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rebouks · 9 months

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Brynn: You are much more silent than usual today-.. are you going to miss me?

Wyatt was going to miss Brynn a great deal, but telling her that seemed harder than it ought to be, so he said naught instead.

Brynn: You are not comfortable being happy?

Wyatt squinted, something Brynn had learnt he tended to do when she was on the right track.

Brynn: Maybe you should not fight yourself.

Wyatt: Maybe you only know I feel that way because you’re the same.

And as she tended to do when he was right, Brynn dodged Wyatt’s comment.

Brynn: Do you think I stay, if you asked me to?

Wyatt: I don’t think you want me to ask that.

Brynn: No, I don’t…

Wyatt: Do you want to stay though..?

Brynn: I not sure it’s a good idea to leave home-.. not for a man I spend only a few weeks with.

Wyatt’s brow creased, though he quickly rearranged his face; she had a point, whether he liked it or not.

Brynn: Does that hurt your feelings?

Wyatt: No…

Brynn hummed and tugged on Wyatt’s hand, forcing him to stop and face her. It was obvious he was lying. He wanted to know whether this was just a holiday fling to her, or something more, but every time he even thought about doing so it felt like someone had rammed cotton wool down his throat. He’d promised himself he’d be more honest, but it wasn��t going as well as he’d hoped…

Wyatt: What exactly would you be leaving behind? I doubt you’ve exactly made anything for yourself there-.. not with Gael’s arm to cling to.

Wyatt instantly regretted being so blunt as Brynn frowned slightly, a flash of sadness darting across her features.

Brynn: That is a cruel thing to say, no?

Wyatt: Maybe-.. though I’ve a feeling I’m right, so I’m not taking it back.

Brynn narrowed her eyes, he was right, of course. She had nothing of her own in San Myshuno. Everything she owned, down to the clothes on her back, had been paid for by Gael. She’d never thought about leaving before, she had everything she ever needed, technically-.. but spending time with someone who wasn’t afraid to interrogate her about such matters finally made her question her innermost protests, rather than burying them.

She didn’t like Gael, she didn’t like his friends or his apartment, she didn’t want him to propose, didn’t want to marry him, didn’t want to carry his children. It wasn’t ever supposed to be permanent; she wanted a life of her own…

Wyatt: Well?

Brynn: I not argue with you on my last day here.

Wyatt: We’re not arguing, are we?

Brynn: Exactly!

Wyatt ran his hand through his hair and sighed, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He needed more. He was desperate to know how she felt before she left, desperate to know how she’d gotten herself into this situation, whether she wanted out or not. He thought she did, but for once, he wasn’t sure of himself.

Wyatt: I just meant-…

He huffed as Brynn leapt on his back with a chuckle, that was the end of that then. He’d never realised until now how socially inept he was with women-.. no, intimacy; but Brynn didn’t seem to mind, maybe she could relate. He was willing to bet she knew what he was struggling with. It almost seemed as though she were goading him into being honest, like he craved to be.

Brynn: Let’s find somewhere nice-.. if you tell me what you meant, maybe I tell you a story.

He shook his head and snorted, amused; that was definitely what she was doing, wasn’t it?

Wyatt had done a lot of terrible things over the years. Amongst countless other felonies he’d taken more than a few lives - some with his bare hands - but no crime he’d committed had ever caused his heart to beat as erratically as it did now. Against his “better” judgement and despite his pounding chest, he’d held Brynn close and told her how he felt.

He told her how much he’d enjoyed spending time with her, how pleased he’d be if she stayed, and how curious he was about her situation back in San Myshuno. Brynn had softened upon hearing his words, appreciative of his honesty; and in return, she’d told him how she and Gael met…

Brynn hadn’t left Del Sol to begin with, choosing instead to remain employed by Varius, which had eventually been taken over by new management. Never embroiled in Ashton’s more nefarious business ventures, the casino and its franchise hadn’t suffered much, remaining completely operational as a result.

Gael was in town for family and work, hauled to the top floor by some of his rather more enthusiastic associates. Clearly uncomfortable, she’d taken him aside and entertained him in a different manner-.. she’d clocked him eyeing a handsome waiter surreptitiously, felt him recoil from her touch; he might’ve fooled his colleagues, but he hadn’t fooled her. Enjoying an easy night full of free drinks and cheesy jokes, she’d thought nothing of his proposition to attend an upcoming event with him the following weekend.

The event Gael had invited her to was a wedding – his brother’s wedding – and Brynn had suddenly found herself referred to as his girlfriend. She’d thought it quite funny at the time, what an odd man, paying an erotic dancer to pose as one’s partner. The money was good though, and it was much more enjoyable than working in some stuffy club, even one as fancy as Varius.

But as things do, one thing led to another and before Brynn could second guess herself, she’d agreed to move to San Myshuno and stay with Gael permanently. Genesis had seen her arse about Brynn’s newfound source of income, her friends Ace and Robert had moved away, Del Sol was smoggy and garish, held memories she’d rather forget; why wouldn’t she move back to San My? She’d have her own room in a spacious apartment, she wouldn’t have to work, Gael said he’d pay for her to finish school; it seemed like a good idea at the time, like she could have whatever she wanted.

Except she couldn’t. Gael was a controlling - albeit kind - man, terrified of being discovered by his peers. He told her where to go and when, what to wear, what to say, and how to act. He’d take her phone from her if she’d get distracted at one of his precious galas, force her to attend wellness retreats with his colleagues’ insipid girlfriends and wives whilst he and his friends smacked tiny balls with silly sticks, drag her on family vacations to hot countries where she’d get accosted by mosquitoes and prickly heat.

He’d bemoan her lack of enthusiasm when she wasn’t her usual self, but it’d been so many years that Brynn didn’t even know who she was anymore. He’d felt guilty then, promising she could pick their next destination; that it’d be just the two of them, no pretending.

Brynn had never imagined bumping into Wyatt again, but she’d often thought of him, wondering what he’d done after that fateful phone call. She’d almost felt proud of him, in a way-.. it wasn’t easy to turn against your upbringing like that, against your friends, against yourself. She’d given him the benefit of the doubt and he hadn’t taken it for granted, which was more than could be said for a lot of men she’d trusted in the past.

Having landed herself in hot water more times than she could count over the years, Brynn had learnt to be wary of her gut, but she couldn’t deny being drawn to Wyatt; she admired the change in him, despite the fact he seemed unaware of it himself. It was freeing to spend time with someone who didn’t expect her to act a certain way, someone who knew where she’d come from and what she’d been through, yet didn’t appear to judge her poorly for it. He’d done terrible things and so had she; it was nice, being on an even playing field for once.

Brynn had subsequently returned home more disheartened than ever, completely uninterested in her so-called life with Gael. She’d hoped Wyatt would call, hoped she’d get a taste of that freedom in her self-imposed cage, hoped something would magically change. But it hadn’t.

Wyatt: So, you’re not happy anymore?

Brynn: I am very happy here, with you-.. but that scares me.

Wyatt: Why?

Brynn: Because it means I have to confront the fact that I am not happy at home, and that is something I have never done before. I always find someone to take me in, but is always with conditions, I am never free-.. never happy.

Wyatt: Are you safe at least..?

Brynn: It is painfully boring, sharing a home with Gael, but he is not exactly aggressive.

Wyatt scowled; not exactly? That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, he ought to strangle-..

Brynn: I not want you to get involved, I think I would like to do something on my own for once.

Wyat: Okay…

Brynn: I put my foot down and leave, even if it means I have nothing. I not want to run to anyone else, including you.

Wyatt: That’s why you don’t want to stay?

Brynn nodded, it would’ve been easier to tell Gael to stuff it and stay here, but that was what she always did; fall into someone else’s hands. Being with Wyatt was different though, it made her want to choose him because she wanted to, because she could, not because she needed to. If that meant she had to throw everything away and strike out on her own first – even though she had no idea how to – then so be it.

Though he was glad to know the truth, Wyatt was less than thrilled with Brynn’s plan; but she craved true freedom, and after everything she’d endured – in part due to his own transgressions – he figured he owed her as much.

Wyatt: I won’t stop you then…

Brynn: This is why I love you-.. you help set me free in the end, like I to you.

Wyatt: You love me?

Brynn: You love me too, no?

Wyatt dipped his head in agreement. He wasn’t sure how it’d happened so quickly, but there wasn’t much point denying it any longer.

Brynn: Say it…

Wyatt: I love you too.

Brynn: Is not so hard, right?

Wyatt scoffed quietly and shook his head.

Wyatt: I don’t know-.. I’m sweating.

Brynn: [laughs] Ew-.. me too though.

Previous // Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #wyatt shaw #brynn franz #hnnnnng #lookit them.. telling the truth to each other n talking properly n shit #maybe they've been replaced by aliens 🤷‍♀️#there's so much to unpack here..#but i think the two most important things are that wyatt actually allowed some real gods honest emotion to come outta his mouth #for the first time in like forever..#and that even if we don't agree with brynn - past future or present - she should get the chance to decide her own fate for once #and he GETS it #;-;#this is why she cried on the mountain.. cos for the first time in forever she felt free #stood on top of the world like that she realised she's the captain.. n even if jumping off the ship is scary #maybe she'll find some land #u kno #maybe even a slightly reformed wyatt too ¯\(°_o)/¯#bwuhh #neway.. u asked for this essay so i hope u enjoyed it 😆

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prolix-yuy · 2 years

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Writers’ Iron Chef #11: Staying the Night

[PROMPT] “I’ll be here the whole night, okay?”

[TIME LIMIT] Optional 10 minutes prep time, 30 minutes writing time, optional, 10 minutes editing time

Pairing: Jack Russell, Werewolf by Night x F!Reader

Rating: M, allusions to sexual acts, descriptions of male and female (and monster!) bodies, allusions to monsterfucking but we cut to black (sorry babes I ran out of time).

Summary: "Has this ever worked before?" "Once."

Notes: Written for Writers’ Iron Chef Prompt 11.

In honor of the Spooky Season, and because I had a fun time watching Werewolf by Night, I'm bringing a new boy into the mix this time. I just want to write some fun werewolf shenanigans with Gael García Bernal. Don't worry Pedro, you're always first in my heart.

Did I walk right up to the monsterfucking door and knock but then run out of time to finish the prompt? Yes, yes I did. But I had a lot of fun doing the walking. Enjoy!

The story concludes in Mistake.

His eyes are human, surprisingly. Popular media had you convinced he’d be something much less than a man, something hungry and lupine. There are aspects - the claws, the fangs, the wiry hair covering his body. But his eyes are the same that stared down at you when he pleaded for you to go.

“The wolf doesn’t care who you are,” he said, hands tight around your shoulders. “He eats and he runs and anything that gets in his way is fair game. This is not something you can reason with.”

Jack soothed his bruising grip with gentler strokes, and you couldn’t dismiss the pain on his face as an overreaction. You knew what you were asking.

“What can he remember, then? If not faces and names, how can I communicate with him? He can’t just be a monster, thinking and unfeeling, Jack, we both know that.” The way his face fell at the word that haunts him - monster, through no fault of his own - made you cup his face in your hands. Your eyes traced the lines and smudges of his ancestral markings, fingers stroking along his jaw.

“If he’s a wolf, he should behave like one. And most great beasts hunt by smell,” you offered. Jack’s face lightened with clarity, eyes flitting over your shoulder as he contemplated this bit of information.

“If I scent you, he might…recognize you,” he concluded, a smile gracing your face. “It’s still too dangerous,” Jack insisted, but you were already shrugging off your jacket and baring your pulse points.

“One day this will happen out of your control, and I would like to be prepared in whatever way I can,” you said, Jack’s eyes softening with a mix of understanding and despair. “Please, Jack. It can’t hurt to try.”

Jack had pressed his face into your neck before, inhaling deeply after your first kiss. He told you later, wrapped in blankets and sated, that your scent speaks more words than your mouth ever can. You could be encased in stone in a crowd of thousands and it would still bring him straight to you. It’s unique, ever-evolving, and the first thing he fell in love with.

This was something different. There was a need in the way Jack gripped your wrists, pressing his pert nose to your pulse and inhaling deeply. It spiked arousal in your hips, the intimacy of his mouthing at your delicate skin.

“It still may not be enough. You'll have to look him in the eye, show him you know him, you know me,” he growled, low and quiet, as your heartbeat hammered in your chest. His nose trailed up your arm, lips leaving searing kisses along your skin. By the time he was nosing behind your ear you had pressed flush to him, arm winding around his waist and fisting into his jacket. Puffs of breath warm your skin, each deep inhale followed by a rattling exhale. When his tongue laved a wet path along your neck your knees almost gave out.

“Lover, your scent is strongest here,” he whispered, one lithe hand cupping your sex. The electric slide of his palm pulled a whine from your mouth, a pleading yes, that dropped you on your back with Jack’s face between your legs. As he scented and mouthed at the cradle of your arousal, you thought his fervor might be reminiscent of the wolf.

The lovemaking that followed was slow, careful, sensual and deep, like every time Jack takes you apart. He likes it that way, wants the wolf to be far from your soft body. Sometimes, you wish he would allow a small part of him in.

When the moon fills next, you watch him pace the locked room, eyes sharp and fearful.

