gallowsheart

[gallowsheart]

“I made a lot of mistakes, I did a lot of things that didn't make me feel good. I compromised a lot when i was a kid. I learned a lot. I found that i'm guided by what makes me feel best at the end of the day, so I’m picky now. I’m pickier.”

— Logan Lerman for GQ Magazine.

[gallowsheart]

Trevante Rhodes Icons

psd x

[gallowsheart]

Theo knew her face better than any in the world, with one exception. After a lifetime of friendship, he could read her easily, and he knew how close she was to breaking down. The only question was why. He was having difficulty telling how much of it was because of James and how much of it was because of him. They hadn't parted on the best terms. Theo was aware of just how much he'd hurt her the last time he was in town, and he hated himself a little for it. He'd been out of line, and then he'd managed to fuck up the fuckup even worse in true Wolfram fashion.

He was prepared for the comment, but it still stung when it landed, as it was probably meant to. He deserved that and more, but since it was Feyre, she'd never really let him have the brunt of her anger or hurt feelings. They both just pretended they weren't there and went back to acting normal until things really did feel normal again. It was against the rules for him to be standing here now, actively trying to address a problem. No wonder neither of them knew how to do it properly.

"Maybe I didn't," he agreed quietly. "Maybe I never asked, or maybe I never really listened to the answer. But I'm here now, and I'm asking you. You're not a ghost, Feyre. You're not nothing. You're my best friend. You've been my best friend my whole life. Whatever else has happened, that's still true." For him, anyway. He understood if she didn't feel that way about him anymore. He hadn't been a very good friend to her recently either, and maybe in some ways, he'd always been lacking in that department. A little too selfish, a little too distant, among other things.

He shook his head slowly, not buying it. "Wrong answer, gorgeous." His hands reached for hers, and unlike Feyre's they didn't fall short unless she stepped back out of reach. He couldn't pretend that wouldn't hurt, but he couldn't stand to watch her shaking and trying so hard not to cry without trying to comfort her. She wasn't convincing, and he wasn't convinced, and he wasn't going to be able to let this go now. He wasn't sure, deep down, that she wanted him to. This looked for all the world like a cry for help. He still didn't know if Aven was right about James, but she was right about Feyre not being okay. He couldn't leave her until he knew she was, and even Theo could see that might take some time.

@gallowsheart ( X )

Feyre’s hand moved on instinct.

To smooth the furrow in his brow.

To trace the edge of his jaw.

To offer something soft in the face of so much hurt.

But she didn’t reach him.

Her hand stopped short, fingers curling in midair before she let them fall back to her side. Like touching him would make it worse—for her, for him, for everything they never said out loud.

The guilt twisted in her gut before she could stop it.

Of course you reached for him. Of course you did.

James would call it selfish. Emotional bleeding. Needy.

She hadn’t even realized how much that voice—the one that wasn’t hers—had made itself at home in her head. All sharp edges dressed up like protection.

She swallowed hard.

She hadn’t cried when James snapped at her. Not when he called her exhausting. Not when he gripped her arm hard enough to bruise and told her she should be grateful he still gave a damn.

She hadn’t cried when she curled up in the corner of his apartment afterward, willing herself smaller, quieter, less.

But this?

This was the ache that threatened to break her open.

Theo’s voice. Theo’s face. The furrow in his brow that meant he saw her. That he cared— maybe in the wrong way—but still.

It would be easier if he didn’t.

If he hadn’t come looking.

If he hadn’t asked.

“Are you happy?”

She asked, voice nearly above a whisper.

“Were we ever really happy? . . . Did you ever care to hear my real answer before?”

God. She wanted to scream. Wanted to shake him by the collar and say Where were you? When it mattered? When she needed him? When she was folding in on herself and calling it self-growth?

But she didn’t scream.

Instead, she breathed. Shallow. Unsteady.

And tried not to cry in the middle of the sidewalk like a girl with a broken heart and no more excuses left.

“What does happy even look like?”

Was it James leaving her sunflower stems in a cracked vase? Or the way he flinched when she got too animated about frogs or stars or the way light looked when it passed through leaves?

Was it someone who stayed but never really saw her?

Someone who showed up but never chose her?

