from your neck. “You sure? I don't think ‘m done yet.” He fixes his grasp on you, hand placed just above your ribs, fingers flexing, threatening to tickle you there.

You scoff, a sound similar to a giggle. “We've been on the road for a long time, Hobie, and we haven't had a proper bath in weeks!” He opens his mouth to speak. “A dip in the river doesn't count.”

With furrowed brows, he leans closer, lips curled mischievously. “You tellin’ me that I smell?”

You chuckle, hand patting his cheek lovingly. “No, I'm saying that I smell.”

“Really?” Hobie starts to lean closer but you stop him with your hand on his forehead. He smiles, trying to wiggle his head. “I was just about to check!”

There's the same glint in your eyes. You hum, cradling his jaw, pushing him gently upwards. The scar on his neck is in full display to you, Hobie tries to shake his head in protest, his sudden insecurity for the raised scar makes him think that you were second guessing your choices. But with your simple movement of pulling yourself up, enough to be eye level to the scar, and with your lips resting upon it makes him think otherwise.

He turns into honey under your touch, and you're the one licking his sweetness off of your finger tips.

You feel his staggered breath under your lips, Hobie almost drops you the second you kiss his scar. He feels your love through it all, fingers digging into your side but not enough to leave a mark. Closing his eyes, he lets you peck as your thumb runs along his Adam's apple that bops up and down with every nervous swallow. He even leans upwards to give you more space.

“I missed you.” Hobie says in a breathy whisper while you continue to attack his skin, hand pressed on your back, helping lift you up. “I should've told you that when I first—” You hold onto his nape to kiss higher, nipping gently, earning a shaky exhale from him. “—fuckin’ hell, you'll be the death of me. Five minutes in and you're already tryin’ to—”

“Knock knock?”

“Oh fuck—!” You suddenly drop down to the floor, butt aching as you stare at the visitor standing in the doorway.

“Shit—” Hobie fumbles, none of the coolness he exhibited during your journey. He tries to help you up, but then immediately decides to get his gun out that he also flounders over. His gun falls, bullets falling out, metal clanking on the dusty wooden floors. “Ah, fuck!” Kneeling down, he tries to pick up all the scattered bullets.

“Caught you in a bad time, huh?”

You glance between Hobie and the woman in the doorway. Hobie sighs, eyes staring daggers at the stranger. Her curly hair is styled in braids, leather chaps and jacket matching, hands casually placed inside her jean pockets. The sun behind her drapes her in gold, the same colour as the hat sitting atop her head. Her genuine smile is one of those contagious smiles that turns your frown into a friendly grin, you smile wider when you meet with her eyes that are laced with amusement. She gives you a wink, and then returns her attention towards Hobie who has given up on picking up his ammo.

“No, no, take your time, Hobie.”

He sighs, head falling down in shame. “What are you doin' ‘ere, Riri?”

“I was on my routine check. Imagine my surprise when I saw Bucky frolicking outside with a new horse.” Riri enters, hand reaching towards you. “The name's Riri, a friend of Hobie's.”

You smile up at her, taking her hand as she gracefully lifts you back up on your feet. “Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” She shakes your hand, leaning slightly to whisper in a louder tone. “You're even prettier than what this loser told me.”

Hobie sighs, “Riri, c’mon—”

“Why don't you get up, cowboy?” Riri lets your hand go, she then crosses her arms over her chest whilst you watch them interact.

Hobie stays kneeling, turned away from you and Riri, hand conveniently on his lap. “Don't you dare tell her shit, Riri.” He says, green eyes narrowed into slits.

You tamp down a laugh, glancing down at Hobie who just shakes his head with a ghost of a smile. You're tempted to tease him too, but Riri catching you two in the act was enough embarrassment for him.

“You told stories about me?” If your cheeks could run any warmer, you can boil water on it.

“He's a chatterbox when he's drunk.”

“He is?” You turn towards the said man, beaming at him.

“Don't you have anythin' better to do—?” Hobie gets ignored as Riri continues to chat with you. He resigns, huffing in place.

“Mm-hmm, he says the craziest shit. You think he's all that out there but the second he drinks his third glass, he's out in my saloon yammering about something. Sometimes that something has to do with you.” She pauses, nudging your shoulder. “Don't worry, he only tells me the good stuff. I practically already know you.” Your eyes widen. “Not in a weird way, in a…”

“Good job, Ri, you made it awkward.” Hobie eggs her on.

Riri rolls her eyes. “She knows what I'm talking about, right?” She turns to you, smiling softly like she's already trying to apologize.

“That so? Don't worry, I understand what you meant.” You flick your eyes towards Hobie, who's still unable to stand up. “Since you already know me—”

“Ah, yes!” She claps her hands in understanding. “You may go to my saloon and dig more details about what Hobie's been doing these past five years.” Riri meets Hobie's eyes. “You never know, you might even come across our old gang.”

You copy her, teasing Hobie even more. “The more the merrier then.”

“Great,” Hobie huffs, finally standing up. “You've created a monster, Riri.”

“Don't call her a monster!” Riri acts offended for you.

“Yeah! Don't call me a monster!”

Hobie could only sigh in defeat. He mumbles under his breath, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. “If I wasn't so tired.”

“Oh that reminds me.” You say excitedly, you've finally found a friend after everything that has happened. “Do you want to stay for tea?”

“We don't have anythin', love.” Hobie gestures towards the near empty kitchen cabinets that were left open.

Riri smirks at the name he used for you. Hobie warns her with a look. “That would be great, but I gotta go back out there. I heard there's a huge deer roaming around and I want to be the one to get it before anyone else does.”

“That's too bad.” You're genuinely disappointed.

“Yeah, that's too bad.” Hobie copies sarcastically, less disappointed.

Riri chuckles, “don't worry, Y/N, my saloon's always open for you.” She clasps your shoulder. “Welcome to Scarlett Meadows, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Riri. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, love,” Riri mocks him. Hobie audibly groans, she smacks his chest. “Welcome back, loser.” With a flourish, Riri exits the house and then jumps back on her horse to ride away. Hobie closes and locks the front door behind her.

“I like her already.”

Hobie wraps his arm around your middle, pulling you close for an embrace. “‘m glad, she's a good friend.”

You nuzzle his shoulder, to which he takes your cheek, already leaning down to meet you halfway. “The mood's ruined, Hobs.”

“Goddamnit.” He says, yet he still chuckles against your lips. Letting you go, you stay locked with his eyes while walking backwards towards the stairs. “Where are you goin'?” There's a growing smile on yours and Hobie's lips.

“You coming, cowboy?” You ask, and you see him flustered once again. Biting his lip, tapping his foot, and hands on his hips. As you head upstairs, you hear his heavy footsteps follow you; until you feel his arms wrap around you impatiently, carrying you the rest of the way while your laughter rings around the house.

—

Hobie, under the gaze of the sun, with his sweaty work shirt sticking to his skin as he hammers the windowsill in place; fixing the once shoddy workmanship left by the previous owner. You ogle him unabashedly. The ring that was previously hidden under the fabric of his bandana now sits upon his ring finger, you cried when you first saw it there for the first time in five years. He held you then, just like how he cradled you back when he gave the identical one to you.

