#I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE THEY ARE DOING THIS TO ME

[mercurysmicrowave]

Imagine you and Mark broke up because he still had lingering feelings for Eve. So now you're sitting in your dorm room late at night when...

"(Y/N)?" A familiar voice calls from the other side of the door. You put your phone down and move from your bed. You hesitate to open the door. Not because you don't want to see the person on the other side, but because it's really late and usually Mark taps on your window or texts you first.

"(Y/N), are you in there?" Mark asks. "Please, I...I need to see you. I need to know you're okay." Your heart shatters at the desperation in his voice. You reach for the doorknob and open your door.

"Mark?" The lightning in the hallway is dim, but you can tell that your ex-boyfriend is wearing his hero suit. You quickly pull him into your room and lock the door.

"What is wrong with you?" You ask. "What if someone saw you?" He doesn't answer. Instead he pulls you into a tight hug.

"Oh god, you're okay," He says. His voice was barely above a whisper. "You're safe." You reluctantly wrap your arms around him. You've seen Mark cry before, but never like this.

"Yes, I'm safe," You tell him. "But what are you doing here?" Before he can answer, your window shatters. Your pushed to the ground and your ex-boyfriend is pinned against the wall.

"Mark!" You exclaim. You rub your head, and your eyes try to adjust to the dark scene. Mark was being pinned to the wall by...Mark? You rush to the light switch and flip it on. Held against the wall was Mark in a black and blue suit, but his whole face his covered. And holding him against the wall, was another Mark, in his new blue and black suit, but you were able to see his face.

"Don't fucking touch her," Your Mark growls. His hands tightened around the imposter's neck.

"Get off of me!" The imposter's says in between coughs. His head is bleeding, and the blood starts to roll down his face. The imposter turns to you.

"(Y/N)," The imposter says. "You're not gonna let him kill me, are you?" You stutter out a sentence, your mind moving faster than you can process words. You look between the two, unsure what to do.

"Don't listen to him," Your Mark yells. "He came with other variants of me. They're evil. They only live to kill." You want to believe him, you really do. But the Mark against the wall is in so much pain. And if he wanted to kill you...why didn't he? Without thinking, you begin to move to the two Marks.

"Let him go, Mark," You say. Your Mark glares at you.

"Seriously? Did you not hear what I said?" His words are harsh, but his voice sounds hurt. "He'll kill you! What? Just because we're broken up, you'll be with another version of me! I'm trying to save you!"

"I know what you said!" Your anger scares both Marks. Neither of them have ever known you to raise your voice before. "Let him go, please." You say quieter. Your Mark curses under his breath before letting the imposter go. The Other Mark sinks to the floor, gasping for breath and holding his neck. He looks up to you. He crawls on the ground and hugs your legs.

"I'm sorry," He cries. "Please! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! Please forgive me!" You look back at Your Mark who's standing behind you with his arms crossed. He scoffs and turns away from you. You look back down to the Mark on the floor.

"It's...it's okay," You reassure him. "I'm safe, remember. I'm not hurt." The Other Mark nods his head.

"Yes, you're safe," He repeats. "I'll make sure you'll always be safe." A rush of wind hurls past you. Before you can even blink, the Other Mark is standing on the other side of the room with his hand balled in a fist. Your Mark holds his chest. Blood gushes from his mouth, and he falls to the ground.

Your eyes widen in shock. You're sure you screamed, but you can't hear anything. You rush to your ex-boyfriend's side, kneeling beside him. Blood quickly pools around him.

"Mark? Mark!" You scream. The Other Mark lifts you from the ground.

"Don't do that," He says, his voice strangely calm. "You could get an infection. What if you got sick? Do you want me to be alone again?" You struggle to get out of his grasp, but he won't budge. He floats above the ground and flies the both of you out of your window. You beat against his body in protest as you scream for Your Mark.

"It's okay, (Y/N)," The Other Mark says. "You're safe with me now."

[muqingslover]

[ Pushing my virgin Caleb agenda again yippieeeee. God he's such a loser I love him. Thinking about making a masterlist but im a full-time procrastinator lmfao ]

Virgin!Caleb who has zero sexual experience but is the textbook definition of sexual frustration. This man is about to snap in more ways than one.

Virgin!Caleb who during his teen years had to deal with his raging hormones and finally caved and searched for porn one night. He couldn't care less about the content itself only that the person MUST look like you, bonus point if their voice sounded similar to yours.

Virgin!Caleb who feels incredibly guilty each time he cums using your clothes but he can't stop himself from burying his nose into the soft fabric of your coat as his other hand quickly moves up and down his dripping cock— By the gods, you just smell so fucking heavenly.

Virgin!Caleb who wants to try everything at least once (as long as it doesn't hurt you) because he simply can't get enough of you and your body. Of all the LIs I think he's the most open to pegging but that's a topic for another day muehehehe

Virgin!Caleb who watches you sleep like a creep and notices your shirt riding up while you laid comfortably on your stomach. His eyes trail down to your exposed skin, body growing uncomfortably hot and causing him to shift the way he's sitting on the edge of the bed. He wonders...Would you squirm if he brushed his fingertips down your back? Would you tell him to stop? Or would you let him move lower? Would you let him slip his hands under the waistband of your shorts to feel your soft thighs and press against the thin fabric of your underwear, that would surely be wet by now— ....Yep, he definitely needs an extra cold shower tonight.

Virgin!Caleb who gets nosebleeds every freaking time you do or say something his dirty, loser mind considers as too much to handle. I will die on this hill if I have to listen to mE HE GETS NOSEBLEEDS AND IT'S SO HOT BELIEVE ME ! !

Virgin!Caleb who tries to keep his composure after he accidentally caught you grinding into a pillow and whining so good. He knows he should leave, that this is beyond immoral, but his body won't listen and honestly it's not like he really tried all that much.

Virgin!Caleb who is now leaning against the wall next to your door as he ignored his throbbing boner straining against his tight pants, trying to imagine that your pretty moans were because of him instead. How he wished he could just walk in there and taste you. To mark you as his so no one else would even dare to look at you. To keep you locked in his room, safe and healthy, while he spent his day buried into your soft little hole until either of you were unable to form a coherent thought.

Virgin!Caleb who had to cover his mouth to prevent your name from spilling out when his climax hit him and he made a mess in his own pants without even touching himself, sliding down the wall after his shaky knees gave out. Oh yeah, he's in biiiig trouble.

[ivycopper]

I think you're fundamentally misunderstanding the premise of this convo. My point is not "let yourself want good things". My point is abt the language we use as ppl who already want Good Things (tm).

So all I did was stress that we need to please please please not act words like "alternate universe" or, as some ppl other than did, "utopia" when talking abt things that exist in some places of the world. And I didn't blame OP, bc I get it. I really do.

I told you why that's important. And I hold myself to that standard. Like for example, until last yr, changing your gender marker required a costly court case and a number of deeply humiliating examinations and several psychologist's reports in my country. And there seemed to be no change in sight, so I was very tempted to talk abt it as if it's not attainable. But I didn't, bc Ik the less we believe it can happen over here, the more likely it is to get scrapped again elsewhere. I mean, you guys know first hand how quickly it can happen. (And I fucking wish I could offer my fellow trans ppl from the US more than my sympathy.)

Ik you care, how could you not! I don't doubt for a second so many of you fight hard for progress. I'm solely talking abt changing our rhetoric surrounding the topic, shifting it away from the irrealis. In online spaces, all we have is our words.

I'm not passing judgement on OP or any of the commenters. There's no moral failure here, oc there isn't.

What I don't understand is why you're opposed to making this point on here? Discourse abt activist rhetoric only makes sense in activist spaces. That's where it belongs.

I didn't call you a prick - you did. I only concurred, mirroring your tone. I'm sure that if you hold your horses a bit and try to understand where I'm coming from, you're probably a cool person I agree with on many levels.

It's funny to me that you seem to assume I don't fight for these things irl. I do. In fact, I'm becoming a teacher bc I want to work directly with disadvantaged students. I do charity work with kids. I'm baffled where that assumption comes from and how it relates to my initial reply. Bc, as I said: We have got free access to education here, so Idek what I would be calling my local representatives abt? And I obviously can't call your local representatives? (Btw, "local representatives" are not a thing with this kind of topic here. Germany is a highly bureaucratic country, and the education system in particular is extremely intransparent, which is partly why I'll have to go into teaching to have any sort of influence on things, however miniscule. Things move a lot faster over where you are, for better or worse. That was a bit of US defaultism there, but that's an aside, and I'm not mad abt that.)

Alternate universe where I literally just to go to school forever (for free) so I can just learn about art and literature and history and languages for 100 years. No job skills. No credit requirements. No student loans. Just learning.

[starrynightarchive]

hi guys on today's episode of "vi can't be normal about one piece" we are talking about the insane parallels between zeff and sanji and luffy

guys. guys this is happening exactly as both zeff and (adult) sanji give up on their dream. zeff is at this point all but given up on the all blue and sanji now has resigned himself to the fact that he has to die to save the crew.

enter: the ones that fight for their dreams kicking screaming. stubborn and relentless.

look at this scene. this fucking scene. the blood in sanji's face and how stubborn he is about not giving up on his dream. he will not let it end here. he will weave the strings of fate himself if he has to. he will drag himself through hell. he will not give up. it doesn't end here.

this is so fucked up. luffy is fighting for his dream when he has given up on it. he is thinking "sanji can't be strong for himself now, so i will be strong for him. i will save him. from everyone waiting to harm him and from himself." sanji has buried the kid in him that longs to find the all blue and here we see luffy dig the ground the child lies in with bare hands. he will not let it end. not here. not now.

this is what kept him alive. zeff's sacrifice. zeff's gamble and belief that this kid that he doesn't even know will find the all blue. that he will do what he couldn't. now what makes this scene so important is the two ways this can be seen. in zeff's eyes, it's his choice. he chose to save sanji with no prior knowledge about anything about him because whatever he saw in sanji at that moment in the ship, he wanted to keep alive. it is an ultimately selfish motive. is it kind? yes, definitely. but it's not selfless. the other way you can see this through sanji's eyes. sanji, who has been told all he is is a burden and that his life is worthless is now being kept alive by a man who he doesn't even know. he has thrown his life away for sanji. sanji looks at it like this: "zeff is a kind man. he helped me because he couldn't let a child starve. what he did for me is an obligation where he was forced into a corner." sanji interprets this as an altruistic action and that he is now indebted to him forever.

luffy didn't sacrifice a leg for sanji, but he was ready to die. he KNEW he wouldn't, though. because he knows sanji and his bleeding heart and his love. once again, sanji and his dream is saved by another person starving for him. the main thing that distinguishes this scene from the zeff one is that this was a choice, without doubt. luffy KNOWS sanji. he has seen the ugliest parts of sanji and he still loves him. he is ready to give up his life for sanji with no ulterior motive. he doesn't want sanji to carry on his dream or do anything for him. he knows what sanji wants, but after this scene, he still asks. "what does sanji want?" he pulls the truth out of the hollows of his chest. he doesn't flinch at what he sees there. he sees sanji's hunger, want and kindness so vast that it can even be considered naive. he doesn't flinch. he simply smiles.

