#but still be worth loving and being friends with

[drchucktingle]

As an autistic person, did you struggle to make and keep friends? And have you found friends through the writing world? I ask because my mom always said i needed to find my people. I did finally find them (they are neurodiverse trans nerds, haha), but not until i was like 30. And i wonder if its true of other autistic people too. So i guess my question is: did you find your people, and when?

thank you this is good question. i have always had a LOT of CLOSE BUDS even from a very young age. i would actually say that i am unusually socially adept in my way and that it is partially BECAUSE of my autistic trot. LETS TALK ON THAT FOR A MOMENT

'BUT CHUCK YOU SAID YOU ARE ON THE SPECTRUM AND AUTISTIC BUCKAROOS CANNOT BE SOCIALLY ADEPT' some say. and sure it is UNUSUAL overall, technically speaking, but there is also an important reason we talk about this as a spectrum of buckaroos and not a monolith

when buckaroos ask me what it is like to be autistic i try to explain like this: there are certain cues and markers from the outside that serve as a sort of identification checklist but because of masking they are not always correct. instead i see it as question of WHAT IS IT LIKE INSIDE YOUR BRAIN?

internally my brain is different. its taking in way more information all the time, including the stuff that neurotypical buds block out, and that can become overwhelming. it is hard to navigate because i do not have that automatic neurotypical 'here is what is important here is what is not' function

so yes i can be easily distracted and zone out as i watch the patterns and fractals spin off. and yes i can miss certain things in social situations. in many autistic buckaroos this makes large groups overwhelming and the OUTPUT of behavior matches what we typically know as signs of autism

FOR ME however, same thing is going on inside, but i have managed to HARNESS that information. even from very young age i see that everyone is DOING THE HUMAN ACT but instead of rejecting that and shutting off i think 'well okay i am just going to do THIS because thats what they actually want'

in other words, most neurotypical buds say one thing that has a kind of spiraling social-cue-related OTHER MEETING (they do this ALL the time) and instead of rejecting that i have trained myself to be REALLY REALLY good at knowing the hidden meaning. it is EMPATHY but on a sort of LOGIC BASED level

and because i have always been pretty good at that, people like to trot around me and say 'wow this is a good friend they understand me'. now for ME that can be a little exhausting and there are things i need to do and stims and all that to release the effort, but overall it is worth it to me

OTHER THING is that i was a successful CREATOR AND ARTIST BUCKAROO from an early age which is socially seen as 'cool' especially when you are trotting around in your youth. it is not particularly FAIR but it is true that some level of fame makes buds treat you well even if you are 'weird'.

of course it can be a sort of FAKE 'treating you well' but as an autistic buckaroo it is still more of a chance than you might otherwise get. this timeline has sort of carved out a very special little sliver of social grace for the token odd artistic weirdo to have a seat at each cool kids table

ANYWAY that is the trot of my life. it is a unique trot that i dont get to talk on much but since you asked THERE YOU GO. every chance i get to say 'I LOVE BEING AUTISTIC' and talk on HOW MUCH IT HAS IMPROVED MY LIFE i try to take a moment and do that. when i was young i had few autistic heroes

and OF COURSE it can be difficult and overwhelming and we need to have space for those stories and voices, but i want young buckaroos who get this diagnosis to know there are ALL KINDS of stories and trots on the autism spectrum. MINE IS PRETTY DANG COOL and maybe yours will be too. LOVE IS REAL

[ihavenoideahowtodream]

if you are seeing something telling you how to get rid of something that developed slowly with your aging and generally would take more than 15 mins to reasonably manage in your daily hygiene routine esp if the thing they are telling you will immediately fix your wrinkles, scars, cellulite, yellowed teeth, etc cost more than 20 bucks (usd for me at least) then the only thing ugly in that ad are their words.

You dont go wrinkle free at ~ 35+ cause youve been playing in the sun for decades. Gray hairs happen in your 20s and on. Cellulite is a result of normal body fat retention. It is good you have it too because if you get sick and/or have eating limitations or irritations then your body will start taking nutrients from your muscles and organs. That Spare Tire that you have that means you get jeans two sizes larger than this ad is telling you should have is good to have cause sometimes you get sick and it will take longer for your organs to start shutting down if you are loosing weight from your love handles than the muscles in your legs making it harder to walk. your legs will still get weaker but not be actively depleted so quickly.

white teeth also dont exist. it is something tooth paste companies have come up with to sell you more expensive toothpaste and while for the most part it doesnt damage your teeth it is more abrasive than non whitening toothpaste so if you have bad teeth of some kind or have a diet that can soften your enamel already like regular pop consumption it can damage your teeth more. understandably, there is a sliding scale of teeth yellowing for concern, if your teeth look like a school bus then discussing with your dentist about if you are experiencing gum disease is advisable but the damn tissue test is the same arbitrary scale where there are a million was to be a person incorrectly but theres no ideal person that isnt steeped in classism at best and racism at worst. And if your school bus yellow teeth are declared healthy by your dentist then you dont need to worry about them any more. and just because your teeth are as white as the us congress wont always mean you teeth are healthy either. I have a friend who is neurotic about brushing their teeth and have been for the full decade ive known them who was told they have reversible but mild gum disease. contrasted to my adhd ass who brushed my teeth once a week maybe till i finally put my toothbrush in my shower 6 mo ago. I had a singular mild cavity when i went to the dentist for the first time in 15 years last year.

the concept also that you have to pay a bunch of money otc to be "beautiful" is an obvious indicator of scams. Olay's anti wrinkle creams they sell for upwards of $50 (usd) and other brands being almost $200? thats just evil. wrinkles are fine. and we dont have to call them beautiful, or sexy, or signs of wisdom. cause they may or may not be for what ever reason. That kind of language is still commodifying an individual's body as the indicator of their moral worth. Like i genuinely hate the 2025 US president and have always found the jokes about his orange skin amusing. however, the fact that americans first and primary dig at a person they dislike, for what ever reason, is their skin color that whether manufactured or not it is unchangeable by the viewer and by the viewed at the time of the insult displays our idea that association of physical features and moral depravity can walk hand in hand.

the most basic levels of presentability are quite simple: keep your hair tagle free to the limitations of your hair type and use protective hair styles and wraps if it makes sense for you. dont have obvious smudges of dirt or such on face, hands, and clothing. general anti odor hygiene like a form of deodorant or a mint after spicy food. keep nails trimmed and clean. and have clothing on that you obviously feel comfort in- for some this is sweat pants and a hoodie with crocks, others a cocktail dress or suit and leather dress shoes, or like myself tight pants for compression pain management and coordinated colors for my own visual comfort when looking in a mirror and boots with ankle support that are at least mid calf high so i dont have to bend as far to tie them assuming they arent slip on. and the clothes also lacking smells like a cat pee odor.

and like this is baseline presentability for going out with friends, interacting with someone professionally, going on a date, or some other equivalent.

Make up (including foux and uv tanning), nail polish, hair dying and time consuming at home styling, impractical shoes, jewelry, designer clothes and accessories, and other things marketed as necessary for you to be the best and most attractive version of who you are exist for fun and should be enjoyed as games. however, participation in these things should be respected as much as the general presentability practices.

someone in designer clothes with styled naturally voluminous curly hair with makeup that had a bill with 4 digits on the receipt and someone who looks like they woke up in a ditch after a three day bachelor party they only remember the first 20 mins of have the exact same value and deserve the exact same respect no matter where they are.

beauty ads have the same message across the board:

you must buy your value and we decide if you bought it correctly.

their determination is always gonna be that you did not buy your value correctly so buy this other thing in the hopes we decide youve bought value correctly. and they never say you bought your value to their satisfaction so that you keep buying from them

beauty ads will kill you if you let them.

companies make billions from you thinking you're ugly btw. only ugly thing is their bottom line. log out of tiktok right now.

[wchswift]

─── SO HIGH SCHOOL

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: As teenagers, you and Dean had a whirlwind romance before everything fell apart. Years later, you reunite—and it’s like high school all over again.

contents! mutual pining, teenage love, soft, flirting and touching, stupid in love dean, mdni 𖤐 18+

word count: 2.8k

𝒟ean masterlist !

Dean was the first and only real love you had.

Well, not exactly real. And maybe not exactly love.

He was the good part of your day. That person you knew would be there. The person who made school possible and tolerable.

Dean was always known for his charm, for his way with girls. For always having them. But the moment Dean joined your group of friends and you two became even remotely close, it was as if something, a connection, that you didn't know could exist, finally made itself present within you.

It wasn't something verbalized, something explicit. But as soon as you had your first kiss, there was no one else. No other girl in school had a chance with him. He wouldn't let you go, and much less took his eyes off you.

Everything felt so real. Even if it was just between the lines.

He was the best "relationship" you ever had. The best moments and the best treatment you had from a boy were with Dean Winchester.

And then just as it all began, suddenly he wasn't there anymore.

One night you two were together in the back seat of the car and the next morning he was gone from town, without any explanation.

And when you were seventeen, that was the last time you saw Dean.

You and Dean were sure you would never see each other again. You were teenagers, it was normal. People come and go from school all the time, it was common to meet people at school and then never see them again, never find out how they are.

This is what you and Dean thought things would be like. Just a memory that would fade in time. Never having to worry about looking each other in the eye again.

But when was anything ever simple in Dean Winchester's life?

A case never ended up being just a case.

The small town didn’t exactly scream "monster hotspot," but something was definitely off. Three people had vanished without a trace in the past two months, all last seen at the same place—a cozy little diner on Main Street that doubled as a bookstore. The place was old-school charming, the kind of spot with checkered floors, the scent of fresh coffee in the air, and a tiny bell over the door that jingled whenever a customer walked in. Nothing about it screamed "supernatural danger," but Dean had learned long ago that the worst things often hid in the most ordinary places.

“Alright, so we got three missing persons, no bodies, and a common location,” Sam said, flipping through his notes. “No signs of struggle, no EMF spikes, no sulfur. If it’s something supernatural, it’s keeping a low profile.”

Dean tapped his fingers against the Impala’s steering wheel, squinting at the diner across the street. “Or it’s just smart. Maybe a witch, maybe something we haven’t seen before.”

Sam sighed. “So, the usual—talk to employees, check out security footage, dig through lore?”

Dean smirked. “Aw, you're so smart, Sammy.”

With that, they climbed out of the car and crossed the street, the bell over the door announcing their arrival. The place was warm and inviting, filled with the quiet hum of conversation and the soft crackle of pages turning. Dean barely had time to take it all in before his gaze landed on someone behind the counter.

He recognized you instantly. There wouldn't be a day that he wouldn't.

You were busy jotting something down, focused on a customer, completely unaware of him—at first. Dean’s stomach tightened, his pulse kicking up. It had been years, but damn if you wasn’t still the same girl he remembered—just sharper, more grown-up, but still you. The girl who had once snuck out of your house to meet him, who had laughed against his lips under the Friday night stadium lights, who had looked at him like he was worth something—until he left without saying goodbye.

When you lifted your head, ready to serve the new customers, that’s when you saw him.

For a second, just a second, your eyes met, and he saw it: the flicker of recognition, the moment your heart probably dropped into your stomach the same way his had.

To this day, Dean always remembers the way you used to look at him. The sparkle in your eyes, the way they seemed to smile, emanating happiness and trust.

Just seeing you made him feel as if he were in high school again.

And now? Now you were standing behind the counter, your apron tied around your waist, a pen tucked behind your ear, looking at him like you weren’t sure whether to punch him or pretend he didn’t exist.

Dean opened his mouth, but for once in his life, words failed him.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you finally muttered, eyes narrowing.

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, Dean—?"

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, Sammy.” Dean snapped out of it, forcing a grin. “Long time, no see, sweetheart.”

"Didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Winchester.” Your voice was calm, even, but there was an edge to it, a quiet challenge. "Guess life’s full of surprises."

Dean exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… guess it is."

Sam, ever the unfortunate third wheel, glanced between them and shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, we’re actually here about the disappearances. We’re—"

"FBI?" you cut in, lifting a brow. "Do you want me to believe that you two are FBI?"

Dean had to bite back a smirk. Of course you weren’t buying their act. You had always been sharp. Always saw right through him.

Sam hesitated. "We just have a few questions."

You sighed, tapping your fingers against the counter before jerking your chin toward an empty booth in the corner. "Fine. Take a seat. I’ll be over in a minute."

Dean watched as you turned on your heel, disappearing into the back. Only when you were out of sight did he let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face.

“Well,” Sam muttered, “that wasn’t awkward at all.”

Dean ignored him, eyes still locked on the door you had just walked through.

Yeah. This case just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

Only to get better, when you return, you decided to act as if he didn't exist. There was no sign of recognition on your face. No lingering shock, no flicker of emotion. Just cool, effortless professionalism, like you didn’t just have the wind knocked out of you moments ago.

A notebook is in your hand now, the pen twirling between your fingers as you slide into the seat across from them. Your eyes flick briefly to Sam—acknowledging him first, like Dean isn’t even there.

“So,” you say, tone even. “What exactly do you want to know? If this is about the disappearances, let me say I don’t know much. Just that they all came in here before they went missing. We gave their names to the cops already”

Dean leaned in, arms folding as he tilted his head slightly. “You always this helpful, sweetheart?”

The nickname made your eye twitch—barely.

You finally, finally glanced at him, and for a second, all he could see was the fire behind your gaze.

“I try my best, agent.” Your lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Anything else?”

Sam cleared his throat, glancing between the two of you, clearly picking up on the weird energy but too polite, more like too damn confused, to say anything. “Uh—right. But anything else you might’ve noticed? Strange behavior? Anyone bothering them?”

You exhaled through your nose. “Not that I remember.”

Feeling that with all this tension he wasn't going to get anywhere, Sam decided to stop there. “Alright, I think that’s all we need for now, then. If you remember anything else, let us know.”

With a nod, you began to rise from your seat, your body moving almost instinctively as you embraced the end of the conversation. “Sure thing."

As Dean watched you walk back to the counter, he couldn't believe you acted as if he wasn’t even there. However, if you thought that was the end of it, you were mistaken. Now that Dean had found you again, he wasn’t planning to just walk away. Not this time.

“Dude,” Sam muttered, voice low, snapping Dean out of his reverie. “What the hell was that?”

Dean exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “It’s complicated.”

Sam frowned. “Yeah, no kidding. You gonna fill me in?”

Dean didn’t answer right away, just watched as you disappeared through the swinging door behind the counter.

He used to love watching you walk away. Now it just felt like he was losing you all over again.

After a beat, he pushed up from the booth. “I’ll be back.”

Sam sighed. “Dean—”

But Dean was already moving.

The back door of the diner led to a narrow hallway—one he knew you’d taken to get a breather. It was quieter back here, the hum of conversation fading into a dull murmur.

And sure enough, there you were.

Your hands braced on the edge of a small counter, eyes closed, breathing deep. He knew that look. Knew you were trying to steady yourself, get your walls up before he could knock them down.

Too late.

“Still not gonna look at me?”

Your shoulders tensed at his voice, but you didn’t turn. “What do you want, Dean?”

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folding. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe a little acknowledgment? A hey, Dean, long time no see. Thought you were dead or in jail—”

“Wouldn’t have been surprised.”

Dean let out a sharp breath, a humorless smirk twitching at his lips. “Yeah, well. Didn’t end up that way.”

Silence.

You reached up, rubbing your temple, like talking to him was physically painful.

And hell, maybe it was.

After a beat, you finally turned to face him, arms crossing. Your eyes were sharp, guarded. But there was something else beneath it. Something raw.

“Why are you here, Dean?”

His chest ached at the way you said his name. Not like you used to—soft, familiar, like it meant something. Now it just sounded… tired.

“Job brought us here,” he said, keeping it simple.

You studied him, unconvinced. “And what? You thought, hey, let’s stop by and ruin her day while we’re at it?”

Dean huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, because that’s what I wanted. To see you look at me like I’m a damn ghost.”

You flinched. It was quick—so quick he almost missed it. But he didn’t.

And suddenly, the fight drained out of you. Your gaze dropped for the first time since this whole thing started, fingers tightening against your sleeves.

Dean’s throat worked.

He could push. Could try to get you to really talk, break down that wall you were building brick by brick.

But the way you looked right now? Like you were holding yourself together with nothing but sheer will—

He couldn’t do it.

Not yet.

Instead, he exhaled, running a hand down his face. “Look. I don’t know how long we’ll be in town. But I think we’re gonna be crossing paths whether you like it or not.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

Dean nodded, stepping back. “Just… don’t pretend I was never here, alright?”

