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theunbearableweightofpedropascal · 1 year ago

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Kinktober entry #1

Pairing: Dark!Blaise Zambini x Hufflepuff!Reader

Kink: Monster F*cking

A/N: I think I'll do Roderick next. And let's pretend the wizarding war didn't happen yet, for the plot😁.

Warnings: p in v, oral sex, blood purist ideologies, somewhat obsessive behavior, possible dub-con.

Summary: Blaise takes after his mother much more than he cares to admit.

Word Count: 2k

It was well-known how convincing Blaise’s mother could be. One dead husband is unfortunate, two is a tragic coincidence, but three is a pattern. So far she had seven dead husbands and all their riches to show for it, and one would think that men would steer clear. But that is the weakness of men they just can’t resist a woman as beautiful as Madeline.

The truth about her deadly nature is that she is a descendant of a family full of Succubi. Each generation before her strangely only had daughters and thus their gifts were always passed down. Madeline was the first to have a baby boy, and as he grew older it was hard to tell if he inherited the gift.

At first, she watched his behavior like a hawk looking for the signs that her mother saw in her. Soon she realized that he was the first boy and there was a chance he’d manifest his powers differently. When it was time to send him to Hogwarts she was fairly confident that he didn’t take after her side.

Growing up Blaise had gotten used to men coming and going, and he never judged his mother for her unconventional lifestyle. But the older he got the more questions he had and it wasn’t like he could outright ask his mother. How does one go about asking why mommy’s husbands keep dying? So he did what he did best, watch.

He didn’t really remember the first three husbands because he didn’t feel the need to pay attention to them. However, the last four husbands he observed with a notebook. By the time their deaths happened it was almost like they just gave up, their vitality was sucked right out of them. On their wedding day, they would be full of life and joy but on their death bed they were pale with sunken cheeks. A fraction of who they once were.

Blaise is a smart boy, and while he completed his first year of studies at Hogwarts he looked up the type of creatures that could have such an effect. By the time he returned to his mother’s villa for summer in Italy, he knew exactly what she was. The question on his mind was if he too held that same kind of power.

In year four he started to see his effect on the girls around him. They would send love letters and cookies laced with love potions. He would throw them all out, not wanting to choose the wrong girl. He had no idea how to tell who the right girl would be but he was a patient person. By the time year 6 rolled around, he spent most of his time at Hogwarts observing the viable partners for him, eliminating muggle-borns and blood traitors. He wanted his bloodline to remain strong and carry the gifts of his lineage.

All his patience led him straight to you, a bright-eyed Hufflepuff that couldn’t possibly know what the touch of a man felt like. Blaise noticed you through the years, a teacher’s pet that was made into a prefect. So eager to please the professors, he couldn’t wait until he was on the receiving end. You would be pliable and unlike his mother, he would cherish you. He found that there was a balance in these types of relationships.

The moment he decided to pounce was when he went to the astronomy tower hoping for some alone time only to find you. There you sat peacefully with your notebook. Though he wouldn’t mind looking at you all night that’s all he had thus far.

“Great minds think alike.” His voice startled the silence you were enjoying. “I like to come up here for peace too.”

“Oh, I was just about to leave.” You stand and walk over to the stairs to give him space but he steps in front of you.

“That’s not necessary love.” Despite his reputation around school, you find his eyes inviting.

“What brought you up here?” Since it’s just the two of you there was no point sitting in silence.

“Trying to fend off some of my more belligerent suitors.” Blaise leaned against the railing and looked out at the expansive land surrounding Hogwarts.

“Must be hard having so many women falling at your feet.” The sarcasm that laces your voice brings a small smile to his face. He was going to enjoy you.

“Not when you don’t want to entertain any of them.” He grimaces as he thinks of some of the unwanted advances. As much as he appreciated the power his mother gifted him, it had its downsides.

“Ah, I forgot I was talking to a blood purist with high standards.” As alluring as you find him his ideologies bring you back to reality. You may not be muggle-born but you didn’t subscribe to blood hierarchy.

“What other people do is their business, but I prefer non-muggle-born witches.” Blaise feels you coming closer, unable to resist his charms.

“Except when those beliefs cause innocent deaths.” You turn to fully face him while you call out his nonchalant demeanor.

“I don’t agree with killing muggles if that’s what you’re implying,” His hand traces its way up your arm before lifting your chin. “I would simply have my wife bear as many pure-blooded children as possible.”

His words, as disgustingly purist as they are, cause your heart to speed up in excitement. The thought of carrying his children sounds appealing. Now all you can think about is him pumping his seed into until it takes. Your thighs rub together in an attempt to quell the pleasure his words give you. Almost as if you were under a spell you follow him as he guides you away from the railing and backs you into the wall.

“Are you gonna be my sweet little wife that takes every last drop I give you?” His low voice is in your ear while his hands travel all over your body. The rapid rise and fall of your chest makes it hard for you to speak so you nod your head eagerly at his question.

Blaise takes your answer as a promise and begins to kneel in front of your core. Even with him below you, he holds all the power. His hands travel up your skirt to gently pull down your panties as he makes eye contact with you. For the first time, you don’t find yourself wanting to break it.

He raises your skirt enough to put his head under it, as he kisses his way up your inner thighs he wraps your left leg over his shoulder. You almost jolt off the wall when his lips wrap around your clit and suck. The small moans that leave your mouth increase in volume when his tongue works in tandem with his lips.

With nothing to grab onto you throw your head back against the wall and let your arms run along the wood panel. The scratch marks that are bound to be left when he’s finished are no worry of yours. His tongue drags along your clit in the most delicious way that you can’t help when your hips begin to buck.

Blaise’s deep-seated hunger is insatiable upon hearing the sweet noises leaving your mouth. He revels in your hips bucking into his mouth demanding more, and he would give you anything. Your eyes roll back as the pressure that sits in your belly builds, your body has a mind of its own chasing after his mouth.

“Blaise,” you say his name like a prayer and he groans into your pussy sending your orgasm hurdling through you. The volume of your screams doesn’t matter, nothing except for his mouth coaxing you through the euphoric waves being sent through your body. Gently he places your leg back down on the ground but keeps a firm grip on your legs.

His captivating face was glistening from the moonlight that poured into the tower. As soon as he stood to his full height you wrapped your arms around his neck before planting your lips on his. The taste of you on his lips only spurred you on, a ravenous need for more enveloped you. He knew exactly what you needed and he had no problem obliging you.

The smacking of your lips working together causes you to almost miss the sound of his zipper and belt being undone. Sinful moans transfer from your mouth to his as he hoists you up against the wall, with your skirt bunched around your waist. His strength surprises you but you don't have much time to dwell when you feel him dragging himself between your lips.

“Please.” While begging for more your hands dig into Blaise’s shoulders.

“I knew you would be the one.” His confession is overshadowed by him finally slipping into you. He exhales a relieved groan the further he sinks himself in you. The way he stretches your walls little by little has you incoherently babbling nonsense. Blaise cradles his head in the curve of your neck as he rocks into you at an increasing pace. His rough hands grip your waist which is surely going to leave bruises tomorrow but you can’t find focus enough to care.

So many of the girls in your year talked about how their boyfriends couldn’t get them off. Not with fingers, mouth, or their dick. But Blaise is intoxicating and all you can think about is how his pelvis is rubbing your clit perfectly. You can feel him panting on your neck and you feel yourself clenching around him.

Unlike the first one your second orgasm doesn’t have a build-up, it blossoms after one of his deeper strokes. His hips lose their consistent speed and you know he’s close. When he spills his seed into you he keeps you in his arms, needing to make sure it took. You were so unaware you ended up falling asleep while you laid your head on his shoulder.

Blaise gave it five minutes before he finally put you down and put your panties back on you. Since he just fed off of you he had no doubt he would be able to apparate to your dorm. He was at an all-time high as he carefully placed you in bed. He found a clean washcloth and wiped you up as much as he could before tucking you in.

…….

In the dining hall, you sat in the Hufflepuff section waiting for your friends to join you. Waking up this morning was so peaceful, you slept like the dead. The nasty memories of last night had you smiling all through your beauty routine. You practically skipped to the dining room and gained some odd looks for your apparent happiness.

A hand wrapped around your waist before two legs were facing your side. Blaise swoops down beside you and kisses your cheek without hesitation. Words were halted at the display of affection, although Blaise had all the girls at Hogwarts swooning he never gave them the time of day.

“What are you doing?” You keep your eyes focused on him to avoid looking at the hundreds of eyes staring at you.

“I can’t look at my girlfriend?” His declaration of your relationship has your face burning. He can see the surprise on your face and tells you, “I thought I made my intentions with you clear last night.”

The devoted smile on your face as you look at him reassures him he chose the right girl.

When it’s time for you to come with him to his mother's estate in Italy she is surprised, but welcoming. She never thought Blaise would get into a relationship anytime soon. After talking with the two of you it was clear as day, that same smile was present on her previous husband’s faces. She wasn’t sure if she should be scared for you or thrilled for her son, but ultimately the excitement of the grandbaby clouded her vision.

#blaise zabini x female reader #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini imagine #harry potter #slytherin #slytherpuff #hufflepuff #monster #tw monsterfucking #monster fucker #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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away-ward · 4 months ago

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What do you think the dn couples are doing right now? Just a fun question😁

Oooooh. Fun!

Well, it's mid-summer, so just far enough from Devil's Night that they probably haven't started prepping. Emory turned 29 ten days ago, so maybe they're still recovering from that😉

I assume Damon and Em have their hands full, with plenty of summer projects to keep them busy. I wonder if the dojo would have a class for kids while they're out of school. Teach them discipline, give them some training. You know, all the fun stuff Kai's dad taught him. I can imagine Kai enjoys teaching middle school kids, though. I know the girls probably have a girl's only class for the high school and college crowds.

I would love for Thunder Bay to have a lot of summer carnivals and festivals, which Rika would either have a hand in approving or showing up for. The fun stuff to balance all the bureaucracy (I actually don't know what a mayor of a small town would do most of the time. . .)

However, as I was thinking about this, a realization struck me. If we're going by the timeline I proposed, then Fire Night and the epilogue take place in 2030/31, which means here in 2024 we're still six years away from that. If II, Jett, and Tavi are all five, they should be born next year (or this year, depending on birthdays and math that I'm not going to do). Which means. . . Winter, Nik, and/or Emory could be pregnant, or will soon become pregnant. Given the younger kid's close ages, it's probable that at one point, they were all pregnant at the same time. I'm sure that's going to be very exciting for them.

And that leaves Michael and Rika. We know they kept trying for children, but are happy with Athos. It did remind me of Corrupt, when Michael said he knew what Rika needed. Now that this has been out in the open for years, Michael might be more sensitive to Rika's needs. I think it would be nice for them to go on a little family vacation. A short one, but finding some time for them to focus on each other and Athos, and for Michael to specifically focus on Rika.

Winter has four boys, ages 2-5, or thereabouts. I'm sure she's loving pool time with them.

Mads would be about 5 or 6.

Indie's about 4, and if Finn is the middle child, she's about 1 year old, maybe almost 2.

Athos is about 12.

Thanks for the question! It was a lot of fun to think of what they'd be up to right now, where they're at in life. To think we're living at a time before their family grows again. A weird little peek into the time between.

I'd love to hear what other's think could be going on with them!!

#asked and answered #devil's night series #the horsemen of devil's night #the women of devil's night #summer of 2024

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saturrnss · 1 year ago

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—-HOBIE’S CANON EVENT (headcanon)—-

Warnings: violent death, daddy issues, mentions of police brutality and underaged drinking, mentions of police corruption

A/n: I’m pulling this straight out of my ass cheeks so do with that what you will. And also I know London banned guns but I’m the writer so I can do anything

😁

.hobie never likes to talk about his canon event, only Miguel and Gwen know about it, and he will literally kill anyone who tries to bring it up.

•••

Lieutenant James Campbell was the worst cop on the London police force.

He was mean, cruel and nasty.

So many innocent people went to jail for a long time because of him and so many abusers and Murderers got out because their lawyers paid him.

He didn’t care for any of the citizens, he was so bad that it was the start of hobie’s long term hatred for cops

But some how, someway. His father- Officer Daniel brown was friends with him.

“I’ve known him since kindergarten, he's not be that bad”

His father used to say whenever hobie tried to bring his cruelty up or make side eye him when he was around.

Hobie never understood it. “How could you let that pig around here!?” “Not even turn ‘em in?!” He thought to himself.

One day, a couple of months after he got bit, he got into an argument which he started after he cussed James out which made him storm off.

“I can believe you defend that fucking clown!!” He yelled. “Clam down“ his father softly but sternly replied with. “I’m not gonna calm down! You willingly jerk those guys off like they’re gonna see you any differently!’’

“I don’t know those people that you hang out with, but I can see the number they did on you” Daniel says, fixing his tie at the kitchen counter and putting his police hat on.