[demonic0angel]

Hi. Uhhh I thought this ask was funny so…

At some sort of event where both the bat fam and the phantom siblings are there. (How they’d know each other is up to you) one of the phantom siblings drops a bombshell about their lore and they continue on like it didn’t happen. But the one to do it isn’t one of the Dannys or Dan it’s Jazz. Cause Jazz is just as feral as the other three and I need to see it. Cause she is Danny “I like to drop lore bombs on people over dinner.” Feton’s sister.

I thought this was funny so uh here. *Shoves ask on a silver platter at you and runs away.*

(*eats the ask so fast that I choke on the platter like a seagull that doesn't know its limits*)

They all congregated around the food table, chatting and gossiping.

"Did you see that fucking haircut?" Jason said with a snicker. "His parents don't give a fuck about him."

"Not a single goddamn bit," Steph said.

Bruce hummed. "That's not very nice," he said, though he looked like he agreed wholeheartedly.

Dani leaned in and asked, "Which one is the one who tried starting a gang in Crime Alley but couldn't because she was a nepo baby and everyone was too embarrassed to join her even though she had a lot of money?"

Tim chuckled and pointed. "That one."

Danny laughed. "Hah! I can't even imagine that! No one joined, even though she had money?"

Jason joined him, almost cackling. "Right?! She has a reputation of being bad luck in business too, it's literally a thing. She sank three different companies before no one bothered hiring her, so when she made a gang, no one joined."

"And in Crime Alley? It's literally a meme now," Stephanie said with a grin.

"Can't imagine starting something and failing because no one wanted to follow me," Jazz said then, an amused smile on her face.

"Yeah," Dani snorted. "Because you successfully created a cult in Danny's name."

It was like a record scratch as everyone paused, but none of the Nightingales noticed, continuing on.

Danny groaned. "Don't remind me! I can't believe it became so popular that it's the most practiced religion amongst the dead! Do you know how embarrassed I feel when one of my worshippers come up to me and start kissing my hands?!"

Jazz beamed. "I'm a very good cult leader."

"Until I had to overthrow you for it," Danny snarked back.

Jazz continued, "Still, I had a good run being Queen Regent of the Infinite Realms until that happened, right?"

"The second only human in a seat of power within the Ghost Zone and also the only human to have completely changed the laws of the Infinite Realms? I'd say it's pretty good," Dani mused.

The rest of the Waynes & Co. stared at them in shock and confusion. None of the Nightingales seemed to think it was strange that Jazz Fenton, one of the Arkham psychiatrist and sister of Phantom, was a cult leader. And a successful one too.

Stephanie looked around and then asked, "So I'm not hallucinating this conversation, right?"

[iqxatlantic]

" YOUR WHITE MUSTANG ! "

multi chara drabble :3

ft. michael kaiser (a) . alexis ness (a) . yoichi isagi (f) . meguru bachira (a) . reo mikage (a?) . nagi seishiro (a?) . itoshi rin (a) . itoshi sae . possibly ooc! characters . implied afab! reader . desperate! reader . jealous! reader (?) . open ending . isagi's lwk suggestive . aged-up charas . fluff (?) . angst (?) . ex! characters (?) . basically toxic men figuring they fricked up . not proof read . unreliable narrator .

michael kaiser who's had you trailing constantly like a dog. constant chasing, chasing and chasing. he knew you'd keep crawling back. and he was right. when he cut things off with you, you were still at his soccer games, etc etc. it kinda hurt him. after the match, he found you in front of him. muttering soft words, "mihya. one more chance. you're why i'm staying." (this can be seen as roles switched)

alexis ness who's the polar opposite role. he's crawling back to you and begging you to stay. he was still under the influence that you two were together, he can't understand why you left :c "[name]," the magician would sob at your feet. "i wan' you back! staay. please. please please." pleads (un) fortunately hasn't fell deaf to your ears.

yoichi isagi who's such a sweetie — he'd cuddle up with you. he's going insane with how your plush thighs are hugging him tightly! >v< oh and your arms too. "please don't get tired of me [name]," "please don't get tired of me, yoi-!" the both of you said in sync, giggling as you both melted into each other's embrace. :3

meguru bachira whos a big fat freaking sunshine. clingy as hell too — can't blame the boy he grew up different (and no friends yikes me too bachi) obviously, he can't leave you be! it was okay until it wasn't. why was he clinging onto someone else? jealous, you confronted him and he does it again. and again. over and over. you slowly lost hope in the both of you.

"megs, we're breaking up." you'd state. bachira felt his heart shatter. the one person he thought that wouldn't leave him actually left him. he took your trust, kindness and love for granted. "wait- [name]! wha- what'd i do wrong?! please don't leave, dont leave like everyone else! i can't be alone again!"

reo mikage is a man whom everyone loves. he's charismatic, gorgeous, wealthy and outgoing, who wouldn't love him? it was you who would eventually stop loving him. well, forcing yourself to stop love him. thing is — you really can't really move on if you truly loved the person. all it required was one glance at them and then, bam. all the memories flood back.

"oh. mikage," you'd mumble at his family's company was displayed on top billboard like it was a curse. speak of the devil, guess who's there. reo mikage. you were kind of surprised. 'f course he's with a hurdle of women and men again. something about his gaze was odd. he wasn't looking around you. he was looking directly at you.

"[name]!" reo would call out, a demanding yet soft call. you stare at his figure for a hot minute. realizing he was getting closer. you didn't know why you ran. or why you stayed. after all, his actions didn't hurt him. it hurt you.

nagi seishiro is quite a lazy man. no wonder why reo was so confuckled when he found out nagi was in a relationship. reo would constantly warn you, "don't get attached, he'll hurt you. as his best friend — i know." you didn't believe reo. i mean, c'mon! he was just a best friend (they lwk more than that imho but ykw shhh) nothing more, he'd never understand.

maybe you should've listened. tears rolling down your cheeks as you're cursing out the gray eyed man. "why get into a fucking relationship when you can't even maintain yourself?!" you yelled, inhaling sharply. at that moment — nagi seishiro for the first (not first bc reo but ykwim) time realized how damn neglectful he is.

"wait. [name]. you're not a hassle. i love you, i can try changing." nagi retorts back, sternly. "[name]. i love you." nagi repeated again, with a more desperate tone this time. so act like it. "seishiro.." you'd mumble. he lit up with joy. would he be dawned by a continuation of joy or would it be regret flooding through him?

itoshi rin, the man everyone fawns over. c'mon he's gorgeous, can't blame 'em. there was this one particular girl. you envied her. beauty, body, brains. yeah. it was a definitive loss. he would choose her.

oh! no. the itoshi chose you instead! huh... wonder why... turns out, that girl you envied? yeah. she was nowhere to be seen. slowly, you noticed, rin didn't have time for you. shit was so bad sae had to check up.

the moment you found out rin was cheating, at that point.. you didn't care. you knew there wasn't an ounce of love for you. it was just rin projecting the things he would do with that girl. it didn't hurt as much when you confronted him. you knew what was going on anways.

rin however, began to slowly comprehend you were the one he was longing for. too bad too sad, he practically missed his chance to redeem himself. "wait, wait! [name]!" he desperately begged. "wait, please. i love you. it's you i want. relationships are a waste of time but you aren't! i wanna be with you forever!" huh. strange words coming out the itoshi's mouth.

you stared at him. on his knees. gripping onto your arm at a rather painful grip. fuck, your skin was going pale. "[name], i don't care what i lose. i jus' don't wanna lose you!" rin sobbed, voice quivering. continuing to look down at him, you opened your mouth to reply.

itoshi sae. the prodigy. adored for how much of a genius he is. skills. yeah check. beauty? check. he had no business for a relationship — obviously, you'd be seen as a second priority. cute how you even think you are a priority. the moment you couldn't deal with the neglect (heh neglect like u got when u were a kid? me too bae x) you tried to break things off with him.

problem was, he wouldn't let you (well he has to at one point but let the plot flow.) "sae. i'm clearly not a priority, so let me go. it can't be that hard," you'd slip out. yeah. pure venom. you weren't even trying to be mean!

suddenly the prodigy was in your position, sobbing, begging, whimpering for you to give him a second chance or for him to stay. that's funny.

tags ! : @kyvkc, @narcjsistx (MAYA COMEG ET UR MAN REO HE'S WEIRD T_T), @twijaxx ♡ (holy moly! ness and nagi?!?!), @kxsagi (COME GET UR MAN ISAGI YEAHHH)

a/n: hi. i'm back huzzah!! unfortunately had to give less to kaiser bc that fine specimen of a man takes up half my posts. i got like 10k drafts abt him i hate his bitchass 🖕🖕 he pisses me off frfr (no he doesnt he's deadass my comfort character im losing my shit) r we even surprised this isnt proofread i swear ill be more active one day </3 rin was hardass projectijg holy😭 tried to do lana's white mustang song analysis.. im in desperate need of a whole DETOX. ;-; everything is actually ugh... i can't even #blamingitonaman😝😝😝 jokes i take responsibilities...or is it accountability?? idk at least i didn't play someone ugh pmo pmo pmo anyways notice how isagis only the healthy one here lowkey yeah bc my boy is healthy (jokes i actually barely had any angst for this guy bruh) like ugh i swear ill slide in some angst abt this man one day anyways take care babes x don't waste time on situationships they mean jackSHIT

