#love these two with all my heart tbh they're two old men in love and i love it

[n0tamused]

✮⋆˙World of Maii'ard

Hello! I recently did post about wanting to make my own original word and expressd some doubts about doing so, but thanks to some encouragement (and scolding from a friend/pos) I decided to give it a go, even if it doesn't end up going anywhere. But I have to admit that it was way more fun than I would have thought! I was in fandoms and creating for fandoms so long and tied myself to only that canon, that I forgot how it delt to make something for just myself. But I'll not yap for much longer.

I want to introduce you to the first three characters I created! Although there are many more that I have, and that I want to draw, but the story of these three has grown very close to me and I just had to draw them first.

First character I want to introduce is - Izarra Mayfindel Kalint'ara, an elf King in the North.

After the Year of Woe, he found what survivors of his kin there were and led them to the safety of the Mountains in the North. Although it was far from home and full of the unknown, he rallied his people and made it all work out - and for his efforts and good deeds he was crowned as their King.

I really am so proud of the embroidery I did on his outifts, I was just sort of winging it and hoped for the best. And it turned out really good!

Next up, we have Nurul Layla (not the real name, also it is subject to change too)

Believed to be half elf by outsiders, she is the legend of the Northern Kingdom held by Izarra. The stories told by the Va'banova (Kingdom of Men located to the southeast of the continent) speak of the maiden that swallowed the star and fell into deep slumber when she reached North, whose soul now travels across the mountains. But her tale has been told my many generations and changed even more times than that. To carry the Zvyezda is no easy feat and the North offered her shelter against those that wish to misuse it.

Some of you may remember Elinsaer, my LOTR sona, and my HSR sona Jien, well this is her just in this universe lol. I love my sona too much to not include her in this world as well. And tbh she gives me comfort writing all the lore. She is not the main protagonist of the overall story, but nonetheless she does play a big role anyhow. I love her <3

And last but not least! Isto'nad!

Isto'nad, they call him, but he was known as the Breakspear during the old years before the Year of Woe. He served dutifully as the knight of a lesser noble house in the South (of the continent of Heart of the World), before advancing in ranks to the Court of Geregheid. But his story is lost after the disasters hit, and he only resurfaced years later in the Northern Kingdom.

He is so precious to me, I can't explain to y'all. I'm still on the lookout for a better name for him, Isto'nad is his last name and I really love the meaning behind it. I combined two words of my language meaning 'east' and 'hope' and mashed them together to have somthing that sounds like a name hehe

I'm still working out the details of all of them here, but they do have connections to one another. Also, intentionally or not, but I love that their dynamics correspond to the sun-moon-star thing. <3 (so tempted to make Isto'nad and Nurul/Jien romantic AAAAAA)(they're comforting to me ok?)

I already have some sweet sketches of them that aren't so platonic lmao. But in their story I'm not sure how they'll go just yet. But they're there and they make me happy

Also here's some sketches I did of all their faces, as I'm trying to escape the same face syndrome and also draw them more accurately as well.

Again, not finished, but it's close!

I have so much more worked out in my world that I hope to share with you all, but I don't want to make this post too long, so expect me to make more posts in the future as I work out more details <3

Let me know what you think.

So many thanks to @eebeewrites for both the encouraging words and the useful tips for writing, I'm so grateful pookie <3 thank youuuu <33

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[sitp-recs]

Hello!! Hope youre doing well <3 Do you have any kid fics u could recommend??? I'm mainly looking for crack fics but anything would do the job tbh :) Thank youu

Hi anon! I’m hanging in there, what about you? Kid fic is not my usual jam but I’ve read a few shorts and am sharing them below. Oh, and I’ve heard great things about The Lesson of You by thecouchsofa - you might want to check it out!

Blue Sky Is Living Here Today by ignatiustrout (G, 5k)

Draco's a father, Harry's in love with him, and it's really hard to take things slow.

A Hippogriff for Christmas by @xanthippe74 (G, 6.5k)

Draco is desperately trying to fulfill four-year-old Scorpius’ dearest wish for Christmas: a visit with a real Hippogriff. Harry is desperately trying to be left alone, safely tucked away from the attention of the wizarding world as Hogwarts’ Keeper of the Keys and Grounds.

Our Ordinary Days by Lomonaaeren (M, 8k)

Two men, both fathers of sons, meet in a bookshop. And the rest is the kind of history that doesn't make history.

Little Talks by Femme and noeon (E, 11k)

Draco's been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he's sure it's just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong.

Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic (M, 15k)

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year…

The Strongest Affinity by @eidheann (T, 17k)

Trouble finding a wand for Scorpius leads Harry and Draco to something they never imagined.

DIY Messiah by scoradh (M, 26k)

Harry stopped hating Draco Malfoy on Bring Your Kids to Work Day. Cw: infidelity (Hinny)

And some recs with a side of humor:

Dad Says by GallaPlacidia - can be found HERE

The Whole Set by @dracogotgame (G, 2k)

Four times Harry and Draco just knew what House their kids would get sorted into...and what actually happened.

Dating Potters by GoldenTruth813, Mzuul (E, 8k) - Drarry, Scorbus, Jeddy

Scorpius and Albus have been together for awhile now and decide it's time to have a family dinner and come out to their fathers. What they're not counting on is the fact that they're not the only ones with secrets to share.

Dating for Dads in Denial by @aibidil (T, 25k)

In which one wizard designs and another reluctantly patronises a magical matchmaking service, amidst the chaos of children and parenting.

Desperately Seeking... by @maesterchill (E, 34k)

Harry Potter is NOT desperate for someone to love. He DOESN'T need anyone's help to find a date. And he CERTAINLY doesn't want to go on a dating show! Unfortunately for him, his teenage children have other ideas. After all, they know just how big and loving (and a little bit lonely) their dad's heart is.

There's a Pure-Blood Custom For That by Lomonaaeren (M, 106k)

The day that Harry stops Draco Malfoy and his son from being bothered in the middle of Diagon Alley starts a strange series of interactions between him and Malfoy. Who knew there was a pure-blood custom for every situation?

[tiramisusbakery]

The Auction pt. 1

Summary: Hidden Inventory Gojo and Geto play sorcerer save-a-ho {lol} a little too close to the sun and end up as love rivals to a girl from the Red Light. Leaving their little world of sorcery in the mountains, they sneak out to Tokyo, a city budding with a new thing called...quirks?

(no MHA characters btw just a slight universe clash)

So...the quirk thing is weird, but they're not asking questions, as long as they get in the club. Taking a dip into underworld affairs to test their luck, they are forced into a world of glitz, glam, and organized crime, sacrificing much more than money (but still a lot of fuckin money) to save the object of their affection from dire circumstances and win her love. MINORS DNI

#BLACKOC #jjk #Gojosatoru #Gojo #GetoSuguru #Geto #NSFW #MHAOC

Warnings: NSFW, Teens in adult situations (what else is new in jjk tbh), violence, cursing, underage alcohol consumption

OPTIONAL READ: Lore Recap for the world surrounding this fic; What started as a fun rebellious game of sneaking out from Jujutsu High to party (Gojo) and trying to do damage control as a result, only to get mixed up in the same world himself (Geto) turns into a sex addiction, a secret love affair, and a complicated set of Red Light District politics for our boys. On a night out meeting his favorite call girl, Tira, Gojo finds himself intrigued instead by her mentee, Angie, a mysterious escort with enormous wings (and something called a quirk?) Geto, looking for Gojo, found Angie first and shared a short...yet intimate...exchange with her before she sends him on his way back to JJH. Afterward, she shares a passionate night with her sensei and Geto's best friend, Gojo. Her first night as a fully fledged escort is a success! Yet, little does she know, she has become the object of the affection of the two strongest sorcerers alive.

Enjoy~

"I think i'm in love" Angie whispered aloud, more to herself than Tira, her sensei, who sat across from her at the bright makeup table.

Tira flinched, missing her nail, and sticky bright- red polish from the set she'd been working on dribbled down her index finger, dolloping onto the glossy vanity instead.

"Oh, hun."

"Why do you sound like I just told you my nana died?" Angie blinked at her from the chaise sofa that she had strewn herself across since returning from the meet and greet. 

Tira heaved a sigh, throwing her head back and letting her hair tumble down her shoulders to dust the floorboards. She met the girl's wide-eyed stare through heavy lids.

"She might as well have, babes. Please don't take this the wrong way, but you need to prioritize."

Angie avoided her gaze, and Tira felt an uncomfortable twinge in her chest for all of a second. She had a feeling she knew who it was, but what if…?

"Okay, i'll bite. Who are you in love with?"

The younger woman puffed her cheeks, prodding her pointer fingers together in quiet apprehension. "Suguru"

Tira straightened, attending to her drying manicure as if the twinge had never occured. She tried to remain neutral as she thanked her lucky stars.

"Mhmmm, Suguru." She hummed. "You mean the hot best friend of heartthrob Gojo Satoru, whom you fucked last week?"

Angie waited a beat before nodding. Tira didn't even wait to meet her eyes in the mirror before continuing.

"Suguru, whom you've fucked a total of one and a half times, only seen at night under neon lamps, and don't even know what he does for a living?"

"What was that slime monster?"

"Exactly."

"But they're just heroes! Really…weird heroes."

Tira tsked, and it was the first time Angie felt her age with the woman since they'd met. "What did I say about letting men play hero with you?"

"But he's not playing-"

"He's as serious as a 16 year old boy can be. Which, believe you me, is playing. Playing hero, noirette."

Tira felt as though she could hear Angie's heart break, and decided to change her approach.

"Little bird, when is he coming back?"

"Dunno." She muttered. Tira turned to find the girl's face in her hands, her newly defined curls curtaining her no doubt reddened complexion.

"Wanna see?"

Angie didn't react.

Whipping out her phone, Tira tapped a few keys. In just one ring came the bedroom voice of her favorite romp.

"Ye-llow~"

"Blue" she purred.

The phone went silent. Then a word, on a voice that wavered ever so slightly with boyish glee.

"Tira?" Satoru asked in disbelief.

"Its me. I need a favor."

"A-anything! Uh, well almost anything. Yes?"

"I need to know the next time you and your friend plan to come to the district together, a few days in advance. Is that alright?"

"Uh, sure. Why?"

"No questions. Just be sure to have some serious bread next time I see you. Tell your pal to empty his sock drawer. We're gonna play a little game."

Tira clapped the phone shut, and tossed it onto the counter.

Angie watched the device skitter until it stopped.

"Good. Now all we need is to choreograph"

"Choreograph? Wha-"

"Your mimic dance, of course. The one you'll do on Geto and Gojo when they bid on you."

"When they do WHAT?"

Tira was up from her chair in a moment, bouncing toward her charge with the glee of a girl half her age. 

"When they bid, my love! They're going to bid to claim you. Only one of them can, now, since they're best friends. The other will be forbidden from booking with you forever!” 

She paused.

“Or at least until you’re fully on the market and can choose your own clients, which won’t be for years. We'll see who is in love with who then~"

Angie's jaw dropped, her heart kicking in her chest at the sudden adrenaline that Tira had injected into her bloodstream.

"No. No! What if Geto can't out-bid Gojo?"

"He can and will."

"But Gojo has money. Like, old money. What if he screws him over?"

"He wouldn't do that if his friend was really in love with you"

"But what if he's not?"

"Aha! There it is."

Angie closed her wings around herself and hid in the bundle of feathers as if huddling against a strong wind. Her breathing softened to a light coo as she attempted to steady her anxious pulse.

Tira's heart skipped a beat at the sight of the scared girl. Hesitating, the woman dropped to her knees before her, and took her hands from beneath the plumage of her wings, massaging them in her own.

"Angie, baby?" She cocked her head to the side, her grin softening to one of sympathy. "You're scared, huh?"

"Yes." Her voice was muffled and small.

"Baby, this is an exercise in maturity. See this as a win win win. You get to find out if he shares your feelings without ever revealing your own, you get showered in cash, and you don't even have to show skin. Plus, nothing clears my head like a good auction."

Wait a minute, auction? Wasn't there a big one coming up? Screw the mimic dance, she might be able to make Angie a star. 

But was she ready?

"But if he loses he can't ever book with me again" the girl sniffled.

"If he loses, he'll just have to find a way to love you for free, Raven."

The girl parted her wings and a sliver of light danced in her wet, owlette-like eyes.

"You're so smart"

Tira rested her head in the girl's lap.

"I know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the next three weeks, Tira strictly forbade Angie from contacting her boo-thang, and put her under rigorous training for her one shining moment as a prize between the two boys.

According to Tira, this was her first test in distinguishing work from play, where she would need to be okay being an ultimatum, a genuine variable to someone's life and limb. It was the pride and joy of geishas to move their audience beyond recognition with their art, and she needed to be worthy of that.

And beyond anything else, it was her duty to make him suffer, Tira had said- especially since he'd had the audacity to make her fall in love with him.

"These boys are brothers in arms. Why should you be what comes between them?" Tira snapped, tapping a closed fan sharply to her student's protruding hip.

This time, Angie was balancing a short stack of books on her head, atop them a teacup filled with hot tea. The steam wafted from the cup as she watched it in the full length mirror before her, reminding her of the imminent danger of dropping it.

"W-well"

"Don't hesitate. Why would one of them choose you over the other?"

"Because I am not a want."

"What are you?"

"A need"

"Yes." Tira clapped her fan and Angela posed in the second formation that had been taught to her, where she popped her chest and tucked her stomach, her fingers pinched delicately above her head and the heels of her feet raised up from the ground. She met her own eyes in the mirror, not spilling a drop of tea.

"Why should they spend their life savings, their allowance, the very last penny of their piggy bank on you?"

"Because it was never theirs, it was mine from the day they met me."

"Good!" She clapped her fan once more, and Angie adjusted in time with her command.

Tira clapped her fan, posing, adjusting, and instructing Angie until she was exhausted, and even beyond. She made the girl go days in heels until the blisters became part of her feet, and spoke to her with the kind of instruction an old madame might have given a disobedient upstart. 

And then came the choreography. Angie had been bent, bounced, and broken until she could execute every move to perfection. She was up practicing at dawn, and didn't stop until her shift every night.

Angie didn't know if she regretted telling the girl about her feelings, but if this didn't end soon, she thought she would take them back.

Angela laid flat on her back on her Sensei's plush mattress, much softer than her own last-minute sleeping arrangements, and absentmindedly addressed the burn marks in the ceiling above her as they wound the periphery of the room, looking desperately for a distraction from the stinging in her feet. She wasn't sure if Tira would be back from her last call of the night soon, and was worried to be found slacking, but the worry didn't overpower the exhaustion. 

"Ooooh what am I gonna do~" she moaned.

Her breasts were swollen in her loose grasp, having been heavy and burdened ever since she'd begun to tighten up about weaning Miku. She didn't know why she couldn't just keep letting her baby nurse- it felt better for both of them, anyway.

Well, that was a lie. She knew why, it was so she could finally move up the ranks from a rookie geisha to a full performer by her next birthday. It would make her and Miku more money, and she'd finally be able to rent her own place in the Playground. Her baby couldn't be attached to her the way she was now, or she'd be stuck until her daughter could talk.

Prodding delicately at her puffy nipples, she closed her eyes and pictured first holding Miku to them to relieve the pain, and then Geto. 

Geto could…help instead…she thought blearily, her eyes fluttering a few times before she finally drifted.

She didn't know that she'd fallen asleep until a light tap on her nose pulled her out of her stupor. Peering up into the lamp-lit halo above her, she saw her instructor's pursed, plum colored lips and arresting brown eyes, appraising her as if she were a curator and her charge a work of art.

"You're ready."

Angie's mouth snapped open and she sat up in the lush bed, holding the sheets to her chin. "How can you tell?"

Tira shrugged. It was the most juvenile movement Angie had seen her make in weeks. "I just can. Look at how you sat up, no haste. How you woke from your sleep, so graceful. Stand for me."

Angie did as she was told without a second thought, as if her body moved on its own. She swept up from the bed lightly, her posture tall, and floated to the space before Tira as if she materialized there.

Her feet hurt but her discipline had taught her to stand tall anyway. Tira circled her once, stood back, and hummed in approval.

"Yeah" Tira smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corners with a surprising melancholy. Angie wondered how much sleep she'd gotten herself over the span of her student's training. If she'd been suffering too, she hadn't let on even once. "You can feel it, too, right?" She murmured, "You're more womanly."

"I don't believe that I have changed that quickly-"

"Listen to you! I don't believe~" she held a petite hand to her lips and laughed breathily. "You sound like you have tea with the Emperor at 2pm. What do you say, shall we check in on the boys?"

"No. We shouldn't."

Tira nodded. She'd passed the test.

"Mmm there's a hot spring nearby. Let's celebrate with a late night dip, hm?" 

Angie felt a twinge in her stomach, then again, lower. Tira's eyes sparkled like pools of honey in the golden light of her candelabra as she waited for her response.

Angie let her eyes search her instructor's, tapping her cheek to draw out the moment before finally agreeing. 

"Yes, let's."

[NSFW YURI INCOMING]

The hot water felt like heaven on her weary limbs as she stretched her wings in the deep pool. She sank up to her shoulders in the delicious water, which had been mixed with a fragrant lavender oil at Tira's request. Her hair was free of her usual puffs, the coils tickling her shoulder blades as they soaked up the water.

She felt the urge to swim, but was scared to do anything that might make her seem juvenile enough to be put back in training. Instead, she dunked a cupped hand into the pool and ran it on her face and neck.

"Ahhhh~" she sighed, the last cool air of her lungs escaping into the humid room.

She was alone though, waiting anxiously for Tira to tie up her boundless hair in the changing room so that it wouldn't gain ten pounds in water weight the second she stepped into the pool. It made sense, but Angie watched the door for her anyway, trying her best to suppress the hammer in her chest when the woman finally revealed her naked form.