“Don’t bring them into this!’’ He said being even more enraged at the fact that he was basically being ignored.

His father stepped away from the counter and went toward the door of the apartment, but hobie still wasn’t gonna let it go.

“No wonder mom left you, I wouldn’t wanna be with such a cunt either.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“….what did you say?” Daniel said without moving a muscle.

And before hobie could repeat it again his father jumped at him from across the room, forcing him against the wall by his shirt.

“Speak on her again in that way! Speak!!!” He yelled right in his face, spit getting all over.

And for the first time, he didn’t comply.

He would never admit it, but that was the first time, in years, that he felt like he pushed-too far.

His father dropped him and walked away from him, sucking his anger back into him and straightening himself up.

The sheer fear, that hobie felt a few moments ago is a feeling that he would never feel again in his lifetime.

He dad takes a deep breath. “I never wanted to be a cop.” Hobie looks up, confused as to what his father was saying.

“When I was younger me and my mates used to get into a lot of trouble with them,” he says. "but as I grew up, I realized that making a difference isn't just running around, high and confused, it’s about working inside the system. It might not look like it but I have to be very, careful with the power I have now."

He gets his jacket. "One less racist cop at a time." he stops again. "I'm not mad at you, Hobart. You're a young black trying to figure it all out," "but there's just some ways you go about it."

He opens the door and looks back one final time.

"I love you."

Hobie doesn't say anything.

He tries to wait for a couple of seconds, hobie usually breaks the silence with a response but this time he doesn't.

".....I just hope you know that."

He leaves.

And hobie is left there, silent.

•••

Later that night, he got shit-faced with his mates Pic and Scabs at this random punk bar they found. The screeching sound of guitars and the audience screaming was so loud that you could barely hear yourself think.

The smell was awful too but you got used to it after a while.

He stumbled out of the place after a couple of hours and puked into the nearest trash can he could find. Everything was so fuzzy, the longest he could go walking in a straight line was a few seconds at most.

But then, while he was trying to find some essence of soberness, blinking red and blue emergency trucks dart passed him on the street- police cars follow.

He usually wouldn't care about things like that but something in his mind was telling him.

"Follow''

So he did.

Part of him still wishes he never listened.

He didn’t really need to run that far since the scene was happening a couple feet away from him. When he got there it was so many people in front of him but it didn’t bother him that much since he was tall as hell.

The body was already covered so he only saw the blood continuing to leak out of it but it was already enough to make his stomach drop.

Something about it was -off- to him, so he pushed through the crowd, and lifted the cover.

And there it was.

His dad laying face first on the ground, multiple stab wounds to his head, brain matter splattered. Hobie was frozen, his face was like stone, he tried to hold back his tears but before he knew it they were filling his eyes and rolling down his cheeks, making his vision blurry even more-so.

“Sir.” A random policeman says, he doesn’t hear. “Sir,” he snaps his fingers in hobie’s face, this time the punk notices him but he just doesn’t care.

“Sir I’m gonna have to ask you to leav-“ the officer says and starts to put his hand on hobie’s shoulder but he instinctively pushes him away. Sooner or later more cops circle around him as he refuses to move away from the body. But before a fight could break out, voice comes out from behind them.

“He’s with me.” The officers stop and stand up straight to hobie’s confusion. He turned around to see the devil himself- lieutenant James, in all his prick-ish glory.

“I think you all should leave.” He says, forcing the officers to leave you alone, still side eyeing the punk while walking away.

For a short while there was silence, just a moment of taking in what was now reality, then James decided to break the ice. “..Sorry..son” he puts his hand on his back which makes both of them cringe to the heaviest degree.

They watch the paramedics put his body on a stretcher and lift him up onto the back of the ambulance but even that wasn’t an emotional moment due to thick air of tension created.

He runs off to get inside the vehicle before they close the door, escaping the awkwardness and into an equally dreadful but weirdly calming environment.

The ride to the hospital felt like an eternity, all he could do was hold his dad’s hand, watching the paramedics trying to save a lost cause.

They got to the Emergency room and rolled the officer away, leaving hobie there, alone, with only himself to comfort.

Later, while hobie was sitting in a waiting chair, trying to distract himself with whatever crappy American sitcom they aired on late night television, a doctor in a long white coat and round glasses approached him.

“You must be Officer Brown’s son.” The doctor says “what of it?” Hobie tries to say in his usual dismissive tone but this time, he can’t bring himself to commit fully.

“…..he was too far gone.” Hobie closes his eyes and sighs, he thought he mentally prepared for it but hearing someone say it was like it cemented itself into reality.

“If you would like,” the doctor said with pity in their voice. “You could come to the room to have one last moment with him.” He hesitated at first but then picked himself up walked to the room with the doctor.

When he entered the room it was a cold and sterile atmosphere, felt like one of those liminal spaces. The colors of the room were almost sickly, everything about it wasn’t right, the only thing that grounded it in reality was the body laying flat in the middle of the room.

The doctor quietly excused themself out of the room and shut the door. Hobie walked to the side of the body and practically just dropped on his father- and cried.

Cried hard. It almost felt like he was a 5 year old again, sitting on his dad’s lap wailing because he broke his arm, but this time he doesn’t feel a warm embrace, the reassurance and comfort of a parental figure.

All he feels is just a cold hand. Lifelessness.

No one to tell him it was gonna be all okay.

Nothing was there anymore.

He barley even remembers the funeral, all he can recount is James, his supposed “best friend” looking bored and laughing up a storm with people.

The case for his dad closed after about 3 months no matter how hard Hobie fought for it to say open.

He couldn’t keep up with rent so he got evicted.

The only option was to stay with his absent mom or James, and no way in hell was that happening.

He found an abandoned warehouse and decorated it to his liking. It’s not like he was depressed or anything but everything just went- numb for a little while.

On rare occasions he felt emotion, but it went away after a few seconds.

Life felt more like a really bad fever dream now.

If you could even call it a dream.

•••

Months after that, he was sleeping on a friend’s couch when the friend, Rob frantically woke him.

“Wake the fuck up Hobbs!!” Rob quietly yells in a panic. “What?!” He says, sitting up dazed. Rob paces back and forth.

"Scabs got merked!!" hobie's mind didn't register it at first. “…huh?" “Scab’s is dead mate!” It still doesn’t compute. “….what?” He says in an uncharacteristically dumbfounded tone. “Do I have to spell it out for you dumbass he is not with us anymore!!”

Then when it finally clicks, the only words he can muster out is

“....who killed him?" he asks but Rob didn't hear it, still pacing and talking to himself. It took hobie to get up and grab Rob by his jacket for him to finally get a straight answer."

"Who. Killed. Him?" He says slowly. "That cunt lieutenant said he had drugs on him when he doesn't even drink. One thing lead to another and he got shot."

His face drops.

At first, he was even more lost, and confused. He sat back down and put his hand into his palms. Then, it was like someone poured boiling water one him to wake up.

For the first time, in a long time, an emotion finally stuck with him.

Rage.

Blind. Rage.

He quickly went to get his guitar and his suit and quickly went toward the door. “Where yo-” hobie had already shut the door before his friend could finish the question.

He changed on the rooftop of the building and swung into the night.

He didn’t even know where that cunt was, all he knew was that he had to do something. Something that would make him feel the pain and numbness that he felt.

And the only way he knew how to do that was by Revenge.

He finally got to the lieutenant’s house- a modest, 2-bedroom house. He didn't have any children, he got divorced rather quickly before he could.

He got in through the window. It was pitch black and he couldn't feel anyone in the house so he walked up to the front door and waited.

He saw certificates and police gear all over the wall along with pictures of him on duty and all he could feel was disgust.

He could feel the sweat dripping down his face in his mask, palms sore from holding the guitar. His suit only made him feel claustrophobic but he didn’t care.

He heard a car pull up. His eyes immediately shot to the window, seeing a black Volkswagen Beetle parked in the driveway. He looks straight at the door, feeling him get out of the car and inch closer and closer to the door.

His heart was beating through his chest and was mentally psyching himself up. The sound of keys jingling just outside the door made him close his eyes.

“Once I deal with him,” he thought. “It will be all over with.”

The doorknob turned and he saw him. From that point on, It was like an out-of-body experience. He didn’t feel like himself- Something came over him.

Maybe it was a greater force than himself, maybe it was all the grief he somehow suppressed it was a mystery.

He doesn’t remember much of the fight, only the fact that James had a broken nose and was losing severely. But when he “got back” to his body, the scene was a horror show.

Blood was all over him, his guitar was broken and James' head looked like it had been split in two. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together.

It was so bad that two teeth were stuck in the bottom of his guitar. He quickly left the scene after he heard a car coming. He got on the roof of Rob’s flat and hid his blood soaked suit and guitar.

He knew he couldn’t leave it there for long or else it would stain. He opened the door to the apartment and immediately went to take a shower, and to be honest, he felt immensely better.

He was mostly glad that nobody would be bothered by him anymore, that there was one less burden on earth, but he couldn’t brush off the fact that something was watching him- Something familiar.

It was the most publicized murder case in the city. The brutality of it all intrigued people the most. “What could have the heroic police officer James Campbell, done to have deserved this fate?”

It made him sick, the blatant rewriting of history. Especially the fact that the authority force had so much more emotion for him than his dad.

That’s when he got his blue latter laces. His friends and the rest of the scene noticed but didn’t say anything nor cared. He got investigated for a bit but due to lack of evidence he was let go.

He took a break from being spider-man for a while, opting to spend time with his friends and to sort of heal. He cleaned his suit and fixed his guitar, trying to live a normal life after what he did.

He still gets night terrors once in a while, it gets mixed in with dreams of his dad. He makes jokes about his laces, smiling at Miles’s dad when he catches him staring at his shoes.

Definitely doesn't feel bad about that son of a bitches death, doesn't have a reason to care anyway. But there's still a pinch of- guilt in the back of his mind.

Festering. If he didn't say what he said, if he just caved in and told him that he loved him. Then he would still be alive.

A/N: idk y'all I'm not feeling this one 😔 also hey y'all

Wattpad: sevenstarcigs

Tiktok: sevenstarwp

#marvel #mcu #marvel headcanons #spiderverse spoilers #into the spider verse #hobie brown #hobie my beloved #hobie headcanons #spider punk #atsv hobie #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #oneshot #one shot #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman: across the spiderverse

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loosingmoreletters · 1 year ago

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Oh, I follow that enchanted tulle author on AO3 and so far she/he only writes very few stories, but boy, does she/he love politics so much.

I always find authors who write heavy stuff are awesome because it's a difficult topic to write. I mostly read fluff stories because I think my boys Wangxian need some fluffy moments after the whole chaos in their lives.

Do you like fluffy stories even though LWJ isn't mean there? I can recommend some, but well, they are very fluffy, all happy, no angst 😁

I do read fluff! Also I'm a sucker for happy endings. Very rarely do I enjoy a fic with a bad end - I need that catharsis of everything being resolved. I don't actually read much dark fic in this fandom because my flavor of dark fic isn't particularly catered to.

Not ranked in any way, and absolutely not all my favorites, just those I tagged good enough in my 10k bookmarks to find, but some of my favorite fics are there! (Most are finished, those that aren't can be safely said to have been among my favorites from the first paragraph on.)

愈; to heal by ravenditefairylights

Wei Wuxian has missed the sword. He has missed the steady weight of Suibian in his vicinity, has missed being sure of himself without needing to defend his ability in front of a world that stands opposite of him as jury, judge and executioner. Wei Wuxian has risen and fallen and then gotten up every time, fallen deeper still until there was no way for him to get back up. Wei Wuxian has died and he has come back thirteen years too late and the world has moved on without him. Back to the start—it’s a good place for the beginning. or the one where Wei Wuxian heals, realizes there are people who love him and people he loves and goes back home

I'll buy you the moon (I'll buy you two) by Thesaurus_with_no_words

It's been three days since Wei Wuxian last ate. "Hungry," A-Yuan whines, pulling at his hand. Wei Wuxian tries to focus on the vegetable display in front of him. He's got 10 credits left on the last safe account he's got access to. Half a kilo of wilted vegetables, the cheapest thing in the store, costs 15. The potatoes are sprouted. Half of Wei Wuxian's sluggish mind wonders if that means he can bargain down the prize, while the other half is screaming that something is very wrong. They have been planet-side for around 36 hours and so far nothing adds up. Blinking slowly, Wei Wuxian stares at the potatoes. The green sprouts seem to taunt him. Suddenly he remembers that Shanxu, the planet they are supposed to be on, has a current ban on potatoes, due to some aggressive and rapidly mutating form of crop blight. "Fuck," Wei Wuxian hisses. Where the are they? What planet is this!?

Welcome to the Great Gusu Bake Off! by BlackWiresOnHerHead

Several months ago, college student Wei Wuxian secretly competed in the most popular reality show in the country. The show starts airing in the fall. The freshmen in his dorm collectively lose their minds.