And with that, he walked away.

He didn’t see the way your jaw clenched, the way your fingers curled into fists like you were stopping yourself from reaching out—

Didn’t hear the breath you let out, shaky and uneven, as soon as he was gone.

You knew this wasn’t the end—couldn’t be. Deep down, you knew that your story with Dean Winchester was far from over. And you knew that the moment he decided to see you again, he would pull you close once more, weaving his way into your heart until you could never imagine leaving his side again.

Weeks passed.

Looking back, you weren’t sure when exactly everything shifted.

Maybe it was after Dean came back to the diner and made you listen while he told you the truth—even though at the time you were sure that the man you once loved was completely insane.

But maybe it was when you started helping with the case, and somewhat believing him—not because you wanted to be a hunter, but because you wanted to be with him.

Or maybe it was just inevitable. Like gravity pulling you back into his orbit, like you never really had a choice in the first place.

All you knew was that, suddenly, it felt like before—like sneaking out past curfew, like warm summer air and stolen kisses in the Impala, like every love song that made your chest ache.

Only now, you weren’t kids anymore.

And Dean Winchester had never been the kind of guy to love halfway.

Which was how you ended up here.

Sitting in a diner, trying to pretend like Dean’s hand wasn’t sliding up your thigh under the table.

Across from you, Sam exhaled sharply through his nose. His patience was wearing thin.

“Dude,” he gritted out, glaring at Dean. “Can you stop touching her for five seconds?”

Dean, the picture of innocence, took a sip of his coffee. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sammy.”

Sam’s expression was pained.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, but when Dean leaned in—his lips brushing your ear when he definitely didn’t need to be that close—you swatted at his chest.

“Dean.”

“What?” He smirked, not even pretending to be sorry. “Just admiring my girl.”

Sam muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like I hate this.

But it only got worse from there.

Dean was relentless.

His hands were always on you—an arm wrapped around your waist, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, palm resting low on your back. He kissed your temple absentmindedly, whispered things that made you flush, smirked when he caught you looking at him like you still had a teenage crush on Dean Winchester.

Because you did.

You always had.

Later, at Bobby’s, the three of you sprawled in the living room—Dean practically wrapped around you on the couch, arms snug around your waist, his breath warm against your neck.

Sam was across the room, doing some research on his laptop, eyes glued to the screen as if sheer focus could block out the absolute nonsense happening beside him.

Dean, completely unbothered, nosed at your temple. “You cold?”

You weren’t.

At all.

But you hummed innocently, just to see what he’d do.

Dean, ever the problem, tugged you closer, his hands sliding beneath the hem of your sweater, tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

You shivered.

He felt it.

And he smirked.

“You’re shameless,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip to repress a smile.

Dean nipped at your jaw. “Yeah?” His lips brushed your ear, and God, you felt it everywhere.

“Hey.” His voice was quiet, meant just for you. “Wanna know somethin’?”

You swallowed. “What?”

Dean shifted, his mouth so close his breath fanned warm against your skin. “First time I saw you? When we were stupid teenagers?” His hands traced higher, fingers barely grazing the edge of your bra. “Damn near forgot how to breathe.”

Your stomach plummeted.

“Dean.”

“Mm?”

Your heart hammered, but you fought to keep your voice steady. “Sam is right there.”

Dean pulled back just enough to glance at his brother—who was clearly tuning you out, laser-focused on not acknowledging this entire situation.

“If he has a problem, he can get up and leave.”

You swatted at his chest, biting back a laugh, but when you turned to face him, his expression shifted—no teasing, no smugness. Just him, looking at you like he was seeing you all over again.

His fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up.

And just like that, you felt seventeen again.

God, what was it about him that made you feel like this?

That made you ache?

Dean’s lips parted, his gaze flickering down to your mouth.

Your breath caught.

He grinned—slow, lazy, devastating. “You gonna let me kiss you, sweetheart?”

You were sure your heartbeat was so loud.

Sam made a strangled noise in the background.

Dean groaned, dropping his head back against the couch. “Jesus Christ, Sammy, just leave the damn room.”

“I'm living here too,” Sam deadpanned, not directing his gaze towards you.

Dean huffed, shaking his head before turning back to you—his eyes darker now, filled with something deep and warm and completely unshakable.

You swallowed, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

This man knew what he wanted and, boy, he definitely got you.

But God, Dean Winchester was so much. And he had been from the start.

And you were so gone for him.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

lina's notes: I should have posted this a long time ago lol, but it didn't turn out exactly how I wanted and I was a little unsure but I hope you liked it <3

taglist: @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bettystonewell @rositaslabyrinth @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @freeluigihesbae (if you want to be removed or added let me know <3)

[prythiansprincess]

best friend's brother! tom finally gets you alone

NAVIGATION // home. tag. moodboard. more.

author's note: the demons...they're getting loud again. i'm actually so feral for possessive and obsessive tom. I fear I might make this my whole personality now.

obsession. 

tom riddle was, in every sense of the word, obsessive. the fixation and compulsion he poured into the things he loved had always been a marker of his character. tom was not the type of person to casually partake in something; for the eldest riddle brother, the best things in life were worth being consumed by. 

and he was. 

utterly and irrevocably consumed by you. 

y/n, mattheo’s sweet and innocent best friend. the one whose pretty eyes and lovely smile haunted his every waking moment. the one whose honeyed voice played in his head like a melody and enticed him like a siren’s song. the one whose gentle touch sent his heart racing until he felt as though the damned thing was going to burst out of his bloody chest. 

you had no idea what you did to him, but you would soon enough because tom had a plan. for weeks, he had been plotting and scheming. trying to find the right time to finally get you all to himself. 

fortunately for him, the opportunity arose one fateful evening when mattheo left his phone unattended in the living room. it was so easy, almost too easy, to guess his brother’s password and open up his most recent text thread with you. 

mattheo: come over tonight? 

tom watched as three dots appeared on the screen, indicating that you were currently typing a response. 

y/n: will tom be there?

now that was interesting. perhaps you were asking because you wanted him to be there. wanted him as much as he wanted you. 

mattheo: yes. why do you ask?

y/n: I just don't want to be a bother. I know tom likes to study on tuesdays and me coming over would probably disrupt that.

tom couldn’t help but smile. such a thoughtful, caring girl. he couldn’t wait to ruin you. 

mattheo: tom will be fine. so, are you in or not?  i'll grab your favorite snacks. 

y/n: you had me at snacks.

half an hour later, you were standing in the doorway of the riddle home, dressed in one of those pretty little dresses that tom had imagined ripping off of your body a million times. as the door swung open, those innocent eyes widened at the sight of him. you flushed when tom met your gaze, a light pink hue dusting your cheeks. 

"oh. hi, tom. um, is mattheo here? he asked me to come over." 

tom casually leaned against the frame, giving you a once over that only deepened your flush. "my brother just stepped out, but he should be back soon." 

"o—okay. he's probably out getting snacks." 

tom watched as you lingered in the doorway, anxiously fidgeting with the hem of your dress. he thought it was adorable that you were still nervous around him after all this time. biting back a smile, tom opened the door to his home a little wider. 

"are you coming in?" 

“hm?” you asked absentmindedly. “oh. yeah. yes, i’m coming. not like that. I mean, obviously. shit. ignore me please.” 

tom raised a brow, but said nothing as he barely gave you enough of a gap to squeeze through the door. he smirked to himself as you maneuvered your way inside, perky breasts brushing against his solid chest. tom could smell the sweet scent of your strawberry shampoo as you passed through. he wanted to drown himself in it. you timidly avoided his gaze, choosing instead to follow him into the kitchen in silence.

“would you like something to drink?” 

you nodded. “yes, please, i’ll take a —”

before you could finish your sentence, tom handed you a cold can of vanilla cherry soda. your favorite. you thanked him with a shy smile before following him upstairs. instinctively, you turned in the direction of mattheo’s room, but tom gripped your wrist and kept you in place. 

“you can wait in my room if you’d like. mattheo might be a while. he reeked of weed when he left."

you chuckled. “it does take matty forever to pick out snacks when he’s high.” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other before glancing up at tom through your lashes. “are you sure you don’t mind? I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“i’m sure,” tom confirmed. “I could use the company.” 

with that, you followed tom into his room. unlike mattheo’s, tom’s room was neat and organized. everything was perfect and pristine, much like the man standing before you. tom busied himself by putting away the books and notes on his desk while you fiddled with your fingers, not quite knowing what to do with yourself. 

“sit on the bed,” tom commanded. “make yourself comfortable.” 

“okay.” you replied in a small, breathy voice. 

carefully, you settled at the edge of his bed and crossed your legs. you drummed your fingers against your thigh, pondering how strange this situation was. in all your years of knowing tom, you had never once set foot in his room. at most, you caught glimpses of it when you passed by on your way to mattheo’s room. 

everything was so foreign and interesting. that was the desk where tom does all his studying. that was the closet where he keeps all of his clothes. that was the night stand where he places his glasses on before he goes to sleep. 

that was the bed that he laid in every night. your mind started to wander through all the things that tom had done in this bed. maybe by himself. maybe with someone else. the intrusive thoughts fired off one by one, leaving you flustered. does he soak the sheets when he gets himself off? does he tie his partners to the bed post when he eats them out? does he push their faces into the pillows as he rails them from behind? 

you were so engrossed in your dirty and filthy fantasies that you nearly jumped out of your skin when tom rested a hand on your thigh. 

“hm,” tom hummed. “you’re so jumpy, love.” 

you held your breath as he leaned closer, his face mere inches away from yours. the tension between you ebbed before he carefully took the soda can in your hand and placed it neatly on his nightstand. tom smirked when he noticed the hitch in your breath at his close proximity.

“do I make you nervous, doll?” 

“yes,” you answered truthfully. there was no point in lying. it was written all over your face. “you’re just so…intimidating.” 

“am I?” tom drawled as he slid in beside you, scooting in closer until his thigh was pressed against yours. even through his neatly pressed trousers, you could still feel the heat of his skin on yours. “maybe we just need to get to know each other better.” 

you bit your lip. “i’d like that, tom.” 

“good,” tom drawled. “let’s start with why you think you’d be a bother to me. mattheo told me you were hesitant to come over earlier.” 

you flushed as you stared at your shoes, the curtain of your hair shielding you from tom’s intense gaze. “I know you like your peace and quiet, which mattheo and I probably constantly interrupt. i’m sorry if we’re ever being annoying.” 

“you don’t have to worry about that. you could never bother me,” tom stated in a silky, flirty voice. “the only thing I find annoying is that you’re always with my brother. I just can’t seem to get you alone, can I?” 

you shivered as tom’s gaze flickered down to your lips. “well, we’re alone now.” 

“indeed we are.” you held your breath as tom leaned in closer, the bed dipping under his weight. “you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this. just you and me, without my brother to interrupt. I think about it all the time.” 

tom watched your pupils dilate, reacting to his admission. “what do you think about?” 

“I think about all the things I’d do to you. I think about the way you’d feel, the way you’d sound. if you’d scream or moan or whimper for me.” you shuddered at the sinful confession, rubbing your thighs together as heat rushed to your core. tom’s green gaze felt like a brand against your skin as a predatory look flashed through his handsome face. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.” 

before you could react, tom’s mouth was on yours. the kiss was neither soft nor gentle, but instead hungry and possessive. the magnitude of his desire took you by surprise. you had always thought that tom viewed you as nothing more than mattheo’s pesky friend, the one that came over unannounced and wreaked havoc in his life, but apparently you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

tom kissed you like a man starved. he poured all of himself into the action, tangling his fingers through your hair, yanking your head backwards so he could kiss you deeper. you could barely keep up with the way he was devouring you, his tongue dominating yours while you moaned softly into his mouth. 

a gasp escaped your lips as tom picked you up and placed you on his lap. you were dizzy with desire as you straddled him, whimpering when tom bucked his hips against yours which caused his erection to rub against your soaked core. never in a million years would you have imagined tom to be this dirty and filthy as he grabbed and groped and gorged himself on you. 

your breathy moans filled the room as tom slid his right hand underneath your dress and squeezed your thigh before palming you through your panties. you melted into his touch, moaning his name softly while he growled in response. as he slid the lace aside, tom kissed your neck and teased your slit with his fingers. 

“you’re soaked, doll.” tom said with a dark chuckle. “do I make you wet, hm?” 

“yes,” you breathed, eyes rolling back as tom spread your slick ever so slowly. 

he seemed to take this as encouragement, taking his time teasing you, rubbing your clit and spreading your folds until you were reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess. 

“tom, please…”

“so needy,” tom murmured. “what is it that you want, love?” 

“I want…” you bit your lip as tom stroked your pussy. “I want your fingers. I want them inside of me. please, tom.” 

“aw, doll, you sound so pretty when you beg,” tom cooed. “don’t worry, I couldn't resist you even if I tried.” 

without warning, tom plunged his fingers into your pussy. you groaned at the stretch, face heating from how vulgar the scene unfolding before you truly was. tom watched with rapt attention as you squirmed and panted, drinking in every little moan and whimper like a fine wine. his fingers felt like magic as they curled and scissored and flicked inside your walls. the other hand that wasn’t playing with your pussy rested on your hip, gripping tightly as you grinded against tom. 

“that’s it, doll. ride my fingers just like that.” 

tom was mesmerized at the sight of you using him to get yourself off. mattheo’s sweet and innocent best friend was no longer sweet and innocent as tom fingered and ruined you like the perfect little slut that you were. his perfect little slut.

“are you going to be a good girl and cum for me?” 

tears streamed down your cheeks as you rode tom’s fingers like your life depended on it. your mascara and lipstick were both smeared, but you didn’t care as you chased after your orgasm. you gave tom a weak nod, half out of your mind with pleasure. 

tom gripped your chin and forced you to look at him. “answer me, doll.” 

“y — yes. i’m going to…oh god, tom!” you writhed as tom rubbed your clit with the heel of his palm, pushing you over the edge. 

the glimmer in your eyes right before you came unleashed something within tom. the flushed cheeks and fluttering lashes; the parted lips and strained scream, it was enough to drive him insane. he wanted to see you make that face over and over again. 

“you look so pretty when you cum, doll.” tom murmured as he bit down on your neck, staking his claim on your skin. “you’re fucking exquisite.” 

amusement danced in his gaze as you shied away from the attention, cheeks flushed from the praise. tom locked eyes with you before sticking his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean in the most obscene and erotic way you had ever witnessed. 

“don’t get all shy now, love. it’s your cum i’m licking off my fingers and i’ll be damned if you ever feel nervous around me again.” 

you chuckled in disbelief. the tom riddle in your head was supposed to be prim and proper, but the real tom was salacious and vulgar; a version of him that was better than what you could have ever imagined. still, despite the heated exchange, tom was surprisingly tender as he helped clean you up. you blushed furiously as he pulled your dress down and kissed your cheek. 

the timing couldn’t have been more perfect because soon after you were situated, the two of you heard footsteps in the hall. you barely had time to compose yourself before mattheo came barging into the room. 

“tom, have you seen my phone?” mattheo paused in surprise when he found you staring back at him. “oh, hi y/n. what are you doing here?” 

“you asked me to come over and hang out, remember?” 

“did I?” mattheo wondered aloud. “I was pretty baked earlier. guess I must have texted you then. well, i’m free now if you want to watch a movie.” 

tom smirked as you shot a bewildered glance at him. “oh, yeah sure.” 

“by the way, what are you doing in tom’s room? is he boring you to death about his coin collection again?” 

you blushed furiously. “no, uh, we were just…tom and I were…” 

“we were discussing the finer points of human anatomy,” tom lied smoothly. his smirk was still perfectly in place as he glanced over at you. “it was a rather…stimulating conversation. was it not, doll?” 

the tips of your ears were bright red as you nodded in place of a response, because you couldn’t trust yourself to speak at the moment.

mattheo rolled his eyes. “well, if you’re done being a weirdo, y/n and I will be in the basement.” 

you fiddled with the hem of your dress, not quite able to meet tom’s eyes. “um, well, I guess I’ll see you later?” 

tom winked behind his brother’s back. “you know where to find me, doll.” 

[midnightsnyx]

come back home - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x reader warnings: angst with a hint of fluff word count: 879 requested: yes / no author note: i have like a million other projects i need to write but i just need to get my sad feelings out so yeah, sorry lol masterlist requests are open

It’s quiet when you step in to the apartment you and Jack shared which wasn’t unusual in the past few months. Quiet was how the two of you lived lately. Tip toeing around each other as if you were walking on egg shells.