Her complexion like honey butter all the way down, with not a blemish to be seen, Angie watched Tira slink opposite her into the hottub, her supple curves slicing the water in two. Her large breasts buoyed themselves on the surface, and she stretched her arms above her head in languid yawn that was somehow both sensual and completely self indulgent.

Angie averted her gaze, realizing she'd been staring.

"So you do like women," Tira hummed.

Angie started.

"Yes."

"I love that you give me straight answers now," she smiled, and dimples pricked her cheeks. Did she always have dimples?

"Thank you, sensei"

"You're welcome, darling." The older woman leaned across the water, and her wet cleavage tilted toward her charge. "But I'm still just Tira. We're past all that, remember?"

Angie nodded and Tira slunk to her side, slinging an arm over her shoulder. 

"Although, I would like to call you imouto- chan, if that's okay?"

"It's okay," Angie was painfully aware of Tira's naked thigh pressing against her own under the water.

She refused to meet Tira's questioning gaze. A slow smile spread across the woman's lipstick- stained lips, a mischievous expression taking hold on her face.

"Or would you prefer something else?" 

Her arm dropped. A squeeze on Angie's upper thigh sent her heart racing. Her lungs tightened, and she couldn't breathe. None of it showed on her face.

Angie cut her eyes at the woman experimentally.

"Well, Onii- chan~" she paused, thinking. She took pleasure in Tira's widening eyes.

"Could you call me your pretty bird again?" She whispered after a beat, moving Tira's hand to her narrow waist. She couldn't believe her boldness, and couldn't believe how quickly she'd adapted either.

Tira faced her head on. 

Tira's heart shaped face was framed by long, silky tresses that stuck to her cheeks from the humidity, her large top bun crowning her head in its giant coil. Her long lashes were beaded with water, and her brown eyes glimmered like quartz. The whole image affirmed in Angie's head that her stage name "Empress" was no accident.

"Oh really, you want me to call you Pretty bird?" she sang. She leaned in, and when Angie didn't pull away, she placed a quick, wet kiss on Angie's lips. "Mmm" she licked her lips as if she'd tasted like candy. "Such a pretty bird, my imouto-chan is." She kissed her again. "My pretty, pretty…"

Another kiss, and this time Angie didn't let her pull away.

The women's bodies pressed together in the water, fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle. They drew together like magnets, their soft flesh spreading the oil along each other's skin in ferver as their tongues fought for control in each other's mouths. They haphazardly found their rhythm, Angie's core softening like molten lava at the feeling of Tira's slick treading her thigh.

"God yes~" Tira sighed against her ear as she massaged the girl's breasts on the pool's surface, taking special care around her sore nipples. "You've gotten so bold, noirette." She rubbed the mounds against her own.

Angie whimpered into the hollow of her neck as she licked and bit and kissed her as deep as she dared. She pressed the woman down onto her thigh and rocked, feeling her desire finally begin to flow.

"Onii-chan~" she whined at the feeling of Tira's fingers stroking the base of her wings. She arched her back in pleasure . "T-that feels so- ah!"

"Calling me that right now is dangerous, princess" the woman growled into her open mouth before assaulting it with her own, more hungry, more thirsty than before.

"Ah!" Angie gasped for air in the few gaps the kiss left her to breathe.

Tira ducked below the surface, slurping the girl's peaks into her mouth in one greedy gulp, never slowing her rhythm as she rode her thigh. Instead, she let her legs slide between her own, and let Angie borrow her friction. 

Angie cradled the woman's face in her hands as she suckled her, the pleasure sensors in her nipples sighing in sweet relief. She reached around to grab her ass, gripping the pillowy mounds against her as if for dear life. Tira watched her pupil's desperation build through lowered lashes.

"Brlrbrlm?"

"Hm?" Angie wondered if it was the water muffling Tira or her own thoughts.

Breaking the surface once more, she threw her arms around Angie's neck and pulled her close, letting the water help glide Tira back and forth against the girl's cunt.

"I said, do I feel like you imagined, sweetie?"

Tira peered into Angie's swimming gaze as the girl nodded dreamily. She giggled.

"Tira~" 

"Hm?"

"I'm g-gonna-"

"Awe, already?" She slowed, rolling her hips with the water. "I'm flattered."

She felt the girl shudder from the pleasure. A string of light curses escaped her delicate lips as she pressed Angie against the tub for more pressure, watching closely as her face contorted in desire. She felt the girl trying her best to hold out as she stroked her, and couldn't help but find it adorable.

Angie watched her back in awe with heavy lids as her teacher floated in her vision. Tracing Tira's figure with painstaking adoration, she reached up, tiredly, and thumbed the woman's nipples, lapping them with her tongue as she maintained what she knew would look like doe-eyed wonder. 

Tira's breath hitched, and Angie knew it worked when the woman bit her lip and leaned in to kiss her, deep. She pulled back, looking as though she wanted to devour her.

"God, Angie, is this why those boys are so crazy about you?" She punctuated the question with peck to her nose. "No wonder all these grown men want you. To take good care of you like this."

Pouting, Angie leaned up to graze her jaw with her lips. 

"You're better than any man," she sighed, planting kisses down her neck. She felt, more than heard, Tira moan.

"Awe, sweet baby~"

Smiling, Tira twirled two fingers on the surface of the murky water before using them to gently nudge her thighs aside and access her trimmed pussy.

Teasing her lips apart, Tira inserted them inside, laughing throatily as Angie sucked them in with ease.

"Ngah!" Angie sank down on the digits, rutting against them as they beckoned her forward. She couldn't understand her own thoughts outside of the coil of her teacher's fingers. Dribble poured from her mouth as Tira switched positions, spreading her mount to entrap both of Angie's thighs. 

"This makes you tighter, noirette" she hummed, as if it were a simple lesson in mathematics.

"And this-"

She bounced as she fingered her, the water pressure popping against Angie's clit as it splashed her opening. She cried out at the dual sensations.

"-is how you take advantage of your environment." She nuzzled her cheek, and began sucking on her earlobe.

"H-how are you fucking me with the water?" She gasped, throwing her head back until she saw the steamy ceiling floating above their lustful bubble.

"There's lots of things I can fuck you with, imouto-Chan" she giggled.

The giggle was choked off when Angie dipped forward and forced entry into her mouth, swallowing her lips with a ferver Tira hadn't known she'd had. For a moment they were both under the water, unable to breathe and barely caring. When they broke the surface again, Tira forced Angie to face the wall as she pressed into her ample ass, rebounding off of its ripples until pleasure throbbed in her core.

"Fu-uck!" Angie wailed, gripping the wall. Tira gasped in time with the laps of the water.

"Ah, ah, fuck, little bird…damn you feel like dough…"

With one hand holding her waist in place against her, Tira worked her hand around to Angie's slit, working her fingers in and out of her tightening hole. Angie leaned into her, her hand finding Tira's between the folds of her thighs. She forced her teacher deeper, coaxing a ripple of pleasure through her core.

"Unh~ Tira! " She whined, her cheek pressed flat against the side of the hottub. 

"Yeah?" Tira bit into her neck as she ground herself into her prodigy's plump ass.

Angie surrendered to the feeling of Tira using her body for her own pleasure, doubling over when she felt her teacher take hold of her hips.

"Fuck me, sensei" she whined, "Please?"

"You want me to fuck you baby? You want me to show you how to fuck a woman?" 

"Y-yes," she pleaded.

Angie craned her neck so that she could taste her lips one more time, and found Tira's mouth waiting eagerly for just that. Her teacher slowed, riding her ass in languid strokes as their tongues coiled into each other's mouths. Angie couldn't hold on another moment. She squeezed her thighs together, trapping their fingers, and squirting against her sensei's insistent touch. She gasped into her open mouth, and Tira held her there until she finished.

"Finger me," she purred, licking Angie's essence from her manicure. Angie quickly obliged.

Backing Angie to the wall, Tira rode her pupil's fingers on her own, bobbing in the water as she played with her own stiff peaks. 

As she bobbed, the water lapped across the tub, creating ripples that made the low-lights dance. Angie could see nothing but Tira's slender back, but felt her pleasure in every cell of her form.

Angie felt her own pussy contract again as Tira finally made herself come on her flexing fingers, casting a glance over her shoulder at her student's awed expression.

Tira slowed, holding the digits to her stiff clit as she pursued an even higher peak, forcing Angie to watch her get her nut. Angie couldn't look away.

She wailed as she came again, and again, her eyes rolling as she pinned Angie to the wall. 

"Gah!"

The woman heaved as she slid into the space between Angie's arms, finally resting in the crook of her neck as pleasure broke against their balmy skin. They let themselves stay there for a while, limbs tangled, before one of them finally spoke.

"Fuck." Angie murmured.

Tira pecked her cheek once, then twice. Lingering by her ear, she licked the crown playfully as if she was only getting started. That is, until she pulled away, and floated to the edge of the pool, giggling.

"Wow." Was all Angie could muster.

Tira smiled.

"Mmm. Indeed." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night finally arrived. 

Gojo and Geto stood across from one another on the train as it sped them toward their instructed destination, the Tokyo City Concert Hall. The car was full of salarymen, no doubt on their way home for the night, completely oblivious to the threat that either boy posed to them, or the protection they provided- but what else was new.

The pair found themselves huddled in the farthest alcoves of the rounded train they could get, away from the bustling crowd that would likely ignore them anyway, hoping the sway of the carriage muffled their words.

"I feel like something is up tonight." Geto muttered, half to himself.

"You, me, and the whole dorm. I mean,"  Gojo motioned to the suits the pair had donned in preparation for the night, "who wears these to a booty call?"

Gojo had dressed sharply in a three piece black and alabaster suit, pressed, tailored, and detailed for the night at Tira’s request. He wore a black button down and blazer jacket that matched his hair, the lapels held in place on either breast with blue sapphire pins that had been awarded to him by the Gojo clan at his 16th birthday ritual, marking his maturity and blood connection to the clan. The material of the suit emphasized the bulk he usually obscured in his dark, boxy school uniforms, his broad shoulders and trim waist making the suit look more as if it were wearing him than vice versa. 

Besides the suit, he’d hidden his eyes behind a pair of dark shades a grade nicer than his usual pair, their construction made from carved wood rather than metal, stenciled on the sides with his initials. His cufflinks caught the mechanical light of the train and winked every time he moved, their ore immutable genuine silver. The same was true of the small blue gem he wore in one ear, which Geto had never seen him wear before that night. The only thing about the boy that was recognizable was the tuft of tussled cloud-white hair that sat atop his head.

“When did you get your ear pierced?”

Gojo muttered. 

“Huh?”

“...Mei said it would look good on me.”

Geto scoffed. “Well earrings are my thing so don’t you dare-”

“Dare what? Outdress you?”

The dark haired boy smirked. No way was Gojo outdressing him in that monkey suit.

Geto had cleaned up just as well, his own scarlet and charcoal suit ironed down to the creases the way his mother had shown him, crisped from the top collar to the cuffs of his sleeves. His red satin button down matched the pocket square (which he almost hadn’t found in time) in the lapel of his dark suit, and his black tie had been pinned into place beneath a gold clip with the emblem of a dragon- a gift from his grandfather, as if he’d known about his powers in advance. 

That night, he’d exchanged his usual metal ear gauges for a pair of onyx disks that he’d bought specially for the occasion, and they glinted from his ears with a subtle glossy depth that made him look mysterious. 

Rather than precious jewelry, he’d opted for a more down to earth vibe with black volcanic beads encircling either wrist, stacked around his favorite vintage watch. His black nails had been freshly cleaned, painted, and trimmed.

Finally, not knowing how he should do his hair, he’d opted for his usual clipped bun and bangs, sweeping them away from his face as neatly as he could muster.

“I’ll admit, you look clean, but you look like you’re going to prom.” Gojo shrugged, playfully.

“And you look like you're putting Nana Gojo to rest.”

This stop is Shinjuku City- I repeat, Shinjuku City. Please watch your step. 

The boys ducked under the low- hanging sign to the station’s entrance as they stepped onto the street. They looked left and right, trying their best to not look like fish out of water. 

“I don’t suppose you know how to get there?”

“You went on map quest, right?”

The boys blinked at each other, and face palmed.

This was gonna be a long night.

After a long trek through the darkening streets of Tokyo, as well as several sets of bad directions, Gojo and Geto finally found the grand old building that was to host the variety show that they'd anticipated since Tira's call. 

With the block out front as packed with tough customers as any club, the opera house stood to be used that evening as a cooperative territory for underworld-goers and their business. The boys watched the building light up just as the last light of the day fell, its red carpet unfurled in preparation for the guests that would be stepping through the door any minute.

The large windows of the modern relic stood tall and wide, propositioning onlookers to look into them as if they were the building's eyes. Beyond them was the shimmer of multiple chandeliers, golden wallpaper, and a ceiling painted to put the sistine chapel to shame.

Geto whistled in appreciation. This was where they were meeting them? His thoughts of the weeks before replayed in his mind, where he'd asked Angie on a date after they'd…. 

Well, if this was the first date, what would the second look like? Did this even count as a date?

"Satoru?"

"Yeah?"

"What exactly did your connection intend with us when she asked us to attend this event and- quote- 'bring all the cash in our sock drawer'? "

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"And why don't I get to meet her?"

"She said that she wasn't available to me tonight, but that she wanted to proposition me on something. I don't know. She plays games like this a lot, but this is the most elaborate one yet."

"And why was I involved?" Geto cocked his head, half concerned, half amused.

"Hm. Well she said something about a game that would take both of us? And she obviously knows who you are by name, although…not sure how…" he trailed off, realizing just how little he knew about what Tira had planned for them that night.

"Uhhhuh…and what's stopping me from getting back on the train, Satoru?"

"Because I know she'll be here tonight." Gojo smirked. 

Geto's face fell, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, don't give me that,'' Gojo nudged him, "she hasn't responded for weeks again, but all of a sudden she did, right? And now you decide to step out with me, because you invited her, right? I'm not as stupid as my last final made me seem, Suguru."

"Well," the dark haired boy grimaced, rubbing his neck even more harshly as if trying to set it ablaze, "you're actually right, minus a few details…" 

"Suguru?"

Geto had stopped his 5am run to respond.

"Raven!"

"Hello! Sorry, can't talk long, or ill get caught. I know this is odd, but will you come to see me dance?"

"Yes! Of course, why would that be weird?"

"Because your friend with the glasses will be there too. The one you were looking for when you…found me"

"...oh. uh, sorry. Why?"

"Because it turns out that I… service him too…and my mentor is putting my services up for auction. Please be sure to win me. See you soon."

The conversation had raised more questions than answers, but after speaking to them both, Suguru knew that whatever the game was, he needed to win.

Geto's jaw muscles worked as he watched Gojo talk absentmindedly about how tight his blazer was on his shoulders. He watched the white haired boy closely, as if seeing him again for the first time.

Traitor.

Woah. Where had that come from?

Gojo turned and was caught off guard by the look in Geto's dark eyes. 

"Woah, man, you okay?"

Suguru averted his gaze. "Yeah, just nervous about seeing her, like you said."

"Well she better get here soon, we're about to head in."

The boys had finally made it to the front of the line, and knew from the moment they'd made eye contact with the doorman that they weren't getting in without a fight.

"Card carriers only" he sneered at the boys down his long, slender nose. 

"That's funny, I believe I carry a card,"

Smiling warmly, Gojo slid his fingers into the folds of his wallet, and withdrew two things- his fake ID, and a black coated metal credit card that weighed far too much for its size. Geto had never seen him use it for anything more than a status symbol, but had a sneaking suspicion that its credit limit was as infinite as its owner's technique.

The Maitre D's eyes sparkled at the sight of the card, and after flicking his eyes between the small rectangle of privilege and the boy wielding it with bright blue eyes, he shifted his gaze to Suguru.

"And you, sir?"

Geto blushed.

Before Gojo could claim him as his companion, the sound of dozens of pairs of clicking heels echoed down the sidewalk, and the boys- along with the other sidewalk dwellers, party-goers, and opera house connoisseurs- turned to see where the sound was coming from.

The first impression of the performers was that of walking art. They moved as one in shimmering outfits, their various props bobbing on their swaying hips and in their slender hands. They looked neither left, nor right, but straight ahead as they bypassed the line of patrons that gawked at their enormous presence.

"Ah, here are the ladies of the auction now."

"Auction?" Gojo questioned, the boys' eyes never leaving the parade of forest nymphs, water lillied- fairies, and exotic looking interpretive dancers.

And among them, they spotted her at once.

Raven wore a black diamond mask, her high cheekbones and lips dusted in a purple-black shade that made her look fierce and siren-like in her expression. Her wings, sprayed in a glittery sheen that made them look like a night sky full of stars, were on full display behind her, catching the attention of every onlooker that had dared to watch her. However, it wasn't just her anthropomorphic traits that had arrested attention.

The girl wore a shortened kimono that had been modified to her shapely body, the hem likely only extending an inch beyond her finger tips.

The thin veil of fabric was imprinted with white cranes and flowers throughout its tight coverage of her rounded hips and bust, rippling with extra fabric in places only to mimic waves on pitch-black water.

Further accentuating her figure was a large black- satin ribbon, encircling her torso and exploding in a bow off of her perky ass, with several strings of tinsel and black coins that protruded from it creating music in time with her walk.

And her walk; she strutted in time with the other dancers on her long, shapely legs, her more-sheer-than-sheer stockings making it look as though her thick thighs had been stuck with precious gems, embedded into her smooth mocha skin as if by magic. 

Her black heels clicked as she marched forward, her hands hidden in the long sleeves of the kimono- the only thing about it that was modest. 

In all her glory, Raven looked like a cross between a porcelain doll and a fallen angel, one that had been brought to life to seek revenge on her maker.