A Thousand Things by tickertape

Wei Ying can’t find his words. “What would I do in Gusu?” The man’s mouth quirks in what Wei Ying cannot interpret as anything but a tiny, smug smirk. “Learn.” Wei Ying has made a fine life for himself. He’s got his jiejies and his talismans; he doesn’t need anyone’s charity. But spending a whole year in Gusu? That’s hard to turn down.

The Best I Can by Zephyr (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish)

‘Have you heard? Hanguang-jun cut ties with the Lan Sect. Stole a child and ran off into the night.’ In which Wei Wuxian is horribly confused by the world he comes back to and can’t help but be drawn to Lan Wangji once more. Lan Jingyi, for his part, is deeply disappointed by the world he grew up in and just wants to see his best friend again.

Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy

Lan Zhan’s new liaison at the Caiyi Municipal Cultivation Department is an enigma – ridiculously talented, yet somehow content with mopping up spiritual pests for barely above minimum wage. Wei Ying is slapdash and irresponsible, and Lan Zhan doesn’t like him at all… but then he meets A-Yuan, who loves music and longs for a piano his father can’t afford. Forced into cautious friendship by a four-year-old's music lessons, Lan Zhan soon realises Wei Ying is more than he seems. The single father is a man of many secrets – including, perhaps, the key to Lan Zhan's life's work. And in the meantime, the background resentment in Caiyi Town is rising to dangerous levels…

The One-Body Problem by metisket

The good news is that Lan Jingyi has found a mentor, friend, and constant companion through the difficulties in life. The bad news is that that’s because he’s been accidentally possessed by the Yiling Patriarch.

Howling by MimiSpearmint

“Sizhui, go to the kitchen,” the Yiling Patriarch orders. His charge – Sizhui, Lan Wangji presumes – hesitates but obeys, looking back over his shoulder as he disappears. Apprentice out of the blast zone, the Patriarch storms up to Lan Wangji, eyes flashing red. “Three words: I. Am. Retired.” Lan Wangji is sent by the Institute to do two things: become the Yiling Patriarch's familiar, and report back his every movement. It does not go how any of them planned.

kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool

The young man blinks at him. Wei Yuan doesn’t spend much time staring at his own face in the mirror, but he knows his reflection well enough; the dark eyes, the straight nose, the round face that comes to a pointed chin. This boy could be his exact double. “Who are you?” the Lan boy facing him asks, tilting his head. He’s got a hand on his sword, but he hasn’t drawn it yet. There’s a faint frown on his face. “Some kind of face-stealing spirit? A demon?” “Pretty rude to go around calling people demons,” Wei Yuan protests. -- Or, Wei Wuxian, presumed dead by the cultivation world, raises one Wen twin. Lan Wangji, presumed dead by Wei Wuxian, raises the other. A Parent Trap AU.

By Any Other Name by ShanaStoryteller

Wei Wuxian wakes up in Mo Xuanyu's body and heads straight for Lotus Pier. Wu Yingtai is the newest member of the Jiang Clan and rumored to be the future wife of Jiang Wanyin. Lan Wangji is not in love with her.

Everyanything by deliciousblizzardshark, lingeringdust

“I was going to do it! I had Wei Wuxian’s soul and his ritual and I was going to cast it, but I found my poor sister sobbing in the hallway, driven half-mad by our gege and I knew she needed the curse more than I did.” He grinned, slyly, underneath his thick layers of paint. “I knew she wanted to kill the same person I did. So I gave it to her; the soul, the ritual. As long as she promised to get revenge for me as well!” or Wei Wuxian is brought back from death into the body of Qin Su.

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva

“Of all the rotten luck I could have!” Outside, in between the gentle embrace of an imposing misty mountain and the caress of soft wind, stood the Cloud Recesses. It wasn’t a section that Wei Wuxian had recognized from his time in the sect, but the motifs of clouds and cranes in the buildings, the impeccable feng shui and carefully manicured paths, and the utter silence as the sect members slept peacefully, all burned themselves into Wei Wuxian’s eyes. No wonder the curtains were so firmly nailed to the walls! Any bit of demonic energy escaping the room could call down a veritable army of righteous cultivators! What sort of person in their right mind would dare to summon a spirit into their own body using resentful energy in the Cloud Recesses of all places? What kind of person would scoff so rudely at the Lan Clans most important rule, ‘Do not fraternize with evil?’ After being dead for four years, Wei Wuxian wakes up in a body he doesn't really feel comfortable with, in a place that he's sure wants him dead, and married to a man who surely hates him.

Words are Gonna Bleed from Me by GravityWinsAgain

"Yiling Laozu, GusuLan Triad requests your services." At this, Wei Wuxian laughs and a thousand ghosts laugh with him. ~Or: Wei Wuxian died and Yiling Laozu rose in his place. He has avoided the Triad societies he grew up around, maintaining his anonymity and forging a new cultivation path. Now, thirteen years later, Hanguang-jun walks into Demon-Subdue Hall and requests Yiling Laozu's services for GusuLan Triad. Something is stirring in the world. Something that necessitates his return to a life and to people he’s long since mourned as lost to him.

Going on charmingly by scribbet

He pulled the door open smoothly, leaving the noisemaker with their fist still raised mid-knock. He could glimpse white robes underneath a thick and practical-looking travel cloak, but surely no member of his sect would think to barge in upon him in such a way. “Hello!” the interloper exclaimed, a bright smile coming into view as he lifted the sopping veils away to one side. “Would you happen to know how to reach the Cloud Recesses?” Or, a teenage Wei Wuxian arrives at the Lan sect as a (mostly) respected disciple of the Immortal Baoshan Sanren instead of the well-known troublemaker of Yunmeng Jiang. Lan Wangji learns to come to terms with this (eventually).

the problem with authority by isabilightwood

When Qin Su learns the truth about Jin Guangyao after the death of her son, she sacrifice summons Jiang Yanli. It goes slightly sideways. Jiang Yanli isn’t exactly one for revenge. But she does want her brother back, and the cultivation world could do with a bit of fixing. A resurrected Wei Wuxian is all too happy to help. But taking down Jin Guangyao would be easier if Lan Wangji stopped accidentally getting in the way.

Everything That Could Have Been by QueenXIV

Thirteen years of nothing were a long time, but for Wei Wuxian it had been literally nothing. One day he was filled with resentful energy, completely under the influence of the Yin Tiger Seal, and the next one he was waking up in a stranger’s body, confused, weak and being asked for revenge. Wei Wuxian then finds himself back in Cloud Recesses after encountering Lan Xichen and ends up becoming a caregiver for Lan Wangji, who is paying the price of everything Wei Wuxian did in his past life.

梅花/plum blossoms by bunnxianluvsu (MooseFeels), MooseFeels

Lan Wangji has been chief cultivator for many years when he is given a gift.

Fentao-laoshi's Guide to Cut-Sleeve Pleasures by occultings (microcomets)

Lan Wangji says, “I am also looking to . . . gain practical experience. It seemed mutually advantageous.” “Mutually advantageous,” Wei Wuxian echoes. “Wait. Do you mean I’d get to . . . ?” Lan Wangji stares at him. “Practice — on you?” Wei Wuxian finishes, his eyes round with disbelief. — During a shared summer studying in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian diligently pursue an informed sexual education. What could possibly be the harm in some mutual learning?

In Imitation of Life by travelingneuritis

Lan Zhan stops in front of one of the bespoke duplicates— a male figure, small, creamy-skinned and lithe. The name on the plinth reads Mo Xuanyu. Lan Zhan tested it on his first pass through the room. The doll was empty. No signals bouncing around its artificial brain, no operating programs queued to autostart. Not even a blinking dormancy light. "Hey big guy," says Mo Xuanyu, chrome eyes sparkling with fun. "Who do I gotta fuck around here to get unplugged?" Wei Ying is a rogue AI come to life. Lan Zhan is… handling it.

The Blacksmith of Yiling by Aki_no_hikari

Wei Ying escapes his first winter in the streets by following the light and warmth of a forge. There he finds refuge, for himself, and others as well.

i’ll take a secondhand monster by Stratisphyre

“You must not stray to the lower levels, A-Yu,” Yao-ge told him with his scary, empty smile. “Or else I shall tell the beast down there to eat you.” There is a monster in Koi Tower.

The True Story of How Concubine Mo Seduced the Crown Prince by Enigmatree

(Spoiler: not a speck of seduction was involved. The Crown Prince to the Empire came fully seduced long before Concubine Mo was even called Mo Xuanyu, not that anybody else needs to know that.)

Give You What You Like by Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle)

Wen Chao's dungeons are warm and comfy. Especially when there's two of you. (Or: what if Wen Chao had been a slightly more competent - or perhaps slightly luckier - villain?)

Teach Me The Ways by likeafox

Rogue Cultivator Wei Wuxian is the stuff of local legends. Some of those legends are even true! The ones about his tremendous experience in bed, on the other hand, are not so true. Which becomes a problem when Lan Wangji, on the verge of an arranged marriage and worried he won’t know how to please his future spouse, enlists Wei Ying's help to teach him the art of love-making. Wei Ying's great at improvisation, though, and is pretty sure he's got this sex mentor thing under control. What could possibly go wrong?

Crossed Wires by stardust_and_sunlight

“My laptop is cursed,” Lan Wangji said, stepping forward to place his bag on the counter and pull his laptop out. “My brother said you deal with that.” “Wei Ying!” the man called. “A curse for you!” [Lan Wangji's laptop is cursed, and he meets Wei Wuxian, expert in cursed technology.]

River-to-the-Sea Sure by Deastar

Wen guards escort Lan Wangji to his quarters at the end of the day’s indoctrination; this evening, Wei Wuxian follows, branching off at the last moment from the path to the building in which the Jiang disciples are lodged. “We’re all prisoners here either way,” he argues to the guards, with a disarming smile. “What does it matter which building I’m imprisoned in, eh?” After the guards slam the doors in Wei Wuxian’s face, the two of them are alone. Wei Wuxian folds down to sit, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. “Lan Zhan,” he says lightly. “What do you think Wen Chao and his henchmen would do, if I went into heat here?”

#mdzs #wangxian #fanfic recs #ask #anon

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livlepretre · 7 months ago

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yYou updated at the perfect time for me. I’m on the last day of my vacation, so I’m tanning on the mediterranean beach, sipping sangria and devouring every single word of this chapter - what a sweet way end to my holiday!

The last update gave me such a sad feeling for elena, even though you said she is actually happy. Now that she's decided to ignore Stefan and not allow him to impact her, to take charge of her relationship with Bex and get a sense of control over their relationship (I LOVE that Rebekah lets her, I think she can tell that she needs it), and, of course, to form a new bond with Kol, I can truly feel her happiness. My jaw was on the floor when she confided in Kol about her feelings about the daggering. She hadn't even discussed it with Rebecca to this degree, so I can only imagine how relieved she must feel now that she's spoken up and that Kol has genuinely understood and offered unspoken support.

Of couse my favorite thing about this chapter is Klaus’s misery which is bringing him closer and closer to his breaking point. Him yearning for her, regretting his past decisions and being in pain always puts a smile on my face. My favorite scene by far was him having to sit next to her while she was genuinely enjoying her time and he was just NOT.

I havent seen this mentioned in any comment: I feel like Stefan is actually going off the rails, like what the actual fuck???? was it him alone that killed that entire club?

My theory is that Kol is there to find a way to kill Klaus, as that was his agenda 100 years ago which got him daggered (what else would he be doing in nola anyways??). Rebekah is helping him because she knows she can’t actually be free from Klaus and can’t freely pursue her relationship with Elena (she wants to turn her but klaus is so against it and I feel like Rebekah secretly chooses Elena over Klaus. She chose Stefan over Klaus back in the days in Chicago. OMG maybe that’s what she means by the nostalgia of a farewell???)

Fuck this was such a great chapter I will definitely write more about it once i sober up and reread it lol

Also I wanted to ask you, do you prefer getting comments/asks here on tumblr or on ao3? I will adapt to your preference for future chapters😁

PS im getting progressively drunker as I’m writing this so it might not even make sense fuck me I hope you got the gist of what im rambling about💕😘

ugh, tanning on the Mediterranean beach, YOU ARE TRULY LIVING

going to admit that I was shrieking my way through this comment, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts on this chapter with me 💖

I think Elena needed to just draw some boundaries-- she's done it with Stefan, she's done it with Rebekah, and she's even managed it with Klaus (which: that is HARD work)

I think she was probably able to talk to Kol a little better because they're sort of intimate strangers-- they have the same people in common, she has read and admired his work-- but she doesn't really know him, and so there's no baggage there-- no fear of rejection, really, or of being honest-- because really, what are the stakes? and he catches her at just the right moment, in just the right mood, to want to share that with him

SUCH a great point though, that these are feelings that she has kept so closely locked up inside of herself that she doesn't share them with anyone-- and maybe she managed to share them better with Kol BECAUSE he would have used the gold dagger himself-- because he had that same capability to slay Klaus, someone he loves (even if it's very complicated)

I realized while editing this chapter that it takes forever for Klaus to even have a speaking line, but BOY does that silent smothering agony during the play speak volumes about his state

oh, our boy Stefan is going as far off the rails as it is possible to go

I think actually Elena was the last thing keeping him going and now that she's decided she's done, he's gone, he's speeding downhill on fire and just gathering speed, and there is no one at all who is going to stop his fall. it's actually terrible timing for him that Kol is here now, because Kol is just going to find things to add fuel to the fire and enjoy warming his hands by it-- being an Original, I think Kol is a bit more impervious to the downsides of being a ripper (ummm insanity? but I guess all of the Originals suffer from this anyway?)