Was it this?

This moment—standing here in front of the boy she’d loved since before she knew what love even was—trying to convince herself that what she had now was enough?

Her chest burned. Her hands trembled. And still, she said nothing of what she was thinking.

Instead, she lifted her eyes to his, and with all the gentleness she could muster—voice steady only because it had to be—she said:

“Maybe I don’t know what happy really is… Maybe I’m finally trying to learn what that actually looks like.”

That was all she could give him.

All the truth she could afford without collapsing.

And even that nearly undid her.

[gallowsheart]

Vivi had stopped over at a table for a minute to hydrate (and, intoxicate?), her feet and legs already aching from dancing. There must have been a reason those strappy new heels had been on sale since she was ready to throw them in the nearest dumpster and walk home barefoot. It was her one night off this week, and she wasn't going to call it an early night because of her shoes. The scrap of fabric she called a dress didn't come close to showing off every tattoo she had, but it showed a lot.

There was a row of shots lined up on the table like she was waiting for a crowd of friends. She did have a couple somewhere in the club, but none that she was expecting to come back to drink with her. She turned an assessing look on the speaker and decided they were definitely hot enough to join her, but nobody came to a club to sit. "I'll allow it for the duration of one song, and then we're going to dance. Also, I think you need to get on my level, gorgeous." She nudged two of the shot glasses in their direction and downed one for herself. It was like Vivi to act like they were already friends.

It had been a long week and Allison was, in every way, sore. They were reasonably fit and physically active in their job, but their hands felt unpleasantly weak, making even holding the glass of booze feel like it was more difficult than usual. Unfortunately, it seemed that absolutely everyone had the same idea as they had, and while the dance floor of the club was busy - and loud - even the tables around the outside edge seemed to be occupied.

After circling the floor a couple of times, they brushed big bushy curls back out of their hair with a hand, feeling the glass in their other hand slip slightly. Their hand dropped to brace it with a sigh before they spotted a table with only one occupant. Lips flattening into a line for a moment, they shook their head. They already had a drink, so leaving felt out of the question. Instead, they made their way to the table with as much of a pleasant smile as they could manage after a long day of work.

"Do you mind if I sit?"

[gallowsheart]

Hearteyes

[gallowsheart]

Every teenager in Devil's Holler had sought out those flowers at some point to see if the stories were true, though not everyone could find them. They only grew deep in the wilderness, and even experienced hikers like Jed had trouble finding them. Then again, he'd never tried after that first experience. Once was enough. He was more likely to stumble upon them by accident and give them a wide berth.

"It's a local thing. They're--" He broke off his explanation to suck in a breath when she suddenly toppled backward. For a moment, the greenery and the glittering cloud of pollen almost obscured her completely. There was no possible way he was completely out of range, not with the nice breeze they had going, and he couldn't help the abrupt, gruff laugh that slipped out. Okay. That wasn't exactly how he'd planned to spend the rest of the day, but it wasn't a fate worse than death.

"Scratch that. There's a creak nearby, we can clean off. You'll be fine, I promise." He did not, however, get any closer to help her up. At least one of them had to be able to keep their head. "The flowers are sort of an… aphrodisiac."

🐝 sex pollen meme

@alwaysxinxtrouble

The woods and mountains of Devil's Holler weren't only full of terrible things. They were actually very beautiful in the daytime, with the right guide and a good eye for traps. Jed enjoyed hiking them with Robin and showing her some of his favorite areas, and they were some of the few times they got to be out and alone together, away from the ranch and his obnoxious brothers. He’d come to look forward to these days with her.

The trail had turned them out into a clearing, little patches of wildflowers dotting it here and there, and he’d paused to recheck the map where he’d forced Elijah to mark all their current traps. There shouldn't be any anywhere near them, but it never hurt to be sure. He didn’t notice the oddly glittering flowers until Robin had already reached them. "Wait-- don’t walk through those." It was too late, and he sucked in a breath. "Shit. Okay. Walk back out slowly, and try not to breathe in. You'll be fine. They're not ...poisonous." Well, they wouldn't kill her, anyway. That didn't make them safe.