“This is not a good idea. You should leave. This won’t work, please leave,” he pleads, even though the lengths of chain manacling his wrists and neck keep him several paces from you. You steel your jaw, resolute.

“I’ll be here the whole night, okay?”

Jack shakes his head, rolling his shoulders with a hiss as the transformation begins.

“The whole time. You aren’t shouldering this alone anymore.”

Pain wracks his face, body folding to kneel on the ground. His breath comes out in short bursts, panting against the change overcoming him.

“I love you, Jack Russell, and I will love the beast you harbor.”

The howl that rips from Jack’s throat raises goosebumps all over. Watching in morbid fascination, Jack’s lean body snaps and cracks as hands become claws, his chest barrels out and hair blankets his body. His face, however, remains. You worried that he would be unrecognizable, but once the transformation ends he truly is a wolf-man. The rattle of the chains snap you back to your predicament.

“Jack, it’s me,” you say, loud and clear, as the wolf watches you with interest. He stalks to the end of his lead with a snap, snarling and spitting as you circle him. “Breathe, Jack. You said you’d know my scent anywhere. Breathe. Know I’m here.”

The wolf seems to pay you some mind, following your path while huffing and watching you. After circling the room once you take a step closer. The wolf doesn’t move, only watches your slow approach.

“Jack, I don’t want to rush it, but it might have worked,” you say, still two good paces away but closer than you ever thought you would get. Relief bleeds into your bones. This could work.

Metal shrieks as the wolf yanks hard against his restraints, and with molasses-slow observation you witness the chain failing, zipping through the manacles and collar as the wolf pulls free. Your reflexes catch up, spinning you around and into a dead sprint, but you’re against a creature with supernatural abilities. He’s on you before you can get three paces.

The slam of your back against the floor knocks the wind out of you, tears springing to your eyes.

“Jack, please,” you gasp, eyes shut and body shaking underneath the weight of the wolf’s bulk. When jaws don’t snap around your skull you hazard a look.

His eyes are human, not yellow or red as rubies, raking over your face. The press of his claws against your chest keeps you beneath him, hips forcing your legs apart. You lie still, waiting for some sign that he knows who you are.

A hot breath, a dip of his head to stroke his nose across your cheek. You almost start crying again, this time in relief.

“Oh Jack, Jack you’re there,” you gasp, hands coming up to hold the wolf’s face so gently. He nuzzles into your touch, coarse hair slipping through your fingers. You bask in it for a moment longer, waiting for him to release you.

When you meet the wolf’s eyes again you see something you didn’t expect, that never crossed Jack’s mind to anticipate.

The wolf has your scent, laced through with arousal and carnality. Blood rushes to your face when his hips grind into yours, a hard length pressing against your apex. He’s larger than Jack, almost impossibly so, hefty and throbbing against you. The claw on your chest moves to cover your breast, squeezing gentler than you thought possible for something so menacing.

“Oh…oh shit,” you whisper, the wolf’s snarl almost becoming a smirk.

You were his mate after all. And you would be there all night.

Join my Taglist!

#writers' iron chef #lissie's iron chef #iron chef 11 #werewolf by night fanfiction #jack russell x reader #jack russell x f!reader #jack russell x you

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atopvisenyashill · 2 months

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What do you think the age ranges are in HotD? It is very obvious Aemma wasn't eleven when she married or fifteen when she had Rhaenyra. There is no second Great Council and Aemma is visibly pregnant with Rhaenyra so I putting her at 20 and Viserys at 25 making them 35 and 40 in the first episode. I think Daemon is around 3Oish. Alicent is 16/17 to Rhaenyra 14/15.

Alright putting my ages on top and then i’ll kinda ramble a bit haha-

Viserys - like 24ish in flashback, just shy of 40 in the first episode

Aemma - like 19 in flashback, somewhere around 33-34 in the first episode

Daemon - like 25-27 in the first episode

Rhaenyra - lower end of 15

Alicent - lower end of 14

Okay so my read on Aemma and Viserys in that flashback and also their relationship is still that they married really young - i got the impression that they’ve been partners for a very long time, long enough that Aemma feels comfortable putting her foot down with him which still means imo that Aemma got married a bit young (also as kingcunny said a few days ago, i got the feeling that part of why Laena freaks him out but Alicent doesn’t is because all he sees when he looks at Laena is his guilt over killing Aemma, which means they were young when they married too to me). I landed somewhere on her being sixteen and him being like 21-22 ish when they marry, so she’s like 19 in the flashback, and he’s like 25ish, so roughly around the same age as you clocked too. Which then makes him like 40ish when he marries Alicent and like….58ish when he dies?

With Daemon, I kept getting the impression he was like…..still considered a young hot shot but also old enough that his behavior is getting a bit troubling bc it’s not straightening out. And tbh…..Idk if it was just because Matt Smith reads a bit young in general to me but I guess I got the impression that the age difference between him and Viserys was more severe, like young enough that he has more of a “big sister” relationship with Aemma than a “we are both lil rascals” thing they had in book canon (or at least that’s MY read of all of them in book canon, is that up until Rhaenys’ marriage, Gael, Rhaenys, Aemma, Daemon, & Viserys were all kinda running wild in the Keep, and probably Rhaenys was excitedly telling Aemma and Gael that they can visit whenever they want, but don’t miss her too much because she’ll have to move back to the Red Keep after she has a son so she and Aemon can train her son to be king, obviously). Anyways, I clocked him as like 26ish, so quite a bit younger than you. That makes him like almost 30 when he marries Laena, and then like 45-46 when the Dance kicks off. Which, part of why I like him being a bit younger is because he’s around the same age as Viserys is when Viserys started getting really obviously sick (we see his hand fucked up by the time he’s 40, and he’s struggling to get around already by 42-43 when Helaena is about to be born), and I like to think this adds to his general erraticness during the last episode - not just that Viserys is dead, Viserys chose Rhaenyra over him, but now he’s the age Viserys is when he started to decline and he’s got jack shit to show for it, not even Viserys’ love.

For the girls I guess I just…..from the way Alicent dresses, it made me feel she’s only recently ~flowered~ whereas Rhaenyra has been A Maiden for a bit longer. Rhaenyra feels much more aware of her body and beauty, wearing clothes that are cut closer and in a more flattering way (or well, they’re trying haha, some of those cuts were bad) whereas Alicent especially in that introduction scene and her awkwardness at the tourney, made me feel like she’s very new to puberty. Like, Rhaenyra went through her awkward phase, she’s fine, it’s why she thinks so often about how much she doesn’t want to marry, whereas Alicent kinda shot up recently and overnight, and it’s made her more awkward as a result.

#asks #riana one

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bucknastysbabe · 2 years

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Ser Criston Cole HC’s

So the uptight white knight himself. Criston Cole. I have thoughts. *rubs hands together* Let’s get into it.

Tags: SFW, Groomy behavior, Targaryen!reader, possessive behaviors, obsession, murder, attempted assault (not by Criston), religious fanaticism, MENTAL ILLNESS

Setting the scene- Aight let’s say the reader is a Targaryen. Alysanne and Jaehaerys last daughter, Gael almost had a child. In canon, she was seduced by a bard and impregnated. She committed suicide in 99AC. So in my version the child survived, Gael did not and the babe would be 2 years younger than Rhaenyra. Aemma and Viserys adopted her, kept it hush-hush.

She’s a sweet thing, overtly pious, definitely the crazy half of the Targ coin later on. The opposite of the willful and hot-headed Rhaenyra. Still Nyra drags her along into escapades. Even asks for her surrogate sister’s approval of picking Ser Criston as a Knight of the Kingsguard.

Rhaenyra and Criston still have their folly and she dumps him. Her sister watches from a distance, praying for the two to figure everything out. Alicent decides to swear Criston to the younger sister, thinking the other one’s piousness will make him feel better and secure. And at first he’s annoyed. He sees Rhaenyra in the other ones looks but nothing else— he’s trying to move on dammit!

Rhaenyra is hip to hip with Ser Harwin now, even if married. Criston is stewing in jealousy, even snapping at the poor younger sister. His chest twisted when she sniffled and asked to go to the sept. She stayed in her quarters for the rest of the day, then called Criston in before dinner.

She had made a fine needlepoint piece displaying the imagine of the warrior— but they bore the garb of his station. On that day Criston decided to leave his anger behind and treat his sworn princess how she should be treated. The girl is DELIGHTED. Even makes the Knight sit through her readings and ramblings about the Seven, he actually pays attention. The big man is often spotted next to the dainty Targaryen in the Godswood, being read to.

She turns 17 and Criston is having a Crisis. He knows they’re going to marry her off and scares off any lordling sniffing around the keep. The dreamy princess is hardly aware, just enjoys his company. She holds his hand once and asks him to pray with her. Criston Cole’s broken heart felt mended for a change. He would serve any man’s head on a platter for his princess.

Walking from the Great Sept, they get separated. The knight is frantic, shoving people aside and threatening lives. He chokes out a gold cloak until they spill of a raucous down a nearby alley. Criston sprints and finds his dear girl being stripped and groped by vagrants. His heart cracks and vision goes red at the sound of her tears and sobbing prayers.

The men are dead. Cut into pieces. One’s face is gone. The princess is alright though— just shaken and bruised. Criston holds her as she cries. He murmurs, “I can’t let you out of my sight, precious, I don’t know what I would do.” She pets his hair and whispers, “I won’t leave your sight anymore. The Father blessed you with me, my very own version of the Warrior.” She gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, if tears mixed they didn’t make a comment.

Criston stands watch inside her quarters now. He likes to see her face smoothed in sleep. He will soothe her when she has nightmares and sit next to his princess in a sturdy chair, holding her delicate hand as she prays. Sleepily she sighs, “I wish vows weren’t so serious.” Criston blinks— he can’t do this again. But he could.

His docile dragon knows of his past, prayed for him, didn’t even judge. Criston rasps, “I’d give anything to steal you away.” She replies, “Just keep the unholy lords away from me and I’ll have you forever. The maiden and the warrior come again, we can’t ruin that.” The knight nodded along, sucking in every word. He slept next to her in his small clothes that night, holding her body chastely. He would bury himself in her body and live there if he could.

Every man that makes intentions to marry the second daughter of Viserys either runs off screaming or ends up dead in peculiar ways. Criston’s princess gave him a kiss or something more each time he committed an act to protect their divine love.

Rhaenyra is getting suspicious. Harwin even reports that her surrogate sister sits and watches Criston when he trains the boys. They’re practically inseparable, and when they are it’s a pain in the ass. He’s violent and short-tempered, her quiet and melancholy.

Rhaenyra goes to Viserys and points this out. Alicent, eager to rid of another Black and get the white knight back on task proposes the idea of letting the Princess become a Septa. Viserys shrugs and thinks it would be good for her since she can’t seem to get betrothed. So in the dark of the night she’s taken to Oldtown, crying and scratching. Three kingsguard and two gold cloaks hold back Cole.

They both cry for eachother. Criston grows even more bitter at Rhaenyra for taking his maiden away. The pious princess walks into the sea, praying to be reunited with her Warrior. Criston’s soul turns to stone when the raven arrives. He swears to take down the dragon cunt himself. He’s too broken to realize Alicent was a part of it. The knight never is the same again.

#criston x reader #criston cole #hotd fanfic #Targaryen Princess!reader #toxic love #obsession #codependency #angst #sad ending

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yojeongin · 1 year

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DON’T BLAME THE LOVECATS — 32: ANTOLOGIA

→neighbor!jaemin x neighbor f!reader

genre: social media au, neighbors au, fluff, angst, enemies to friends to lovers, humor

wc: 2.4k

m.list | previous | next

an: I don't think you guys would like to know that this story is less than a week away from ending...

While the beginning of spring hadn’t flourished the love you and Jaemin had begun and rather a new one between you and Jungwoo (not actually); at least Jaemin wanted to express what he’s been holding back all this time.

He felt glad enough that the letters he had been slipping under your door and the brownies weren’t left there like a week ago (or that Ami had taken the liberty of taking whatever he left you). He was aware it wasn’t out of malice and rather your wishes but he won’t deny it hurt at the beginning.

Though heartbroken over what he sees online between you and the football player, Jaemin was glad that at least some progress was being made between you two. In the past he wouldn’t admit audibly that he loved your flan but throughout the drought, he was the first one to dig into the dish.

Cliche enough, compared to the rest he was the one to make the most pleased noises when the creamy texture of the curd and caramel fell upon his tongue. He missed it more than anyone could imagine. His selfish tendencies had tried to take over and hog the dessert but he couldn’t say no to his present friends. They all missed your labor of love, glad that you put away any resentment even if just for a tiny bit so they could eat their favorite food ever since meeting you.

Sadly enough, they all had gotten so carried away while eating that they forgot to save a slice for the two cooks who yearned for your recipe. It’s fine, you saw their crying and though you hadn’t seen Jaemin or Mark mention the flan, you knew what those two were talking about. For that reason you had gotten more ingredients while taking Sunwoo around the city on his free weekend. Now those two will get a flan of their own. At least so they know there’s no bad blood between you and his friends.

Almost like children of divorced parents or a girlfriend who’s partner’s kid got attached to.