As for the club, Rebekah and Klaus ended up killing some folks, but only Stefan was feasting; I think Rebekah and Klaus were doing damage control

Fascinated by your theory as to what Kol is doing here, and just, everything you said. I will neither confirm nor deny-- but leave it to the upcoming chapters to reveal all! Absolutely SCREAMING though that you are still percolating over the nostalgia of a farewell line!

and I am thrilled to get any comments at all, ao3 vs tumblr is really up to you!

xoxo thank you so much for this comment!! hope the remainder of your vacation was GREAT!

#asks #fairytale ending

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ian-galagher · 2 years ago

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WIPs I hope to finish one day 😭

Africa

When Ian lands himself an internship with famous wildlife photographer Mickey Milkovich he can't believe his luck. Spending one month traveling through South Africa with his big hero is a dream come true. The two are off on a wild adventure but there's something mysterious about Mickey who seems to be holding more to his chest than just the tricks of the trade Ian had hoped to learn from him.

Stolen Goods

From the outside Ian and Mickey seem like two ordinary guys. Ian works at an animal shelter while Mickey runs a garage. At least, that's what they tell anyone who asks. Ian's shelter doubles as a front for his side business, selling the priceless artifacts of the museums he robs blind to the highest bidder or the country they came from.

Meanwhile Mickey fixes up cars that have clearly been stolen, no questions asked. Below the counter he deals in green card marriages and weapons. Both men lead dangerous lives. To blow off steam they meet every Sunday night at Roxy's for a casual hook up, only to find that their lives are far more intertwined than they possibly could've imagined.

You Can't Let Your Guard Down

Ian broke up with Ned weeks ago but to his annoyance he keeps showing up at his doorstep, begging for Ian to give him another chance. Fed up, Ian finds himself a bodyguard in the shape of Mickey Milkovich, hired around the clock to protect him. Neither of them realizes how their lives are forever changed by that one decision.

The Devon Creature

It storms when Ian boards the ship that is supposed to sail him out and away from his hometown in Devon, England in 1852. As the ship sinks to the depths of the ocean, and the crew drowns around him, the Merfolk come out to scavenge for the goods they carried on board. It's then Ian looks into cold blue eyes and pleads for his life.

I might never finish these but boy do I love them! I started writing them a year ago, December 2021, and have rough drafts of all four but actually perfecting and finishing them?! Impossible! If I could just get a few years off from literally every other task ever, I'd be perfectly happy spending every waking hour working on them!

I'm hoping to start posting Africa in May though! 😁🤞 MY BETA SAID NOW SO IM GONNA POST IT SOON 😭

#im srsly so excited about all of these you have no idea #shameless #gallavich #fic #WIP #africa #me: please finish a WIP before starting a new one #also me: no #or maybe i just like making banners lol #i know the 3rd one might seem weird as fuck but nothing bad happens in it i promise #i just needed a reason for ian and mickey to be together around the clock #it's actually the funniest one of the four lol #imagine dragging your cranky security guard with you everywhere you go #including work and when you go dancing afterwards #your guard watching you like a hawk #slowly falling in love with you #the 2nd one is so dear to me and so damn heartbreaking #but africa is where i go to when i want to escape everything else #and the 4th is just an excuse to write about england in 1852 lol

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2ubb · 5 months ago

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Notes while reading 😁 (hope you don’t mind):

They are so down bad for each other

Yuriiiii , I love that Finn, Yuri and Nellie are here too

“Yuri would be friends with Hobie, you think, maybe in another life.” Hehehe I know what you talking bout

“It's similar to the one I gave to him, you'd be matching.” Ah! Cuteeee

Live laugh love Yuri

“A song that you've written yourself for the man who watches your back.” Awwwwww, so cute

“Rusty my arse.” Hahahahha

“A fucking duel? Are you crazy?” He mad, not doubting of his abilities but it seams he wants to die

Never doubt

“from whatever they've thrown at you. “ thrown?! Imma kill those bitches that did that to her! Nobody throws stuff at my baby R!

“I won't follow! I'm tired, Mr. Brown. I don't want to do this no more.” I don’t know if Cluver is for real or not but I know he has to fucking go and leave them alone

“Can't you pick another horse that doesn't cost three horses combined?” Hahhaha, no you heard Yuri /jk

“But he'll spend a million for you if you ask.” Owwwww what a softy

“because friendship means that he still cares for you, that there's still a space for you in his heart no matter how small it is, that you're not forgotten.” Honey baby, you are far from having just a small space in his heart

Lmfaoooo the ‘hat rule’

“One, tell you that you've only robbed him of his heart. And two, make a joke about how much Bucky disdained carrying you with your musty clothes. So he does neither. “ Boy should’ve said one

“Breaths mixing in together, but you still give him enough space to move away. He doesn't. You don't mention it. He thinks about your lips upon his.” aaaaaaaaaa why they just don’t kiss?? Damn you slow burn

“Hobie inhales and drinks you in— he still loves you. It's always been there, his love for you” I KNEW IT! “but he refuses to acknowledge it with what he knows just before he left,” what he knows??

“Hobie still dreams of you, still dreams of saying those three words again, he's a fool to bury the feeling” damn right he is, what cutie

“Hobie's been silent and you have no idea why.” Bipolarity /jk

“Cherry.” You suddenly break the silence. “I think I'll name her cherry.” This made me think of ttn

There’s lack of communication here, why they just don’t runaway together, can’t Hobie realize it’s not good for her to come back ?? 😭😭😭 And also what happened there???? Either way I just loved the chapter

Where the River Flows

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 7.4k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW food mentions, TW Blood and violence, TW death, CW injury, CW guns, CW alcohol. Old west AU, cowboy AU

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 4 >>> CHAPTER 5

You haven't slept this well in years, the last time you had was back when you've last slept next to him on the same lumpy mattress of his flat that you've once called home. Your eyes blink awake, cheek pressed against a pillow, it's soft, so soft that for a second you thought it was Hobie's arm. You stare at the ceiling, a carved magnolia tree stares back. Its branches are full of blossoms, perfectly carved just like the illustrations in your books. It's so vivid that you could practically see its pinkish hue. It's weird, you think, the carving, when the rest of the room is sparsely decorated; filled with drab oak, and cheap lamps. The room smells old, lived in by hundreds of travelers before you.

A creak echoes out at the far end of the bed, prompting you to look upon Hobie's bareback. Healed bullet wounds litter all over his flesh that you once held on. Raised scars dotted along his lower back like stars, stars that were once drenched in ruby. You wonder if it still hurts, the stars, like how the hole he left in your heart five years ago. You hope it doesn't hurt as much for him, you'll never wish agony upon him; even if a part of you thinks he deserves it.

Maybe you should tell him, tell him what agony has befallen you since he left. The pile of letters sewn into your skirt remains to be read by his viridescent eyes; its wax seal remains closed, the words of longing and hate are still scribbled upon the yellowed paper.

Your eyes dart along the expanse of his skin, frown getting deeper and deeper with every new scar you find. Hobie puts on his shirt, buttoning each one, the cloth hiding his own misfortune from your weary eyes.

“You talk in your sleep.” He finally breaks his silence. Looking over his shoulder, he regrets it immediately. The simple sight of your bed head and puffy eyes brings back memories of when you'd wake up next to him.

“I know,” I've been told. You grunt as you lift yourself off the pillow, elbow propping you whilst you watch him put on his cowboy boots and clinking spurs.

He blinks, hand pausing along the buckles. “It's new, you've never done that before.”

“Just like you said, a lot of things can change in five years.” Sitting up, you place your chin atop your knees, legs tucked under the covers, arms holding your legs in place. “What was I saying? In my sleep, I mean.”

“You were mumbling…” my name, he sighs at the thought of telling you the truth. “Someone's name I think, and egg soup for some reason.”

“I'm hungry.” You ignore whose name you might've been saying in your sleep. And you think it's not his.

“We need new clothes first, people must've gotten our descriptions by now. So we need to change.” Hobie puts on his leather vest, the metals of it clinking against one another. Then the hat comes after, he stands up, walking towards his gun belt.

“Okay, breakfast after?” You fight a yawn, palms rubbing harshly on your eyelids.

“Yes, breakfast after.” He secures his belt on his hip, silver guns shining in the early morning sun. “I don't think they have egg soup though.”

You crack a small smile. “It doesn't matter, anything will do.”

“The saloon has pumpkin soup I think, does that sound good?” Hobie has no idea why he's prolonging the conversation about soup out of all the things he could discuss with you.

You nod, staring at him through fond eyes. “Mm-hmm, sounds good.”

“Good, we need something warm to eat.” He realizes that he's been standing awkwardly at the doorway. Clearing his throat, you fight a smile. “Get dressed.” With the door shutting close behind him, he slaps his cheeks to wake himself. He needs coffee, or something stronger for that matter.

Meanwhile, you watch the space he just left with hope in your heart.

—

The dress shop smells nicer than the inn, it's elegant, looking like it doesn't belong in the middle of the dingy town. Every pile of clothing is neatly folded over the other, different outfits are displayed over the windows and display cases. Both leather and cotton are the most prominent ones, but there are a few chiffon dresses, lace and silks placed alongside the rougher fabrics. They're all wonderfully made, each having their own brand of beauty in every stitch.

You watch yourself in the floor length mirror. Dark trousers instead of a skirt hangs around your waist. A nice crisp white dress shirt on your torso fits perfectly on you thanks to the friendly tailor.

“You need a vest, or you'll get cold during your travels.” She taps your shoulder, genuinely smiling at you through the mirror. “Are you sure you don't want to wear a corset and skirt? You'd look just as marvellous.” Her eyes shine just like the dainty rings around her fingers.

“I'm sure, skirts and corsets are an inconvenience.”

“Well, you've given me a proper challenge then. But is it a challenge if everything looks good on you?” Her long dark hair sways behind her as she peruses her own shop, dozens of embroidered cloth folded neatly on tables.

“You're good,” you watch her sashay along her shop, colourful vests piled on her arm. “Just as good as the tailors back at home.”

Yuri, you learned her name just a few minutes ago, returns to you with her arm full of vests. “‘Just as good?’ oh sweetheart, I'm better.” She grins mischievously at you, red lips curled into a smug smile. Yuri would be friends with Hobie, you think, maybe in another life. “Arms up, my darling.” She holds up numerous different vests upon your body until she settles for a royal blue leather vest that has hydrangeas embroidered on it. “This is it!” Gasping excitedly, you let her help put the vest on. “Fucking beautiful! If I was your husband I'd be jumping your bones.” Grasping your shoulders, she places her chin atop it, smiling at you.

Your heart thumps loudly at the word ‘husband.’ “Thank you, Yuri.” You fiddle with the empty gun belt around your hips.

“Now for a coat or a jacket befitting a glorious woman like yourself.” She winks, twisting around in search of another dozen or so outerwear in her stock.

“Oh I think this is enough.” You don't want to use up all of Hobie's money, especially when he's still in the dressing room, none the wiser.

Yuri turns towards you abruptly, hand on her chest, feigning hurt. “Enough? Do you like prancing around town in your birthday suit?”

“No—”

“Then you shall have a jacket. The best one I've got.”

You bite your lip, a nervous tick of yours that Hobie once pointed out after kissing it off you. “I just don't want to spend too much.”

“You mean you don't want him to spend too much?” Yuri saunters over to you, boots clacking on the worn out floorboards. “What are husbands good for if not for spending their money for your own gain, hmm?” There it is again, your heart thundering loudly inside your chest. “Besides, you'd look marvelous in this coat. I'll give you a discount because you're the nicest customer I've had in years.” She leans closer to you, draping the leather coat on your shoulders for you to see. You beam at her, thankful. “It's similar to the one I gave to him, you'd be matching. Well, except this one is in a lighter shade.”

The coat reaches down to your knees, cream coloured with little fringes up front right where the front pockets are. It's beautiful with its white threads weaving around its seams. If you look closer at the bottom, you see that it gets darker as it gets closer to the hem. An almost brown shade that reminds you of the oak tree back home.

You inhale, staring at your reflection that you barely recognize in the new clothes. “Do you think it suits me?” Your voice is small, Yuri watches your expression, understanding what you truly meant.

