#i wish i had more to say but genuinely i know nothing

[gothicfied]

Bf!Nam-gyu / Player 124 Headcanons

Pairing: Boyfriend!Nam-gyu x fem!reader (No Squid Game AU)

Warnings: Mention of drug use/withdrawal, other than that it's just fluff (maybe a teeny tiny bit of angst), not proof read (english isn't my first language)

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who you met at the club he worked at during a night out with your friends. He took one look at you and knew he was in love immediately — Your makeup, your dress, your hair, that you spent hours trying to style it, just everything about you was perfect. He genuinely had to stop what he was doing for a second to get his thoughts straight.

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who just couldn't help but give you drinks on the house, trying to make small talk with you. The music was loud, blaring out of the speakers not far away from the bar, but he didn't need to hear you. For him, it was enough to see you up close, to see you smile and laugh at his cheesy attempts at pick-up lines. He laughed along, trying to overplay his nervousness, which didn't quite work.

જ⁀➴ It wouldn't have been the first time that Boyfriend!Nam-gyu took a girl back home with him that he met at his work, but you were different. He wasn't staring at your body, looking down your cleavage when talking to him, no, he was actually interested in getting to know you. During your short conversation, he could just tell how kind and lighthearted you were. After all, not every girl would entertain his flirting.

જ⁀➴ After a few times seeing you around the club again, Boyfriend!Nam-gyu had secured your phone number, which you wrote down on his hand with a little heart next to it. You couldn't exactly tell why you liked him this much, hut he was weirdly charming and appreciated the fact that he wanted to take you out on a proper date some time. He was cute, you couldn't deny that, so you took up on his offer.

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who stayed true to his word and texted you right after his shift, setting up a date and time for a meeting outside his workplace. He already had everything thought out in his head, perhaps even imagining little scenarios about you before falling asleep.

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who could now actually introduce himself as your boyfriend after a couple of dates, long phone calls and deep talks late at night when you'd stay over at his place. The two of you had developed a strong bond in no time, finding out that you had more in common than you first thought. And, in your opinion, he was the best partner you could wish for. Nam-gyu was attentive, always noticed if you felt bad and cheered you up, funny.. what wasn't there to love about him?

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who you helped get clean and also get a better job. The first few weeks of withdrawal weren't the easiest on him nor your relationship, but you absolutely made it work. You'd comfort him during a breakdown, wiping his tears away for him and hold him against your chest. Your nails would scrape the back of his neck, making him let out a shaky sigh.

"I'm.. sorry about that, baby-" Nam-gyu sniffled, taking a deep breath before looking up at you. "There's nothing you have to apologize for," you replied back, a bit shocked about the fact that he would think he needed to say sorry for crying. "I'm here for you, okay? I love you, don't forget that."

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who would frequently buy you your favorite flowers. You'd always ask him what the occasion was and he'd always just shrug, claiming that he didn't need an occasion or a reason to maks you happy.

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who would try to help you while baking something, but would mess everything up he was involved with. Cookies came out burnt, brownies didn't fully bake through.. whatever it was, it just didn't work out. But, you two had fun while doing it and that was all that mattered. Well, not all the time maybe (you reaaaaally wanted those chocolate chip cookies).

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who kisses you awake every morning, even if you could sleep in. Whenever he has to wake up before you, he'd pepper kisses all over your face, partially to also annoy you.

You slowly opened your eyes at the feeling of Nam-gyu's lips against your, turning your head away from him. He laughed and tried to lean over to give you another, but you weren't having it. "Leave me alone!" you blurted out, eyes still closed and all.

"Jesus, can't I kiss my girlfriend goodbye anymore?"

"No."

"Why? What did I do?"

"I hate you."

"Good morning to you too, princess."

[keepingitformyself]

older (and wiser): i

synopsis: in which time could have never undone what she left.

A/N: FIRST WANDA FIC!!! had this idea long ago when i was crushing hard on this girl from the theatre program at my uni; around that time i had also seen ‘past lives’ and i wanted to do something similar with that film. also at my core i know wanda maximoff would’ve totally been a theatre kid, this is me paying ode to that. while this specific part doesn’t go into that, i am gonna work on a sort of prequel to this Short Series…anyways enjoy!!!

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader

genre: angst?

warnings: it’s sad. but it gets hopeful…

MASTERLIST

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

it had been years.

wanda had finally decided to take a breather. she’d been working non-stop ever since she left for work all those years ago after college.

she didn’t think she’d get so lucky off that one job, that it’d immediately get her into another, or another, and so on and so forth.

she loved her work, sure, but now it was catching up to her. everyone in her life, her manager, her agent, her family had all begged her to slow down.

“take some time off, wanda.” her agent, daniel had said to her during a meeting. wanda���s eyes traveled between daniel and her manager, samara.

the meeting had all been a set up. what wanda thought was supposed to be a discussion on a new project, was actually a ploy. she had no idea the meeting was meant to convince her to take a break.

“yeah right.” she scoffed. not believing in what they were saying.

“we’re serious, wanda.” samara stated, her eyes stern but with genuine care. “when was the last time you had time for yourself?”

wanda remained silent at the words. all of a sudden she felt like a kid being scolded by their parents. and she wished to be anywhere else but in the room with them.

“really.” daniel starts. “go be a real person. smell the flowers, meet people, fall in love, take in the view—”

“i meet people all the time, daniel.” wanda quickly cut in.

all daniel could do was shake his head, a sigh escaping his lips as he tried his hardest to make the woman in front of him understand.

“you know that’s not what i meant, wanda.” he gives her a pointed look.

with a jaw clenched, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked off to the side. the windows overlooking los angeles now seeming more interesting than this conversation.

“we know how much it means for you to work, we know how much you enjoy it, but you’ve been doing it for so long. we just want you at your best.” she hears samara say. and as much as she hated to admit it, daniel and samara were right.

wanda hadn’t stopped working since she started. in fact, it’s all she can think to do. she didn’t have anyone outside of work—no partner, no obligations except to her family. why stop when there was nothing waiting for her?

wanda knew the answer but wouldn’t admit it. she might as well never have fully faced it.

the truth was, she’d loved someone once. she’d loved you. and no matter how much time had passed, the thought of you still gnawed at her.

though everything was perfect for a while, her career was well off, she was successful, and her family was proud.

but wanda couldn’t help asking, is this really it?

of course, she tried meeting people. she really tried. she didn't like being miserable over someone she hadn't been in contact with for years. but even that wasn't enough. it was honestly a bit pathetic. it had happened years ago. four years, to be exact. wanda should’ve been well moved on by now, but she isn’t. at least not entirely.

so, she poured everything into her work to distract her from that gnawing feeling inside her. the one that had been lit up all those years ago. the one that was tamable with you around.

but you’re not around, and wanda couldn’t help but throw herself into more work hoping she could get rid of it, get rid of you. but she hasn’t.

“listen, wanda,” daniel cuts her train of thought. “your work is important and people need it, but to keep it up to that degree, you need to go out and just be a human.” he finishes.

wanda sighs. she leans forward on her knees and drops her head into her hands. daniel was right. they were both so right.

wanda never properly dealt with things. maybe it's time she finally did.

she looks up from her hands, a look of defeat yet understanding, with pursed lips she finally says,

"fine."

and now, two months later, wanda finds herself back in los angeles, in an empty home, eating expensive sushi.

she had gotten off the phone with her brother, pietro, who had just joined her on the recent trip she’d been on.

a trip that he insisted he’d join her on to make sure wanda would do all the resting and touristy things she should.

she had done all the traveling she could do in the last two months, jumping from plane to plane. talking to strangers, being a tourist in european cities, and befriending random people in planes.

now, wanda actually had time for herself, time with her brain. a thing she honestly didn't want to face. because even thinking about anything made it even more real.

but now wanda was bored, and the movie playing on her eighty-inch television wasn't doing much to entertain her. and it also didn't help that it was eleven pm on a thursday night and all wanda could do was feel bad for herself.

so she does the next thing she had been really trying to avoid,

stalking your social media.

wanda herself wasn’t much active online these days. she had much to do day-to-day and week-to-week, rarely would she ever have the patience to sit down and scroll through her phone much. that and she honestly tried to stay off of it.

but now she has the time. and the patience. and honestly, she’s a little scared at what she could find.

she tells herself it doesn't have to mean anything. just a little check-in to see how you were, after that she'd really work on trying to forget about you altogether.

and with the simple type in of your name, wanda finds your instagram. your profile picture, a professional headshot of you, and a bio that reads,

editor in chief.

New York Times contributor.

something that shouldn't have made wanda's chest burst with joy, but it does. and as she scrolls further and further, she finds that you now reside in new york city, that you've moved on well without her and that you have a cat and a boyfriend.

boyfriend.

she shouldn't care so much, but she does.

you were living your best life. the one you had always wanted.

just not with her. not with wanda.

but she doesn't stop there, and she ignores the lump in her throat as she exits your profile and searches for your mother's name.

and maybe she feels her heart break a little when it turns out the boyfriend you had is actually your fiancé. she finds out through a photo your mother posted.

the picture shows you, and a handsome man next to you. you’re both sat outside some restaurant in the city, his arm is thrown over your shoulder while your right hand clutches his left, and there it is. in all its glory—with the diamond on it catching the suns light perfectly. the ring on your finger.

it doesn’t help that he looks so in love with you.

out for lunch with y/n and paul again! i promised them an engagement lunch and we were NOT disappointed. make sure you try Jack’s Wife Freda if you are ever in SoHo!!#motherinlaw #NYC #loveinnewyork

is what the caption reads.

wanda freezes at the fact and immediately throws her phone on the empty seat beside her. she stares at it like it had just offended her.

many things go through her brain. how did you meet him? was it shortly after you broke up? was it really him you wanted to spend forever with? how long did it take for him to ask?

wanda had always loved your mother. a sweet woman who always had your best interests in mind. she had always pushed you to do what you loved. and wanda had always seen that some of her favorite traits of yours had come from her.

after the break up, your mom made sure to check in on wanda. without you ever knowing, wanda and your mom kept in touch, until eventually wanda had cut her line for the sake of fully moving on.

though, she never really fully did.

wanda evaluates what to do next. was this her sign? she doesn’t want it to be sign.

wanda doesn’t want to admit that it seems like you had moved on so completely.

on impulse she looks up your fiancé’s name. “paul” is all she had to type out in your mother’s following before she found his account.

she finds that paul is just as successful as you are. he’s an investigative journalist, born in ireland. he briefly worked at a publication in london but transferred to a firm in new york after a year.

he’s gorgeous, she thinks. he has blue eyes, a kind smile, and he has an accent. it would make perfectly good sense why you would choose him.

wanda’s stomach twists with a mix of happiness and regret.