Part of you was tired of it and asked yourself if it was really worth it. But the other part of you wasn’t sure if you knew how to live without him anymore and that thought alone scared you. It made you realize how much you had grown to depend on him.

You hear his voice before you see him.

“You’re home.”

His voice is hoarse and you know that he just woke up from a nap. His ruffled appearance confirms it when he meets you in the living room.

“Yeah,” you whisper, staring at the floorboards. You hadn’t been home for days - not since the fight the two of you had. Your best friend let you crash at her house after you told him you needed space which explains his next question.

“Why?”

Truthfully, you aren’t sure what made you decide to come home. Your friend had told you that you were welcome to stay as long as you needed and had even put her two cents in on the whole situation.

Her words stuck with you since you broke down and told her everything that had been going on.

“He may love you. He probably does… or at least he maybe thinks he does. But that’s not what matters, sweetie. What matters is what he is doing to show you that he does and right now… he isn’t doing anything.” She squeezed your hand and smiled gently. “You deserve someone who goes out of their way to show you how much they care about you.”

The worst part was that she was right. When was the last time he had went out of his way to do something for you? It made you think back to the beginning of your relationship when he treated you like you were the most important thing in his life. But you suppose that all new relationships begin like that.

You realize that he’s still staring at you intently and you try to come up with some reason you came back rather than the truth, which was that you were too dependant on him and you felt like you needed him as much as you needed air to breathe.

“Can you at least tell me one thing?” he asks after you’ve been silent for so long and all you can do is nod.

“Why did you leave?”

You don’t have to think about the answer to this question because it was something that had been haunting you for quite some time.

“I guess I started to feel like I needed you more than you needed me,” you tell him quietly, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly.

“Look at me,” he says and you let your eyes meet his. “I love you.”

You want to believe him but your friends words keep coming back to haunt you. Did he love you or was he drunk on the idea of it? Something your mom told you a long time ago was that there is a distinct difference between loving someone and being in love with them. It’s easy to lie to yourself about loving someone but you can’t lie to yourself about being in love with them.

“How are you so sure?” you ask him.

“How could I not?” he says and you’re about to tell him that his answer isn’t good enough but he doesn’t stop there. “Baby, you’re the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of when I’m falling asleep at night.” He slowly walks over to you and reaches out with one hand, letting his thumb run across your cheek. “I think about your smile and your laugh and about how you are the only person I want to come home to.” You watch as he looks away from you and stares at a picture of the two of you. It’s from a trip the two of you took last summer during break. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit. You’re scared that if you let things go back to how they were before, you’ll end up back here in this exact situation. “I’m afraid that this will become a cycle and I can’t do it, Jack. I physically can’t handle that.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just looks at you as if you’re the only thing in the world, his world, that matters. It makes you weak in the knees and this is the Jack you fell in love with. 

“Just come home,” he whispers. “We can figure everything out. Together.”

It’s a risk, deciding to give everything another shot. To put your heart on the line. But you remember something else your mom told you once.

“The right people are worth staying for”, she had told you.

You take a deep breath and nod, hoping that you’re making the right decision.

“All right,” you tell him and he grins, kissing you for the first time in months and it feels like coming home.

[iamyouknow-yours]

My first therapist participated in medical gaslighting - ie insinuating I was not autistic and that I was "just anxious" and not in fact chronically ill. Turns out I'm both. This fucked me up for years (still fucks me up tbh) and it delayed my diagnoses that could have radically changed my life. It also encouraged my mom and family to participate in said medical gaslighting and force me to go to school (which was actively harmful and traumatising for me and my sense of self worth).

I really like my current therapist. A lot. She is incredibly helpful. She's knowledgeable about autism and chronic illness and disability. She also actually listens to me and takes my feedback and just really gets me.

But goddamn if my choices were no therapy or my first therapist? No therapy all the fucking way baby!

My second therapist was also pretty shit and actively made my relationship with my mom worse.

So yeah jeez, therapists are still human beings who can be extremely biased and complex. And they are in a position of power over you where you make yourself vulnerable. So you really gotta make sure you trust them and that they have your best interests at heart and that they're not abusing their power (even unknowingly, like I don't think my first therapists were thinking mwahaha let me fuck up this patient, they just had extreme biases and blind spots and were ignorant about a lot of things).

Also!! There are different types of therapy. CBT is one of the most common types of therapy and it is really effective for a lot of people. But for others (especially neurodivergent people), it can be harmful. There are lots of types of therapy and not all of them work for everyone.

An incomplete list of things in no particular order that help me alongside therapy and alongside each other, all of them have pros and cons and fall short in some areas (also I'm still chronically disabled, none of it cured me, sorry)

Psych meds (there are so many types out there, I'm on 3)

Online chronic illness group chat support group

A good support system (excellent, weird friends - it's really important to be friends with weirdos, it's good for you, I'm a weirdo too) (also my mom <3)

Accommodations (mobility aids, stuff at uni like extra time, all that jazz)

An OT who specialises in chronic illness and neurodivergency

A dietitian who specialises in neurodivergency and has learned about my chronic illnesses for me

Having hobbies - create stuff, it's good for you. It's okay if you don't keep the same hobby after a few months. Just keep doing stuff.

Exercise (yeah I know but unfortunately doing some stretching and going for a walk with my dog does actually help my mental and physical health, does not cure me though shut up Barbara)

Meds n shit for physical stuff

Animals - having pets, I recommend, it's like touching grass but woah they're in your bed

Drinking enough water and eating regularly (again I know, it's not gonna fix you but dear lord I feel like shit when I don't do these things, and yes sometimes it's really fucking hard)

Journalling

A truly fantastic GP/managing doctor (I cannot state how much I adore her, she's so lovely and believes me and listens to me and just excellent)

Learning how to rest properly - did you know there are different types of energy and different types of rest? Obvious right but I was only resting my body and now I'm learning to rest my brain and get emotional rest and social rejuvenation and be in nature and have a sense of community - these are all important!!

Reminders (so many reminders) and google calendar (I know google sucks, give me a good alternative and I'll use it) and Shovel (I got it when it was cheaper, it's a planning app for adhd people that I can't live without for uni)

Media I enjoy - fics, youtubers, shows, movies

Leaving the house for fun reasons as much as I can (uni, errands, and appointments don't count, walking the dog half counts, but I need to leave and go to an event or cafe or go to a friend's house) (this ends up being not as often as I'd like but it's important to me)

Getting enough sleep (one of my psych meds has the truly fantastic side effect of making me sleep well practically every night. I can't state enough how much this is fantastic. Did not cure me though, don't worry, your aunt wasn't correct)

I have gotten quite a few asks which can be summarized as "my therapist doesn't believe me and keeps blaming me for my problems, but I know I have to stick with therapy if I want to get better-", and I need everyone to realize that therapy isn't inherently good and effective, nor is it always necessary for getting better. Having a bad therapist can actually be more harmful to your recovery than not having one! If your therapist makes you worse or doesn't help you, it's okay to walk away, whether to find a new one or to find healing in something else. You are in fact not morally obligated to see a therapist just because you're mentally ill.

[theseareafewofmyfavoritethingzz]

The Golden Raven thoughts:

Jean Moreau it seems I've grown quite fond of you...

I forgot how much I like Nora writing Neil he's become so woobified in the fandom especially in relation to andreil and it was so refreshing to see him and Andrew written as their own characters obviously it's shown they care for each other but their relationship isn't conventional and she doesn't put it in that box

Jeremy I think you need to kill your parents

Cat and Jean are my favorite thing ever they're besties your honor!! Forehead kisses! Motorcycles!! "Point to the raven in the room"!!!

Jeremy Knox I love you my boy but you need to find some self-worth

Jean knocking the snot out of Bryson was so satisfying Laila was right it was swoon-worthy

But also - Jean ready to fight to protect his friends and Lucas but won't even speak in his own defense

Thinking about the difference between deserve and want for Jean and how he's still kind of stuck in his ways about him not deserving anything more, because he believes as property he doesn't have that right, but that he wants good things anyway and allowing himself to recognize that want is a big step forward! "I am a Moreau, this is what I deserve" to "fuck what I deserve, what about what I want?"

Andrew clocked Jeremy's tea that's so fucking funny

Unfunny note, Riko Moriyama rise from the dead and then **** ********!!! I can't believe the reason for Kevin's whole "it'll be easier if he remains heterosexual" is because Riko quite literally tried to BLEED the queer out of Jean after he realized he had feelings for Kevin WHO THOUGHT IT WAS ABOUT JEREMY!!!

This is heartbreaking but also

Imagining Kevin being like "Riko he's not GAY everyone stares at Jeremy Knox like that" oh bud

Cody is perfect hope you get your polycule figured out monarch

Anyway there's more thoughts™️ but this is already too long more later if I don't get swept up with 9-1-1!

[livingasaghost]

hello i love your takes so i wanted to ask for your thoughts on jerejean’s development in tgr?

-@you-know-i-get-itt

oh my god this made my whole week im obsessed with you

i think there’s a few ways to answer this - mostly because the jerejean of it all depends on the two halves of the whole. obviously.

(i am soooo sorry this is literally an essay)

spoilers below!

at first glance, jean is the one who needs the most healing, so for most of book one you are so focused on his trauma and his grief and his healing that you almost (i said almost, bear with me) overlook jeremy’s mysterious past. so stepping into book two we had a good idea of what jean’s been through and where he needs to go to make changes and start the actual healing process. yes he has friends now, yes he has a team and coaches to support him, yes his abusers are dropping like flies, but healing is a CHOICE for jean and he spends most of book two battling that internal struggle of whether or not he deserves to make that choice. i’m so invested in jean’s character because it isn’t easy for him to accept his worth, and every victory is an uphill battle for him. whether he realizes it or not, he is fighting for his life, and it takes him most of book two to finally come to terms with that. and HE DOES!!! his arc isn’t over yet by the end of book two, but he’s made so much progress that he can admit he didn’t deserve the abuse, he can admit that he LOVES people and wants to protect them and wants to keep loving them, and he can admit that he needs help to step into his healing. he starts taking therapy seriously. he allows other people to care for him. he’s taking steps now that will make book three infinitely easier on him because he’s finally made that choice to heal. all he has to do now is accept the love and joy and peace that’s coming to him.

and if jean were the (only) main character, that would be it. book three would be a happy silly time where he learns how to garden and falls in love and rebuilds his home with cat and laila and wins finals and fixes his relationship with kevin. hooray! but that is not what nora set out to do. it’s a classic bait and switch. mr captain of the sunshine court himself is the one who can’t heal. mr im so happy and kind and positive all the time is the one who is still actively being abused.

the reason book two is so compelling is that we see the narrative switch happen. jean starts the book fresh off grayson’s abuse and jeremy starts the book ready to help him through that. but then we watch jean get closer and closer to accepting what he really deserves (what he wants) and all that time, jeremy is being driven deeper and deeper into abuse. his mother keeps imposing boundaries on him. we learn more details about jeremy’s freshman year, about his past sexual exploits, about his PRESENT sexual exploits with people who do not respect or care about him. we watch jeremy’s family beat him into the ground while jean is lifted up by kevin and andrew and rhemann and the trojans and jeremy himself. but jeremy refuses to let anybody save him. he doesn’t think he needs it, doesn’t think he deserves it, doesn’t think it’s even possible to be saved. by the time the fire hits the house, jean has decided he doesn’t care what he loses as long as his people are safe…but jeremy is NOT safe and his mother and step-father are doing everything to keep him away from the people who WOULD save him. and all the while, jeremy and jean are so caught up in trauma and grief and abuse that they refuse to even acknowledge the elephant in the room.

that jean knows jeremy’s favorite color, that he’s always aware of his brown eyes on him, that he would beat bryson and ivan and anybody else to a bloody pulp if it meant that jeremy was safe. that jeremy is possessive of jean when he looks at other people, that jeremy is actively seeking out a marseilles french tutor simply because it would help him communicate with jean, that jean is exactly his type.

we knew there was mutual attraction in book one, and it really ramps up in book two, but these two traumatized people are still nowhere near acknowledging that attraction. and in book two it’s grown into more than attraction. it’s a mutual understanding, a witnessing, a protectiveness that transcends friendship or sex - these two people are mirrors that refuse to look at each other lest they see themselves reflected back at them. jeremy cannot look at jean too long or he’ll start to realize that he doesn’t deserve his family’s abuse. jean cannot look at jeremy too long or he’ll start to realize that even after all his sexual abuse he’s allowed to act on attraction, he’s allowed to love someone romantically. and the two of them are caught in a deadlock until one of them breaks.

and at this point…i think jean is going to act before jeremy, if only because he has to. jeremy himself states in tgr that regardless of how attracted he is to jean, he is conscious of jean’s specific trauma, that jeremy can’t ask that of him no matter how much both of them want it. but more than that, jean is miles ahead of jeremy in his healing. he’s made the choice, he’s acknowledged he deserves better, he’s working towards overcoming all the abuse that was done to him, and who was there for all of that healing? jeremy. who is his safe space? jeremy. who is his partner? jeremy. but jeremy still can’t look his shame in the face. he can’t deal with his grief and his mistakes, but more than that, there’s still a part of him that thinks he deserves the abuse in payment for all the things his actions caused. as IF this whole thing didn’t start with bryson! as IF it’s his fault his family is PREJUDICED and SELFISH! as IF he wouldn’t still deserve to be loved, regardless of what he did.

i know some people are nervous that jerejean isn’t romantic/sexual endgame because nora has a complex history with them as a ship and as characters, but this book has cemented their partnership in my mind. i do think if/when they start making moves in book three it will look unconventional - because all the ships and characters in AFTG are unconventional - but there is a queerness there that cannot be denied. not when there’s so much attraction, so much yearning, so much care between the two of them. like i’m sorry, but you cannot end a book with THE RULES HAVE CHANGED (ignore jean’s inner monologue, that bitch is still healing) and not expect me to believe that they’re destined to be together.

bonus for those who want it: here’s a playlist of taylor songs that are also jerejean

[dufferpuffer]

My reading of this part of him, and my reading of why his Patronus is a wolf, Is that these were his happiest times because he could let go.

Him being sick puts a strain on everyone. It stressed his parents out, everyone needs to make sure he will be locked up and restrained... He has to hide, day and night, any whisper of what he is. He thinks his illness is disgusting... because people are openly disgusted with him. He has to hate it as much as they do to prove he is on their side for any scrap of empathy. Even when his symptoms don't touch him most of the month, his life is still a full-time job of guilt, self loathing and posturing.

Then, on his worst of nights, at his lowest point: He gets people who don't think he is a strain. They look forward to it, plan all the fun they'll do when he would normally be self harming. He doesn't need to hide a thing around them. He can relax, let the wolf take over, and trust them to handle the weight. He doesn't need to hate himself for their empathy. He doesn't need to pretend to be a boy, or a wolf, that he isn't. He can just be. Let go of all the stress and shame and let his friends carry him.

His worst nights became symbolic of how glorious friends are. He still didn't like the lack of control, still looked down on himself, still dreaded the pain and the shame... but going out partying with his friends, feeling free and wanted no matter his health was worth it.

That's why I think his patronus is a wolf - because his happiest moments were when he felt like he was supported and loved no matter the skin he was in. Being a wolf felt good - in a pack.

At all times Remus is a thrill-seeker, or at least reckless when it comes to instant gratification. He doesn't really believe in happy endings so he is tempted to take joy where he can, like a drug. He is rarely honest. he is a well practiced liar. Even his truths are dipped in sweet chocolate to make them go down better.

The avoidance of those parts of him... ruins him for me. Fic recs of bittersweet/happy wolf adventures and interesting Remus are always cool B^)

OK, fandom, here’s a thing about Remus Lupin we don’t hear nearly enough about: sometimes, being a werewolf wasn’t an unrelenting cycle of angst.  Sure there was a lot of suckage, but sometimes there was fun.

‘And they didn’t desert me at all.  Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life.  They became Animagi.’

(Chapter 19, The Servant of Lord Voldemort, PoA.)

Where are you all hiding the fic and arts when teenage Remus gets to actually enjoy some full moon high-jinks?  There’s more misery and moping around the hospital wing than you can shake a stick at and, I get that, I really do, we all love a bit of h/c, we hurt the ones we love the most and all that malarkey.  But surely there’s room for more?  The roaming the school grounds, running about the Forest, wild animal adventures?  Most times there’s not much willingness to even admit that Remus ever had any fun, instead just a grudging acceptance that his Animagi friends made full moon a bit less bad, maybe even tolerable.  but Remus very clearly says otherwise.  To repeat:

‘The best times of my life.’