Her playful voice lowers to a softer one, hands rubbing along your arms comfortably. “Of course, sweetheart. You're more than ready for the badlands.” You smile at her, nodding along to her encouraging words.

She twirls you around to face her, you chuckle at the sudden good hearted movement. “Now, my favourite part, the boots!”

—

You pick lint off the armchair while you wait for him to exit out of the dressing room. You're comfortable in your new clothes, it snuggles you cozily, you've never felt like this in any clothing at all; whether it be silk or velvet, all the dresses back home don't compare to what you have on. You look at your dark cowboy boots once again with a faint smile, its gorgeous spider web-like design has your heart bouncing in glee. It's a stark contrast to the threadbare shoes you had on. You make the shiny spurs clink on the floor, chuckling to yourself.

“Careful, don't scruff my floors.” Yuri appears next to you, handing you a small messenger bag.

“What's this?”

“A bag, every woman needs one to store her belongings.” She gestures towards the worn out skirt on your lap. “Especially the important ones.”

“I—”

“It's on the house, just this one though.” She chuckles before handing it to you.

“Thank you, Yuri. That's awfully kind of you.” The leather is rough against your bare hands.

“No worries, darling.” She shrugs, “after all the things you've bought it's only normal that I'd give you a little freebie.”

A door suddenly creaks open, and out comes Hobie in his new outfit. A light airy dress shirt fits perfectly on his torso, the same black bandana still hangs around his neck, hiding the large scar. He fixes the fit of his dark blue vest even though it clearly doesn't need fixing. It has a typical western embroidery on it, saved for the almost invisible peonies dotted along the buttons. His gloves are the same, lighter around the palms where friction is usually present. You flick your eyes over to his coat, Yuri's right, it's almost the same as yours. The length is shorter to accommodate for the warmer weather coming in. The shade is in this mahogany brown, warm in the eyes, a hue lighter around the hem, almost as light as your own coat. Frills are lined around the arms, the silver spikes placed atop the shoulders makes it more unique. His belt buckle this time is different, a spider trapped in amber in place of the deadly scorpion. It's cradled in silver, laurels weaving around the corpse of the spider like an elegant coffin.

Your eyes shine at his handsome appearance. “My, don't you look dapper.” You drink him up, every new thing satisfying your need. Roaming your eyes downward, you tilt your head at the odd material on his legs. His boots are the same, even the spurs, but you can't quite place the new fangled blue thing around his legs. “What's that?”

Both Yuri and Hobie follow your gaze. But Yuri seems to be the only one who could form a coherent sentence. “They're blue jeans, or work pants. Much more comfortable than the old pants. Looks nicer on the behind, eh?” She nudges you, winking at your flustered expression. “Or enhances what's lacking.” Her last comment trails off as you unabashedly ogle him.

“Fuckin' hell.” Hobie finally speaks, his eyes avoid your form. Especially the vest that cinches you right where it matters. “Why do you have a bag?”

You stand up, slinging the bag over your shoulder. Yuri watches the whole thing with amused eyes. “For my things.”

He furrows his brows, “you don't have things, Y/N.”

Eyeing the riding gloves on the table, you cross the small distance, taking it, but before you place it inside the bag, you spot a pretty pink lace ribbon next to it. You also take it for good measure and to annoy him further. Putting it inside your bag, you teasingly smile at him. “Now I've got things.”

Yuri gives you a nod and a thumbs up whilst Hobie takes out bills to pay for everything.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” She victoriously smiles, counting the money.

“Not a pleasure on my part.” Hobie grumbles, you clamp your mouth shut to prevent a laugh from coming out.

—

The saloon is bustling with people even though it's still early in the morning. Some drink their fill next to you at the bar, some are just like you, looking for something warm to fill their bellies with to survive the rest of the day. The whole place smells of hard liquor and broken dreams. You have no idea which smells worse, the sticky floors or the lavatory at the far end of the place. The wide windows help brighten up the place at least, sunlight streaming into the carved establishment. Animal heads stare down at you, an elk’s and a buffalo's empty beady eyes look over yonder the drunkard's solace.

A piano sits just behind you, its stool is currently empty, maybe you should put all the lessons drilled into you to good use. It's better to wait for your meal there than sit right next to a stranger who looks like he's about to expel his breakfast onto your new clothes. Besides, some good music could tamp down all the drunken mumbling and the annoying scrapping of plates.

Hobie notices your heavy look, abandoning his coffee, he taps your shoulder and you almost jump in your skin.

“You still play?” He asks, eyes flicking between you and the old piano.

“I dabble, but I'm a bit rusty. I prefer gardening nowadays.” You lock eyes with him, “and shooting.”

Hobie chuckles in his seat, eyes avoiding your own smile. “You should play, I'll call you when our food is ‘ere.”

“Are you sure?” A soft smile spreads across your lips.

“I’ll watch your back, don't worry.”

Hope weighs you down again. You leave the bar stool, walking the distance towards the familiar black and white keys. Sitting down, you wrack your brain for the notes you've made a long time ago. A song that you've written yourself for the man who watches your back.

Hobie watches you intently, ears perking up at the unfamiliar music. Your hands move precisely, fingers pressing quickly as the song quickens. He smiles, glass now lay forgotten on the bar to watch you play your music. The rest of the bar quiets down a smidge, even the drunkards pause their lips at the mouth of their glass to listen to you play. The song crescendos, from a fast happy beat to a tone that is slower, a forlorn one. All in all, you play it with grace, and weaved with so much emotion.

Hobie scoffs, yet the fond smile stays. “Rusty my arse.”

The bartender appears behind him, plates in hand. “Your girl plays well.” The man places your meals on the bar, pumpkin soup sloshing on the sides of the bowl. Hobie turns towards him, not fully so he could still see you in his peripheral vision. “Is she for hire? Our player retired a few weeks ago, the saloon has never been this drab.”

“No, we're just passin’ by.”

The bartender leaves with a nod. “Too bad.”

Hobie takes his sandwich, twisting around to continue watching you. His eyes zeroes in on the sudden presence next to you. The brim of the stranger's hat hides his face, yet, Hobie knows exactly who he is based on his confident stance. Or who he was before Hobie single handedly destroyed his gang.

You finish the song with a flair, chest heaving, grinning from ear to ear.

“Bravo!” The man leaning towards the piano claps, then a chorus of scattered applause follows right after. “Amazing, sweetheart! Where'd ya learn how to play?”

“A tutor.” You smile shyly.

“Ah, what's the song called? I don't think I've heard of it before.” His long beard moves while he makes casual conversation.

“I-I made it actually.”

“Oh? I didn't know we had a composer in our humble establishment.” He taps the old piano with his gloved hand, his other hand rests on his gun belt, golden pistol shining in the sun. “What's the story behind it, eh? My ears picked up some sad depressing story through the notes.”

“I'm not a composer, a-and yeah, I made it for somebody.”

“Well, I—”

“Culver!” Hobie's booming voice echoes out in the entire saloon, everyone stops what they're doing. “You want to talk to me? Come over ‘ere instead of pestering her.” He has had enough of the conversation, and the danger that you've unknowingly put yourself into.

“Mr. Brown.” Culver says through gritted teeth, standing up straight, flicking the brim of his hat to reveal his face. “Fancy seein’ you here. You're in my territory, spider.”

You notice every single patrons’ faces turning into something akin to a person seeing a ghost, or the reaper itself. Slyly, you move your eyes over to the man, Culver, his name is familiar, you're sure you've heard of it before. Inhaling, you look back at Hobie, whose hand is placed on his gun belt, ready to whip it out if needed. He silently communicates with you, run, his eyes says, but you're paralyzed by fear when you finally remember where you heard the name Culver. It was what that old man Arthur said back then, he's the man whose men were killed by Hobie in a single night.

Heaviness hangs in the air, tension so thick that you can't even poke a hole right through it with a bullet.

“Is she someone precious to ya?” Culver says, suddenly gripping you by the scruff of your blouse, your back hitting the piano keys harshly. You yelp, and Hobie abruptly stands up, eyes aflame. The bearded man smiles, blackened teeth in full display. “She is, isn't she?” He wiggles your head in his hand. You sit there frozen, unable to even breathe. “What if I do the exact thing you did to my men, eh?” You hear chairs scraping against hardwood floors and boots frantically running towards the back exit. It's just you three in the saloon. He taps his finger in between your eyes, flaking leather on your soft skin. “A bullet in between her eyes would look lovely on her, don't you agree?”

“Your quarrel is with me. Let's take this outside, shall we?” Like a strike of lightning, Hobie cracks his bullwhip towards Culver. Dust in your eyes, the high pitched sound ringing in your ears. You then see Culver getting dragged away from you by his arm. The whip wraps around his flesh, threatening to skin him from the force Hobie pulls him towards the swinging doors of the saloon.

You inhale the gunpowder like scent it left, standing up, you quickly follow Hobie out into the sun. As the light hits your eyes, you watch Hobie cracks his bullwhip again. Culver yells in pain as Hobie releases him in the whip's clutches before placing it neatly back on his belt. He stands ways away from him, just across the screaming Culver.

“Painful, innit? This is what you did to two of my mates.” You walk to Hobie's side, he spares you a glance, roaming his jade eyes over you to check for injuries. Satisfied, he then returns his attention towards his target. “Remember that fuckin' pain, because my bullet hitting your heart would hurt much more than this.”

Culver holds his aching arm, kneeling on the muddy ground, hat fallen next to him, revealing a shiny head. “You lettin’ me go?” He cackles, you don't hide behind Hobie. “Just like that? Oh that woman has softened you up, Mr. Brown.”

“D’you want to keep talking or do you want to fuckin' start?”

You knit your eyebrows, fear encompasses you. “W-what’s about to start?” Your hand finds his bicep, holding on to him tightly like he's about to leave you. Again.

“A showdown, go to the side, love, I don't want you ‘ere when the bullets start flyin’” He watches Culver slowly stand up in the corner of his eyes.

“A fucking duel? Are you crazy?” You grip tighter.

Hobie gives you a smile, the same smile he lets you see every night before you head home. It's a boyish smile, innocence hidden behind it. “Go, I'll be fine.”

“And if not? He looks like he's a gunslinger. What if he wins and you die?”

“Then I can't burden you anymore.” He whispers, green eyes glimmering in the sunlight.

“Burden—? What are you talking about?”

“Go, I'll win, don't worry about it.”

“Hobie—!”

“Go, Y/N!”

You move without question after he yells at you. Your hands trembles, knees going weak, tears brimming in your eyes, and he can't even look at you.

As the two men move further away without turning their backs towards each other, you hold onto the saloon's pillar lest you crumble from fear of losing him. Again.

Bystanders look on, watching the spectacle unfold right in front of their eyes. Some hide behind windows, children hide behind their mother's skirts. While you have nowhere to hide. Your nails dig into the wood, Hobie squares his shoulders, fingers brushing along his holster. You spare a look towards his target, his hand already resting next to his yellow-gold gun.

Silence hangs in the air. Death waits for the loser.

Hobie squints his eyes, attention fully on the man before him. He leans back slightly, right foot stepped forward, silver gun shining in the sun; you can even see your reflection on it.

With a single breath, it's all over.

Culver was too slow to quickdraw, probably from his still aching arm. He drops his gun before he could fully draw it out. Hobie's bullet has left a sizable hole in his dominant palm, a gaping, bleeding wound that you can see through if you stare long enough.

Culver screams, a gutteral shriek that worms into your mind. He drops to his knees, eyes wide in panic and shock, trousers drenched in his own blood. Gunpowder still lingers in the air when you run towards Hobie's side. Your hands grip his shoulders, breath stuck in your throat, as you check for any bullet wounds.

“Are you hurt?!” You scream, ears ringing from the loud shot.

“‘m fine,” your wandering hands find reprieve on his jaw. “Love, ‘m fine.”

He sees fear in your eyes like never before, not even when you get punished, cheeks stained with tears from whatever they've thrown at you. You've never looked like this terrified. Scared like a starving doe caught in a bear trap.

“Remember what I told you?” You can't speak or even think. “Breathe, Y/N.” Hobie takes your hand off his skin, there's a reluctance that you're not privy to. “Just breathe, inhale and exhale.” He holds your hand, squeezing once before leaving your side. “I need to finish the job.”

You exhale and he's gone, the golden gun kicked far away, aiming the still warm barrel against Culver's head. “No…” Running after Hobie, you refuse to see another dead man. “Stop! Please.” Gripping his gun once again, you plead with him. “Don't kill him.”

“Step aside, Y/N. If I don't—” he can't fathom what Culver would do to him, to *you if he doesn't end it right there and then. The cycle must stop, he can't accomplish it if you're standing in between his gun and Culver's soft head. “Don't get involved.”

“Please.” You breathe out, warm hands placed around his shooting hand. “Take him to the sheriff, let justice take its course. He's backing down, I don't want to see you kill another one.”