“fuck!” She whispers to herself.

“of course, you’re happy. of course the man you’re engaged with is actually a decent man! fuck.” wanda says to no one in particular. in frustration, she burries her hands in her hair.

wanda is annoyed at herself.

“i need a drink,” in an instant she’s on her legs making her way to the kitchen. she finds a bottle of wine that has been kept cool in the fridge and she wastes no time in popping it open, she pauses briefly, debating on whether she’d need or glass or not.

to hell with a glass. she thinks, and makes her way back to the couch, she holds the bottle by its neck and takes a long swig from it.

it’s all so perfectly miserable. wanda maximoff stalking her ex-girlfriend on social media while she gets wasted. the self loathing has got the best of her. she finds it all ironic.

wanda maximoff could have anyone she wanted. she knew this. she has everything she could ever want or need. she has credibility, a nice home, the luxury of traveling at any moment she wants.

yet, her mind kept coming back to one thing. the one thing she’d decided she’d leave behind all those years ago. it isn’t fair, she thinks. wanda was young and stupid back then, but she was so so in love. she knew that for sure.

but sometimes…sometimes she really wishes she had fought harder.

briefly, wanda wonders if your number was still the same. if you had ever changed it or at least tried calling her. she wouldn’t know, she had changed it years ago once she started getting more attention for her work.

wanda was really drunk at this point. her better judgment had gone away as soon as she’d picked that bottle out the fridge. there was no better time than now.

she taps on her phone until she lands on the number keypad. her fingers hover over it, would she regret it if she didn’t? probably. would she regret it if she did? probably.

but if there was one thing wanda had, it’s that she’s got nerve and audacity.

so she types in the number that she doesn’t think she could ever forget, and lets it ring.

your fiancé answers the call.

“hello?” an irish accent sounds through the speaker. paul. wanda’s blood runs cold and she stays silent for a moment. all of sudden she feels incredibly sober and regretting making the call.

“hi.” she pauses. “uhm, i’m looking for y/n?” wanda manages to squeak out.

“right! who is this? your number isn’t saved.” paul says,

“an old friend. i changed my number a while back.” wanda replies smoothly.

“oh! let me pass her to you, she’s just in the kitchen.” the line goes quiet for a few moments, and she’s able to hear a few words exchanged between you and paul.

“hello?”

wanda freezes again, a hand covers her mouth as she tries not to shake at the sound of your voice. it’d been so long. she grips her phone tighter.

“hey…” her voice shaky and unmistakable. you know it’s wanda.

“wanda?” your voice betrayed the surprise you felt. from the couch paul caught your eye, a raised eyebrow on his face. everything okay? he mouthed.

you shook your head.

“i wondered if your number was still the same.” wanda says after a moment. her tone light, but with an undercurrent of something else.

your mind raced. why was she calling you? why now? your fiance was in the other room, you were getting married soon. you’d built a life perfectly fine without her in it. so why was she calling you now?

“how have you been?” her voice cuts through the line again. wanda holds the phone close to her ear, wanting to make sure she could hear every word you say.

and all you can think of is how confused you were.

“i- i’m fine. i’m good. yeah.”

“that’s good—”

“i’m sorry, uh…why are you calling?” you find yourself cutting her off. your fingers press against your forehead in act of trying to understand what was happening.

wanda pauses. she realizes just how impulsive this whole thing was. she’s on the phone with her ex of four years, while your fiancé was probably in the other room. she goes silent again. her words have to be carefully measured.

she gulps,

“uhm…i just—i just wanted to know how you were. heard you’re based in new york now...so…” wanda trails off. you don’t miss the tone in her voice as she says those words. the familiar rasp, the lowness of her voice, she’d used it many times on you when she wanted something.

you close your eyes with a sigh, “yeah. yeah, i live in new york now, engaged and everything.”

wanda smiles through the phone, her eyes almost prick with tears at the corners.

“i saw," she says just above a whisper. "congratulations, you…you’ve always wanted that.” and she means it. she knows better than anyone how much you’ve wanted this.

suddenly a wave of nostalgia hits you, and you’re brought back to when you were both in college. so young, so dumb, but god, it was one of the best times of your life. you try not to let it affect you, how much this call seems to be doing for you. you haven’t yet figured out if it’s a good or bad thing.

“thank you." your voice softens. "how have you been?” you find yourself asking her next.

wanda smiles at your question, “life has been…insane, you know?” she pauses on the line. “still missing some pieces, but overall i’m doing well,” you pretend not to hear the sudden shift in her voice when she said that.

you exhaled quietly, unsure of what to say. the air between you felt charged with unspoken words, old memories stirring to the surface.

“can i see you?” she asks, her tone hesitant. “catch up in person? i’d really like to see you.”

with your bottom lip between your teeth, you contemplate your next words. paul notices your tick from the other his seat on the couch, despite you telling him it was okay he couldn’t help but worry. he’d heard enough of the call to know something was wrong. still he knows you had it down, so he waits until you need him.

you struggle to find your words for a moment, the question being so…why?

“oh, wanda, i don’t know if—”

but wanda ever the stubborn woman she is, doesn’t relent.

“please. Just for some coffee and conversation.”

your mind is torn between keeping your peace or taking wanda up on her offer. but you were curious.

with a sigh you finally decide.

“where and when?”

you can hear wanda’s smile through the phone,

“i can fly to new york anytime you’re free. you can pick a spot and i’ll be there.”

you think for a few moments.

“okay, meet at caffe reggio in greenwich. i’ll be in touch with when.”

wanda’s heart stutters, something she hadn’t felt in a while. her eyes flutter closed, she breathes in— out. her eyes open again. and though you can’t see it, there’s a new look in her eyes.

“i’ll be there.”

[mirrorcatcreditcard]

Things I think the fandom just willfully ignores or has no idea about that would be super easy to slip into your fanfiction if you want to be inclusive and try out new things.

Lucifer just likes shibari, nawajutsu, or some form of rope tying art, and there's nothing inherently sexual about the excitement it brings him. He's a sadist too, but attraction to the other party would only add to the experience, not be necessary or a byproduct.

Belphegor could age regress and nobody would really be the wiser because of his position as coddled/spoiled youngest child. Even if they were, it doesn't change anything, really.

Beelzebub can fuck. He's also a cannibal. Do I need to say the vore word for you to understand how underutilized food/gore as a love language would be with him? No, it doesn't need to be sexual either, but goddamn so many keep treating him like UwU baby when he kills demons in cold blood because he hungy

Asmodeus is any gender or sexuality you want him to be. Lust ≠ attraction, and you can make him asexual. He's pretty free with how he presents. Also, his fans are so desperate for nice content on him that they'll take anything too. Nobody is going to kill you over this.

Mammon's greed can also be depicted as someone who wants to monopolize your time and/or affections. He attempts plenty of times in canon.

Barbatos' strongest attachment is Diavolo, but he does care about other beings. As long as they're not getting in the way of Diavolo, he's allowed to show care in his own way goddamnit. He's not an ice statue.

Mammon is allowed to be a non-sexual masochist. I don't know why people think all kinks are sexual, BUT HE'S ALLOWED.

I just want to take a moment to acknowledge bloodlust counting as a lust.

Luke is a genuinely deep character with a compelling story and important appearances, and you will be doing better than 99% of the fandom if you just acknowledge that he's more than just a kid who tags along and whines when he's scared (like all kids do when they're his age btw). Kicking him to the side is just another child discrimination case, and you can just say you don't understand him...

Almost everyone if not everyone has had a 1-on-1 in this series, and you're allowed to write about that scenario that "seems ooc" because there's someone out there who wishes that they could write who wants to see them interact, and they haven't found you because you haven't made yourself known.

I think over 75% of the cast has what humans would call a trauma disorder, and you guys have got to stop ignoring the fact that Solmare usually just brushes over stuff that genuinely affects them to keep the plot going. They've done it since the beginning, even before the cursed lesson 16.

Non-character-specific stuff under the cut:

You can headcanon and write any character that you want to as aromantic or on the spectrum. Also, news flash: familial, platonic, romantic, and sexual are not the only relationship labels to exist. Go look up "alterous attraction" if you wanna do something that would line up with, you know, emotions that aren't all centered around how our society depicts stuff.

If they're all built like that and inherently different from humans, neurodivergence may not exist to demons but have fun with the headcanons anyways. The world is your oyster.

[vxsellie]

‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗

a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔦𝔦

summary. to give a final goodbye to someone you love is generally the last thing anyone would ever wish to do. though, when being shipped off to your death, it's the equivalent to being given a final meal whilst on death row.

content warnings. abuse, mentions of death, implications of murder, and (the worst of all) a lesbian breakup

total wc. 5,225

notes!! here she is! i wrote this in one sitting on the night before christmas, literally up until two am bc my thoughts wouldn't stop flowing (ive had writers block for the past few months so you couldn't pry my keyboard from my cold dead hands). anyway here she is! once again, reminder that it's better read on ao3!

𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚

14:45.

DISTRICT SEVEN.

