#so if this seems rough that's why

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - One

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. - You stand alone on a train platform, whole life in your hands, ready to promise yourself to a man you’ve yet to meet. - ao3

You step off the train carrying every one of your earthly possessions clutched in both hands. In one a carpetbag, only half-full, and in the other, a stack of letters tied together with string. A paltry summary of a very small life, you thought months ago, but today you only see how much room is left over where happiness might take root.

It began with an ad in the paper—Widowed Ranch Owner Seeking Tender Companionship—and a mailing address to a livestock town out in the west. Hans König described himself as Austrian, unusually tall, and fair lonesome in a big ranch house with no woman to make it a home. He’d immigrated to the United States as a child, married very young, had no children, and was forced to watch his first wife perish to consumption.

After two years of mourning, he said in the paper, he finally accepted that she would not want him to live and die alone. And thus, if there were any kind-hearted lady willing to give an old widower a chance, he would promise to take very good care of her.

You’d replied as fast as you could get your hands on paper and pen. The fourth child and only daughter of a tobacco farmer, you hadn’t much else to occupy yourself with. And truly, you hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Proficient in the written word though you were, there was not much else to recommend you. You brought a tiny dowry, skill with a sewing needle, a general knowledge of plants, and mediocre cooking to the bargaining table; he was horse man tried and tested by the challenges of the frontier.

You were under no illusions that you were the most attractive candidate.

Still, you wrote your letter. Described yourself to him as honestly as you could—neither especially pretty nor particularly accomplished, but told by friends and family to be of gentle demeanor and useful intelligence. Forgave him preemptively if he never responded, and wished him the best of luck in his search for a wife.

You’d nearly fainted dead away when his response had arrived as immediately as the next mail wagon. Hans König had addressed you by name, as intimately as if he’d known you for years, and said,

I was very pleased to receive your letter, Miss, and am terribly excited to correspond with you in the future. Although you write that you cannot imagine yourself an appropriate wife for a man of my experience, I myself cannot imagine what more you must need to be such. While I will not do you the discourtesy of making any promises with only my first letter to you, I will tell you truly that I was glad of your introduction, and hope you will grant me the pleasure of knowing you further.

Your whole family had been so excited for his response that Pa had broken out his fiddle after dinner that night, rejoicing already that his little girl’s future was secure.

What followed was a whirlwind half year of romance over letters sent back and forth so fast that you kept running out of ink for your pen. When you’d related this problem to Hans, he’d sent not only an entire box of lampblack ink, but a new steel pen, blotter, and lap desk on which to write.

There is no greater misfortune I can imagine now than to lose the pleasure of your correspondence, he’d written.

Pa had cried that day. Your mother had drawn you close and kissed your hair, whispering a thankful prayer that her baby was going to be alright.

In every letter, Hans demonstrated himself to be a kind man, thoughtful and patient, and as the relationship between the two of you blossomed, you started to believe it yourself. You had long given up on the possibility of marriage, thinking yourself too old and plain by now to offer much to any man worth marrying.

Now you stand alone on a train platform, whole life in your hands, ready to promise yourself to a man you’ve yet to meet.

There are only a few people milling about the station for you to survey. The surest way to pick Hans out from a crowd, he’d written, was by height. He towered over most people, and expressed hope in an early letter that he would not dwarf you too much.

But as you look around, no one stands out above the rest. In fact, the people here aren’t much different than what you’re used to; their simple dress and slight grubbiness prove them to be working folk, the kind you’d expect in a town like this, stockyards visible from the station. Your kind of people—at least normally.

Anticipating this meeting, you’d put on the best dress you own, a light frock with little printed flowers all over it. Your hair is braided and pinned up as fashionably as you could manage early this morning, and you’d even dabbed a little rouge on your lips for the occasion. As far as you can tell you are the cleanest, best-dressed person in the vicinity, and you notice not a few people openly staring.

The thought would usually make you blanch, but right now you hope it will only help your would-be husband to catch sight of you. You still can’t find him—

“Mrs. König!”

You whip your head in the direction of the call. Relief trickles through you, soothing an anxiety you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge yet, and then you see that stepping onto the platform is the handsomest man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Dark skin, warm as a summer’s day. Lips soft and full like a peach fresh-picked from the tree. A serious brow over serious eyes.

Strong and lean in build, with a loose, confident swagger in his step. He approaches, his large, long-fingered hands coming to rest on the buckle of his belt as comes to stand before you.