“The sheriff won't do shit. Just like now,” he nudges his head towards the man amidst the crowd. “Let me do this, or he'll follow us and hunt us down.”

“I won't!” Culver suddenly yells, even louder than his painful screams. “I won't follow! I'm tired, Mr. Brown. I don't want to do this no more.” He looks up at the two of you, remourse evident on his face. “I'm sorry about your friends, I really am! But we're already even, you've taken mine too. Every single one I've got.”

“Promise to never exact revenge,” you tell the groveling man as you watch his salty tears mix in with the warm crimson.

“I promise,” Culver cries. “I promise, miss.”

You look back at Hobie, your eyes meet his own. Anger subsides in those emerald eyes, face turning soft. “He promises, Hobie.”

“An outlaw's promise doesn't mean shit—”

“You’ll have to shoot through me to get to him.” You point the barrel right on top of your chest, its warmth seeps through you.

“He wanted to hurt you.” Hobie softly says, fingers wrapping around your own.

“I’m not hurt. It takes more than threats to hurt me, Hobs.” You both stare at each other, hearts beating together. “Can you holster your gun please?”

Together, you help him lower his gun. Together, you let Culver go.

—

You need to leave town immediately. Strawberry's sheriff might've been easily placated with a good duel, but other lawmen pursuing Hobie might not be. Bucky neighs loudly at the sight of you, moreso when he sees your intertwined hands.

“Hi, Bucky.” You start to place your foot on the stirrups but Hobie stops you halfway.

“You need a horse. Might as well put your new gloves to good use, hmm?” You smile as Hobie whistles for the stable hand for help. A teenage boy with worn out blue jeans appears. “She needs a horse. Anythin' fast, or hell, anythin' you have available. What do you have?”

Their conversation drifts into the background. Your attention and breath is taken away by the gorgeous mare that stands behind a stable door. Her shining blue eyes watch you as you approach, hair as white as snow, the same hue as her body, she glimmers in the sunlight that filters through the wooden cracks. She huffs, head leaning away when you hold out your hand. You could only wait for her to make the move, watching you with peculiar eyes like she's sizing you up.

The stable boy does a double take, “wait, ma'am, that's not—!” When he says it, the white mare leanes closer to your touch. “Well I'll be. She never lets anyone touch her except my boss. She's as fine as cream gravy that one is.”

“I think she likes me.” You tilt your head as she sniffs your hand.

“That's a fuckin' arabian, love.” Hobie says breathlessly, watching you and the hot tempered horse interact like you've been her rider for years. “Can't you pick another horse that doesn't cost three horses combined?”

You laugh, feeding the mare hay. “I could, but I really think she's the one for me.” Hobie scratches the back of his neck. “I can choose another one, Hobie.” As if understanding your words, the mare nudges your shoulder. Hobie feels like he's being robbed in broad daylight. But he'll spend a million for you if you ask.

The stable boy pipes up from the side. “You can't actually, ma'am, I was just tellin’ your husband here that we only have her available. The rest already have owners you see. She was abandoned six months ago.”

“How could anyone abandon you?” You whisper towards the horse, petting her head as she welcomes your touch.

“I think her last owner died, and no one has since picked her up, or bought her. My boss is more than willing to get rid of her now to make space.”

“We'll take her, on a discounted fee of course, since she's second hand. And a saddle too.” You grin at Hobie's words.

The stable hand sighs. “At half price too I bet?”

“Now you're speakin’ my language.” Hobie pats the boy's shoulder as he negotiates prices. The mare huffs again, asking for more hay while you are distracted by Hobie's wink thrown your way.

—

“She still doesn't have a name.” Hobie finally breaks his silence, he rides alongside your horse, making sure that your ill tempered mare doesn't buck you off. His hands guide Buckeye, but his eyes are completely on your form.

The road is long and empty, save for a herd of bison roaming just below the mountain you're both trudging. There are small graves littered around the road, worn out crosses, wood eaten by termites. Etched names forgotten, lives scattered in the wind amidst the dirt and blazing sun. You wonder how they died without getting to their final destination. The sun has completely risen, humidity making your lips dry, heat stuck in between your skin and the leather of your gloves. The canopy shields you from the rays, luscious greenery everywhere, trees and grass littered all over the mountain side. You can hear wild horses neighing far away from where you are, their hooves thumping freely on the soil.

You pause from braiding your horse's hair, securing the braid with the pink lace ribbon. Your eyes meet with familiar emerald eyes. “I've been thinking about it actually.”

“Well? What are your options?”

Your lips curl into a mischievous smile. “‘Blue jeans’”

“Oh fuck off.” He rides ahead to hide his growing smile.

You quickly follow, pulling the reins, clicking your tongue to make your horse trot alongside Hobie. “Why not? I like it, I think it fits her.”

“No it does not. You're fucking with me, lovie, and my blue jeans.”

You like him like this, bathed in the sun, in warmth as he smiles back at you; just like the days when you were still just friends, friends with lingering feelings that you're both too afraid to confess. If he doesn't love you back just as before, you'd settle for this, just friends who laugh and talk, and tease each other. It's better this way because friendship means that he still cares for you, that there's still a space for you in his heart no matter how small it is, that you're not forgotten.

“Oh you and your precious blue jeans!” Your laughter echoes around.

“Will you be like this the entire time?” You both turn a corner, where no trees shield you from the sun. He notices you narrow your eyes, palm above your eyes to see him better. “‘ere.”

“W-what?” There's suddenly a hat atop your head, his hat. “Oh!” You run your fingers along the brim that shields you from the light. The leather is soft, a few bumps here and there but you can feel that it's been taken care of. Hobie clears his throat, and your cheeks run warmer than the summer sun. “T-thank you.” You're not an idiot, you've been here for weeks so of course you've heard of the ‘hat rule’ in passing. But you don't know what to do, or what he wants to do when it's in reverse.

“No problem, you've already taken my money, might as well hand you my hat, eh?” Hobie inhales, the mere sight of you wearing his beloved hat sends his heart into overdrive. Maybe he shouldn't have given it to you.

“You make it sound like I'm robbing you blind. I was alright with my old clothes.”

Hobie has the opportunity to say either of the two things that popped up in his mind. One, tell you that you've only robbed him of his heart. And two, make a joke about how much Bucky disdained carrying you with your musty clothes. So he does neither.

“We had to, or we'll be recognized faster than a mother recognizes her child.” You both finally reach the foot of the mountain, successfully surviving without anyone shooting at you, kidnapping you; or hell, getting eaten by a bear. With both of your luck, it's possible.

“Weird analogy but okay.” Your stomach grumbles when you two come to a stop at a fork in the road. One goes to the right, the other on the left. There's nothing else distinguishable on either one of them. The signage is long gone, taken by strong winds, or just time itself. You wince, hoping that he didn't hear the sound your stomach made.

He raises a brow, chuckling deeply at the sight of you hiding your face with the brim of his hat. “I forgot we didn't get to eat. That sandwich smelt really fuckin' good.”

“I really want that pumpkin soup now.” You groan, leaning forward to rest your head on top of your horse who barely notices your movement.

“C’mon, I know a place.” He taps your boot with his own.

“Where?”

“On the left, it's not that far but it'll delay us on our journey.” It's not a bad deal, he thinks to himself.

You suddenly perk up, this is what you were asking for back in that cave, the road less traveled, the road where you get to just spend more time with him. And postpone your homecoming.

“What are we waiting for then, cowboy?” With a kick, and a laugh in your throat, you bolt over to the direction he pointed out.

“‘Cowboy?’ bloody hell.” He really regrets giving you his hat because now he doesn't have anything to hide his flustered face anymore.

—

“You said it was a restaurant,” you huff at the wide river before you, hands on your hips, stomach growling. “Not that we have to catch our own meal!”

Hobie can't help but laugh, a hearty, genuine one that also has you smiling. This suits him, just happy and without a gun in his hand. You like him in every conceivable way possible, even if you're still getting used to his new self. “I just said, ‘I know a place.’ I ain't no liar. Did you expect a café in the middle of nowhere?”

“Yes! And no— I'm hungry now, Hobs!” Your horse agrees, hoof digging into the dirt. Buckeye stands hitched next to her, eyes glued on her white mane. Weird, you thought. “Look, even blue jeans agree!”

“Instant gratification,” Hobie pulls his jacket off and places it on the saddle; he then takes out a folding fishing rod from Bucky's saddle bag. “You should work on that because it's not gonna work well ‘ere, love.” He walks towards the river bank, toeing off his boots, folding up the same trousers you love to see him in. And also folding the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his toned arms. “And her name can't be ‘blue jeans!’” Yelling back, he trudges the rushing cool water that goes up to just below his knees.

“Okay, fine!” You start to strip, taking off your coat and his hat— folding your trousers and sleeves, you follow him to the rocky river bank. “How about ‘trout’ then.”

He hears your voice closer, he laughs at you when you almost slip on a rock. “Careful, it's slippery. You can't name her ‘trout,’ she's too pretty for that.”

“Now you tell me,” you roll your eyes at him as he casts the line. The bait and hook plops in the deeper water, now the waiting game begins. “‘Too pretty?’ you once nicknamed me beetle just because it bit me once!” Warmth spreads across your chest at his laugh. You feel at home in that cold river.

“And? You callin' yourself pretty?” His smirk takes you back at that oak tree.

You have an urge to kiss it off him. You don't, it's not the time yet, or you may ruin everything. “Yeah, you did, I remember you calling me pretty…” you lean closer, face dangerously close to his own. Breaths mixing in together, but you still give him enough space to move away. He doesn't. You don't mention it. He thinks about your lips upon his. “And gorgeous, and then absolutely stunnin’!” You copy his drawl, but before he could even laugh at your teasing, the fishing rod starts to move, yanking him forward.

“Oh fuck!” Hobie reels it in, and you gasp in disbelief at the sheer strength the fish has. “Help me or we'll starve!”

“You don't have to tell me twice!” You embrace him from the back, arms squeezing him, face smothered by his shoulder. He feels warm, he still feels the same. You dig your heels in while he fights with lunch. “Come on, cowboy!”

He almost let go of the rod. “Shit!” You laugh into his shirt and he almost falters once again. “Come on you little—!” With one hard yank, he finally sees the fish fly up, the sun hits its scales, body frantically flopping around. But he pulled too hard, and down he goes on the river bank, with you catching him. “Fuck—!” With a splash, you get a face full of river water.

Hobie immediately jumps to the side to not squash you and drown you in two feet of water. His eyes are full of worry when you emerge coughing. He almost lets go of the rod to tend to you, but your smile and guffaw has relief flowing through him.

“How big is it?!” You ask, entirely drenched.

He gently wipes your face, calloused palms over your soft skin, fingers carefully wiping away a piece of grass stuck on your cheek. You close your eyes, letting him hold you.

Hobie inhales and drinks you in— he still loves you. It's always been there, his love for you, but he refuses to acknowledge it with what he knows just before he left, with what *he said before he took a slice at his neck. Hobie still dreams of you, still dreams of saying those three words again, he's a fool to bury the feeling, especially when you're in front of him again— close to him again, loving him again.

He has no idea what to do now, other than to stand up and give you a helping hand.

—

Hobie's been silent and you have no idea why. You warm yourself on the fire he built, the fish you both caught is now cooking wonderfully on the open fire. The river's currents are a lot stronger now, so it's a lot harder to catch anything without getting carried by it. Your clothes are slowly drying as you wring your sleeves free of water.

“Cherry.” You suddenly break the silence. “I think I'll name her cherry.”

Hobie sits across you again, gazing at you through warmer eyes. “Why cherry?”

“Because horses love fruit, and cherry is a fruit.”

“Brilliant thinkin’ love, horses definitely eat cherries.” He says in a sarcastic tone.

You furrow your brows, “wait, they don't?”

He blinks, “Huh, ‘m actually not sure. Maybe if you take out the pits and cut it in half?”

“That’s…that's plausible, they contain cyanide though.”

“Maybe we should ask them?”

“What?” You chortle, and Hobie cups his hands to yell at the horses.

“Oi! D’you lot eat cherries?” They only stare at him. “Guess not.” You laugh, he finds it infectious so he also does.

“Horses can't talk, Hobs.” You say in between giggles.

“You never know, I might be a horse whisperer.” His smile falters, and you frown at the sudden shift. “‘m sorry for yellin’ at you.” His voice is soft under the cackle of the fire. “I shouldn't have yelled.”

“Apology accepted.” Your nerves calm down, beaming at him, scooching closer to him until your knees grazes his own. He doesn't move away, even nudging your shoulder with a faint smile. “I'm sorry for making you spend so much. But thank you for the nice clothes, and being— just…kind.”

Hobie reaches for your hand slowly, your breath is in your throat, freezing you un place. His pinky brushes along your palm when a twig snaps Hobie quickdraws his gun.

“Who's there?! Show yourself or I'll fuckin' shoot.” Standing up, he hides you with his own body.