“What were you thinking?” 

Despite how loud Marlene’s voice is, it sounds rather muffled. Ellie’s thoughts all jumble together into a plethora of unintelligible abstraction. This results in outside noises becoming equally as cryptic.

After the Reaping, both tributes were escorted into the Justice Building and forced into separate rooms. Having grown up amid the Games, Ellie’s aware that this is the part where she’s supposed to say her final goodbyes to her loved ones — an hour of time allotted to these farewells. And, despite knowing that all twenty-three other tributes are going through the same thing, Ellie couldn’t feel more alone. There’s a sickening sense of finality to this. Like she’s cattle bred and born to await death. Like there’s nothing more to her life aside from this — being Reaped to never return.

And, with the time given, Marlene has opted to use the entirety of her visit reprimanding Ellie for how she’d acted on stage. Not that she doesn’t deserve to be chastised, she knows she does, but it’s still fucked up.

See, after her name had been drawn, Ellie’s entire world fell out from under her feet. She knew there was a possibility of her name being drawn, she’d be a fool not to at least acknowledge that fact. But to look that fate in the eye and have no way of revoking it? That’s an entirely different pill to swallow. As she stood atop that stage, the escort’s piping voice ringing through her ears, Ellie simply could not seem to comprehend it. But then she felt a weight in her hand, a warmth. She turned to see Riley, her jaw set and her eyes darkened. She grabbed Ellie’s hand and hoisted it into the air.

To Ellie, it was a rather odd thing to do. But, as Marlene is pointing out presently, it was an act of defiance against the Capitol itself. Ellie had no idea. Not that she doubts it, what with Riley’s outward distaste for the government, but it just hadn’t dawned on her that the mere act of holding a friend’s hand would piss off the Capitol. It’s kinda funny.

“What could you possibly be laughing at?” Marlene groans, her pacing coming to a halt as she whips around to face Ellie. Her expression isn’t one of rage, as initially expected. Instead, it’s one of genuine panic. Well shit, apparently holding hands really is treason.

Ellie doesn’t respond, her face dropping instantly. She pins her gaze to the floor, staring at the same rusted nail she’s been looking at for the past ten minutes. In fact, she’d been so zoned out that she hadn’t picked up a single thing that Marlene was trying to say. Usually, this would amuse her. But now, with her impending doom so leering, she can’t help but feel ashamed. She may never see Marlene again. And then what? Her last memory of the girl she’d raised from infantry would be of her zoned out whilst curled into a ball on a dilapidated sofa. That’s rather pathetic, is it not?

She shudders, pulling her knees even closer to her chest at the thought. She doesn’t yet know who was Reaped from the other Districts, but she’s sure they aren’t all pouting on their couches like children. Still, she can’t seem to remove herself from this position — one of self comfort. 

Something touches her knee and she flinches, tearing her gaze from the floor. She looks up to see Marlene sitting beside her on the couch, her gaze softened. Ellie hadn’t even noticed her approach. Fuck. See, this is the exact thing she’s worried about. If she were to zone out like this in the arena, she'd be dead within minutes.

“You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?” Marlene asks with a sigh. A wave of guilt washes over Ellie’s body before she nods, admittedly having heard nothing. “I was saying I’m sorry. I don’t mean to shout at you like this, especially considering the situation. I’m only lecturing you because I’m worried. I’ve seen the Capitol kill people for less than holding hands.”

Ellie shakes her head, though the act is faraway. “The Capitol can’t kill us now that we’re tributes. To do so would only result in more defiance from the viewers. They’re anticipating a show, to kill off the characters would be antiprogressive.”

“No, but they can surely make your time in the arena worse.” Marlene points out. 

Ellie thins her lips at this, but ultimately says nothing. This is not what she wants to hear right before being sent to her death. She wants consolation and comfort, not reminders of how little control she has in her own life. But that’s just how Marlene is — she gets stressed and rambles. Most of the time, it's a harmless habit. Right now, though, it’s proving to be rather taxing.

“Look,” She sighs, “I’m not good at this whole thing, talking. Everyone knows that. It’s– Well, it’s the entire reason I never had any kids of my own.” She sighs again trying desperately to make sense of her thoughts and word them in a way that doesn’t sound like an insult. “I never wanted children, but raising you was the best thing that ever could have happened to me. Losing you would thereby be the worst thing to ever happen to me. I only shouted at you because your safety means everything. But— you’re strong, Ellie, and so very brave. If you put your mind to it, you can make it out of that arena. I believe in you. All you have to do is believe in yourself.”

Ellie is certain that’s the most Marlene has ever spoken in one go without shouting or giving up halfway through. And for that, she’s grateful. Ellie swallows harshly, her throat suddenly feeling too big for her neck. She leans forward.

She doesn’t hug Marlene, not necessarily. She simply flops into her, thumping her forehead onto her shoulder. Her body is stiff and her jaw is clenched tight, but the act of the touch still carries a sense of sentimentality to it. Especially considering she and Marlene never hug. In fact, she thinks she only ever hugged her once in her whole life. Again, it’s not anything to pity her for, it’s just their relationship. A fact of life. Some people are touchy, others aren't. And Marlene is definitely among those who are not.

She rubs a hand up and down Ellie’s back, though it’s more so to do something with her hands rather than to comfort her. 

They remain like that for a long time, sitting in silence because neither of them are skilled at voicing their emotions. Ellie’s mind continues to move at a million thoughts per second, though it slows a little in the absence of Marlene’s shouting.

Roughly twenty minutes go by before Marlene pulls away. She has a hand on each of Ellie’s shoulders, a foot between their faces. She stares at her, brown eyes flicking across each one of her features, as though to memorize her before departure. Ellie mimics her, taking in the sight of the woman who raised her — from the slope of her nose to the arc of her brows. Afterall, this might be her last time to do so. No matter how hard she believes in herself.

“I ought to go visit Riley.” Marlene says with an awkward cough, standing from the couch. “She doesn’t have any family aside from you and I.”

It’s true. Riley’s family is rather complicated seeing as she doesn’t have any. It took seven years of being Riley’s friend before she confided in Ellie about her past. And, after hearing it, she couldn’t blame her for her hesitance. 

Her father was a rebel. He hated the Capitol and everything related to it. He wasn’t married to Riley’s mother when she got pregnant, hadn’t even been dating. They simply had a fling and moved on — hence his oblivion to the fact that she’d been a Peacekeeper. Riley’s dad lived a life of tranquil solitude, aside from frequent whippings as punishment for opposing the Capitol so vocally. Truly, he’d been lucky to not be assassinated on the spot for his insubordination. The entirety of Seven knew him for his rebellious nature.

So, when Riley’s mother came forth with an infant in her arms, he was shocked. He couldn’t believe that she’d gotten pregnant. Though, more importantly, he couldn’t believe she was a fucking Peacekeeper. He tried to keep his calm, civilly agreeing to partial custody over their daughter. 

But, when Riley was about four years old, their refined consensus came to an abrupt end. They got into an argument. And a bad one, at that. Nobody knows the exact details to its origin or entailments, but it’s widely known how it ended — Riley’s mother dead and her father as an Avox for the Capitol. His punishment for her murder.

Riley subsequently grew up in an orphanage, though she inherited her father’s rebellious nature and oftentimes escaped over the fence. She’d spent more time in the woods than she had in the decelit building — chopping wood and climbing trees and visiting the Hob. She’d grown rather skilled at it, the illegality of escaping. She met Ellie in elementary. She’d been scaling the fence, intending to flee the school. Ellie had caught her and insisted she teach her how to do it. Begrudgingly, Riley agreed. From there, with many details gone unmentioned, they became friends. Now look at them Reaped for the Hunger Games together. Ugly ending to a beautiful story.

“Yeah.” Ellie agrees curtly to Marlene’s suggestion. “Yeah, she’d appreciate that, I think.”

Marlene nods in agreement prior to turning on her heel and exiting the room.

Ellie sits alone for a few minutes, returning to her humiliating fetal position. She hugs her legs to her chest, dirty shoes on the cushion of the couch. Though the sofa isn’t in the best shape considering the prodding springs and frayed stuffing. She rests her chin on her knee, staring at the rusty nail she’s grown so fond of.

She’s not sure how long she sits like that before a knock is heard at the door. She groggily tells them to enter, causing the door to creak on its hinges. A face pokes inside prior to the body attached. Cat.

Her black hair is done up, pinned into a purposefully messy bun, bangs cut shorter than usual. It looks put together, but in that I-woke-up-like-this way. Her eyelids are colored in a shiny crimson, her lips in the same glossy tint. Her skin looks inhumanly smooth, her eyebrows impossibly thin. She’s wearing a strapless baby pink dress that’s uncomfortably close to the shade of her skin, coming to her midthigh. Her shoes are the same red as her eyes and lips, clicking against the wooden floor as she walks. She looks like a Capitolite in the way her features are accentuated, though human enough for Ellie to still find her attractive

She instantly straightens, confused. “Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a train to the Capitol?”

“Well,” Cat begins, shutting the door softly behind her as she walks over to the couch Ellie is curled atop. She sits down beside her, the cushion dipping under her weight, which instinctively pulls Ellie toward her. “I caused a bit of a scene, insisting I had to see you. And, considering it’s a hassle to find another stylist so late into the Games, I simply dared them to fire me. They didn’t, of course, and instead opted to just give me time to see you, albeit minimal.”

Ellie laughs, though the sound is hollow. This draws a tight expression from Cat as she takes in the sight of the girl before her. Ellie suddenly feels self conscious, wearing a wrinkled linen shirt while Cat looks like a literal fucking deity. Not to mention the pathetic way she’s presenting herself — small and weak. She sits upright, swallowing as she runs her hands down her shirt in a futile attempt at flattening it.

Cat stops her, placing a hand on her wrist. Ellie looks at the place where she touches her, taking in the sight of her perfectly done nails. Baby pink with crimson colored accents. God, every single detail of her is altered for the Capitol’s preference.