Tall, to be sure.

But not unusually tall.

This cowboy—profession evidenced by the worn state of his attire—is not your intended husband.

Something in you falls at that.

Swiftly you berate yourself for the betrayal. Your Hans is gentle, generous, kind. So what if this man before you is attractive? Marriages must be built on more, and Hans has already given you more. His looks shouldn’t—don’t—matter to you at all.

“Not as of yet,”you reply to the cowboy, “but soon. May I help you, sir?”

He fixes you with an intense gaze. Up close, you see thick, dark lashes framing even darker eyes—the color of which, you realize, is as black as fresh-turned soil.

The smell of humus fills your memory, powerfully earthy and fresh, such that you could be on your hands and knees with your face to the ground right now. You feel the phantom of it between your fingers; rich and cool, like at the start of the planting season before the rains. So dark and fine as to live between the grooves of your fingertips for days.

“I’m Kyle Garrick,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m a wrangler for Hans König, miss. He sent me to meet you.”

You blink. The fantasy you’d dreamed up on the train ride—of seeing Hans across the platform, recognizing him instantly, and running into his arms—finally crumbles into dust.

“Oh,” you say.

Kyle Garrick frowns. “You’re disappointed.”

“No!” you exclaim immediately. “No, he must be such a busy man, I couldn’t expect him to drop everything for me.”

The cowboy sucks his lips between his teeth, studying you for a heartbeat, then—“He is busy. Mr. König is finishing preparations for your wedding this evening. That’s why he couldn’t come.”

What disappointment had begun to sprout in your stomach immediately strangles down to the root. Joy surges in your chest like birds taking flight.

“A wedding!”

You didn’t need a wedding, you’d written to him—you were so happy merely to marry him, you couldn’t possibly ask for more. All you needed, you told him, were his hands in yours, promising before God to be your husband for the rest of your lives. You’d meant it, too.

But an actual wedding!

“Biggest the town’s seen in years,” says Kyle Garrick. “Folks haven’t talked about anything else for weeks.”

“Oh!” Then suddenly you despair. “Oh, I’m not dressed at all for a wedding. If I’d known, I would’ve worked on this dress more, I would’ve put my hair up better!”

Kyle surprises you with sudden passion. “You look perfect. You’re the prettiest thing that’s ever come into this train station, miss. This town, even.”

“Oh,” you say again. You flush hot up into the roots of your hair. Embarrassed, you avert your gaze, looking down at his worn roper boots. “I’m not, really. But it’s kind of you to say.”

His hand touches yours, the one holding onto your carpetbag. When you look back up at him, his expression is gentler.

“Mr. König will agree with me,” he says, “I promise.” He eases the handle from your grasp. Up close, he has a comforting smell. Leather, and sweet hay, and campfire smoke.

“You think so?” you ask, tightening your grasp on the letters in your other hand.

He nods. “I do. Now come on—I brought a cart. Let me take you home.”

-

next

[quirkle2]

first amv be nicies to me about it or else

[sentientsky]

here, have a quick lil post-fall crowley/starmaker sketch before i collapse into bed

[alphaketoglutaricacid]

the way toshiro is consistantly singled out as "that foreigner" even among ppl of his own party even tho 4/6 of his party are not from kahka brud or the island is so 😬😬😬

[lvlypixelry]

in midst of all the pain the whole bcc ordeal is causing me, the danny and jack weird gay promos are very entertaining

[faecaptainofdreams]

Oh my god, just work on your art, Fae. Just work on your fucking art. You have so many things ready to edit and they’re not even that difficult, literally just sit on your ass and work on it. Work on the art, Fae. Do it! Work on the fucking ART! JUUUST!!! DO IT!!!

WORK ON THE FUCKING ART, FAE!

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

[ratbastarddotfuck]

thing that always pissed me off in queer eye was when they made that trans guy take down his pride flags because "they're cheesy" and put up "tasteful" pride art instead. to be honest, bite me.

[coldercreation]

brb about to go down a research rabbit hole lol

Question of the day!

Why is showing ‘disinterest’ such prevalent thing when it comes to building friendships and relationships?