He clings on the tresses that are filled with dried vines and creaking from his added weight. He hangs precariously, as if he's an expert climber at heart; you can't help but stare at him as he works on your shared home. You suppose you could use the old shakey tresses as your excuse on why you're watching him instead of tilling the land like you're supposed to. Telling him that you're only keeping watch of him just in case he falls so you could catch him. Which is impossible by itself, you'd break all your bones if you tried. But you suppose it'll be alright if it's for him. As if he feels your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder, a smile slowly curling on his lips as he spots your form still kneeling on the same spot he left you in twenty minutes ago.

The soil balled up into your hands sits there forgotten. A bag of cherry tomatoes sits next to you, wind almost taking them in its breeze as one passes by. You don't look away when he calls you out after you were caught. Instead, you stare harder, unabashedly winking at him. To which earns a hearty laugh from Hobie who almost falls from his bout of laughter.

You stagger, hands raised towards him as if you can catch him from where you are. “Careful!”

Hobie continues to laugh, calming your worries. “‘m alright, you should watch your tomatoes—” a strong wind picks up, with summer almost completely gone as the colder breeze carries your bag of seeds away from you. “And there it goes!” His guffaw fades from behind as you scramble for the seeds.

“Fuck!” You yell, hand placed on your sun hat so it doesn't get blown away. Despite you running at full speed towards what could be next season's meal, you smile widely, you're at peace here.

Hobie follows after you, running and catching up to you in a mad dash. “Hurry slowpoke!” He passes you, laughing as he goes.

“Slowpoke?! C’mere you little—!” Hobie suddenly stops and then turns around to catch you mid sprint. Your body slams into him, earning a grunt from Hobie, but his smile stays as he holds you in his arms.

“Gotcha!” He embraces you in place, face nudging your shoulder fondly.

“You're all sweaty!” You shriek out happily, hand placed upon his waist, fists clumped in his shirt. The seeds belong to the wind now, you suppose.

“You're no better! You're covered in dirt, lovie!” Hobie playfully wipes his cheeks on your airy shirt, leaving streaks of sweat on the soft linen. You laugh louder, trying to scramble away. And he feels like he has finally found his home in your arms.

You wipe your soil marred hands on his shoulders, leaving your hand prints on his once pristine shirt. You suddenly stop giggling, Hobie thinks he did something wrong until he follows your line of sight. There, a few ways away from the two of you, stands a black dog eating from your bag of seeds.

“Is that a coyote?” You ask, still holding on to him.

“Don't think so.” He whispers back.

“She shouldn't eat that, it might get her sick.” You untangle yourself from Hobie, and then you slowly make your way towards said dog. Hobie stops you halfway, hand gently on your shoulder.

“It might bite you.” He roams his eyes over to her black coat and long tail, her ears are floppy on the side of her head as she continues to munch on the crunchy seeds. There's no collar or any indication that she has an owner, she looks fine and somewhat healthy. Before he could take you away just in case the dog decides that you're a better meal, you're running back towards the house in a mad dash. “Where are you goin'?”

“I'm getting some jerky!”

“What? Why?!” He yells back as you get further and further away.

“Just stay there and watch her!” Your dusty boots are already stomping away inside as Hobie does what you told.

Hobie crouches down, elbows sitting atop his knees, watching the dog chow down. The black labrador pauses from eating from the presence watching her, head peeking out from the bag. Her dark eyes blink at Hobie, he waits for her, hand reaching out in a friendly manner and trying not to scare her away with any sudden movements. The dog sniffs, tail slowly wagging as she walks forward.

You watch from behind, eyes growing wider as you see Hobie let the dog sniff at his hand. When she finally lets him pet her head, Hobie looks back at you with a soft smile.

“Look at you, you're an animal whisperer.”

“Nah, I bet she was just hungry and knows how to swindle.”

Chuckling, you saunter towards them slowly, kneeling beside Hobie, you place the dried meat beside her. “There you go, it's better than some seeds.”

Hobie observes how you gently smile at the friendly dog as she tentatively sits in front of the meat. You let the dog approach you, waiting patiently as she eats until there's none left. She sniffs your knee, nudging you with her snout. He laughs as you surrender the rest of the beef jerky.

It's a peaceful silence of him and you just sitting there on the dry grassy ground while the strange dog eats his entire supply of jerky. He suppose he can always run to the general store for more.

The sun is high up, yet it's a comfortable heat on his skin. He preferred summers here, the searing heat always kept him awake and alert. But with you now here, he prefers how the cooling wind nips at his skin, how the leaves are now turning into sunsets that you always adore. And how much you wake up clinging to his side every morning. He prefers this, living with you, finally experiencing life again as if he picked up a book from where he left off years ago; it took some time and a lot of hurt to get here, but he would've done it all over again if it ended just like this. Maybe he'd do better, maybe he would make better decisions— for now, instead of lamenting about all the things that have happened, he'd rather stay in the present where you're currently in.

“I think we should keep her.” You say after a few moments. Hobie just now noticed how the dog now lays on your lap, probably sleeping off her meal. Your hand rubs softly on her back, eyes shining under the sun. “My aunt never let me have pets, she said that a proper lady shouldn't smell of wet dog.”

“Look at you now, covered in dirt, sweat and dog slobber.”

“She'd fucking die.” You laugh, it's the first time you've ever laughed after mentioning her. You finally feel like the shackles of her memory are starting to loosen up against your ankles.

Your happy laughter is slowly replaced with a sob, Hobie, with tears in his own eyes, holds you against him. Arms enveloping you, hands cradling your head as if the simple movement would take it all away. He wishes it did, but he knows that it will take time, and he'll wait, and be there for you no matter how long it takes. Even if it doesn't fully go away.

Under the sunshine of autumn, dry blades of grass underneath you, breeze whispering and carrying your sobs into the wind; Hobie holds you like nothing else matters, like it's just you and him, him and you against the bloody, forsaken world.

—

Clover the dog has taken upon you, you named her after the first piece of clover that sprouted along the property after you and Hobie toiled away for weeks just trying to keep it all alive. You've both fallen into a routine, you two wake up later than you both intended, snuggling under the thick covers. Always rushing through the routine to have more time to tend the house. You share chores, you cook in the morning while he cooks dinner. He fixes the house, while you try to revive the farmland. At night, you check all his previous injuries for any signs of it opening up; and he does it to you too, as gentle and careful like you were. All in all, you're proud of what you two have accomplished.

It's your very own borrowed heaven.

The house is now fully painted a soft blue; the same shade you both saw when you crossed the ocean to this new land. The door that was once a murky, muddy brown is now in a snowy white that matches the windows and picket fences. The fences aren't complete yet, the rest are still laying next to the barn where Cherry and Bucky hunker down every night after an energetic ride around their pen that used to be covered in piles of old wood and metal scraps. It took an entire week to clean it up even with the combined powers of you, Hobie, and Riri, who decided to pay you two a visit from time to time. She said that she was only making sure that the ‘loser’ hasn't hurt you in any way. To which Hobie promptly rolled his eyes and threw a plank of wood at her feet, to his words ‘make yourself useful instead of being a pain in my own home.’ You joked that he's starting to sound like one of those old men who would chase people out of their property if someone would step a foot onto his grass. And of course he had to call you grandma for the rest of the day in front of Riri because of it.

You sigh in content, smiling eyes roaming along the greener grass from the porch where you sit; and following along bucky and cherry who are running freely around their paddock. Clover huffs in your lap, and you chuckle, wondering what she's dreaming about. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves in the trees, and carrying it in its breeze. The swing under you shifts from the strong wind, hinges creaking along as you push with your socked feet. Hobie built you this swing right on the porch when he found you looking at the stars with your back aching from the lack of a seat. To add to it, he made it so that it'll fit you and him together with Clover sleeping on your lap.