“I got you something.” Cat whispers, removing her hand from her wrist to reach into the purse Ellie hadn’t even noticed she carried with her. She holds out her hand, a small piece of metal resting in the center of her palm. A ring, in the shape of a moth. The body is the centerpiece, the wings made to wrap around the finger. “Here,” Cat grabs Ellie’s hand, pulling it forward before slipping the ring onto her index. 

“I love it,” Ellie breathes, holding her hand out in front of her to admire the ring.

“I made it myself.” Cat says. Ellie should have guessed. She knew Cat enjoyed making jewelry, using spoons and other random hunks of metal to concoct something ugly into something pretty. She’s spoken of the hobby before, though she’s never revealed any of the end products. This is Ellie’s first time seeing one of them.

She suddenly recalls the rule that tributes are permitted to bring one token into the arena from home. One thing to remind them of their identities — which are sure to be lost in the Games. Ellie had completely forgotten about the rule, it never having crossed her mind. But looking at this ring now, she’s certain this is the perfect thing to bring. A reminder of home. Not of a place, but of a person. Of Cat.

“I love it.” Ellie repeats more furtively, turning to kiss her.

However, before their mouths are able to touch, Cat lifts her hand to Ellie’s chest. She pushes her away. And, though the act is as gentle as possible, Ellie still feels as though she’d been shoved. She leans back. Cat’s expression is pained, not at all matching the cheerful makeup she wears.

She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut. “I love you, Ellie. Truly. A part of me likely forever will. But– to be in love with you would only end in causing us both an insurmountable quantity of pain. I can’t consciously do that to you. Even our current relationship is deteriorating your mental health. You’re too dependent on what we have, too afraid to lose it. To allow you to continue down this road would be wrong of me. To even have begun it was wrong. And now that you’re going into the arena, I just– adding yet another burden to your shoulder would be wholly immoral.”

Ellie doesn’t know when, but amid that confession, she’d begun crying. Not just due to the breakup, though, if she could even consider it that. But due to everything. Riley distancing herself recently, the Reaping, Marlene’s shouting, Marlene’s halfhearted farewell, and now this? On top of it all?

“So you’re breaking up with me to ease your own fucking conscience?” Ellie snaps. She doesn't mean to say it. She doesn’t. It’s just all become so much for her to carry. And it’s so easy to drop it on Cat after what she’d just done.

“No.” She insists, nigh pleading in her denial. “Ellie, no, you know that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then why even give me this?” She asks, holding out her hand with the ring on it. “For me to bring a reminder of your absence into the arena?”

“No, no.” Cat continues to deny Ellie’s accusations. “Not to remind you that I left, but to remind you why I left.”

Ellie scoffs, “Now you’re just saying shit. You’re not even trying to make sense.”

“Moths, Ellie.” She says, grabbing her hand in desperation for her to just fucking listen. “They’re attracted to the light. No matter where they go or– or what environment they’re placed in, they find a light. Something to always keep them going. Something to fight for. Something to reach. I’m holding you back, don’t you see? I don’t want you to fight to get home. I want you to fight because you know you’re worth it. You’re worth living for, even without me or Riley or Marlene. For you. Be your own moth, your own light.”

Ellie wipes roughly at her face, fists scrubbing at her eyes painfully. She wishes she had something clever to say. Something smart that would make Cat rethink everything. But all she can muster is a mumbled, “Moths are fucking ugly.”

14:45.

DISTRICT FOUR.

Your ears are ringing, a loud chiming sound that makes your head swim. Despite this, you keep your chin high as your mother shouts orders at you. You’ve long since tuned her out, which is something you’d never had dared to do prior to the Reaping. But you’re being sent to the arena — you’ll either die in there and never see her again, or you’ll come back a victor and thereby be of higher status than her. Whatever you do now matters naught.

She’s rambling on about something regarding orders to return home. Not because she cares for your wellbeing, but because it’d shame the entire family if you were to die on live television. 

She’s standing across the room from you, her pale blue dress somehow perfectly cleaned despite the journey she made across the grassy courtyard to the Justice Building. Her wrinkled face is contorted into an unreadable expression, the illegibility irritating you. Her golden cane is perched under her clasped hands. God, the woman is the embodiment of power despite having earned none. 

“I get it.” You cut her off, tone just as sharpened as hers, almost as though you’d spent years honing it into a blade serrated enough to challenge her. “I’ll come back. If not, you’ll be embarrassed. Poor you, right?”

The expression of shock on her face is almost worth the punishment — which ends up being hit by the end of her cane. Had it been the usual wood, the pain would be tolerable. But it’s pure gold, causing your mouth to fill with blood. You spit onto the floor and she begins to reprimand you for doing that, deeming it to be improper. You ignore her, massaging your newly bruised face.

The punishment for your statement would likely have been far more severe if you weren’t destined to be put on camera for the country to gawk at. A wound on your face would be shameful. A bruise, though? Your prep team can surely cover that up with a bit of makeup.

She finishes her castigation, seeming to have worn herself out. She then turns and storms out of the room. You almost didn’t notice her swift exit, as she’d made no effort to say goodbye or wish you luck. Just ten minutes of shouting prior to causing a splitting headache and a bruise to the jaw, uncaring to hear you utter a single syllable. Best mom ever.

See, most people deem this event as emotional — an hour allotted to parting ways with your loved ones. But your mother doesn't see this as a parting. She expects to irrefutably see you again. And very shortly, at that.

You’re alone in the room for only a few seconds before a shy knock is heard at the door. You’re confused by this, unsure of who else could be here to see you. “Come in.” You call out, moving to stand over the stain of blood you’d left on the shiny hardwood floor. Thankfully, your dress is long enough that the skirts cover up the space beneath you.

The door opens and a wrinkly old man pops inside. Your lips part at the sight of mister Alden entering the room. You rush forward, offering your aid in his walking. He takes it, looping his arm around the crease of yours.

There’s a small couch with two cushions in the corner of the room. You walk him over to it, easing him onto the sofa before sitting next to him. You cross your legs, “What are you doing here? I know it’s a far journey from where you live.”

He sighs, “You’re like a daughter to me, Y/n. And, though neither of us are willing to address that aloud, we’re both well aware of it. I’ve known you since you were three years old and just learning how to walk. In fact, I can vividly recall the very day I’d met you — you were asleep on your brother’s back, clinging to him like a sloth as he made the trek down to the docks. You were such a small thing, then. Chubby little face and a diaper that didn’t fit.” He smiles fondly, looking at you as though he still views you that way, a baby. “The point is, to not visit you would be cruel. And I’m not a cruel man.”

Your eyes burn as you listen to him. He’s right. You both know it. You and Ruben are like children to him. And he is definitely not a cruel man. You wonder if he’d visited Ruben when he was Reaped. Probably. But you don’t dare ask, not wanting to speak of your brother any more than necessary.

“Oh!” He jolts as though he’d just remembered something vitally important. 

You watch as mister Alden reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a dainty necklace. A white pearl resides in the center, acting as a pendant to the thin silver chain. Your gaze softens as you look at it hanging between his shaky fingers.

“It’s beautiful.” You tell him.

“I want you to have it, to take it into the arena.” He says. “You remember my granddaughter, the one who was facing her first Reaping today? She made it for herself, and planned to wear it into the arena had her name been drawn. She spent weeks searching for the perfect pearl, then another few weeks saving up money to buy the chain.”

Your chest twists at hearing this. You could easily buy something like this from a small shop down by the beaches. It wouldn’t even cost you a day’s allowance. You shake your head. “I can’t take this from her. It’s too special.”

“I insist.” Says he. “When she heard your name called, she instantly turned to me, slipped the necklace into my pocket, and demanded that I bring it to you.” He lets out a light chuckle. “Her ferocity reminds me of you, actually. I don’t even remember telling her about my visits to your house. No shock she found out, though, she’s so bright for her age.”

With a grunt, he pushes to his feet. You rush to do the same, standing beside him in case he needs assistance. Instead of asking for aid, he tells you to turn around. Without hesitation, you oblige. You then feel something cold wrap around your neck. You look down to see the thin necklace now placed across your collarbones. It’s absolutely stunning. Mister Alden fumbles with the clasp, his shaky hands struggling to work the tiny thing.

When he finally gets it on, you turn around to see that he has tears in his eyes. He takes in the sight of the pearl necklace paired with the navy dress, the silver chain matching the silver diamonds adorning it. He nods, wiping roughly at his eyes. “You’ve grown into such a lovely young woman.”

You swallow the lump in your throat before pulling him into a hug, having to hunch over a bit due to his lack of height. He hugs you back, sniffling. It’s rather telling that the random stranger that you buy your seafood from is more caring than anyone in your family. But he’s not a stranger, is he?

After a few minutes of sentimental embrace, he finally parts from you and leaves. On the way out, you catch a glimpse of a tear rolling down his cheek, the droplet catching the light for a split second.

Alone in the room with about ten minutes remaining, you walk over to the window. You look at your reflection in the shined glass, taking in the sight of the necklace. Knowing how long it’d taken to create only adds to its beauty. The dresses your mother has fitted for you are paltry; replaceable. But this? Nobody could recreate the months spent making it, nor could they recreate the small hands that did so.

The sound of footsteps entering the room draws you from your thoughts. You catch his reflection in the window before he’s even fully through the door. Your entire body tenses, something shifting in the air at his presence. Something deep, deep inside you. Like the atoms that make up your very being have been furtively yearning for this moment. For his proximity.

You turn to face him fully.

Ruben.

You’ve seen him around, of course. You’d seen him less than an hour ago. Everyone has seen him, what with the Capitol flashing him around nigh as much as the country’s flag. He’s their brightest diamond and their largest star — the abnormal mixture of UY Scuti with Sirius, creating something impossible to tear one's eyes away from.