[brazenautomaton]

okay so you sort of answered the question but it was with a bunch of things that aren't true and that you made up so you could insult people. the things you said are not true. I need you to at least be capable of recognizing you are talking to someone who believes the things you said are not true, and so you can't just smugly repeat them as if appealing to universal truth. can you do that?

blaming people who want "strong borders" for the abuses of ICE is like blaming people who want robbery be illegal for the abuses of the American prison system. the solution is not to legalize robbery. it's to stop pointlessly torturing people. the blame does not rest on those who want robbery to be illegal, the blame rests on the guys pointlessly torturing people. there are too many people who look at it and take the position "well you shouldn't have broken the law" even when that isn't what happens, and that still doesn't mean the solution is to legalize robbery.

the people who want a border wall want the thing that prevents there from being a persistent underclass. I've said this like five times and your claim that they actually don't want it is the first time you've even kind of acknowledged that point. you've pointed out ways that someone could run afoul of immigration law even with a border wall, but that doesn't change the fact that a border wall does not create an underclass and the things that it does prevent an underclass by preventing people from entering who aren't interfaced with the government. if someone has an expired visa or doesn't have an expired visa but some shithead at ICE wants to fuck with them, this is not a situation that was aggravated by a "strong border" unless you claim "literally any enforcement of immigration law whatsoever" is a strong border; since you know that is not the definition anyone else is using this would be a blatant and knowing lie.

everything you said about "they want to maintain a caste system" is wrong. it is made up. it is false. it is not true. you heard it from other progressives in a signaling death spiral. stop repeating it as if it was universal truth because it's false. the enforcement of a border prevents the thing you are talking about. I need you to understand that and I'm not convinced you do. The existence of a stratified social system is created by people entering the country illegally and preventing people from entering the country illegally prevents it from happening. You have no basis for saying that people who want strong borders actually want people to enter illegally other than the fact that it's an insulting accusation towards people you hate.

Every person who justifies ICE, every person who didn't read the article and says that this was fair, all of them have something in common: they want the people caught and detained by ICE to leave the country. They do not say "Those illegal immigrants who I hate so much should have to pick tomatoes!" They want them to be kicked out of the country. There is nothing you can point to to indicate they secretly want illegal immigrants to stay in the country and work as a slave caste, other than the fact you hate them and want to insult them.

In the United States there are a lot of people who support having a large underclass of illegal immigrants who have less rights than citizens. They're called "the Democrats." The fact that illegal immigrants can be paid far less than minimum wage is an extremely common talking point against border enforcement. They say that "hardworking undocumented migrants" are willing to do jobs American citizens are unwilling to do, and that's why they should be allowed to stay. The only people in this discussion who have ever come out in support of a caste system are the people who are against border enforcement. I need you to know that, argumate. Can you repeat that back to me so I know that you know it?

Story below the cut to avoid a paywall.

There was no explanation, no warning. One minute, I was in an immigration office talking to an officer about my work visa, which had been approved months before and allowed me, a Canadian, to work in the US. The next, I was told to put my hands against the wall, and patted down like a criminal before being sent to an Ice detention center without the chance to talk to a lawyer.

I grew up in Whitehorse, Yukon, a small town in the northernmost part of Canada. I always knew I wanted to do something bigger with my life. I left home early and moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, where I built a career spanning multiple industries – acting in film and television, owning bars and restaurants, flipping condos and managing Airbnbs.

In my 30s, I found my true passion working in the health and wellness industry. I was given the opportunity to help launch an American brand of health tonics called Holy! Water – a job that would involve moving to the US.

I was granted my trade Nafta work visa, which allows Canadian and Mexican citizens to work in the US in specific professional occupations, on my second attempt. It goes without saying, then, that I have no criminal record. I also love the US and consider myself to be a kind, hard-working person.

I started working in California and travelled back and forth between Canada and the US multiple times without any complications – until one day, upon returning to the US, a border officer questioned me about my initial visa denial and subsequent visa approval. He asked why I had gone to the San Diego border the second time to apply. I explained that that was where my lawyer’s offices were, and that he had wanted to accompany me to ensure there were no issues.

After a long interrogation, the officer told me it seemed “shady” and that my visa hadn’t been properly processed. He claimed I also couldn’t work for a company in the US that made use of hemp – one of the beverage ingredients. He revoked my visa, and told me I could still work for the company from Canada, but if I wanted to return to the US, I would need to reapply.

I was devastated; I had just started building a life in California. I stayed in Canada for the next few months, and was eventually offered a similar position with a different health and wellness brand.

I restarted the visa process and returned to the same immigration office at the San Diego border, since they had processed my visa before and I was familiar with it. Hours passed, with many confused opinions about my case. The officer I spoke to was kind but told me that, due to my previous issues, I needed to apply for my visa through the consulate. I told her I hadn’t been aware I needed to apply that way, but had no problem doing it.

Then she said something strange: “You didn’t do anything wrong. You are not in trouble, you are not a criminal.”

I remember thinking: Why would she say that? Of course I’m not a criminal!

She then told me they had to send me back to Canada. That didn’t concern me; I assumed I would simply book a flight home. But as I sat searching for flights, a man approached me.

“Come with me,” he said.

There was no explanation, no warning. He led me to a room, took my belongings from my hands and ordered me to put my hands against the wall. A woman immediately began patting me down. The commands came rapid-fire, one after another, too fast to process.

They took my shoes and pulled out my shoelaces.

“What are you doing? What is happening?” I asked.

“You are being detained.”

“I don’t understand. What does that mean? For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

That would be the response to nearly every question I would ask over the next two weeks: “I don’t know.”

They brought me downstairs for a series of interviews and medical questions, searched my bags and told me I had to get rid of half my belongings because I couldn’t take everything with me.

“Take everything with me where?” I asked.

A woman asked me for the name of someone they could contact on my behalf. In moments like this, you realize you don’t actually know anyone’s phone number anymore. By some miracle, I had recently memorized my best friend Britt’s number because I had been putting my grocery points on her account.

I gave them her phone number.

They handed me a mat and a folded-up sheet of aluminum foil.

“What is this?”

“Your blanket.”

“I don’t understand.”

I was taken to a tiny, freezing cement cell with bright fluorescent lights and a toilet. There were five other women lying on their mats with the aluminum sheets wrapped over them, looking like dead bodies. The guard locked the door behind me.

For two days, we remained in that cell, only leaving briefly for food. The lights never turned off, we never knew what time it was and no one answered our questions. No one in the cell spoke English, so I either tried to sleep or meditate to keep from having a breakdown. I didn’t trust the food, so I fasted, assuming I wouldn’t be there long.

On the third day, I was finally allowed to make a phone call. I called Britt and told her that I didn’t understand what was happening, that no one would tell me when I was going home, and that she was my only contact.

They gave me a stack of paperwork to sign and told me I was being given a five-year ban unless I applied for re-entry through the consulate. The officer also said it didn’t matter whether I signed the papers or not; it was happening regardless.

I was so delirious that I just signed. I told them I would pay for my flight home and asked when I could leave.

No answer.

Then they moved me to another cell – this time with no mat or blanket. I sat on the freezing cement floor for hours. That’s when I realized they were processing me into real jail: the Otay Mesa Detention Center.

I was told to shower, given a jail uniform, fingerprinted and interviewed. I begged for information.

“How long will I be here?”

“I don’t know your case,” the man said. “Could be days. Could be weeks. But I’m telling you right now – you need to mentally prepare yourself for months.”

Months.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

I was taken to the nurse’s office for a medical check. She asked what had happened to me. She had never seen a Canadian there before. When I told her my story, she grabbed my hand and said: “Do you believe in God?”

I told her I had only recently found God, but that I now believed in God more than anything.

“I believe God brought you here for a reason,” she said. “I know it feels like your life is in a million pieces, but you will be OK. Through this, I think you are going to find a way to help others.”

At the time, I didn’t know what that meant. She asked if she could pray for me. I held her hands and wept.

I felt like I had been sent an angel.

I was then placed in a real jail unit: two levels of cells surrounding a common area, just like in the movies. I was put in a tiny cell alone with a bunk bed and a toilet.

The best part: there were blankets. After three days without one, I wrapped myself in mine and finally felt some comfort.

For the first day, I didn’t leave my cell. I continued fasting, terrified that the food might make me sick. The only available water came from the tap attached to the toilet in our cells or a sink in the common area, neither of which felt safe to drink.

Eventually, I forced myself to step out, meet the guards and learn the rules. One of them told me: “No fighting.”

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” I joked. He laughed.

I asked if there had ever been a fight here.

“In this unit? No,” he said. “No one in this unit has a criminal record.”

That’s when I started meeting the other women.

That’s when I started hearing their stories.

And that’s when I made a decision: I would never allow myself to feel sorry for my situation again. No matter how hard this was, I had to be grateful. Because every woman I met was in an even more difficult position than mine.

There were around 140 of us in our unit. Many women had lived and worked in the US legally for years but had overstayed their visas – often after reapplying and being denied. They had all been detained without warning.

If someone is a criminal, I agree they should be taken off the streets. But not one of these women had a criminal record. These women acknowledged that they shouldn’t have overstayed and took responsibility for their actions. But their frustration wasn’t about being held accountable; it was about the endless, bureaucratic limbo they had been trapped in.

The real issue was how long it took to get out of the system, with no clear answers, no timeline and no way to move forward. Once deported, many have no choice but to abandon everything they own because the cost of shipping their belongings back is too high.