As if feeling their eyes on her, Angie's gaze flitted to the boys at the front of the line, just as she was about to enter the venue. They'd been frozen to the spot by her entrance.

Feeling a swell of pride, she continued to strut and avoid drinking in their looks- there would be time for that later.

That is, until she saw that the bouncer had stopped them at the door.

The girls turned at once to face the crowd, immediately catching the interest of everyone in line.

The parade of women clapped rhythmically three times, before raising their hands, and bowing deeply.

"Meshiagare!"

They repeated themselves in several languages for their foreign guests.

"Bon appetit! Please enjoy!"

And with that, they filed into the venue as fluidly as swans.

"Sir, these are my personal guests." Angie broke from the line of girls and approached the man as the rest of the performers entered, applause at their backs from the line of patrons that had watched their entrance.

Taking the maitre d's elbow in her taloned forefinger and thumb, she stood until the man brought his ear to her lips.

"Empress' request."

"Ah," the man nodded, infinitely more agreeable with her than he'd been with the two boys.

"Follow me." He said, " I have special instructions for you two."

Geto and Gojo shared a look of ultimate confusion, but- to Gojo's disappointment and Geto's painful chagrin- Raven had left in a plume of black ribbon and glitter without sparing them a second glance.

When the boys entered the venue on the trail of yet another host, they couldn't focus their eyes on anything ahead of them; all their attention was reserved for the ceiling, walls, and extremely lively crowd.

The crowd was made up of men and women from several countries and nearly all walks of life- human, half human, or otherwise. The cursed energy they felt wafting from the party goers was almost enough to make them defensive, but was still jovial enough to make them feel at home.

Men in blazers stood in huddles, exchanged business cards, and even played miniature croquette in one corner of the room; their female counterparts floated about on their arms, nodding in time with conversation and punctuating sentences with light laughter.

Before they'd gotten their barings, the host turned to them abruptly at the center of the room.

"Which of you is Suguru?"

The dark haired boy raised two fingers in acknowledgement.

"Raven would like to see you in the hall. And you must be Satoru," the host half asked, half asserted.

Gojo raised his snowy brows expectantly.

"You will be helped shortly. Enjoy the refreshments."

Before Geto could exit, Gojo placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Raven?" He asked without facing his friend head on. "That's the name of the girl you're in love with?"

Geto worked to keep his expression neutral. "You know her?"

Gojo didn't respond.

"Be right back" Geto just short of spat.

Gojo watched him go from behind the sheen of his dark shades. He was unsure of just how much Geto knew, but was suddenly very sure that he wouldn't fail this intuition test, when it came to finding out.

A waitress stepped into his line of vision.

"Champagne?"

He hesitated before picking up a long-stemmed flute. He didn't usually need the courage, but he would tonight.

~~~~~

"Mmph!" 

Geto exclaimed when he felt the girl's lips on his the second he stepped into the shadowy alcove off of the main hall.

Separating from his mouth with a small *pop* the girl dug around in her dress until she'd uncovered what she was looking for.

"Here, hurry, take this." Angie shoved a small note card into his hand, glossy and folded over so that he couldn't see what was in it until he opened it.

"I have to explain-"

"Yes. Please."

"Will you let me?"

Geto blinked, his dark eyes trained on nothing but her. His silent answer was loud and clear.

"Okay. Open the card."

He flipped it open. It was blank, save for one thing.

Taped inside the card was a small, black coin the size of a checkers piece. It was waxy and grooved, and opaque as far as he could tell.

"That is the Bidder's coin. Well, no one is supposed to know which of my coins are bidder's coins," she motioned to the remaining coins that encircled her waist and bow, "because not all of them are. There are only three."

Geto's brow crinkled.

"Wai-"

"Not done. No time. As I was saying, this is a bidder's coin." She tapped the card.  "It means that when the time comes, at the end of the night, only those with coins like yours will be allowed to bid for me. It's supposed to be a game of chance, but I need you to win, so I delivered one straight to you."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't-" Angie's eyes were large, round, and wet- "you won't be allowed to see me again."

~~~

In the next room, Gojo had successfully downed two and a half flutes of champagne, and a shot of cognac that had been offered to him by a French sailor. Apparently the French had the best cognac.

"Vous aimez?" The sailor asked, winking.

Gojo shook his head and shrugged.

"I speak Japanese, sorry" he responded, half wondering if the man had really spoken another language, or if he'd already succumbed to the alcohol.

The sailor made an 'aha' nod of the head, and motioned as if taking a swig. He then put his thumbs up and raised his brows in a questioning sort of way.

"Ohh you asked if I like it. Yeah, thanks. I-its strong."

The sailor laughed, clapping a hand on his back. Gojo hoped he'd been understood, but when he was handed another shot, his shoulders sagged. He didn't know if he could handle any more. He was already breaking the rules of his clan- the very rules that had made him an unfortunate lightweight in the first place- and needed to figure out how to say 'no' in French.

The tinkling of a glass quieted the room, and all attention was drawn to a balcony that Gojo hadn't previously noticed was there. A suited man with a long lapel on his jacket, and a slicked ponytail with shaved sides, was clinking his glass with a fork.

"Ah, esteemed guests!"

Gojo scanned the room. All of the guests looked well dressed, but some of them were hardly esteemed by his standards. Some of them looked like bodybuilders that had been painted into suits. And was that the dragon gang in the corner-?

"It is a pleasure to see you all on this hallowed night. As we finish welcoming members from outside, I thought it would be an excellent time to make a toast!"

He raised his glass, and the crowd followed suit.

"To the owners of this opera hall, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts for allowing us to host our show- one of talent, valor, and prestige. 

To our girls, thank you for bringing us such a delectable assortment of entertainment to enjoy each year. You are truly the highlight of our dreary yearly toil. 

And to our donors, it is because of your generosity that we feast our eyes, stomachs, and souls on all that our little society offers.

Cheers!"

Gojo's jaw dropped. He would need to take some pointers from this man for his next public speaking class. 

He took a sip from the glass of cognac that had warmed in his clammy hand. At least, he thought he would take a sip, but the glass he drew back was empty. 

Ugh. I need to slow down.

"Now, for the rules of the night!" The man continued, his smile broadening as if the bubbles of his champagne had buoyed his spirit even higher than before.

~~~~~

"So here are the rules" Angie's tearful gaze had Suguru pinned to the wall.

Suguru swallowed fearfully. 

"Go on."

Angie gingerly grabbed at the coins looping her waist.

"These black coins will be distributed to the players on the floor. They are made of plastic and a special kind of wax."

~~~~~

"As the night progresses," the slick haired man boomed, " the wax will melt from the coin, and only plastic will remain. In order for it to melt, you must keep it warm in the palm of your hand."

~~~~~

"When the wax is gone, the other coins will be blank, but yours- and two others- will have a four leaf clover in the center when you hold it to the light."

Suguru held the opaque coin up, picturing the clover as if it had already been revealed.

~~~~~~ 

"And when it is revealed, at the appropriate time, you will ring a bell that will be stored beneath your seat. There will be three ringing bells tonight."

The man poured over the crowd with a sweeping gaze, languishing in the suspense.

"Then" he said finally, "and only then, will the bidding begin."

~~~~~

"And they will bid for me to serve them exclusively until the next game."

Geto felt like he was going to black out.

"Raven, what makes you think I can outbid anyone in there?"

"Because it's rigged. I'm not sure how besides this," she tapped the coin again, "but my sensei says that this is necessary for us to continue to see each other. I'm s-s-sorry-" Angie bit her lip.

"I promise it will be okay," she continued, "it's just that…well…I didn't know if you would do this for me."

Geto's stomach did a flip at the sight of the gorgeous girl on the verge of years.

"H-hey," he reached out a hand to sweep away one of her tears before it could streak her painstakingly applied makeup.

"Its gonna be okay. If this is what it takes, I'll do it. You did say that this was complicated for you, right? Let's make it uncomplicated."

He grabbed her hands in his and kissed them. 

"I'm gonna win. And when I do, you're gonna tell me your name, hm?"

The dark fae smiled.

"Deal."

~~~~~~~~

Gojo's attention was drawn to the door as it swung open to reveal Raven, but not his best friend. Raising a brow, he scanned the crowd to see if he could pick up his cursed energy, but it was nowhere to be found.

His eyes returned to Raven as she mingled with the crowd, the patrons bombarding her for a closer look, and eventually, a coin from her dress. She giggled as she swam her way through the thickening attention.

"Let her breathe!" The man called playfully from the balcony. "She still has to dance!"

Should I ask her where he went?

Still searching, he didn't realize he'd lost sight of the girl until she was tapping his shoulder.

"Gojo! You made it!"

He turned and looked down into her face, smiling.

"Angie!"

"Shhh! They can't know my real name here. Call me Raven."

Oh yeah, Raven.

"Want a coin?" She grinned, offering him a plastic disk from her dress.

"Uh, no, I don't think I'll be playing." He shook his head, making his vision blur for a moment. "I did want to ask you something though-"

“Are you Satoru?”

The pair turned to see yet another plain-vested host, this one with an odd birthmark in the middle of his forehead. 

“Uhh- why, yes, I am.”

“I have instructions to show you to your box ahead of the show.”

“Oh wow, box seats Gojo?” Raven’s eyes danced in delight. “You and your friend are gonna have some of the best seats in the house!”

Gojo’s brow furrowed, “Oh, wow. I didn’t even know I had those.”

The waiter shook his head. “Empress’ request.”

Damn, Tira, Gojo smirked, Little prince indeed.

“Oh, sure. Let me just get my friend-”

“Your friend has his own box.” The man quipped, matter-of-factly.

“Uh, oh, okay. Well, can I go find him anyway?”

“This will only take a moment, sir, then you can do as you wish.”

Raven nudged him. “I think Geto is in the alley just outside the back door, if you want to find him after. I have to go, but I really hope you guys enjoy!”

And with that, just like at the door, Raven disappeared with her ribbons streaming behind her.

Gojo grimaced. 

“Well, okay. Lead the way, my man.”

After several rounds of winding steps, Gojo was shown to a velvety box that already sat several other high-brow looking guests. Their chatter was light and stopped only when he entered. It was dark, so he couldn’t tell how many there were, but they all gawked at him as if he were the first entree of the night.

“Uh, hello.” He bowed.

He could tell by the chuckles that several of them weren’t japanese. A woman snapped open her fan and hid her face.

“Oookay.”

“Your seat, sir.” 

Gojo followed the tall, slender man to the banister that overlooked the venue, where a line of chairs waited. At the head of the line was a velvet chair, and on it sat an envelope with his name on it.

“Enjoy the show.” The host swept away.

Gojo scanned the chair before retrieving the card and turning it over. Attached to it was a small black coin, and a few words written in a gorgeous script that could only have been Tira’s.

“Fate finds those who do not choose their destiny, little prince.” he read aloud.

“Do with this what you will.”

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[teddybeartoji]

MICKEY MICKEY HIIIIIIII!!!! i want to ask about soooooo many of your selfships so i dont know where to start..

BUT I THINK FOR NOW orchid + ladybug for mizai!!! and polaroid for mikuna + miji (OR MIJIKUNA IF YOU WANT) !!!!! pretty please i want to hear about your favourite photo with the scrunkly bad at tech old men <333

HAI HAI HAIII SCAR MY ANGELLL:3333333333 THESE WERE SOOOOFUCKING GOODDD THEY ALL GOT ME KICKING MY FUCKING FEET OKAY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOIUUUU I'M ALL SAPPY NOWWW EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHHEHEHE

orchid ৻ꪆ what does your home look like?

MIZAI HOMEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAHHHHHH THIS IS SUCH A LOVELY QUESTIONN:((((((((((((( it's a pretty small apartment but to us it's perfect<333333333 we have windows in the bedroom and the kitchen and the living room this is important bc i love natural light okay aaand it's also important that you know that we have a bathtub. overall the place is just very very cozy, we rarely use any of the big lights bc we both fucking hate them lmao he lets me do most of the decorating (well he did move in with ME but yk), all of the posters are smth i picked out all of the trinkets and most of the figurines on the shelves are also smth i picked out but it's not like he doesn't care he just knows how much i like to collect stuff lmao even now too all of my walls are covered in pictures and i have a bunch of legos and stuff so he just lets me do whatever:33333333333

not really home decor but our closet is kind of all mixed up lmao we wear each others clothes a lot and so we just kind of let it all melt together into one big closet instead of two ones hehehhee

ladybug ৻ꪆ if they were to send a bouquet of flowers to your home, what kind of flowers would they send? and what would the notecard say?

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE DAZAI SENDING FLOWERS i'm gonna die that's so fucking cute!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tbh he'd send all types of flowers he likes to see what's new at the flower shop, what new bouquets they have bc he wants to surprise me yk? i'm pretty sure he just Knows all of the meanings of the flowers bc he's him and so he puts a lot of thought into that too<3333333333 oh and the note is rarely anything deep and long, it's mostly just smth like "for my beloved" and it has the most beaaaaaaaaaautiful heart next to it OR . it's just "for my babyboo" or smth hgasdgsadghashgdas he's so stupid sometimes (i love him sm i'm going to explode)

polaroid ৻ꪆ what’s your favorite picture of them? what’s their favorite picture of you?

MIJIKUNAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS THE BEST QUESTION FOR THEMM😭😭😭😭 okok so... i'm between two photos i really can't choose............. the first is one that i took after i came home and found them napping on the couch, legs all tangled up. sukuna was literally DROOLING and toji's shirt was riding up and it just looked so fucking funny and they were in some deep sleep too bc it took them a while to finally wake up and when they did they were so out of it😭😭 they both had these insane fucking pillow lines all over their faces and then they were moaning about their limbs being sore hgasdhgsadhgsagh goddd i love them sm

aaaand then the second one is one we took when we went to a spa together!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i took the pic after we had gone and done everything and were already back in our hotel room but we were all wearing these fancy bathrobes and i put a towel on sukuna's head the way ppl who have long hair wear it yk? 😭😭😭 and we all had face masks on and it was so ridiculous but so sweet idk it was our special little moment okay... the pic is literally just a mirror one with me standing between them but i love it i love it sooo so much<33333333

as for their favourites... look they really don't take a lot of pics okayhsadghashgdashgdghsahg and if they do they're all shaky and blurry BUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! who gives a fuck yk i love shaky blurry pics!!!!!! anyway toji's favourite is the one he managed to take when i was asleep cuddling with shrimy:(((((( i was knocked the fuck out, hand still on the cat bc i just wanted to keep petting him😭😭 aaand toji just happened to find us like that and so he took the pic aand he has that as his homescreen now too:333333333

aaand sukuna's favourite is actually a really cute one too, i wanted him to take a quick pic of me so i could send it to my friend but he ended up saving it for himself too hehehe it's me posing with a cup of hot cocoa at this lovely little cafe that's not too far from our place:3333333333 i asked him why that's his favourite one and he said that it's bc i look so biteable btw????????? that i look like a marshmellow?????????????? he's .. weird... i love him:3333333333

selfship asks:3333

[lazzarella]

Well, here we are! My last post of rambly notes about Wandee Goodday. It's been fun, but I don't think I'll do this for another show XD

- Here we go!

- even Great and his magnificent bosom can't make me interested in boxing, alas

- Oh. Ter actually came. Okay!

- Lol, they really don't need to pair everyone off or redeem everyone, but I'm not bothered either? That’s just peripheral to me

- Ahhh, Dee's pep talk was so cheesy! I love it!

- Well, that was obvious! (That it was Yak under the Nazgûl getup. He's a living Kermit meme!)

- imagine being able to punch the manifestation of your grief and trauma in the face to be able to deal with it??? Sign me up!

- Stop boxing and start smooching already!!

- (Dee and Yak. Not Yak and Mason lmao)

- Heyyyyy! TKO!

- "When it comes to Yak, I've never felt tired" Awww! Yei! :')

- Yak saying Dee believes in him more than he believes in himself was also kinda cheesy, but like... I don't care. That was so lovely!

- "This belt is yours" ;__;

- Ahhhh!!!! Seeing them in the ring together with Yak twirling Dee around while everyone cheers made my little heart nearly pop! Two men in love in a boxing ring with everyone cheering for them???

- IDK why Ter is happy about this now lmao whatever! I'm here for ROMANCE and I'm getting oodles of it

- KAO AND HIS BOO! YEAH, BOY!

- Ahhhhhh, they're ADORABLE!

- Talking about finding someone who understands you - yes! That's what it's about! That's what the whole show is about tbh

- lol, Dee wearing the belt! That's cute :3

- awww! Birthday cake! Dee's so cute and sweet <3

- "Who said I was playing?" SCREAMING!! My flirty Dee is back <333

- omg eating the cream off him fuuuuuudggggggge

- Oh! Now they're in bed lol

- how do they always end up on the floor after sex? What are they doing? Is this a normal thing to happen? (Seriously asking lmao)

- Dee has the sweetest smile omg

- "It feels like paradise to make love to the person I love" slfjsdkfjdsklfjsdlkfjdslkfjd

- "Let's celebrate" ... with soy milk! My favourite celebration drink!

- "I'm so proud that I get to take care of you" ahhhh! That's such a lovely thing to say!

- omg, Dee looked like he was going to cry about the necklace! D:

- Yak is so cute :3

- ahhh, another necklace kiss! God, I'm weak for those

- this is very asexuality 101 PSA but, like... How many shows even use the word asexual at all?? So, I don't care!

- ooh, I love the idea of Blue figuring himself out! That's cool to see too!

- (I'm honestly not mad that we didn't get more of Kao and Blue like I know a lot of others are, but I also wouldn't be mad to see their story in a spinoff. It won't happen, but I wouldn't be mad if it did)

- LMAOOOOO @ Golf banning Kao 🤣

- the whole montage with Dee talking to Gooddy about good days was nice! It's true, we can't have perfect days, but we can have good ones

- ahhh, Blue and Kao helping Golf do online dating!!