Nevertheless, your demeanor with Jaemin and his cowardice had made Amilah have enough of whatever you two were playing. She understood he had hurt you with the way he acted but now Jungwoo was also in the mix and he didn’t deserve to ache.

In this instant, she took the opportunity that Gael took a nap to head up to your floor and talk with Jaemin like he had told Sunwoo. It worked since you yourself weren’t in your apartment, everyone was getting their dishes for the dinner get-together at Hyuck and Jeno’s apartment to receive Sunwoo who was back after leaving for his new FC.

Panting and huffing, Amilah went up those two flights of stairs. Sure, not a lot but she got the apartment on the first floor for a reason. Regardless, her knuckles fell upon the wooden door three times until Mark opened with a childish smile on his face.

“Here to pull Jaemin’s hair?” He giggles, opening the door fully for her. Ami rolled her eyes, shooting him a smile before walking towards Jaemin who had been doing the dishes after losing a game of paper-rock-scissors (Jaemin always picks rock).

“Hey…” Jaemin says, scared. “So… When are you two gonna talk?” Straight to the point, leaning against the wet counter, snickering when her forearm gained that moisture.

Jaemin sighs at her words, shutting off the sink water and turning to her with a side frown. “Believe me, that’s all I want but she won’t talk to me and… I don’t want to force her. What if she hates me more than she does already?”

Ami couldn’t deny that would be something she’d think too if it wasn’t for all your tweets in private that let her know semi-otherwise. “Well, we did make some progress, though. She dropped off some flan.” The image of you spending hours making the dessert and dropping it off in your favorite plate made a smile slip onto his face. His perfect pearly whites were not able to be hidden.

She found it sweet, the tenderness fighting with her anger towards him. “Aww. you missed it, huh?” She giggles pinching both his cheeks, causing him to smile wider even with the pain. At least he was able to let out a strangled: “Yeah.”

Letting go of his face, Amilah looks at the plate Jaemin had been washing. It was the one you dropped the flan in but it also turned out to be hers. “That’s my plate! That sneaky little weasel!” Ami gasps while pointing at the plate. No wonder she couldn’t find it for a good year, you had taken it!

“Well…” Jaemin nervously laughs, showing her an awkward smile. Mark on the other hand looked at the scene while laughing silently. Amilah clicks her tongue, giving up on the ordeal for now. “I’ll talk to her, okay? I need you guys to at least have closure. Seeing her crying about you not saying anything is a little… tiring.”

Jaemin furrows his eyebrows, turning to her fully. “Crying?” He was worried, he knew you were upset but the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. “You know what I mean.” Amilah squeezes his shoulder. Yes, you cried but he didn’t need to know that.

“Are you sure?” “Yeah.”

He didn’t believe her. Intense stare through slotted eyes, the two were comically defensive now.

“Amilah… she’s been crying?” “Doesn’t matter, just give me my plate!”

She tries to deflect. “But that’s her favorite dish.” He pouts hoping it’ll hit her sympathy but she only knits her eyebrows letting him know it won’t work.

“It’s mine.” “Don’t you want me to win her back?” “Not with my plate!” “But, but—“

Jaemin holds the wet dish to his chest, starting to walk back to get away from her. Amilah places her hands on her hips like an angry mom whose kid won’t listen. “Jaemin…” But it doesn’t help because he walks to Mark hiding behind him and leaving the two to bicker.

While things were going comically in the Na-Lee household, you and Sunwoo were near the apartment complex from the supermarket. Throughout the entirety of his stay with you this weekend, the same melody and same song had been haunting him.

Not one minute when you turned your music on that, that nostalgic melody didn’t torment his ears. Yes, it was beautiful but hearing it night and day through your walls and in the car was driving him insane. In addition he knew why you kept listening to it and it had to do with the parent of your cat’s girlfriend.

“This makes you think about him, doesn’t it?” Sunwoo finally musters the will to ask. “You’ve been listening to it since I got here. Have you considered giving him a chance to talk?”

You hoped listening to every song you two liked would help you disassociate and forget about it. That maybe if you created a reality different from what was truly going on, you could distract yourself but that didn’t seem to be the case.

This song reminded you so much of Jaemin and you couldn’t help it. By now you were just being stubborn but he also wasn’t helping you understand what truly happened. All he would write in his letters was how sorry he was and that he would be there for you but never an explanation. You figured he wanted to do it in person but it’s been too long for that, why won’t he just cave?

“I made flan as a conversation starter but after knocking I chickened out and ran back inside. I don’t know, felt a little childish. I guess it’s not that deep anymore since Mark, Karina, and even Ami have told me everything they know but…” You scratch your temple, shrugging. “But it did hurt that he just pulled away out of the blue so it doesn’t hurt to make him ache a lil’ does it?”

Sunwoo smiled widely, shaking his head while you two laughed. Your stubbornness mixed with your will to play around a little was a bit comedic to him. “At least translate it to me. I know ‘amor’ that means love, right?” You nod, throwing him one last glance before parking in your parking space. One you and Jaemin often fought over for years but has left open for you since the beginning of the year.

“Because of you I learned how to love.” Warmth creeped onto your face, embarrassment and giddiness getting the best of you.

Sunwoo wanted to tease you for this vulnerable moment but he opted to just comfort you. “If it makes you feel better I think he’s been hurting a lot lately because of Jungwoo.” His arms were beginning to ache now, gravity making sure the bag straps do their worst on him on the way up the two flights of stairs.

“I figured.” You smile through your own pain from the bags. “Speaking of Snoopy, I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m leading him on…” Biting your lower lip in worry, Sunwoo turns to you with a slight pout. How he felt for both his friends.

“Believe, he’s aware you care for him as a friend.” It’s the best he could do. Now it was your turn to give him an apologetic smile. One that was easily swiped away when finally arriving to your floor. An obstacle of flowers laid across every square inch giving you two no passage towards your door.

Both of you stood in shock, the only question in your heads being: What the fuck? There were only two apartments on your floor. One wasn’t vacant and the other two were yours and Jaemin’s. If they were for him, they surely would’ve been cleared by now, right?

So that leaves it, they were obviously for you and the only two who’ve given you flowers have been Sunwoo and Jaemin. The former should be your target for now.

“Did you do this?!” Your voice pitched, struggling to lean down and move the first vase. One step closer to your door. “How? I’ve been with you all day.” He returns in that same confused voice, helping you clear the way to the vacant doors.

The latter was your only option now. You felt queasy and nervous, like you had to run to the restroom now if what your mind was telling you was true. “Do you think?…” You point to Jaemin’s door, biting your thumb nail and then flesh. Sunwoo did nothing more than shrug, pressing his lips together with a quizzical look.

Asking won’t hurt then…

Reaching the door of the Na-Lee’s household, the soft sound had stopped Amilah from ripping the dish out of Jaemin’s grasp, one that he held dear for life's sake.

Mark was closest to the door, taking the role to open it without even checking the peephole. “What’s up,” He cheerfully opens the door, forgetting to lean against the doorframe when seeing the scene before his eyes.

“Woah damn, that’s a lot of flowers.” He awkwardly laughs, door left ajar and now the two inside could see what he gawked at.

“Do you know if Jaemin did this?” There was hope in your voice. The way you tried fighting off your smile made Mark’s heart swell in despondency knowing what his answer would entail. You really liked Jaemin and seeing you hurt because of him was disappointing.

Mark tries to stall, sighing but with an apologetic smile that won’t leave his face. “I’m sorry… He’s been here all day.” He pouts, tucking his hands in his pockets. Surely enough your smile slowly faded, trying your best to avoid his gaze.

“Did anyone knock then?” But he shakes his head. You in contradiction nod, defeat taking over you now.

While you ran out of ideas, Sunwoo had thought of someone while you were talking with Mark. There was only one way to find out and that was by calling him.

So while you were distracted with your neighbor who tried making small talk to relieve some of that sadness, a loud groggy voice took all of your attention.

“It's a little early to call, isn't it? Missed me?” Jungwoo jokes with Sunwoo, the younger rolling his eyes but going back to business. “Here.” He ignores the older male, passing you the phone.

You again felt that queasy feeling but this time it wasn’t out of hope, it was freight. Freight over how this would take your friendship with Jungwoo.

Porting worry on your face didn’t impede him from smiling widely when seeing you. In fact he was glowing after doing so and that only made you feel guilty.

“Hey!” “Hey, Snoopy…”

The difference in your tones was so painful to note.

“By any chance did you do this?” Flipping the camera, Jungwoo chuckles seeing the sea of petals, all different colors and types. Fully unaware of what type of flowers you liked.

But Jaemin knew and the poor boy was listening in.

“Like them? Wanted it to be a surprise. I asked Eric to put in the order for me.”

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, your leg couldn’t help jitter at the situation. “Very pretty but you really Didn’t have to.” He could tell this was overwhelming for you but he hoped you still appreciated this action.

Mark felt the tension and by now all he could do was lift his hand as a sign of goodbye before shutting the door behind him and leaning against it to look at his roommate’s saddened look.

The three inside looked at each other with no words threatening to leave. They all knew this had made Jaemin’s heart even more sensitive and they didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Not now at least that the younger of the three excused himself with the wet plate clutched tightly against his chest on his way to the bedroom.

And by now that you and Sunwoo had hung up on Jungwoo and carefully took in the flower arrangements inside your apartment, that same song you had been listening to all weekend was plaguing the walls of Jaemin’s room. Loud enough for you and Sunwoo to hear.

‘But you forgot one last instruction because I don’t know how to live without your love yet.’

There goes your progress.

taglist: @bbymatz @dandelionxgal @w3bqrl @liljeongseong @n0hyuck @minjiville @xxxx-23nct @liliansun @ihrtnyu @kpopwh0r3 @buubbbbly @luvenshiti @igotkpoops @xuimhao @enhapocketz @wonnou @channnaa

let me know if you’d like to join the taglist!

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gledesma · 3 months

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Location: Gael's place Time: Late afternoon (2 days after rdv) Who: @alexxcarrasco

He knew he would regret it and as expected, he was. He had almost the whole Carrasco family blocked or been blocked by them, except for Emilio and Amelia. Honestly, he was mad at himself for losing control with Alex (like always) and hurting Oscar. As for Luis, he could go fuck himself for all he cared and Max... he didn't care if he understood his friend being mad, cause that wouldn't excuse his threat. Had he been an asshole, he would've just sent screenshot of Max and Luis' threatening him to Emilio. Or just anyone from the job really.

Nope, instead, he gone to the hotel to cool down and just been miserable all night. Next day, he looked like shit, but had gone to work telling people je had a problem with his phone hence why he hadn't responded.

And here he was, two days later, unpacking his grocery when a loud banging at his door had made him jump out of his skin. Gael looked at the doorbell and sighed. He knew she'd stay there if he didn't do anything. So he went to open the door, but blocking the entrance. "Alex, I'm not in the mood. So please, leave me alone. The other day... that was a mistake and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I had to deal with your brothers, Max... I'm just... I'm exhausted." He sounded like it too.

#{{with.alexxcarrasco2 #alex carrasco

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rainymoodlet · 1 year

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🌸 TAG YOU’RE IT! Name your Top 5 OTP created by your fellow simmers. Spread the love and happy simming! 🌸

oh my god oh my lord oh my good jesus you asked the WRONG PERSON LET'S GO

ahem hem hem hem hemm hemhem

these are not in numerical order i lose my mind abt these ships on the daily

mr. and mrs. drake from @cinamun's amazing "things fall apart" series (we remember the "/indya" tag days ok!!) the love i have for miss indya williams will never die and i swear i feel like i know her like she's a real person at this point, but i have never been more spellbound by a character's growth and development than the kind of writing i see in darren drake okay. these two have been through it, have talked and not talked, have loved and fought, and have gone through hell to be together. never have i wanted two lil pixel people to be happy more than i want them to have a good life with their babies. if that's not love, i don't know what is. (plus the way they abuse that wickedwhims i mean cmon)

jet lem-43 and kana lothario from @gothoffspring's lem-43 legacy! their courtship was so Soft, it literally makes my teeth rot and my heart ache. every touch is so gentle and full of love, they make poses seem as though they were made for these two. i am absolutely gnawing at the walls to see their babies because i know those lil bundles of pixel chub will be precious

@hauntedtrait's mortimer and bella goth are genuinely some of my favorite iterations of my favorite couple, and not just because fangs is my soulmate ok. they're able to add a prose and a warmth to the love between these two that maintains their sensuality while really building a believable foundation of the two's bond, and i'm a big sucker for a devoted morty and a beautiful and kind and mysterious bella ;u;

okay we all know that i'm livin' it up with my husband randy in his motel, and we are of course the top couple here-- pff, if you didn't think i wouldn't be in here losing my mind over the future mr and mrs. finch from @rebouks's incredible epic "somnium", then you don't know me. after my life experiences, i love to see a couple stay strong through hardship: to see them fight and struggle to communicate, and to see them overcome the things that challenge them to come together stronger and with more understanding of one another. courtney is one of the best female characters i have read on simblr in a long time, and it's only fitting that she's earned the love, trust, and protection of one of my favorite good boys <3

and you know, it's a shame i didn't know about them before recently, but @citylighten's sal and eve have a dialogue between them that is honestly so refreshing and so real that i find myself wanting to fcking hang out with them irl. seeing the ways they've grown together, seeing the ways that eve has brought out the softer side of sal and the ways in which sal has boosted eve's confidence in herself, outside of his love for her, for her sake... i just, how could you not love a couple that is so fundamentally invested in their relationship like i am just. besotted.

and personally, the sexual energy between leah morfang and viktor in @aniraklova's amazing universes transcends their outfits and all aesthetics. i just love seein' them together, i really do.

this isn't even all of them i mean good lord. @goodnightlittlewing's henry and bonnie were so adorable that i wanted to travel all over the sim world with them, and @elmleif's cillian and saoirse make me smile every time i see them. hell, i'm almost angry i can't think of all the couples i absolutely adore i'm gonna edit this so much dkfhsdk

oh my god. the ogs. the originals. you know my top otp of ALL TIME.

gael mcmahon and ME his baby assy @buglaur the true otp

#;ask #thank you so much for asking honey omg ;o;#i saw your cheeky lil mention of julien btw heheheheeee ;)

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howdy-cowpoke · 6 months

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TIMING: Early December LOCATION: Monty��s Farmhouse PARTIES: Monty & Gael SUMMARY: Considering what is going to be their last hangout for a while, Gael goes over to Monty’s where he can get everything off his chest and erase any secrets he might’ve been keeping from him, intentional or otherwise. CONTENT WARNINGS: none.