[gallowsheart]

[gallowsheart]

"That's true. Getting used to something isn't the same as managing it though. Do you feel you're managing that weight you're carrying?" Most people who came to therapy weren't doing a lot of managing, but she tried not to make assumptions. Life didn't teach them the tools for that. It was all about survival, just getting through. Blair was there to help handle the fallout when they came out of survival mode.

She'd read through his files in preparation, but she had no idea how much had been redacted to make him appear human. Blair had no idea there was an entire other supernatural world beyond the normal one she was familiar with. She occasionally shifted her posture or made a note, but she wasn't fidgeting. Just enough movement to make her patients feel comfortable instead of scrutinized.

"Someone specific? You can use a letter if you're not comfortable sharing names with me." It was a gentle prompting. She could guess--his file mentioned years of living with an abuser--but again, she didn't like to make assumptions. Trust issues weren't uncommon in her line of work. She may have had a few of her own, especially when it came to family. It was remarkable her father's machinations hadn't messed her up more than they had. She only had to look at some of her siblings to know it was true.

A lot of people were resistant to therapy at first. In a world that constantly told them to bottle their feelings, Blair could understand why. Part of her job was showing them that it was okay to feel things and that this was a safe space for sharing. She was still idealistic enough to believe help was possible for everyone. (Whether or not she was the best person to help them wasn't exactly a given though-- she didn't have that much ego.)

She was quiet and patient, letting him work through what he wanted to say. Lucien wasn't just a closed book; he was a clenched fist, keeping everything tightly within his grasp. But nobody could hold on forever. Eventually, things slipped out. She'd known it would be difficult from their first meeting, since he hadn't chosen to come here on his own. It sounded like quite a few people had staged an intervention, actually. He was lucky to have so many who cared about him.

"That's a lot to carry on your shoulders at once. Every mistake you've ever made. Why don't we concentrate on one, for now? Is there something that stands out? Something that weighs you?"

[gallowsheart]

Ben Barnes as Billy Russo THE PUNISHER SEASON 2 (2019), created by Steve Lightfoot

[gallowsheart]

It stung a little every time she pulled away from him. He told himself he had no right to feel any which way about it and believed it, but that didn’t stop him from clocking it every single time. Under other circumstances, he might have been able to convince himself it was a good thing, that it tracked with what she was saying about bettering herself. Under other circumstances, maybe Feyre gaining some emotional distance from him would have been a good thing. What he’d wanted, even.

But if that were true, he didn’t understand why it felt like a sucking black hole had opened up inside of him. There was jealousy in there, yes. He acknowledged that. Of course he was jealous. He’d loved her all his life in some fashion or another, and a part of him desperately wanted to be the right guy for her, the good guy, the hero of the story. But this was Theo they were talking about. He wasn’t that guy, couldn't even play that guy in a movie, and he’d accepted that a long time ago.

So, no, jealousy alone didn’t account for it. He was afraid for her. He was as afraid as he’d been watching Aven's eyes that last day in Declan's apartment, afraid he’d allowed the person he loved to be hurt possibly beyond repair, afraid he was too late this time to dig her out of this hole. It was perhaps why it came out grumbling and frustrated as he kicked at a rock, sending it skittering along the sidewalk ahead of them. "You don't even sound like yourself."

Inexperienced. Yes, he knew. It was one of the reasons he'd tried to distance himself. Men like James and Theo had no business being anywhere near that level of innocence. It didn't stop him from frowning. He didn’t like the sound of that at all. Her lack of history wasn't a thing to be tolerated or dealt with. It wasn’t a burden. He drew a shuddering breath and tried to marshal his feelings again. He was making this too much about him.

He came to a stop in front of her, blocking her way, but he made no attempt to close the distance between them again. He didn’t want to know if she would flinch away from his touch. He just held her gaze, midnight blue eyes as serious as they ever got. "Look me in the eye, and say that again. If you mean it, I'll drop this. I'll tell Aven she's way off base, and she's reading too much into this based on her own past experiences. Are you happy, Feyre? Really happy, the way you deserve to be?"