- "Good days are different for everyone" :D

- Ahhh! I love how Yak calls Dee's grandma his idol!!! Heeeee

- Aww, Inn is wearing his own clothing brand lol

- "You're an important person in my family" Ahhhh, yes!!!!

- Yak offering to smack Ter in the head lmaoooo good boy!

- THE OLD GAY COUPLE! ;__;

- ahhh! Yak asking if he and Dee will still be together and Dee saying yes or probably or whatever it was

- lol @ them arguing about who would turn whom over in bed if they're bedridden XD

- "Can we still have sex?" haha

- these hospital parties are always so sparse

- all of Dee's friends are wearing purple with him except Yak (nm, Yei was also wearing blue)

- this feels like a weird way to announce a scholarship to me but what do I know?

- the chanting feels unprofessional lmao I love it!

- and to no one's surprise, Dee won!

- omg! The other boxers are there too!!

- Is... Is it typical to crown scholarship winners in Thailand?

- and now Dee gets to give his thanks speech!

- this is longer than an Oscars speech XD

- oh, poor Yak! That's embarrassing but I saw that coming lol

- omg Dee's singing for Yak??? IDK if it's because I was so tired when watching this, or what, but it felt like a fever dream (in the best way possible)

- "Would you be my real boyfriend?" AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

- confetti! It's a parade!

- awww! They're ring bearers!

- Yak tearing up when Yei and Cher are exchanging rings ;__;

- legally married <3333

- ON HOLD?? What?? ...oh, phew, nm! That makes perfect sense and is totally IC for Dee, the silly boy!

- SEVERAL YEARS????? Damn. Okay, I can see why he'd think that was too long to wait for him tbh (I feel like we knew this but I forgot lol)

- "I love you, too" Wahhhhhh!!! Omg!!! I cried!!! YES!!!

- god this scene is GORGEOUS! The colours and their talk and the beach!!!! I always love a beach scene so I'm glad BLs have so many of them <333

- VANILLA? How very dare you, Yak :P

- time for sex on the beach!

- HAVE A GOOD DAY! Haha, love it!

- that's the perfect ending!!! What a lovely final image!!

- ...oh, I was waiting for a credits scene XD

- seriously, though, that last crane shot of them on the beach was truly the perfect image to end on <3333

What a lovely show this has been! It really brightened up my week, and I can't wait to watch it all over again! <333

[neaverse]

literally all of your wips have enticed me but please tell me about the curious mind of a killer and a love for the novels (the sun and the stars) !!

Oh my god, thank you🥺 The curious mind of a killer is a drarry fic that has been living rent-free in my mind for quite some time now. Draco works in the DMLE as a forensic pathologist and has a year of Auror theory (law) under his belt. A lot of mysterious deaths are happening and the killer is untraceable. Robards (the head Auror) asks— read demands— Draco to come work for him on the case. Help him track the bastard down.

Draco and Harry are already dating in this fic and they both work in the DMLE. Harry is an Auror (I usually don't like this occupation for Harry but it's needed for this fic) and he works with Draco on this case.

The worst part is that the killer doesn't seem to go for the same type of victim twice. They're all different ages, genders etc— so there seem to be no motives behind these murders. There are no magical traces, no fingerprints or footprints, no clues— nothing. This fic is gory, violent and it's fucking with my mind— I don't know what else to say about it.

Excerpt:

On the morning of April 26th, two witches in their mid-twenties are found murdered in their home just outside of London, with string-like wounds around their necks and hearts on the floor beside them.

A week later, the body of a middle-aged wizard is found in an alley a few blocks away from the Leaky Cauldron with the exact same wounds.

Then, in late May, three young men are found dead in three separate rooms at the Three Broomsticks. With the same wounds.

“Another one,” Robards grumbles as he shoves a case file across the desk.

Draco looks down at the file in front of him, then he reaches for it. He skims through the case— they are all the same so far— and then he shuts it. “This is the sixth,” Draco notes, gaze landing on Robards. “How have you not caught this bastard yet?”

A love for the novels is a fic I started writing last year. Idk how to properly explain it tbh.

After taking the killing curse to his chest, James wakes up in a room and sees Regulus waiting for him. They walk through the halls, and get to see a glimpse of how their lives could've been, had they chosen differently. It's a lot of missed opportunities, both emotional and happy and just. Idk, a lot?

They see themselves getting married and have children in one. They see Regulus surviving and mourning James in another. They see themselves growing old, travel the world, James joining Voldemort for Regulus, Regulus joining the order etc.

Each life plays out and we see it exactly how it would've happened if they made different choices, however big or small. But no matter what they choose, Regulus and James happen. They always find each other. In every life, in every universe— it's them. Always them.

And most of the lives they see are very very lovely<3

Excerpt 1:

In a different lifetime, Regulus Black and James Potter might have made it. The poets would say it's a tragedy what happened to the two young lovers, one forced into the dark and the other fighting a battle that should not have happened. Perhaps their story will end up making it into romance novels; two star-crossed lovers and a hundred different lifetimes worth of disaster and deaths. Perhaps, in another lifetime– an alternate universe– they returned from Troy hand in hand. Or maybe, there was no war at all. Just life and a thousand little moments filled with love and chaos and joy. Perhaps it's just them, the way it all could've happened if they had chosen differently.

Excerpt 2:

There are pictures of him and all of his friends. His found family. James knows he's dead already, and he halts in front of the picture of Sirius and Remus, the two of them holding hands as Remus leans in to whisper something in Sirius’ ear, which makes Sirius go all red.

“I'm sorry,” James mumbles at the moving frame. “Take care of Harry and Lily for me, will you?”

[agonycrossbow]

I'm pretty confident in saying that anyone in my generation who slaps "siblings" on Leon and Ashley are probably people who have another ship and have had it for a while and don't want Ashley getting in the way of it, tbh LMAO

Like.... my generation has co-opted the current generation's vernacular, but make no mistake about the kind of bitches we are. We're ship war bitches. That's all we've ever been AND WE ARE NOT GOING TO CHANGE OUR WAYS NOW fjdskfh

But if we're talking about the current generation...

Media illiteracy is a big factor in this. It's no secret to anyone that the US education system took a massive shit starting in the late aughts/early 2010s, and things like critical reading skills aren't being taught in schools anymore.

I graduated high school in 2007. Two years later, I went back to visit an old English teacher to get a letter of recommendation, and he was lamenting to me that he'd just given up. It wasn't worth trying to explain the deeper themes of Beowulf to kids who didn't care, because the only thing that mattered was getting them to pass standardized tests.

So, now, without an overt, explicit declaration of love or something visually concrete like a kiss, kids literally do not have the skills to parse through a text and pick out themes and tropes and use of symbolism and imagery. They were never taught how to do it.

But there's a more culture-based thing happening here, I think. It's this fucking mess of a cocktail of internalized misogyny paired with learned helplessness, social anxiety, intense sheltering possibly exacerbated by the pandemic shutdowns, peer pressure, and internet purity culture.

I think it's pretty safe to say that fandom is predominantly made up of women and teenage girls. That was true in the 60s in Star Trek fandom, it was true in my generation, and it's still true today. And what I've seen happening today is that young women are absolutely terrified of their own sexual agency -- because the internet keeps telling them that, if you're under 18, it is wrong and bad and unacceptable for you to engage with anything even remotely sexual and how dare you express your sexuality -- and you'd better not do it not just because it's wrong and bad, but also because you are GUARANTEED TO BE PREYED UPON IF YOU DO. SEX IS DANGEROUS ALL OF THE TIME AND YOU'RE LITERALLY TOO YOUNG AND TOO STUPID TO UNDERSTAND ANYTHING SO DON'T TRY TO EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. Because if you're 17 and he's 18, he's a pedophile!!!!!!!!

I just.

So, we've now basically turned an entire generation of young women into the same type of young women who created the BL genre in Japan. These are women who were too afraid to explore their sexuality on their own, and it felt safer to do it with two male characters, because it was always more "okay" for men to be sexual. This is happening here in the West, now.

Slash ships have always been a thing in the West, but not to the degree that they are today. In today's fandom, if you have an M/F ship at all, you are outnumbered by at least 3:1 -- because M/M just "feels" safer for a lot of the current generation.

So, I think young women look at the Remake portrayal of Ashley Graham, and they identify with her. A lot. They're probably around her age, and her personality is very relatable to the kind of girls who play video games. Ashley's clearly introverted, but she's a fast learner who just wants to help, and she's got a good heart and a weird, kind of awkward sense of humor.

And, not only do these girls identify with Ashley, they're probably thirsty as fuck for Leon.

But that's terrifying to them.

Because they have been taught to fear their own sexual agency. The idea that an attractive, traditionally masculine, older man would be romantically or sexually interested in them is immediately categorized in their brains as wrong and bad -- and they don't want to think of Leon in that way.

So... for them, it can't be romantic. It can't be sexual. But there's clearly something there, but Leon would never abuse or prey on anyone so... that bond must be a perfectly innocent familial affection. That's what it is. That's what it has to be, because anything else forces them to face the uncomfortable reality even young women like them go on dates and have sex -- and sometimes, it's with men like Leon.

So, they thirst over Leon at a safe distance through Luis, primarily. Or they self-indulge on reader fic, because that's so much easier to write off as "just a fantasy" and not a statement on who Leon actually is as a character.

And it's just kind of sad, man. It sucks to see this happen to an entire generation of young women.

That's why I don't really get mad when I see the "siblings" shit out in the wild. I just feel sad for those people -- because they can't just say "I don't like the ship." They're so insecure and neurotic that they have to think of a reason why the ship is literally impossible to ever happen so that they don't have to be worried about it.

One day, they'll finally suck a dick for themselves and learn that it's not that serious. It's really fuckin not. Dicks are stupid, and the boys that are attached to them are even dumber.

[elcorhamletlive]

no one asked but here are some of my thoughts on the one piece live action show

the things I didn't like:

Nojiko not knowing about Nami's scheme and plan. I get that it was probably a way to raise the odds and emphasize Nami's loneliness, but to me it cheapened their relationship and took away one of the most touching moments in the manga, when the reason for Nojiko's tattoos is revealed.

humorless, stoic, sexy man Zoro. of all the characters it was the one adaptation that didn't work for me, and Zoro is one of my favorites so it was a bit frustrating. the actor gives a good performance, but whereas the rest of the crew is a perfect translation of their manga selves to the screen, Zoro feels like a fundamentally different character. which is unfortunately because the mix of goofiness and badassery is what makes Zoro so engaging. here's hoping that he's allowed to emote more in season two.

in a similar vein as the previous point, I wasn't a fan of all the "Zoro and Nami exhasperated over Luffy" scenes. imo making Zoro so mature changed the dynamic of the crew and made his relationship with Luffy ring a bit hollow, even when the show wanted me to be emotionally invested in their bond.

Mihawk's introduction makes him come across as way less of threat than in the manga. I get cutting Krieg because they had less time and ultimately I don't think it was a massive loss, but having Gin show up destroyed and hyping Mihawk up is sooo much more effective than just showing him in the middle of a battle.

Nami was also a bit too serious for my taste, but I'll chalk that up to East Blue being when she's still not fully comfortable with the crew yet.

this is the most nitpicky annoying thing but. Arlong was too small. like obviously realistically speaking the actor is jacked but he does not give off the same threatening air that he does in the manga when he's towering over everyone.

the things I liked (most of it!):

from a plot perspective I think they were very smart and strategic about what to cut, they managed to trim everything to make it fit in eight hours and it worked. having Koby and Helmeppo throughout the season was a great way to keep the story from feeling too episodic, and they're both really well cast and I loved watching them. They are in love

removing the jokes on Alvida's appearance: yes. Overall I think they did a good job translating the humor, keeping the absurdness and silliness while also removing what wouldn't fly very well in live action.

Luffy should have been Brazilian but Iñaki Godoy is truly a finding, his performance is top notch and I can't imagine anyone else playing the role. Also in the "might have been created in a lab specifically to play their role" category are: Jacob Romero (there was not a second Usopp was on screen that didn't fill my heart with joy), Craig Fairbrass, Peter Gadiot, Aidan Scott.

special bullet point for Buggy because yeah. you have already heard that but my god he is THAT GOOD. SO much fun to watch.

another special bullet point for Taz Skylar. I didn't mention him in the list above because I guess you can say that technically Sanji is significantly different in the LA than in the mange, but tbh the change was for the better. amping up his charm and giving him a wannabe womanizer vibe was the perfect choice. his chemistry with Zeff was amazing (that one second in which they're fighting and you can see Sanji mouthing along to what he's saying because they've had this fight so many times before? CINEMA). their goodbye broke my heart.

Baratie might have been my favorite arc. and it's a really good arc in the manga so I'm amazed by how much they got it right.

Usopp/Kaya kiss!!!

obsessed with the absolutely random flirting between Zeff and Garp. old men yaoi stays winning

Koby and Luffy's hug was everything I didn't know I needed. also Koby getting drunk. just... Koby.

usually I'd find "omg they did it exactly like the manga panels" kind of a meaningless compliment but the scene where Nami asks for Luffy's help hit me like a brick. it was perfect.

their vows at the ending of the season gave me chills. Watching this show was so much fun and made me relive the excitement this story gave me as a child; a lot is said about an adaption having to capture "the essence" of the original which is of course super vague, but however you interpret it, I think it happened here. This show has so much heart and passion and is just a joyful, fun thing to experience. I can't wait for next season

[sga-owns-my-soul]

For the ask game A, C, F, H, U

ooh good ones! this one got a little long lmao whoops 😂

A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.

i'm obsessed with a mcshep queer platonic relationship (aroace!john and bisexual!rodney for the win tbh) and a ship i've been thinking about a LOT lately is ronon and woolsey idk why i just. idk that scene in the prodigal at the end where ronon is like 'i know it's not a mission but i made a report' and woolsey laughs at 'michael tried to invade the city. we stopped him. end report' BABES THEYRE SO CUTE

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will.

john/teyla. i just. i can't. the ONLY time i like it is ot4

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?

19 years and counting babey!!!! i've been watching stargate since it came out (i was 6 years old!) and i've been a fan of it since i saw the first episode. fun fact i had a little "club house" in a small storage room in our basement when i was a kid and i PLASTERED the walls with art and posters that said "I LOVE _______" with all of the sga characters when i was like 7? 8? something like that?

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., TV shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)?

i've been in fandoms for lots of different things but i think my favourite is probably tv shows/movies. i just love me some good cinema

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

absolute all time fav blorbo of forever is Doctor Rodney McKay PhD PhD he always has been he always will be forever and always he owns my heart. i love everything about him- he's smart, he's canadian, he's arrogant, he's hot, he's funny, he's competent, he's an asshole, he's selfless and heroic, he's literally everything. i'm actually genuinely in love with him i would give up my entire life if he asked me to zero hesitation no questions asked

i know it says three different fandoms but i'm also going with john sheppard even tho it's the same fandom bc those two are just so far above the rest in terms of being my fav characters that i can't not include him. john is a disaster human and i love him. i'm like, 95% sure my obsession with putting my friends first and making sure they're happy and comfortable (even at the detriment to my own happiness and comfort) above all else is because of john sheppard. he's selfless, he's reckless, he's charming, he's funny, he's smart, he's hot, he's perfect he's everything i'm obsessed.

and then last i'm gonna go with nick miller from new girl bc (no surprise) i have a Thing for grabage broken men. i fell in LOVE with nick when i was watching new girl for the first time he's such a fucking disaster he's a middle aged drunk who doesn't know what he's doing with his life for half the show and he's so FUCKING HOT IM OBSESSED god i just hnnnnng ugh he's everything honestly i love me a scruffy middle aged garbage man so good always

[mickmundy]

Quastions

Vampire medic. how long has he been living where he does? does he like Any other vampires? If he does, how do they feel about his new... employee? friend? whatever sniper is before they give in to The Gay

does sniper have other hunter friends, or merc friends? how do They feel about medic?

How did Sniper get into this business, and all the way to (Germany?)

What weaknesses, strengths and powers do vampires in this world have?

OMG YEAS... takes out my quill.... LETS GOOOOOOOOO

Vampire medic:

how long has he been living where he does? for a long time! he's traveled the world and comes and goes as he pleases, but there's no place like home. he's shacked up in a very nice castle that he... commandeered hundreds of years ago. he loves it! does he like Any other vampires? hmmm.,., i'd say there's a few he... gets along with, but he doesn't particularly seek out their company. it's complicated! HEHE... If he does, how do they feel about his new... employee? friend? whatever sniper is before they give in to The Gay they aren't even remotely surprised that medic has hired someone to hunt and kill his enemies for him. medic loves getting his hands dirty but sometimes it's more trouble than it's worth if he carries it out himself ykwim! one of them is Very Amused by it though.., and the other is perhaps hoping his old flame has had a change of heart since they were together...! HEH.. sniper starts out as an employee, but they can't help but notice that perhaps medic has a bit of a crush on him and yet hasn't turned him, drained him or killed him yet! interesting! >:)

does sniper have other hunter friends, or merc friends? how do They feel about medic? sniper has a few other mercenary friends, but he's still very much a lone wolf. he travels alone and mostly communicates with his two other friends by telephone! that's just how he likes it though :)! and i'm not sure if they're going to meet medic, but if they do i think they'd trust sniper's judgement and would be happy for their friend! even if medic's Big Personality might put them off a little...!

how did sniper get into this business, and wind up in germany? tbh i think his backstory is pretty similar to "canon" sniper; grew up in the bush, loved big game hunting and sought bigger thrills so he became a mercenary! hunting men got a little boring after a while and he preferred his reclusive, non-committal lifestyle and retired from that to pursue hunting. as it turned out, he could combine mercenary work with his enjoyment of hunting by dabbling in the hunting of supernatural creatures! their existence is known to him and he's not surprised that vampires exist... but he is shocked at medic's employment offer! he winds up in germany after getting a call about some large, bloodthirsty wolves that have been plaguing a Certain Area (near medic's castle by a few miles) for a Very Long Time and nobody's been able to do anything about it. it's like they can't die and they just... keep coming! interesting... well, sniper's never backed down from a challenge (or the promise of a good paycheck)! >:) so off he goes!

