Hufflepuff x Hufflepuff friendships: They’re waking up in glorious light, the gentle, tripping peace of the morning. They’re unexpected gestures, food or thoughts or blankets for the cold. They’re compliments, smiles turning skyward, thumbs dragged over soft skin, let me know you get home safe texts. They’re running through flower fields in the spring, hurricane petals fuelling runaway hearts, maps and compasses that always point back to home. They’re pulling you closer, letting you in, trusting you with your barely-there breath on their neck. They’re sun cracked smiles, flowers blooming in the palms of your hands. They’re eyes so soft they could be made of silk, kiss-bitten lips and cheeks made of roses. They’re the first easy breath after years of suffocation, knowing that whatever happens, you’re going to be okay because they’re beside you.
Hufflepuff x Gryffindor friendships: they’re blanket forts with secret passwords, a world built up from nothing. They’re laughter late at night, choked noises when you know you should be silent. They’re back to back, spinning, a wild desire to protect, to love, to have forever, not just today. They’re boxes overflowing with memories: cards and pressed flowers and lipsticks from first kisses you don’t really remember. They’re smiles wider than the sky, promising the universe if it means having each other: the sun, the stars, the flowers, the moon. They’re giddy, excitable, endless, maddening fun; the beauty of innocence embodied in the breath between your lungs. They’re hiding but always being found, secrets neither of you can keep. They’re falling asleep under a mountain of words- dreams and adventures and the promise of a better world tomorrow.
Hufflepuff x Ravenclaw friendships: they’re constellations made by far away stars, places you haven’t visited yet. They’re hiding in empty swimming pools, night spilled fracture lines, light reflected through a broken mirror. They’re staying up too late and waking up too early, weary yawns into knuckles and kisses pressed onto delicate palms. They’re smiles like spun sugar at breakfast, seeing the universe reflected in each other’s eyes, reading poetry from lips shaded pink. They’re gasping breaths when no one else can hear, hiding hurt no one else can see. They’re talking pain into silk, weaving misery into tapestries stained with desperate last words: I love you, I need you, why wasn’t I enough? They’re picking up pieces of each other and examining them, studying them, dusting them off and putting them together again. They’re arm in arm, skipping, dancing to a rhythm neither of you can hear yet. They’re reaching, reaching, stretching across the void, pulling back, pulling in, safe in each other’s arms.
Hufflepuff x Slytherin friendships: they’re knees pulled up to your chest, hushed whispers in the early morning. They’re a hand at the base of your spine, subtle touches, smiles, small and fleeting. They’re silence hanging through water, eyes closed, warm, gentle, calm, safe. They’re slamming books down, lightning cracking the sky, thunder rolling in your breath. They’re losing oxygen, hurricane hearts and lungs swimming with poetry. They’re still, so still, static thought made art on canvas skin. They’re pulling back, helping up, balancing on someone’s shoulders. They’re secret meetings in dusk-hushed corridors, tears when you can’t hold them in. They’re light crossing the sky in the early morning: possibilities pressed gently into the palm of your hand. They’re reaching for someone and knowing that they won’t let go- not unless you tell them to.
Hi my name is Jesse McCree and I have a gun called Peacekeeper (that’s how I got my name) and a cool hat and a serape and brown eyes that look like the dirt and a lot of people tell me I look like Clint Eastwood (AN: if u don’t know who he is get da hell out of here!) I’m not related to Gabriel Reyes but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a cowboy but I’m like a cool cowboy. I have tan skin. I’m also a member of Overwatch and I go to a secret base called Gibraltar which is in Spain where I’m a veteran (I’m thirty-seven). I’m a cowboy (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly western. I love Country Outfitter and I buy all my clothes there. For example today I was wearing my red serape with my hat on my head and my super cool belt buckle. I was smoking outside of Gibraltar. The sun was setting, which I was very happy about. A weird japanese man on a cliff stared at me. I shot a bullet at him.
Let me tell you a secret. No one is ever ready for anything. Everyone is just stumbling along, pretending that they know what they’re doing and where they’re going, because if they can convince everyone else that they have a plan, they’re one step closer to convincing themselves.