You cover yourself more with Hobie's jacket, shivering slightly, nose and fingers cold. There's a sudden warmth on your cheek, you don't flinch or gasp from the surprise, knowing that it's Hobie with a warm cup of tea.

“Hi,” you smile up, Hobie returns the grin. He looks softer, edges rounded up. He's fresh from a bath, skin smelling of lavender and citrus. He prefers to wear softer and fleecy clothes now, leaving all the leather behind unless he's going for a ride towards town. Now he likes wearing knitted jackets that keeps him warm and comfortable without the stiffness of leather. He prefers jeans now too, and shirts with no collars that clings to his scar uncomfortably. A testament to how the first two buttons on his work shirt are unbuttoned, showing off his chest. “You look handsome.”

“When do I not?” He holds your cup in one hand and a glass of amber in the other. The golden ring in his ring finger shines in the afterglow.

You tilt your head playfully, taking his glass instead of the mug, eyes never leaving his own. He raises a brow when you take a sip from the glass, feeling the burn from the alcohol line your throat. “You're right, never. You always look good.” Your words are only for him and him only as you whisper it.

“Damn right.” He accepts defeat, letting you drink his whiskey while he drinks from your mug of tea. Clinking his glass against your own, you let out a snort, scooching to allow him space as he sits.

The warm liquid seeps into his calloused hands, eyes flicking over to you and between the land that he once thought was barren. Your plants still haven't borne fruit, but the greenery has sprouted like a miracle on dead soil. You almost gave up on the first month when nothing was working in your favour when the ground was still dry and grey. But you didn't, you kept at it everyday, tilling the soil, planting and replanting, watering everything until a single sprout appeared overnight. You jumped for joy when you saw, he still smiles remembering you running towards him with Clover in tow, and slamming yourself against him just to snog him until he was breathless.

He couldn't have made this into a house without you. This wouldn't be a home without you either.

You poke his cheek, feeling how much softer it is than before. “Whatever you're thinking about, stop it.”

“You want me to stop thinkin’ ‘bout you?”

You groan with a smile, head plopping down on his shoulder. “You never fail to rile me up.”

“Pot meet kettle, love.” He looks at you lovingly, like how a man would stare into the eyes of his wife.

Smiling, you place the mouth of your glass on his lips, letting him sip from the amber while he does the same with his tea placed on your own lips. You both drink, arms crossed over the other, lending each other's hand over the other.

You gulp down the warmth, letting it seep through your bones and muscles, letting it relax into you like a hug from a beloved.

Meanwhile, Hobie never let his eyes off you. Deep green eyes, the same colour as the sea of clovers in front of the home, has found its place on your lips, watching you drink from his cup while he drinks from your own.

A comfortable silence settles over the three of you. Clover snores on your lap, happy and content after finding her home. Hobie's hand kneads at your nape, letting his cool hands settle over your warm skin. With your head placed on his shoulder, you bask in your personal paradise. The birds chirp just a few ways away from you, finding their nests settled on the windmill that you two haven't fixed just yet. The sunset paints the entire farm in shades of orange and pink, hues of autumn blanketing the peaceful place you and Hobie built.

This is home, not the marbled walls of the manor you used to reside. Not the fine silks you used to sleep on, *this is home; with it's rough edges, broken pipes that groan in the night, with its walls made from wood and brick that feels cold on your skin— it's home, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

You feel him shift closer to you, lips pressing softly against your temple. His hand tracing above your scar. “Shoulder feelin’ alright?”

Humming, you close your eyes as he peppers kisses from your temple down to your wind whipped cheek. “It's feeling much better now, thanks to you.” He takes your glass and places it down on the floor right next to his own mug.

“I didn't do much.” Hobie chuckles, returning to your side not a moment longer, his knuckles brushes along your collarbone. “‘sides, you did all the healin’”

You sigh, eyes meeting up with his own. He can see love in your simple gaze. “Yeah, only because you've cleaned it every night before bed.” Hobie chuckles when you poke his stomach, in return, he nudges his nose against your own, earning a soft hum of approval from you. “How's your head? And everything else?” You narrow your eyes playfully, “can you still count to a hundred?”

His loud guffaw makes you laugh. Shaking his head, he pulls you closer. “It's good,” he says against your lips, breath fanning across your soft skin. “I've got a good nurse.”

“Your nurse didn't go to school for it.” You joke again. Hobie pecks your lips once, twice, until you're pulling him in by his shirt. You feel his smile throughout it all. He kisses you gently, yet he holds you like he's about to lose you.

The much needed kiss is interrupted by Clover sneezing on your lap, snot covering your flowy skirt. You pull away with a laugh, eyes still closed as his fingers still grips your chin, already feeling him pull you in once again.

“Hobie.” You call while he continues to snog you, kissing along the shape of your lips, etching how your lips feel, and how you sigh against him; how you kiss back wholeheartedly.

He hums, murmuring your name while the sound of his kisses echo around the porch and atop the songs of birds flying overhead.

You giggle as his searing hands find its way under your shirt and onto your stomach. He pauses, eyes blinking slowly at you. You clamp down, shining lips shut closed as he raises a brow.

“What? You ticklish now?” Hobie asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You shake your head with a smile. “Nope.”

There's a grin slowly forming on his equally shiny lips. “I think I need to reacquaint myself, I don't remember you being ticklish—” he pokes your side. “—right ‘ere.”

You gasp in feigned offense, “I'm not!”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Wiggling his fingers, you laugh, reaching for his hands before he could attack.

“Okay! Only on that part.” You confess with a breathy laugh. He nods, tucking that information inside his head to be used one day.

Hobie returns to his drink, opting to sip at what was supposed to be your tea. The tea is now tepid, but he still drinks it anyway. You push the swing with your feet, softly, the swing sways back and forth while Clover lays asleep with your hand petting her head.

“We should take Riri up on her offer.” You say into the growing dark of the farm, watching the sun go further down and the light fade away. “It's been three months since she first invited us over.”

“She can wait,” Hobie has latched himself on you, arm snaked around your middle as he finishes his tea.

“Want to hog me all to yourself then?”

“That obvious?” He glances at your beaming face before his eyes stare at Bucky and Cherry trotting inside the barn on their own. Sometimes he thinks those two are actually humans trapped inside a horse's body. He has never seen smarter horses than them.

“Are you worried? About me getting back out there?” You play with the button of his work shirt, letting his scent waft over you when a breeze carries it towards you.

“What if…” Hobie sighs, eyes staring at you with worry. It's a grip taking hold around his body. “What if someone finds us again?” He remembers all the times you two were found by both the law and your aunt’s hired guns even when he took extra precautions. There's still that looming threat especially with how suspiciously peaceful your journey to the farm was. He has every right to be worried, you are too. “As much as good you are with a gun, I don't want to see you shootin’ it at someone again. ‘m… not tryin’ to control you, I just—”

You hold his cheek, thumb brushing along his jaw tenderly, feeling all the tiny scars left on his skin. “No, I understand. You're not like them, Hobie. No one will ever control me ever again.” At your words, he leans towards your touch, hand lifting up to meet with yours. “I won't let them.” Nodding, he kisses your palm, you notice how his hand shakes above your own. You don't mention it. “It's been five months since the train, they might have given up.”