There was more he wanted to ask. Is he good to you? Is this really what you want? But he recognized it was no longer his place, if it ever had been. She had him wrong. His real life had only ever been here, with her and with Aven. Everything else felt like it belonged to another person entirely. What happened overseas, the things he talked about and the things he didn’t, they all ran together into a jumble of places and people and occasional atrocities. They didn't matter, not the way those two did. He didn’t introduce her to any of his hookups because they weren't important. They never lasted, weren't meant to. But Aven and Feyre were always there, the realest parts of his life. She wasn’t the ghost in his story. She was the root, anchoring him solidly to the ground when he might have drifted away permanently on his own.

"I just want you to be happy."

@newtonskeeper

That was such a typically Feyre thing to say that Theo needed a moment to fight down the blend of exasperated fondness and frustration bordering on outright anger. He wasn't good at serious conversations. He should have sent Aven for this, except Aven had already tried to speak to her about it. Though she hadn't been specific, he gathered it hadn't gone well, or at least that it hadn't changed anything. It must have been dire indeed if his twin was asking him to fix a problem. Theo was a lot better at creating them.

Guilt writhed inside him, black and viscous, for having a hand in creating this one. When he'd pushed Feyre away, he'd convinced himself it was so that she could be happy, so that she could find someone better. Someone who wouldn't break her heart by coming onto her and then taking another girl home, someone who didn't leave her for weeks or months at a time and come back like the slate was clean and he hadn't left a snarl of feelings and problems in his wake. He had never once imagined she would find someone worse.

And it was, indeed, dire if even Theo could see it now. He'd always been able to see right through Feyre, and though he'd been overseas for several months while all this built up at home, he could tell at first glance that she wasn't happy. It had just taken a week or so for him to piece together why. One problematic male lead to another, James was a red flag. James was a basket full of red flags. If Theo had been here, if he'd been paying better attention, if he hadn't broken her heart so thoroughly, maybe this never would have happened. Maybe she wouldn't have felt compelled to replace him with a more dangerous model.

He'd been through this with Aven before, but that had been… rather simpler to untangle. Theo hadn't had to think about that one. He'd taken one look at the flinching, frightened look in her eyes and the bruises on her arms, knocked the shit out of her ex-fiancé, and brought her home. That was different though. For one thing, James would probably fucking murder him in a fight unless he had Emmett standing beside him (a possibility he had not ruled out). For another, Aven had wanted to leave. He wasn't entirely sure that Feyre did, and that hurt more than expected. She didn't know how special she was, how loved, how deserving of something better. Of course she didn't. Because Theo had done everything he could to crush that between them before it ever had a chance.

After several slow breaths, he wrangled his thoughts and emotions back into submission, reaching to gently tug at a long, dark lock of her hair. "This isn't about my happiness, doll. It's about yours. And despite the bullshit front you're putting off for everyone, I know you're not happy. You think I can't tell?"

[gallowsheart]

garrett hedlund

[gallowsheart]

@writtenindarkness, @piinkviscera

Theo wasn't a boyfriend so much as a friend with benefits, and he considered holidays a useful bellwether for how far feelings had progressed in any given situationship. If they could remain casual after things like birthdays or Christmas, then it was safe to stay until one or both of them got bored and moved on to other things. If not, it was time to politely show himself out.

It wasn't his first rodeo in a morgue, but it was far from comfortable. His work brought him to all kinds of places that were more dangerous or traumatizing, but this one was dredging up memories of his mother's death. He and Aven had been the ones to find her after a B&E gone wrong, the ones to provide police statements and make funeral arrangements, despite being the youngest of a large family. To say he still resented his older siblings for dumping that on them would have been an understatement.

He made an effort to pull himself from his dark thoughts as he headed inside, pausing to hold the door for the man on the motorcycle. Lovely machine. Both of them, in fact, but he wouldn't do Alya the disservice of flirting with someone else in front of her. Well, not unless that was an agreed upon game they were playing. He certainly didn't mind spicing things up with a third. His mind wasn't headed in that direction at all though, Theo's assumption being that he worked here. It was late, but Alya kept odd hours. It wasn't unthinkable that some of her colleagues did as well.

