#and they only enable each other

[hythlodaes]

until we get it right emile/estinien - 1.9k words cw for references to past violence

wild west au heavily inspired by this gpose by @coldshrugs <3 estinien becomes something of an outlaw in seeking his personal vengeance, and emile is sent to stop him but ends up joining him at the promise of earning his own. title + fragments come from wishbone by richard siken!

��let’s just get going, let’s just get gone...

—

They make camp for the night.

Or rather, Estinien makes camp for the night while Emile stands far too still in the distance. Estinien stares at the line of his back through the softening smoke. They’ve hardly spoken a word since they skipped town—what was supposed to be a quick stop for supplies ended in nearly getting caught, and more violence than either of them intended. They’re a safe distance away, enough that Estinien felt comfortable building a fire and setting out their bedrolls, gathering the food rations they have left, and all the while Emile has stood by the creek, unmoving. 

He said he was just going to wash up. 

Estinien’s jaw aches from clenching it this whole time. The answers to his questions feel too far out of reach—they’ve been through too much to know what’s wrong without asking. Estinien told him there would be bloodshed from the beginning, and it was a warning and a promise all the same. It’s the reason why Emile joined up with him at all.

Come on, he thinks to himself. Just move. 

But nothing changes as the fire cracks to life, the only sound besides the wind chasing through this empty space. 

It’s just them, and sometimes Estinien wishes it wasn’t. 

“Emile!” he calls, gritting his teeth at the harsh sound of his voice cutting through the evening. Emile still doesn’t move, doesn’t turn his head, and Estinien swears under his breath before he gets up. He repeats his name as he draws closer, the sound of his boots crunching over the dirt. Emile’s hands are clenched at his sides, but as Estinien finally reaches him, he can see the way they shake. 

“You over here sulking, or what?” Estinien asks, refusing to let his heart soften at the way Emile stares into the water, his face marked red with blood, his sleeve soaked with it from where the bullet grazed his arm. He finally looks over at Estinien, his eyes dark, his mouth pulled into a tight line, and it takes a long moment for Estinien to realize that he’s angry. 

“Why did you do that?” Emile asks, and his usually soft voice turns sharp. He doesn’t need to clarify—Estinien can still see the gun pointed at Emile, can still recall the way he didn’t hesitate to raise his own to protect him. It was just one quick pull of the trigger...  

“Because you’d be dead if I didn’t,” he answers, glancing at Emile’s injured arm. A few inches over and that would’ve gone through his heart. Emile’s brows pinch together before he looks away. 

“I could’ve taken him.”

“You could’ve had a hole in your chest,” Estinien bites out. “Then where would I be?” 

You. He’d meant to say you. 

Luckily, Emile is too upset to notice. “His blood should’ve been on my hands, Estinien” 

“You don’t owe me, if that’s what you’re wonderin’.”

“It isn’t about that,” he returns. “I...”

Estinien waits, but Emile doesn’t finish his thought. They stand side by side at the edge of the creek, and the setting sun ignites the shallow water in shades of pink and orange. Estinien kicks a rock into the stream. “Is this still about your honor?” 

“No,” he answers, and the anger leaves his voice entirely. “Just forget it.” 

Finally, he moves. He turns back towards camp, taking off his hat as he shakes his hair out. He looks golden in this light, like something that was made to reflect the sun, and this time Estinien is the one frozen where he stands, trying to understand what he meant. 

He pulls his bandana free from his neck and wrings it out in the water a few times before he follows him back to their camp. He means to hand it to him but falters as he approaches him sitting by the fire, frowning at the flames. He looks up at Estinien with a question in his eye that only grows as Estinien crouches before him. 

“You’ve got...” Estinien trails off. Emile glances between him and the bandana in his hand, eyes cautious, but he nods. Estinien lifts it to wipe at the dried blood on his cheek, keeping his touch as gentle as he can. He can feel Emile’s gaze still on him, but he focuses instead on his tanned skin, on the freckles that multiply daily as they travel by the relentless sun. He can feel Emile’s breath against the side of his hand—the way it comes shallow, the way he holds it as Estinien brushes the corner of his mouth. 