Look, it’s not like Remus didn’t have enough misery, can we not let the poor bastard enjoy the one bit of fun canon gives him?  Oh, and while we’re on the subject, he goes on:

‘And there were near misses, many of them.  We laughed about them afterwards.’

Think about that for a minute.  Remus came close to attacking people during the full moon on multiple occasions, but far from being consumed with self-loathing and regret, managed to laugh about it afterwards.  I mean, he had a bit of a conscience about it, but:

‘I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month’s adventure.’

Sure, he knew what he was doing was dangerous, and sometimes he felt a bit bad about it.  But it didn’t stop him doing it, didn’t stop him laughing off the dangers, didn’t stop him regarding the full moon as an “adventure.” 

There will always be fans of long-suffering Remus and, hey, knock yourselves out if that’s fun for you.  But, oh, what I wouldn’t give for a little more of canon Remus who is no sort of soft doughy cinnamon roll but is a bit of a thrill-seeker, not entirely honest, and definitely capable of having fun.  

Don’t @ me unless you’ve got recs or are up for planning next month’s adventure.

[berryispunk]

Your Home's Only a Town You're a Guest In

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

quick note: this fic contains heavy topics such as grief and parental death so be warned before reading but I swear she's worth it 🤍

tags: parental death, stages of grief, brief mention af addiction, lost lovers, falling in love again, small town, rekindling romance, soft! Frankie, girl dad! Frankie, swearing, ANGST, bad jokes, nicknames, yearning, mutual pining, kissing, friends to lovers, slow burn, SMUT (🌶️🌶️🌶️), did i mention angst?, all the emotions, reader has longer wavy hair and a fuller figure but no further physical description

summary: You never planned to return to your hometown but things change when you've got life-changing news and soon you find yourself trying to navigate the past colliding with the present.

word count: 10,6 k (don't ask me any questions 😅 idk what happened)

When you had left your hometown almost ten years ago you had never planned to come back. 

But when one day your mom called and told you that your father was in hospice care, you thought it was the worst day of your life. It felt like a cruel joke. Out of all the reasons you would find yourself returning, it had to be because your dad was literally dying? 

All the unspoken words and feelings between you and your father were crashing down on you, taking you the air to breathe immediately. Your mother had made it clear that nobody could say for sure how much time your father had left and it would be best if you came down quickly. 

Whenever you told your friends in the big city about the town you grew up in, the beach and the waves’ constant presence during your adolescence, they would be jealous. You couldn’t blame them. How could they know all the downsides of growing up in an uptight town like Tidehaven? 

The neighbors’ judging glances on the daily and them knowing stuff about you before you even knew them yourself? 

Or how uneasy you felt the older you got? 

How you never belonged, your spirit too wild and free for the norms of this small place. 

You wanted to spread your wings but staying in this Godforsaken coast town would’ve cut them right off. 

So you left one day and never looked back, no matter how many times your mom called crying and pleaded for you to come back. 

You dreamed about the ocean often, because you missed the salty and harsh breeze. 

You missed the calmness of sitting at the beach, listening to the waves crushing at the shore and the vast nothingness when you overlooked the horizon. 

In contrast to that, the city was always buzzing. It never slept and that was one of the hardest parts you had to deal with when you first moved there. It was a whole different life and when you felt too big for your hometown, you felt entirely too small in the city. Almost like a nobody, like an anonymous person under all these many different people. 

You missed the feeling of belonging, being part of a friend group. Because that was another thing you had left behind: your friends. 

You stayed in contact for a while - hooray to tech - but it wasn’t the same. 

Eventually you found new friends at college but they couldn’t understand your struggles like the friends back in Tidehaven did. They would never be able to share your pain.

You laid awake for days on end, dreading the journey to your coastal hometown. But you couldn’t run and you couldn't hide - not from this one. As much as you really didn’t want to, the responsible part in you won and you sat on the next plane to the closest airport of the little town. 

On this late summer day, when the breeze was still somehow warm but the air already had notes of autumn in it, you returned “home”. 

Well, it used to be home but now it felt like something that wore its costume but instead felt foreign and cold. 

When you walked through your childhood home's front door, the screaking sound still the same, your mother looked around the corner and her face looked so much older even from a distance. Her hair was much greyer than you remembered. 

The worry written all over her features had made her age like a forgotten piece of furniture tarnished by the tides. You felt tears pricking in the corners of your eyes as you let your luggage fall to the ground and walked over to her and hugged her close. 

She almost crushed you with her arms and murmured, “My girl is home…” You had to bite your lip real hard not to sob. “Hey mama,” you whispered and she kissed your wavy hair repeatedly. This, you thought, felt like coming home. 

You settled down in your childhood bedroom you had outgrown long ago, everything still looked like you remembered: the posters of your teen crushes, the pink floral throw blanket, all the books scattered around the small room. It felt like stepping into a time machine of your youth. Everything was neatly preserved and it tightened the knot in your chest even further. 

You decided to visit the only place in this hellhole you were certain that had some alcohol you so desperately needed, the local bar. 

So you threw on a fleece jacket before you walked through the empty streets of Tidehaven. The night air was almost too crisp for the shorts you were wearing but you didn’t have time to worry about it. 

As soon as you reached the bar you slumped onto a stool at the bar and ordered some beverage strong enough to help you numb the gnawing pain of responsibility and regret. Halfway through your glass you suddenly heard it: a deep, familiar voice ringing in your ear. It was faint, almost not noticeable if you hadn’t listened close enough. But you listened very closely. The voice was deeper but still unmistakingly recognizable. So you whirled around on your bar stool and spotted him in a booth in the back of the bar, together with the same shared group of friends he had always been with. You froze in your seat and contemplated simply leaving, but you couldn't. 

Could it really be him? 

You tried to watch him as unobtrusively as you could but of course he noticed you staring  and as your eyes locked it felt like time stood still, your chest immediately constricting, almost suffocating as you turned around and prayed that he hadn’t seen you. But of course you weren’t so lucky. When were you ever lucky? You emptied your drink quickly before you gestured to the barkeeper to give you a refill. 

“Do you mind?” The voice from earlier, now dangerously close, asked you. 

You shook your head, but you didn’t dare to look up. You knew it was him without looking. 

“I’d say it feels like seeing a ghost, but I guess seeing ghosts should be scary. This isn’t scary, this is–” 

“Sick? Twisted?” You interrupted him and you felt his confused eyes on you without ever having to look up. He laughed softly, the sound deep and rich as he ordered a drink for himself before sitting down on the stool next to yours. 

“That wasn’t what I would’ve gone for but okay,” he said and you finally decided to look at him and immediately wished you hadn’t. It was him, no doubt. The same dark brown tousled locks poking out from under the old, worn-down baseball cap. The same warm brown eyes, slightly glimmering in the dim light of the bar. A slight stubble on his chin and cheeks that looked like it might need a trim soon. The same almost pouty lips, slightly dry looking and you wondered if this man knew chapsticks existed? His shoulders were so broad, his biceps so muscular when they flexed slightly under the jeans button-down he was wearing. You couldn't help but stare at him when he crossed his arms in front of his chest. This wasn’t the Frankie you’d last seen the night before you left. It was a new version, Frankie 2.0. The adult version. 

He didn’t even flinch when you checked him out, your eyes dancing over every one of his unique features, trying to make sense of it. Putting together the puzzle pieces of the old Frankie and this rendition in front of you. He looked nothing like the tall, slender guy you had a huge crush on when you were a teenager but still it was him. 

The warm expression on his face, an identical lopsided smile you remembered. But there was more to it. It was the way he handled himself - much more confident, taking in his rightful space. And the way his frame was built made him almost intimidating, if you hadn’t known better. 

Well, you used to know him but how could you know if he wasn’t able to break you in half with these arms of his? Ten years had done a lot to his frame and you had a really hard time searching for words when you finally turned back around to sip at your drink. 

“You know steroids are dangerous, right?” you scoffed and he gave you a deep, rumbling laugh. 

“I guess you refer to my arms with that? I wanna let you know that it’s all just training and nothing illegal, I promise” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his remark. 

“What did you train for? A bodybuilder contest?” you quirked an eyebrow and he shook his head, a grin still on his face. “Army,” he answered and you searched for his eyes. 

“You’re in the army?”

“I was. I left last year. Wasn't useful anymore after this grenade exploded near me and the debris hit my leg during battle.“

“I am sorry.”

“No need,” he shrugged you off with a wave of his hand. “But you know, being in it for years and getting spit out like you didn’t literally sacrifice your life for the country isn’t a good feeling,” he said as he sipped his drink. 

“Sounds awful…”

“It is.” 

There’s a beat of silence before he asked, “What are you even doing here? You made it very clear that you’d never return.” 

Was his tone accusatory or hurt? You couldn’t really tell. 

You scoffed scornfully. 

“Believe me, wasn’t my first choice,” you rolled your eyes before you sipped at your drink again. 

He didn’t answer, instead he took a sip from his own drink, the ice in it clinking against the glass. 

“My dad, he–” You couldn’t finish the sentence, too painful, too uncertain. 

“I heard about your dad,” he said cautiously, his words measured. 

“Of course you did,” you said bitterly. “This is Tidehaven, gossip spreads faster than a damn wildfire.” 

“I am sorry, hermosa.” 

The nickname made you nauseous immediately and you glared at him, your gaze probably full of venom. He had the audacity to sound sincere.

“Save your words for someone who cares,” you spit out, slamming money on the bar and standing up so abruptly the stool scratched loudly on the floor. His eyes were on you in an instant, eyebrows furrowed deep. 

You headed towards the exit with fast steps, wanting to create some distance between him and all the feelings you had kept buried for so long. Out of all people it had to be him.

You didn’t have time for this, you couldn’t afford to be distracted. 

When you reached the doorway of the bar his hand grabbed your arm, determined but not painful as he said, “Please, stay. I just… I just want to talk. I am sorry if I said something wrong. We just met again, please.” 

His eyes were nothing less than pleading and you frowned heavily. 

Under any other circumstance you would have loved to stay and talk, catch up on what you’ve missed over the years but right now the weight of everything threatened to crush you any minute and you were too tired for all that. 

“I can’t Frankie, I am sorry,” you said and you meant it even when you freed your arm from his grip and walked down the steps to the road. The gravel crunching under your shoes, echoing through the eerie silence of the night as you walked as fast as your feet and equilibrium could handle. 

You didn’t know if he’d kept standing in the doorway and watched you walking away or not, but something told you he had. Even if everything in you screamed to turn around you didn’t, because you knew that he’d be the one person able to tear down your walls that you had so arduously built around you. 

As you laid in bed later that night with your window open the sound of the waves lulled you into a restless sleep and you found yourself in a common dream landscape. The beach. 

But this time it was different. Somebody sat on the sand, the person’s back turned but you immediately knew it was Frankie, only he wore a cap at the beach. But as you approached him his figure dissolved, turning into smoke and when you finally stood where he had sat he’s gone fully and you sank to your knees, burying your head in your hands and starting crying. 

When you wake up the next morning your pillow is full of tears and you felt like you got hit by a truck. A silent bing from your nightstand catched your attention when you lift your phone to see the notification and you immediately sat up in your small bed. 

“Hey, this is Frankie. Sorry, got your number from your mom. 😅 Let’s meet at our place at the beach at 3 pm.” 

__

Frankie was a pilot. He served in the army. He faced life threatening situations, learned to stay calm under any condition. But today, when he sat at the pier, his feet dangled in the water, his heart was racing like he just ran a damn marathon. He checked his digital watch. It was two minutes before 3 and he started patting his jeans clad thigh nervously. What if she didn’t show up? What if he made a total idiot of himself ? When he saw you yesterday in the bar it was like he got hit by lightning. It made his chest painfully tight, almost as bad as his panic attacks did  when he had flashbacks from his army days. Maybe even worse. He overlooked the ocean, the waves crushing and creating a calming enough atmosphere he allowed himself to close his eyes for a second. The images of you as a younger girl and the women he saw yesterday were burned into his subconscious and he wasn’t really sure how this could be the same person he was in love with as a teen? Your eyes were still sad but also curious. Your hair still a wavy long mane past your shoulders and you still had this ever existing slight frown on your face like you were carrying the weight of the world on your face. 

But to be fair, you probably had the same thoughts about him, at least given the way you looked at him last night. Almost pure disbelief, maybe even mild shock. When he was deeply lost in thought he sensed a weight next to him on the pier and his eyes opened immediately to watch you taking a seat, slumping onto the hard wood with a loud sigh.

He didn’t dare to say anything, afraid you may leave as soon as he opened his mouth. 

Your gaze was fixed on the horizon as well before you started speaking “Wasn’t sure if I really came until the last minute.” 

“I am glad you did” he replied, his own gaze still on the horizon before he added “How are–”

“Are you seriously asking me how I’m doing, Frankie?” your tone was biting.

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as he mumbles “Guess so.”

You shook your head and scoffed. “I am doing absolutely great. I am back in this hellhole, my dad is dying but I don’t know when so I’m stuck at the one place on earth I don’t wanna be at,” you rumbled. 

Frankie could feel your frustration and hurt seeping out of every word. But mostly he could feel the sadness. You had a way of covering your real feelings under a heavy load of sarcasm, you always did. Some things never change, he thought. Even if the woman sitting next to him looked and handled herself so different from the girl he used to know, under all the layers of pain and heartbreak it was still you. 

“I am sorry, hermosa. I really am,” he said sincerely and for a fragment your facade crumbled, the worry and all the other negative emotions flickering over your face. 

“Can I do something?” he asks tentatively. You shook your head again.

You straightened a bit in your seat, putting your hands under your thighs, your feet still dangling down as you look onto the water before you ask “How have you been ? Did you never leave Tidehaven, or…?”

He took a deep breath. “I did leave for basic training in the military. Was gone for most of the time, overseas missions, fought a lot of wars in and out of my job. But hey, at least I can fly an aircraft.”

“Wait…” you chimed in. “You are a pilot?” 

“Yes ma’am. I can fly any aircraft, but I prefer helicopters if I have the choice.” “Wow”, you exhaled and his mouth lifted up to a faint,proud smile. 

“Well, technically I was able to fly an aircraft. Lost my license a while back.”

“Oh, why’s that?” you didn’t shy away from asking the real questions, you never did. 

“Drugs.”

“Drugs? Consuming or smuggling ?”

“Consuming, coke to be exact. Yeah, definitely not my brightest moment. I have been clean for over two years now though.” 

“That’s… great” you say thinly and he couldn’t quite interpret your answer. Were you just surprised or was it judgement ?

“Do you… have a family? A wife?” you asked so quietly he almost thought he didn’t hear it correctly.

Another sore point. 

“I have a daughter, Sofía. She's two years old now and lives with her mom. We’re divorced for almost as long as she’s old. I married her mom Ella because I thought I needed to, my parents doing the rest, you know how old-fashioned they are.We have shared custody and I see her as often as I can.” 

You chuckled. Of course you remembered about his parents. You weren’t allowed to stay overnight at his house when the two of you were younger, but that didn’t stop you from sneaking around anyway and finding other places to make out at.

“I thought I’m doing the right thing, you know. Being responsible. Truth was, even if Sofía is my everything, she wasn’t exactly planned and her mom and I were already thinking about breaking up before she found out that she was expecting. So, I felt the need to stay and I really tried to be the man Ella needed me to be but I failed miserably. Being coked out all the time doing the rest. The short temper and not to mention the financial aspect of the addiction. All my money I earned went straight to drugs or stuff we needed for our child. So I quit the drugs cold turkey, being clean as soon as Sofía was born and by God, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But as soon as I held this little girl in my arms everything kind of fell into place. I know it probably sounds super cheesy, but it’s the truth. This little girl was my new anchor, my reason to keep clean and to show up. And it worked out for a few months. But her mom and I didn’t. We kept fighting over the smallest things and I was so close to relapsing because of the emotional turmoil that we, in good terms, decided to call it quits. To be honest, I think we never were a good match anyway, but I’ll be forever thankful for the result of it: my daughter. Her mom is with this guy called Clint now and honestly, they really found each other. She even married him last year and is expecting her second child. And I hope she’s happy, it seems that she is at least. She deserves the good life I wasn’t able to give her.” 

He took a deep breath. It’s been a long time since he talked this much and over his life in general. But you asked in a not pressuring way. You would’ve had the right to judge, to ask more questions he would answer truthfully even if it hurt, but you didn’t. He looked at you for a moment, studying you, contemplating if he may have bored you with his rambling or anything, but you just kept your gaze fixed on the vast expense of the ocean and the ghost of a smile before you turned to him. “So, Frankie Morales is a daddy?” you asked, almost a bit mocking and he grinned in response. 