—

Even after all this time, all these months, and everything that had happened between the first interaction and now, Gael still felt bittersweet every time he pulled up in the dusty driveway of the dairy farm in his little ice-blue convertible. The road was dark, the air chilled and the sky overcast as it tended to be in the colder months as he removed himself from the car, his breath from a heightened body temperature puffing out as his brown eyes looking almost wistfully up at the building. It was so familiar, yet he always felt like he wasn’t quite as welcome as Monty had emphasized. That was far from his first trip out there - indeed, he tried to visit at least once a month just to catch up and hang out with the cowboy - but melancholy– no, it was sorrow.

Sorrow hung onto his thinned frame; he never quite recovered his physique from his stint out in the woods, not to mention he wasn’t really hiking, working out, going anywhere or doing anything. And after the most recent set of full moons, the final driving force that cemented the idea in his mind that he wasn’t welcome anywhere anymore, Gael looked up at the cozy house for what seemed like it would be the last time for a long time. The weight of leaving still felt somewhat unreal and more than once he reconsidered. He had friends there, even if he felt like he’d failed all of them. He had people that he liked and that liked him. He had semblances of a pack, with Alan and Alex more than willing to help. He knew he had a unique friendship in Felix and their similarities with shifting. There were the college-aged kids that he’d gotten to know, who made him laugh and all had aspirations, dreams, talents. And yet, here he was, reaching the front door as his breath danced in front of him, reaffirming to Monty, arguably his oldest and closest friend in Wicked’s Rest, that he was leaving because of his inability to tackle the problems that suddenly found themselves staring him in the face. Tentatively, with a shuddering exhale though one couldn’t have been sure if it was from the cold air or the emotions that tugged on his lungs, Gael rang the doorbell.

—

It seemed that no matter what Monty did or said to try and convince his friend that he was wanted and seen, the man was determined to pull back and figure things out his own way. It wasn’t wrong, and Monty couldn’t fault him for wanting to disengage, considering that was all he’d done for decades. Still, he was sad to know that his friend would be going away for a while, but tried not to let that show when they were together. No reason to make it any harder than it surely already was. Gael had to do what he had to do, and it would be wrong of Monty to not support his friend in his decisions to better himself.

So as he opened the front door, knowing who waited on the other side, he wore a warm smile. Mirabel, Señor, and their mother all lifted their heads from where they were napping, the two young cats jumping down from the couch to pad curiously over to the front door. Monty ushered Gael inside, glancing down at the felines as they recognized their real owner, meowing and rubbing up against his legs.

With the door safely shut, Monty permitted himself the melancholy that came with knowing this would likely be their final interaction for a while, and before Gael could become distracted by the cats (because who wouldn’t), he pulled his friend into a tight hug. It was an action that had once made him desperately uncomfortable, but over the months of knowing Gael, had instead become a source of genuine comfort. His friend felt smaller in his arms now than he ever had, and it only inspired the cowboy to worry about him more than he already was. In spite of this, he kept the smile on as he pulled back again, leaving one hand on the professor’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said to the other in Spanish, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Is, ah, there anything that I can get for you?”

—

He knew the cowboy was going to have that same gentle, warm smile on his face that he did every time Gael showed up so the werewolf reciprocated; it was tired and made the hollow quality of his cheeks more noticeable but it wasn’t by any means empty. On the contrary; regardless of how he felt, regardless of what was weighing on his mind or making him want to pull away because he had never grown accustomed to sharing the burdens he carried with others, Monty’s general presence always had such a welcoming warmth to him, which he supposed was ironic considering he was a zombie. And the thoughts that he was a zombie certainly crossed his mind when he was told - he pictured a slack-jawed, drooling, unthinking creature with milky white eyes and a shambling gait. Monty wasn’t any of those, though. At least, he did everything in his power to prevent that. His eyes were dark and sparkled. His heart was still but it was so much more full of life and love than seemed possible sometimes, whether literally or rhetorically. And as Monty opened the door, greeting the professor with that warm smile, immediately pulling him into a hug, for just a moment Gael completely forgot why he was there. The thoughts that he was going to leave fled from his mind, similarly to how they’d done when he told Alan. Every person he told, every person who told him that he didn’t have to, gave him pause. Time had come to a standstill with each of those moments, feeling like he was thrust into a game show where the camera had paused on him while he made a decision, only he never knew if it was the right one. That was how Gael felt now as he, in turn, wrapped his arms around Monty. He felt his cats mewling up at him for attention but there would be time to focus on them. At that moment, as the thoughts of leaving disappeared, he felt Monty. His room temperature skin. His non-beating heart. The complex musculature of a working man and how… full it was despite being a walking corpse. It was like a puzzle had been solved, just slightly too late. Gael welcomed the embrace though, only pulling away once Monty had - how far the cowboy had come since their first interaction. How similar they really were, how foolish the professor had been all those months. “Thank you for having me over; sorry it’s such short notice.” He replied in Spanish before he snapped his fingers, trying to keep an overall light tone to this initial interaction, at least, before having the inevitable breakdown as the gravity of what he was doing crashed down on his withered frame. “Y’know, I should’ve brought some alcohol. Like, super spicy stuff for you.” He laughed. “Water. Water would be good.” He offered instead, placing a hand atop Monty’s and supplying it with some of his excess body heat before looking down at the cats. “Hello my kittens! Give me just a moment to settle then you’ll get pets, too.”

—

“It's no problem, my friend,” Monty responded in turn, laughing at the suggestion that he should've brought booze. “Perhaps next time, ah?” If there was a next time. The somber thought nearly brought a frown to his face but he fought it off, instead giving Gael's shoulder a squeeze. “Come.” He led the way to the familiar kitchen, the remnants of whatever Daisy had been doing in there that morning strewn about. She was something of a whirlwind, sometimes, but Monty didn’t mind it. He actually preferred it because without her (and now Kaden), the house had never felt very lived in.

Moving a spool of twine from the kitchen table to a nearby basket, rewinding it as he went, Monty cleared away a couple more things before getting a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water for his guest. Passing it off, he nodded his head at the porch through the window. “Let’s sit outside, it’s nice right now.” It was a warm afternoon for the time of year, and as the cowboy led Gael out to the chairs that faced out toward the yard and distant barns and pastures, he grabbed a thick, short branch that was clearly being carved into something.

Taking a seat, the zombie removed the knife from its sheath on his belt and started to chip away at the piece of wood. He glanced up from it to look at Gael, giving him a soft smile.

“Do you know where you will be going?”

—

“Next time, for sure.” Though he couldn’t have been sure if there would be a next time. Gael cursed the rate at which information had been ignored and subsequently forced upon him; would it have been easier if he had come to terms with everything sooner? Should he have been more open and accepting of others, despite trying his best to be when he was told about them? So, with these thoughts in his head and no certainty on which ones to consider further - he could speculate all he wanted, but everything up until this point was in the past - Gael followed his oldest friend in town through the nostalgic house. He wished the positive memories of the quaint, warm farmhouse weren't spiked with the distressing ones; the first meeting, the mornings he showed up after. …Now. And even then, it was different than before. He caught Kaden’s scent on occasion, flitting in and out of the air like a wisp. Denver, Dallas, everyone else, they all carried unique traces about them. It was almost a shame that Gael was so slow to realize what he was, so insistent that he wasn’t a monstrous animal that murdered things without provocation. Through the kitchen they went, pausing as dark eyes found the sun that came through the window if only to have something to look at that wasn’t following Monty’s figure as he absently cleared some space. A glass of water, requested so he had something to hold, was given to Gael and as though he and the zombie had the same thought, the latter suggested they sit outside. That worked - the reluctant werewolf’s body temperature, always seeming to run just slightly higher than average on a relaxing day, felt like it was threatening to singe him as his emotions ran rampant through his mind. He sat in the seat parallel to Monty, his brow twitching as he could feel the mottled scar on his lower back being pressed against the wooden slats. The cowboy had taken to carving, and Gael kept his gaze looking out to the rest of the ranch, leaning forward and holding the glass in both hands as he placed his elbows on his knees. “Nope.” He replied first to Monty’s inquiry, trying his best to keep his tone from getting too… emotional, he supposed. “No idea. Thinking about visiting the family down in Arizona.” He paused. “Told my kid that I’d help her find some answers for what’s been going on in her life.” He ultimately decided to share this with Monty - the two didn’t have many secrets between them anymore, and the werewolf had reached a point where Ren wasn’t something he felt like he should’ve had to hide.

—

Nodding as Gael answered, Monty looked contemplative. “Arizona will be good… you should see family.” And it sounded like there was some family he was taking with him. That was good. Monty didn’t like the idea of Gael being alone, so he was glad that there was someone close to him that would be by his side.

He chipped a few more pieces away before speaking again, his tone and the way he held himself with a calm confidence conveying how genuinely pleased he was to hear about this development, and how he didn’t doubt for a moment that Gael would make an excellent father figure for anyone who needed it. “This kid, she is lucky to have you,” he responded thoughtfully. Obviously Gael would have been worried about putting her in danger, so he felt it was safe to assume she knew — about him, and also how to protect herself. There seemed no shortage of those types in this town, anyway. He wouldn’t prod for details though, instead leaving the door open for Gael to pass through if he so chose. It was enough that he told the cowboy about her, and about his plans to leave and figure himself out. Monty didn’t need or want much more than that. As long as Gael was happy, he was happy.

He leaned back in his chair, gaze on the horizon for a few beats. There was something he wanted to say, but he worried that it was too selfish. This journey didn’t involve him, and he shouldn’t play any part in how it was to unravel, but…

“I hope… that you discover what you need to… quickly,” he offered with a breathy chuckle, knowing how it sounded. “I will miss you, Gael. But I am proud of you.”

—

“I’m lucky to have her, if anything.” Gael laughed, the smile lingering on his face longer than the laugh did in the crisp air. He could function on his own, despite how often he didn’t want to. All the times he tried not to think of them as wasted because something fell through, all the ambitions that he had that he’d never see come to fruition. He could function on his own, he told himself until he thought about how close he was to dying out in the middle of the woods. He thought about the look on Alan’s face. He thought about the conversations he had with just about everyone who mattered that didn’t… pretend he didn’t exist. He supposed Regan wouldn’t be there when he got back. It didn’t matter. Right now mattered. And the werewolf leaned back from how he was sitting in the chair himself, keeping his dark gaze looking out as it had been, feeling rather like a cowboy himself at that moment as he heard the rhythmic shaving from Monty, holding his glass of water. He inhaled the scent of the farm, Monty’s smell mingling in with it. The whole place smelled of him, whether that was psychosomatic or not. ��I hope so, too.” The same gentle smile easily found itself back on Gael’s face, though he resisted the urge to look over at the zombie. “I’ve gotten rather fond of everyone here. I just…” He faltered, his brow twitching as a pang of guilt involuntarily prodded at him despite how hard he tried not to let it. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t a choice that he made lightly. He had killed a woman. And instead of accepting it and working with Alan and Alex, he was… chasing an idea, a fantasy. Or was he just running for the first time in his life? “I’ll miss you, too.” Of course he would. He’d probably miss Monty the most; a quiet, unrequited crush that dissolved under the weight of eternally owing the cowboy for the support, the trust, the secrets that he knew the zombie held longer than Gael himself was willing to acknowledge them. “Wait ‘til I come back before you be proud of me.” He scoffed, a light, playful sound that accompanied his smile turning sheepish. “I just hope to find something. You get it. You know how it feels to suddenly… not be what you were before. What you were so used to being.” Gael blinked, lowering his gaze and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It feels… so strange. Like I don’t know who I am anymore.”