You two have spoken as well, albeit in short increments and only when mandatory. So, truly, you’re not sure if it counts in terms of conversation.

He shuts the door slowly, facing you with an unreadable expression. No– that can’t be right. You could always read him, you could always understand him. But right now, not a single word comes to mind as you look at him. He’s a closed book that you’d once memorized every page of.

He stares at you for a moment, gaze lingering on the bruise forming on your cheek. You wonder if you should hide it or not. But he likely knows exactly how it was induced — knowing the feel of your mother’s cane all too well, as he’d grown up taking hits for you daily. It takes a few minutes, but he eventually tears his eyes from your face and looks around the room, looking at the intricate ceiling or the swaying chandelier.

“Been a while, huh?” He huffs a laugh, though it’s dry and lacking any scrap of genuine humor.

You think about this, about what he said. It’s been a while. The world’s biggest understatement, that is. You’re suddenly filled with an immeasurable amount of rage. It’s been eleven fucking years. And he has the nerve to say it’s been a while?

Eleven years since he was Reaped. Eleven years since he was the one in this room. Eleven years since you came to visit him, sobbing and begging him not to go to the arena. Eleven years since Ruben returned from the arena. Eleven years since your brother never returned. Eleven years since the boy who raised you, who protected you, who taught you to walk and talk and eat, vanished.

You say nothing to him, not trusting yourself to speak without either screaming or crying. Or, most likely, both. So, insead, you remain silent.

Ruben sighs, leaning back against the wall with crossed arms. Something about that action makes you visibly wince. He’s so confident. The Ruben you knew was an awkward young boy, made complete with lanky limbs and oversized eyes. Strange little habits — like the way he didn’t ever know what to do with his arms, or the way he always tapped his left foot when he was nervous — made him human. But not anymore. He now knows exactly what to do with his arms and he wouldn’t dare show when he’s nervous. His humanity is just another thing the Capitol stripped him of.

“You don’t have to say anything, just listen.” Says Ruben. He then inhales deeply, his jaw set and eyes piercing; a Capitolite in all but name. “This is the last time we won’t be monitored. After leaving this room, everything will be tracked and recorded and analyzed — the train, the center, the arena. From here, you’re never alone. Even in the bathrooms, privacy doesn’t exist.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “So you’re saying you need to tell me something the Capitol can’t hear?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, “Exactly.”

“Okay, so what is?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Of course that’s what he’s here for. Not to wish you well or say goodbye — though he likely also expects you to win; he was raised by the same monsters, after all — but, instead, to warn you. To make sure you survive the arena so as to not penetrate the family name.  

“Something is wrong with this year’s Reapings.” He explains. “Districts Two and Three both had a pair of siblings Reaped – Lev and Yara from Two, Sam and Henry from Three. Then, if that weren’t enough proof as is, Districts Five and Seven both Reaped a set of best friends — Selene Jones and Ariande Evans from Five, Riley Abel and Ellie Williams from Seven. Not to mention the pair of lovers that were Reaped from Six — Roland Jennings and Archie Bardot.”

You take in what Ruben is saying, thinking hard about it. You were Reaped alongside a small child, a little boy who you’d never seen before in your life. That doesn't seem rigged, but there ought to be some kind of intentional malice behind it.

“How do you know all of this?” You ask, though you know the answer. “The Reapings haven’t aired yet.”

“I know people.” He says rather ashamedly, as though he’s already aware of the kind of reaction this will draw from you. 

Anger sparks up once more at the mention of his ties to the Capitol. Not only is he using the Capitol to help you in the games — a perk no other tribute has — but he’s managed to fucking memorize every name name of importance. You don’t want to be treated as some sort of celebrity. You were Reaped with equally poor luck as Lev, Henry, or Ellie; or whatever their names were. You should therefore be held to the same expectations, not given hints into the Games. Which, by the way, is highly illegal. Not like Ruben would be punished. He could probably murder a Peacekeeper on stage and manage to get away with it. 

It makes you sick.

“Okay, great.” You bite. “You told me what you needed, you can leave now.” “No, Y/n, you’re not understanding.” He insists, taking a step forward. You take one backward, almost on instinct. A pained expression crosses his face, though it vanishes just as quick as it’d appeared. He sighs, running a hand down his face. “These tributes won’t be killing for the sake of winning, they’ll be killing to save themselves alongside their loved ones. Had you and I been in the arena together, our strength would have doubled. Just imagine that. For at least five other Districts, their wills to live are multiplied. And the—”

His words are cut off as the door slams open and Peacekeepers come filing into the room to rudely announce that your time is up. It’s time to board the train to the Capitol. To the Games.

[post] notes!! don't really have any (for once), i'm just so so so so excited for u guys to read this bc i write things way prior to posting bc i like to proofread like 50 time before releasing it. anyway yeah, u guys barely know abt this bad boy while im typing this

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[jazeswhbhaven]

What truths would kings reveal to mc while being drunk?

Assuming the kings could even get drunk....I have quick thoughts about this:

Satan: "I may miss him, but he's nothing like you.."

Mammon: "If you wanted to throw me away because I lost value, I'd change myself so you'd cherish me again."

Beelzebub: "I wish I could remember what you mean to me, it's annoying that my heart keeps hurting when I'm away from you."

Leviathan: "I don't want to kill you, but you scare me. I don't like what I feel when I'm around you. Not even that man could do this to me..."

Lucifer: "I wish my brothers could be with me right now. I want them to be devils...so we can be a family again."

Belphegor: "Wanna know sumthin' funny? I jack it Agares' room when he ain't there. His bed is soft 'an clean..." (Also another one for him: "Beleth is more like a wife than he is a noble, naggin' me and such. He fucks like one too.")

Asmodeus: "Sometimes, I just wanna fuck hard and slow....forever so you never leave....so I can forget everything..."

What do I mean for each:

S: He's referring to Solomon. He does still miss MC's ancestral grandpa, a lot in fact. He just knows it's pointless to dwell on it and ignores those feelings because it takes focus off of MC.

M: He's still dealing with the trauma of his childhood, he feels he needs to be accepted by MC and feel wanted and if he fails then he has to keep trying.

B: His memory laspes are his worst enemy and aides to his lingering loneliness. He doesn't like feeling sad, if he can remember how to be sad in the first place.

L: MC stirring up feelings inside of him gives him anxiety. He doesn't like showing weakness, but MC makes him want to be vulnerable. He's never wanted to be so helpless and be protected. He's always had to be the strong one.

Lu: He doesn't regret his choice, but he regrets tolerating his brother's actions and the will of God for so long. He wishes he had done something different, and he wants them around. It genuinely hurts him that they aren't there.

B: He's honestly goofy and says whatever he feels like when drunk. That's why nothing he admits is to be taken seriously and he laughs a lot during while slurring his words.

A: He just admitted to MC that sex for him is like a coping tool most times, because he's still hung up on Solomon's rejection...and the passing of his wife.

[secretlysamcro]

Unspoken feelings

Part 1

Female Reader x Jax Teller threatening & explicit language, drug use, possible spoilers. If you're under the age of 18, haven't finished the show, easily offended or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request: Hey! I loved your recent Jax fic. I would love to see one with a reader he has loved since they were kids but nothing had ever happened between them, until she comes to him knowing he will protect her when she needs him. Thank you 😊

Back story: y/n and Jax had a special bond that went back to childhood. Growing up together, you were practically inseparable, forming a tight trio with Jax and Opie. The three of you were like three pieces of the same puzzle, As time passed, things began to change. You had a few relationships during your teenage years - and so did Jax, but none of them too serious enough to last, Until Wendy came along. There had always been a push and pull between you and Jax. An unspoken tension between the both of you that had never been acted upon. All three of you now are grown up and getting on with your own lives dealing with your own shit.

Jax has had an on and off relationship with Abel’s mother, Wendy since their teenage years. The divorce has just been finalized and Wendy who is once again hooked on drugs has been forbidden from seeing Abel. Jax has made it clear that he won’t be allowing Wendy to see their son until she is completely clean.

Time has passed since your last conversation with either boys, and you can’t help but notice how disconnected things have become. It’s as if distance has grown between you, leaving only brief exchanges of casual interactions and small talk. The close bond no longer existing.

Y/N: Hey Jax, haven’t heard from you for a while, thought I’d message but I know it ain’t easy being king and ur probs just wrapped up in the club but I hope everything’s ok. Hows Abel and Wendy? He must be getting so big now, nearly four right?

Jax feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. When he takes it out, he’s sees nothing but your name on the screen. A small but genuine smile creeps on his face.

Despite the distance, he’s always appreciated the thoughtfulness of you, sending messages on special occasions. Birthdays, memorials, Christmas etc and also checking in from time to time. He tries his best to do the same, but club responsibilities and being a father often get in the way, leaving him with little time.

Jax knows that your mention of Wendy is more of a polite gesture than actual well wishes. The two of you never saw eye to eye in your youth, she always noticed how Jax paid close attention to you, even if you weren’t always aware of it.

A few years ago, you had the unwanted privilege of escorting Wendy to hospital, alongside Jax, as you had found her OD’d on heroin, whilst heavily pregnant with Abel. This was a main factor as to why you and Jax had become so distant, he never wanted to hear you say ‘I told you so’ when it came to Wendy, so he took a step back from you, finding it hard dealing with married life, when the person he really wanted to be with, was you.

[flashback to the night Wendy OD’d]

“Any updates?” You ask Jax, as you step back into the hospital waiting room, getting off the phone from informing Gemma of the situation. “Your Moms on the way, she’s just leaving Luanns”.

“She’s stable, but said they need to keep an eye on her-” Jax’s sentence is cut short as you immediately chime in.

“I don’t give a shit about her, what about your unborn child?” You hiss at him, knowing he knows full well you couldn’t give a fuck about Wendy.

“Drop it y/n don’t be like that, not right now” Jax says in a firm warning tone. You’ve heard this side of Jax a million times, just never towards yourself.