He returned a distracted, slightly quizzical smile, unable to interpret the look on his face. He eschewed the elevator to take the stairs down to her level, shoulders stiffening slightly when the familiar medicinal smell hit him. It was slightly different from the rest of the hospital, distinct and cloying at the back of his throat, and he swallowed as he knocked at the ajar door. "Dr. Balakin." It was meant to be flirty, but in hindsight--much later hindsight--Theo could see how it might be misread.

Death & The Wilds || @gallowsheart & @piinkviscera

He hadn't expected to be home for her birthday.

Honestly, most of the time the only birthdays he really planned around were his mom's, and his shared birthday with his twin. Even holidays he often spent away quite frequently. So it was a little bit of a surprise to realize he was going to be home for Alya's birthday.

He couldn't do anything the normal way - as River had distinctly pointed out about five different times during the afternoon - resulting in him managing to leave the house with a somewhat frozen raspberry custard in a little glass dish. He suspected that by the time she was able to get it home, it would be either the right temperature to eat, or safe to put in the fridge until she was ready.

With that ready and carefully wrapped up to keep it from being messed up while he drove, he bid his brother a good night before heading out. Not that he necessarily expected to stay out for the night, but his brother's shift at the bar would be starting soon enough so he wouldn't see him until morning anyway.

It was a slightly strange feeling to pull up to a morgue on a motorcycle with a pink treat and a small gift in the saddles, but he figured that if Alya had driven to work she'd need to drive home, too. It didn't stop him from pulling off his helmet and resting it in front him before he pulled out his phone to shoot her a message.

[ txt -> Alya ] Happy Birthday! [ txt -> Alya ] What time are you off?

A question he should've asked a while ago, probably, but he was reasonably sure he hadn't gotten it wrong. Brushing his hand into his hair to start to fix the helmet-hair issue, he paused briefly as he caught sight of someone else in the somewhat dark parking lot, giving him a curious look for the moment. Maybe he was waiting for someone, too?

... what did people who didn't work at morgues do at morgues?

... oh.

He set his jaw briefly, giving him a slightly sympathetic look. He wasn't about to interrupt the stranger for the time being if he was... well.

Most people went to a morgue to identify a body, right? He didn't look like a police officer or anything, at least.

[gallowsheart]

"It's alright, it's just a little blood." His eyes widened slightly at her grip. She was stronger than she looked. Faster too. Ordinarily, Jesse might have been putting those pieces together. He knew there were things in the world that were only supposed to exist in stories. He'd hunted some of them. Sometimes to keep them off their land, sometimes for food. Non-humans could fetch a high price, depending on what they were. Wereanimals were useless, of course, since they were contagious, and the undead were obviously… well, dead. They couldn't eat something that had been dead for decades. But this was Alya, his girlfriend, the Daphne and the Velma rolled into one. It hadn't even crossed his mind that she might be something else.

It was sort of crossing his mind now, but not in a way that would do him any good. His stuttering brain couldn't get past why is she so strong? long enough to even think of trying to free himself. And then… okay, this was weird, but he didn't actually hate it. He'd never really had cause to consider that before either, but being manhandled by a hot girl with a blood kink wasn't exactly a fate worse than death for someone like him. Jesse's whole life was steeped in blood and death. "Alya…" He swallowed, not sure what he was even planning to say, but it wasn't stop. Then her teeth sank into his neck, the sharp pain lancing through him and then dulling into something almost pleasurable. His eyelids fluttered, a shudder running through him, the arm around her waist tightening to hold her to him. He was barely conscious of the moan that escaped him, caught up in the sensations.

So his girlfriend was a vampire. There were worse things.

❛ Sorry about the blood in your mouth, I wish it was mine. ❜

@piinkviscera

Devil's Holler was dangerous even for experienced hikers, not least because his twin brothers had littered the woods with traps. It wasn't the first time he'd been hiking with Alya, and they'd hit some of the more obscure paths this time. Though he'd been on the lookout for traps, the point of them was that they weren't always visible. Jesse considered himself lucky to have triggered that one and emerge unscathed, but he couldn't figure out exactly how it had happened. He was fast, but Alya was faster, and they'd still ended up in a heap on the ground.

"Remind me to murder my brothers later…" he huffed, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. Maybe not entirely unscathed. He could taste the metallic tang of it on his tongue, and his elbow stung where he'd landed on it. He was in no hurry to get up though, his attention shifting to her, gaze running over her in search of injuries. "Are you hurt?"