—

Monty could understand Gael’s hesitation, his uncertainty that this would accomplish anything. He could understand it better than most. “I know it is scary. I know it might not feel like the right thing to do, or it might feel like the only thing to do… there is no right answer, Gael. And so there are no wrong answers, either. You will find your way, of this I am certain. How that happens… it may take a few tries, yes? A few stumbles along the way. That is okay.” He set his project down in his lap to reach across the small space between them and put a hand on Gael’s arm, coaxing his hand away from his face. He offered his friend a sympathetic smile and nod, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

“You are still you,” he assured him. “This new part of you… it does not subtract. It just adds. You are still you, you are just now more complicated than before.” He thought of Alan—someone he’d not known before the realtor was a werewolf, but who he imagined was not all that different from what he was now.

“Your new family, she will help make this easier. Not because she knows anything you do not, but because she knows your deepest truths. This… this is what Alan and Daisy offered to me. This is what helped me become a person again. What helped me feel something like myself again.” Better than before, if he really thought about it. Someone with a desire to do good and be a positive impact on the world. The fact that it was driven by guilt for the wrongs in his past seemed irrelevant to this conversation, since he didn’t want to add to whatever guilt Gael was already carrying over the accident. “And no, I will not wait! I am proud of you for taking this step, my friend. I will always be proud of you, because you are always trying to act in ways that benefit others, that lift them up. That is something you should be proud of, too. This journey is just about how to keep doing that and figuring out how to manage the things you cannot control. You will find a way. I know you will.”

—

No right answers meant there were no wrong answers. Gael had mentioned that Monty knew how he felt, but sometimes, in that painfully human way, he had temporarily forgotten how well Monty knew how he felt. He’d only been dealing with it for a hundred more years. He felt the zombie’s cool hand on his arm and the gentle guide to lower his hand with the purpose of looking at Monty this time. The zombie’s warm expression, betraying the logic that he was undead, meeting the werewolf’s own that always seemed welling with tears, a brow that was consistently knitted in the middle with an unspoken concern. As Monty spoke, Gael was reminded of how the things he said could’ve been reflected back at the people he spoke about these matters to. It was so easy for him to discredit everything he’d done up until that point because he was convinced that whoever he was before that night in the woods had died. Yet, when he applied that to Monty, or Alan, or Daisy or Alex, the thought didn’t make sense to him. Of course they were still them, it seemed obtuse to think otherwise. But Alan had been a werewolf for over a decade. Zombies were essentially frozen in time when it came to age. ‘More complicated’ felt like an apt description, though he still felt the pull of thinking less of himself. The Wolf didn’t add anything of value to him. It decreased his self-worth. It felt like it should’ve been so easy to just remove. It was so easy to remember before he had to worry about it. The werewolf wiped his eyes with the heel of a hand and he managed another scoff with a laugh at his own emotional vulnerability. He supposed that didn’t change, at least. “You’re right. You’re right a lot.” He replied. “But hey! I finally got you to admit that you’re a person, which is much better than a decorative houseplant.” Gael added playfully, placing one of his hands over the zombie’s gently. “Her name’s Ren.” The shifter said after a moment of silence. “I don’t know if you met her. She’s small and has wild red hair. She, uh… saved me from this monster that was living in a really deep puddle.” It sounded utterly ridiculous now that he was saying it aloud. “And that’s not a metaphor. …Entirely. There really was this puddle that was like… abyssal. And it housed like a mutated alligator-looking thing.” He moved his arms in an attempt to mimic what the thing looked like and about what size it was, which he was sure wasn’t actually helping. Another pause. “...Isn’t that all any of us can do at the end of the day.” There was a soft sigh as Gael calmed back down. “Just figure out how to manage the things we can’t control. For some of us it’s a dependency. For others it’s a monster. Some of us are born with it. But isn’t it so human, trying to find out how to control it?” His other hand subconsciously found the necklace that Emilio had gifted him, gently pressing a thumb against one of the points of the nails that formed the cross. “Can you promise me just one thing?” He asked, turning his gaze to Monty once more.

—

Monty sucked in a short breath, taken aback by his friend’s astute observation—he had upgraded himself to personhood at some point over the last few months, hadn’t he? His lips parted to protest but then he thought better of it, instead just chuckling and shaking his head. “Ah. So I did,” he conceded, offering Gael a shrug. Sometimes he was so busy worrying about other people’s trials and tribulations that he forgot to recognize his own strides in improving himself and his life. He would be remiss if he didn’t at least let Gael know that he played a part in that. “You inspire me to be better. To… appreciate what I have. I am grateful for that.”

He hadn’t met Ren, but he hoped he might get the chance some day. If not, at least he knew she had Gael. “A puddle?” he parroted the other, looking as surprised as he felt. Still, he couldn’t discredit what his friend was saying, laughing when the werewolf spread his arms to try and suggest the size of the beast—after all, Kaden had gotten dosed with hallucinogenics by a frog, of all things. Frankly it sounded entirely plausible. “Gosh, I’m glad she was there, then! That does not sound like it was a fun time.”

He nodded along at Gael’s observation of humanity, finding it to be very true. His gaze fell to the necklace as his friend fiddled with it, then back up to his face when he felt the other’s gaze on him. “Of course, anything,” he responded without hesitation, straightening up in his chair as he waited to hear what Gael had to ask of him.

—

“Psht, we’re all grateful that you’re here; if you weren’t, I probably wouldn’t be, either.” It really was so much easier for Gael to focus on others, even if it wasn’t what the other person wanted. He wasn’t the only one who had grown over the past few months; Monty had maintained his kind, gentle demeanor while being able to find love, let himself accept physical affection, make decisions based on what he wanted to do, stand up to someone like Emilio. It warmed Gael’s heart to see anyone grow, no matter how minute it was. And he was thankful that Monty had so many people in this second life, that he had those chances to be who he wanted to be, to be a person who could love, do the things that made him happy. But then he thought about what he wanted to ask and the context that Monty was a zombie, and for a moment, he fell silent. His eyes didn’t swell with tears this time as he thought about how he wanted to word his request and he contemplated abandoning it altogether, but the contemplation was evident on his sunken face. “On the off-chance that, I dunno, something happens to me and I can’t come back, can you take the memories of me with you?” The words came out, possibly not making sense but Gael was sure to explain a little further just in case. “I know, it’s selfish, but… There’s something a little… tragically comforting in knowing that even when you die, someone will be there to carry your memory.” He explained, fiddling with the cross to give his hands something to do. He felt childish, as though he were actually asking for something as silly as a dollar for some frozen ice. “Like I said, it’s selfish. That’s not fair to you; you didn’t ask to be effectively immortal.” He exhaled. “And, I mean, I do plan on coming back! It’s just… I thought, when I was out in the woods for a couple of weeks, I thought…” The words were getting caught in his throat on occasion. “I thought, when I died, that…” He couldn’t finish the thought, as it turned out. The thought that that was it, that he was just another thing there and gone, to be lost to time. That no one would know he was gone, that no one would think he deserved to be mourned or searched for. He realized how foolish he sounded, maybe, or how selfish it was. In any case, the rest of the sentence died in his mouth and he gave Monty a look, sad but not teary-eyed. Regretful and almost as though he knew the answer but there was some selfish part of him that needed to hear it come from the zombie.

—

He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. Monty frowned in a concerned sort of way, but just listened quietly while the other explained his thought process. He could understand it, the sentiment in Gael’s heart and why he felt the need to ask for such a thing, having had the same thought himself. Before he was doomed to walk this earth forever, of course. He set aside the knife and the thing he was carving, getting to his feet only to crouch again in front of the chair Gael sat in. He stole the glass of water from Gael and then took both of his friend’s hands in his own, looking up at him with a determined expression.

“The ones that matter stay with me. The man whose cruelty started me on the path of being a kinder and more compassionate person, even though the last time I saw him was in 1904, he remains a part of me. And you…” He huffed out a sigh, shifting his weight almost anxiously, giving Gael’s hands a squeeze. “I was going to carry you with me whether or not you asked me to. It is not selfish to want to know that you had an impact.” It was hitting him harder now—the knowledge that his friend was leaving for some indeterminate amount of time. It didn’t matter how much Gael insisted he would be coming back, because neither of them knew when, and there was still always that possibility that he wouldn’t. Monty would never voice this fear aloud, he wouldn’t want to give it any kind of credence, but it was there in the back of his mind. Crouched like a predator, making him fearful and upset.

“You have, Gael. More than you can know.” His calm, even tone had become somewhat constricted, like it was becoming more difficult to speak. And it was, because it broke his heart to think that there was any possibility that Gael felt like this might not have been true. “You mean so much to me, you…” Frustrated and feeling like the words weren’t doing a good enough job of saying what needed saying, Monty rose to his feet and pulled Gael up out of the chair, grasping him in an even fiercer hug than before, his composure shot to shit in one fell swoop. His eyes stung with tears as he stared at nothing in particular beyond Gael’s shoulder, and he just held on like the next time he let go, that would be it.

—

Just as it was easier for him to focus on others, it was also easier not to get emotional as his studious, contemplative expression was effortlessly shifted into one of… he wasn’t sure as Monty crouched in front of him with a steadfast expression. It didn’t feel right, it never felt right. Gael was the one to match others in height, change himself to match them; not the other way around. It never felt right. Just like it never felt like he was making the right decision whenever he left. There was always someone or something worth staying for and by making the choice to leave, he was leaving those people or things. Monty was in front of him, assuring him that he wouldn’t be forgotten, in that childish way he needed to be assured - the lack of permanence that when someone left the room, they left reality. Of course Monty would remember him, it was so dumb of Gael not to think that. Or was it haughty? Was it more selfish to ask someone to carry that weight or to assume it would be? He didn’t know as the cowboy’s words faltered, standing, pulling him to stand and taking him in another embrace. This one was tighter, yet less restricted. Exposed, shining through the facade of politeness, emotional restraint. Gael knew that Monty would be okay - he’d been okay for a century. The man was much hardier than the werewolf himself would’ve ever thought months ago, and that thought itself just went to show how Gael really hadn’t been there that long. Still though, despite the negative thoughts tugging on his mind, the shifter easily reciprocated the hug, closing his own eyes as he once more felt the nuances in Monty’s body and how alive he felt despite knowing better now. “I’ll miss you, brother.” The words were muffled into the cowboy’s shirt but he made sure they were audible nonetheless. He’d never had a brother before. He’d had friends that he felt filled the role, of course, but they either left him or he left them. Just as he was doing now, with Monty, with Alan. Gael loved quickly and easily, sometimes too easily, and that got him in trouble. But he never regretted it. He never regretted loving deeply, broadly, he never felt pulled thin by it as he thought about everyone in his life, everyone he took with him despite his own limited time on earth. Did he love Montaña? Yes. He did, even if he didn’t feel it appropriate to say so. Brothers, with aches and troubles and things inside them that turned them into monsters. Things that tested them, things that made them realize what was important. He was so glad that Monty had those people in his life. But letting go, even if for a little while, felt so insurmountably difficult sometimes.

—

“I’ll miss you too, mi hermano,” Monty reciprocated softly. He knew that what he was feeling was mostly pity for himself, for having to let the other go. Since opening himself up to a wider circle of friends, this was the first one he’d had to say goodbye to. He hadn't realized it would be so difficult, even with the promise of a reunion on the horizon. The friends and family he'd lost over a century ago had been so abrupt and confusing and traumatizing that he'd not really had the time or clarity to process it, but here? Now? He was all too aware of the ache this was causing and he wished, desperately, that he could provide whatever answers or solutions or experiences that Gael needed to feel comfortable staying. But he couldn't. He knew that. This was not his fight and he had to let his friend make this choice, even if he didn't like it. He supported Gael, but that didn't mean he had to be thrilled by it.

Dried leaves pinwheeled across the yard as the wind kicked up for a few seconds, rustling the branches of the nearby trees and coaxing Monty to lessen his iron grip on his friend. “You come back to me,” he began softly, still not fully pulling away, “and I promise I will always be here for you.” He was immortal, frozen in time. Gael was not. Gael would grow older, he would enter stages of his life that Monty would never be able to experience, and eventually, he would be taken from the zombie. They all would, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do whatever he could for as long as he could to make sure they were looked after. “When you and Alan and all of my friends are… are discovering the joys of bingo night, I will be here.” He couldn’t imagine moving on from them, that just wasn’t who he was. “So come back.” Now he straightened himself up, moving so he could see Gael’s face. “I really need to know how much taller than you I will be once you start shrinking.” A grin lit up his face in spite of the way he felt, or perhaps because of it.

—

The werewolf wasn’t aware that his own grip seemed to tighten slightly, that same childish feeling like it was the last time he was going to be able to do this even though that was defeatist. Then again, maybe part of him felt like maybe Monty would be able to feel it then. “I will.” Gael assured, finally opening his eyes that glistened in the soft morning sun. They were unfocused, but present as he returned from the moment, even managing a smile as they talked about the prospect of Gael growing old. It was humbling, in a way. Gael had never thought about death in such abstract concepts before; ghosts were in religious text but zombies sure weren’t. Before, it was considered a natural part of life - to live, grow old with the people you love, then move on to whatever came after but… would Monty have an after? Was this Monty’s after? It made the shifter realize just how limited his own time was - over forty years old, having been turned into a werewolf a little more than a year ago. Turning his life on his head, his one life, his one shot. It was difficult to think that that was all he got, and he was relegated to being forced to deal with this parasite inside of him. “Of course I’ll come back.” He reassured, leaning back so he could see Monty’s face in turn. “Even though I’ll probably still be around your height.” With that, Gael gave the cowboy a gentle, playful push. “And you’re older than me! You’ll always be older than me, don’t give me this shit about bingo!” He laughed, wiping his eyes though his face was still red from the emotions he was determined not to let overwhelm him. “As you sit in your chair and carve your wood looking out over the prairie.”