“Let's hope so.” He softly says, green eyes gazing at you. Eyes that haven't seen peace in years, until now.

“Yeah, hope.” It's a fickle thing, but it's enough to light a fire in you. If they come, you'll fight with everything you've got. You've got everything to lose now, and you're willing to wield a gun once more to protect it all. If not, then it'll be a gift that you won't throw away, you'd live here peacefully, live the life you've always longed for. You're afraid that it would be the former.

—

You saddle up the horses in the barn, Buckeye watches your every move as you strap the saddle over to Cherry. There’s worry in his inky eyes, a look that you're all too familiar with. Clover runs around the barn, sniffing everything she comes across.

“You alright there, Buck? What's got you all worried, huh?” You don't expect him to answer, but he neighs in response, a sharp one that has you raising a brow. You've never heard him make that irritated sound. “What's gotten into you?” As you slide your hands down on Cherry's stomach to finish the saddle, Bucky, neighs loudly, hooves thumping against the ground. He looks like he's about to rush into you and throw you over. “Bucky, calm down!” You put your hands up, staying away from both horses.

“Buckeye!” Hobie's booming voice ricochets around the barn as he enters, putting a stop to Bucky's tantrum. Even Clover stops running for a second before returning to her adventure. “What's gotten into you, boy?” He pets his snout, effectively calming him down.

“I was putting on Cherry's saddle and he suddenly got mad.”

“He looks alright.” Nodding, Hobie roams his eyes all over his horse, checking each of his horse shoes in case there's something embedded in his feet. “Nothin’s wrong with him. What about Cherry? He's been overprotective of her lately.”

“Ah shit, do you think I put it on too tight?” Hobie keeps his hold on Bucky's reins, just in case. You check all the belts and buckles on the saddle, finding the fit just right. Until you get to her stomach. “Wait—” hands roaming around, you feel a bump. “What is that?” Cherry looks at you, if horses could raise their brow, she would've done it already. “Are you—?!” You gasp, eyes meeting with Hobie. Glaring at the horse next to him, you embrace Cherry. “Bucky, what did you do to Cherry!”

He already knows what you found. “I think it was a combined effort, love.” Scratching the back of Bucky's ear, Hobie chuckles at your reaction. “You did not waste time, huh, boy?”

“She's smaller than him!” You look at Bucky as if he can explain himself, to which the horse just huffs at you. Hobie keeps patting Buckeye on his back, while Cherry isn't even listening in on the conversation anymore. She prefers the pile of hay next to her, eating without a care.

“And? You are too compared to me.” Hobie unabashedly answers for Bucky. You gasp then laugh, a laugh that changes to a playful offended chortle. You grab a bucket from the ground, ready to throw it at him.

“You should run, Hobie!” Before you could finish yelling, Hobie's already sprinting back inside the house. You run after him, bucket in hand, ready to throw carrots at him.

Hobie waits for carrots to be pelted at him, only to turn around to see you gawking at the planted vegetable patch before you. He stops by the steps on the porch, hands on his hips as you let go of the bucket with a thud.

“What's wrong?”

“They've grown.” You whisper in disbelief, Hobie almost didn't catch your words. Chuckling, you look at Hobie with tears in your eyes. “We’ve got tomatoes!” Pouncing on him, he catches you, arms holding you in place while you celebrate against his neck.

He roams his eyes downwards towards the tomatoes until he spots a handful of it just under a bunch of leaves. “Holy shit!” Hand behind your head, he jumps up and down, matching your excitement. “You did it, love!”

You lean away, and then immediately peppers his face with a dozen kisses, leaving him almost dizzy. Before he could kiss back, you're already back on the ground, plucking the ripest looking one. It's as big as your hand, red and plump; ripe for the taking. All the countless times you've read botany books have finally borne fruit.

Wiping the dirt off of the tomato on your shirt, you hand it to him. “Wanna do the honors?”

“This is all you, lovie.” He gently places it back in your palm, hand lingering on yours; identical rings shining brightly.

You nod as thanks, heart beating rapidly. With a tentative bite, you let the juice coat your mouth, overflowing until it's dripping from your chin. It's perfect, and Hobie thinks you look perfect even with juice sliding down your chin and arm.

“Do you want a room? Because I can go.” Hobie jokes, you laugh heartily.

“Here,” you say, mouth full. “Try it.”

Hobie takes it, biting down just as the same as you, with juices flowing down his arm and onto his shirt. “Fuck!”

You nod rapidly, pride filling your chest. “Right?!”

“Y/N,” he calls, mouth still taking bites of the produce. Gesturing towards the neighboring plants, he watches as your expression morphs into pure elation when you spot your potatoes growing out of the soil, like bald heads peeking out from underneath.

There's dozens of them all lined up and ready to be harvested. You almost guffaw, satisfied and successful at growing something on the once thought barren land.

“We're gonna need a basket.” Perhaps your trip to Riri's saloon will have to wait.

—

The trip to town took longer since Cherry was out of commission, and you only had Bucky to take with you on the ride. By the time you and Hobie make it to Riri's saloon, lunch was in full swing. The place is smaller compared to the other establishments you've been in, and yet, it doesn't lack the energy. Customers line the bar, eating and drinking their fill. Jaunty music fills your ears just as when the saloon doors close behind you, Hobie's hand is placed on the small of your back, fingertips pressing softly, leading you towards the far end of the saloon where the bar is placed.

You roam your eyes around, the band plays on a stage in your right, cello, fiddles and trumpets play alongside the piano. Customers dance around with their partners, smiling faces whizz past you, giving you a polite greeting as you go. There are numerous tables littered around with the people sitting there and chatting energetically, their conversations rising above the music.

A hearty laugh above reaches your ears, when you look up, you see a spiral staircase that leads to the second floor with a balcony. A few patrons look down at you with their drinks in their hands, some are watching the poker game with amusement in their eyes. Drinking glasses clink around while you continue to make your way towards Riri who happens to be tending the bar.

The walls are in a creamy white with rows upon walls of paintings full of portraits and landscapes. There's a giant moose antler above the bar, looming over everyone. The place smells of booze and whiskey. Oddly enough, the scent of melted chocolate lingers above the fog of rum and moonshine. A crystal chandelier hangs high up on the ceiling, the centerpiece of the saloon. Sunlight from the windows filters through the brightly coloured glass, drenching the walls and floor with a kaleidoscope of light.

“Hey, Hobie!” Someone yells from above, Hobie gives them a curt nod. A handful of people recognize him, some greet him kindly like an old friend would. Some gaze at him with trepidation in their eyes.

A stranger with an eyepatch clasps his shoulder before staggering outside. Hobie chuckles and rolls his eyes at the older man.

“Someone's popular.” You whisper.

“A side effect of my reputation.” He smiles gently, fingers tapping on the small of your back. Leading you towards the corner of the bar, the far end where the back door sits behind it; he settles the two of you there, further away from strangers that could make you uncomfortable.

“Finally!” Riri exclaims, “the prodigal son returns!” Everyone at the bar hoots and whistles at Hobie. He ignores each of them, earning some booing and hissing from the crowd. You chuckle from seeing Hobie hide his smile under the brim of his hat. Riri slides in front of you, beer bottle in hand and then plops it in Hobie's waiting hand. “And with the prettiest girl this side of town has ever seen. What have you two been up to in your little slice of heaven, huh? Haven't seen you in months.”