I met a woman who had been on a road trip with her husband. She said they had 10-year work visas. While driving near the San Diego border, they mistakenly got into a lane leading to Mexico. They stopped and told the agent they didn’t have their passports on them, expecting to be redirected. Instead, they were detained. They are both pastors.

I met a family of three who had been living in the US for 11 years with work authorizations. They paid taxes and were waiting for their green cards. Every year, the mother had to undergo a background check, but this time, she was told to bring her whole family. When they arrived, they were taken into custody and told their status would now be processed from within the detention center.

Another woman from Canada had been living in the US with her husband who was detained after a traffic stop. She admitted she had overstayed her visa and accepted that she would be deported. But she had been stuck in the system for almost six weeks because she hadn’t had her passport. Who runs casual errands with their passport?

One woman had a 10-year visa. When it expired, she moved back to her home country, Venezuela. She admitted she had overstayed by one month before leaving. Later, she returned for a vacation and entered the US without issue. But when she took a domestic flight from Miami to Los Angeles, she was picked up by Ice and detained. She couldn’t be deported because Venezuela wasn’t accepting deportees. She didn’t know when she was getting out.

There was a girl from India who had overstayed her student visa for three days before heading back home. She then came back to the US on a new, valid visa to finish her master’s degree and was handed over to Ice due to the three days she had overstayed on her previous visa.

There were women who had been picked up off the street, from outside their workplaces, from their homes. All of these women told me that they had been detained for time spans ranging from a few weeks to 10 months. One woman’s daughter was outside the detention center protesting for her release.

That night, the pastor invited me to a service she was holding. A girl who spoke English translated for me as the women took turns sharing their prayers – prayers for their sick parents, for the children they hadn’t seen in weeks, for the loved ones they had been torn away from.

Then, unexpectedly, they asked if they could pray for me. I was new here, and they wanted to welcome me. They formed a circle around me, took my hands and prayed. I had never felt so much love, energy and compassion from a group of strangers in my life. Everyone was crying.

At 3am the next day, I was woken up in my cell.

“Pack your bag. You’re leaving.”

I jolted upright. “I get to go home?”

The officer shrugged. “I don’t know where you’re going.”

Of course. No one ever knew anything.

I grabbed my things and went downstairs, where 10 other women stood in silence, tears streaming down their faces. But these weren’t happy tears. That was the moment I learned the term “transferred”.

For many of these women, detention centers had become a twisted version of home. They had formed bonds, established routines and found slivers of comfort in the friendships they had built. Now, without warning, they were being torn apart and sent somewhere new. Watching them say goodbye, clinging to each other, was gut-wrenching.

I had no idea what was waiting for me next. In hindsight, that was probably for the best.

Our next stop was Arizona, the San Luis Regional Detention Center. The transfer process lasted 24 hours, a sleepless, grueling ordeal. This time, men were transported with us. Roughly 50 of us were crammed into a prison bus for the next five hours, packed together – women in the front, men in the back. We were bound in chains that wrapped tightly around our waists, with our cuffed hands secured to our bodies and shackles restraining our feet, forcing every movement into a slow, clinking struggle.

When we arrived at our next destination, we were forced to go through the entire intake process all over again, with medical exams, fingerprinting – and pregnancy tests; they lined us up in a filthy cell, squatting over a communal toilet, holding Dixie cups of urine while the nurse dropped pregnancy tests in each of our cups. It was disgusting.

We sat in freezing-cold jail cells for hours, waiting for everyone to be processed. Across the room, one of the women suddenly spotted her husband. They had both been detained and were now seeing each other for the first time in weeks.

The look on her face – pure love, relief and longing – was something I’ll never forget.

We were beyond exhausted. I felt like I was hallucinating.

The guard tossed us each a blanket: “Find a bed.”

There were no pillows. The room was ice cold, and one blanket wasn’t enough. Around me, women lay curled into themselves, heads covered, looking like a room full of corpses. This place made the last jail feel like the Four Seasons.

I kept telling myself: Do not let this break you.

Thirty of us shared one room. We were given one Styrofoam cup for water and one plastic spoon that we had to reuse for every meal. I eventually had to start trying to eat and, sure enough, I got sick. None of the uniforms fit, and everyone had men’s shoes on. The towels they gave us to shower were hand towels. They wouldn’t give us more blankets. The fluorescent lights shined on us 24/7.

Everything felt like it was meant to break you. Nothing was explained to us. I wasn’t given a phone call. We were locked in a room, no daylight, with no idea when we would get out.

I tried to stay calm as every fiber of my being raged towards panic mode. I didn’t know how I would tell Britt where I was. Then, as if sent from God, one of the women showed me a tablet attached to the wall where I could send emails. I only remembered my CEO’s email from memory. I typed out a message, praying he would see it.

He responded.

Through him, I was able to connect with Britt. She told me that they were working around the clock trying to get me out. But no one had any answers; the system made it next to impossible. I told her about the conditions in this new place, and that was when we decided to go to the media.

She started working with a reporter and asked whether I would be able to call her so she could loop him in. The international phone account that Britt had previously tried to set up for me wasn’t working, so one of the other women offered to let me use her phone account to make the call.

We were all in this together.

With nothing to do in my cell but talk, I made new friends – women who had risked everything for the chance at a better life for themselves and their families.

Through them, I learned the harsh reality of seeking asylum. Showing me their physical scars, they explained how they had paid smugglers anywhere from $20,000 to $60,000 to reach the US border, enduring brutal jungles and horrendous conditions.

One woman had been offered asylum in Mexico within two weeks but had been encouraged to keep going to the US. Now, she was stuck, living in a nightmare, separated from her young children for months. She sobbed, telling me how she felt like the worst mother in the world.

Many of these women were highly educated and spoke multiple languages. Yet, they had been advised to pretend they didn’t speak English because it would supposedly increase their chances of asylum.

Some believed they were being used as examples, as warnings to others not to try to come.

Women were starting to panic in this new facility, and knowing I was most likely the first person to get out, they wrote letters and messages for me to send to their families.

It felt like we had all been kidnapped, thrown into some sort of sick psychological experiment meant to strip us of every ounce of strength and dignity.

We were from different countries, spoke different languages and practiced different religions. Yet, in this place, none of that mattered. Everyone took care of each other. Everyone shared food. Everyone held each other when someone broke down. Everyone fought to keep each other’s hope alive.

I got a message from Britt. My story had started to blow up in the media.

Almost immediately after, I was told I was being released.

My Ice agent, who had never spoken to me, told my lawyer I could have left sooner if I had signed a withdrawal form, and that they hadn’t known I would pay for my own flight home.

From the moment I arrived, I begged every officer I saw to let me pay for my own ticket home. Not a single one of them ever spoke to me about my case.

To put things into perspective: I had a Canadian passport, lawyers, resources, media attention, friends, family and even politicians advocating for me. Yet, I was still detained for nearly two weeks.

Imagine what this system is like for every other person in there.

A small group of us were transferred back to San Diego at 2am – one last road trip, once again shackled in chains. I was then taken to the airport, where two officers were waiting for me. The media was there, so the officers snuck me in through a side door, trying to avoid anyone seeing me in restraints. I was beyond grateful that, at the very least, I didn’t have to walk through the airport in chains.

To my surprise, the officers escorting me were incredibly kind, and even funny. It was the first time I had laughed in weeks.

I asked if I could put my shoelaces back on.

“Yes,” one of them said with a grin. “But you better not run.”

“Yeah,” the other added. “Or we’ll have to tackle you in the airport. That’ll really make the headlines.”

I laughed, then told them I had spent a lot of time observing the guards during my detention and I couldn’t believe how often I saw humans treating other humans with such disregard. “But don’t worry,” I joked. “You two get five stars.”

When I finally landed in Canada, my mom and two best friends were waiting for me. So was the media. I spoke to them briefly, numb and delusional from exhaustion.

It was surreal listening to my friends recount everything they had done to get me out: working with lawyers, reaching out to the media, making endless calls to detention centers, desperately trying to get through to Ice or anyone who could help. They said the entire system felt rigged, designed to make it nearly impossible for anyone to get out.

The reality became clear: Ice detention isn’t just a bureaucratic nightmare. It’s a business. These facilities are privately owned and run for profit.

Companies like CoreCivic and GEO Group receive government funding based on the number of people they detain, which is why they lobby for stricter immigration policies. It’s a lucrative business: CoreCivic made over $560m from Ice contracts in a single year. In 2024, GEO Group made more than $763m from Ice contracts.

The more detainees, the more money they make. It stands to reason that these companies have no incentive to release people quickly. What I had experienced was finally starting to make sense.

[the-kr8tor]

May I req a fic about Hobie and reader going out on a first date? Like I'm talking NERVOUS HOBIE

Ofc we get that princess treatment though:3

Thank you for requesting! I hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), pining, a bit of loser! Hobie, established relationship, CW food mentions, fluff!

Navigation

When Hobie asked you out on a date, you thought that the usual flirty and nonchalant Hobie would hand you flowers or even chocolates. What you're carrying right now begs to differ. The box of garden grown onions, tomatoes, and eggplants he handed to you on your doorstep were unusual to be given to your date, yes, but it has you giggling and flustered nonetheless. They look plump and healthy, better than anything you've seen in groceries.

“I thought you'd like them instead of store bought flowers.” He says as he scratches the back of his neck nervously when you haven't answered him after he gave you his present. “I tried plantin’ flowers— your favourites but they're still buds.”

You can't believe the same suave man who asked you out all smoothly is standing before you with his hands in his pockets and eyes turned away from you. And he planted your favourite flower too? What did you do in your past life to deserve such a sweet man to give you even the time of day?

“No—no, I love them!” You suddenly exclaim. The sad disappointed expression on his face has you stepping down the doorway to his side, eyes shining with a wobbly shy smile. “Thank you, Hobie.” You want to engulf him in your arms if not for the lovely present in between you.

Hobie sighs in relief, eyes gazing at your necklace before he roams his eyes back to your flustered face. You clutch the box against your chest, it's getting heavier by the second as you both stand there like awkward crushing teenagers.