What weaknesses, strengths and powers do vampires in this world have? hmm, so a lot of this is still being worked on in my mind BUT i think that older, more powerful vampires (like medic, for example) eventually develop a Signature Ability that might be relevant to their time as a human, their life as a vampire, or it could be completely random! i’m still heavily working on medic’s right now so i don’t want to say much, but it Does have something to do with his bond with wolves! Perhaps Hypothetically, another vampire’s ability could be to turn invisible, something that’s Very Rare and Unique, or just enhanced (on top of the Already Massive Amounts of) strength, speed, etc. not every vampire gets a Unique Gift and it’s usually only after they’ve been a vampire for a significant amount of time. this aspect is still heavily under development! and as it is only medic and two other vampires will have Set Unique Abilities! weaknesses are the sun, silver bullets and stakes! vampires are always very ready to combat such things though, so even weapons set to kill vampires will need to be wielded by an expert in order to stand a chance! vampires can feed off of any kind of blood, animal or human, but human is preferred. they have very keen senses of smell and hearing and possess super speed and strength! they can hear the heartbeats of those living folk around them and tend to run quite cold in terms of body temperature. it’s not unheard of for vampires and humans to get along, but for the most part, vampires prefer not having anything to do with humans unless they intend to make the human a vampire themselves! so it is Very Interesting to other vampires that medic is keeping a human vampire hunter around and does not seem to have any intention of turning him (despite sniper’s suspicions to the contrary)… hmm….!

[llimerrence]

also im playing my otome game, so some silly lil otome plots from this game that are my favorite. tbh im posting these cause they're ~fun~ and idk maybe y'all will get inspo just lets not rb this post k thanks

You inherit an old hand-mirror from your grandma, and it sucks you into a completely different world. & now you're a princess & u gotta get married

A sudden proposal to begin a false marriage starts your “married” life…but could this special arrangement turn into true love?!

You’re a normal college kid until the day you meet a prince. He invites you to a party with the princes of the six kingdoms The fate of their countries rests on these future kings’ shoulders Where will your romance lead the both of you?

We will guard and escort you to the palace, Your Royal Highness. You live an ordinary life in the country side. One day, you’re nearly kidnapped by mysterious men when five knights save you. You discover that you are actually a princess and thus, you begin your journey to your new kingdom with these handsome knights…

Working at Japan’s first hotel & casino, you stumble upon a black-market auction, and end up as one of the items for sale. “I’ll let you decide who buys you.” Five men place the winning bid, and now you’re completely at their mercy…

You work for a publishing house and decide to start living on your own. But a coworker’s in your new home?! “This is my house… but you could live with me.” When your new roommate hands you the key, your secret life together begins…

A special time for just the two of you starts at midnight. Your building is full of quirky guys! You didn’t want to have anything to do with them, but as talking out on the balcony becomes part of your daily routine… “Is it just me who looks forward to this every night?”

The prize is CEO in this Savage Wedding Game! You were just a typical office worker dreaming of a happy marriage. Now the company’s alpha males are proposing to you…?! Each tries to seduce you, all sharing one goal… Marry you… To become CEO! “This isn’t how I want to get married!” Or so you thought…

A brand-new apartment. And it comes with a butler?! You land a new job and finally start your dream life in Tokyo. …Until you open the door to your new place only to be face-to-face with five insanely attractive butlers! From those breezy smiles, who would have thought that they’d be like this…? A talented but duplicitous butler will melt your worries away…

Even after all these years, you haven’t forgotten about your first love. You try confessing your feelings to him, but he turns you down. Luckily the friends you grew up with are there to help mend your broken heart…until that night, when you become more than just friends…

“Your body, your very soul… Relinquish them to us.” The sudden appearance of beautiful demons foretells the end of your life. However, you’ve earned an extra ten days on Earth…just so long as you spend every remaining minute with them! You’ve made a deal with a devil, but can you fall for him, too?

[all-the-fun-of-the-cirkus]

the great album odyssey continues with neil young's harvest, an album i kinda expected to be lukewarm on and that i ended up, uh, being lukewarm on

this is a deeply strange album in context. it was a smash hit, catapulting neil to stardom. it had heart of gold, smash hit single. and the critics, uh, didn't really like it, and even hardcore fans tend to put it somewhere around the middle of a vast catalogue. why did it sell so well? i'm not smart enough to tell you. maybe neil was right, and people do wanna hear about love. this is, after all, the album borne from his newfound romance with carrie snodgrass. except it's not, really. that's all isolated to the first few tracks, the rest are just about whatever, in typical neil fashion

truth be told, though there's nothing on here as good as, say, tell me why, i think this is rather lesser than the sum of its parts. there's only one outright bad track (there's a world, which might actually be the worst song of his i've yet heard, pure schlock), but other than the last three tracks it feels really monotonous, which is odd given that objectively speaking, there's a world, old man and are you ready for the country don't really sound anything like each other. maybe they're just all midtempo, not particularly varied; if any album needed a sedan delivery it's this one. weirdly enough it sounds more monotonous than the live versions from massey hall and young shakespeare, and those albums only have two instruments! it doesn't help that out on the weekend, heart of gold, old man and alabama all have the exact same drumbeat

i think the live performances are the killer tbh. maid/heart of gold on young shakespeare is stunning, these versions are... alright? actually, i do really like heart of gold, i always appreciate straightforward prayer in rock music (i'm not even religious so idk why), and ben keith's slide guitar (he's actually the mvp throughout, and the real step forward from gold rush) is lovely and plaintive.

maid... well. this is a controversial one, so i'll step carefully; the orchestra does sound ridiculous, i can't argue. i really rather like the horn melody after "when life and love turn strange and cold," but whoever thought it was a good idea to include fuckin tubular bells had clearly been too hard at the wacky baccy. i waver back and forth on whether it's as sexist as its reputation; i think he's pretty clearly not saying all men need maids or anything, but if he's implying he wants carrie to be his maid, so to speak, that's certainly eyebrow-raising. this isn't, like under my thumb levels of misogyny, at any rate. the actual tune is very nice though, and the stripped-back live medley is gorgeous

beyond that this album sort of dithers around for the rest of its runtime. the end stretch is notable, i guess; alabama's not great but it's a burst of energy, needle is haunting and words would be the clear best song on the album (i love the contrast between the grungy guitar and the delicate piano and neil's wavery vocal) if there wasn't like a full minute or two in the middle where nothing happened. at any rate, it's a totally unexpected question mark to end with, and the only thing really pointing to the ditch trilogy

everything else ranges from "good, but" (old man, which actually would be a great song if it had a good chorus) to "meh, but listenable" (the title track, with the silliest line on the record in "dream up, dream up, let me fill your cup with the promise of a man"). actually the real problem with this album is that it's his least interesting set of lyrics yet. it doesn't really pull of his typical wry esoteric metaphor or a more straightforward emotional spiel, it's just kind of lyrics for the sake of having lyrics, and neil's normally better than that

look i hate writing about music by just going track by track and saying "this is good, this is less good," but in all honesty, this just... didn't leave enough of an impression on me to do otherwise. i was hoping to be able to construct a narrative between this (the romance album) and zuma (the breakup album), but this isn't even that about the romance. or maybe it is, and i'm emotionally illiterate. or it's just 4 am. at any rate, it's better than hawks and stars/bars, but not by much. fortunately the two unlistened to neil albums i have in reserve are harvest moon and trans, which i hope present some better opportunity for analysis

[al1x00]

⚠️CHAPTER 9 SPOILERS⚠️

OUCHH THE NIGHTMARE😭😭😭 WHY YOU GOTTA HURT ME LIKE THAT KATY?

Hobie letting himself be vulnerable with R is such a stark contrast to the beginning of OPIN. He would never, EVER, let any emotion slip past him, almost like he was afraid of having his feelings exposed, while now he allows himself to show just how much his traumas affected him and isn't afraid to cry in front of R. HE'S JUST A LITTLE PRECIOUS GUY LET HIM LIVE HAPPILY FOR ONCE

When R said the thing about desensitizing the horses to the ducks it reminded me of a video I saw about that but with a cat instead and it was one of the goofiest things I ever saw I swear😭 Imagine R and Hobie holding up the ducks to the horses while they go around in circles or some shit LMAOO

“It doesn't matter. We have forever now.” SJAKDJKBNAS I'M CRYING AND SCREAMING WTF THEY LOVE EACHOTHER SO MUCH I'M LITERALLY SOBBING.

OH MY GOD THE LETTERS?? I WOULD START CRYING ON THE SPOT TBH.

Also I love how they're both healing their emotional trauma together, all throught reassurements and making up for the time they lost together. They're always so gentle and understanding with eachother because they both just need that right now, to be at peace with eachother and take a quiet life.

“You said that last time and we didn't get anything done the whole day.” OH😳 KATY DOES THIS IMPLY WHAT I THINK IT'S IMPLYING?

“Maybe if we shave your head it might suit you.” BDAS HOBIE REFERENCE??? MAYHAPS?

KATY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DFDKNA SKDA I'M CRYING SO BADLY. NOT ONLY R'S "HUSBAND" SHOWED UP, BUT EVEN HICKS AND SHERIFF LEE? WTF DID THEY HAVE A "WORST MEN EVER" REUNION AND DECIDED TO GANG UP? LIKE WTF

You honestly made me hate Cross only with the first two words he said. I hate that man with my guts and I totally understand why R ran away from that place. He's not only egoistical, but so sure of himself he doesn't see the consequences of his actions and how cruel he is. Same with Hicks. I'm genuinely physically repulsed by them because anytime I read a line that refers to them I make a disgusted face

THEY'RE HORRIBLE I HOPE THEY HAVE A GRUESOME DEATH

YESS THE BITCH DIED YAYYY (Kinda sad R didn't get to kill her but happy anyway because now she has croaked🥰)

Also I'm so worried for Hobie and Clover too because if they really burned the house to the ground they killed Clover too because she was in there😭😭 MY POOR BABY LET HER LIVE

it's all fun and games until they kill the dog. That's where I draw the line tbh.

NONONONO DON'T TELL ME THAT SON OF A BITCH KILLED HOBIE KATY YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME I CAN'T HANDLE ANY SAD ENDINGS AFTER TF

ALSO THE PARALLELS BETWEEN THE DAY FIVE YEARS BEFORE WHEN HOBIE WAS BURIED UNDER THE OAK TREE AND IT WAS RAINING IN THAT OCCASION TOO? SO COOL HOW IT PARALLELS TO WHAT WAS HAPPENING NOW IN THE SOUTH

Also they're so cruel like, they burned R and Hobie's house to the ground, the very house they were finally living a happy life in, and then decided to try and bury Hobie RIGHT BEHIND IT? THAT'S HORRENDOUS.

THANK GOD HE'S ALIVE AND HICKS HAS A SHIT AIM OH MY GOODNESS I HAD A MINI HEART ATTACK FOR A SECOND

CLOVER MY BABYYY SHE'S ALIVE AND WELL AND HELPING HOBIE

AND FINALLY WE HAVE RIRI AND THAT OLD MEXICAN MAN TO HELP. God this chapter was a whirlwind of emotions, but I loved it so much just like all the other ones. Honestly I'm a bit sad the next chapter's gonna be the last but OPIN has been such a great fic until now and I can't wait to see what you got in store for the finale. As always you did an amazing job I LOVED IT I LOVED IT I LOVED IT THANK YOU KATY❤️❤️LYSM

By Hook or By Crook

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 11.2 k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW guns, CW food mention, CW suggestive, CW blood, TW violence, TW death, TW abuse mention, Wild west AU, Cowboy AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 9 >>> CHAPTER 10

Hobie's nightmares are few and far between now that you sleep beside him. But on the rare occasion that it haunts him, it's always horrific. His own mind betrays him, the fog of a nightmarish scene unfolds like theatre curtains; where you're the star, a bleeding, screaming star of the night. It always starts off with you in place of him. Hicks has you in his iron grip, while his men, men that you've known since you were a little girl taunt you with the same disgusting words they threw at him.

He can never forget how your face contorted into a horrified expression when you see Hicks brandishing the knife in front of you. All the while, Hobie stands there, motionless, in place of the same oak tree bearing your name. As if your fate is predestined, your own tombstone carved above the shallow grave they're about to throw you in. It happens just like how he remembered it. Hicks, your own uncle, slices your throat with a cackle; while rain pelts down upon you, drenching your lace dress, mixing in with your blood gushing out of your neck in waves. Thunder and lightning cracks above, and you're thrown into the pit where they bury you alive.

You try to claw your way out, nails digging into the dirt, staining your once soft hands. Gasping for air, Hobie is unable to look away— how could he when he stays rooted on the spot of your tree?

As the storm pours down, your lungs filled with dirt and rain water, he watches as you slowly lose the light behind your eyes; falling limp, chest completely frozen as you stare up at the night sky. Hobie tries to scream, desperately uprooting himself off the soil, but it's not enough. You lay there unblinking, dead before they could cover your whole body with the same earthly soil you once stood upon with him. The last thing you saw was the leaves dancing in the wind, the last thing you saw was him, unable to save you one last time.

You hold him in bed until the trembling stops, you'll hold him forever if need be. Hobie's embracing your middle, face tucked just above your ribs, hiding his red puffy eyes from you while you knead at his nape. Your other hand cradles his elbow, fingers drawing patterns on his skin to calm him down. With every sniffle, you squeeze him tighter against you, and love filled words spilling out of your mouth to comfort him further.

You've told him a hundred times before that it was just a nightmare concocted by his mind that was caused by the trauma he has experienced. But you know that he understands that it isn't real, but you'll tell him a thousand times more to ease his worries because he once told you that it helps. You'll do anything to support him, and maybe one day his nightmares will finally fade away. Until then, you'll hold him and keep him grounded to the present.

His silent sobs have subsided, hand splayed over your stomach to feel your warmth. Dawn is peeking through the light blue curtains you've put up in the shared bedroom. You're surrounded in hues of brilliant blue, as if the sky itself presents itself inside your small bedroom.

The room is sparsely decorated, save for a large wardrobe at the other end of the room. You were too occupied to decorate the house. If you had enough time in between tending to the garden and the house, you'd decorate your home with things you and Hobie love— place photographs of you two, trinkets that remind you of the good days back home; and fill it with shared memories. You promise once everything is settled, you'd put your time and effort in making the place more homely. For now, you'll settle for filling the abode with warmth and your love for eachother.

The almost sheer fabric of the curtains does nothing to shield you from the light, but with the soft blue hue coming from the heavens above, and the cool breeze passing by, blowing the curtains around the sparsely decorated room— it helps him calm down. Hobie feels like he's floating above a cloud with you hugging him, lips pecking gently against the crown of his head with so much love he feels it in his chest. Blossoming, spreading around his limbs, tending to him and comforting him slowly.

You flick your eyes over to him, inadvertently meeting with his own that has been searching for the light behind your eyes. “I think we need ducks.”

Hobie cracks a smile, green eyes lingering on your soft grin. “Why ducks?” His voice is still hoarse so he clears his throat as you continue to massage at his nape. Making sure that he doesn't get a crick in his neck from how he's looking up at you with tender eyes.

“They hunt pests, it'll help the farm.”

“Where'd you learn that?” He humours you, hand cupping your side; such affection could only come from him.

You chuckle while your fingers play with his baby hairs clinging to his nape. “From my books.”

Hobie cuddles closer, nose nudging your stomach. “Buck and Cherry won't like ‘em. Clover might even eat ‘em.”

You snort, tamping down another laugh as if your laughter will disturb the peace when it's the opposite for him. “If we desensitize the horses they'll like them. And I'm sure Clover won't eat the ducks.” Hobie pulls himself up, tear stained cheeks illuminated by the dwindling oil lamp; chin placed on your chest. “We can build a coop for them, then have duck eggs every morning.”

“Have you tried duck eggs before, lovie?” His knuckles brush along your jaw, emerald eyes swimming with emotion. Sometimes you wish you could hear his thoughts so you could do a better job at comforting him. Like he does to you, he's better at that than you.

“I don't think so. Do they taste bad?”

“Nah,” his voice is soft, as if he's whispering secrets only to you. “It tastes the same as regular chicken eggs.”

You reach for his nose, squeezing it once before letting go. “I'll take your word for it, farmer Hobie.”

He chuckles, cheek pressed gently on top of your chest, straining his ear to hear your heartbeat. “‘Farmer Hobie,’ I never thought I'd hear that.”

“Don't like it?” With your thumb, you wipe the remaining tears clinging on his eyelashes. “How about ‘rancher Hobie?’”

“It sounds better than outlaw Hobie. Whatever you want to call me, love.” He pulls himself up more, face tucked in the crook of your neck. You cradle his head, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. “I'll be there.”

“Good, you know I don't like waiting.” You joke, eyes slowly closing while you fight a yawn. “We can go back to sleep, Hobs. It's still early.” You feel his presence above you, eyes cracking open, you see him frown. “You okay?”

“'m sorry that we lost all that time together.” He sniffs, inhaling sharply. Eyes finding your own.

You smile, helping him ease up. “It doesn't matter. We have forever now.” Hands cradling his face, you peck his lips then his eyelids as he closes his eyes. It's a simple act, a small one but it wraps his heart in silk and warmth. He feels like that lovelorn boy he left behind a long time ago.

“I need to show you somethin'” He whispers against your lips.