“I am a daddy. Does that make me a hot dilf now?” he joked and promptly earned a shoulder bump and an eye roll from you. That was the sassy side of you he missed so much. 

“And you? Do you—?” 

“Hell no”, you laughed. “Kids aren’t for me. At least I never saw myself as a mom and to be fair I never had a partner long enough to even have to worry about the possibility of that.” 

He nodded, maybe frowning a little bit too.

“Where have you been the last ten years?” 

You wiggled a bit on your place before you answered “The city. I went there for college and stayed for the job I got after graduating. It’s so so different from here. All the lights, endless possibilities of wasting money and getting wasted yourself. The city is…” you drifted off a bit, your gaze suddenly so far away. 

“The city is anonymous, buzzing. She’s like an animal, alive and thriving as long as it’s getting fed, which in my case were with my hopes and dreams, I guess” you tried to joke, to make it sound casual but Frankie looked right through it. You were disappointed. 

“The city always was your dream. Your light was too bright and your spirit way too big for this sleepy town. What changed?” 

“I did,” you answered sharply and the words hung heavy in the air. It was eerie silent for a long moment, the only sound the ones from the waves crashing against the pier. 

“It’s not that I regret going away, really. But it turned out to be so different from what I expected it to be. I thought moving to the city would magically make me feel better but to be honest it only made it worse. I felt so lost and so alone. The friends I had, our friends, still here or scattered around the country. I thought fulfilling my dream in the city would make me feel complete, but it shattered me even more. Because I now call two places “home” and no place really feels like it.” 

Your words struck a chord deep inside of him. He knew the feeling of not belonging, especially after leaving the military. 

He stayed silent, waiting if you maybe opened up some more, but you didn’t.

“So, do you have someone in the city waiting for you when-if- you return ?”

“No”, you answered and somehow it filled Frankie with relief. 

“How about you?” you asked, studying him for a moment. Your eyes wandered over his whole body and it made him unusually nervous.

“No one,” he said quietly. 

“Good” you said and a small smile tugged at your lips before your gaze was back at the horizon before you added “Where do you live ? Your parents' house?” 

“Si, it’s only my dad now you know. My mom died last autumn.”

“Oh shit” you mumbled quietly and your brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, Frankie.” 

He sighed heavily, his shoulders slagging. The memory of his mom’s passing was still undoubtedly painful.

“I–” he paused, “I don’t know how much longer my dad is around. They were together their whole life, he’s so lost without her and I can’t fill the space up she left behind, no matter how hard I try.” 

 “That’s not your job. Your job is to be present and let him know he’s not alone. And I know you’re doing everything you can, he knows that too. It’ll never be the same again, sadly. Just cherish the time you have with him now, yeah?” 

There you were. Beneath all the stoicism, the tough exterior, the big sadness. You cared, you always did and you always made his problems feel less big. It was one of the things he always adored about you and something he deeply missed. 

“I may count on you now, you know. In the ‘I lost a parent’-department. Haven’t got any experience in that.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t recommend this experience. I’d rate this a 0 out of 5 stars but I am here for you. If you want me to, that is.”

You turned your face to him again, your lips pressed tightly together in a small line when you held his gaze for a long moment before you answered. “I’d love to have you around. After all you may be the best thing this place ever had, well, besides the beach of course.”

“Is that a compliment?” he raised an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

“Oooh, Morales. Don’t get cocky now, I just wanted to be nice you know. After everything you told me you may be as equally lost as I am.”

“Noted”, he gently nudged your shoulder. “You’re also the best thing this place has ever seen, just for the record and I–” he lowered his gaze, fixing a point onto the water beneath his feet. “I missed you.” 

Maybe he said too much, was too straight forward, overestimating the small bond that blossomed between the two of you. But if he learnt one thing after the loss of his mom it was that you never know when you’ll have the chance again to say something nice to the people you care about, so he did just that. 

Just when he thought about adding something to make the meaning of his words less heavy, he felt your head on his shoulder, slightly leaning against him as you murmured, your voice almost swallowed by the ocean. “I missed you too.” 

And Frankie’s heart skipped a beat at your little confession and you stayed like this until the sun set behind the horizon, tinting everything in orange hues and it was exactly what he needed without knowing before. 

__

Days blended into weeks with Frankie by your side. You spent every waking hour together. Eating with his dad, cooking together, going for walks at the beach. If you weren’t at his house, he was at yours, eating with your mom, making her laugh even if anything else felt so grey and heavy and the health of your dad was quickly deteriorating. The first time he came over for dinner he apologized for intruding, but your mom shrugged it off and said it was typical for you to bring anyone home like strays. Frankie shooted you a look at the word ‘stray’ and you smirked widely. It was this day his nickname ‘stray cat’ was born and it became a habit calling him that ever since.  

Frankie was the light in the darkness for you. He was your lighthouse guiding you in the rough sea that called itself your life and even if you swore you wouldn’t let anyone close enough to hurt you again, Frankie tore down your walls brick by brick without your alarm bells ringing. He was patient, he was understanding and he never demanded anything, he was happy with what you offered him as long as it meant he could be by your side. 

One evening when the two of you sat on the front porch of his house, the breeze was now way too cold for summer clothing, but you stupidly didn’t pack anything warmer in your hurry, you shivered in the harsh ocean air. Frankie stood up without saying a word and went inside and came back with a hoodie of his, offering it to you. “You’re freezing, hermosa” he said and you looked at him, so deeply touched by this gesture, the pure thoughtfulness of it making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You quickly threw the piece of clothing over your head and as soon as you had it on it felt like a warm hug. His smell was so present, wrapping you up in it like a cocoon it made your chest tight with affection. You cared for him so deeply, maybe even fell in love with him again, but you kept a respectful distance because he was the one good thing in your life you had right now and you couldn’t afford to lose him because of the disaster you usually were in relationships. 

“Thank you” you smiled softly at him and he nodded, the charming boyish grin on his face making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. 

“Can I ask you something?” you asked tentatively. 

“Sure.” 

You took a deep breath to collect some courage. 

“Why did you never reach out to me? After I left, I mean. Our friends did, they texted and sent me photos. But you…” 

Frankies face darkened, his brows furrowed deep.Something unreadable in his expression. “Honestly? I thought you didn’t want me to do that. You were so convinced to leave everything connected to Tidehaven behind I thought it included me. I had your number,my thumb hovered over the call button more times than I would care to admit. I wrote probably hundreds of texts but ended up deleting them all. And the more time passed, the more silly I felt. So I just checked in with Santi or Benny, who knew how you were and even if I was happy to hear that you were good I still selfishly wished I would know it myself.”

“Frankie,” you interrupted, “ I cried my eyes out for weeks because I didn’t hear from you again. I thought you just forgot about me that easily, I thought you never really cared for me in the first place or at least not enough to reach out. Santi told me you joined the army, he gave me your number and I wanted to call you, but what could I possibly have said ? ‘hey, it’s me, you remember me? i was the girl helplessly in love with you but you just ditched me like a fucking prom date’”

Frankie audibly inhaled, his gaze fixed on the ground under his feet. 

“I didn’t ditch you. You were the one that left, remember? I never forgot about you, never.”

“It would’ve been so easy. One message, one call, anything that showed me you still cared” you said, every word tasting bitter on your tongue.

“I never stopped caring, hermosa.”

He could’ve shot you or stabbed you; it would've hurt the same as his words just did. Hot, angry tears blur your vision as you stand up and leave his home. With every step you took the vice around your heart tightened further and when you reached your own house you quickly ran upstairs into your room and fell into your pillow headfirst and started crying everything out. 

The frustration, the hurt, the anger. It was a dangerous cocktail of feelings. Your phone on the nightstand buzzed multiple times, you knew it was probably Frankie but you weren’t ready to talk to him. You needed time to process this.

You didn’t know what hurted more: his absence or the fact your mother kept asking if he’s okay because he didn’t eat with you for a few days. She should ask you how you felt  instead. 

One evening the doorbell rang just when you were setting the table for dinner. Maybe it was one of the neighbors returning a container your mom gave them when she shared some left-over food with them because she used to cook for a whole football team. 

“I’ve got it” you hollered towards the kitchen to your mom as you opened the door. It wasn’t a neighbor, it was Frankie. Live and in color. 

“Hey” he murmured, lifting his baseball cap, running a hand through his locks before he put it back on. He always did that, even back in highschool when he was nervous. Some things seem to still stay the same, even if the adult Frankie was physically so far away from the slender boy ten years ago, somewhere beneath the broad shoulders and the strong arms was still the same boyish heart. 

“Hey”, you answered sharply, contempt probably written all over your face. 

“Honey, is that…?” the voice of your mom joining the two of you in the hallway and her whole face lit up immediately as she spotted Frankie standing in the doorway.

“Frankie, come on in. Food is ready” she beckoned him in with her hand and Frankie looked over to you first, as if he was silently asking for permission but you just huffed and rolled your eyes as you stepped aside and closed the door behind him. 

He followed your mom into the living room, moving his weight indecisively from one foot to another as he stood there. His tall, broad frame filled out so much room but still he looked so small compared to how confident he usually was. 

“Have a seat, Frankie” your mom said as she placed the food onto the table. It smelt absolutely delicious and your stomach growled in anticipation. 

“Thank you Mrs. Davis,” he said politely as he took a seat across from you. 

You watched him hawk eyed as your mom put some food on his plate, like it was the most normal thing in the world and you weren’t still seething under the surface. The poor woman was painfully unaware of the little talk you just had a few days ago. 

“How’s your dad doing, hun’?” she asked while she started eating. Small talk, great. 

“He’s alright. Maybe a bit lonely, but he started doing crosswords and sometimes I can talk him into taking a walk with me. But he misses my mom and so do I, honestly” his eyes were suddenly so sad, so sorrowful you forgot your anger for a moment. 

“Yeah, I can imagine…” your mom answered, her gaze fixed on the plate in front of her, toying with her food. She felt it too. The impending grief, the waiting for the day your dad’s heart stopped beating. It was like looking in a mirror, hearing Frankie talk about his parents and his’ mom’s death. She would feel lonely too, there was no doubt in that. You reached out to gently pat her thigh under the table in silent reassurance and earned a small lipped smile in return. You turned your head towards Frankie, almost on instinct, and he was already looking at you.

After a while of uncomfortable silence your mom changed the topic and asked Frankie about his daughter and suddenly the man in front of you was changed. He straightened his seat, a wide smile on his face the whole time he talked about Sofía. He was so proud, telling you about her love for animals and drawing and you felt something glimmering in your chest. Daddy Frankie was a whole different guy, he was so genuinely happy to just talk about his child it was contagious. You couldn’t help but smile too the wider his grin got when he told stories about the potty training of her or when she accidentally made a somersault when she wanted to reach for something. It was absolutely adorable and at the end of the evening everyone was in good spirits and your mom demanded that if Sofía visited Frankie the next time he should come around so she could meet her and he agreed happily.

When you brought Frankie to your front door, he stood in the doorway, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “Thanks for not kicking me out…” he stifled a laugh and you shook your head. 

“Thank my mom, not me. If it were up to me you wouldn’t even make it in,” you crossed your arms.

“I know, I– look,” he started taking a deep breath. “I am sorry. And I know no amount of words I can say will undo the damage I did. I was an idiot. But I like you so damn much and it’s killing me to not be around you, especially now that I finally got you back. Please, yell at me, hit me ,do anything you want but don’t push me away again.” 

His eyes. His damn puppy dog eyes were lethal as he searched for yours and you sighed. 

You crossed your arms before you answered. “We were young and dumb. We both made mistakes. I guess I can forgive you, stray cat”, you even managed a small smile and he mirrored it with a soft one of his own. “Thank you” he murmured. 

“Don’t make me regret this” you warned, lifting your index finger in a warning gesture and he raised his hands in mock resignation before he said: “Come here.”

He pulled you against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist and you hugged him back, your face buried against his shirt, smiling as you inhaled his familiar scent. 

“You’re so God damn stubborn, hermosa” 

“I am well aware”, you mumbled but the grin on your face was brighter than the porch light you two stood under. 

You lifted your head, your chin resting against his chest and he looked down on you. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and you leaned into his touch, your head resting in his big hand and his breath hitched slightly at the simple but undeniably intimate gesture. His hand wandered from your cheek to your chin, pinching it slightly as he grinned at you. 

“You’re as infuriating as you're beautiful, you know that?” he whispered, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes so quickly you may have not noticed if you weren’t in this close proximity. You bit your lip, your own eyes hanging onto his lips which looked so plush and kisseable in the dim light of the front porch. He bit his lip for a moment, his gaze drifting away. He was battling with himself, you could see it. 

“You’re gonna kiss me now or what ,Morales?” you challenged. 

His head tilted back towards you immediately, his eyes confused for a second before they turned soft again and he dipped his head to kiss you. A quick, cautious peck first, kind of testing the waters, assessing the damage he may have done but you just grinned at him and your hand found the back of his neck, pulling him down towards you and kissing him deeply. It was incredible. If you thought kissing him as a teenager was an experience then this was a whole damn revelation. 

His lips worked against yours with so much gentleness and purpose, but still left absolutely no room for his intentions. His hand tangled in your hair when he walked you back until you hit the facade of your house with your back. His knee between your legs and his hard frame pressing you against the wall. His tongue now seeking entrance into your mouth, exploring every inch of you as you tightened the grip in the ape of his neck, gasping softly into the kiss. It felt like burning up from the inside, but it was worth it. “Dios”, he cursed against your lips. “We have to stop,” he almost whimpered as your foreheads rested against each other, both of you panting. You opened your eyes back up and his gaze on you was dark as you caressed the back of his neck. “I don’t want you to stop” you mewled and his eyebrows raised up, almost disappearing under the visor of his cap before he murmured “Are you sure?” 

“I am” you reassured him and without hesitation he grabbed your hand and led you through the empty streets of Tidehaven towards his house. The street lights illuminating your way and tinting everything in a mysterious glow.  

When you arrived at his house it was dark, no light on despite the one on the front porch when he impatiently fumbled with his keys to let you both inside. You giggled softly and suddenly it felt like all the years back when you were teenagers that were afraid to get caught. 

His hand was on the small of your back when he ushered you inside and as soon as the door was closed he found your lips in the dark again, pressing you against the closed front door.. His hand rested on your cheek and he devoured your mouth like he was starving. You couldn’t help but giggle again at both his eagerness and the situation as you whispered “And your dad ? What if he–?” 

His lips trailed down from your mouth to your jaw and then your neck as he answered horsley “He’s taking sleeping pills, he won’t wake up that easily. If you’re too loud I have to find a way to keep you quiet though” he grinned and sucked at the place ight behind your ear that was one of your most sensitive spots and elicited a soft moan out of you. 

It was like a flip switched inside of Frankie as he hooked his hands under your thighs to hoist you up, his mouth still attached to your neck as he carried you down the hall and opened the door with one hand while he still held you up with the other. He kicked it close with his foot as soon as the two of you were inside. He didn’t even bother to turn on any lights as he gently let you down onto his bed. The only light illuminating the room was the cold blue moonlight from outside. He hovered over you, his eyes, although it was dark, were intense on you and it made your heart race in anticipation. 

“Are you sure you want this?”, he asked again. 

You just nodded as you started to undress him, starting by pulling his shirt over his head revealing a strong chest and a softer belly. You traced your fingers along his sides and he flexed under your touch. This body was different from the one you remembered. It changed, made room for some extra weight around his midsection and some scars adoring his beautiful lightly tanned skin which weren’t there the last time you saw him naked. 

But he was still undeniably attractive, if not more with the strong arms and broad shoulders. A trail of dark, soft hair along his stomach, ending right over the belt of his jeans. You started kissing his neck, nibbling at his collarbone and he rewarded you with a sharp inhale of air. You took your time, drinking him in and he started kissing you back, his teeth grazing over your soft skin as soon as he discarded your shirt, leaving you only in your black lace bralette. He kissed down between the valley of your breasts, his breath hot against your skin as his hand found the clasp of your underwear. “Can I take this off?” he asked. 

“Yes”, you breathed and he opened the clasp, the straps gliding down your shoulders, his fingertips never leaving your skin as the fabric slid off and left you exposed for his exploring hands and hungry gaze. 

He was transfixed, his gaze almost reverential as he took you in. 