“Busy with the farm.” Hobie says against the lip of his bottle, hand never leaving your back.

“Farm? Your dirt farm? You sure it's not you getting busy with our girl here, eh, Hobs?” Riri gives you a knowing look, you're flustered enough as it is. Hobie just shakes his head, eyes roaming everywhere but your eyes or Riri's.

You clear your throat. “We actually managed to grow something out there. We've got tomatoes, potatoes and even some carrots and strawberries blooming.” Your genuine smile turns Riri's playful one to a proud grin. “We'd bring you some of our harvest but we only rode on Bucky. We didn't want to stress him out further.”

“Why's that?” Riri cleans a glass with a cloth, “Is Cherry sick? We've got a veterinarian here for that.”

“No, she's pregnant.”

“Goddamn, Bucky did not waste any time.”

Hobie nods, “that's what I said.”

“Let's hope his rider doesn't do the same, eh?” She sends you both a wink.

“Fuckin' hell, Riri.” Hobie squeezes the bridge of his nose whilst you're left blubbering from her words. “Is there lunch left for us?” He says with a sigh.

“If you're nice about it, yeah.” Riri looks over at you. “Except for you, pretty, there's always a meal here for you.” You smile, head tilting towards Hobie's shoulder from bashfulness.

“Roast beef still on the menu?” Hobie asks, bottle half empty, stomach growling.

“Say please.” Riri says pointedly.

Hobie huffs, flicking his eyes towards you briefly before surrendering. “...please.”

Riri smirks, “it's always on the menu.” Hobie rolls his eyes at that.

He pokes your back, knuckles tracing around where he poked you. “How ‘bout you? Riri's chef can cook anythin’ you want.”

“Don't steal my words, Hobie.” Riri raises a brow. “Karl can make you anything you want.”

You laugh nervously at the eyes staring and waiting for you. “Uh, I'll have what he's having. And…” Hobie encourages you with a smile and a squeeze on your back. “Soup, any kind of soup you've got available.”

Riri pats the back of your hand with a soft smile. “We've got pumpkin, is that alright?”

“It's perfect.” You turn towards Hobie who's beaming at you, hiding his face with the brim of his hat from the rest of the customers.

—

You watch and listen with a smile in your seat, hand clasped around a glass of orange juice. The band ramps up their set, the music has gotten jauntier and happier right after you finished eating. More people have left the bar to either dance or play poker upstairs. Hobie still sits behind you, fingers curled around your belt loop lovingly. You feel him tapping rhythmically to the sound of the snare drum.

Looking over your shoulder, he nods at you with a soft smile. “They're good, aren't they?” You ask, chin atop your shoulder.

“Yeah, but I think you can beat them.”

You roll your eyes with a chuckle, fully twisting around on the bar stool to wipe a drop of sauce at the tip of his chin, fingers lingering there for a moment. “It's not a competition, Hobs.”

Before Hobie could give a reply, Riri slides over with a slice of chocolate cake. “You know how to play?”

You eye the dessert. “The piano, but I haven't practiced in a while.”

“She's bein’ humble. She's bloody brilliant on the keys.” Hobie takes the plate from Riri with a quick thank you, and then he places it in front of you casually.

You almost protested, thinking that Hobie yanked another customer's order. But Riri proves your thoughts wrong when she, herself, hands you a small fork for your dessert. You mumble a soft thank you, too shy, too grateful to say it louder lest you burst into tears. The cake has chocolate swirls with a large, plump strawberry on top of it. You don't waste time digging in.

“Isn't there an old broken piano at your place?” Riri continues the conversation, eyes flicking to your happy face with a soft smile.

“Yeah, been thinkin’ ‘bout fixin’ the damn thing but I have no idea how.” You almost actually cried on your cake when Hobie said those words.

“I think old man Roberto can fix it.” You savour the cake, listening in on the conversation.

“Your pianist?”

“Yeah, he's a doctor too, did you know that? Pretty great if you ask me—” Riri pauses, you follow her confused look. You see Hobie's stony expression, green eyes aflame like greek fire engulfing an entire fleet of ships. You and Riri have the same idea by following his gaze. She clears her throat at the sight, while you only see a broad shouldered man on the stairs, watching the band play.

“You okay?” You feel worried all of a sudden, what if this was another Culver situation? “Do you know him?”

“An old…acquaintance. Don't worry, he just owes me money.” Patting your back, he doesn't want to lie to you. What would that even bring?

“Oh, alright.” You slide the plate over to him. “I saved you some cake.”

Hobie chuckles, “nah, it's all yours, love.”

“Thank you,” you take the plate back. “I was just being nice.” Hobie shakes his head with a chuckle, you miss how he's having a silent conversation with Riri while you chow down.

“What did you even put in this, Riri? It's so fucking good!” With your fork, you scrape the plate to gather the rest of the chocolate icing. You have no shame at this point, it's the best cake you've ever had.

Riri takes a while to reply, so you lift your head up to see what's going on. You're met with her genuine smile. “Don't thank me, thank my grandma, it's a family recipe.”

“Well, thank you, Riri's grandma.”

Hobie stares at something behind you, Riri interrupts you before you could look over your shoulder. “Do you want to meet the band?”

“Holy shit! Really?” You grin from ear to ear, turning to see Hobie give you a nod and a small smile. “Do I have something in my teeth?” You grin widely, Hobie shakes his head, amused by you.

“Yeah, they're really nice. Come on, let's get you acquainted.” Riri jumps over the bar effortlessly, taking you by the hand and leading you towards the dance floor.

“I'll be back, Hobie!” You excitedly say over your shoulder as Riri twirls you around in the middle of the crowd. Hobie chuckles in his seat, drinking a cup of tea. He hears Riri ask you to dance, to which you happily agree.

Hobie keeps an eye on you, and he trusts Riri to keep you safe until he's done dealing with him. Hobie watches as Miguel saunters off towards him, spurs clinking as he sits down on your seat.

“Looks like Riri took your girl.” He says while ordering a beer from the other bartender.

“Why didn't you tell me that it was her, Miguel?”

Miguel catches the drink in his open palm as the bottle slides from the other end to his hand. “Simple, I didn't know who she was.” He cracks it open by banging the cap against the edge of the bar. The metal clanks on the floor as it falls.

“Bullshit, O’Hara.” Hobie says through clenched teeth.

“She has a sweet tooth doesn't she?” He refers to your almost clean plate.

“Miguel.” Hobie utters more pointedly, taking the beer from his hand before he even takes a sip. “Why didn't you tell me it was her?”

Miguel sighs, “I didn't know it was her. But I had a hunch. People at camp talk y’know. And you're a blabber mouth when you're drunk. A deadly combination.” He eyes his beer bottle, Hobie waits for more answers. “The guy who gave me the job just gave me her description. The same description I gave you, Hobie. Not my fault you didn't recognize her.”

“Who gave it to you?”

Miguel flexes his hand, asking for his drink back. Hobie clenches his jaw before sliding the bottle back to him reluctantly. “You should thank me. I got you two together again.”

“Just tell me, Miguel, or I'll ask for that bounty you owe me.”

“You technically didn't complete the job, so…” Hobie stares at him with the same look that Miguel has only seen him sport when he has his target in his crosshairs. “It was a middleman. He said his boss was an oil baron of some kind.” He’s about to take a sip, but doesn't. Grimacing when he brings the bottle back down to only see Hobie having the same fiery look. It brings a shiver down his spine. “Can you stop?”