[gallowsheart]

it's 2025 and i still think about jensen kissing misha's tears away

[gallowsheart]

"I just want you to be happy."

@newtonskeeper

That was such a typically Feyre thing to say that Theo needed a moment to fight down the blend of exasperated fondness and frustration bordering on outright anger. He wasn't good at serious conversations. He should have sent Aven for this, except Aven had already tried to speak to her about it. Though she hadn't been specific, he gathered it hadn't gone well, or at least that it hadn't changed anything. It must have been dire indeed if his twin was asking him to fix a problem. Theo was a lot better at creating them.

Guilt writhed inside him, black and viscous, for having a hand in creating this one. When he'd pushed Feyre away, he'd convinced himself it was so that she could be happy, so that she could find someone better. Someone who wouldn't break her heart by coming onto her and then taking another girl home, someone who didn't leave her for weeks or months at a time and come back like the slate was clean and he hadn't left a snarl of feelings and problems in his wake. He had never once imagined she would find someone worse.

And it was, indeed, dire if even Theo could see it now. He'd always been able to see right through Feyre, and though he'd been overseas for several months while all this built up at home, he could tell at first glance that she wasn't happy. It had just taken a week or so for him to piece together why. One problematic male lead to another, James was a red flag. James was a basket full of red flags. If Theo had been here, if he'd been paying better attention, if he hadn't broken her heart so thoroughly, maybe this never would have happened. Maybe she wouldn't have felt compelled to replace him with a more dangerous model.

He'd been through this with Aven before, but that had been… rather simpler to untangle. Theo hadn't had to think about that one. He'd taken one look at the flinching, frightened look in her eyes and the bruises on her arms, knocked the shit out of her ex-fiancé, and brought her home. That was different though. For one thing, James would probably fucking murder him in a fight unless he had Emmett standing beside him (a possibility he had not ruled out). For another, Aven had wanted to leave. He wasn't entirely sure that Feyre did, and that hurt more than expected. She didn't know how special she was, how loved, how deserving of something better. Of course she didn't. Because Theo had done everything he could to crush that between them before it ever had a chance.

After several slow breaths, he wrangled his thoughts and emotions back into submission, reaching to gently tug at a long, dark lock of her hair. "This isn't about my happiness, doll. It's about yours. And despite the bullshit front you're putting off for everyone, I know you're not happy. You think I can't tell?"

[gallowsheart]

A metal basket woven into a delicate heart shape has been sent your way! Attached to the front is a white and gold emblazoned card, reading “Lilah” in a light cursive font.

Inside the basket is an array of self-care items! Shower steamers in her favorite scent, a silk eye mask, and a handful of creams, balms and serums. Tucked in one corner, wrapped separately from the cosmetics is her favorite candy bar, as well!

Inside the card is a note that reads —

Dear Lilah,

Remember to take time to treat yourself! 🩷

Love, Alya

@piinkviscera

Lilah wasn't the Cavalleri who got gifts at the sorority house. If that was going to happen, it was always to one of her sisters, usually Annabelle. She wasn't even jealous, really. Despite being twins, she couldn't imagine herself for even a second in her sister's life (although she had, occasionally, used it for inspiration in her fanfiction).

She would have assumed the same about this one if not for her name plain as day in elegant script on the front. A blush instantly climbed her cheeks as she glanced around the room she shared with her sister, as though verifying that the sender hadn't lingered. (Of course they hadn't-- unless they were hiding under one of the beds, she could see when she walked in that it was empty, and there was no room in that closet for lurkers).

She hesitantly picked up the card, a pleased smile coming to her lips at the signature. Alya was so sweet! Lilah really was lucky to have a best friend like her. She poked around the items in the basket, an unfamiliar feeling welling in her: it was a feeling of being seen, in a way she rarely got in a family with eight other siblings. No, a text wouldn't do for this. This merited a gushing, hand-written thank you card and an assortment of Alya's favorite flowers in return.

[gallowsheart]

Phoebe Tonkin as HAYLEY MARSHALL

THE ORIGINALS S01E02 - House Of The Rising Sun