You roll your eyes at him, knowing now probably isn’t the time to tell him you were right about Wendy all along. You both sit down in the waiting area; as you wait for any sort of news.

About 15 minutes later, the corridoor door opens and in walks another doctor. Pretty and tall, her hair clipped up to keep it out of her face. Jax would recognise her from a mile away, and so did you.

“When did she come back?” You ask, slightly scoffing whilst looking at Jax as you both stand up, ready to hear what she has to say. His facial expression displaying the exact same question.

“Tara?” Jax says, as she gets closer, she ignores the fact that you are standing alongside Jax. Another one of Jax’s love interests you never got along with.

“Her hands and feet were full of tracks, toxicology reports aren’t back yet, but it’s most likely crank” Dr Knowles tells Jax, as you stand comforting him. Holding his hand gently with your own.

“The baby?” Jax says frantically, grabbing back at your hand now, eager to hear what Tara has to say.

Tara takes a deep breath before letting Jax know the news. “We had to do an emergency C-section. He’s ten weeks premature”

“Holy shit” Jax says, looking towards you in disbelief.

“Is he gonna be okay?” You ask Tara, as she finally makes eye contact with you.

You hear the faint sound of footsteps coming from behind as Tara continues to talk.

“He’s got a congenital heart defect and gastroschisis… a tear in his abdomen. The gastro and early birth are from the drugs but the CHD is-”

“The family flaw” Gemma says, as she stands behind you, overhearing what Tara has to say.

Stepping back, you give Jax and Gemma their privacy to continue the discussion with the Dr.

You wait anxiously fidgeting as the minutes pass by. From the corner of your eye, you notice Tara assisting another patient. A few moments later Clay walks in, heading straight in the direction of Jax and Gemma.

As soon as Tara is out of sight, you hurry down to the ICU. You join Gemma and Clay, quietly watching as Jax holds his tiny new born for the first time. A small smile on his face as you lip read the words he whispers to his baby boy. “I’m your old man”.

Gemma turns as she senses your presence. “Hey sweetie” she says softly, rubbing your shoulder gently. “Thank you for getting them here so quickly, I can’t thank you enough. I don’t even want to imagine how things could have ended if you hadn’t rushed that junkie whore over here in time”

You place your hand over Gemma’s, a silent agreement with her words. “You’ll let Jax know I’m thinking of him?” You ask Gemma, Clay nodding at you beside her. “And congratulations… Grandma…” you look over at Clay smiling “…Grandpa” you turn around, taking one last look at Jax and his son, before leaving the hospital and Charming once again.

[end of flashback]

You never knew this, and nobody else did apart from Jax and Opie, but the only reason he ever got with Wendy was to distract himself from not being able to have you. Not being brave enough to admit the feelings he’s had for you since you were kids. Wendy seemed like the easiest option. In hindsight though; he wishes he had never even met her, but then he wouldn’t have Abel, and he’s the best thing to ever happen to him.

You were equally at fault though; you never expressed your true feelings to Jax in fear of rejection. Instead, you observed from a distance as he got involved with Tara, witnessed his heartbreak when she left for Chicago, and saw him meet Wendy; which eventually ended in pregnancy and marriage. All of this led you into a pressured relationship, pulling you away from your hometown, your friends and family, and from Jax.

Jax thinks it’s best not to mention anything about his divorce, or Wendy's current situation as he knows you’ll have something to say about it, so he keeps the text short and brief. Almost as if he hardly knew you.

Jax: Hey y/n. All good here. Keeping the club in line ain’t easy. Abel’s nearly 4 ur right, hope you’re doing well.

Your expression changes to a frown as you read Jax's text message, noticing how sharp and cold his tone is, far different from the Jax you remember. You make a decision to reach out to Opie, thinking he might have some insight into what’s going on with Jax.

Y/N: Hey Ope, hope you and the family are doing well. Just messaged Jax and he seems a bit off? Is everything okay? Was thinking about you all today I might come down soon for a few days. If you’re both around. Let me know!

Opie reads your text and laughs, having a good idea that jax hasn’t filled you in on the details of his recent divorce. He glances over at Jax who’s already in a shitty mood and remarks, “You still haven’t told y/n?” He says, as he brings his cigarette back up to his mouth.

Jax looks puzzled when Opie accurately guesses that he hasn't shared any recent news with you. Opie tosses him the phone, and Jax scans through your text message, as he realises that you're completely in the dark about his recent life developments. “She ain’t around any more so what does it matter? She left to be with that asshole and hasn’t looked back since” Jax says as he chucks the phone back to Opie.

“Did you expect her to wait around for you?” Opie says, shaking his head in Jax’s direction.

“What do you mean wait around for me?” Jax stares out Opie.

“Nothing” Opie hushes, knowing that silence is his best option. He had always been the mediator of the trio - since you were kids, Jax would relay information about you to Ope, whilst you would share your thoughts about Jax with him too, leaving him in the middle of the unspoken love between the two of you. He knew how hard it was for Jax to see you strutting round with other guys who weren’t him, and he knew how hard it was for you when you found out Wendy was pregnant and soon to be married to Jax.

Opie can feel the burn from Jax’s side eye, quickly thinking of something to say, Jax knows that Opie is aware of his feelings towards you and the reasons behind his defensive attitude when it comes to you. Opie uses this opportunity to remind him that it’s not your fault for being oblivious to his emotions. How are you suppose to act upon his unspoken feelings?

Opie bluntly tells Jax, "Maybe if you had the guts to tell her how you felt about her, she'd still be here, and you wouldn’t be stuck with a drug lovin’ ex-wife".

You were always considered like the little sister Opie never had, and that protective instinct had carried on into adulthood. Even if you weren’t as close as you once were. Which is why he still felt the need to defend you in your absence.

“I’m just saying…didn’t think she’d care to know” Jax says, banging his box of cigarettes on the table, knowing he has nothing to say in his defence as Opie is 100% right. He still doesn’t quite understand what Ope meant by you waiting for him though.

"Her coming back to see us only means one thing anyway…” Opie continues, “…she’s probably finished with that douche so she’s finally allowed to come back and see us” He begins replying to your text.

“Well it can’t be that bad… she packed up her whole life for him…” the jealousy in Jax’s tone shining through. Opie smirks and shakes his head towards the jealousy presented by Jax, as he sends his reply to you.

Opie: All good here thank u y/n. Cnt speak for Jax he’s in a world of his own. Lmk if ur planning on stopping by… you bringing your old man? would be nice to see u. It’s been a while. Lylas heard all about u and wants to meet u. - Ope

You roll your eyes at Opies question about your ‘old man’. Hiding your own love life, you don’t respond to the text at all, but internally making the decision that you were in fact going to visit.

It's only been a few days since your breakup, and your ex is currently crashing at his friend's place. However, you don't want to be there when he returns, knowing that it could lead to another confrontation. You grab your laptop, eager to find a place to stay just outside of Charming. You know that anyone from home would have let you stay with them whilst you’re in town, but you decide to do this bit on your own. So you don’t waste any time reading reviews. The first place you see is only about 10 minutes from the clubhouse and, best of all, it’s cheap. Decision made. You’ll be back in Charming sooner than you thought.

[The next morning]

You collect all of your essential belongings, packing them in a hurry and carefully loading them into your car. You don't even bother with any unnecessary or replaceable items, knowing deep down that your departure is final.

You miss everyone back home and crave the familiar faces, even if things have gotten a bit…awkward lately. Leaving well early in the morning, the drive back to Charming took about an hour. Giving you the perfect chance to clear your head. Thoughts of the future swirl through your mind, uncertainty and questions. You wonder where you’ll go, what you’ll say if someone asks about your situation and how you’ll handle the inevitable “we told you so’s” from the ones who saw through your ex’s charming nature before you left to start a new life with him.

He was a narcissist, completely consumed by his own reflection and oblivious to anyone else's feelings or needs. Everything revolved around him, and only him, Of course when you first got together he was the complete opposite. The ideal man for you, the one who convinced you to leave Charming and your familiarity behind. Part of you knows, deep down, that he was also a big reason you stopped keeping in touch with the boys as much as you should have.

He knew about the bond you shared with Jax and Opie, Jax especially and he hated it, hated the way they had your back in ways he never could. On the rare occasion when you were all present in the same room, he saw how protective Jax was of you, how he looked at you and how you looked back at him, in the exact same way.

Jax watches as Opie takes off his helmet and dismounts his motorcycle, Jax swiftly doing the same thing.

“Yo… Ope…” Jax calls out to Opie, as he moves towards the clubhouse. “y/n text you back?” He shouts out.

“Nah, heard nothing back from her… maybe try calling” Opie says, with a tinge of cockiness, knowing Jax would feel a way about calling you and also not wanting to be the middle man any longer.

Before Jax can even argue the idea, Opie walks briskly back into the club house, leaving Jax to ponder his options. Jax sighs as he mutters to himself, “I guess I'll do it,” scrolling through his phone's contact list to find your name. His hands tremble ever so slightly as he holds the phone to his ear, waiting anxiously to see whether you answer or not.

you take a deep sigh as you settle down onto the bed, after carrying the last of your belongings into the motel room. As you glance around, you take in fragments of your life scattered about. Little items that you had brought with you from the place you used to share with your ex. You have no idea what the hell you're going to do from here, but at least here is home, in Charming.

Your phone starts ringing, and you're certain of who it is. You take your phone out of your pocket and roll your eyes at the sight of your ex's name lighting up the screen. It can only mean one thing, he has finally realised that you've moved on and won't be coming back. You ignore the call placing your phone back on the bed. As the call ends, it rings again. You pick up the phone getting ready to block his number, but this time a different name is displayed across the screen.

“y/n?” Jax says in a low tone, Jesus Christ how you missed his rough voice.

“Hey” Is all you manage to get out. Actually hearing him speak after so long has made you feel somewhat… nervous.