There’s an ache in Estinien’s chest that never goes away. 

“Take off your shirt,” he says as he pulls back, ignoring how his hand trembles the slightest at the thought of taking it off himself. “You can borrow my other one until we have the time to mend it.”

Emile shakes his head. “It’ll do for some time yet. It just needs a wash.” 

Still, he undoes the buttons and Estinien looks away, retreating to grab his makeshift medicine bag from the saddle. It’s no more than a few tinctures and a bandage, but that’s all he needs. When he returns, he stops short at the sight of Emile by the fire’s glow. The flames lick at his naked skin, orange light ghosting over his exposed muscles as he pushes his hair to his uninjured side. 

The wound, Estinien reminds himself. 

It’s uglier up close, grazing his bicep, angry and raw. It’s stopped bleeding but it’s still completely open, and Estinien takes a breath before he touches his elbow, pulling his arm closer. There’s a chill that’s settled in with the night, but Emile’s skin is warm against his hands, making him want to draw even closer. Emile merely keeps his gaze locked on the fire in front of him as Estinien begins to wrap the bandage around his arm. 

“My Ma taught me how to do this,” Estinien murmurs, just to fill the silence between them. “I was always bleedin’ from one injury or another—I think she knew it would save my ass someday.” 

It gets Emile to look at him, his eyes still so dark. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but then, quietly, “Do you miss her?”

Estinien swallows hard. “Every day.” 

He thinks Emile’s the only person that knows this side of him. He’s the only person he’d let see this side of him. They’re in this together, and sometimes that feels like a vow of its own. They’re married to their vengeance, and they will see it through or they will die—they would rather walk through hell than leave the crimes against them unanswered.  

It’s something only they can understand now, and as much as they rile against each other, it binds them together. 

It leaves room for confessions like this:

“I don’t know how I can go home after this,” Emile chokes out as his breath hitches. “I don’t know how I can face my mother.”

Estinien doesn’t let his hands pause. He finishes wrapping the bandage around his arm, each motion smooth and methodical, something reassuring where words can’t be. There’s nothing he could possibly say—they aren’t good men, and they’ve walked too far down this path to turn back now. 

“Is that what you want?” he asks. “To go home?” 

Emile shakes his head. “No, I… I need to do this, but I won’t be able to forgive myself for it.”

Estinien ties off the bandage but finds that he can’t let go of him yet. He smooths his thumb across the skin beneath it, and his next words come hushed: “Can you forgive me?” 

“You don’t spare me any guilt by killin’ for me.” 

“I’m not trying to,” he murmurs. “I’m just keeping you alive.”

“Why?” 

The sky grows darker, and with it the fire glows brighter. It highlights the pain in Emile’s eyes, and Estinien thinks he could do anything for him—he could protect him, he could avenge his father, he could bandage any wound, but there’s nothing he could do to take that hurt away. 

He thinks he’d still like to try. 

“Because you hum when we’re on the trail—for hours at a time. It must be every song you ever heard, because each time I look back, I think, he’s bound to stop after this one, and then you keep humming. It annoys the hell out of me,” Estinien says, and he finds his smile threatens to crack at Emile’s soft laugh. He takes a breath, sobering as he feels the full weight of it in his chest. “It would be awfully quiet without you, Emile.” 

Emile stares at him for a moment before he turns away, scrubbing his free hand over his face, and his voice is muffled and shaky when he says, “I can stop humming, if it annoys you.” 

“No,” he says, and he laughs despite the way it aches. “We’ll keep going, okay? Just as we are.” 

“Just as we are,” Emile repeats. He looks back at Estinien, eyes a little watery but he nods. He pulls his arm away from where Estinien still holds it, and then he gets up, digging through their bag for the spare shirt they have. He throws it on while Estinien throws another piece of wood on the fire, and it seems that they agree on letting the conversation go. 