You also stand up, hand wrapping around the barrel of the rifle that was leaning next to you. Both yours and Hobie's hearts thump loudly with trepidation. The bush moves and out comes two men brandishing their own weapons. They dress like gentlemen, but their sneers say they are not.

“We came out to piss and we find the spider of the west, guess we're just lucky.” The one with a scar across his nose says, voice scratchy, nudging his companion. “And would you look at that?”

“You’ve found yourself a pretty companion, Hobart, one that has a very high bounty on her head.” The other finishes his partner's sentence. His mustache is all twirly at the end, golden tooth shining in the sun. “Y’know, sweetheart, the whole country's after ya.” You don't falter in your stance.

“With both of your bounties combined, we're aimin’ at ten thousand dollars right now.” The scarred man chuckles.

“Ten thousand?” Hobie whistles, “Can we bring ourselves in instead?” You snort, still aiming at the man's head.

“If only that was possible, Hobart.” The man gives you a twisted smile.

“Are you lawmen?” You ask, “Or pinkertons? You two don't look like either of them.”

“What do we look like then, sweetheart?” The mustachioed man taunts with a toothy smile. “A couple of handsome cowboys?”

“A bunch of dead men.” You push Hobie away, kicking hot coals in their faces, embers flying, smoke filling their lungs. While they're both distracted and yelling at the searing heat— Hobie fans the hammer of his gun, shooting all six bullets into each man's bodies until their lifeless corpses fall atop each other.

“I've seen better.” You stand next to Hobie as he checks for something in their pockets. Their blood slowly spread to the tips of his boots. “What are you doing?”

Hobie rubs a hand across his face, “Lawmen,” he raises the identification papers he found. “We need to go. Pack the fish.”

“But they're dead?” You ask but you still do what you're told.

“Lawmen are like rats, if there's two ‘ere, there's a dozen more near us, hidden under the crevices.” He walks near the banks, head downturned, eyes scanning the plants. “And they've got their noses on us now.”

“Where are you going?” You stand, wrapped fish in your arms. “Hobie!” You start to yell when he has walked a few ways away from you.

Hobie crouches down, hunting knife digging into the soil. You watch him take a bushel of grass, he walks back and now you get a closer look at what he's carrying. You thought your eyes are deceiving you, instead of the familiar green hue, the plant is pink, a very bright shade. There's still dirt clinging to the stems when Hobie carefully covers it with a handkerchief.

“That's oleander, Hobie.” You stare at him, concerned. “And that many could kill a fucking elephant.”

“I know, you taught me, remember?” You nod as shoves it inside your messenger bag. He pauses at the sight of the bundle of letters, then he dismisses them, closing the bag. “It might come in handy.”

“What's your plan?” You're terrified.

“We head to a train station.” He sighs, completely winded, and worried for your safety. “Bounty hunters and outlaws I can manage, but them?” He points at the two bodies. “They've got more resources than either group, and more people in their pocket.”

“Wouldn't that be obvious? Riding the train? We can handle them, just like we always have—”

“They hate my guts more than anyone, Y/N, and they don't fear me as much as bounty hunters or outlaws.”

“But a train…” you shudder. “We'll be in the south in a few days instead of weeks— that's quick, too quick…I don't—” I don't want to leave. “I can't.”

“You wanted the scenic route, right?” He starts to unhitch the horses. “It's the last place they'll look for thinking that we'll be traveling by our lonesome out on the backroads.”

“Yes, but—”

“Nothing’s more scenic than a train ride. C’mon, love, get on Cherry. Before more come out of hidin’”

You nod, tears threatening to spill out. Walking around the corpses, you get on Cherry with a far away look in your eyes. “To the train station then.”

#opin #someone cooked here #love thissss #I need moreeee

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trauma-genic · 2 years ago

Text

man we havent dont a life update on us here in a phat minute but hoo boy things are good

so job has be doing good, been there since nov 2021 and ive gotten a $1 raise which puts me $2 away from $20/hour. and one of our supervisors may be moving up in the company meaning there will be an open spot for promotion in my department. out of everyone there, we may not have been there the longest but we have made the most progress with our online training levels (i believe we are 3 levels away from being managerial material so to speak)

im just not sure how this will effect our relationship with our man, he has been consistently closing his store (as a manager) so he works 10 hours from 4pm to 2 am and thats not accounting for travel time. so he gets home at three am and i have to wake up at seven am, so by the time im getting up in the morning hes only gotten 2-3 hours of sleep and we are only geting one day off a week that happens to be the same day he gets off but other than that thw job is good.

working with our hands has made us realized how rough they are considering before we had nice cut nails and trimmed cuticles, no calluses or injuries. now my hands look like weve been getting into fist fights lol

on another note, our man somehow managed to get us disneyland passes so our lil one has rediscovered disney pins and lets just say we are glad we get paid $18/hour right now.... we have to get a picture to show because its honestly an impressive collection so far, noahs completed one villians set and is almost done with the coffee cup set, mystery pets set, and the fantasy pack set 😁

our man says we should slow down on how many we buy while going which we completely agree with, but having disposable income for the first time in our life, it feels nice to splurge on ourself every so often.

life is good right now and feels like its going to be this good for a long while, and its nice. no fear no anxiety no paranoia or distrust, just happy. content. full and warm and cozy andjust amazing.

thank you to every single one of you guys up in my head for keeping us alive for so long because now we are actually getting to live and love and be loved, and just enjoying life and where its going to take me. 😌

#personal #idk brain rant while high lol

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nextinline-if · 2 years ago

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Oh my god yes please do an adoption scenario 😭

your wish, my command 😁 *Vi attempts fancy hand flourish and falls on her face, somehow*

Constantine

You watch Constantine for a moment, as he bounces from one foot to the other. You haven't seen him this excited in a while. A chuckle leaves your lips. He stops and turns his gaze to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. "What are you chuckling about?"

"Oh, nothing," you tell him. "You're just adorable when you're like this?"

He scoffs playfully. "Adorable? Save that phrase for our kid." Despite the fact that you stand in front of the orphanage, his words stun you for a moment. And he takes full advantage by grabbing your hand and leading you into the building.

You spend the next few hours talking to many of the children, even playing some games, or reading to some of them. At some point, you've gotten separated from Constantine so you search for him.

And you find him with a six-year-old boy. He's using toy swords to teach him defensive techniques. You shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself. After a few minutes, you clear your throat. They both look over at you before stopping. As you walk over, the boy glances at you nervously and then back to Constantine.

Constantine crouches down and offers a soothing smile to the child. 'Why don't you head inside and play with some of the other kids?" The boy nods and gives you both a polite goodbye, looking over his shoulder with hopeful eyes before ducking down and hurrying inside.

You sigh. "I thought you wanted a baby."

Constantine rubs the back of his neck. "Well," he begins, eyes darting around the little garden. "I mean, babies are a lot of work! A child who talks? And walks? That seems like a good idea to me."

You snort. "Be honest. Those sad eyes and that sweet voice won you over."

His blue eyes turn to you. "I'm a goner."

You can't help but smile as you sling your arm around him and steer him toward the door. "Let's go adopt your adorable protégé, then."

Constantine smiles softly and kisses your wrist. "Ours."

"What?" you ask.

"He's our protégé, my love."

Felix

You study Felix carefully, watching him try to control his breathing. When he realizes you're watching, he sends you a smirk. "Can't keep your eyes off me, huh?"

But you can hear the nervousness in his voice. He's trying to pretend that he's not freaking out. You reach out and squeeze his hand. "Are you sure you want to do this? I understand if not."

His hazel eyes soften as he pulls you closer. "I'd walk through fire for you. Adopting a child with you? Walk in the park."

You roll your eyes but grin. "Famous last words, Mr. Faramund."

"Well, I am hot enough to be famous." He winks at you. "Come on, let's go find a cute little ray of sunshine to adopt." You laugh as you walk into the orphanage by his side.

Almost immediately, Felix zeroes in on an older kid alone in the corner of the room. You nudge him and he finally glances away. "Why don't we start with them?" His only response is a nod, but his feet don't move. You sigh.

And then you give him a push, and he looks over his shoulder, glaring at you with a mischievous look in his eyes. "Already setting a bad example for children," he tells you.

"Stop procrastinating and move it!" His eyes widen at your tone and he speed walks to the child with you hot on his heels.

You both come to a stop. Felix and the child stare at each other, neither willing to speak first. "Felix," you hiss under your breath.

He clears his throat. "Hi."

They raise an eyebrow. "Uh, hey?"

You resist the urge to groan. Instead, you ask, "How old are you?"

The kid looks away, out at the other children who are seemingly younger. "Thirteen," they say quietly.

"And how long have you been here?" Felix inquires, seeming to find his voice with your help.

The kid turns to Felix and looks him dead in the eye. "I don't know. Eight years I think."

Felix frowns. "Be back in a minute," he tells them, grabbing your arm and leading you far away.

You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms. "You're acting weird."

He looks at you, his face as serious as you've ever seen it. "I want to adopt them."

You give him a confused look. "We barely know their age, let alone anything else about them. Besides, they're already thirteen."

He nods. "Exactly. The older they get, the less chance of someone adopting them. But older kids deserve love, too!" Then his face turns desperate. "Please, MC!"

"And what if they turn out to be troublesome?" you ask him.

"Then they'll be our troublesome kid that we love."

You smile and let out a dramatic sigh. "Beg a little more first," you tell him. He rolls his eyes but grins at you in a way that makes your heart pound so quickly that you can feel your racing pulse through your body.

Margaret

"Remember what we said," you tell Margaret, looking over at her as you both walk into the building. "We're only adopting one for now."

Margaret sighs and gives you a pointed look. "Yes, yes, darling, I know." When you arrive in the room where many children are playing and running around, Margaret stops and scans the room, her eyes widening in wonder. She looks at you and asks, "But we can come back soon, right? There's so many that need a home."

"Stay focused," you tell her, laughing a little at the pout on her face. At some point in the day, you both end up in the room with the youngest children. Your eyes find a young child, no more than three years old.

They tilt their head and stare at you before turning away. As you walk closer, they turn back, a small teddy bear in their hands. You glance at Margaret and see softness in her eyes.

"Hi, there, little one," Margaret says as she sits beside the child.

They give her a toothy grin. "Hello!"

You both grin back and then you point at their stuffed animal. "Who's that?"

They look down at the bear for a moment and then back up, tears in their eyes. "My friend Teddy." The child tries to push the bear into Margaret's hands.

"Oh!" she says, startled. "You want me to hold Teddy for a minute?"

The child shakes their head and looks down. "No. Take him away from here when you leave. It's too sad for him to be here."

You're pretty sure you see Margaret turn away with a few tears in her eyes. When she turns back to the child, she says, "Here, you hold Teddy for now. We'll be back."

She watches the child from afar. You put a hand on her arm. "Hey, tell me what you're thinking."

Her brown eyes turn to you. "I'm thinking about how sweet that child is. And trying to figure out how to convince you that we should adopt them." She studies you carefully, waiting for your reaction.

"They are very sweet," you muse. "Maybe too sweet for some of your lessons."

Margaret scoffs. "Your wrong, darling. That little one is perfect. It's always better if people don't know how deadly you can be."

"Alright, well, we're adopting two like you wanted, then. I mean, we can't leave Teddy behind."

She giggles. "Of course not!"

Sweat rolls down the back of F's neck as they walk into the orphanage. You've had a long talk. Several of them. And although they're nervous, they also believe that the two of you can raise a lovely child together. When you first brought it up, they asked for some time to consider. And now, a year later, here you are.

You grab F's hand and give it a gentle squeeze. They smile at you before looking around. "Where do we start?" they ask, feeling overwhelmed by the chaos and noise all around.

"Let's go someplace quieter. I bet the babies are sleeping this time of day."

F laughs to themself. "Never heard of a baby being quiet, but I'll follow your lead."

The room you enter has dozens of babies. "So many," you say quietly.

F nods. "The aftermath of a long war."

Before you can respond, they bend over the crib of a baby girl and scoop her up. You can see their green eyes light up as they look at the child.

You run your fingers across the tag on the crib. "It says she's six months old," you note.

"Isn't she lovely?" their quiet voice asks.

The baby girl opens her eyes and looks at you, her tiny hand wraps around one of your fingers. You meet F's gaze and smile.

A while later, the baby now asleep in F's arms, they turn to you. "What do you think? Should we adopt her?"

You watch the baby sleep for a moment. "I don't know. Babies are a lot of work."

"But we'll be doing it together." They come to stand beside you at the window and lean their head on your shoulder. "Besides, you're my moon, and she can be our little sun."

"Well, how could I say no to that?" F leans away and grins at you.

#mothsflame #interactive fiction #kids #hypothetical #f faramund #constantine dimas #felix faramund #lady margaret #sorry this took so long ;o

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danses-with-dogmeat · 2 years ago

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hello 😊 can you add kent connolly to the "sole who can't handle softness" thing please? 👉👈 have a nice day

Yes, I can!