“Really?” You nod at his bewilderment. “I mean— that's good, that's fuckin' mint— ‘m chuffed, love.”

“I've been meaning to buy vegetables, but the prices have been horrendous these days.” You struggle to hold onto it, cardboard sliding down from your arms. Hobie takes the memo, grabbing underneath it, hand accidentally grasping your own as he slides the box over to him easily. The skin where he briefly touched feels like it's on fire. In a good way.

Hobie cradles it in one arm as he smiles at you sweetly. “Fuckin' tariffs.”

You nod with a chuckle. “Fucking tariffs.”

You two share an affectionate look for what seemed like forever. The city noise is muffled in your ears, and the people walking along your street fades away in your vision. It's just you and Hobie, and his vegetables.

“Shall we?” You ask with a tilted head, hands placed behind you as you nervously fidget with the ribbon on your dress. The outfit took days of decision making, after speaking to the council (your friends) you settled on a simple baby blue summer dress, that you've accidentally matched with his denim jacket. “You can leave the box inside, unless you want to lug it around the city?” You joke with a barely tamped down shyness.

Hobie shakes his head with a chortle. “Yeah— I'd look like your personal shopper instead of your date.”

Date, you still can't believe after ten whole months of pining after him that he would feel the same, that he would ask you out. Never in a million years you thought that he'd even look at you with the same fondness that you sport whenever you gaze at him across the fluorescent light coated office.

You give him a bashful chuckle, taking the box again to quickly place it on the kitchen counter. “I'll put it away for you.”

Hobie doesn't waste time in pulling the box towards him again before you could even hold it properly. “Nah, love, let me do it. Can't have my date strugglin’ now, hm?”

“The kitchen's ten steps away from here.” Your eyes crinkle at the corners as he playfully rolls his eyes.

“I won't be liable if you break your back.” He shrugs, tapping your foot with his own. He has been at your place a couple of times for drinks with friends, but never alone. It fills him with a dizzying giddiness and nerves that comes with a proper first date.

“Okay, fine, big strong man, you do it.” Standing to the side, you give him space so he could close the small distance towards the tiny kitchen island you bought off of marketplace.

“Ungrateful.” He mutters teasingly with a lilt in his tone. Even (gently) shoulder checking you as he enters the flat.

You fake a gasp, cupping your ‘wounded’ shoulder. “My date is rude.”

Hobie grins from ear to ear as he slides the box over to the counter as you ogle him from behind. The jeans he's wearing fits him well. Too well as it hugs him in all the best ways.

He turns around, acting like he's dusting his hands. He pauses on the spot, seemingly admiring you under the yellow light of your flat. Your heart lurches in your chest, hands suddenly clammy as you see him visibly sweat. The warm lights may make you look good, but it makes you see all the tiny details. Like how the corner of his lips quirk up into a subtle small smile, the silver charms in his hair, and the slight shimmery sheen on his black shirt. He looks handsome as always, but you can't help but feel shy under his gaze as you hide yourself with your arms crossed over your chest.

Hobie notices, and he has to wake himself up by slapping the rubber band that's around his wrist. “Come ‘ere often?”

“I live here, Hobie.” You beam at him with a slight roll of your eyes.

“Right, ‘m trespassin’, ain't I?” He finally gets the courage to come close to you, smelling the strawberries and cream scent of your perfume. He feels like he's floating on cloud nine.

“I don't think it counts if I invited you in.” With a trembling hand, you reach for his sleeve, fingers running over the rough denim.

He stands toe to toe with you, eyes soft and hand slowly reaching for you as you lead him outside. “W-wait hold on.”

“Hm?” You hum, and you see his hands reaching towards your neck.

“Can I?” His palm hovers around the underside of your jaw, thumb briefly brushing along your heated skin.

Your lips part slightly, breath hitching in your throat as you tug him closer to you. You're thinking that this is it, that he's about to kiss you properly this time. Not like the quick and awkward kiss you two had after his confession. It was awkward because it was during a work trip, and it was quick because he took your still lips against him as a sign that he misread your affections. He was dead wrong. It took guts to yank him back in front of you and place a kiss on the corner of his lips before someone could see you two lip locking on company time. It was the best decision you've ever made.

“Y–yeah, you can, Hobs.” You can't even hear your own voice above the thudding of your heart.

Hobie nods and leans closer as you shut your eyes. He's so close to you that you can smell his cologne. Warm hands graze your neck, fingers gently looping around your necklace as he twists it around your neck. “Sorry, it was botherin’ me.”

Your eyes open immediately, looking down at your fixed necklace where the pendant of a clover now sits right on your collarbone. “Oh.”

His brows knit together. “Oh?” Then his face morphs into realization. “Oh!” Shit. “I could still—”

“It's nothing! We should go, we're wasting precious time.” You didn't intend to have your voice so unnaturally high. You clear your throat, arm reaching behind him to close and lock your front door. Trainers squeak against the steps as you embarrassedly make your way down. You wish the earth could just swallow you whole.

Hobie bites his lip to tuck the laugh inching in his throat. “Sure, love.”

“Don't laugh!” You squeak from the sidewalk as you stare up at him.

“‘m not!” A chuckle escapes.

“You are!” You point accusingly at him.

“‘m just chuffed, alright?” Hobie goes down the stairs to meet with a very flustered you. He tugs you against him by your pinky and lets you hide your face on his chest. You groan, the deep rumble felt through his entire being. His palm rests in between your shoulder blades, thumb brushing along your nape. “If I only knew—”

As quick as lightning, you cup his mouth. “Not a word.”

He mumbles, words quieted by your hand while his eyes smile.

“I didn't think that you were about to…you know.” You lie through your teeth, and he narrows his eyes suspiciously, letting his expression convey his words. Huffing, your hand falls. “Don’t say anything, please?” You're embarrassed enough as it is.

With a smile, he moves down and places a kiss on your cheek. Lips lingering on your skin. It almost had you keeling over on the dirty sidewalk.

“There, enough to tide us both over until the end of the date.” You haven't noticed his hand grasping your own, as his index traces the shell of your ear and plays with your dangling earring.

“You're excruciatingly insufferable.” You say with the fondest of tones. Arms looped around his neck while his hands fall down towards your hips.

“You have that effect on me,” with another kiss to your cheek, one that's closer to the corner of your lips, he then takes your hand, pecking the back of your hand and then holding it and placing it inside the pocket of his jacket. You feel how shaky he is against your touch, and the clamminess of his palm. “C’mon, we have places to be.”

Your head casually leans against his shoulder whilst you two walk. Letting the street lights guide you both towards where he parked his motorcycle.

“I was thinking of making use of the vegetables you gave me and make you dinner someday? Possibly? Maybe?” You say with trepidation as you two cross the street.

“That sounds great, love.” He holds onto you protectively, head swiveling to make sure there's no oncoming traffic heading your way. Now safely back on the sidewalk, he leads you towards the familiar bike. “Your flowers might have bloomed by then too.”

Hobie lets you go to grab a spare helmet for you. The same one he always reserves just for you whenever he gives you a ride home.

“Moussaka for the eggplant, some pasta with the tomatoes.” You excitedly say while he gingerly puts on the helmet on your head just like always. And he even makes sure he doesn't ruin your hair. He listens intently at your yapping with a soft smile. “I have no idea what to do with the onions though, maybe french onion soup? Would that even pair well with the others?”

Hobie pats the top of the helmet, wiggling your head with it. “As long as you let me help you with the cookin’”

“You want to help me?” Your eyes shine brightly under the streetlamp.

“‘Course, love.” Without another word, he kneels down before you and you swear your heart stops as your eyes widen. “That could be our second date.”

Before you could embarrass yourself more with another assumption. Hobie ties your loose shoelaces for you. He makes sure that he secures it well with a tug and even moves to the other shoe to double knot its shoelaces.

He gives your shoe a good pat before you give him a hand to help him up. His eyes glow as he looks up at you with reverence.

You have no idea how you'll manage throughout the rest of the date without melting into a puddle.

[domxmarvel]

White dress

Masterlist

Pairing: Billie Eilish x Female!Reader

Having your best friend getting married was extremely exciting while simultaneously exhausting. There was a lot of planning to do and most importantly the dress. You weren't gonna lie it was affecting you,the whole idea of getting married was quickly getting more and more appealing. Even more appealing once your friend suggested you'd try on a dress,you tried to refuse because you didn't think it was appropriate but your friend insisted you'd try some. Eventually you caved and tried one on,it was one that was beautiful on you and you liked the way it looked on you. The dress definitely looked stunning. You couldn't help but admire yourself as you stood in front of the mirror. While your friend was getting changed you got a message and looked down to see Billie's name. Curiously you opened it and saw the photo your friend had taken of you in the dress. You couldn't help but feel a mix of self consciousness and nerves, wondering what Billie's reaction would be. The three dots bounced up and down as you waited for her to text. Finally, the dots stopped bouncing and a new message appeared.

"Wow, you look absolutely stunning in that dress," Billie texted, and you could almost hear the hint of surprise in her voice. "I mean, you always look beautiful, but in that dress, you look like a total knockout. I'm trying to pick my jaw up off the floor over here." She added a heart emoji at the end, which made you grin from ear to ear.

"Well you should thank her,I wasn't gonna take photos" 

"Can't believe you were trying to cheat me out of such an amazing sight. But I am very thankful to her for this picture." She sent a string of heart emojis along with the text, making it clear how she felt.

"You really like this dress,huh?"

"Like is an understatement," Billie replied, with several more heart emojis. "I'm actually drooling a lil bit over here. You look like an absolute goddess in it. I mean it."

"Thanks,Bills" you sent back a couple of hearts to match.

"In fact, I don't ever want you to take that dress off," she teased, followed by a winking emoji.

"Billie I'm not gonna buy a wedding dress just to wear around"

"Why not?" Billie replied, and you could hear the hint of playfulness in her voice. "I mean, imagine if you just wore that dress around the house. I'd never be able to keep my hands off you."