He doesn’t say anything when Emile lays on his bedroll after—doesn’t say that it’s too early to sleep, that they haven’t eaten yet, that he feels like all his emotions have spilled out everywhere to be seen. He stays up, staring into the fire as the stars begin to turn in the sky, and he listens for any danger in the distance. It’s just them. 

It’s just them, and most of the time Estinien is grateful for that. 

He doesn’t remember when they started placing their bedrolls next to each other, but it’s become part of their routine. It makes it easier to share body heat when the night grows cold, but neither of them say anything when they curl up together regardless of the temperature. Estinien tosses one more piece of wood on the fire before laying beside Emile. He listens to the sound of his breathing, judging if it’s heavy and even enough to mean he’s asleep, before he inches closer to press his back along his. 

Like this, they guard each other through the night. 

In the morning, they can pretend that this didn’t happen. In the morning they can wash the blood clean from Emile’s shirt and stitch up the hole in the sleeve. They have a lead on their next destination, and they’ll pack up their horses and take to the road, where Estinien will count the minutes since the last time he looked over his shoulder at Emile. He’ll memorize the slight smile that pulls at Emile’s lips under the shadow of his hat, and he’ll ignore the warmth in his chest, the weight of his gun at his hip, and all that he would do to keep him safe. 

And maybe, one of these days, they’ll find what they’re looking for. 

—

Do you know how it ends? Do you feel lucky? Do you want to go home now?

[lucabyte]

i like when people draw kris deltarune and john homestuck together because it is cute and they are both my little sweetums but also kris would smoke that little fucker bad. they'd scare 13 year old john so much.

[yrsonpurpose]

It’s been one long, long year of learning Henry inside and out, learning himself, learning how much he still had to learn.

[grungecoded]

base

whipped

[deadtiredghost]

the only reason Tim Drake and Damian Wayne don't get along is because if they did the writers wouldn't be able to come up with a plot contrived enough for them to struggle with.

they would be the ultimate team if they could just work smoothly together.

but they cant so balance is restored to the world i guess.

[sgt-dignam]

when i tell you i felt fear in that moment like i've never felt in my life. but there was also this—this glimpse of something that i knew was there, but i couldn't...even with all the fucking horror, it was like, for the first time, i felt like there were threads that were finally starting to connect. connect how? I don't know.

Jade Herrera & Tabitha Matthews in FROM | 3.05 - The Light of Day

[warlenys]

house md, 4x03 / 8x21 / 8x22.

[theshadowrealmitself]

I love MJ and Harry getting engaged and it blowing up spectacularly because I love thinking about Harry and MJ being similar too each other, too similar that it just falls apart

Like MJ and Harry having shitty dads and being famous and wanting to leave town and run away from the shadows of their shitty home life, and even tho it’s usually only Harry who gets portrayed as developing a party lifestyle I can see MJ getting sucked into it

And so it makes sense that they’d get together, it’s so easy for them to do so, and especially if this is after a breakup with Peter because that was complicated they’d just want easy rn, but easy isn’t always best, and they end up learning that the hard way

And then ideally they’re still besties afterwards

[4thegays]

I will never get over the parallels of Marcus and Abby. I love these two so much because they understand each other in so a fundamental way that it scares them.

[raayllum]

like if we get funky fresh about it rayllum can be "i am the shape you made me, filth teaches filth" of callum taking all of rayla's worst habits/choices onto his back for his own implementation while she becomes increasingly willing to let him do so in the name of respecting and loving him unconditionally the same way he has with her!!

[extrahorribledynne]

Since ive been in a gravity falls and dresden files mood i inevitably have been thinking of various crossover related shenanigans since both series have a very playful relationship with their supernatural elements and have come to the conclusion that

If the stan twins went to chicago to investigate whatever monster of the week scenario was happening they and harry would probably get along just fine. Stan and harry like busty monster babes. Ford and harry are autistic abt supernatural things and have had demons inside their heads. Bestie material.