“You’re even more gorgeous than I remember, hermosa” he whispered as he started kissing your shoulder. It made you feel desired but also so vulnerable. You weren’t used to praise and most importantly not to someone being this gentle with you. 

“Well, I was still a teen back then. I changed… got fatter,” you complained but he quickly shushed you with a kiss.

“You may have gotten more soft but you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Give yourself some credit.” 

He was sincere in the way he looked at you, his fingers still tracing over every dip and curve of your exposed skin, every stretch mark you hated so much and your heart constricted in your chest at his gentleness and the way he didn’t seem to care at all. 

You tried so hard to not let the old feelings bubble up again but it was a hopeless battle. He didn’t even need to try, he was naturally attentive, he always has been and it’s one of the things you adored the most about him. 

His lips trailed down to your breasts, kissing every one of them softly before his tongue swirled around your hardened nipples, giving every breast the same attention. 

He kneaded the one he wasn’t spoiling with his mouth and groaned softly against your skin. His hips start rolling against you, seeking the friction you both so desperately needed. 

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, bucking your hips to meet him and you were greeted with the rock hard outlines of his dick, even noticeable through the fabric of his jeans. You opened the belt and the zipper, pulled the fabric down, quickly followed by his boxers as well. 

He wiggled a bit to kick off the pants and was above you again in an instant, doing the same with your shorts and underwear. 

As soon as the last bit of fabric was gone the air was even more electrified. It was a strange mix of anticipation and something more you couldn’t quite put into words.

He stopped his administration on your chest and kissed all the way back up to your neck and to your jaw until he found your lips again. It was a messy, open mouthed kiss as you wrapped your arms and legs around him, pressing him als close against you as you could, wanting to feel every inch of him. 

His skin hot and melting yours, every nerve ending of yours on fire.

“Do you need me to grab a condom or are you on birth control?” he asked and in every other circumstance this would be a mood killer, not with Frankie though. 

He was responsible and you appreciated that greatly. 

“I am, don’t worry” you breathed into the dark. 

He searched for your eyes before his hand wandered down your body, his fat fingers sliding between your folds, already wet and leaking just from making out with him as he grinned satisfied, his teeth flashing in the pale moonlight. 

“Damn, so wet all because of me?” he teased and you glared at him. 

“Don’t tease me, Morales”, you warned, trying to sound at least a bit firmer than you felt inside but you clearly failed. 

“‘m sorry” he purred as he latched onto your neck again, his flat thumb now pressing against your clit while the other two digits glided inside of you. You moaned instantly at the impact, one hand finding his soft locks, helplessly pulling at them as he pushed them in-and out of your slick. 

The noise it was creating was almost obscene but you couldn’t find yourself to care. After a few movements you felt him shifting slightly, his hand now on his hardened cock, giving himself a few strokes before his tip teased your entrance and your grip on his hair only tightened. 

“Frankie, please” you whimpered pathetically. 

“I know”, he assured you, gripping your thighs and pulling you just a tiny bit closer to him, lifting your hips slightly before he finally, torturously slow, eased into you and stretched you out completely. 

You didn’t remember if he was that big when you still were younger, but god damn that hurt. “Fuck”, he hissed. “You’re so damn tight I can’t–” he rambled helplessly as his head rested against your shoulder. 

You wiggled impatiently, wanting so desperately for him to start moving. “It’s okay,” you murmured. “You’re not hurting me.”

Your confirmation was what he needed so he bottomed out completely, his pubic hair tickling your most sensitive area and it was heavenly. 

He moaned deeply as your nails found his shoulder blades, digging into his flesh as his grip on your hips tightened as well, the intensity almost bruising. 

“I wanted this for so long, dreamed about this…” he whispered against your hot skin, like it wouldn’t change everything. 

It made your heart skip and you inhaled sharply. 

What were you even supposed to answer when he was balls deep into you and your mind too dazed to form any coherent thought? 

His thrusts were deep and powerful as if he wanted to show you with every single one how much he cared for you, how much he needed you. It was unlike anything else, the air thick and sultry with the smell of both of you and all the unspoken words between you. 

This was a declaration on its own, one you weren’t even sure you were ready for, but there was turning back now. 

You held desperately onto him as his movements fastened and grew more determined. 

He gritted his teeth thrusting into you relentlessly while still making sure you never felt uncared for when he placed soft kisses everywhere he could reach. 

“I-I’m so close, please don’t stop…” you moaned, pressing yourself against his hard frame. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he answered and without warning he took you at your ankles, pulling you up until your heels were resting against his shoulders and the new angle was incredible. He stroked your cervix with every snap of his hips, deliciously deep and mind altering. 

In this position he grabbed your tits with his big hands, kneading them before his thumbs played with your nipples and it was all you needed to find your release. 

You clenched tightly around him and he hissed in response. 

“Yes, I need you to come for me. I need to– fuck!” he cursed as you felt him pulsating inside of you and following your climax just seconds later. He painted your inner walls with thick ropes of his cum and didn’t stop spilling into you as you cried out his name almost too loud for the quietness of the night. 

His whole body shuddered against you before he gently let your legs sink down and collapsed next to you, panting heavily from exertion. His cheeks slightly flushed.

You turned onto your side to face him. Your hand reached out, stroking some damp strands that stuck against his forehead from his face as you grinned widely. Utterly satisfied and spent you mumbled “Not bad, stray cat” and it was a weak attempt at a joke because you were still equally as breathless.

“Not bad?” he choked out, his face mock shock as he turned his head towards you. 

“I am wounded, hermosa,” and you both laughed in unison. 

He pulled you against his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders and kissing your hair. 

It should feel foreign, maybe even a bit awkward but it didn’t. You felt contendly like you probably never did before and it equally scared you and made you feel at ease. 

You drifted into a deep sleep while he was holding you and tracing circles with his thumb over your back. You didn’t know how long you even slept, probably not so much but when you opened your eyes back up it almost burnt your eyesight. 

You groaned and blinked a few times into the bright sunlight. 

Doesn’t this man have some blinds? 

Still pretty much naked you turned around and stretched, feeling the impact of last night in every fiber of your body. You reached next to you, expecting Frankie still laying there but the bedside was empty. You turned your head abruptly before you sat up, only the blanket covering your modesty. 

You outstretched an arm to reach for your phone to check the time or maybe expecting a message from him, but there was none. It was 7a.m and you fell back into the pillow with a heavy sigh, blowing a wild strand of your hair out of your face. 

The fall was deep and hurted more than you cared to admit. You should’ve known better. He got what he wanted and now he is gone. Leaving you alone in his damn bed in his parents’ house and disposing you like you were some trash. Like all the other men before him did too.

You felt the hot feeling of anger building up inside of you when the door of his bedroom opened with a soft screak. 

You didn’t even bother to look up, your arms crossed as you started at the ceiling. 

Suddenly you felt a weight on the edge of the bed and the next thing your senses catched was the smell of freshly brewed coffee before his voice broke the silence.

“Good morning, I made us some coffee. Thought you may appreciate the liquid gold after last night”,his voice nothing more than a soft gravelly rumble in the stillness. 

You propped up on an elbow to be able to look at him. His hair was a messy mop on his head, wearing the same t-shirt from last night and his boxers only. 

It was a delightfully disheveled sight to behold. 

His eyes were tired but his smile, God his smile, was brighter than the sun shining through the windows. 

“I thought you changed your mind”, you pouted. 

His brows creased in confusion. “Changing my mind about what? You? This?” 

You nodded as you reached for the coffee cup he placed onto the bedside table. 

“Never. I was just up a bit earlier and made sure to get us some coffee and maybe some breakfast too if you’re up for it.” 

You sipped at the coffee, the hot liquid almost burning your lips. “Breakfast sounds great” you mumbled but not looking up from your mug. The steam dancing between the two of you he extended his free hand to rake it through your hair, a soft but mischievous smile on his lips. 

“What is this smile about, Morales?” you asked and his smile turned into a full blown grin.

“I was thinking maybe we can go for round two before we grab some breakfast. Unless you’re too tired–” 

You placed the coffee mug on the bedside table again before he even finished his sentence. You climbed into his lap, straddling him and his arms wrapped around you immediately. The sun was shining through the windows, creating a soft halo around you as his hands danced up and down over your bare back, the golden hues in his brown eyes sparkling when he looked up to you, tilting his head slightly to have a better look. “I could get used to this” he murmured against your skin, kissing your forehead, your temple, followed by your nose before he captured your lips in a soft kiss. 

“You better do, because you won’t get rid of me that easily from now on” and it was a promise. 

Five days later your dad died. He stopped breathing during the night and when your mom entered the bedroom her scream echoed through the whole house. It was exactly as awful as you imagined it to be, maybe even worse. You tried your best to be there for her,making sure she ate enough, but all she did most of the time was staring out of the window or playing with her wedding ring when she sat at the diner table, the same tea cup in front of her as in the morning. The days dragged on, functioning on autopilot and everything felt heavy and tinted in grey. Frankie never left your side, held you close the whole night until your tears subsided and you passed out from exhaustion. 

At his funeral it was raining. How fitting, you thought to yourself. The sky mirroring your agony. 

Everyone in Tidehaven attended the funeral and you didn’t want to see any of them. No one cared for you or your mom when he still was alive, they didn’t need to pretend they did now. It was hypocritical and your contempt grew even more. This was all this town could do after all, pretending. 

Frankie’s hand was on the small of your back the whole time, his intense gaze flickering through the crowd to check for any potential misbehavior, but nobody acted up thankfully.

As the casket was lowered into the soil you couldn’t hold back a silent sob as your mom reached for your hand and squeezed it so tight it almost felt like breaking. You didn’t dare to say a word the whole day. You felt paralyzed. 

Frankie’s presence was a silent shadow at your back, when you asked your mom if she needed anything, he did the same for you. It was this day you were certain, despite not believing in it before, you would marry this man because he was your rock through it all. Never complaining, never demanding anything. Just offering silent support whenever needed. 

When the worst was over, the grief only an unwelcome guest in the back of your mind you started to find some solace again. Sitting at the beach, listening to the waves crashing, even some music. You would probably never be the same again, but maybe that was okay. The old you never felt at ease somewhere. Not in the city, not in Tidehaven. But you felt at home in one place: Frankie’s arms. 

You ended up staying in Tidehaven for way longer than you would’ve imagined. Weeks turned into months, into a year. You watched nature go through the seasons while you did the same. You changed, in more ways than one. When they were disappointment and sadness before it evolved into something more positive. Frankie made you see things differently. You started to find real joy again. Not every day was perfect, of course not. But you finally felt like you belonged. Something you searched for your whole life. Turns out the only thing missing was him. All the pain you endured in his absence led you back into his arms after all. When it was almost summer again, the two of you sitting at the pier, watching the sunset he fell down onto one knee and asked you if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. It wasn’t a grand romantic gesture, but you didn’t need that anyway. You knew he was sincere in his words and actions and that was all you needed as you agreed when tears streamed down your face. He hasn't stopped smiling ever since. 

“Hey dad,” you said as you kneeled down onto his tombstone, placing fresh lilies, his favorite flowers, onto it. You gently removed some fallen leaves from his grave. “Just came to tell you the news. Frankie asked me to be his wife and I said yes. How could I not? I wish you could see how happy he makes me, daddy. He’s also a damn menace sometimes, but he…he can handle me. And you know, how hard that is. After all I come after you with my stubbornness,” you chuckled softly. “I would’ve loved to have you walking me down the aisle. I know you and I weren't on good terms, but I think this is something so special for a daughter and her dad and I am sad we can’t experience that together,” your voice was slightly breaking as you played with your engagement ring. A simple silver band with a small diamond princess cut. “I love him, dad. So so so much. But I also love you and I miss you and I am sorry I wasn’t always the best daughter and I am sorry I left you alone with mom for so long. I wish I could go back in time to spend more time with you. Even watch these damn quiz shows you loved so much with you where nobody really ever won something for real. I’m gonna keep a chair empty for you at the ceremony. You can imagine how excited mom is for this damn wedding. I guess for a time she lost hope her daughter would ever settle down. Well, for a long time I did too. But he changed my outlook on things. Oh and, I am also a stepmom now. You know I never wanted kids, but I love Frankie’s daughter endlessly and I think maybe she doesn’t find me that bad as well, at least I hope so,” you exhaled deeply before you finally rose back to your feet again, spotting Frankie standing a bit far off, a soft smile on his face, his hands folded demurely in front of his pants crotch. 

You lifted a questioning eyebrow. “How long are you standing there already?”

“Not so long”, he answered as he stepped towards you. “You okay?” his brown eyes worried. 

“I am. Just told my dad about all that happened. Give him a quick summary, you know,” your left hand resting on Frankie’s chest, your thumb gently stroking the fabric of his Henley, your gaze fixed there. “It’s getting easier, you know. Coming here.” 

“Yeah, I know. It’s kind of healing isn’t it ? Having a place to still be able to talk to them.”

You nodded. “Did you visit your mom already?” 

“No, I was hoping you would come with me. So I could show her your ring and all,” he took your hand that was on his chest, kissing your knuckles, his thumb tracing over your engagement ring. 

“Yeah, sure,” you retorted as you searched for his eyes. “You think she’ll approve ?” 

His lips lifted up into a lopsided smile. “No doubt.” 

He took your hand in his as you walked over the cemetery. It was quiet and peaceful. In the past you kind of avoided places like this because your thoughts would be too loud when your surroundings were silent like this but that finally changed now. 

As you reached the grave of his mom, fresh flowers in the vase he must’ve brought here before you came here, you stopped. His hand still holding yours, his grip slightly tightening when he looked at you, his gaze a mix of different emotions. 

He never brought you here before and you knew how important this must be for him. 

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, giving him a soft smile, trying to give him the same amount of support like he always did. He lowered his gaze a bit as you turned your head towards the grave, still holding his hand, not budging even a bit as you hugged his arm now with your other hand. 

“Hey, Mrs. Morales. I don’t know if you’re aware but I am pretty much in love with your son and I can’t wait to marry him even if I never thought I’d do that honestly”, you snickered and Frankie scoffed next to you. 

“He’s a good person. The best if I may say so myself. You would be so proud of him, I know that, because I am. And I am also so damn grateful to be able to call him mine.” 

It was silent for a long moment after you finished speaking, the only sound was the soft pattering of the starting rain and Frankie’s breathing which was a bit ragged. 

“Let’s get you home, okay?” he spoke silently, his voice slightly hoarse. 

You tightened your grip on his arm and placed a soft kiss against the side of his neck, your breath ghosting over his skin.  “I am already home.”

[blurredfloweryblood]

honest to fucking god, another thing i love about Hades (and also breaks my heart) is when Hades puts Cerberus in charge to change Zagreus's mind.

If he swallowed the bitter saliva, the puke of seeing Meagera's body slowly sink into the ground, pained and angry and returning to the red river that knows Zagreus like it knows its currents; if the Hydra doesn't chew him alive a drop him into the pits of lava, for him to melt and disintegrate; if the Champions are smitten, failing to do their callings worth, then. Then.

Then he will drown himself when the rivers intertwine in one. Because he shall see the heads of his best friend. His loving Cerberus. Zagreus loves better than a dog, and Cerberus is a mighty dog.

His sword will fall. The metal will crack with a crisp sound. Sharp and clean to the air.

Maybe he will sink to his knees, shudder. Reach into Cerberus's fur, like he did when he was a child. Like he still does. Hiding among the red, warm fur, while Cerberus holds him, and the breaths are a lull of calm behind the voices.

Zagreus's best friend. Adoration. His dear, dear Cerberus. Nobody understands, not even you, the bond between them. The sheer childish grin when he greets the guardian of the Realm. And the Guardian? Rolls over and plays tricks and nuzzles Zagreus's face. Worries and whines and asks for him.

He was born and Cerberus was there. And Cereberus saw the bundle of a crying little child, and his eyes lit up. Zagreus's tiny arms reached for the dog, held the tiniest bit his nose and then. Then. Then.

Then you knew. How could you not know? They take you for a blind fool? You're not a fool.

He is a stoke. A crackling light. A dancing flame that coils around his loved ones, and traces a path for the dead to feel like they are alive, again. His blood is red. He is the eternal mortal. Life and happiness and giddy foolishness.

Foolishness that you have to wash out. He will be eaten. He will be chewed. He has to learn. He has to know. And he has left a tiny handprint in Nyx's soul. In every part of the House of Hades, there's a piece of Zagreus, brightening the halls.

He buys flowers for Nyx. The arranges petals at the stairs. Gives Hypnos a comfortable place to sleep. He gifts his earnings like he lives off air only, like he is tearing his own heart in pieces and giving them to people, happily bleeding.