I have talked about this here before in my rants lol, but it just always frustrates me. Like, you know those arbitrary ‘rules’ in dating that you shouldn’t show too much interest or get in touch too soon, or be too ‘intense’ or interested? Like, obviously don’t be a stalker and read the room etc, but I mean if you're just a regular and safe 'well-adjusted' person, why is you showing genuine effort and interest seen as a bad thing (I don't mean love bombing, that's a whole different thing)? If you genuinely like each other, why is the social rule saying that you shouldn’t show that? Same goes with friendships, why is showing interest in the person you want to get to know sometimes, somehow, a bad thing? To a point that some people can get put off by that effort someone is showing to get to know them? Not saying everyone is like this, because I know there are so many people who aren’t. And plenty people also disregard these social rules because they aren’t actually concrete rules. 

This is just a social construct and I’m trying to figure out why it is, because it seems counter productive? By what logic does it work? How are you supposed to make friends/date, if them showing interest in you makes you exit the relationship/ghost/breadcrumb?

How long are we supposed to only talk in one line texts about surface level stuff, to avoid being too much/too intense, before it’s acceptable? How do you know you’re following the same social timelines with the people you’re trying to get close to, when there’s no actual set rules? Someone might think you have to wait three days after a date to get in touch, but someone else will get offended if you take longer than two. But the next day or the same day is too desperate to some folk? And I'm talking about this from the point of view of someone who doesn't have trouble reading social cues/expectations. Can't even imagine dealing with this mess if that wasn't the case. Like what's the point of having these 'rules' if it just makes things more difficult for everyone? :')

These rules, technically, don't need to exist at all. It's all made up, based on... Something? We can always dismiss them ourselves but I'd like to know why they came to be and why we keep upholding them. I want to know the social purpose y'know? Is it a safety thing? Protecting yourself and not wanting to be vulnerable? That'd be valid, of course. But it does seem self sabotaging as it blocks people from actually making the connections they say they want to have?

I’ve been trying to find any research on the social behaviour regarding this, but I’m not sure what to even look up lol. Especially because I think the way we interact and behave has changed so much just in the last five years even. 

I just find it so curious that there’s so many headlines about loneliness epidemic, but people also recoil away from others when someone does show them genuine interest and wants to talk to them.   

I’ve had this initial ‘disinterest’ stage happen in the friendship context more. Also sudden, out of nowhere, communication ending/ghosting disinterest when trying to make friends (like please hurt my heart some more I beg u lmao). I haven’t really dated in the last few years so I don’t personally know how that field is at the moment, but I know ghosting is really common and people actively try to hold back from showing interest at first, even if they are reallyreally interested.

Maybe I’ll try looking more into the effects on social media etc, there’s a lot about ghosting in that context. But I just feel like it’s not quite what I mean, because I feel this disinterest phenomenon thing is separate from ghosting. 

Anyway! Happy Sunday loll xx

[likeabxrdinflight]

yugioh fics that use the 4kids dub characterizations just...you're not invalid for it because the dub exists but like...why

[sheepgirlmaidtummy]

i think i have this fear of being seen as a liar i think. like. everyone does it. and as a kid i stole stuff all the time and the way that was dealt with kinda just fucked with my head. do people see my kindness and my compassion as manipulation? am i read as someone trying to tear down the walls so i can get something while ur guard is down?. idk why someone thinking that of me makes me feel so miserable like. what if they were right? ive made mistakes before.. whos to say they arent right about this time? i dont want to stop being kind but it scares me to think about that.

[ipona]

So like the 00's emo I am, I have been listening to a lot of MCR lately, and tell me The Sharpest Lives isn't a ACOSF era Tamsand song?!?!?!?

Like??????

ITS THEM

/SOBS

[thelastspeecher]

I am v glad I managed to have an appointment with a dietitian to go over how to find my specific food triggers, bc otherwise I would be completely in the dark

like, so many of the things that I have tested that I was told I would be very unlikely to tolerate due to high fructose (such as watermelon and apple), I was fine with

but then half a small zucchini fucking destroys me

[sampilled]

😒😒😒😒 i understand all of the bitter samgirls...

[mothecho]

Pretty sure I am losing one of my friendships. Please be gentle with me/remind me I’m loved, I’m going to be melancholy and sensitive for at least a week. I really thought I had a good friendship with this person, so I feel pretty blindsided. May elaborate more later if I want to vent.

[beauzos]

i don't know what it is. i can't explain it. but every image of Ulysses S Grant just exudes crying cat, like defeated energy

why is he so sad. is it just me

[welcometogrouchland]

idk how I developed the hc that Raine and Darius were briefly foster siblings in their last year of highschool. But I did. And now I think about it 24/7