—

Monty withdrew as he was pushed, crossing an arm over his chest to grasp at his own shoulder and letting out a breathy laugh. “¡Oye! Who knows, maybe I will be discovering the joys of bingo with you!” he offered, still grinning. His arm moved to swipe at the tears with his sleeve and he found himself thankful for this intermission from the uncomfortable disquiet that was knowing this would be the last time he saw Gael for a while. And that being the case, he didn’t want it to be all doom and gloom.

He dropped his arm and reached his hand out to Gael instead, giving his friend a warm smile. “Come on. You’d better say hello to Manzanita while you are here, I think she misses you,” he encouraged. They could walk and talk—he had a feeling that movement would help alleviate some of the unavoidable anxiety, at least in his case.

—

“Good, maybe bingo would be less boring with you there to wake us up every once in a while.” Gael joked back, internally thankful that he wasn’t the only one who got teary-eyed during this exchange. Not that he was embarrassed, but there was something… he felt bad thinking it but there was something human about knowing that zombies could still cry, or at least show some semblance of crying. The scientist did always desperately grab at those connections, feeling like any that were severed as a failure on his part. He wouldn’t fail this time. He wasn’t running away. This was another challenge, something else for him to overcome. He had Ren by his side, he had Alan and Monty, Felix and Alex, Cass, Elias, all the people in that weird little town that he’d gotten to know. Gael wasn’t sure what he would find but he was determined to find it. He could feel his resolve, cliche as it sounded, hardening inside of him, reinforced by the conversations he had. Monty had been dealing with being a zombie for over a century, Ren was learning to be a human after spending her 20 years as a weapon. Alan had been a werewolf for ten years. Gael could learn. None of the people he cared about gave up, he wouldn’t either. The werewolf took Monty’s hand, nodding with a gentle smile of his own. It was melancholy, but in no way hollow or even tired, not this time. “I’d love to see ‘Nita; I’ve missed her, too.” He knew their conversations would ebb and flow, wax and wane as the emotions wove themselves around the words exchanged between the two but they could handle them. And Gael would remember them and his promise to come back.

#. thread ;#. with ; gael cordova #. i see you ;

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concordewillfly · 5 months

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Hiiii aurora dearest how are you? I come to your doorstep to ask for some film recs <3

hiiii gi dear !!!! im ok, hope u are too <3 and omg i loooove this question truly what an honor that u came to me... i dont know what youre looking for in terms of genre or mood so ill give u some of my favourites hoping youll find something u like... sorry this is going to be long and a bit all over the place

may 2002 is just... so relatable to me? its a peculiar lonely weirdgirl spin on frankenstein and its just... yeah. almost painful to watch

crash 1996 is obviously one of my fav movies of all time i talk about it all the time on here but its just so perfect in my opinion. hits the perfect sweet spot between strange and erotic

the teenage apocalypse trilogy by gregg araki + the living end 1992... araki is again a huge influence in my life and my fav director so ofc i had to include him... the dialogues are iconic and very funny and offbeat but also strangely deep and sad. the outfits are great. the music is always perfect (and the source of most of my current music taste). the stylishness and the what the fuck factor make the whole thing unforgettable

past lives 2023 ive seen a couple of days ago and its soooo. quiet and devastating and about missed connections and the nature of human relationships. beautiful

phantom thread 2017 is a classic in my eyes and so tender in a very fucked up way i love it so much

y tu mamá también 2001 so fucking sad but also so sensual. gael garcía bernal said recently that this is one the last really sexy movies and i agree with him wholeheartedly

velvet goldmine 1996 i mean its my fav movie of all time... fake biopic about david bowie and a bunch of other stars of the glam rock era. insane and perfect and with my fav soundtrack of a movie ever and todd haynes is a genius in my opinion and since i mentioned him... his last movie may december 2023 was so good. its heavy though!!

withnail and i 1987... my god. this is apparently seen as a cult classic comedy in the uk which is crazy to me because it sort of made me miserable. it is very funny but also when its not its bleak as fuck i love it

#sorry if youve seen some/all of these + my very basic taste + the very late reply <3 if u want something more precise in terms of genre/mood #just let me know and ill see if i can rec u something xx love u!!!!!#💌

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yellowcry · 6 months

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So, a bit of cracked next gen. Three oldest of them if speak honestly. Because I've got some basic info for them only

Kelley: Like mother like daughter. The eldest out of generation, the daughter of Isabela Madrigal. Even tho she looks a lot like her papa, you'd really call her Isabela's copy. She's graceful, polite, athletic, perfect in any way. But she's also very cold and sarcastic. The golden child of the family in almost literal sense as her gift makes her able to create gold and generally manipulate metal

Gael: Dolores' son (who ended up in an arranged marriage as well) He's very kind and gentle. Pretty much emotional. As he got his gift that made him able to feel everyone's emotions he started to realize that there was something wrong in the family. As he kept growing, this realisation was getting stronger and stronger. In one day, he just knew that he can't ignore it anymore.

Leisha: Again, Isabela's child. She isn't viemed very highly. Isabela almost died in labour, surviving only because of Julieta's food. But she's smart enough and knows when it was better to hide into the shadow to avoid troubles and when she can get something. Her gift of controlling the light helps her a lot with this. Still, she's pretty much jealous of her big sister and wants to be loved like she is. Their relationships somehow resemble Isabela and Mirabel's in their teens/early adulthood tho it's better since they both have gifts and usually don't go into direct conflicts. Don't tell to anyone but Isabela's secretly grateful that she can't get pregnant anymore

#encanto #encanto au #cracked au #encanto next gen #encanto oc #ocs

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canis-or-cannotis-lycaon · 8 months

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TIMING: October 11th LOCATION: The Pines, near the border to Seven Peaks PARTIES: Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f and Ren (@ironheartedfae SUMMARY: When he doesn’t come home or tell anyone where he is, Ren decides to track down Gael. CONTENT WARNINGS: suicidal ideation

All things considered between the dangers of the town in general and the awful, tar-like sludge that enveloped Worm Row and Gatlin Fields, the forest was rather lovely. Sunshine sparkled through the high-reaching trees, the various greens, yellows and reds blending together and subsequently raining onto the foliated forest floor as a gentle, cooling breeze that carried just enough of a bite to it to be noticeable if one was unprepared for it swept through the branches and boughs. The grass was still soft though it started to take a more obviously autumnal shade to it as it was sprinkled with leaves of varying shapes, sizes and colors.

Nearby the small clearing with its picturesque rays of light that illuminated shimmery molecules that floated in the air was a massive, fallen tree, a hollowed out log where time and age had each and collaboratively feasted on it alongside the many insects that scoured the thriving ecosystem that was housed inside. Moss flourished and blossomed out of the crevices of the log, grateful for the increasing moisture in the air and a colony of mushrooms raised their caps high as they enjoyed the light. On the other side of the same clearing was a small, crystalline stream, glittering and quietly running water from wherever to wherever as it snaked across the ground. It was shallow and could’ve been crossed by stepping over it but it still carried miniscule fish with it, darting around in the chilly water. Next to it was a rather large rock, also coated in moss on one side, speckled several shades of gray and shaped in such a way that it could’ve been used as a surface to place things on, like a plate, basket or even a book or piece of paper. This was where Gael leaned absently. This was where Gael had been for the past four days. Or was it five? He had purposefully stopped keeping track. He hadn’t had his phone on him. He sent exactly one message through a library computer to Regan asking if she was alive but before she could answer, he abandoned it and wordlessly left town. He didn’t want to be in the Pines. He didn’t want to be at home. He didn’t want to be anywhere. He felt like he couldn’t go anywhere. Belong anywhere. The thoughts that plagued his tired mind kept biting at him whenever he would drift off to sleep, shocking him awake with yet another gasp as though he’d been stabbed in a different place on his aching body. And maybe he didn’t deserve to sleep. He really didn’t think he deserved it, actually, not after what he– what had happened that night. Part of him, a little part down in his logic and rationale told him that unless or until Regan was found or even if she made her presence known, that he was innocent until proven guilty. That part of his mind was drowned out in favor of whatever else was trampling through it. He did it. He had to have. Regan Kavangh was dead and it was by his hand. He allowed no room for error of judgment or other possibilities, not with the spiral he was so successfully going down for the first time in his life to the point where he had essentially zero methods to adjust or cope with it. So instead, he sat there, almost motionless for the past however many days it was, the only exceptions being when he would drink from the stream or to get rid of it once it had gone through his system. Sleeping was a luxury only afforded to him when primal exhaustion overrode anything else and even then, it wasn’t for more than a couple of hours at a time, if that long. Gael lay there, torso on the rock as his arms were folded and he placed his chin on them to stare blankly at the stream, gaze half-lidded and perpetually rheumy with thick dark circles around his eyes.

He had been there for several days. And he could’ve died there in several more. Maybe that was for the best.

—

Plans had been made and forgotten. The first of the nights spent lonely in the house that was not hers without him, Ren lit the fire in the hearth and sat vigil on the couch. The same spot the pair had snuggled up on to read together. Eyes glued to the door, jumping at every notification and growing more fearful with each that was not some sign of life. The nymph knew what the full moon would bring now that she knew what Gael was. Made all the more dangerous by his unwilling denial on behalf of some stupid selfish fae.

The idea that someone out there still had such a hold on Gael's memory burned in Ren's chest. When she wasn't waiting by the embers of the dying fire she was pacing. Going through the public messages on his page trying to scour them for clues as to his location, or a target for her anger. When time dragged on and still no answer came, Ren gathered up everything she could possibly need, and headed out into the woods.

Tracking was nothing new. After all, she was raised for it. Sounds, temperature shifts, disturbed insects. All of them painted a picture that pointed her in a direction. It still took a few days, wherever he was, it was far out in the woods. Ren moved silently through the underbrush. It didn't appear as if there were any other tracks alongside the werewolf's, but that couldn't be right, could it? If Gael had been healthy enough to trek all the way out here surely he could have come home instead. It didn't make sense. There had to be something else at play. Maybe some fae messed with his head again, or a siren lured him off with songs of hot coffee and good books.

By the time she found the freshest of the clues, Ren and her heart were racing. By the time she saw him across the stream… both nearly stopped. All the feelings she'd been pushing down threatened to surface, but her job wasn't over. She had to bring him home. Had to find out what went wrong. And yet, the red head stood stone still. Brows furrowed deeply as she took in the scene. No one else nearby. No obvious wounds. Still he looked disheveled and hurt all the same. Somehow smaller than himself. Stretched too thin. Similar, if she had to guess, to the state Emilio had found her in after the cu-sith. To the one she had been in when she first met Gael too.

What she learned from both was that this needed to be approached with compassion. It wasn't a problem she could attack with a knife. Wasn't something she could subdue. So Ren moved closer, almost close enough to reach out and touch, but just shy of doing so. Fearful that it was not just sleep that had the man she'd come to care for so much in as sorry a state as he was in.

"Gael?"

—

Once, as recently as eleven days ago, Gael would’ve curiously turned his head as he heard footsteps rapidly approaching, expression welcoming and a smile on his angled face because he was glad to see who it was, if friendly but even if they weren’t, he was still glad to see them. Once, as recently as eleven days ago, Gael almost thought he was just gifted in another way. Not a braggart, of course (that was reserved for his chemistry and physics knowledge and just about nothing else) but lucky. Blessed, even, with advanced sight, smell and hearing that could let him know how others were feeling, could recognize them as they entered the room. Once, as recently as eleven days ago, he never thought there’d ever have been an aspect to him that was capable of unjustified killing. So as those footsteps rapidly approached, only to stop dead as whoever they belonged to either recognized him or didn’t and were surprised by what they saw, Gael didn’t look at them. If it was Emilio or Kaden, he was ready for an unwanted ‘I told you so’. If it was Alan or Alex, he was ready for a well-intentioned but unrelatable speech about how they’d been doing it for years and that it gets easier. If it was a ranger, they’d have been able to recognize the wretched thing inside him, even if he couldn’t himself, and put him out of his misery. The voice belonged to none of those, as he heard his name, the two simple syllables that used to identify him as himself were called in an accent, a tone, a voice he instantly recognized. And it was one that he realized he had been perhaps avoiding most of all. A soft, yet thick exhale escaped through his nose as he blinked slowly, not turning or even moving to acknowledge her existence. He somehow knew that she’d find him; she was a master of tracking and survival, after all and that just made his stomach twist around itself even more. How selfish of him that he made her come find him. “...Hi, Ren.” Gael finally said quietly, in a voice that hadn’t been used in at least four days, and obviously so as the two syllables of his own were threadbare, raw, scraping together a semblance of sound from the bottom of a barrel.