Jax can’t help but smile at the other end of the phone. He can sense that you were caught off guard by his call.

“Uh… Ope mentioned that you might be coming home soon… I was just calling to check when… you know, if you are” he says, fumbling over his words.

“Yeah I…-I’m actually already here… well sort of…” you laugh lightly.

“Oh shit… when did you get- wait what do you mean sort of?” He questions, confused by what you mean.

“I’m like 10 minutes out, staying at the Rockstaff motel”

“A motel? You staying there with what’s his face?” Jax can’t even bring himself to use your exs name, it humours you slightly.

“No.. I- it’s just me…” you refrain from going into detail.

“So why are you staying at a motel? You should have called me when you got here. You know you can always come here…or to any of us”

“I know, I know, I just wanted to surprise you guys, like old times… you know?” You rush to explain, not wanting Jax to discover that you’re actually planning on living out of said motel whilst you get everything in order.

“Hmm, always full of surprises you are” Jax’s laughs, walking towards the clubhouse now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You retaliate, slightly defensive.

“Nothing” he snaps back with an awkward laugh. “How long you plannin’ on staying for this time anyway?”

You can hear the attitude in his tone, the way he states ‘this time’ because the last time you saw him was that night Abel was born, and you left without personally saying goodbye.

“Ahhh so that’s why you’ve been so cold with me the past few years, because I never said bye?” You question, wanting to clear the air of all awkwardness.

“Something like that” he says, clearing his throat as he scratches the back of his neck “You gonna swing by today at some point or-”

“Yeah… if not today then tomorrow” you let Jax know, unsure if you’re willing to brave the awkwardness today or not.

“Okay… cool. You’ll let me know yeah?” His protectiveness still peeking through. “You sure you’ll be ok at that motel?”

“I’m a big girl Jax, I’m good” your words come out through a slight smile. You hear him laugh faintly as he disconnects the call.

As you sit with all your feelings and emotions rolling through your mind, you think it’s best to meet up with Jax first and hash out this weirdness going on between you both, you don’t want it to be over your heads whilst around anyone else. Just as you’re writing out a text, one comes through.

EX: what the fuck all ur stuff is gone wtf are u playing at y/n answer the fucking phone.

And another.

EX: where the fuck are you y/n

And another.

EX: do u think u can leave me! U stupid bitch

And another.

EX: u think im stupid dnt u? Wait till I fucking catch you stupid biker whore

‘Biker whore’ you repeat out loud, you have no idea where that had even come from, you hadn’t associated with them for the past 3/4 years, so why he’d mention that, you were clueless. Threats from your ex weren’t out of the ordinary so you weren’t really phased by the texts he had just sent - he doesn’t know where you are, so you’re safe…right?

You continue looking for Jax in your recent contacts, and begin to message him.

Y/N: Hey, just wondering are u still at ur old place? and are u free right now? I’ll come and see you but if not will just catch up tomorrow with everyone else. Lmk

His reply was quick.

JAX: yeah same place. I’ll be home in about 20 minutes if u wanna come by now.

As you pull up to the once familiar address, you see him waiting for you outside, sitting cockily on his bike, foot balancing on the exhaust and a cigarette In hand. a smile slapped across his face, almost as if he’s as excited to see you as you are him.

Part 2 will be on the way! Apologies for being gone for so long, I’m back & writing again, so bare with lol.

GIFs, photos & music do not belong to me.

Jax Teller masterlist

xoxo secretly samcro

[cryptidafter]

Late to the party but I wanted to share my

Top 5 GLs of 2024! (only counting shows that I watched in 2024 and that finished airing in 2024)

Affair The Series

Nobody is doing obsession like Wan and Pleng! It’s about the drama, the chemistry, the possessiveness. This show gave me everything I’ve been craving for a GL to deliver on and then some. It’s wild to me that this is the first series Lookmhee and Sonya have done together because they’re both phenomenal. These two have had me in a chokehold ever since and I am desperately begging for a new LMSY show as soon as possible!

2. The Loyal Pin

I could go on and on about how much I adored this show. It was a sleeper hit for me and I’m glad I ended up continuing it. The beginning is a bit slow but once things pick up, it’s a great story. Freen and Becky are fantastic together, they really play off of each other well. Becky had some standout moments (that fabric monologue was !!!!). The costuming and detailed set design choices really bring this show to life and I’m not even a huge fan of period dramas. Despite a few questionable story choices, I think TLP delivered on what was promised. Also shoutout to @hallowpen for their write-ups each episode. I definitely learned a lot about Thai culture and customs thanks to them which helped enhance my viewing experience.

3. The Secret Of Us

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention TSOU. This was the first GL series I watched and I haven’t looked back since. It’s cute and a bit melodramatic but in the best way. I wrote two whole fics for this show while it was airing which is proof enough of how invested I was lol. Nothing will ever be quite as unhinged as Earn eating a banana to trigger an allergic reaction just so she can get admitted to the hospital her ex-girlfriend works at. Girl was DEDICATED and I love her for that lol.

4. Blank The Series

Nobody let me know that there was an age gap GL floating around (and that the age gap was the least wild part about the dynamics in this show lol) but better late than never! I’m shocked by how fast I powered through this show but I was hooked. This is another series that fully delivered on the drama with a healthy dose of heat which I appreciated. A fun and wild ride from start to finish!

5. Reverse 4 You

I will always be a sucker for time shenanigans so I was very excited for this one. I do wish it could’ve gotten a few extra episodes to really flesh out the plot towards the end but I appreciate the show for what it is. I enjoyed the relationship between Jattawa and her little sister and that it was equally as, if not more, important than the romance. A few scenes did genuinely shock me in a good way (this was before I discovered that the “someone gets hit by a car” trope was a staple of GLs lol). We have yet to get an actual butch character in a GL but I’m happy we at least got a bit of futch action going with Four (everyone say thank you Christine Gulasatree lol)

[pistol-grippump]

->

Taking it upon myself to actually research into the columbine case has taught me that I really see myself in Dylan. Alas, many people do, but something about him tells me his sadness is my sadness. Something so endearing about the way he felt and how he visualized what he felt that is so strange. It constantly feels like I am the only one who feels this specific type of sad and alone, though I understand it feels like that about many things.

Seeing myself in someone like Dylan Is quite scary, I'd say? I would never go through with things he did, but I can't say the case doesn't have an influence. In total time, I have probably spent more than 7 hours in the last couple days crying and wanting nothing more than to be gone; to have an escape. I don't agree with Dylan and Eric's actions. Of Course, I can find a way to understand but I can admire their suicidal tendencies. I can admire the confidence to have actually taken their own lives.

Of Course though, it was a mix of not wanting to deal with their consequences as well as finding it as the perfect moment, yeah? They had already ruined their lives, he felt as though as Life wasn't worth living. I just want to know if it was fulfilling to him? To Eric? I want to know whether or not it had happened all exactly as they wanted.

It's ashame nobody will know now.

I don't think I could have prepared myself for the recent emptiness I've felt, not so much of a want to have been in Dylan's presence but just so desperate to escape. Maybe it is insensitive but can you blame me for wishing it was me?

Me who they shot? I wouldn't have to do it myself, that's more than enough. And alas, we'd both be dead together after all. A feeling of peace. A chance to genuinely solely understand their thought process.

As someone who is still fairly tame about true crime yet have an insane boundary problem about every case I get infatuated with, I get worried my words will just be seen as surface level fangirling to any of the cases I cling to. And of course this is cringe as well, but I always feel like I have a special sort of understanding towards these people? Not like a, 'i can fix him' way but in a, if I were them, I would illute to the same things.

Obviously their actions are horrible (that goes without saying) but I kind of wish the average person took time to understand that everyone is troubled. I don't believe 'good' people exist in the world. Yes, you can do good acts and you can make good impact, but there are no good people. Perfection isn't possible and I truly feel that the only way to be a good person would be to be perfect.

Everyone is evil. Everyone has faults and hopefully it eats at everyone. I feel like everyone on this planet should feel a sense of hopelessness to an extent; you don't know what it's like to be dead. You don't know if your actions here have genuine consequences when you're dead and gone. You don't know anything, neither do I. Neither did Eric and Dylan, neither did anyone who did similar acts. Nobody here knows anything. Nobody knows anything about anything and I wish we as a whole could accept that.

It bleeds into religion for me. I have never had faith or anything despite being brought up Christian. It was one of those things that have always just been fantasy to me. The concept of the Bible is so warped, inconsistent, unrealistic. It doesn't seem justifiable under any circumstance to me, good for anyone who can see it in the light but I don't think I could ever think that. There is something so false about any concept of any god or afterlife.

It's frustrating though because I know I don't truly think that. I think there is some sort of after life, whether it's reincarnation or infinite nothingness for those who died. I just don't think my - or anyones - actions right now have any impact when it's all said and done.

[cirusthecitrus]

Question 6 from the entrapdak question game? :))

Thank you for the ask! There are two terrible takes that to this day make me believe that some antis watched spop skipping every scene that had Hordak in it

Well, the first one is more of a crazy conspiracy theory, but I still wanna mention it - "Entrapdak is a pedo ship cause Entrapta was meant to be a teenager" and "her age was actually retconned so the writers could ship Entrapta with Hordak". I do wish that Entrapta's age was confirmed in the show itself, cause this aspect of her character did genuiely confused a lot of fans, but thinking that she was actually written as a minor but then was aged up just cause the writers wanted to make entrapdak less problematic?? Insane

The other take is "entrapdak bad because Hordak was manipulating Entrapta to work for him and was abusive towards her". And it used to be such a prevalent opinion in the main fandom too! I honestly think those people just hated Hordak sooo much (mainly for being a threat to Catra) that they were making shit up to make him even more evil and irredeemable so everyone would stop liking him or wishing him a happy ending. Many also loved Entrapta, but hated Hordak so much that they imagined he'd be a terrible partner to her and were insisting that she "deserved better" and was actually unhappy with him (some fake ass Entrapta fans imo) Like, lets dissect this take again. At first, as fellow Hordak fans always say, Hordak couldn't even manipulate himself out of a plastic bag. Plus there wasnt a single scene where Hordak manipulates Entrapta to do smth for him. It was Catra who made Entrapta side with the Horde and convinced her to work for them. Hordak didnt mind, but he also had no say in this. And when they became lab partners it was Entrapta who forced herself into Hordak's lab and in his life, she was the one always insisting on getting information and knowledge out of him, who insisted on working with him, bro just could not make her leave!