"You have that problem already" you chuckled to yourself.

"Touché," Billie responded, sending a row of laughing emojis. "But can you blame me? It's like you're walking around in a dress made specifically to drive me wild." The message was followed with some hearts. "Actually, maybe we should make a deal," she added, followed by another flirtatious emoji.

"What kinda deal?" You played along with her.

"Let me buy you that dress, but with one little condition," Billie responded, adding a mischievous winking emoji. "You have to promise to wear it, and only wear it, for me." It was both a playful and serious request that seemed more tempting with every passing second.

"Billie,I'm not buying a wedding dress simply because you wanna fuck me in it"

"Alright, maybe I need to play a little bit more seriously," Billie texted back, sending a few more pouting emojis. "It's not just about that. I really do think you look beautiful in the dress, it would be a shame if you didn't own it."

"I get it but no point unless I'm getting married"

"Maybe you should just marry me then?" Billie replied, adding a string of diamond rings. "Problem solved, right?" 

"Is that seriously how you're gonna propose to me?"

"Hey, you're the one who said you wouldn't buy a wedding dress unless you were getting married," Billie responded."I'm just trying to be practical."

"I'll get the dress if you promise to propose probably"

"Oh, so now you're interested in the dress? If it's a proper proposal you want, consider it done. But in the meantime, I'll need a picture of you in that dress again. For research purposes, obviously." She sent a winking emoji at the end of her message.

[emeraldserenade]

I have an idea for something to write. Joaquin, reader, Sam and Bucky work on a mission together (Joaquin and reader are in a long term relationship). Chaos ensues. I was thinking something similar to that club scene and shoot out scene in F&TWS.

In The Club ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: you agree to go on a mission with Sam, Bucky and Joaquín, not knowing what's in store.

tw: fem!reader, limited use of y/n, they all have different names for the mission, reader is treated as an object by the men at the club, barely edited

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

This is my last request, please send in more. I love knowing what you guys want to see and it helps me keep my creative juices flowing.

Sorry if this isn't what you thought it would be, I only kinda remember the club scene from F&TWS.

➽──────────────❥

A simple mission, that was all it was. Sam and Bucky promised you that was all it was when they came to get you and Joaquín for it.

"I promise, y/n. It is a simple in and out," Sam told you, you had a feeling he was lying to you as soon as he told you that you needed to be wearing a short dress. "It's just to fit in, we can't have them thinking we don't belong there," Sam reassured you, his nice tailored suit made you think twice about his words.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"You lied to me," you weren't mad, you were exasperated. Sam had just told you that you were to act like their toy that the three just pass around. You wanted to leave, to tell Sam to fuck himself and that you wouldn't be doing this. But you were already in the plane and you knew how important this mission was, so you stayed in your seat

"I know, and I'm sorry but I knew you weren't going to say yes, and there was no way in hell that Joaquín would say yes," Sam tried to make himself sound better but you just stared at him, Joaquín practically vibrating with how hard he was trying to keep his anger back.

Joaquín was known to share, but not you. If another man so much as looked in your direction, he was watching them and making sure they weren't trying to take what's his. The only thing that was truly holding back Joaquín's anger, was the fact that one of your hands were on his that was resting on your thigh and the other was gripping his forearm of the same arm.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You hated it, so did Joaquín but you did what you were told. You stuck around the three, mostly Joaquín and the backstory that while you were 'used' by all three, you were Joaquín's girl spread like wildfire. Sure, they didn't know your real names but they loved the way you three interacted. The club goers loved the narrative, they loved the way that while you were with either Sam or Bucky, Joaquín was always watching you. They loved watching his jaw clench and his hands ball into fists.

"I don't believe you," one particularly annoying goer said, he had been watching Joaquín look ready to murder Sam and Bucky as you had to hang off of them. "Let me kiss her," he looked towards Sam who looked down at you. Your eyes darted to Joaquín, you saw that he was ready to yell or fight. "What's wrong, don't want to prove me right, Theo? She's not just for the taking?" The man taunted Sam, using his fake name for the mission. You held back a cringe at his words, your body becoming tense.

"Look, I might use her but she's Diego's. You gotta ask him permission before you do anything to her," Sam quickly lied and you moved over to stand next to Joaquín, his arm automatically wrapping around your waist.

"Then, Diego, let me kiss your girl," the man stepped closer and Joaquín just stared him down.

"Nah, I don't let random men touch her. You gotta prove yourself worthy of my girl," Joaquín told him, his arm tightening around you.

"Liam, you got a say in this?" The man looked over at Bucky who had been silently watching the whole ordeal. He had told you, and you think Joaquín by how he didn't seem to mind you being around Bucky so much, that he wouldn't let anyone touch you. He didn't care if your cover was blown, he would keep you safe.

"Hey, Maya is Diego's girl. I don't know what you want me to do, Jacob," Bucky held his head high, the gloves on his hands made a slight squeaking noise as he tightened his fists.

"Well then," Jacob rounded to face you and Joaquín again but was met with Joaquín's fist to his face. You heard the sickening crunch of his nose breaking and gasped softly. Another pair of arms surrounded your waist and you squeaked in surprise. Joaquín spun back around and pulled you away from the random man who thought using this slight chaos to his advantage was a smart move.

"Aren't you The Winter Soldier?" The man who you had just been pulled away from looked at Bucky and you knew your cover was blown.

"Shit," you whispered, moving closer to Joaquín as you two shuffled to Sam and Bucky.

No more words were exchanged as the four of you ran, gun shots and fights broke out. Chaos was everywhere and you sighed, you knew Joaquín was pissed at what happened and hoped that it didn't effected that he wanted to help the world.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Look, y/n, I'm sorry," Sam looked over at you as you sat on the plane next to Joaquín.

"It's fine, it wasn't your fault," you waved him off and gently squeezed Joaquín's hand. He was mostly asleep, having stopped with Bucky to fight off some of the men that followed the four of you running. Sam had gotten you to the plane and you two waited for the others to get back.

"Next time, I promise I won't throw it in you last minute," Sam told you and you looked down at the sleeping form of Joaquín.

"Hopefully that next time isn't for another 9 months," you told Sam, he got it right away and looked over at Joaquín.

"Does he know?"

"Yeah, he does," you smiled.

"Congrats," Bucky called from his seat, you thought he was asleep but you were wrong.

"Thanks, Buck," you called over softly. Joaquín, in his sleep, moved his hand to rest over your stomach and a smile spread across your face.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[lyricwritesprose]

"Karim?" Joey says very quietly. We're both pretending to use the library computers. Neither of us are. We're here because it's fucking freezing out there and it's warm in here, and the librarians are pretty good about not throwing anyone out unless they're making noise or causing trouble. Freezing doesn't matter to me but I worry about Joey, he's got things going on that turn his self-care skills into pure shit.

"Yeah?" I say, just as quietly.

"Need a reality check."

Yeah, that's one of the things that's going on. Joey gets more or less anchored depending on the day. "Go ahead," I say.

"Thought I saw you fly off yesterday." Joey frowns. "Yesterday? Maybe Monday. Shit, what day is it?"

It's a fast struggle but a surprisingly difficult one. I don't like life on the street any more than the rest of us, but Seriously Bad Things could happen if my real name gets out. I could just lie to Joey. He'd believe me. It might not even bother him that much. He's hallucinated before. All I'd have to do…

Is lie to him about the state of his own brain.

Yeah. No. "Yeah, you saw that."

Joey thinks about this for a moment. He's scrambled at times but nobody ever said he was dumb. He's got a degree in astronomy. Planets sometimes talk to him but when he's on top of his game, he's sharp. "Shit."

"I'd like it not to get around."

"Why the hell not? You could be a star!"

"I could also be an experimental subject or a guy whose family is strapped to a big machine with a laser pointed at them. Prefer to avoid."

"Yeah, but—but why stay here?"

"Same as everyone else, I'm dead broke. Look, even if it weren't for ADHD issues it is really hard to hold down a job when you might have to disappear at any given second to save someone's life. You know? And I won't take money from my sister, she's barely scraping by already." And has mixed feelings about me ever since I terrorized her nasty piece of work ex, since she's bright enough to figure out that I couldn't have done that without some sort of power.

"I guess you can't just rob a bank," Joey muses. "I mean, I guess you could, but—"

I sigh. "The truth is, if some costume figures out how to do that without violence, I usually give 'em a lecture and let 'em go. Just because I won't do it doesn't mean I don't get it. Way I see it, I'm here to protect people, not things."

Joey nods. "Seems like there should be ways you could make life easier for yourself, though."

"Mm. Sometimes. There are some ways it is easier. I don't feel the cold and I don't feel the heat, that's something."

"Lucky motherfucker," Joey says without rancor.

"And, well, you've probably noticed. That things do tend to happen to those bullshit benches."

I see the start of a smile on his face. "The ones you can't lie down on."

"Yeah, those. The dividers get ripped out eventually and nobody knows how, you know? Honestly it's a stupid idea anyway, even if it wasn't for us, who wants a bench where you can't even sit next to your date? A bench where you can't sit next to someone is called a fuckin' chair, and what sort of bitch goes to city hall and says, "I'd like to install a park chair?" Who's ever heard of a park chair? Dumbfucks."

Joey nods in perfect understanding. Then he says, a little hesitantly, "You know the Golden Tomato?"

"I couldn't afford that kind of yuppie food even when I had a place, but yeah, I know it."

"They've put spikes out front. Like, little nubbles in the concrete so people can't sit down under their awning."

I think about this. On the one hand, I've got to be very careful about the favors I do, but this is a good cause…

"Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if something happens to those, but, Joey? Really keep it under your hat."

"Even if I wanted to tell, nobody believes a schizophrenic," Joey pointed out. "Especially one with the twitches. Fucking bitch doctors." Tardive dyskinesia virtually always happens because some son of a bitch screws up on dosage, and—as Joey can tell you—it's also an instant ticket out of a job interview.