You quirk a brow, lips pursed into a gentle smile. “Okay, show me.” Hobie kisses your cheek before leaning away. The mattress squeaks as he leaves your side, you already feel empty and cold.

You watch as he crouches down on the foot of the bed. There's a scraping noise when he pulls something from underneath. Propping your elbows up, you crane your neck to see what he's doing. Wood scraping against wood, you see him lugging it towards the side of the bed. It's a large wooden trunk that's carved with simple patterns. There's nothing out of the ordinary about it, nothing but metal inlays and a lock where a key would go. Your heart thumps loudly, filled with trepidation as Hobie takes an old rusted key hidden under the bedside table. Crawling towards the edge of the bed, you peek as he opens it.

“Please don't tell me that's where you're hiding your millions.” You joke just as when the smell of old paper akin to weathered books hits your nose. “Oh,” you almost cried at the sight of hundreds of letters piled inside. They all bear his name and yours where the recipient would be. Your letters dwarf next to his own, yours are wrapped in a red ribbon that's placed next to his own pile. “Hobie—”

“I kept it all, I used to write everyday, but I got busy. I never forgot, Y/N. I never forgot you.” You choke back a sob whilst he roams his eyes around the contents of the trunk. His hands reached inside to grab a leather bound book. He finally looks at you, staring at your tear filled eyes. “D’you remember this?” Holding up the book, you smile at the worn out title. You remember the gold painted on it, now it has been worn down from years of it being read.

Heart stuck in your throat, you could only beckon him over back to your side. “Come here please.” You sniff, and he complies. Reaching for your hand as you help him up on the bed. Hobie places himself in-between your legs, back laying on your chest as his hands flip towards the front page of the book. “‘Candide,’ how could I forget?” You wrap your arms around him while your legs are crossed around his waist. You're his personal pillow, you've accepted the role earnestly. “I never asked how you liked it.”

“Your confession trumped how much I liked the book.” Hobie takes your hand to peck the back of it, eyes reading the three words you wrote years ago. “‘I love you,’” he reads the brief inscription you wrote on the front page. It's short, but you'd write it on every wall you encounter, on every surface; carve it on mountains and even the sky itself if you could. “I thought it was as absurd as the book itself.”

You chuckle against the crown of his head, “I remember the way you ran towards me after you saw it.” His lips felt like morning dew against your own that day. It was heaven sent for him and for you.

“This is the only thing I could grab before I had to leave. It was just this, all my savings and the clothes on my back.”

“I'm sorry,” you hide behind his shoulder, sobs wracking your body as he holds onto you tightly. You should've been there, fought harder to be by his side. All you could do now is lament on your grief and longing for time lost.

“Never mind that, it's over now.” Hobie pats your cheek, “the trunk is yours, love. If you want it.”

You peek over his shoulder, blinking at the large amount of letters that would surely have you sobbing even more. “You'd let me read it all?”

“They're all addressed to you. ‘sides, I read all of yours. It's only fair that you read mine.”

You wipe a fallen tear, sniffing while a moment passes in comfortable silence. He senses your feelings, twisting around, he cups your cheek before laying his forehead on your own. “I never blamed you for everythin’ that happened.”

A weight is lifted off your chest, a weight that you never realized was there since you've gotten used to the burden. “I–I never truly hated you for leaving.” Eyes closed, you rub his shoulders, comforting him and yourself at the same time. “I wrote it a hundred times in my letters.”

“I know, I read all of them. Now it's your turn to read all my…” He inhales sharply, letting your scent ground him to the present. “...complicated thoughts.”

“Complicated thoughts comes with loving someone.” Pulling away, you kiss him gently. Hobie has placed his whole heart in your hands, and you intend to keep it safe and tucked right beside your own. Or perhaps you've given him yours years ago.

—

After spending hours in bed, letters in hand and Hobie sleeping soundly next to you; you've only read half of the letters he wrote for you. Some made you quietly weep as he wrote about his struggles in the new world without you by his side. Some have made you laugh with his almost incoherent scribbles, notes that he has written while deep in amber liquid and under the fog of longing. It was almost noon when you two finally decided to leave the comfort of the bed to eat and go about your day to day chores.

Hobie decided to make breakfast for the two of you, or brunch is the better way to put it. After feeding Clover and both horses, you come home to a neatly set table. Bowls of fruit, bread and butter with oatmeal on the side sit prettily inside the new porcelains you bought from town. The table is complete with a red checkered table cloth, and plush roses inside a vase placed in the middle.

You stop in the doorway, watching him whistle a tune as he straightens the utensils. “I love it when you go the extra mile.”

Hobie perks his head up, sun shining on the delight etched on his face. “Can’t help it, love, you're contagious.” He eyes your blue poncho that he gifted to you a while ago. “I spend all this time with you, it's impossible not to catch your flawless manners.” He's already reaching towards you as you close the distance.

You place yourself in his arms, palms flat on his chest. “You make it sound like I gave you an incurable disease.”

Index finger on your jaw, he wipes away sweat from your heated skin. You notice the gun belt around his waist that pokes your hip, you don't mention why he started carrying even in the comfort of your home. You know why he does.

“I don't mind dyin’ from it.” He starts to peck your forehead and then he moves down to your parted lips, but you lean away teasingly before he reaches your waiting lips. With a furrowed brow, he tilts his head questioningly.

“Easy there, cowboy. We just got out of bed.” You reluctantly pull away even though you wanted the kiss as much as he did. Patting his bicep, you walk towards the kitchen to wash your hands.

“What do you mean? It's just a quick snog, love.” He leans on the table with one arm, the other nonchalantly inside his jean pocket. He clearly knows what he's doing to you. Sun rays part around him, bathing him in godly light.

You laugh, looking away before you pounce on him, hands in the water basin as you scrub the grime off your hands. “You said that last time and we didn't get anything done the whole day.”

Shrugging, he pulls the chair away from the table for you. Wood scraping on hardwood, smirk thrown your way. “It was one time. ‘sides, we finished all our chores before the sun went down.”

Drying your hand, you walk back to him. You poke his chest with a chuckle, he feigns hurt, making you laugh even more. “Bucky and Cherry were ignoring us after because their food was late.” Sitting down, you roll your eyes, “and it wasn't just that one time, Hobs.”

Hobie slides the chair back in, quickly kissing the crown of your head before sitting next to you, not at the head of the table like you thought he would the first time you two shared a meal together. You love all the subtle ways he shows you his love without saying the three words.

He gestures between you and him, “combined effort, love.”

You flick his ear, heat settling on your cheeks. “I know, I was there.” mumbling, you grab the pitcher of orange juice to pour one in his glass then over to yours whilst he spreads butter on your bread.

“You love flickin’ my bloody ear.” His arm is comfortably placed over the back of your chair, fingers brushing along the top of your head. “How would you feel if I started flicking your ear, hm?”

Covering your ear, you dramatically gasp. “It's still healing, how dare you?” Despite your words, your smile betrays you.

Hobie chuckles, “you can barely see the scar now, love.”

“It still hurts, sometimes.”

“Wait, really?” The sarcasm goes over his head until you give him a look that says ‘I’m clearly joking.’ He sighs, relief in his viridescent eyes. “You had me, I was about to bring you to the doctor.” The last word doesn't send you spiraling anymore after what happened last time with a certain doctor.

Scooping up a spoonful of oatmeal with blackberries, you bring it to Hobie's mouth. “You're a worrywart, Hobs. And I love you for it, now eat. We have so much to do today.”

Smiling, he clamps his mouth shut. “Yeah, but what if we just stay in bed instead—” he gets cut off by oatmeal gently shoved in his mouth. Laughing, he almost chokes from amusement.

He loves this, the domesticity, the shared affection and everything in between. He now sees the beauty in the mundane, the peace in uneventful days. After what seemed like decades of longing and bone aching grief, he feels like he's finally living again

After eating, you pick up plates even though Hobie told you a dozen times that he'll clean up. Once you shut him up with a quick kiss, he immediately relents and continues to drink his coffee.

You come around his seat, taking his finished plate. Before you could leave, he dips his head down backwards to look up at you. “Don't wash them yet, let me help you, yeah?”

With one hand cupping his chin, stubble prickling your palm, you squeeze tenderly. “You made breakfast, so that means I get to clean.” He starts to shake his head, but your hand stops him, making him scrunch his nose. “Combined effort, right?”

As you brush your hand along his scruff, you can see that he's surrendering. “Fine, at least let me dry it.” Beaming down at him, you can't seem to move away from him, hand still running along his jaw. “Do I need to shave?”

“No, it's growing on me actually.”

“Funny, it's growing on me too.”

“Haha.” You walk away with the plates as he hides his laugh behind his mug.

Finishing his drink, as the warmth settles in his stomach, he saunters over to you with the remaining dishes. “D’you think a beard would suit me?” Appearing next to you, he grabs a clean towel, drying the clean plates just like he promised.

“Maybe if we shave your head it might suit you.” Teasing and giggling Hobie splashes water on your cheek. “Completely joking, my love. I like whatever you decide to do. Even if it's a mustache.”

“And they say ‘m the bloody menace.” He pretends to glare at you, but you flash him with a flutter of your eyelashes, melting his façade on the spot. You shake your head with a grin, a comfortable silence settles, save for the sound of water sloshing around the basin and birds chirping outside.

Your matching rings gleam in the sun with the kitchen window in front of you that's facing the backyard. You've gotten used to this life, yet you still can't believe you're living it. It's hard to think that you were running away and starving just barely six months ago. Now you're living the life you always hoped you would be in.

You've forgotten what you were worrying about in the first place.

“What are your plans today, love?” He dries his hands before he takes yours to dry with a clean towel. Gently wiping, he waits for your answer while you think.

“Pick some tomatoes for Riri, you remember how she loved the last batch?” You love it when he dotes on you.

“Yeah, she was raving ‘bout it.”

You hum, “then maybe try again with your surprise.”

Hobie pauses from drying your hands. “You're still not goin’ to tell me what it is?”

Shaking your head, you stare at him with a cheeky smile, and eyes sparkling. “Nope,” he doesn't know that you're trying to breed a new variant of roses that would bloom in the same shade as his eyes. It's a lot harder than you thought it would be, but you persevere especially after one of the saloon's band members lent you a book all about it. “I think I'm close to getting it.”

“As long as it's not going to blow up in my face.” His hands clasps your own, tilting his head with a raised brow.

“For the last time, I didn't know that combining those two cleaning agents would make the bucket explode.” You both chortle at the memory. “But I think it's about to rain though. So I might just help you fix the floors in the spare bedrooms.”

Hobie glances at the window, seeing a clear blue sky without any hints of grey clouds nor rain. “Let me guess, knee hurtin’ again?”

You nod, “exactly. Wanna bet like last time since you still don't trust my knee rule?”

“It’s not an exact science.”

“And yet I've been right ninety percent of the time.”

“Ninety?” He slyly wraps you in his arms, you let him wholeheartedly. “Try seventy.”

“You either bet or you don't, Hobie.”

Nudging your nose lovingly, he peppers your face with featherlight kisses. You softly smile, clay in his arms, eyes closed as he dusts your skin with kisses. “Fine,” kiss “I'll bite.” He smooches each corner of your eyes. “How much?”

“I think you're already paying in advance.” You don't blame him when you two didn't finish any chores for today. It is a combined effort as you let him in your saccharine embrace.

—

Hobie waits for you by the porch with a cigarette in between his lips, smoke wafting in the air. The sun is slowly setting, orange and pinks dancing along Clover's face as she paws on his leg. Her eyes are big and glinting in the afternoon hues. A breeze carries the smoke away into oblivion just as when Cherry and Buckeye make their way inside the barn like clockwork.

“Your treat is comin’, stop whinin’.” He pats her head briefly. If dogs could frown, Clover would be giving him the deepest lour. “You've become spoiled, girl.” His fingers scratch behind her ear, tail wagging from side to side, yet she still whines for her afternoon treat.

The front door opens with a creak, Hobie sighs from the sound, thinking that he has finally fixed the stubborn hinges. But alas, it still declares every time it opens. His furrowed brows are replaced by a gentle smile the second he sees you saunter out with two mugs of tea in both hands. Still gorgeous in your poncho that seems to camouflage you with the house paint.

He quickly snuffs the cigarette, and flicks it away from you. Waving away the remaining smoke, he holds his hands towards you, one to hold one of the mugs, the other to hold onto your waist.

“There you are.” He beams at you, palms meeting with the drink’s warmth and your affection. “Run into some trouble?”

You grin at him and his habitual sweetness. “Here I am.” Pecking his cheek, you place yourself on the porch railing, eyes never leaving his own. Hand brushing along Clover's head, petting her. “You didn't even wait that long.”

“Seemed like forever to me, love.” Hobie clinks his mug against your own, earning a soft chuckle from you. Taking a sip, he makes a face, scrunching up his nose with a groan.

“What's wrong? Shit, did I mistake salt for sugar again?” You take his mug, tasting it for yourself. His tea barely tastes like anything, if anything else, it tastes bitter and akin to dirt. You clearly forgot to add sugar and milk just like how he likes it with this tea variant. You don't blame him for disliking it, the shop in town ran out of the good tea so you both had to settle with whatever is floating in the mug. “Fuck, I'm sorry, I'll remake it.”

“Oi, oi.” Before you could leave his side, Hobie reaches for your hip, arm snaking around it to pull you back to him. “I can handle it, stay with me, yeah?”

You feign a huff, placing your own mug on the railing, bringing your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer to you. Hip to hip, you beam at him whilst his hands rests upon your hips. You two look like you're about to dance. “I appreciate the sentiment, Hobs, but I can't let you drink bland tea.” You're sure that you forgot to put honey in your own.

He shrugs while Clover watches from the side, puppy dog eyes waiting for her treat. “I've got all the sugar and sweetness right ‘ere.” Leaning down, he places his forehead against your own. He then pecks the tip of your nose, all the while never leaving the comfort of staring into your eyes.

“I knew you'd say that.” You giggle, hands balling around his shirt. His eyes shine brightly, emeralds mixing in with the soft orange.

“You psychic now?” He raises a playful brow.

“Nope, I just know you, Hobie Brown.” You slide your hands away from his shirt to his chin, scruff scratching you a bit. “And I know you hate this tea without milk and sugar.”

“I can live without it for one drink.”

“And what? You can't live without me for even a moment?” You tease, and you now notice Clover's waiting but polite stare.

Hobie smiles, tilting away to then bend back in to kiss your lips gently. His hand holds your chin in place while you smile into the kiss, eyes closed but you still see the soft afternoon glow behind your closed eyelids. With one last peck, lips brushing along your own, he gives you his answer without saying a word.

You open your eyes with a breathy sigh, warmth filling your entire chest. “Do that again when I come back.”

“Love.” He sounds like he's pleading.

“I'll make your tea better this time.” You pat his cheek. “Besides, I forgot Clover's beef jerky.” With the utterance of her name, Clover stands up, wagging her tail with her tongue lolling out on the side of her maw. You're already moving away backwards, but his hand still holds onto your arm. You take both drinks, careful not to spill and waste any. As you go, his palm slides down, still trying to make you stay. “Five minutes, Hobs. Give me five and I'll be back.” You giggle when he stomps his foot like a petulant child.

“I'll be waitin', countin’ down the seconds.” he exhales dramatically, making sure that his longing is clearly shown. You laugh as Clover follows you inside. “It's my beef jerky by the way!” He yells, earning a muffled guffaw from you.

Smiling, Hobie returns to rest on the railing, elbow propped up, leaning and relaxing on the bannister. He refrains from lighting another stick of cigarette so he could keep his promise to you of quitting smoking. Fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve, his ears perk up from the sound of hooves thumping on the ground. Hobie's heart immediately skips a beat from the sound. His hand stays on his gun as he leaves the porch to see where the horses are coming from. He's not expecting any visitors, and from how loud the sound is, there seems to be a dozen of them coming his way.

Everything screams at him to take you and run.

His worry quickly rushes to you, as he twists and turns to spot where they're all coming from, he finally sees them coming down from hills. A dozen or so of them unmistakably gallop towards the farm. They're fast, leaving everything in the dust behind them.

There's no time to run away. And there's too many of them to fight off.

“Y/N!” He yells. “Stay inside!” There's no sound coming from the house, not even your footsteps as the strangers come closer and closer within a second until they all appear from behind the farmhouse with a couple of horses missing from the line. He takes notice of them, afraid of what will happen.

Dust flies around the farm, the clover covered ground gets trampled by hooves. They stop a mere inches away from your precious plants, surrounding him. Horses huff and neigh just as when dust settles, showing Hobie all their riders faces. He doesn't recognize any of them, and none of them stands out from the crowd. Except for the one leading the party, he's clad in a white suit with a pitch black tie. Eyes as green as the grass he's standing on, hair slicked back, revealed when he took off his matching hat.

Hobie stands before them, hand on his gun, posture ready to quick draw. “You’re trespassin’”

“Sorry about that,” the man in the white suit answers for the rest of them. “We're just here to ask for directions.”

“Ask, then leave.”

He clears his throat, “You see, we're looking for a place in Scarlett Meadows. But we're all turned around.” Chuckling, he leans on his horse, the poor horse clearly looks uncomfortable from the awkward weight on its neck.

“You're in Scarlett Meadows, mate.” Hobie says the last part sarcastically.

Clapping, the strange man looks around his party before returning his attention to Hobie. “That's good! Now can you point us towards the direction of Emerald Ranch?”

Hobie's stomach plummets, “You passed it.”

“That so?” The stranger looks around the farm. “Funny, this place looks like Emerald Ranch.”

“This is a farm, not a ranch.” Hobie's eyes narrow at the man before flicking towards the front door of the house to then return at the man whose eyes stare him down without a single fear behind them. “Have you tried asking ‘round town?”

“We would, but we heard they're not too friendly.”

“I wonder why?”

The white suit man chuckles lowly, “I'm just looking for someone, mate.”