—

Ache weighed down the werewolf like an anchor, you didn’t have to be an expert to see it. The way it clung to his skin. Chaining him down to the rocks he lay against. Dashed there like a ship who never even intended to reach harbor. Ren inched closer. Unspeaking. An ache of her own joined from deep in her chest. She wanted to help. She didn’t know how. A mind electric and alive when things needed to be cut down, when someone needed a weapon to dash between life and death. This was— it was a different beast. One far too familiar to the nymph. She’d seen that look, known that pain. It wasn’t an easy thing to carry.

Slowly, she made her way to his side. Just where they might have settled if this was a couch and not a wet stone in the middle of the woods. Ren gave space for him to breathe, but needed for him to know she was there to help carry whatever burdened him so much. A small hand wormed its way over to his, carefully intertwining, held gently.

“You–” Words never came easy. Even at the best of times Ren’s voice was a fleeting, stuttering thing. Never quite as confident as the fae wanted it to be. “...do not have to do this alone, you know. Something went bad, did it not? When–” she paused, feeling the translation roll around in her mind. “When it rains, we keep each other dry. Yes?”

—

She moved closer, but either Gael didn’t have the energy to move or he lacked the common sense to recoil from her, as things that burned should’ve. Uncharacteristic, foreign, animal, just two primal beings out in the woods, in that beautiful, scenic space where he didn’t look at her but he could visualize the way her fire-red hair blazed in the light. Her freckles kaleidoscopic as they dusted her face. Her piercing emerald eyes when they could effortlessly go from wide and intrigued to narrow with a silent judgment as they tried to discern what something unfamiliar was. Was that how she was looking at him, now? Something unfamiliar, not at all what he’d shown her and what she hopefully had grown to know about him? Something that had never once displayed any unprompted aggression towards her but now sat sulking in the forest with the weight of having presumably slaughtered one of his good friends? Did those emerald eyes regard him as what she was always told she was: a monster? Gael felt like there was something tearing him apart, shredding the fabric of his spirit as something with teeth, claws, and murderous intent thrashed wildly in his… what he thought was a human body. Something that she had gotten a glimpse of when they went camping and the cu-sith showed up. She knew what he was better than he did, now. And maybe she always knew. She was perceptive, very intelligent, and knowledgeable. He felt her small hand wriggle into his and at first, he felt that same animal instinct to pull away. It was the same sensation as when Felix offered him their jacket, a show of trust that Gael had torn apart the night before when… whatever happened to Regan happened. And again, whether that was because of the lack of energy or he’d somehow not thought about what he should’ve done, he didn’t. Gael felt her small hand in his and, trembling, he ever-so-gently squeezed it.

The shifter - that’s what he was called, right? A shifter? - subtly turned his head, still looking out over the stream but now his head was more angled to face in her direction. Barely. “I killed someone.” He whispered, a fresh wave of tears dripping from his red-rimmed eyes, being kept open by willpower and a terror of what would happen if he closed them. “And I don’t remember doing it.”

—

A confession. Heavy on the lips that shared them. Ren held tight, two red hands in one. She didn’t respond, not right away. Instead, her eyes followed his gaze. Found the stream and watched it flow. Noticing how quickly each fallen leaf was carried on down by the gentle current. A pair of them sat apart from the others. Still joined at the stem. They curled together and bowed apart. Twirling in a rippling eddy that captivated them as much as it did the girl’s attention.

Fall always seemed such a morbid time. Appropriate then, that such an awful event should occur. He killed someone. But he didn’t remember it. Was that worse, or better? Ren didn’t know. She never knew these things. All she could offer was a ledger just as full of crimson, and the pen that filled the pages.

“I cannot claim to know precisely what it is you feel. I remember the lives I have taken. But–” The dancing leaves drifted off to the side of the stream, where Ren’s free hand plucked them up and began to examine them up close. Flecks of brown on a sea of gold and orange. Far too beautiful for something that was just rotting away. Life was too fleeting, too short for things like this. For people, those that didn’t carry the burden of time the way nymphs often did. “I am still here. Even if you do not ever wish to go to house. My home… is with you.”

—

There was another long period of silence between them, their hands intertwined. Gael felt guilt strangling him whenever he wanted to talk, threatening him for daring to make his problems hers. She was so small, so competent and she carried so much weight of her own. She was half his age, a fraction of that when one thought about how much more life she had to live and how this was really the first time she’d actually gotten to enjoy things, human things. Things with other people, enrichments in her life. Things she didn’t need but wanted. The sensation gnawed at his hollow stomach and he felt another contraction work its way up his system, nudging his shoulders forward. He shouldn’t have, he shouldn’t have done anything or moved but he did. Gael knew that he was placing Ren in a difficult position, one that she shouldn’t have been in and one that he shouldn’t have forced onto her. It felt unreal, both the interaction with Felix and right now with Ren. He was a dead weight, a useless thing that could never go back to what it was before. Killing Regan wasn’t out of duty or obligation, the way Ren had been taught to murder her own kind. It wasn’t a threat or a promise or whatever had kept Felix in the Grit Pit. It was senseless, blind, as empty as he was becoming as the thing inside him kept ripping him into pieces. Ren had said that her home was with him but he didn’t know if she understood what that meant. More tears forced themselves from him as Gael resisted, resisted, tried to fight against it but he couldn’t and he knew she didn’t like physical contact but he adjusted his position until they were leaning against each other. He felt her lowered body temperature against him. Her fingers intertwined with his. He wondered when the thing inside him would tear her apart, too. He should’ve been leaving her, telling her that she was better without whatever he was, that she was wasting her time and that she still had so much life to experience, so many friends to have… That it was for her own good. That whatever happened, whatever loyalties he had towards Regan didn’t mean anything to the wretch inside him. If the two were even separable.

Gael felt her body heat. The words she said running in an exhausted loop in his head that pulsed with dehydration. “It’s broken.” He finally replied, his creaking voice thick with phlegm. He turned to look at her at long last, face gaunt, beard unkempt. Eyes sunken, rheumy. An expression that held multiple meanings, none of which were familiar to him. Dark, glistening eyes looked at her, half-lidded. “And the rain comes in.” He sniffed, determined to keep his eyes on her now despite every inflammation in his brain urging him to look anywhere but at her. “I tried. I tried not to let it. “I’m so sorry, Ren.” He shivered an exhale, choking the apology through a sob. “I’m sorry for making you come out here, I’m sorry for– For not… telling you. I’m sorry that I can’t be… what you need me to be. What you deserve.” He lifted her hand and carefully placed another shaking hand over it. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

—

“If it’s broken…” Ren repeated the phrasing, welcoming the pressure against her shoulders as he leaned over. Surprised by it, not that Gael felt the need or desire for it, but that she had missed this so much. “Then we can patch the roof. We can sit until the rain stops.” Metaphors were clumsy and twisted on her tongue, but she remembered so clearly the way he cared for her. The way he took her in. Gave her shelter, gave her space to finally learn what it meant to just be herself. Something she had never dared to dream of before.

“You are in pain. That is– It is–” Her brows furrowed as she fumbled for the right phrasing. For the ideas she was trying to catch up with. “I run off too. When things are much– in here.” Ren gestured to her chest, then to his. Her hand found the place just above his heart, she pressed it there for just a moment before pulling back slightly. “World is too noisy. Too many people to get caught up in something I cannot control. It feels… or it felt… safer when I am–was alone.” The redhead paused, her lips tightly pressed, a thin line of thoughtful contemplation.

“It is not such anymore. I feel safer when I am with you. So—So you cannot have failed me. This is just… a storm. We will survive the flood together.” Ren hadn’t put together a plan for this. She couldn’t have expected it, even if maybe she should have. There was not much that she knew of werewolves. She knew Gael was one, and she knew that she loved Gael in a way she still didn’t quite understand. In a way that she never felt enough room for in her chest. As much or more, perhaps, than her mother. Lord knows he showed so much more kindness. An infinite expanse of calm compassion that Darya wasn’t even capable of. It was only fair to return some of it. To hold onto his hurt while it was too big to shoulder alone.

“Do you wish… to talk about it?” That’s what he always asked right? Ren leaned into him, but shifted slightly so she could pull the bag off her back. Fussing with the neatly packed contents, she procured a few things. The blanket, which seemed more necessary to drape over the pair for warmth rather than to lay out below. A sandwich or two, and twin thermoses. One of coffee, one of apple juice. Roles reversed, returning the care he’d taught her to give.

—

He felt her effort. He felt her effort and her words and her… Gael wasn’t sure if he’d earned the right to call it ‘love’, even at this point. Things were so fickle, so prone to changing and he felt all of them on his dirt-covered skin, pouring over his heated mind, a gentle coolness to a sickness that held him in a stranglehold. He’d only thought a handful of times about how ephemeral things were, tried as he might’ve to enjoy moments as they happened. Gael wanted to enjoy this. He wanted to enjoy this selfish treasure, the feeling of eating with his little fern in the idyllic grove they found themselves in. He wanted to understand that she knew how he felt; she’d killed many more people and at a fraction of his age, after all. He wanted to feel this potential gravesite morph into one of that ephemeral beauty, another snapshot in his mind that he could draw back on in the middle of the night when he found himself lonely, or afraid, or with a rare self-doubt pestering his mind. But he… couldn’t. Tempting as the offer was, no matter how badly he wanted this, Gael simply hadn’t deserved it. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he could’ve done more to deserve it less. He killed Regan, did nothing while Felix selflessly helped him, took up their space, wasted their food. Even the conversation with Zoey however long ago felt like a fleeting memory of something he didn’t deserve. He didn’t deserve to eat a sandwich with Ren, or go home with her, or… The guilt chewed at his stomach again and he clenched his teeth visibly under the taut skin that stretched across his jaw, hidden under the nest of hair that’d accumulated on his face after over a week of neglect. Did he want to talk about it? No. He wanted to give Ren an excuse that she wouldn’t take, do a disservice to her and stay there until he wouldn’t be anyone’s problem anymore. No more wasted food. No more nosey questions. No more murder that wasn’t his to remember, but his to deal with the fallout and ramifications of. And yet… he felt like he lost both ways, no matter what he wanted and didn’t want. His brow furrowed, he reached up to wipe his watering eyes with the calloused heels of his hands. He didn’t want to talk about it but what he wanted and what he needed were two different things sometimes. “We went… camping.” He loosed an exhale that was accompanied by another sniffle. “We chained me to a tree. Then…” He grunted and Gael pressed his hands to his head as he tried once again to recall something, anything, but of course it was as it’d been every time before. Every time. He shouldn’t have been dumping this on Ren; the poor girl didn’t need it. He was a terrible guardian. “Then I woke up and–” His breath caught in his throat. “I found… the sleeve of her coat.” Shaking hands didn’t know where they wanted to rest or motion to as he wanted to gesture to the chain harness he woke up in, the sleeve of Regan’s coat, the tree with the shattered links scattered on the forest floor. So, instead, he folded them them against his stomach, reeling all over again from the sensation of the memories he was allowed to retain cutting into his body.

—

As he had done before, she made space for him now. Ren watched and listened. Careful to absorb every detail, to find the missing pieces by cobbling together the context. A hand found his back as he doubled over his stomach. Her thumb rubbed small circles, a comforting gesture she’d picked up from somewhere. Unsure of the origin, but remembering the sensation all the same. Pain had a way of metastasizing, growing into something bigger than oneself. Too big to contain, too strong to hold back. She knew better than most that when it was like this, it was a ride you couldn’t get off of. Thrown around the river rapids by hands that decided where you’d land. Whether it’d be somewhere soft, or against sharp rocks at the whims of a waterfall.

“But… Gael you went camping with Regan?” The first falter of confusion hit her tone. Had she missed something, or was there more than one other person there? Or was his the context that was missing? “You only found the sleeve, yes?” Hope had found a seed in this line of thinking. One she wouldn’t normally afford the sun needed to gift it life, but this, this was cause for celebration if it was the case, wasn’t it?

—

The young fae’s hand on his back, rubbing small circles of warmth over one of the many bruises he’d acquired from the heavy chain harness, didn’t assuage the aching in his gut but it did serve its own purpose, each completed circuit seeming to take just a little bit of the overwhelming tension with it. Gael found himself trying again, in vain, to recall anything in the gap of his memory from being chained to the tree, hands behind his back to waking up not chained to the tree and with his hands completely free. Then Ren asked if he had gone camping with Regan. The name that still stung bitterly on his tongue, not belonging in his mouth as though a curse he’d been forbidden from saying due to squandering it. When he tried to visualize what had happened, all he could think of was the sleeve of her stupid puffy white coat with the blood smeared on it. He thought about the way his reality came crashing down around him, about how horrible he must’ve looked, sounded, smelled to Felix. He thought about how Regan’s last moments of life must’ve been full of… Gael didn’t even know. Betrayal? Disappointment? Fear? Before he– Or the thing inside him– His stomach tying itself into knots, Gael pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets once more as though by physically blocking out the light, it would take the negative memories - all he had left of her - with it. “Yeah.” He admitted quietly and with that utterance, he felt another stab of guilt in his chest all over again, a cycle of perpetuated misery, an ouroboros of profound grief that he wasn’t sure how to break out of.