There are reasons I look out for Joey. Beyond, you know. Liking him. Kind of useless as fuck anyway, liking him, I'm ninety-nine percent certain he's straight, but it would take a real shitful asshole to drop a friend just because I'm never going to get in his pants. We've got each other's backs, that's what's important.

"I worry a lot about people getting scooped up and questioned," I admit. I could probably stand to talk to a psychologist about it, actually, but…who? "Don't worry about it. I trust you."

And I will probably never admit to Joey exactly how much that took to say.

You're a superhero. While in your suit, you're beloved by the city, but outside of it? You're a homeless man, unable to get a job nor pay rent because of your duties.

[glitter-stained]

Look I don't like RHATO #25 for many reasons but if you're gonna talk about the beatdown and you don't like it you can just say "that issue had terrible writing" or "that's not my batman he would never do that"

You don't have to defend him, this isn't his first instance of abuse with any of his children or jason in particular but he's such a big and old character I understand not wanting to see him being an abusive parent ever (though in that case I advise you to just not engage in his and Jason's mainline relationship at all, at the very least not red hood!jason)

What does really really grate me though, is people trying to defend it because those reasonings are so hypocritical it's clear they just don't like the way Jason's character challenges the bat-status quo and that ends up literally just being abuse justification rhetoric again and again and I'm tired. If you're gonna be a hater can you not do it in a way that makes you sound like the parent who stands to the side watching their partner "discipline" the kid with a belt because "the kid is a bad kid that deserves to be punished."

-well batman is a hero and Jason is a criminal what was he supposed to do he can't play favourites! So, I call Batman a hero when he acts like it but sure, Batman is a vigilante. He fights criminals. Have y'all ever heard of this little term called "conflict of interest"? Yk when your personal connection to the case you're working means you are more likely to lose your cool and let your emotions affect your judgement beyond measure so it's important to delegate? That thing? Batman is always showing up in everyone's comic, the outlaws can have some reinforcement being called to handle Jason's case for once this is absurd, Bruce is more compromised than the cia agent i've been pegging for months in exchange for data. Fathers shouldn't have to arrest their sons.

-well Jason deserved it! Punitive justice, especially fucking punitive violence, is the enemy. It doesn't work for children and it doesn't work on adults and it's a ridiculous approach to harm reduction and recidivism prevention. Well, killing might work, but i don't reckon rhato#25 batman defenders would defend this*. I understand the cathartic appeal of wanting to see fictional characters you dislike punished, really, and the desire for vengeance in the form of punitive justice is normal and perfectly understandable; but however valid this emotion is, that doesn't mean actually enacting this brutality becomes the correct course of actions. Idk how else to say it but however evil you think the victim is it's still not okay to victim-blame. And sure, I can tell fiction from reality and know this isn't a real person, but when people say stuff like that it still tells me that the person who is saying this stuff believes that it's not abuse if the victim is evil. And when you're there, it only takes a bit of cognitive bias and dissonance and carefully worded narrative bending for the victim to be categorised evil and denied the respect of their pain.

(*this isn't about the death penalty. I do not support state violence)

People are so concerned with hating Jason's character and wanting to see him punished for his crimes they will bend things backwards to justify that a father brutally beating down his son in an extremely vulnerable moment while the son doesn't fight back isn't abuse because the character is inherently bad and thus deserves to be violently punished. And then we wonder why victims blame themselves or explain "it's different because it's me so the situation is unique, i'm a special case because i'm wrong", when this is the classic mentality in our societies.

Truly a mystery indeed

[leashybebes]

However— well, is Tommy a reliable narrator to himself? Sure, Eddie basically stopped talking to him, but what about Tommy? Did he also delay replying to the 118 so that the time between messages stretched out? Did he think they were only trying to be nice by keeping in touch with their teammates’ ex (never mind that he was Hen and Howie’s teammate first) and he’d prefer to not have their ‘pity’ and cut them off (again)? Did he cut them off preemptively and doesn’t see it that way because if he did then he’d have to also face the fact that he’s a little messed up? We probably don’t have time for them to delve into all of this on screen but it’s interesting to chew on. For reasons.

(Chim gets a pass for the post-throat slashing time of no contact because he was… let’s say preoccupied.)

oh 100% hang on let me get my coffee

okay, SO. mr unreliable narrator over here, mr enjoy it while it lasts, is never going to be the one with the full picture, because he sets it up that way - intentional or not, i feel like tommy is someone who has his view of the world and his role in it and just quietly, fatalistically makes that happen.

so i can totally see a world where no one from the 118 reaches out, full stop. but, y'know, phones work both ways, thomas. BUT. for tommy, that's buck's family. they're buck's people. (and look, my wife has a much closer relationship with her family than i do, and a much larger circle of friends, and it took me WAY longer than six months to start feeling like they were our people, not her people i got to hang out with through her.)

we know that tommy's a jealous guy, and we also get the sense that he's pretty fatalistic, so if no one reaches out, i can see that landing for him as "well, obviously. they never really wanted me around, of course i was never gonna be part of that" and just exacerbating his envy, but also his sense that that chapter of his life is Over Now. i can see the lack of contact from hen and chim actually not stinging that much (or tommy telling himself it doesn't sting that much, genuinely believing that, my king of unexamined feelings) because they're not friends, right? chim calls him when he needs a favour, but they're not close. he's not on hen's christmas card list (and that's genuinely fine, i mean zero shade to anyone involved here. they were friends by the time he left the 118 but for all we know they were mostly or entirely work friends). so i can see his internal monologue about that, his confirmed belief being 'well, hell, i wasn't enough for them to want around on my own merits before, why would i be now'. (again, this is not shade on hen or chim. phones work both ways and my special little guy is fucked in the head.)

eddie's gotta sting a little more because they were friends, right? actual friends. but if we're taking tommy at face value, then we have to assume he feels some kinda way about being friends with eddie once he and buck are together. i don't think he actually thinks anything is happening/has happened/will happen with buck and eddie, but we do get this delicious hint with that little scoff about eddie's straightness that maybe tommy has experience of that queer classic - losing years of your life being besotted with your ride or die straight bestie (sal!!!! but uh. that's a separate post.).

i lost my thought. wait. okay, so i think one of the fundamental mismatches is that for six months buck was in an x-rated rom-com and tommy was navigating something unbelievably fucking complicated because talking? communicating? who does that when you can just make up a scenario and stick to it like your life depends on it. (worth noting there's no way that scenario ends well for him, but uh, that's why i love him. go listen to settle for me from crazy ex girlfriend lol)

i can ALSO see the other part of what you said. tommy says eddie 'pretty much' or 'basically' (can't remember the wording right now and not in a position to check) stopped talking to him which does leave room for some contact. (it could also be read as a kind of deflection of the ouch of it all but ymmv.) so i can see a world where eddie sends a 'man wtf happened?' message which...tommy's not going to reply to that. he's just not. but changing the subject immediately is too obvious so he has to wait a while to say something innocuous, and it just kind of fizzles out.

whatever happens, whether it was zero contact or intermittent, declining contact, my special little guy, my world champion runner, my sad sad man was 100% thinking 'yeah, that tracks'. we definitely don't have time for the show to delve into that, and honestly it's not really that kind of show so i wouldn't expect it, but rest assured i am C H E W I N G

[jadewritesficshere]

Eddie frowns to himself slightly. He was expecting to come home to find you watching TV or maybe doing one of your hobbies. Instead, there are still laundry baskets full of unwashed clothes you were going to take to the laundromat.

"Babe?" He calls, leaning against the wall to take off one shoe at a time. He lets them fall haphazardly next to your neatly placed shoes. He takes his leather jacket off and hangs it on the peg on the wall.

Eddie heads down the trailer hall to the bedroom. The door creaks as it opens. He can see you laying under the covers. Eddie walks over, carefully sitting towards the foot of the bed. "Hey Babe," he runs a hand up and down your spine," bad day?"

You groan," yeah...I'm sorry." "For what?" Eddie's brow furrows slightly. You huff and pull the blankets back to look at him. "I was supposed to do laundry. Clean the living room up for your club to meet tomorrow. Instead my joints decided 'hey let's become stiff like steel so every movement hurts'. My nervous system decided 'oh hey let's send a wave of fatigue so strong we can barely keep our eyes open."

Eddie blinks a couple of times watching you. A stray tear falls from your eyes, but Eddie gently wipes it away before it can leave your cheek. "Those days happen. It's okay. Do you ever get mad at me when my body aches?" He cups your cheek in his hand.

"Eddie you almost died saving the world. My body just is like this-" "Who's to say the Upside Down didn't exacerbate things hm? That air wasn't exactly legal." You roll your eyes.

"It isn't your fault." Eddie murmurs, thumb running back and forth against your cheek. The cool of his rings against your face. "It feels like it," you mumble. "Hey, stop being mean to the person I love!" Eddie pokes your side gently. You can't help but smile slightly at him.

"I love you. I know you get frustrated and upset sometimes, especially when things flare up. I do understand what you're going through and it fucking sucks. But that doesn't mean I love you less. We got to take the bad with the good. It makes those good days all the more special. It's an honor to be with you. In sickness and in health, yeah?"

"Are you saying wedding vows?" You joke. "I mean... I never believed in marriage for me but you make me think about it." Eddie shrugs," Dont need a piece of paper to validate my feelings for you." You smile softly," Yeah."

A few seconds pass before Eddie clears his throat, face flushing," So, uh, do you need heat? Will that help?" You slowly nod.

Eddie stands," Then I am going to go pop the rice bags in the microwave for you, and then im gonna run to the laundromat to get the clothes in the washer because I think Wayne will actually kill us both if he comes home in the morning to no clothes."

You laugh lightly," Til death do us part eh Munson?" "Not even death could separate us my love."

[just-a-cool-wizard]

Wow, this brings me back. Believe it or not, I was there that night. It was the second or third year of wizard school--third I think because I was there with my friend Reynauld the Wize-with-a-Z, and he transferred over from Wizard Yale (I know, right?) during my third year. Anyway, Reynauld and I had the bright idea that we'd go to this bar that night to meet some witches, not that we'd know what to do with a witch if she even glanced at us, much less, you know, what we were hoping for, but I literally chalk up "reason to meet witches" as one of the main reasons I explored a wizard career to begin with. You can't grow up watching Elvira Mistress of the Dark on the seeing stone and not have it affect you, you know?