“You're like a bloody cigarette, you're draggin’ this out, mate.” Hobie unlocks the strap securing his gun, ready to shoot.

The stranger chuckles, cracking a humourless smile before his expression turns flat. “Where's my fucking wife, Mr. Brown?”

Hobie falters, hand twitching around his gun. “Wife?”

The front door slams open, and you come out with a shotgun aimed at the stranger's head. “Ah there she is—!” A shot rings out, Hobie dodges from your range, and the man has the same idea. He falls from his now dead horse, using its body for cover.

“Cross!” You scream with anger, fear laced into your tone like venom. “You motherfucker!” Pumping the shotgun, you glance at Hobie. “Run!”

“I forgot I taught you how to shoot!” Cross laughs even with bullets raining down on him and his entourage.

Hobie sees everything in slow motion, one by one, as the assailants run towards you, they get shot down immediately. Blood splattered all over the clovers and plants you love so much. The horses neigh wildly from the barn, and Clover barks desperately from inside the house. Shotgun shells fall on the porch he mended, with gunpowder replacing the honey scented home. Hobie quick draws his gun, emptying half of his chamber at the men you missed. You're in the clear as his Entourage now lies beneath your feet. Hobie aims at Cross where he has a clear shot at while the man continues to hide behind the corpse. But before he could shoot, he hears your gun run out of bullets from how the trigger clicks empty. And then a harsh crack follows as you fall loudly on the wooden deck, head bloodied, breath trembling and struggling as the man Hobie hoped never to see again stands over you with his rifle digging into your temple.

Hicks, a stout man with a pencil thin mustache, clad in gold and your supposed uncle; the one who started it all, cackles above your bleeding form. “Long time no see, Hobie! Back from the dead, eh?” He waves at him, grinning widely. “Drop your fucking gun or I'll end her right here.”

Hobie's entire body trembles just like five years ago, mind reeling from the sight of Hicks' face. Never wasting a second, Hobie drops his gun just as he feels a pistol whip him from behind the second he's unarmed. He falls on the ground not from the strike on his head but from the angry kick on the back of his knees. He gets a mouthful of grass, dirt sticking to his cheeks.

Gun punted away from him, his vision swirls, hand reaching towards you. “No,” he whispers as he hears your sobs. There's a sudden pressure around his wrists, rope tying his hands on his back. “You fucker.”

Hobie picks up the unmistakable sound of a body getting dragged across the ground. Hands and feet hogtied, he struggles to fight back. He stops his struggle when you're placed in front of him in the same position. Your hands and feet are also bound, crimson trickling down from your temple to your eyes; blood sticking to your lashes. Trying desperately to wiggle next to you, he gets a harsh kick at his side. He bites his lip to prevent a pained groan from escaping.

Your eyes try to focus on him, pulse rapidly decreasing, you're in danger of falling unconscious. “...Hobs?” You call to him despite only seeing his outline in front of you.

“‘m here, love.” He wheezes. “Stay awake for me, yeah?”

You struggle to see, black dots dancing around your vision and blood rushing in your ears. Voices come and go, victorious laughter echoing and fading. “I–I should've told you. I'm s–sorry.” Crying, you feel a heavy cheek pressed on your own.

Your sobs would haunt Hobie in his grave. A haze of despair falling over him like fog atop a mountain.

“It's okay—”

“Yeah, you should've told him. Or maybe you shouldn't have left in the first place, hm, honey?” Cross has his hands around your binds, flesh against your cheek. “You left me for him?” He yanks you up, your bones crack and creak as his hand slither up to your bare throat. “I told you, you can never leave.” You choke as he squeezes.

Hobie tries to fight back even with the ropes around his legs and wrists. “Let her fucking go!” A heel stomps on the small of his back as Hicks laughs above him. A raging pain flares, but he refuses to let you fall in the clutches of a man that you clearly never wanted to be next to you.

Guilt wraps Hobie in its familiar embrace. He should've done more, added barbed wires around picket fences, hid guns under the porch, grabbed you the moment he heard the horses— he should've been better at protecting you.

“P–please,” you mumble out despite the hand gripping around your neck. “Let him go, y-you have me. You won.” Gasping, you stare at Hobie with your bloodshot eyes. He shakes his head, eyes full of unshed tears. Even now he doesn't want them to see the sorrow that they've caused him. “Cross, please.” You beg, a trapped doe in front of him.

Cross lets you go after a moment of you desperately trying to gasp for air. You look into his green eyes that are awfully familiar that fills you with dread. You despise that colour on him and how similar it is with the only man you love.

He reaches for your face as you flinch away but with his hand around your collar, you can't escape. You wait for a hit, but it doesn't come. Instead, he pats your cheek with a gloved hand, rough leather sending shivers down your spine. For a second, he looks like he's considering letting Hobie go. Hope blossoms in your chest together with the panic.

Your husband turns towards Hobie, towering over him, his hand still on you. Hobie meets with the similar green eyes with fury. Silence blankets around the farm as both men stare each other down. Cross is the first one to break.

“Thank you for bringing my wife back to me, Mr. Brown.” Craning his head to look at you, you pray that he gets hit with a stray bullet. “Mr. Hicks,” said man hums in reply. He smiles at you, showing his teeth. “Do whatever you want with Mr. Brown, I'm done here.” Cross pushes you towards one of his men, your back hits a sturdy chest. Something gold and metallic pokes your shoulder.

You look up at the man who bears the familiar gilded star. “Sheriff Lee?” He could only look at you through narrowed eyes, anger swimming behind hazel. “No!” Heart in your stomach, heels digging in, you refuse to go. “Hobie!” Said man wails for you in agony as you get dragged away by Lee's strong grip. You ignore the sheriff's sneer as you return your attention towards the only person who deserves it. “Run! Please!”

Hobie yells your name with wild rage. “No! Fuckin' let me go, you wankers!” He fights back on the ground, teeth biting at anyone who comes near him. But there's too many of them left, they punch and kick at him. Steel toed boots hitting his flesh in a sickening squelch. Once they're satisfied, they drag him behind the house as you both fight back despite the odds. “Remember your promise!” He screams, blood coating his tongue from the beatings. “Wait for me!”

“Leave—!” A sack is placed on your head, lungs struggling to breathe, eyes flicking rapidly from side to side. Your joints are frozen in place as panic takes over your whole body. Even with massive amounts of adrenaline to keep you fighting, you feel powerless, muscles straining, fingers trembling; everything crumbles. It's an assault on your senses, there're hands touching you, trying to tie you down. Breath staggered, eyes blown out, and body trembling. And yet, his screams are the ones that truly stay with you. Him screaming your name, crying out to you whilst you try to reach him.

“Burn the bloody place to the ground!” Hicks yells as you're placed on the back of a horse. “Dig a deeper hole! I'm here to finish what I started.” You call for him desperately, throat aching, body twisting and turning on the horse as you try to fall off it.

The stench of iron is replaced with fiery embers curling around your nose behind the fiber hood. You see blurred red and orange spreading through your home in a blaze of wildfire.

The last thing you hear is his screams as you fall unconscious from another hard punch to your skull.

—

Stirring awake, head pounding mercilessly against your temple, you groggily sit up despite the throbbing pain and dazed state. Hands still tied by rough rope behind you, the skin around your wrist is angry and starting to blister. Back hitting hard oak, your eyes meet with red stained glass windows that shine underneath flashes of lightning. You sit hunched on a pew as rain batters the windows with wind howling outside while you roam your eyes around the chapel— Smooth stone walls carved all around with granite floors glinting from the candle light. Arched ceilings that seem to be taller every time you blink, and incense filtering around the air, making your nose twitch.

“Good, you're awake.” Cross’ echoing voice rumbles deeply from the altar. Shoulders straight as a ruler, white suit drenched and dirtied from his recent fall from his horse.

“Wish I wasn't.” You groan, noticing how your feet are also tied together. Glancing around the altar, you scoff bitterly. “Really? Is nothing sacred to you, Cross?” He stalks over to you, fists clenched on his side. Fear is slowly creeping up to you. Yet, you don't balk, nor flinch when he gets closer to you. “What? Are you thinking about renewing our vows?”

“What did he do to you? Hm? What did he say to get you out here in the middle of bumfuck nowhere?” His wedding ring shines, making you glare at the piece of jewelry.

“Why? I chose to be with him, simple as that. I moved forward because you weren't there to shackle me anymore.” You lean closer despite the bindings and your instincts telling you not to fight or else. You know what he's capable of, his hands still bear the shape of your throat and cheek. “Why are you even here? You should've let me go, I gave you a reason to finally be free of me!” You stomp your foot, frustrated and angry. But most of all afraid for Hobie and what has become of him when you were dragged away. “Why didn't you let me go, Cross?”

His eye twitches, the same eyes that are sickenly familiar to Hobie's. “You're my wife, of course I'd follow you.”

You scoff bitterly, “your wife? I'm only your wife on paper.” Wrists twisting, you try to free yourself just like how Hobie taught you in case something like this would happen. And happen it did. “If you forgot, my aunt chose you, and Hicks made me walk down that fucking aisle with a knife to my throat. You are not my husband. Not to me.”

Cross blinks as if he's lingering around your words. Your heart beats louder than the storm outside, afraid of what the man before you would do. Your instincts are right as he suddenly raises his hand to land a harsh slap, you flinch away on instinct, heart beating loudly from the fear. But the pain doesn't blossom on your cheek like it used to, instead, he lunges for your throat, fingers digging in your pulse as you choke.

“Make s-sure you hit me right between my eyes until I see stars, husband.” You mock him despite your crippling fear.

“Don't.” He seethes, you don't stand down, this pain is nothing new to you.

When he doesn't get the response he wanted, his hold loosens, green eyes roaming and searching for the familiar fear in your eyes. A second later, he slowly lets you go and slides his hand up to cup your chin. He smells of nickel and rotten wood.

You tilt your head back so you can leave his hold but he grips tighter. Hair standing on end, his touch is a shivering familiarity on your skin.

“W-why do you hold on tight to me? You don't love me, you never wanted me to begin with.”

He rubs your cheekbone with his thumb. “A year of marriage with you— Anyone would hold onto you with a grip.”

“You should've gotten a dog instead of a wife then.” You laugh throatily, feeling his hand clasp tighter. “Now what has become of you, Cross?” His jaw clenches. “What happened to slapping me as your greeting? All the hair pulling, and dragging me across the floor to show your so-called love for me? Fetch my aunt, she knows how to properly greet me as always.”

His eyes sparkled with brief amusement. “You didn't hear?” He pauses, thumb brushing along your bottom lip, hunger in those green eyes. “Your great aunt's dead.” You swallow thickly, letting his words sink in. Your mind can't make out how to feel about it. “Died of a broken heart, that's what the doctor said.”

“A–a broken heart?” You shove his hand away from your face. “I didn't know she even had a heart in the first place.”

You can see the confusion spreading across his face, not used to your new found fiery attitude. “What has become of you? She died because you ran away.” Cross uses grief and guilt as his weapon, and he knows what he's doing.

“I'm not the same girl you married, Cross.” You tilt your head on the back of the pew, staring him down through your bloodied lashes. “And you and I both know that's bullshit. She smoked like a goddamn chimney, worse that she had numerous enemies. Not the kind of combination you want if you wish to live long.”

“Watch your fucking tongue, girl.” Hicks’ booming voice ricochets around the chapel as he appears from a door near the altar. “That was my wife you're talking about.”

“Look at that, hello, uncle.” Sarcasm drips from your words. “Why do you like a fucking priest when you're the farthest from being one?” You gesture with your head towards his robe like clothes, he's draped in black cloth from head to toe, mourning clothes.

Unabashedly eyeing him up and down, you start to giggle. “You married her for money, you fool. You're not convincing anyone with that.” Turning towards Cross whose eyes remained on you, you falter for a second before straightening your expression. “You blame me for her death but have you asked him about it? He has everything to gain from her death.” Cross flicks his eyes towards the man before turning to leave with a humourless scoff. “Coward.” You whisper.

A strong grip latches itself in your hair, pulling at your scalp. Hicks' hot breath puffs over your cheek, you yelp in pain, reminding you of all the times she did this exact thing to you. “You and your childish whims killed her. And for what? To be with that boy?”

“Fuck you!”

“Y/N,” Cross stands in the middle of the aisle, nonchalantly taking a coin from his breast pocket to twirl it across his fingers. “He didn't kill her, Hicks isn't the one named in her will. He has nothing to gain.”

Slowly, delight spreads across your chest, wrists almost free. You grin widely. “She left it all to me.” Hicks throws your head down, skull hitting the pew with a sickening crack. Yet, you still laugh even with blood trickling down to your nape. “A-after all the shit you had to do to win her over,” you swallow down the pain. “she still didn't trust you enough to hand the company over to you!” Your guffaw echoes around the chapel. You spot Sheriff Lee standing in the corner, guarding the door, your laughter roars louder at the sight of him.

Hicks scoffs, trying to act that your words hasn't fazed him. “I always admired her, y’know, her and her resilience to punish you even though she loved you so much. With your hands bloodied and knees in grain— pretty eyes wet with salty tears. It was quite a sight. But as much as I admired her, cared for her, I can't replace you. No one can.”

Your eyes brim with tears you refuse to let go. “She could barely look at me.” You whisper the words.

He sighs, “she loved you.”

“There was a time I thought she did. That I deserved all of the pain, that I didn't know any better. But I was just a child who didn't do anything wrong but look up to her.”

Shrugging, Hicks makes a face that fans the flames in you. “Maybe you did deserve it.”

You don't feel the fear anymore, your rage triumphs over it.

“Fuck you!” Your screech could be heard above the thunder. “It got worse because of you! Only because you whispered in her ears and told her everything with your jealous sickly eyes! Married me off to some man who would hurt me more than grains on my knees!” You heave, Hicks raises an unbothered brow. “Wasn't it enough that you took him away from me?” He grins at you, papers in his hand, looking at you as if you're the one in the wrong. “The poison drips down, from her to you and then to my accursed husband.” You turn your red eyes towards Cross, the coin in his hand pauses from your heavy stare.

Maybe you should've gone with your parents on that doomed expedition.

A rustle of papers makes you turn towards the sound. Hicks spreads the crumpled paper on the seat next to you, pointing at the dotted line and placing a fountain pen beside it. “Sign your name and this'll be over.”

You lick your dry lips, the taste of your blood is bitter and acrid on your tongue. Your eyes don't even glance at the words. Wondering how they knew where you went, your mind wanders to the only person back home who knew. “What did you do to Peter?”

“We set him free. Free to roam the gates of heaven that is.”

Nails dig into your palms, leaving crescent scars atop your old one. Fury snaking along your aching body, you crane your neck towards Cross who leans against the altar, flipping a coin as candlelight flicks across his face and red windows reflecting off his skin and eyes. “The people you surround yourself with, Cross, it's astounding. You've got a dirty sheriff, a gold digging motherfucker, and me, who will take every opportunity to kill everyone in this fucking room.” Your want for vengeance spreads across the chapel, voice louder than the thunder raging outside. Cross looks at you like it's the first time he truly ever saw you. Returning your focus on the man who buried the love of your life, you utter behind clenched teeth.

“Just sign the damn papers—”

“When you buried Hobie under that oak tree, you buried me too. And you sliced open my neck just like how you did to him, that's why I'll never sign it.” Hicks tries to grab your head but you headbutt his chin before he could. He collapses on the floor, cradling his bitten and bleeding tongue. Standing above him, pen in hand, wrists now free behind you, you smile at him so it's the last thing he'll ever see. “I'm going to burn the company into the ground, and you'll be left penniless but I'll be fine; thanks to you suggesting this, how did you put it? ‘Auspicious’ marriage.”

Cross notices the sharp, shiny pen in your hands. He yells, coin falling from his hand with a clink, but it's too late as you pounce on Hicks, stabbing his chest with every clink of the coin— three times, you stab him three times as blood gushes out in a spray across your vengeful face. Lee stops you by tackling you on the ground. The blood coated pen clangs on the granite, drenching the floor with crimson. Lee has to put his entire weight on you so you can't escape, Hobie drives you to fight back with the same ferocity he would.

You need to avenge him.

“How does it feel, Hicks?! That's how I felt while you watched!” Your uncle sits up, groaning, blood slipping from his fingers as the outlaws that they hired rush towards him. You know he won't die from his injuries, you'd know— but it's enough, knowing that you caused him pain until you can finally end him with your own hands.

Laughing, arms being tied up from behind, tighter this time, you continue to try and escape from under Lee even with his knee digging on the small of your back. “I will not cleave, never again! Especially to men like you!”

Hicks stands up with some help. He leaves small drops of his blood on the granite, hands plugging the holes you made on his torso. “Now I'm glad I finished the job! I buried him again, and this time he'll stay down there for good!” He tries to rile you up further, it works from the mere mention of Hobie. You fight back, Lee's hold on you wasn't enough so Cross joins him, hands keeping your kicking legs down. “I even burned down your dinky house, there's nothing left there for you!”

“Did you make sure that he stayed buried this time, uncle?!” You yell at him, a sound akin to primal fury. His eyes widen, and you grin bitterly, “You didn't. Don't bother running away because he's already coming after you.” Lee yanks you up, and then places the same hood on your face. “He's coming after you!” You get dragged away towards the small room behind the altar.

Your grief has grown teeth. “If he doesn't then I'll do it for him!”

As Lee ties you to a table, closing and locking the door behind your screaming form; Cross' entourage looks at him with trepidation.

“We'll leave the second the rain is gone.” They all agree immediately.

—

Dread spills over him like a flood, incapable of saving you, watching your unconscious form ride away as Cross carries you on his borrowed horse. Hobie had to gaze upon the agonizing pain of you being taken away.