He feeds Cerberus and pats him like Cerberus will die if he won't. When Zagreus left, and for the first time in years the house went cold, Cerberus roared and teared the place apart, looking for Zagreus, looking for the bundle of joy that loves him, always, all the time.

Cercerus's heads hand low, as his paws drag towards the Gates. Seeing the sad faces, the tearing joy of seeing Zagreus, of knowing him leaving, of having him know that he will leave him behind, then. Then. Then.

Zagreus will stop. He will understand. There is no escape.

No escape of the love he has created, and know is leaving to grow cold. The light he is taking with him once he goes. If he leaves, if he goes, and never comes back, to melt the snow and be bestowed with the sun's might, everyone will tear the place down. Take the walls out, rip the tapestry. Cry and lay upon the cold floors, watching the ruins being washed away.

They will drown themselves into the Styx, just to pretend that the red, is Zagreus's color coming back.

If he leaves with no trace. If he leaves a trail, everyone will choke themselves on the chains that keep them here. There is no escape.

You hope he never leaves. That he sheds his stupid dream and finally becomes one with the House. He is the true pillar that hold the ceilings. If he leaves, there will be nothing to love. Just scraps of smoke that everyone will cling to, trying to remember how it felt. How it felt to have a sun with skin, and a beating heart.

There is no escape.

[theallianceofcelestials]

Alright, the idea of symbiote Nexus is awesome, from what I remember, symbiotes are able to share memories with their hosts, so I assume they can also see their hosts memories once they've bonded a bit, sooo, Moon's probably on some hatred list Nexus has, probably at the top of the list too, so could you maybe do a small drabble about it? 👉👈

- 🎭

You can have a short thingy, sure! :)

"I fucking hate that guy"

He sighs as the, as he caught his insane uncle once calling him, unworthy sentient snot grouches in his head again. It makes him want to scream.

"Oh please, we both know that's untrue"

"Oh really? You really wanna question me about that?"

"I do because I know I'm right. I'm in your bra- processor"

He's proud of Nexus for his quick correction. He really appreciates it too.

"Can't we just kill him?"

"Sunny would be sad"

"Is the blind fool really worth it?"

Solar turns away, more figuratively, and the symbiote goes quiet. The topic of his SCP family is the one thing they can never agree on.

"He hurts you"

He's so gentle as he says it. Makes him tense a lot less

"So why do you love him? I no not understand."

And he likely never will. Nexus, for being a genius, is really bad at seeing the complicated nature of relationships. For him they either work, or they don't. And this is why he'll never understand why Moon would ever be important to him.

"You don't need to understand to respect my wishes"

Perhaps it's how choked up he sounds. Perhaps it's the inner storm that're his thoughts, but his friend pulls back. He can feel him holding up his imaginary hands.

They stay quiet for a bit. Solar just looking ahead of himself and Nexus contemplating something. But then-

"Can we still prank him?"

"Oh absolutely"

[belliexpog]

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Best Mistake- Se-Mi

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Synopsis: You know what they say: Unsolved problems always come back. And Se-mi definitely loves being your unsolved problem.

Pair: Se-Mi×F!Reader

Warning: Discussion and swearing.

Words: 2k

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Your heart always clenched at this: Arguments. And when it came to Se-Mi, you almost had a heart attack.

"Oh my god Min-young, how many times have I told you? She's just a friend, for fuck's sake!" The girl gets up from the couch, passing you and walking to the kitchen, in an attempt to perhaps enter another reality if this isn't the argument.

"That's not the point. I was a friend too, Se-Mi, and she was literally throwing herself at you!" You argued back, following her into the kitchen, finding her drinking a glass of water, eyes closed. Suddenly, Se-Mi slams the glass down on the counter and walks past you again."Where the fuck are you going?" You ask, grabbing the girl's wrist, but Se-Mi pulls you back to her, scaring you and leaving you perplexed at the entrance to the kitchen. And she left. She left her house, without further ado, without even telling anyone where she was going or if she would return. And you? There was nothing you could do but accept it and hope that maybe she would come back.

The roar of the engine echoed through the empty streets as Se-Mi pulled up in front of Min-young’s apartment. The night was thick with the scent of rain, the pavement still glistening under the streetlights. Min-young stood by the doorway, arms crossed, your oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder."You always do this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Se-Mi pulled off her helmet, shaking out her dark hair. "Do what?" She asks, walking up the small steps to the front of the house, coming face to face with you. "Come back when you know you shouldn’t." You respond, looking up slightly to face the girl. Your heart was beating hard and fast, as if you were about to vomit it out if you opened your mouth any further. Se-Mi exhaled, stepping closer. "You don’t want me to?"

You hesitated. You should say no. You should turn around and go inside, lock the door, and finally move on. But Se-Mi was here—just like she always was after every fight, every breakup that never really stuck."You make it impossible," You murmured, looking at your crossed arms, unable to hold the gaze of the girl. Se-Mi reached out, tracing her fingers along Min-young’s jaw, and gently taking your chin, lifting your head to her height. "Because we both know this isn’t a mistake." You closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. Maybe you were a cycle of bad decisions, of leaving and coming back, of fights and makeups that felt like breathing. But when Se-Mi kissed you, slow and deep, Min-young knew—some mistakes were worth making over and over again.

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A very very very small one just to say that I'm alive, right?

Anyway, hope you liked it babies

Xoxo!

[stoplight-scrapbook]

a small thing for @tiredfoxtf android!Joel AU (Joel and Jimmy are both androids here)

--------------

Before the Incident

"Hey, Canary."

Jimmy looked up from the vegetable bed he was tending and smiled at his visitor. "'Canary'? You're the one who's a singer, Joel."

"But you've got the plumage," Joel teased. He ruffled Jimmy's straw-gold hair as he passed behind him -- a feat only possible because Jimmy was kneeling on the ground. Jimmy playfully swiped back at Joel with his trowel, intentionally leaving plenty of room for his friend to smirk and dodge out of the way, thank you. Joel was freshly-polished and smartly-dressed, which meant he was supposed to be working and not out here visiting the City Gardens and getting topsoil all over himself. Recklessly regardless of this fact (or, probably, intentionally regardless, knowing Joel), Joel crouched by a nearby bed of decorative flowers and cupped his hand around the blossom of a vibrantly yellow Asteraceae. He was going to get pollen on him. "Maybe I ought to call you 'Sunflower' instead," Joel grinned. To an outside observer, he might've sounded flirtatious -- odd behavior for an android -- but that was simply how Joel was made to be.    

Jimmy was made to be polite and friendly, and to interact with human visitors of all age groups; from the tiny children still learning about the world to the tired elderly who did not appreciate having their misconceptions corrected. And so Jimmy did not point out that the blossom was a Gerbera, not a Helianthus. It would have been impolite. Instead, he laughed and agreed, "Sure, that might be a better fit for me. And you could be, um..." He searched his memory banks for a green songbird. Nothing seemed to fit properly. Query: Green. Animal. Singing. "Cricket." No. That's not right.  

"Cricket!?" Joel sputtered, his voice peaking.

"I couldn't think of a green songbird!" Jimmy stammered. "What's a green thing that sings?"

"Crickets are brown, Jim!"

"They're green sometimes!" Tettigonia viridissima. "...Maybe I was thinking of a grasshopper."

"You need maintenance," Joel huffed. He threw a handful of soil at Jimmy, which fell well short of actually hitting him, but Jimmy grinned and ducked away anyway. Joel was fun when he was being dramatic. "To be fair," Joel said indulgently, "my hair is mostly brown."

"But it's the green bits that you like."

Joel's smile froze, then faded, and his gaze turned downwards. Ah. It was one of those days. That wouldn't do.

Jimmy thought for a moment. "Maybe 'Nightingale' then," he offered in a softer tone. "That's a lovely singer."

Joel made a humming, uncertain noise. "It's a little long for a nickname..." He stood and started pacing in a mimicry of nervous energy. "Anyway, how are you? Anyone bothered you lately?"

"No one today," Jimmy lied smoothly. He turned back to the Daucus he'd been planting and pretended not to notice how Joel was scuffing his designer shoes on the grass and pulling at the sleeves of his shiny jacket -- things that his managers had dictated he wear. It must be awful to be constantly dressed up and paraded about like a doll. To have no say at all in what you looked like. It certainly seemed to bother Joel enough to make him rebellious about it.

No one cared what Jimmy looked like. They cared so little, in fact, that when a particularly irate visitor had gone after him recently and torn up his coveralls, Jimmy had had to mend them himself. Joel had smuggled him scrap fabric from his incessant tailor fittings to patch some of the holes. Now there were splashes of color in strange places. It made him look a bit clownish. Jimmy didn't like looking clownish. But the Garden supervisors wouldn't get him a replacement. Said it didn't impact his function, so it wasn't needed. It wasn't worth the effort. He wasn't...

Jimmy finished planting his row, gathered his tools, and stood to his full height. He was careful to hide the stiffness in his left arm, so Joel wouldn't see and get worried. "I wouldn't tell you anyway, if someone had bothered me," he said to Joel. "You'd go and get yourself into trouble about it."

Joel craned his neck up to scoff at him. "Me? Get in trouble? Psh. I never get in trouble."

"Right. Sure you don't," Jimmy grinned at him. "And how many times have you been to see your mechanic this month?"

Joel looked sharply away and didn't respond. Jimmy laughed quietly and started walking further down the path -- slowly, so that Joel with his smaller stride could keep up. Joel still didn't look at him, and Jimmy could could hear his cooling systems spinning up. Strange. 

"What brings you to the Garden, by the way?" Jimmy asked, politely offering a change in topic. They'd reached the Fragaria rows, which should be just starting to fruit. "I know you're just across the road there at the music building, but it's business hours, right?"

"I'm...waiting," Joel answered with a grumble. He was staring at the plants. "Escaping. Marketing's made me stand in meetings all day while they argue about changing my look again. They're on lunch now. No one said I couldn't go for a walk."

That explained why Joel was so on-edge today. Of all the things Joel hated about his purpose, the poking and prodding and changing seemed to bother him the most. Jimmy wished that he could help him. Or at least ease the pain of it a little.

He felt guiltily lucky, in a way. Jimmy liked his purpose. He liked feeling earth under his hands and watching as the first green shoots pushed upwards towards the sun. He liked having a purpose, liked feeling that he was doing something important, tangible. Helpful. He would've liked it better if he'd had a choice about it, of course. If he was recognized and respected for it, and treated better than the rakes tossed into the back of the tool shed when the season was over.

Jimmy knelt down by the soil bed and started checking over the vines, pleased to see several of the tiny fruit-buds starting to appear. "Well, you're always welcome here," he said to Joel. "Any time you need to escape for a bit, or just complain about things, you know where to find me."

Joel knocked a fist against Jimmy's (uninjured) shoulder -- an expression of gratitude -- and sat down in the dirt next to him. His managers were definitely going to be upset with him. "I'd like that," Joel said. "Maybe I'll sneak in some nights and visit, keep you company so you don't get lonely." He said it as casual as discussing the weather.

Jimmy knocked his right fist against Joel's shoulder.

They sat in silence a while, Joel seemingly content to just watch Jimmy work. Jimmy went about his weeding and watering, checking for parasites. The weakness in his left hand only made him fumble once or twice, easy enough to pass off as clumsiness. He put a bit of soil on his tongue to analyze, to make sure the nutrient balance was still good. The leaves all looked healthy, strong and green. One of the plants at the end of the row looked a bit off, though. The fruits were coming in a bit misshapen. Jimmy examined them, and then the rest of the plant, checking for signs of rot or infestation. He couldn't see anything unusual. No molding at the roots, no discoloration in the leaves, though they were a tad wilty. Using his work knife, he carefully cut the smallest and worst-looking of the fruit-buds off the vine and stuck it in his mouth to run a chemical analysis. Sometimes people poured things onto the ground, around the roots, that could affect the yield of otherwise healthy plants. That might have happened...

Joel was staring at him.

Jimmy took the fruit out of his mouth. "Something wrong? What's that look for?" Joel didn't answer immediately, and the expression on his face looked strange. Jimmy frowned. "Joel?"

"Have you ever thought about it?" Joel asked, oddly. His voice sounded strange as well -- unsettled, somehow. "Have you ever wondered what it's like? To eat?"

Jimmy stared back at him uncertainly. "I can't say that I have...why?"

Joel continued staring at him, at his mouth, at the unripe strawberry in his hand. "You grow food. For humans. There's androids who are chefs, who make meals for humans. You and I could learn to do that. But we couldn't eat what we make."

"We don't need to eat," Jimmy said slowly, worriedly. "We get our energy in other ways."

"But haven't you wondered? Haven't you thought about what it would be like to- to mash something up with your teeth and your tongue? To swallow and feel it going down your throat? To have a-a stomach and to digest things--"

"Joel, are you alright?" Jimmy interrupted, concern rising rapidly.  

Joel did not look alright. His eyes were too wide. One of his hands had crept up towards his neck. He looked haunted and starving, like the emaciated cat Jimmy had found hiding in the bushes last winter. He was still staring, but Jimmy wasn't certain he was seeing anymore. "We can't even taste things, not really," Joel said in what sounded like a frighteningly desperate whisper. "We just analyze them, like you did that berry." A moment of quiet. "Do you have a favorite fruit, Jim?"

Jimmy wasn't meant to have a favorite fruit. He wasn't meant to have a friend, either. And his friend looked like he might break if he didn't get an answer.

Jimmy thought about it.

"...Rubus idaeus," he admitted, whispering too. It felt like a dangerous secret. "They mold quickly, which is dangerous for humans, but..." He looked away from Joel's too-intense stare, down towards the soil. "It's interesting when the mold is just catching. One life starting to...consume the other, but you can't see it happening yet. You can only tell if you-... if you use the right instrument."

"It's cruel," Joel whispered lowly, harshly. "They make us instruments. Tools. Purpose-built. And we can't even enjoy the things they make us for."

Jimmy's sympathy and worry responses were mixing together into a mess. Joel was deathly still, unnatural even for an android. "You're overloading yourself," he warned, gently.

Joel didn't answer, again. So Jimmy reached over and carefully cupped the back of Joel's neck. Pushed gently at a particular spot and sent a short-range Query. And Joel let him through his firewalls.

Connection Established.

Jimmy Read him. Joel's emotional systems had gone terribly unstable. He was angry and despairing, and the reactions were feeding into each-other, looping and looping and looping. Jimmy prompted him to close the stuck processes. It took longer than it should have. "You've done something to your code again, haven't you?" he scolded, worried. "Your reactivity controls are all mangled. You've got to stop hurting yourself like this..."

"Why are you worrying about me?" Joel countered, "You're damaged!" He pinged at Jimmy's left arm, at the deteriorating motor systems and touch-sensors run raw. "Those components are nearly failing, why didn't you say anything? How long has it been like this!?"

Jimmy flinched. He'd forgotten that the connection went both ways and let Joel snoop on his systems. "It doesn't impact my function."

"The hell it doesn't! You work with your hands!"

"I have to get approval for every repair request." And they both knew Jimmy wasn't likely to get approval until that arm stopped functioning completely. "There's nothing to be done about it."

"Jimmy..."  

Joel's emotions were staring to loop again, and again Jimmy had to prompt him to Stop before his instability got worse. For a while they just sat there and shared processing power, Jimmy helping Joel cool his emotions down and Joel prodding at Jimmy's motor control programs to try and re-route around the failing parts. It was the best that they could do for each-other. Joel couldn't make Jimmy's supervisors care enough for well-being to keep him from falling apart, and Jimmy couldn't stop Joel's managers from violating his sense of identity so much he started hurting himself for a sense of control. They couldn't protect each-other. At least they could share the load.

"You should talk with my mechanic." Joel sent a sent a contact file. "He can work around your contract restrictions." 

"I've heard that promise before."

"He's different. He cares." Joel's absolute surety gave Jimmy pause. "He's..." And that was a *very* complicated spike of emotions, a spike that Joel clearly didn't want examined further. He started pulling away in a panic. 

Jimmy dropped the connection instantly. He let his hand fall back, and turned away to allow Joel the privacy to gather himself. He went back to his plants, putting the fruit he'd cut into a pocket. He would need to request a supervisor come look at the struggling Fragaria. Hopefully they could coax it through the season, though realistically they might just uproot it. It would go into the composting bin and rot, and turn to mulch, and eventually be used to feed the next batch of seedlings. Decay was a natural process. Just another step in the cycle of life.