“Who?”

“Don't know, didn't ask.”

“She could've died, Miguel.” That thought has him trembling in place. Hobie balls his fists, hiding how the mere thought of it shakes him to his core.

“She would've died either way, Hobie. But she had you, if I gave the job to any other person, she would've. Trust me, I did not know it was her, or that you even knew her. It's not like I made her come here.”

Hobie inhales sharply. “It wasn't you who sent the letter?”

“What fucking letter?”

“I sense some tension in the air. You know, conducting business in my establishment isn't allowed. Except if you involve me.” Riri jumps to Miguel's side, taking the beer from his hand, chugging it as sweat drips from her brow. With a sigh, Miguel orders another beer.

“Where's Y/N?” Hobie answers his own question when he sees you playing the piano with the rest of the band. His lips curl up into a smile, fists unclenching at the music you're playing. You're having the time of your life.

“Relax, Romeo, she's fine.” Riri claps to the rhythm. Hobie hears your hearty laugh from where he's sitting. The saloon's band seems to be having fun too.

In Hobie's mind, everything clicks in place. “It was you who sent my letter.” Hobie jabs his finger on Riri's shoulder blade.

She snorts, “of course it was me. I couldn't handle your sulking any longer. Seriously, I was losing customers because of your weekly letter writing and crying session.”

Miguel laughs, he sees Hobie's glare and tamps down to a snicker. Riri leans in the bar to yank a bottle of whiskey from underneath the shelves.

“Why?”

“You weren't happy being a lone ranger.”

Hobie feels like lightning struck him. “Fuckin' hell, Riri, you could've said somethin'. Warned me ‘bout it.”

“And? You'd somehow find it in your heart to immediately forgive her and pick her up from the docks?” Riri pours the whiskey inside three glasses, handing it to each of the men. “You’re like a brother to me, Hobie. We came up in this fuckwad’s gang—” she points at Miguel who's caught in the middle. He just pinches the bridge of his nose. “—at the same time. Do you think I'd let you wallow and die alone in that dirt farm of yours?”

Hobie doesn't answer. He knows that the journey was needed. But if Riri actually warned him about it beforehand, would you be here right now? Or would you be dead somewhere along your journey to him because he couldn't find it in his heart to come to you?

“See? Not everything's my fault. Just a freak coincidence.” Miguel pipes up, now eating a slice of cake just as you have.

Riri ignores him. “I know you had a slight apprehension towards her because of what happened.”

“She could've died, Riri. When I found her, she was trying to steal food.”

Riri breathes shakily, eyes glossing over. “And I'm sorry for that, truly. I never thought that would happen, or that her people would put a bounty on her. I only knew her from you, Hobie. I'm sorry. And I'll apologize to her, I promise.”

“She's really good on that piano.” Miguel comments before returning to his cake. Hobie and Riri continue to ignore him.

Hobie sucks in his teeth. “‘Slight apprehension’ didn't cut it back then.” He whispers.

Riri looks at him with a frown, eyes downturned. She knows his story, and she knows his side of it. “You know when I was a kid I used to hate the edges on bread. I always asked my mom to cut it off for me which added more workload for her, but she still did it.” She smiles fondly. “And now as an adult I love the edges, it's the best part of the bread for me.”

“What are you sayin'?”

“I'm saying that people change. And I'm not just referring to her.” Hobie understands her double entendre.

Hobie scoffs, stealing a quick glance at you. “It's bread, Riri.”

“I can see that she may have thought you were a burden back then but I highly doubt she has the same thoughts now.” Riri takes a sip from her glass. “How would you even know that you were a burden to her when the exact words didn't come out of her own mouth?”

“She told me it wasn't her, I know that now. It was all Hicks, the same fucker that did this to me.” Miguel straightens in his seat, Riri flicks her eyes at his scar knowingly. “They're still lookin’ for her, I know it.”

“If they ever find you both, we have your back.” Riri clasps Hobie's shoulder. He holds her hand briefly before letting go with a thankful nod. “It's the least I can do.” Miguel agrees with a grunt and a pat on his gun.

“It's more than enough, Ri.”

You wave towards Hobie from the small stage, jumping down to walk past the crowd and to him. Hobie's heart feels a little bit lighter from the conversation, like a bullet taken out from his skin.

Miguel stands up, and then pats Hobie and Riri in the shoulder before putting his hat back on. His hazel eyes meet with yours for a second, you give him a polite smile as you navigate your way out of the jam-packed audience.

Miguel fixes his hat, eyes zeroing in on the ring around Hobie's finger. “Nice ring. You two tied the knot without inviting me and the rest of the gang?” You pause by the menu, acting like something caught your eye while you listen in. The saloon is noisy enough for his words to be muffled, but you understood it perfectly.

“Not really,” Hobie glances towards you for a second before flicking his eyes over at his ring that he keeps twisting and turning around his finger.

“Well you've got everything else covered. And I've seen the way you look at her. If that's not marriage, I don't know what is.” Miguel clasps Hobie's shoulder in a parting goodbye, his face is unreadable from where you are. Miguel leans in closer this time, hazel eyes staring into Hobie's soul. His expression turns serious, lips pursed into a thin line, whispering words that you couldn't hear from where you stood. “You gonna tell her all the things you've done to survive this place?”

Hobie stands up to greet you halfway. “Worse, she has seen it.” Miguel leaves, and Hobie holds your hand with a proud smile, but you can tell something happened while you were gone. He sees it, so he leads you back to the bar where Riri waits to tell you everything.

“Did he pay you back?”

“Nah, he didn't have the money on him.”

“What an asshole.” He laughs, not bothering to hide his affection for you in front of the whole saloon any longer.

—

You lean back, smiling at the lavender sunset before you. Hobie's hands are occupied with the reins, but he still finds the time to nuzzle his chin on your shoulder. A small act that has you grinning as you cup his cheek for a moment.

Riri's confession was a surprise to you, but after the shock ended, you couldn't help but let out a loud guffaw in the saloon. You stood out like a sore thumb whilst Hobie rubs your back from how much you were laughing. You even thanked Riri for what she did on Hobie's behalf, to which she sighed in relief from your reaction. If she didn't send that letter, you'd still be in that wretched place, you'd still be half dead, surviving but not living. The journey to Hobie was tough and marred with pain and bloodshed, and yet, you'd take that journey all over again if you knew that he'd be holding you like this once again; that he still loves you despite everything that has happened to him and to you. With a parting hug, and a promise that you'll visit again, you and Hobie set off back on the road towards home.

The route home is filled with an abundance of scenery. Fields of flowers and tall grass line the sides of the bumpy dirt road. Daisies, poppies and baby's breath are in full bloom, its colours bringing even more brightness to the land. Cows and horses graze all over, they look up at the sound of Bucky's hooves thudding against the soil.

Hobie gathers up the reins in one hand, arm holding on to your waist before bending down from his saddle. Buckeye still gallops away as you immediately try to get a hold of Hobie before he falls.

“What are you doing?!” You ask, voice shaky, eyes up front while he has his palm open, gathering flowers on the side of the road.

“Just hold onto me!” Numerous flowers gather in his hand, its petals are filled with dew, sweet smelling and colourful against his leather gloves. Some of the stems are broken from the motion of the galloping horse. But you don't mind as he sends you a wink while he's on the side like he's doing the most mundane thing.