Outlaws set fire to the house, razing it to the ground as smoke immediately entered his senses. Flames spread in the home you two built together, angry orange hues devouring the same place he promised to live the rest of his life with you. The light blue paint starts to melt, glass windows cracking in the heat. He watches as his home turns to ash.

Men drag his screaming, writhing body towards the back of the house as he hears the awfully familiar sound of soil falling from shovels. His entire body hurts, cuts and bruises marring his flesh, clothes torn, and teeth coated in crimson. Trying to fight back, his nails digging in on the men's wrists yet it doesn't faze them. He sees Buck and Cherry run towards Hobie, neighing angrily with every intention to kick each of his assailants.

Hicks takes his guns out, aiming at both horses before they could reach him. Hobie yells at his horses, pleading with his broken voice. “No! Get away, Buck!”

Hicks shoots, gunshot echoing around the farm, bullet missing Cherry's hoof by an inch. Both horses rears, neighing loudly. “Fuck, I missed.” Hicks looks back at Hobie, who's on his knees. Hicks pulls down the hammer again to shoot. “Good thing I have more than one bullet.”

Hobie sneers, turning towards both terrified horses. “Buckeye! Leave! Get!” Bucky seems to shake his head in protest, but one look from his rider has him understanding what he meant. He runs away in the direction with Cherry in tow, who looks at the place she last saw you in. Hobie's glad he listened, he can't lose them too.

With dust clearing, Hicks returns his focus on Hobie and the outlaws that are digging behind him. “Dig deeper, make sure he doesn't get out like last time.” An idea passes by his eyes. “Or maybe I should just strap your hands and feet to my horse and gallop away while I drag you around in your shitty farm?”

“Fuck you, Hicks!” Hobie kicks dirt at his direction, soil landing on his shoes, completely unbothered. “Where is he taking her?”

Hicks chuckles while he takes out a cigar from a golden case that Hobie recognizes as your aunt's cigar case. He cuts the cigar before lighting it up with the same fire that eats away the farm. “Why bother asking? She's married, boy, taken and all that.” Crouching down, he blows smoke at Hobie's face. Eyes flicking towards the hole behind him. “Besides, you'd be six feet under.”

Thunder roars overhead, followed by a spark of lightning and petrichor. You were right, it's going to rain.

“It was all arranged wasn't it? Was it you?”

“No, it was her aunt. God rest her soul.” Hicks points at the sky as droplets of rain trickles down.

“Good.” Hobie grins, teeth threatening to snap at the man. Hicks clenches his jaw, sneering with a scoff.

The fire continues to burn behind him, and the men carry on with digging Hobie's grave right behind him. “Well, technically, I was the one who suggested it but she's the one who did most of the work.” He huffs and blows smoke, “you should've seen Y/N at her wedding, so gorgeous in white.”

Hobie tightens his jaw, lunging at Hicks but the men holding him down stops him. “No matter how deep that hole you put me in, I'll dig myself out and I'll come and cut your neck this time.”

“Let's see about that, Hobie. Pity, if only you didn't chase her, you'd be fine. Hell, maybe a manager at the factory by now.” He takes a peek behind Hobie, sucking in his teeth when it's not deep enough. “Shame, you had talents. I gotta hand it to you though, you've built yourself quite a reputation over here.”

“Whatever you heard,” Hobie leans closer, but a hand stops him. “It's all true, especially what I did in the east. And once I get my hands on you and that prick you married her to, I'll make sure what happened back then was child's play.” For a brief second, Hicks wavers.

“It's six feet,” someone says behind Hobie, still heaving from the labour.

“About time.” Hicks stands up, instructing the men to lift Hobie up on his feet. He gets yanked up, shoulders throbbing. “I'm supposed to say some nice parting words to the departed,” Hicks takes out his gun, pressing the barrel on Hobie's forehead while he glares with a bitter smile— “But I don't want to waste my breath.”

“Make sure you don't miss.” Hobie leans closer to the metal as Hicks then digs it into his neck as Hobie taunts. Moving a few paces away with his free hand pressed on his ear, he knocks the hammer down and aims it at Hobie's head.

He braces himself.

Hicks shoots, lighting strikes a few ways from the farm, lighting up the bullet heading right at Hobie's head. Blood spills over the soil below. He falls into the grave with a thud. Hicks Looks from above, seeing Hobie limp inside the hole in the ground, right next to the writhing worms. Satisfied, he tells his men to cover it back up just as the rain starts to pour in.

“Meet us at the rendezvous.” Hicks says above the sound of rain and thunder as he makes his way towards his horse, already galloping away while soil drops on Hobie's motionless face.

—

It rains, just like that day five years ago.

Hobie's nails are coated in dirt and grime, face covered by his own shirt to protect him from falling soil. Yet it doesn't save him from slowly suffocating. Soil in his lungs, breath ragged, he remembers the panic in your voice, how you screamed so he could be let go. He's living his past once again, but this time, he's not a frightened boy, he'll rise from the dead over and over again if he has to. With a raging heart that feels like imploding, his thoughts are on you.

Your worst fear is him dying. Even with the threat of a gun to your head, you still chose him.

Did he deserve any of these? To see you cry for him desperately, to hear you call for him with blood spilling from your lips— is he cursed? Is this karma for all the things he has done? That he deserves all of it because he was molded into this, a weapon he never wished to become but had to so he could survive. He doesn't want to linger on the thought, all he knows is that he needs to survive this.

But will he survive long enough to see you again?

Grunting, his temple has stopped bleeding a few minutes ago, skin grazed by the bullet that he dodged covertly. Hicks was never known for his aim even if his target was just a few steps away from him. Or perhaps Hobie is incapable of dying.

With his belt buckle in hand, he digs upwards. While he laid there ‘dead’ he heard about the new factory settled in the south— That after your aunt's death, they changed the main location from London to the heart of the new world's south. He knows where to find Hicks now, and in turn, you too.

He's not going to lie down and bleed.

Hobie hears the pattering of rain just outside the grave, thankful that the idiots Hicks tasked to bury him gave up halfway after they thought him dead. Still, Hobie's having a hard time digging himself out when the soil has clumped together because of the water and became heavier because of it. But he won't give up until he gets to see and hold you again. He still needs to tell you that he forgives you, that he understands why you didn't tell him. That he loves you despite it all.

Yelling in frustration, he still can't feel the breeze from below. Seemingly not making any progress. Arms thrumming from fatigue, he inhales and exhales, remembering why he keeps fighting, why he wants to survive it all.

You. The image of you drives him to dig himself out of his own supposed grave.

Hobie digs and digs, calculating his breathing so he doesn't waste what little air he has. He lists all their names, all the people he has to cut through to get to you. Hicks is a given, he has to end that man to avenge his younger self. Sheriff Lee, whose asshole son he had to shoot or he'll continue to commit unspeakable crimes that his own father lets him do without a single reprimand. And Cross, your husband, a marriage you never wanted, your shackle that continues to drag you down.

“Fuckers,” he whispers, renewed energy making him dig faster and faster.

There's a metallic twinkle from outside, for a moment, he thought that he suffocated and is now being taken by death. His worries subsides when he hears frantic barking outside, paws digging and whining sadly.

“Clover.” Hobie is in disbelief, lucky that Clover returned. “Good girl, Clover! Keep diggin’!” He helps, tunneling together in tandem until he sees her snout sniff at the ground. “Atta girl!” Petting briefly, Clover digs as Hobie gets his hand out from the depths of the soil.

Lighting pierces the night, he rises from his grave once more.

Death can't stop him from getting back to you. This time, he won't leave you to be eaten by the coyotes.

Dragging himself out, Clover helps him by biting at the hem of his jeans, pulling him up by her teeth. Rain pelts against his skin, mud sticking to his flesh, and blades of grass clinging to him. Shakily standing up, he screams the moment he's fully out of the grave.

Hobie brushes his hand along Clover's head, scratching just behind her ear. She scampers off, running towards somewhere, maybe a dry place where she can rest after a job well done.

He lets Clover run away, taking out his cigarette and lighter, he drags the stick across his dry lips before placing it in between. Lighting it, he inhales deeply, the glow from it illuminates the fury on his face. Promising himself that he'll save you, that he won't abandon you this time. And If you're still willing, rebuild the house in each of your visions like it was supposed to be.

Staring at the farm house, its burnt, but remnants of it remains thanks to the unexpected rain. The structure still stands tall, darkened wood falling apart, ash mixing in with the rain, turning the floorboards into a muddy sludge. He can't think about all the letters that you didn't finish reading, all those words forgotten in the wind, nothing but ash flying away with the breeze.

Even the garden you worked so hard for is burnt to nothingness, not even a single leaf has survived. All the flowers and produce you've painstakingly kept alive are now cinders.

The familiar calmness that comes after a brush with death sits in his chest. A wave of pain seizes him to a pause, gripping the chest, his mind imagines the worst. That they've hurt you, that you're sailing halfway across the world by now; that they've killed you and dropped you into a shallow grave to let the rain inevitably wash you away. He shuts the thought out, tears pricking at his eyes. Uttering your name softly, he exhales. You're his peace.

Still standing in what remains of the farm, Hobie hears hooves rushing behind him, and a familiar bark running next to the pair of horses, whose shadow looms over him when lightning strikes and lights up the barren land.

“I'll get her back, I promise.”

—

The saloon is in full swing, patrons dance around the band, people rambunctiously play poker upstairs while Riri is arguing with Miguel after she told him that she's leaving to go and check the farm.

“I'm telling you, Miguel, something doesn't feel right. Morgan told me he saw fire blazing over there!” She unlaces her apron, tossing the empty whiskey bottle right next to other empty ones.

“Their place is far away, how could Morgan even see that?” Miguel chomps down on a slice of cake, rain continues to pour down as Riri takes her coat and hat from the closet beside the bar. “Where are you going, Ri? It's pouring outside!”

“To check on them—!” The saloon doors open with a bang, spooking the band, the music screeching to a halt when they see Hobie standing there drenched, bleeding and covered in weapons. Everyone stops to look, the brim of his hat covers half of his face, scar in full display, ring glinting in the light. Silence hangs, not even a whisper can be heard. “Holy fuck.” Riri pushes past people to get closer to him, hands reaching out to him, eyes seeking you from behind him. When she doesn't see you, she presumes the worst.

“They found her.” Lightning strikes behind him, briefly showing his red eyes.

Riri nods, hiding her shaking hands with a fist. “I've got your back, just like I said.” Miguel stands dumbfounded, frowning, eyebrows knitted in anger.

Hobie glances at the customers he knows, half of them were from the gang he used to run with. The other half are afraid of him. He turns his heed towards Miguel, eyes boring into the man. “Remember that bounty you never got?” Miguel smirks, already placing his hat on his head. “Any valuables you find, it's yours and the gang’s. Time to get even, Miguel.”

He hears ear splitting cheers before he collapses into Riri's arms.

[nooskadraws]

my warlock proposed to his gunslinger boyfriend and he said yes!!! 

[blorbocedes]

Nico and Mika are the ultimate corruption kink go brrr pairing! Something about your dad’s protégé turned your childhood hero reluctantly letting you seduce him with your pretty face and fluffy blonde hair (and amazing arse). The way he grimaces slightly when you flirt and giggle with him but really he wants nothing more than to ruin you, wreck your innocence. Yeah there’s so much more projection to pack in with those two than Michael and Nico

sometimes I get asks that make steam come out of my ears and this is one of those 😳😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 gonna add a read more tag for some age gap fuckery, be warned all ye who enter. also going to lore dump, if that is to your interests

it is absolutely bonkers corruption kink...... esp when you consider nico saying he doesn't remember when he met mika because he's known him his whole life (sideways glance at Mika, smile) maybe Mika remembers! like jdfhfjjfjdf keke being mika's manager; Mika an absolute 90's golden boy... and the Finnish world champion keke rosberg managing him so he in turned sponsored his son, Nico's karting career and then that kid not only made it to f1 but was your emotional support rival's teammate and was Regularly beating him....... and you were proud :)

there's just no way Mika didn't do it for Nico....... cue every lana del rey song he fucked that old man

it's the way nico is a polyglot and mika is shy about his english and takes his time while speaking...... it's the way nico is so comfortable around him...

https://twitter.com/nicorosberg/status/573201430967930881?s=21&t=TZjayI7pMAP4hYLlhqZR-gb

"My old hero" he is not beating the fucking old men allegations!!!

they're in a Swiss gondola and Nico always teases Mika for caring about his hair :)

https://twitter.com/nicorosberg/status/821637856942755840?s=21&t=TZjayI7pMAP4hYLlhqZR-g

once again... he is NOT beating the getting rawed by older men allegations!!!

https://twitter.com/nicorosberg/status/707542668272861184?s=21&t=TZjayI7pMAP4hYLlhqZR-g

bless Nico's little influencer heart.

mika doing his best to be The Adult in the room while twink menace nico is trying to climb him...... I would like to see it. there's also the mirroring... blonde finn upstarts overshadowed by their greatest of all time rivals, beating Michael... and then the entirely forbidden but so easy to take, you don't even have to try when it's Offered in your lap but you shouldn't......😳🥵

I do love Michael x Nico but for entirely different reasons, there's so much ambition and cutthroat world of f1 and bitter bitter emotions and arrogance and god complexes...... entirely deserving of its own thread tbh...

as always... why not both 🥰

[lollytea]

4.) I'll never get over how much thought and care you've put into making Shagheera not just passable, but fantastic. Like you went from complaining about there being no good Shagheera fics in 2020 to being responsible for a bunch of Shagheera content in 2021. Magnificent. Hyperfixated Queen.

5.) It feels like a crime that I haven't read your Huntlow fics yet, I swear I'll fix what the moment I am able.

6.) The ending of A Little Change Chapter 21 is always gonna stick with me as like. Such a vibe. It paints the entire fic's vibes to me tbh. I think it's why it took me so long to really get into illustrating that moment. It just sticks. In a good way.

7.) Not entirely a fic (yet?) but I wasn't lying when I said the bit you wrote about Ty making peace with his bisexuality actually made me cry. Again why I was just so eager to illustrate it.

8.) PERSONALITY!!!! Oh my gods, like, your fics have SUCH personality. Whether it be through dialogue or narration or even dramatic irony, there's just like. So MUCH in your fics. So much you. And I love you. And so I love your writing ejhfkgjs. There are scenes I so desperately want to animate because the dialogues you write just FEEL like they have such good motion to them!!

12.) I... I re-read Penniless Promises and Undocumented Events so often it's almost embarrassing QwQ;;;

14.) I was extremely fresh off of catching up to the Owl House when I read Exercise in Understanding, so I wasn't expecting it to hit me as hard as it did (sometimes something has to sink in first before it can mean so much) but it DID and I'm so glad it did.

15.) I love hearing you talk about your writing process - Since Swindle is as much a visual piece as it is a written one, how much do you visualize as you're writing the script? You give so me many directions that I can't consider there's nothing happening, but I'm curious about just how much you write with visuals in mind!

I looooooooooooove youuuuuuuu 💕

4.) My Shagheera. My beloved. My beloathed. They are good for my mental health. They make it a billion times worse. Miserable horrible old kitty men that drive me fucking ballistic. Shagheera will ways be there for me to focus on if I run out of other hyperfixations. Who would I BE if I didn't have them?

5.) If it helps I can summarise my huntlow fics for you so it feels like you've read them. Okay so I've written two big ones. Sunshine and Atlas. In Sunshine, Hunter and Willow take turns having mental breakdowns while sitting in Willow's backyard. In Atlas, Hunter and Willow take turns having mental breakdowns but with a twist! They're in Luz's house this time!

Actually you need to read them to understand what I'm currently about. It's like me taking you by the hand and explaining my current brainrot step by step. I consider Sunshine to be like. My huntlow essay. Like how I made a shagheera essay to pitch why its Good, I actually made this essay into a fic. It is still entirely a pitch. Tryna get people on board with my agenda.

6.) It's been SO FUCKING LONG that I was wracking my brain trying to remember what in God's name happened in chapter 21. I had to check. I remember knowing that entire fic off by heart back then. Like if you dropped a chapter number, I'd immediately know what that chapter was about. Now it's all just a blur. A Little Change is nowhere close to my pride and joy anymore that I'm glad it's just a blur.

But ya okay 19 year old me really snapped with chapter 21. Can't believe she wrote that. I'm proud of her. Silly and cringy as it was I'm glad she had fun. Glad other people had fun too.

7.) *bonks my little OC on the head* this bad boy can fit so much of the bisexual experience in it*

8.) This is why I can only write anything once every thirty years or so. I put all my personality into it and then I am left without a personality for ten to twelve business days. Just a husk. But people are getting a giggle out of my silly little stories so who's the real winner here.

But God do I love making fics that are alive. Its like making my own little frankensteins monster. If its not breathing, I'm never satisfied.

12.) I appreciate that you reas Undocumented Events so much because that's my BABY. It's everything to me. I have no idea when I'm ever gonna touch it again but I love what it currently is. And nobody else reads it so LIKE. Thank you for keeping it in your memory.

I have no special attachment to Penniless Promises so it doesn't bother me that nobody ever reads it. But I'm always like "at least Artsy that wild son of a gun is having fun and milking it for everything it's worth." That's what it's all about.

14.) Excercise in Understanding how I love that little guy. Constant reminder that has me like "Look at me!! Writing short things!!! Look what I'm capable of!!!" Delighted that one of the first owl house fics was Hunter being gross and Darius being disgusted. What an excellent place to start.

15.) I visualise facial expressions and gestures and non vocal character interactions. I'm really bad at like painting pictures in my head of backgrounds and layouts and whatever but I'm always character oriented. I think there's a lot of writing between the lines when it comes to the little details of smiles and troubled looks and comfortable touching and flinching so my brain really zeros in on how they would look. But when it comes to whatever in God's name is going on around them. Settings and shit? Brain empty.

Thank you!!! You are my friend!!! I love you!!!!!