This sweet boy deserves everything good honestly. I've also added him to the FO4 Companions React to Sole Who Doesn't Know How to Handle Softness post as well, so you can find him there 😁

Thanks for the ask! And have a lovely day as well! <3

Kent:

The fact that Sole even chooses to be with Kent is a mystery to him. One long session of talking their ear off about the Silver Shroud, and he was absolutely hooked on the vaulty. They listened so well, cared about what he said, they were kind to him, sat through the whole thing and never once called him crazy or strange… Maybe those weren’t the only criteria required to immediately fall head over heels for someone, but Kent was so unused to genuine compassion that he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by them. Then, when they became the Silver Shroud? When they saved him from a horrific fate, like the real hero they are? He’d never been more in love with someone. When they said they felt the same, when they smiled at him one day in that little back room decorated with comic book posters and told him that they cared for him… Kent was sure he’d died and ascended to some glorious afterlife where his wildest dreams could somehow come true.

Just the fact that Sole was with him was incredible, and he felt that if he was too eager, too forthcoming with his feelings in either a physical or verbal way, he would scare them off. They would realize how strange he was, like everyone else had. Maybe it would frighten them, how much he already loved them, so early on, but with Sole, how could he help it?

Kent’s as unfamiliar with softness as he is with hand-to-hand combat or the inner workings of a nuclear power plant, and he would never push Sole on something they didn’t first initiate. So, the fact that physical closeness doesn't happen all that often isn't really surprising. This isn’t because Kent doesn’t want it, far from it, but he just doesn’t realize that it’s something he could ever have. He’s a ghoul. He's from a different time. He’s odd. He’s lucky to have Sole even look at him, much less touch him. So he never utters any complaint about their hesitancy with him, and he never notices their flinching and discomfort in regards to himself, only to those around them. When they go to the Hotel Rexford for a drink, or down to the Third Rail to hear some music, he sees the way loud voices make them shudder, how they can’t do eye contact, how anxious they get when strangers lay a hand on them, even when it seems innocent.

Some small part of him is relieved that it's not just something to do with him. Another part of him is concerned, but he keeps his lips sealed. If Sole wants him to know something about them, they’ll tell him. He hopes.

When they do, though, when they notice the way Kent raises his brows when they flinch away from a loud-talking stranger, Sole sits him down and tells him the truth of it. By the end of their hushed confession, Kent’s hands are shaking. How could someone who says they care about them do this? How could they take Sole’s love for granted like that? What was wrong with them?

And why would Sole stay with someone like that when they deserve nothing less than perfection?

That was the same question he asked himself whenever they rested their head against his shoulder, or when they sat with him for hours on end, talking about nothing in particular, but smiling all the same. Now he’s just glad they ended up with someone who reveres them the way he does. The way they deserve.

He may be a ghoul, he may be unorthodox at times, he may be inexperienced and over eager when it comes to loving them, but he knows he appreciates them, he knows that he would never hurt them, no matter what. Though he’s sure they know that, he tells them anyway, and he tells them often.

Slowly, Kent becomes more comfortable being open with Sole about the depth of his feelings for them. He had no idea how much they needed to hear it, and he’ll be darned if he doesn’t do everything he can to make them even a fraction of how happy they make him. Eventually, he even gets the guts to brush a hand over theirs, to press a kiss to their cheek, to scoot closer when they sit beside one another, and when he sees the way they reciprocate, hesitant as it may be, it warms him from the inside out. He’s never been in love like this before, never had someone who craved his touch the way Sole does, never had someone who overcame their fears for him, who called him “their hero”.

That one got him. Tears filled his eyes as they said those few words, and Kent Connolly would vow right then and there that, like a true hero, he would never let them down.

#fallout #fallout companions reacts #fallout companions #fallout companions reactions #fallout 4 #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 companions react #fallout 4 companions reacts #fallout 4 companions reactions #fo4 #fo4 companions #fallout npcs #kent connolly #fo4 kent connolly #silver shroud #sole survivor #sole

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mikuni14 · 9 months ago

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@chaos0pikachu I can't speak for the whole fandom 😁 but of course I'm still aware of the young age of these boys, and I write about it many times. The problem is something else, I will get back to it below. Regarding Tee's financial naivety and the fact that he was naive about Non's debt - I don't entirely agree with it, because Tee deals with EXACTLY THAT in his uncle's organization, with the money. I understand your arguments about Tee and agree with most of them. The problem for me is that Non, although also forced to do many stupid and bad things that he did, was the only one who was constantly punished for them. Non involved the boys in illegal stuff - Non was beaten, he was theratened, the group hates him, there is a constant fight at home. Non sleeps with Kenf for the money he needs - Non is recorded, publicly humiliated, endless fights at home, this time about it. Non "cheats" on his boyfriend - his boyfriend breaks up with him in a painful scene. Tee? He gets a second chance, love, a new life, a clean start for a new life. Por? Top? Jin? Even Phee? Same. Why was it only Non who paid for everything, for his teenage mistakes? I really like this series because it doesn't moralize, it only shows facts. We get to know Tee and his situation, but we also learn about the choices he makes. Same with the other characters. For me, they all behave very logically, but I also constantly realize that they would be behaving reliably and logically by doing SOMETHING DIFFERENT. For example, after Non's death, Tee could have acted logically by shutting himself down with his trauma (as he did), or he could have gone to Non's parents and begged for their forgiveness. Tan could have stayed abroad, could have returned and fight legally for his missing brother, or gone down the path of violence. Non, Tee and the rest of the boys behave understandably, by looking for shortcuts, avoiding problems, avoiding unpleasant confrontations with parents, police, school, by lying and cheating. And everything would be fine, we could get over it, if it weren't for the physical violence, death and destruction of the entire family. For which no one suffered any consequences. Nobody even apologized. The scene where Jin apologizes is very telling. His apology is empty because Jin doesn't have the courage to say WHAT HE IS APOLOGIZING FOR. For me, The Glory is a perfect series in terms of revenge stories for two reasons: 1) the hero/avenger brings the revenge to an end and there is no motive of "forgiving and becoming better than the bullies, thanks to which they get away with the crime", 2) the hero/avenger's reaction to the end of revenge, which was very believable to me. I don't know if DFF will follow suit, I try not to think about the finale tbh 🙂 I base my hope for a good ending on the fact that the series has NOT moralized so far, so I hope that it will remain true to itself until the end. HOWEVER, as @italianpersonwithashippersheart mentioned, it would make me very sad if the only victims in this series who "paid" for their actions were Non and Tan. The thought of it makes me sick. And no, I don't treat Por and Top's death as a "punishment" because they were both unaware that they were being "punished", while Non felt every punch, every humiliation, his parents lived in hell of lack of knowledge and remorse and poverty, and Tan .. he's just been living in hell for last 3 years. For now, the boys are only afraid, afraid for themselves - again, it is about them, without any reflection, without consequences. I'm talking about not moralizing, but I also need justice, some compensation for wrongs. This unequal treatment of the Non family and the rest of the characters by the narrative will be the worst ending for me, EVEN IF IT IS A BELIEVABLE ENDING. This is still fiction, this is not the cruel and unjust real life, so I need to know that Non and Tan are not the only victims of this story. The Glory did it. The Glory logically put the hero/avenger on the edge of the building and THEN GAVE HER A SECOND CHANCE. This is the power of fiction 👌💖

Dead Friend Forever - Ep 11

Another episode, another 10/10 🏆

It never ceases to amaze me how much this series is based in real life. As a person living in a country where the alcohol problem is significant (as almost everywhere 🤷‍♀️), remembering the 80s and 90s, I know situations in which children have to pick up their drunk parents from the streets, endure shame and public humiliation, take care of them as if THEY were the adults. I also know situations in which conflicts over land, the taking of property by someone in power, drove people crazy (I worked with a woman whose MIL went crazy because of it). I also know people who, as children, had to take care of the house because their parents couldn't do it due to their illnesses, addictions and traumas. These are real stories. I KNOW these stories.

Although for a long time I was rather convinced that Non was dead, now, despite the literal facts, I am starting to doubt it 🤡 It's too obvious in this show full of non-obviousness, but on the other hand, the victim's passing in such an ordinary, anticlimactic way is somehow… fitting with the overall painful reality of this show, the banality and ordinariness of evil. Victims often just... go, in silence, without fanfare, without a bang. Although that's why, despite everything, hope somehow grew in me, as if in spite of the facts...

The series amazingly showed love at first sight, the pinkness that accompanied White's entrance, the music, the atmosphere… but it's not the first time, Phee was just as instantly infatuated with Non, as Jin was with Phee.

The series also, consciously or unconsciously, shows that there was a solution when it came to money: there was legal work that did not involve suffering, violence, sex or crime. Tee paid off Non's debts by working at an internet cafe!!! And it's amazing when I think about the fact that Non slept in Keng "out of gratitude" for the money and Tee, looking for money for his father, agreed to work in a criminal organization. And what's more baffling, it's even shown that Tee receives very LITTLE money from his uncle, so it's not even a matter of "selling out to the mafia" for a good money that would allow for professional treatment of his father in the hospital! (I actually thought the whole time that his father was in the hospital and he was paying for his expensive treatment!!!). Even this terrible uncle says:

As I mentioned in another post, I can't bring myself to feel sympathy for Tee because Tee targeted Non, chose him as an easy victim, introduced him to the criminal world, lied about the camera when he really didn't have to (he could have come up with some other lie, for example that they entered the classroom and the camera was already broken, or no one touched it at all and whatever - heh, I came up with this lie in a second so that no one would get hurt - and why did Por bring it to school in the first place?) and then actively work with Top against Non and Keng, although he really, really didn't have to. Tee never de-escalated the situation, he was always the driving force behind events. Even though he didn't have to.

I appreciate that Non is shown to be physically exhausted, which is the result of being beaten. It would be strange if after something like that he just felt good and worked hard. His mental state certainly affects his health as well. How terrible it is that Non thinks that no one is waiting for him at home. that there is no one to return to. It's a child's heartbreaking belief that their parents don't care about them enough to notice that they are gone, to look for them. This is Non's double tragedy: what is happening to him and the fact that he doesn't have something, someone, to give him strength. Even on his note, he states that he is not a loser as his motivation...

The best scenes of course went to Tan, oh how I loved everything. The way he directs Phee towards Tee, the way he incites him. That Tan is not afraid of death. That he has a plan because he didn't trust Phee. It's very possible that for Tan it may no longer be about Non, but about pure revenge and karma and punishment and atonement.

There is an anime that I like, One Outs 😉 There is one scene in this anime in which the main character calls out people, especially politicians, that when they screw up something, they bow, apologize and that's the end of it. That they never pay for their sins, never face real consequences, that they never experience what the victims of their actions experienced. And this scene stays with me all the time while watching DFF. Because we can see, that the boys feel guilty, some more, some less, episode 11 showed that Tee had the greatest sense of guilt of all of them, because he was in the very center of events and knows the most. But what good does it do to Non? Who cares about their guilt and whispered apologies under the influence of drugs, in fear? Did their guilt help his parents or did it help Non and Tan?

None of them ever suffered any consequences or tried to right the wrongs. ON THE CONTRARY. Everyone pretends that nothing happened and is downright furious that this case keeps coming back and ruins their peaceful lives, and it dares to make them uncomfortable. Each of them lives a good life, including Tee, who is in love and happy. The movie is still finished. THE MOVIE IS STILL FINISHED AND THEY ARE PROFITING FROM IT.

Revenge for wrong is one of the oldest tropes in the stories created by people. The Erinyes are some of the oldest figures in the mythology of my part of the world for a reason. It is a disagreement that bad people can get away with their bad deeds. Tan fits this narrative perfectly. He carries revenge, quite possibly only for himself. So somehow I'm glad that "if Non would have wanted it" didn't shake his conviction in any way 💖

I'm still holding off on judging Phee and his behavior towards Tan until the finale. Despite everything, something still doesn't feel right to me 🤔

When things get dangerous at the beginning of the series and they immediately suspect Non's ghost, each of them repeats the same narrative from the past: fear, guilt, the need to escape, to move away from the the problem. In all cultures there is something like prayer, appeasement of vengeful spirits, confrontation with what has been done to these spirits. Notice that all of them, even when they think it might be the "Ghost Non" that is chasing them and taking revenge, not one of them even for a second proposes: let's apologize to ghost Non, let's pray for him, let's promise him and ourselves, that if we come out alive, we will do something about it, we will MAKE AMENDS, do penance, even if it will be inconvenient for us - because that is what penance is about, it is supposed to be "inconvenient", just like the victim was "inconvenient" ffs!!! BUT NO. There is only worrying about themselves, destroying disks, destroying the memory of Non, running away from the problem, blaming others.

Tan is right.

#dead friend forever #thai bl #bl drama

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