Laughing, you help pull him up. He hands you the bundle of flowers from behind, lips brushing along the shell of your ear. “That'll be five bucks.”

You giggle, thumb brushing along one of its red petals. “That's expensive for a roadside bouquet.” Hiding your face behind the flowers, you take a whiff of the sweetness whilst you gaze behind you through your fluttering lashes. “I think you're swindeling me, cowboy.”

“Fine,” he dramatically sighs, earning a soft laugh from you. His viridescent eyes remind you of the clovers back home. “I'll give you a discount.”

“A kiss then?”

“I was goin' to say ‘three bucks’ but that works too.” His eyes are on the road, but he briefly gazes into yours with tenderness.

“I'll pay my dues then.” You crane your neck back as far as you can. With a hand running up behind his head, you push him gently to meet with your own for a quick peck. “There, all paid.”

Hobie grins, trying hard not to indulge more lest he crashes Bucky into a tree. “Nah, that was half.”

“Half?” You feign a scoff. “Fine, I'll give it to you in installments.” Your neck is starting to ache from the position, but you can't help but keep still when he even looks this good in this awkward angle.

Bucky slows down, you hear the rush of a body of water before you see it. Hobie clicks his tongue, Buck completely stops from the command. “I'll take it.”

“You're not gonna ask when I'll ‘pay’ you?”

Hobie places his hand around your throat, not clenching, nor digging in; no, he does it to gently straighten your neck to save you from a crick in your nape. You follow willingly, never have you felt this soft kind of grasp around your neck— it's been the opposite before this, before him.

The pads of Hobie's fingers rub along your nape, soothing the growing ache. “Surprise me.”

Your smile grows when you quickly look forward, you see a small dock in a shining lake that's surrounded by oak trees and cattails growing on the side. The water shimmers under the afterglow like diamonds laid upon silk.

Hobie raises his brows with a smile, you're sure he's patting himself on the back. He smoothly gets off his horse with a flourish. With his feet back on the ground, he holds your waist, waiting for you to push yourself off so he could help you down. As if you ever need it, but you sometimes like to be spoiled this way, especially if It's Hobie spoiling you with his affections.

You hold the bouquet against your chest while he looks up at you lovingly, not telling you to hurry up or attempt to yank you off. “They told me that you're so mashed. What does that even mean?”

“Who's they?”

“The band, they said and I quote, ‘that Hobie is properly mashed for you! We've never seen him look at someone like that unless—’” You pause, hands on his wrist, pushing yourself off as he guides you down on the ground carefully. You floated for a moment, you then tuck the flowers in Bucky's saddle bag for safe keeping.

“Unless what?”

You bite your lip to tamp down a laugh. “‘Unless you're one of Riri’s homemade chocolate cakes.’” Poking his chest, you playfully jab him while he has his hands up in mock surrender. “I knew you wanted that cake!”

“It was yours! And I've had it a thousand times before, love.” He grabs your wrists, stopping your poking to pull your hand over his neck so you'd hold him closer. Toe to toe, you close the gap even more by scooching closer.

You poke him with your chin on his clavicle. “And here I thought you were being nice.”

“I was,” Hobie utters against your lips, “don't worry, I ordered one for myself while you were playing on stage.”

You gasp in feigned offense. “You dare?!”

Nodding, Hobie pulls you closer by your wrist. “I dare.” He mocks teasingly.

“Guess I have to jump in the lake to let the waters wash away this betrayal.” Moving away, you walk backwards towards the dock while keeping an eye at him.

Hobie watches you go. The second he steps forward, you sprint away, giggling. Milkweeds and poppies brush along your legs as you run while stripping off your boots and jacket, you then throw it all behind you. The fabric hits Hobie's face, he hears a splash as he yanks it off, laughing with you. Stripping off his coat, belt and boots, he jumps in right after with a louder and bigger splash.

The water is colder than you expected when it hit your skin. But you suppose it's worth staying for a little while even if it means getting a cold. You wipe your face from the splash that hit you, shivering slightly and incredibly happy without a care for the rest of the world.

“Hobie?” You twist around, swimming in a circle to look for him.

Hobie doesn't resurface after his jump, your grin slowly turns into panic when you see bubbles rise up from where he jumped.

“Hobie!” You feel bile rise in your throat, panic and worry settling in your stomach. “Hob—!” You're suddenly lifted up, thighs perched on his shoulder with his head in between. “You ass—!” You see him give you a smirk before tossing you behind with a splash.

He once again lifts you up, by your waist this time. He's met with a glare from you, and he has the audacity to laugh at your face. You splash, wiggling and thrashing in his hold. “‘m sorry! I saw the opportunity!”

“Not funny! I thought you drowned!” Continuing to splash at his face, Hobie embraces you against his chest until you've tired yourself out. You manage to give him one last splash to his face before you gave up, and then you slouch against him.

“Good thing I taught you how to swim, huh?” He softly says, floating around the lake.

“Yeah,” you hide behind the crook of his neck, nose nudging his skin while you try to forget how your aunt reacted when you came home drenched and dripping on her carpets.

“You okay?” Hobie rubs in between your shoulders. “‘m sorry, I thought it was funny.”

You sniff from the cold, leaning away to meet with his eyes. “It was, just don't take too long to resurface.” Smiling, you wipe water droplets off his pierced eyebrow. “Remember the day you convinced me to let you teach me how to swim?”

“Yeah, I told you that you wouldn't be able to swim if the ship you're on capsizes.”

“It scared the shit out of me.”

“‘m sorry that scared you.”

“Stop apologizing,” you cup his jaw, feeling his stubble, “besides, we ended up here years later. It's a good ending.”

“Yeah, a good ending.” He fixes your blouse, laying the collar flat so the edge doesn't poke your eye out. Noticing your far off stare behind him, he imagines the worst. But when he turns, he sees a huge deer with large antlers drinking from the side of the lake. “Holy shit.” Hobie moves, but you stop him so he doesn't startle the deer.

It continues to drink calmly. A bush from the side shakes, Hobie almost went for his gun but he's proven wrong when a white tailed doe appears.

“She's gorgeous,” you whisper, hugging him from behind while you watch the doe drink next to the deer. “Do you think they know each other?”

“Maybe.” He doesn't believe his eyes, “maybe they're mates.”

You kiss his cold cheek. “You think so?”

With your hands intertwined with his own underwater, he pulls you closer until there's no space left in between. He once dreamed to be this close to you, now that he's skin to flesh with you, he will never let go. He'd rather be buried alive again rather than be apart with you.

The deer nudges the doe's head before they gallop away from the lake. Hobie sniffs, finger brushing along your ring. “Yeah, they are.”

—

The sun has fully set now, dark blue engulfing you with the night howling its cold breeze against your wet skin. The large oak tree behind you shields you from the harsh wind. It reminds you of the one back home where he carved both of your initials on the trunk. Hobie embraces you from behind, sharing his warmth while you two wait for the clothes on your back to dry before riding home. Bucky sleeps next to you, huffing in his sleep. The bonfire roars, warming you in its orange glow, flames dancing in your vision.

Hobie hasn't taken his fingers off your ring that he rolls around your finger since you sat down. His eyes stare at the fire, shoulders relaxed, yet his jaw is clenched. You think his body is acting on instinct, and is still getting used to the calm.

“You're quiet, I'm worried.” You say, head leaning on his chest, back slouched to look at him.

Hobie raises a brow, eyes glancing down at you before returning back to the fire. “‘m thinkin’.”