But, see, I was nervous. Witches and warlocks and folks pretending to be vampires, and I was just a kid, so I'd gotten pretty in my head about it and I thought it would be a good idea to put up some wards, you know? What if I get cursed? What if somebody tries to poison me? What if there's a real vampire there with the fake vampires (fampires we called them) and they try to glamour me, or who knows what? So, wards up, anti-curse stuff up, all my spell slots on defensive abilities.

So there we were at this bar full of leather- and black denim-clad so-and-sos, and if you've ever seen a wizard student you'll know how much we stood out. I was, to put it kindly, cherubic in my school days, pale and pock-faced, quite the stereotype. I used some scum from the bottom of a cauldron as eye shadow, thinking that would make me look goth, and Reynauld tied his robe sleeves up with a copper wire. We looked ridiculous. I'll give those goths one thing, though--were they ever welcoming to a pair of dorks invading their space like this. One guy with a fucking safety pin through his face, like his WHOLE face, he's all, how you guys doing, so glad you're here, let me show you around, and then this gal who, so far as I could tell, literally didn't have eyes, just offered us molly like it was no big deal. Everyone was super nice.

Anyway, this guy. Saint Verthaine, apparently. I remember seeing him and thinking he looked so fucking cool, like as nervous as I was, he was the polar opposite. I was scared to be there, and he, I don't know, it looked like he didn't even want to be there. He was standing at the bar with a creamy-looking drink and a cigarette and he looked like through his presence he was doing the place a favor. In hindsight I realize that was just his shtick, this aloof above it all thing, like obviously you don't go to a bar to be alone, but I was pretty in awe of it at the time.

And then, something happened. Reynauld was shouting over the music, shouting right into my ear, complaining about one of his classes, when suddenly he stops mid-word. A wave crossed over the room. I felt a pressure, felt one of my wards buckle and one of my counter-curses trigger. The music sounded heavy and distorted--more heavy and distorted than it was, I mean, like I was hearing it from under water, and then I realized that everyone was frozen. Everyone but me. My anxiety about coming to this club suddenly erupted into a full on panic and I was hyper aware of everything and everyone around me, positive I was getting glamoured or otherwise mind-controlled and a wraith or who knows what the fuck was about to get me, and then I saw her: rainbow hair that obviously had taken her hours to get right, skin gray as a cloudy sky, and leather that she must have been stitched into. She's slinking seductively through the crowd and I'm positive she's who did The Thing, and thank heaven i'm petrified with fear or she'd have known I wasn't magically petrified like the rest of the room was, and I realize then that she's approaching the cool guy I'd seen, and he's not petrified either, just smoking and standing there like he doesn't give a fuck. It was crazy. She says something to him, something weird and garbled that I couldn't hear, holds her hand out to him, he stubs his cigarette out against the bar, takes her hand, and then, seriously, the two evaporate into smoke.

And just like that, the music is normal again and everyone's moving again and Reynauld picks up exactly where he left off, the second half of the word he was saying, which made me jump right out of my fucking cauldron-soot eyeliner, I'll tell you, and then he stops and is like, "What the fuck, man? Did you take that molly that chick gave us? You can't just take random pills, dude!"

I stared over at him like he was crazy, and then I thought, wait, did I take the molly? Was that what that was? Molly is supposed to be fun but that was fucking terrifying.

I guess the moral of this story is don't do drugs, kids, except cool ones, of course, and, like, I don't know, I lost the thread of this, I suppose, because I checked later and I still had the molly, so maybe do do drugs, just make sure you test them first? And watch out for goddesses of chaos.

Now THIS is how you start an occult text.

(Book of Eris)

[mirixmoya]

my initial first-read thoughts for SOTR PART III: THE POSTER there will be MAJOR SPOILERS under the cut but pls enjoy :)

chapter 19;

haymitch thinking poorly about himself makes me so sad i can't believe he's gonna do that for the next 25 years

"will she be haunted by me for the rest of her life?" other way around actually!

haymitch tryna smart ass his way out of panache killing him... this man never never changes does he

chapter 20;

"i've killed someone. two someones. brutally. it was self-defense, so question, but i know i can never go back to five minutes ago." he's so young he's so sweet i could cry

"mamaw used to say you never really knew who'd swim in a flood." there is annie cresta everywhere for those with the eyes to see

mags and haymitch mental communication via sponsor gifts... haymitch and katniss mental communication via sponsor gifts... crazy stuff.

HAYMITCH AND MAYSILEE BROTHERSISTER

"my dreams are nothing i want to remember, full of people i must never forget. i visit death after death. it's a relief to be woken up." oh :(

katniss and haymitch both getting a lil deaf in their games #family

KATNISS MENTION WAHHH

"one of us has to be the worst victor in history. tear up their scripts, tear down their celebrations, set fire to the victor's village. refuse to play their game." do i believe that post-sotr is a genuine addict and a handful? yes ofc. do i think he's also keeping his promise to maysilee a little bit? also yes.

chapter 22

"just programmed to be walked all over, i guess" he's like a sad wet dog i see on the street and then worry about for the rest of my day

chapter 23;

reading these moments that were already kinda knew but also didn't really know is so surreal

MAYSILEE MY SWEET GIRL :(

"I just stare into those burning blue eyes, letting her know she's not dying alone. she's with family. she's with me." :((((((((

effie mention again!! it's so good to be alive!!

"proserpina wasn't born evil; she just had a lot of unlearning to do." the trinket sisters have this in common i fear

"it's okay to cry around mags" suzanne what if IM the one crying

chapter 24;

okay must assume at this point that The Raven references are building to something but they are still lowkey jarring for me idk

"neither of us are going home [...] these Games will have no victor" he's literally six months pregnant with katniss here.

that whole cliff sequence... chef's kiss

"I die happy." :(

chapter 25;

A WHAT SWALLOWS A WHAT

sepsis mention.

"nobody's here because everybody's dead." and this is just his life now. sick. sick to my stomach.

him always remembering to mention effie even tho she was only there for like 2 days... mhm hm okay.

he's already likening his victor's village house to a prison stfu

snow locking this traumatized teenage boy in this apartment, alone, with only shitty symbolism food, and making him watch a gory clip show of the past hunger games??? i need to kill this man immediately

LUCY GRAY MY BELOVED

EFFIE!!!!

her ass is always having to act normal while people are shooting guns about her ears i know effie just hates her fucking life.

haymitch describing himself as an animal NOOOOO

the world could literally be ending and nothing would stop these two idiots from bantering. i hate them. literally the plot of mockingjay (the movie).

"i'm going to tell everyone you dressed me." and i'm expected to believe there's NOTHING going on between them???

this exchange is affectionate asf ohmygod

effie being given direct instructions from snow? possibly from the man himself?? oh im gonna have a field day with that one

"effie, to her credit, stands by me." TEARS. TEARS IN MY EYES. THIS LITERALLY BEING THEIR RELATIONSHIP IN A NUTSHELL.

"i won't hurt you." "i know that." ARE U KIDDING

"but they really are for a greater good. the hunger games." don't worry suzanne girl i've been there too. i love to ruin a nice hayffie moment with effie saying something horrible and inhuman.

mags in a wheelchair :(

"day 5 or 6? who knows? it's just one big, big, big day." literally effie trinket #1 fan alert

corioloanus snow i will literally shoot u with a gun

chapter 26;

haymitch literally being put in a cage and dangled for capitol amusement.... i don't wanna talk about it.

"the only person who keeps an eye on me is effie trinket." cried. cried very hard

the four tributes finishing their journey together suzanne why don't YOU just shoot ME with a gun.

"you can take several things from me--my ma, my brother, my love--that are the only things worth keeping." i am gonna throw up.

HANGING TREE :(

of all the way to kill haymitch's family suzanne chose the most devastating one. uh huh okay.

it's literally so over.

the dry cistern. how many times can i threaten to kms

burdock everdeen u are so loved by me. i would also leave my nice town family for ur broke ass and then be devastated beyond reason when you die tragically.

don't even get me started on the song choice... this book is wet enough already

"no one took more care banking a fire at night." Mrs. Abernathy i loveee u. i grew up in a house heated solely by fire, this is literally my Mom, i feel like i Know her, i was literally Raised by her.

HAYDOVE REUNION #GODISGOOD

nevermind.

chapter 27;

THE NIGHTMARES :(

"that i will never love anyone ever again. nevermore. because he will make sure they end up dying horrible deaths." i will be using this in all my future hayffie mockingjay effie-in-prison angst fics thank u very much

haymitch pushing everyone away to the point of throwing ROCKS at burdock and asterid??? i know he was sick to his stomach the first time he saw katniss on that train

i can't watch this poor young boy became an alcoholic in real time i really can't :(

snow losing lucy gray in the woods vs. haymitch looking for lenore dove in the woods. i see u suzanne.

lucy gray has a headstone this is incredible news

"it's effie trinket who finds me," and i knew she would!!!!

is she the stylist or the escort now? or both??

"you are capable of imagining a different future. and maybe it won't be realized today, maybe not in our lifetime. maybe it will take generations." that's right suzanne! remind the children that katniss was not a uniquely extraordinary revolutionary, she was simply a revolutionary who came in at the right time!

epilogue;

"i have to look after my family." the sob that just left my body was genuinely concerning.

i will never use sweetheart for effie again.

"i finally told our story" :(

KATNISS GAVE HIM THE GEESE!!!

"the capitol can never take lenore dove from me again. they never really did in the first place." haydove u were so beautiful and lovely it was a pleasure to get to know u

me, a hayffie girly, closing the last page on that epilogue: yeah :) i can work with that :)

not a single intelligent thought to be found this time. only a lot of incoherently rambling. i'm so excited to re-read it all again tomorrow.