—

“But–” All at once the excitement burst, it wasn’t often Ren had good news to deliver. “But Gael, she is very much alive!” The nymph practically bounced to her feet. A great smile lit up her face despite the fact that so much concern still radiated off the girl. Her eyes darted frantically around as if she couldn’t quite decide where to place them. “You– You could not have hurt her because she has sent the privateer message to me!” Energy bounced around inside the bug, and her limbs responded in kind. First finding his shoulders for a second to squeeze, then her bag for a second before remembering that her phone died after her third day in the woods.

Ren turned back towards the direction of town for a second before realizing she did not have any direct evidence to share right away. Had she realized the importance of the frantic seeming message from the banshee, she would have gotten it printed, framed, or completed a fully rendered oil painting even if it would have spared the man any of this pain.

Knowing he hadn’t actually done such an awful deed wouldn’t fix the week he must have had, wouldn’t change the heartache of thinking he had. Of worrying that it could happen again. But Ren also knew they couldn’t broach that subject further until the fae who had stolen his ability to know was brought to justice. But she could hope it lifted the biggest weight off of his shoulders.

—

The shift in energy from Ren was almost tangible how quickly and fervently it had gripped her. She sprang to her feet and Gael’s gaze, sleep-deprived and sluggish, slowly tracked up to see the beaming smile doing its best to convey the sudden sense of ecstasy that washed over her. And then the words she said, after a longer period than necessary, caught up to his mind and his breath seemed to pause in his throat.

Regan was… alive.

Gael realized quietly and rather painfully that he wasn’t sure if he would’ve believed this if it had come from anyone else. And a great deal of his insides, the parts that were churning and trying to kill him as he was so sure that he’d done the same to someone else who didn’t deserve it wanted to have him think, feel, trust that she was just saying this to placate him to bring him home to a place that wouldn’t feel right to something like him anymore. But… this was Ren. Ren, the young fae who went out of her way to ensure that people didn’t owe her thanks even if she deserved it in a human way. Ren, who was raised that there were more liars in the world than just fae. Ren, who he sometimes made verbal mistakes around because she took what he was saying too literally or seriously even now. Ren, his little fern, who he trusted with… his life. Who came however many days it was out here in the secluded woods to find him. And she was content to stay with him and the wretched, wrong thing inside of him no matter who it was that he might’ve killed. Which… was nobody. Regan was alive. A shaky exhale heaved his chest and Gael’s vision, his head craned up and looking at Ren with her big smile and elation at being able to say that with no semblance of lying or stretching the truth to make him feel remotely less like a monster, blurred yet again. This time, for the first time in however many days it was since he first aimlessly wandered out into that forest with the intention of never coming home again, it wasn’t from shouldering the immense grief of killing anyone but especially someone he cared so much about. It wasn’t earned, he could feel it, but he couldn’t keep his body from trembling as what felt like relief washed over him. It wasn’t as cleansing as it could’ve been but it didn’t need to be. It was enough to expose a piece of him that he’d covered up with dark, fur-covered hands and shining claws, something he was sure he’d never get to see, deserve, or feel again: Hope. Nostrils flared wildly, a lower lip quivered and the sound that erupted from him this time was a mixture of a sob and a laugh, almost as though he were trying to laugh at how utterly ridiculous and dramatic he had been. It was quickly smothered in more futile gasps for breath, sniffles that didn’t perform their function correctly and in another image, mirroring the one that day with Felix, Gael leaned forward, his hands wrapped around his aching stomach and head bowed and he wept. Unlike the mirror image, though, this wasn’t ugly or loud. It was a restrained, tearful sigh that carried the shape of a smile at the end of it. It was a timid tug on his heart, that small child of hope that held hands with the monster’s and he felt its warmth. It was an emotional release disregarding what the newly-appointed consequences for these selfish actions he’d performed the past however many days were. At least for now. It was an overwhelming sensation that fought the thing that was ripping him apart.

It wracked his body, peeling pieces of the shell that’d formed around little more than an exposed core ready to burn out as it didn’t feel deserving of life anymore. Gael couldn’t look at Ren but ultimately, as more tears he didn’t have streamed down his face and he faced the ground, he smiled. “Thank you for finding me, little fern.” He said softly, his voice simultaneously dry and yet wet. He knew what that meant to the young fae, but he meant it. He wasn’t sure if he had the capacity not to mean anything he said at this point. “...Okay.” Wherever she was, wherever Ren had ended up during yet another one of his melodramatic outbursts, Gael’s dark-ringed eyes and face stained with tears found her. “Okay.” He repeated. “Let’s… go home.” Whatever came next would come next. Regan’s being alive didn’t fix how wrong his existence still felt, though he still didn’t know what it was. And it didn’t fix how sorry he was, or how Regan and… Ren, and anyone else who interacted with him were still in danger from whatever that thing inside him was. But for today, for now, even… he felt like he could’ve been able to go back home. Home, where Mirabel and Montaña were. Home, where even if they didn’t interact, he could still feel Ren where she belonged, which in turn helped him feel like he belonged. Home, with her.

—

Cautious eyes watched the waves of emotion wash over the man. Every stage of grief slowly morphing into something resembling desperate relief. It sat like a stone in his chest tied to a hot air balloon up above. Ren wanted to lift the anchor, to let him be able to just soar but there was far too much tangled up inside. Not even the news of his innocence was enough to dislodge the stubborn knots. She could understand that. Each time someone brought a new realization to the fae, she had to wrestle with it. Try and pare it down until it fit within the wires of her mind.

Not all fae were bad.

Which meant she had a chance of being good. It meant she had been lied to. About this and so much more. Tiny disruptions to her way of thinking made waves that cast tidal forces on the whole of her being. Chipping away at the wall she had built around her heart. Around the box she placed a certain assumption two hunters had made. If Darya was a liar, she could have been the one to kill Ren’s real family. Still, the fae did not know how either came to such a conclusion. Only that they had done so separate from each other. And that scared her.

“Yes, please I would– Oh sugar.” The familiar, non-swear surfaced again as a thought occurred to the young fae. She wasn’t the only one out looking for the werewolf. “First we must find Alex.” The sudden burst of giddy glee subsided, replaced with a growing sheepishness. It wasn’t in Gael’s nature to make Ren feel badly about anything like that, but the deeper wounds still gripped against her heart when memories of being reprimanded for such childish outbursts played back in real time.

“She is also in searching for you. We both became worried when you did not answer. I think Regan must have as well. But she is still within town and not in woods.”

—

Getting his breathing under control, huffing out breaths through an ‘o’ formed on his mouth, Gael cleared his throat and nodded, again before realizing what Ren had said. “...Alex is out here, too?” He really had been selfish as he wandered out there in the woods. He always talked such a big game about being remembered, about how when Regan was going to leave, that she was going to be leaving a bunch of people who cared about her behind. He’d been so wrapped up in his own despair, his own sudden, crushing feelings of worthlessness and shame that he had failed to practice what he preached. It never once crossed his mind that there would be anyone looking for him, especially people aside from Ren. Ren was the exception; Ren lived with him, knew about him. Ren would do this for anyone, he knew, even for things like him that might not have deserved it (Regan’s being alive, while instantly lifting a weight from his mind, couldn’t keep the rest of him from threatening to drown under the waves of reality that forced him to think that it could happen to anyone, at any time, without provocation or memory). So learning that Alex was out there when she should’ve been with Cass or Alan or Kaden or… whoever else needed her, sent a small pang of guilt through Gael’s weary heart. Regan also… worrying about him felt like something else, something that he wanted to violently reject like blood cells attacking a foreign body. He was almost mad, even if he understood what her worry meant and sounded like. She probably– She probably posted something about how there was a– The word inspired bile in his esophagus, burning. A dog. That’s what he was to her. She probably posted about a dog going missing. But he took a deep, filling breath that rattled something in his chest cavity loose and he regarded Ren softly, gently, tearfully though he was almost certain that was through crying… at least until he saw the worry on Alex’ young face, too. Alex, and whoever else knew, whoever else worried about him without knowing what he thought he did. “Alright.” Moving almost agonizingly slowly - he hadn’t moved at all that day - Gael shakily got to his feet. He ignored the aches, pains, feeling his legs threatening to give out though he couldn’t keep one of his hands from clenching his empty, starving stomach subconsciously. Swaying where he stood, his other hand lazily brushed his long hair from his sunken face. “Let’s go… find Alex. Then we’ll… We’ll go home.” Home. Not somewhere he’d ever think he’d go back to.

—

Sitting or standing, he still looked so much smaller than himself right then. The girl scooped her arm underneath his, supporting his weight with her enhanced strength. The added pressure around her shoulders was welcome. Even more so was the closeness it brought. Ren leaned into it. Squished her cheek against his chest and held tight to his arm like a security blanket. If a few days in the woods had roughed up his smell, then she didn’t notice. It was just… Gael. The same heartbeat, the same warmth, the same shape she’d found herself puzzle pieced into. Not really knowing where she’d be right now if she hadn’t met him. If things had gone in any other direction.

It was nice, almost, being able to care for him. Gael wasn’t one to show this kind of vulnerability, even when he maybe should have. He taught her that it was okay to need help. To accept it. But the times when he would allow such a thing to even show were far and few between. Made sense that it would all come bubbling up at once. Maybe it was a good thing, in a way. Ren remembered how much she felt like she needed the tears that came when she had first shown herself, her real self to him. Mixed up emotions in a messy heap, but the processing left her better. More in control.

“You need to eat though. Before anything else. We cannot hike on empty tummies. Unless you know way to make battery from things out here. I brought charger but did not think about how no places would have–” Ren bit at her lip, like that would stop her sudden rambling. Gael might know how to do something like that. He was always showing some interesting science tid-bit that she just ate up. Found fascinating in a way nothing else really ever captured her attention except perhaps art. An Onion, he mentioned one time, could be used to create an electric current. She didn’t bring any onions, but they did occasionally grow in the wild. If not them, then their cousins.

“Do you wish for the coffee? I do not know if it is as good as yours but I followed the way you prepare it on fancy machine. Though it is perhaps cold now.” Her free arm went fishing in the backpack again, pulling out the thermos for a second time. Maybe he’d feel more like eating now that he wasn’t– well, wasn’t wallowing in the pit of thinking he was a murderer. An understandably hard swamp to escape from.

— The shifter, even after their discussion and months of what they’d been through, wasn’t expecting her to so readily place herself under his arm and for a moment, his mind flashed with memories he did keep, those memories he stored like photographs and looked fondly on. Gael thought of their first interaction online. Of the vodnik, the puddle, the rain and when they both got ‘attacked’ by the glitter that was on his couch. He thought about her showing him her ‘true form’, which was small and cute and unusual though she hated it and how she looked different and might’ve been different but it was still Ren.

He thought of the picnics. He thought of the first time he showed her apple juice. He thought about how relieved he was when she came home after missing herself for about a week, and how his own insecurity and desire to protect her were incompatible and instead of finding her himself, as she’d done with him, he left it to Emilio. But it was important to remember the bad memories too, because even bad ones still existed. They’d had a couple of disagreements, a few ideas that had to be worked around. He would find small animals that had escaped from her eager hands underfoot or, more unfortunately, in the jaws of one of the kittens and he had to gently discuss those things with her.

But those memories were theirs. And she was there today, physically, coming to bring him home. Offering to let him lean on her. For a moment, just a brief moment, Gael leaned forward, closed his eyes and placed his face in her hair. He smelled her scent through the forest, the dirt, the days she spent getting to him. He breathed deeply and a faint smile, exhausted and thin but sincere, found its way onto his features. Then gently, ever so tenderly, he kissed her head. ‘Thank you for finding me.’ He wanted to say but he didn’t want to make her feel any more awkward - she’d already done so well, stepping far outside her comfort zone for him. So that’s what he said with the kiss, speaking without words.

He didn’t know if she would get that interpretation but it just felt right. And speaking of things that felt right… “You’re right. No use hiking on empty stomachs.” He stayed close to her, in turn curling the arm that was over her shoulders, gently, comfortingly but not to the point where he couldn’t breathe, move or disengage if she wanted. His other hand went from grappling his stomach uselessly to taking the thermos from her, holding it out so she could unscrew the lid for him. “And any-temperature coffee made by you sounds exactly like what will help my battery.” He glanced down at her, quirking one of his eyebrows. “And maybe a sandwich.”

Things would never go back to normal. Not quite, not with the way he left them and with such horrifying gaps in his memory. What his mind could put in place of those gaps. The rabid thing inside him that would destroy everything Gael, the human, knew and loved.

But with Ren, with Alex, with Alan and Felix and Monty and… possibly even Regan (if she would ever accept his apology) there, all of them abnormal themselves, letting him into their lives, maybe normal wasn’t something that needed to be gone back to. Maybe this was the new ‘normal’.

The thoughts were too complicated for the shifter’s low-energy brain. For now, he did just want to sit in that beautiful glen and eat food that his little fern made. Two of each thing because she knew she was going to find him.

#wickedswriting #writing: when the rain stops #writing with: Ren #suicidal ideation tw #//Ren is the BEST #//And Lou is the BEST

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