He felt Joel's fist against his shoulder and turned back towards him. Joel looked a bit embarrassed, but far more present and in control of himself than he had a moment ago. "I think my time's running out," Joel said. "Gotta head back."  

Jimmy gave him a smile and an encouraging nudge. He wasn't going to press -- Joel would tell him about 'his mechanic' when he was ready. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

Joel stood and brushed himself off, and messed up Jimmy's hair once more as he walked off. Jimmy watched him go until he turned a corner towards the Garden exit.

He flexed his left hand a few times. Rolled the shoulder and bent the elbow. His movements weren't smooth -- his hand in particular still felt a bit stiff and jerky -- but he felt like he had a bit more control of his movements than before. It was functional, for now, and nothing hurt. That was enough.

He closed his eyes. Sat back on his heels. Took a moment to center himself. The breeze pulled at him, the sun warmed the soil, the sounds of the city were distant and muffled by the Garden's walls. If he'd had lungs he would have breathed and inhaled the scent of growing things.

He stood. Gathered his tools. Continued down the path, into the orchards, towards the back of the Garden. It was a beautiful day. There was still work to do.

Joel worried him. He wanted so badly, was so reckless and self-destructive in his pursuit of something that simply wasn't possible. It was a dangerous path. Jimmy was afraid he might lose him to it. But if he let himself think about it, let himself imagine what it would be like to breathe...he couldn't deny that the fantasy was tempting.

Jimmy looked up through the boughs of the orchard trees and past the walls of skyscrapers that surrounded the Garden, to the distant, dusty sky far above. Another tempting fantasy. Another thing that was impossible.

Joel wanted to be human. Jimmy just wanted to be free.

...Movement.

Jimmy's vision was pulled towards it and he was startled right out of his thoughts.

There was a human in the nearby apple tree. Sat on the lowest sturdy branch was a slight man with light-brown hair, wearing a bright red pullover. He was most of the way through eating an apple. "Can I help you?" Jimmy called up, incredulously.

"No thank you," the man answered around a grin and a full mouth, "I don't need any help."

"Could you get down from the tree, please?" Jimmy continued as politely as he could. He really did not need more stress today. "Before you hurt yourself? Or the tree? I'll go get a stepladder–"

"Oh, no need," the man replied. "I can get down on my own." He dropped the apple core to the ground, then dropped himself off of the branch, dangling by his arms for a tense moment. Then he fell the rest of the way to the ground, tucked into a roll as he landed, and came up dusting himself off.

"Thank you," Jimmy sighed. Now that the human visitor was safely grounded, he stepped towards the tree to examine its trunk for damage. "We'd really rather people didn't climb them. The trees. It's easier to damage them than people realize."

The man had the decency to look chagrined. "Ah...sorry about that, then." He cleared his throat. "Actually, I was hoping I could help you."

"You're interested in volunteering in the Garden? There's an application form at--"

"No, not the Garden. You."

Jimmy looked back, confused.

The man was suddenly holding some kind of…brochure? On the front of it was a picture on it of a computer screen with a mustache, and the words 'Personhood Initiative'. The man smiled at Jimmy, hesitant and hopeful-looking. "I was wondering if we could talk for a bit, if you have time? My name's Grian. What's your name?"

[imeriayapping]

an angsty shark n' roses fic about their shift from childhood friends to current rivals? stranger? do whatever dynamic you want for them. Greatly appreciated, also I am in love with your work, you're lowkey carrying this ship on your back, goat.

Pedro misses the sea. He craves its’ comfort.

The dream of stepping into the water and never coming back is always there, lifting up the pressure of living off of him. Right now, that dream also contains Fermin, who is watching him make first step towards the place of no return. Fermin, who he also wants to steal; for them to seat on the beach after long day of training, before they’ll need to return to Pedro's childhood home because his parents are about to become too worried with how long they’ve been gone for.

He misses the sea. The calm and warmth that was there when he looked at the waves while sitting under the evening sun.

Right now, Pedro can't have none of those things.

Instead, he is sitting in his van. Silent, cold and alone. Somehow, this hurts more than any of his previous crashes.

But he knows that it’s the only right thing for him to do. They can't be close anymore. Not like that, at least.

They’re all grown up now and there’s no place for such a childish thing as love between them. It's the only way for them to be.

Pedro can't risk running into Fermin on track and have everything blow up right in his face.

Maybe, it will never stop hurting. Maybe, he will never feel as warm as he did once, sitting next to Fermin on the beach. Maybe, when he comes back to the sea, it won't calm him like it did once.

But it all will be worth it in the end. He is here; he fought for his place. No one will be able to take that away from him.

And Pedro will give anything away, if it means he will be able to chase all of the glory that there is left to get. Pole position was nice, but he knows, for a fact, that podium tastes better. Podiums are very nice too, but he can feel how much more his first win will be.

And, on some nights, he goes to sleep dreaming of the championship. It doesn't matter that the place on his bed beside him is cold.

It doesn't.

But not tonight. Tonight, instead of that, he's just laying in his bed that is simultaneously too small and too empty. He and Fermin spent too many nights cramped together in this place that now it feels cold and empty. It’s still and absolutely soundless, amplifying all of the thoughts in Pedro's head. Which is evidently doing no good for him. Obviously.

Right now, all Pedro can do is curse the whole paddock that made his van the safest and most convenient place to be themselves together.

Because, now, when he needs to hide, to pretend that no feelings were ever involved, it's impossible to do with every centimetre of the van being full to the brim with the memories of them.

And that's the last thing he needs at the moment.

It was hard enough to tell Fermin everything. To see hurt paint his features in real time. To maintain his indifference, not to rush to his side and comfort him.

But it was the right decision. They truly can't continue on like that. Can't keep getting even more intertwined. It will not only be huge risk at the track, but also...

What would happen if it comes to light? Their careers would be ruined without even starting properly.

So, Pedro truly made this decision for both of their sakes. Now, all that is left is to convince his stupid heart that Fermin should no longer occupy any space in it.

It hurts to even think about that, but it needs to happen no matter what.

He can't keep carrying Fermin in his heart like he had for the years before.

To be completely honest, Pedro is cursing himself at this very moment. Because, he should’ve predicted this. Should’ve never even let Fermin anywhere near his own heart. But what can you do, when you are ten and, suddenly, there is someone right in front of your face, whose passion for bikes is on par with your own?

There was no way Pedro could ignore him at the time.

He really should have, though.

With all of this, Pedro wonders: if he could go back in time to warn his old self of what was to come out of that innocent friendship - would he?

Because, even with how much it hurts to ignore Fermin now, he can't imagine going through his life without carrying this love inside of him. Honestly, looking at his life as a whole, he would probably be different person entirely. Love has the power to change people, and it clearly did so before.

So, Pedro needed to cut out the source of love, before it had the chance to influence his riding.

There is nothing more important than his riding.

He should focus on that instead of unnecessary feelings.

The gap in his heart is irrelevant.

[vasilissadragomir]

no i see the vision completely and you wouldn’t even need to kill the love triangle outright!! just centering their friendship over the love/conflict with peeta would make so much of a difference.

and as i wrote this, i realized this is EXACTLY how the trilogy went from gale’s perspective.

like imagine if gale actually believed her when she said she was acting for the cameras because he could tell how uncomfortable she was in the cave. they’re best friends—he truly sees her and knows her. he knows how she thinks and, also, understands the strategy. he’s proud she’s doing what she can to survive, to come home to her family. to him. sure, he’s a bit miffed about The Kiss, but he’s already been surprised by katniss’ acting skills, so maybe she is better than he realized. and when she tells him it was all haymitch’s idea, he chooses to believe her.

and then six months of not talking to peeta confirms what he was already 99% sure of, that she’s not actually interested in peeta. so gale tries to be there for her and understand what the games were like. and her increasing affection MUST be a sign he’s getting it right, and not a result of her desperately clinging to the ONE thing at home that, at face value, hasn’t seemed to change, seeking what’s no longer there in the singular act of being out in the woods with him that used to bring her comfort, right?

and when he kisses her, it’s what he truly believes to be a ramp-up of what’s already been happening. so he’s confused when she doesn’t fall right into his arms, head over heels in love. and he’s even more confused when she goes on the victory tour and comes back with a newfound interest in peeta. then katniss is telling him that about snow’s threat, and the tension in the districts, and all the sudden he understands why she’s distracted from romance. why she’s not ready to pick up where they left off. but what he doesn’t get is why NOW she wants to run, when she never did before. now, when she has actual power and can use it to light the real spark of revolution and change the fate of the people of the districts. that’s bigger than any romance they may or may not have.

and yes, he knows she didn’t ask for that power, he knows the risks just as well as she does, but to not use it is unforgivable. but before he can process their latest divide, he’s been whipped, and she’s kissing him. and he knows she’s solidly picked him. but then the reading of the card happens, and they both know she’s going to die. and as he’s spending his few precious hours of free time training her, peeta, and haymitch for the games, he realizes she’s going to die not just because of snow, but because he’s training katniss on how to save peeta. he sees that, even if there was a chance she’d survive, she’d still pick peeta over herself. she’d rather die than come home to him again. and it’s especially devastating because, as he comes to know peeta, he understands why.

it’s all cut and dry until he watches peeta open the locket on the beach and sees his own face on the giant screen in the town square. peeta surely knows katniss intends to die for him to live, so why would he use gale to try and change her mind?

and then it clicks. peeta isn’t from the seam. he doesn’t understand owing. he doesn’t get that katniss cannot live while peeta dies. not just because she cares about him, but because she still owes him so much. so, from peeta’s perspective, it must mean she needs reminding of someone that she cares about more than peeta. and peeta thinks that’s gale. and because peeta has proven by his actions in both games that he has so little self-worth, gale knows for sure that peeta would happily die if it gave katniss a chance to live.

for a moment, he feels foolishly and selfishly hopeful that even his competitor for katniss’ heart thinks gale is her true love. but then he watches The Kiss Part II, and it all comes crashing down again. because in this moment where peeta expresses his vulnerability, his pain, she kisses him, just as she kissed gale after his whipping. which means that when she kissed gale, it was because he was in pain. except, when she kissed him, it wasn’t at all like how she’s kissing peeta right now. there’s a desperation in her actions on the beach that never existed with him. and he comes to the conclusion that while she initiates kisses with both of them because they’re in pain, she kisses peeta like that because she can’t survive without him. what he doesn’t know is if it’s because she owes him or because she loves him.

but he doesn’t have any time to figure it out because suddenly he has to save whoever he can from the annihilation of his town. he saves his family and hers, but he can’t get peeta’s. so now gale owes peeta, too. everyone has lost everyone and everything. he’s so blinded by the trauma and the anger and the hatred that something as frivolous as who katniss loves is entirely irrelevant. all that matters is that she gets out of the arena. and when he sees her, he’s so relieved that his best friend escaped again and so, so sad that he has to tell her that her home was destroyed that he just wants his friend. for her to be there for him like he tried to be there for her after her first games. to be there for him in a way she couldn’t be as he spent a whole year going into the mines all day every day and watching his family starve.

but peeta didn’t come with her. she goes into a state of psychosis, so she can’t be there for gale because she can’t even function herself. and he knows he’s right that she can’t survive without peeta. he’s so angry at the people who did this to her, who took his best friend and replaced her with a shell of a person, who destroyed his home and 90% of his community, that he’s prepared to do anything to end their power. he knows he can help, too. snares, traps, strategy. he was born for this. he’s been training for this his whole life. and finally, he’s being recognized for it, by none other than the leader of the rebellion.

katniss never wanted the power she got, but he did. not for selfish reasons. but because he knew he had it in him to change the world. and now, for the first time, he has some. for the first time, he’s not being told to quiet down or forget about his ideas, his beliefs, his feelings. the leader of the rebellion is not just entertaining, but validating his worldview. she values his opinions enough to use them. and he wants katniss to come back so bad so he can share this with her, like they used to in the woods. so they can be themselves again.

and slowly but surely, she does come back. they hunt, they talk, they eat. they argue, yes, more than ever, but she’s still not recovered and, well, neither is he. he’s accepted that she chose peeta, even though he hasn’t figured out if she chose him because she owes him or loves him. sure, there’s a sliver of hope that she chose peeta because she owes him, but it’s not that important right now, because at least he has his best friend. a best friend he can fight alongside for their freedom in district 8, just as he they always dreamed of.

until he doesn’t. because he goes to rescue peeta. mostly for her, but also for him, because of that damn sliver of hope. and a little for peeta, because he really is annoyingly likable. but when he returns wounded, he knows she’s in the hospital for peeta. when she looks at him, she’s seeing right through him. confirming he’s alive and nothing more.

so when she says she’s writing peeta off and is kissing him while they’re in 2, he knows she doesn’t mean it, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. because she’s reckless in a way she’s never really been before, and he knows her. he knows that the moment that peeta returned hijacked, she lost her will to live. she’d rather die than live on a planet where peeta, the real peeta, doesn’t exist. so he finally understands it doesn’t matter if she chose peeta because she owes him or because she loves him—either way, she can’t survive without him.

but he doesn’t really have the wherewithal to be hurt about anything romantic because of the look in her eyes when he proposes his plan for the nut. his brilliant plan that no one, none of the experienced adults, none of the victors, even, were able to come up with. the plan coin herself agreed with. because this plan, despite its efficacy, has irrevocably changed something between them. and yes, it’s been changing for a while, but not to this extent. the way she’s looking at him, as if he suggested killing a mountain full of innocent people, is not a look she’ll ever take back.

it takes watching the boulders tumble down the mountain, hearing the rumble of the avalanche, smelling the blood from the wounded, for him to see what she sees. his father, her father, condemned to a death in the mines to which they were shackled. these were not innocents, no, but they were people. people oppressed by the capitol, just like him. not quite as bad, much like the people from town in 12. but not taking tesserae didn’t spare them in the end, did it? his stomach is in knots, but coin assures him that it was for the good of the cause. and not just the cause, but for the majority of the people in district 2. so he decides to believe the ends justify the means.

they’re sent to fight. and at least he and katniss are on the same side. because he knows she’s there to kill snow. and while he’s there to win the war, his loyalties to his friend will always take precedent. especially since her goals and his happen to be aligned. but then peeta is sent to join their unit. and he knows that the only person who could have authorized that is coin. the very same person he’d followed down the path of trapping and killing a whole mountain full of miners.

at this point, gale knows the chance of katniss ending up with him are gone. it’s confirmed by her outburst, her anger, and ultimately, her kissing him outside the sewer. but he needs to salvage their friendship, because at this point the only other person he thought he could trust has made a choice that would unequivocally sentence katniss to death.

so the only thing left to do to keep their relationship alive is to do what is necessary to restore katniss’ will to live. which means helping peeta remember who he is. and to do that, peeta needs to know what’s real and what’s not real. especially about katniss herself. so, that night in tigris’ cellar, gale lays it out for him, clear as day. he explains katniss’ thought process so that peeta can understand her calculus. he knows it to be true because he knows her like he knows no one else. or at least he thought he did. because when he’s captured, she doesn’t shoot him.

when the second bomb explodes, he knows that everything he believed, everything he thought he knew, was wrong. he can tell because beetee feels the same. coin didn’t just use their brains. she weaponized their anger. gale wasn’t sure he was okay with that when he was trapping an enemy. but now, now that prim, someone he loved like his own sister, was in that pen, he knows it was all wrong. katniss had been right. and the thing that changed between the katniss in the woods the morning of her reaping and the katniss in this hospital bed in the president’s mansion was peeta. so when he tells her that the only thing he had going for him was protecting her family, he didn’t mean romantically. he means as a friend.

because gale realizes that even though he thought he couldn’t survive without katniss, the truth is that he can. he might love her now, but what he needs his own dandelion in the spring. so, once katniss does what must be done, he goes back to the place where he first felt the shift. the place where the mountain tumbled. his first arena. and there, he meets a girl. a girl with tan skin and soulful brown eyes. a girl who loves district 2 and its people and shows him the beauty in this place he hated enough for destroy. a girl who loves more than she hates. a girl who makes him want more than just to survival—she makes him want to live.

I know the love triangle represented Katniss choosing between war and peace but like. I would have loved Gale and Katniss just being besties. Best friends who could tell each other everything.katniss would get home from the victory tour giggling and kicking her feet about Peeta with Gale nodding as he listens to her yap. Gale telling Katniss the tea that happened while she was away. Katniss watching her best friend slowly get radicalized and manipulated by Coin.

Katniss's best friend, who she could tell anything to, being the one who caused Prim's death in the end.