If harry somehow went to gravity falls however i think hed probably set off he and fords extremely similar paranoid neurosis and theyd end up trying to kill each other before they calmed down and worked together.

[rintinningvt]

Started watching the Bayverse movies with my besties and... Are we just too gay for these movies??? Admittedly we only finished the first two and got through a quarter of the third, but the second one was such a drag to sit through at times and it probably doesn't help that we do NOT care about Sam that much. I hope that there is a character arc for him in the rest of the third movie. Because so far he has not been fun to watch in that one. He just comes off as a slight manchild to me, like... I can see why he would be frustrated with where he is in life but the way he acts with others and lashes out does not help him in the slightest. I do have to admit though that seeing him go to Cybertronian Heaven in the second movie was the funniest part for me and my besties lol.

I'll just hope that the other guy in the next movies will be at least a bit more interesting. Doesn't even have to be a good guy, just an interesting guy for me lol

[cinnabeat]

this is completely out of nowhere but i think i will be old and gray and it will be pkmn gen 79 and i will still be sitting there in my probable rocking chair saying "oh i cant wait until they make a pokemon special anime"

[crystalis]

i really appreciate my mutuals on here that ive followed for a really long time and indirectly spoken to / communicated with through reading each others text posts and liking each others pictures and stuff

i was just thjnking about how painful and agonizing everything is sometimes for everyone and yet i have this freaking object that i stare at and hold in my hands all the time and im (sorta) communicating with people everywhere.. and thats really beautiful, wow..

although i think social media / smartphones is peobably having a negative effect on people really badly.. idk theres good and bad to it

its really amazing how connected random people are from everywhere, like i was thinking about how people can speak to each other from around the world because of the internet. but theres also this distance of like.. just following people and liking posts. you know the social media thing where you follow people and dont talk. and looking at pictures, its like theres a glass / opaque wall blocking a lot of things

i think scrolling social media for years while my brain was developing and while i hid in my bedroom during my 20s and pushed people away (real life people in real life, not the people behind the sorta opaque glass wall that i interact with through liking their posts and they like my posts and we look at each others pictures and know extremely personal things about each other) but expressing my feelings by mostly just .. retweeting things on various sites i think has had a very negative effect on my ability to express my feelings and communicate with others .. and i wonder how many other people in the world experience this same thing, how many people in the world have lost themselves in isolation to the point of feeling mute and invisible while endlessly scrolling social media and having small interactions with others through this glass wall thing, and it is just fulfilling enough

and thinking about that makes me sad but i dont want it to sound too negative because the internet is really beautiful and amazing and being able to communicate with people around the world so easily and quickly is crazy becuase thats such a recent thing like in the totality of human history.. like we're so lucky (along with the good and bad) to be living in this era of the internet becoming a thing thats everywhere and almost everyone uses and are connected in some way

[notmoreflippingelves]

Obsessed with the dynamic (not romantic, not platonic, but a secret third thing--both and yet neither) between two characters who knew and cared about each deeply years ago when they were both younger and life was much less complicated.

But then, tragic, transformative circumstances separated them. Assuming that this separation was certainly permanent, because how could it not be?

And yet, somehow finding each other again years later, and sometimes they aren't sure whether the reunion that they once longed for with every fiber of their beings is a blessing, a curse, a joke, or a punishment.

Because they've both changed in the intervening years--largely because of the hellish circumstances that caused their separation. They've both changed completely and irrevocably, even if one of them has changed much more noticeably and dramatically than the other to the point of seeming a complete stranger. It is about leaning to see and appreciate all the things that have changed about the other and all the things that have not changed. It's about learning to reconcile beloved, often rose-tinted memories with the complex, yet-equally-compelling reality of the person those memories are about.

[dropthedemiurge]

– утешение –

I will hold you while you mourn your broken heart until you feel alive again

// More Only Friends fanart //