“That's a first,” you joke, squeezing his hand. He chuckles, pecking the top of your head once before sighing in your hair. “Okay, now I'm worried. What's wrong?”

“I was thinkin' that we're practically married.” Something flashes behind your eyes that he missed. “We've got the rings, the house, the love and everythin' else.” He can't let Miguel get to him, but he can't get his words out of his mind either. If that's not marriage, I don't know what is.

You give him a soft shaky smile, eyes glossy against the light of the bonfire. Cradling his face, he leans against your palm, placing a heavy kiss on your cool skin. A sob threatens to escape you, clawing at your chest to be let go. You don't let it.

“We kind of are, huh?” He asks, eyes closed while holding your hand against his lips.

“I–it's close.” You manage to choke out. “I suppose we are, Hobs.” Tears collect in your lashes, blurring him in your vision like water colours bleeding in together. “Are you afraid of it?” Of us? You fear waking up one day and finding his side of the bed empty except for a note addressed to you. It's irrational, you know it is.

“No,” he sniffs, “it's the opposite. My fear isn't anywhere near that.”

You blink to clear the tears, letting it fall without a sound. “What are you most afraid of, cowboy?”

Hobie opens his eyes and you're met with a sea of green, shining and glittering just like the lake near you. “You, you're what I'm most afraid of.” You turn to fully face him, body placed in between his legs that comfortably cage you in. You don't let him go even when he burrows his chin on the top of his chest. For a moment, he doesn't say a word, until he sniffs and returns to meet with your eyes. “Losin’ you, seein’ your blood stainin’ my hands.” He holds both of your hands in his own. “That's what I'm afraid of, not my own death, yours. Because I can't live another five years without you. Especially a life lived without you isn't a life well lived.”

You feel his love and all the ache he carried in those five years like never before. He doesn't want to lose the life he built with you here; he doesn't want to lose all the mornings with you, he doesn't want to sleep without you by his side. He doesn't want to lose you.

You never even thought for a moment that you deserve this kind of tenderness after all the hatred that was thrown at you like a hail of firestorm. And yet, here he is, he loves you, the kind of love that reverberates through your very bones and settles into your soul. You still don't think you deserve it, but who are you to deny such love, especially from him? You did not beg for this kind of love, nor prayed for it. It's not the kind of love that the fates or the universe have thrust upon you in a shower of meteors. It was gradual, it came in a trickle and then a wave. And when you two were finally on the same page— you love him with every single bone in your body— you love him intentionally and wholeheartedly.

Kneeling to level with him, hands holding his cheeks, you hope that your simple touch is enough to let him feel all the love and affection you have for the man before you.

With your forehead against his own, you softly utter the same three words you've been telling him every morning and and every night before bed. “I love you.” He nods, whispering the same words atop your lips like a mantra; a song that replays in his head over and over again. You kiss the corner of his lips before leaning away. “I–if that ever happens, I'll live for you. I'll bring back my blood inside me if I have to.” You wipe away his stray tear, “Just promise me you'll do the same.” You know that you won't be able to do anything if it does happen to you, nor he, if it happens to him. They're empty promises meant to fill the holes in your chests for comfort to hold onto— to help ease your minds throughout the night whilst he lays his head upon your chest at night.

The weight of the looming threat feels like a reality. As if someone laid a pillow to his sleeping face. Hobie takes you in his arms, embracing you; hand placed on the back of your head as if he's already trying to shield you from what he fears most.

The mere thought of you loving him so much that you'd defy death itself, and despite the blood underneath his nails has him tethering upon the precipice of paradise. Maybe that's all there is then, to be loved despite the blood staining his hands, and despite his gnashing teeth that could take your flesh if he so desires; that he'll never desire to do to you— It's enough for him to be with you, and for you to be with him until you're both old and frail, until you're both six feet under; behind the same house he made into a home for you.

He has everything to lose, and he'll raise hell itself if need be just to bring you back. *When they come for you, there won't be enough bullets in the world for him.

With determination in his eyes that fans the flames in his chest, he utters an impossible promise on your skin.

“I promise.”

You hug Hobie, hand splayed on his back while the other kneads at his nape. Opening your eyes, you see the same deer and doe on the other side of the lake, standing side by side peacefully with their reflections on the lake. The sounds of the night echo above the glimmering depths of the water. It all brings you hope despite the conversation, they won't find you, that's your hope. You get to stay here forever with him, that's your only wish in this world.

Amidst the swaying grass, and in his arms, you feel infinite. You finally feel like you exist with the gentle wind and the raging rivers. No more do you feel like you burn everyday, where there's ash in your mouth, embers hidden underneath your hands; living in a house built to be kindling in your all consuming flames of loneliness. Earthbound once more, alive again.

[starpros-sunshine]

filled with so much love for wataei rn oh god

[michelangelinden]

Let's talk about this gif too please

(gif from @madeline-kahn used with permission)

It's time for my favourite activity: analysing shit into Owen's acting

We start with Alex just contently listening to Willie talk. They're explaining something about the club, Alex listens.

Willie just turned to him, saying something while directly looking at Alex, and they do this little eyebrow flick thing, before turning aways. It's ✨flirty✨

And Alex face grows from 'hm, yes, important' to 'hmmm boy pretty' in like a second.

Like he gets this dumb little smile that tells us his brain completely shut off, he's just appreciating Willie's beauty, no think, words enter one side of his brain, leave the other.

He's 💕in love💕 your honour

[skyeventide]

Please, I would love to know your thoughts on Becket!

that was SO MUCH? loved it.

okay for one I actually loved that the nobles/the king are absolutely unashamedly awful, which may be a reaction to many situations where they're inexplicably enlightened and treat everyone well and are very "modern", this didn't do that, I liked it.

but really it's a movie about Henry II's psychosexual obsession with Becket and it's fantastic. the entire first double sequence, first with the peasant girl, then with Becket's lover Gwendolen, it's literally just Henry using these women as proxies so he can get to Thomas. absolutely no real interest or regard for them, to uncomfortable levels, except for the way they can give him access to Becket. and then flinging himself on Becket's bed and saying he doesn't want to be alone, after Gwendolen has killed herself? saying that he won't have access to Thomas' thoughts? it's so much.

this movie is not even remotely subtext, it's just plain text, within censorship restrictions. what really seals it is how Matilda calls Henry's "obsession" an "unnatural" thing. as far as wording goes, you cannot possibly make it any clearer for a 1964 movie.

speaking of, didn't love the way Empress Matilda and Eleanor of Aquitaine were depicted here — we know Henry valued Matilda's judgement a lot and overall loved his mother, and Eleanor was an incredible personality, whereas here she's written more like a petty and meddlesome/jealous wife with no great stature of character. other inaccuracies are like eh whatever (like Becket being a Saxon, which he wasn't), but those two I didn't like.

Peter O'Toole is an amazing Henry (and having just watched The Lion in Winter yesterday, he definitely nails it both times), it's just this sheer strength of personality, and though I had reservations about Becket's change of character, now that I think about it more I think it works. he shows concern about his honour and a certain hmmm merciful streak in his personality from the very start, and then Henry incidentally gives him the position and the environment where all his earlier doubts and traits can converge and create the Archbishop.

special mention goes to Henry getting lashed by Becket's tomb, and to Thomas dying, and therefore winning their little duel via his death, and still saying Henry's name as his last word. it's a hell of a movie.