Many used to say Hordak was only using Entrapta for her skills (and also didnt care about her as a person, like hello?? have they seen s4 and 5?) when Hordak never made her do anything she wasnt intersted in - he didnt made Entrapta help him build the portal, she was already curious about portals! he didnt make her take care of him or build him a new set of armor, it was her gift! and he was never forcing Entrapta to stay by his side or be loyal to him or the Horde - she simply enjoyed working on this project and spending time with him. And when Hordak was told that she betrayed him he just... accepted it and never thought about revenge or punishment or anything like that. And he wasnt angry cause he lost a tool that could upgrade his tech or fix his problems, he was devastated because he lost his only friend. But you know who only saw Entrapta as a tool-

Then the abuse part - by that antis usually meant those two moments when he yelled at her/ cut her off while being in pain (and also brushed off Entrapta's hair). Like, yeah, Hordak has anger issues and he does scream a lot, and my boy should work on that, but such behaviour never made Entrapta feel distressed or afraid of him. She was either unbothered by Hordak's attempts at being scary and intimidating, or she was sad FOR him (and slightly dissapointed) - she never took his outbirsts as Hordak being genuinely mad at her, she knew smth was wrong with him, but it had nothing to do with her. He yells when he tries to imitate Prime and make ppl leave him alone, or when he's in so much pain he can't handle it and once again wants to be left alone (all because he himself doesnt feel safe around ppl T-T). Should he still apologize for snapping at Entrapta? Yeah. But is such behaviour abusive? I can be, but in case of Hordak? I dont think so

[firequeenofficial]

I miss the Ranchers. That is all I have to say.

-

When they finally managed to put out the mansion, Jimmy slipped away from the others, finding a quiet spot to hide away. He just needed a moment to breathe. He'd been struggling ever since he'd first seen Tango with Etho, Skizz and Impulse.

He'd never felt anything like this before, like a part of him was missing, broken off, stolen. He saw Tango laughing with his friends, and his heart ached. He had once made Tango laugh like that. He had once been the person Tango relied on. Now, he watched his soulmate, his Rancher, with the others, and it was like he didn't even care, or didn't remember. He hadn't even reacted when Jimmy had called him, "Rancher".

He wondered whether Joel felt the same way watching Etho. He didn't think so - Joel had barely stopped laughing since he'd found him, except to rage about the mansion being set on fire, of course. Besides, Joel wouldn't even remember Double Life.

He sat at the top of a hill in the south-east corner of the world, watching the sun rise beyond the border. He was grateful everyone seemed to want to base close together this season; it left plenty of free space to hide away.

He hated this. He hated being one of only three people who ever remembered each season. He hated Grian for forcing this on him. He hated the Watchers for forcing it on Grian. More than anything, he hated himself for not being able to do anything but whine about it. Grian was his brother, he should have been able to help him, but there was nothing he could do.

He wondered if Pearl felt anything, watching Scott with Martyn. Was there any part of her that missed him, even though they'd done nothing but fight the whole time they were soulbound? She couldn't remember Last Life, he knew, but did some part of her long for it anyhow? He wished he could speak with her about it, but she would probably just call him silly. No one else pined after their alliances from previous seasons, after all. It was just him that was so pathetic that he longed for the first person to be genuinely gentle with him.

That didn't make it any easier, after all. It didn't make him long any less. It didn't make Tango suddenly mean nothing to him.

He missed him.

That was the plain and simple truth of it. He missed Tango. Void, he missed him so damn much it hurt.

He sighed and dropped his face into his hands, fighting back tears. He was completely alone, but he still couldn't bring himself to feel it all, not so strongly, not all the way.

He just had to move on. It was that easy. He just had to let the Bad Boys be his new people, and he had to let Team TIES be Tango's new people, and he had to leave it at that.

He could do that.

Jimmy took a deep breath and leaned back slightly, turning his attention back to the brightening horizon. A breeze ruffled his hair.

The pain lessened, just slightly.

"Jimmy?"

The pain came back full force, and he froze.

No. No, he couldn't be here. Not now, not when he'd committed to letting him go.

Jimmy didn't turn. He didn't say anything.

After a moment's hesitation, Tango sat down beside him. Jimmy didn't move. He didn't look at him.

"Wow, what a view." Tango's heart clearly wasn't in the observation, though.

Silence was Jimmy's only response.

Tango apparently decided that beating about the bush was overrated. "Are you upset with me?"

Jimmy closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at him. "No." That was true, at least. He was upset about Tango, not with him.

The blazeborn let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I would hate for you to be mad at me. I don't know how I'd do this without my Rancher."

Jimmy was so surprised that he snapped his eyes open and his head around to face him. "What?"

He was met with a smirk that he'd learnt to adore. "What, you didn't think I'd forgotten, had you?"

He remembered. He remembered! Jimmy could have cried with joy! Tango remembered him!

But Jimmy didn't cry. Instead, he let out a loud, jubilant laugh and launched himself at his Rancher, throwing his arms around Tango's neck. The pair fell to the ground, both laughing, clinging to each other. Jimmy buried his face in Tango's neck, holding on like Tango might disappear the moment he let go.

"You really did think I forgot, didn't you," Tango realised, and held him closer.

"I thought I lost you." Jimmy's voice was muffled by Tango's shirt collar.

Tango huffed a small laugh, running his hands through Jimmy's hair. "We're in this together, buddy. Even if we're on different teams, you'll always be my Rancher."

This was what Jimmy had been missing. Two whole seasons, he'd searched for this. For something who cared for him no matter what, in thick or thin, even across lifetimes. Tango was... exactly what he needed. Exactly what he wanted.

Jimmy sighed, his breath shaky. He was going to be okay.

Whatever happened this season, he was going to be okay. He could face whatever with his Rancher by his side.

They were going to be okay.

[bunnywan]

idk if u take prompts but even if u don’t, i hope you’d at least appreciate hearing this, because you’ve written some of my favourite obikin fics and i need to say it to someone bc i’m never gonna be able to write obikin half as well as i think the ship necessitates:

obi-wan and anakin run into a man wearing a shirt that says some witty pun about how dungeon masters make the rules (or a tusk love shirt or smth), and obi-wan overhears anakin’s unusually enthusiastic conversation with him, hearing anakin talk about how he sneaks out every zhellday he can to play, enjoys when his players carry rope, how he likes to play out emotional scenes, how it’s really fun when a player uses the rules against him, how he as a dungeon master loves to create pain and suffering for his players, before clarifying the good kind of pain and suffering. how important it is to set boundaries and expectations beforehand. maybe they do this in huttese so obi-wan only catches words he knows? and obi-wan being both a normie who hasn’t even seen the lord movies and the sluttiest whore in the order (whose knowledge of huttese extends to swears anakin has taught him and sex terms others have taught him), obviously takes this to mean that anakin goes weekly to a sex dungeon to control kinky group sex, and so now must agonize over his padawan having regular kinky group sex, especially as anakin has seemed much more relaxed these days, especially after zhelldays, which he does usually seemed excited for

anakin, however, is oblivious to the misconception plaguing his master, as he is a nerd who is meeting with a weekly group to dm a dungeons and dragons campaign, and hasn’t told obi wan because he knows that there is literally nothing more boring than listening to someone talk about a dnd campaign you’re not part of

(obi-wan eventually learns the epic romance between anakin and padme is just between padmes character and an npc, and the holo calls were just a videocall of their session, and the reference to spreading was actually just padmes campaign spreadsheet. i actually have no idea how this resolves but the miscommunication is hilarious in my head)

again, you don’t have to do anything if u don’t want to, but i had a pressing need to type it out and see if u had any Thoughts. have a nice day!

[vvienne]

I literally woke up in the middle of the night like God will dark rise is so fucking screwed. The line that’s like. “Everyone wanted to kill the Dark King.” What’s the part where he looks at Violet helplessly, haunted, almost pleading for mercy? But of course he reveals nothing of substance to anyone. Elizabeth is too young to understand but the reader knows what “Her relationship with that boy was…unnatural” can mean. Tying him to bedposts? Failing to strangle him? What else? Never not even once seeing beyond a mythological identity Will himself didn’t know he had? What did he think was the reason? That he was just intrinsically hateful? Of course he says nothing. Of course Violet can’t trust him- he’s given her nothing as painfully real as what she’s given him. So he gives her the sword hoping at least he can die at the hands of someone he loved, but even that doesn’t work out - she gives the sword to a Visander still furious at SARCEAN. The pattern continues; no one looks at Will, who vomits when he realizes what’s happened to James, Will who is much of a liar and killer and sneak as Elizabeth accuses but nonetheless wants to be different. Even when he doesn’t remember his own past. There’s no way out for him that doesn’t hurt. Hope this obsession passes soon given the one and a half years of waiting required for book 3

[gingermintpepper]

Absolutely the funniest thing about my current corner of tumblr is that pretty much everyone I've recently followed for Apollo-Appreciating Purposes are either genuinely Hellenist or just rather very into Rick Riordan's Trials of Apollo series which is wild because I know a net zero about both of those things.

[yappacadaver]

im still so tired mang like fuck. fuckkkk

[tautozhone]

idk how to start this so this post is ab individual action, trying to motivate positive change in the world, etc etc

a lot of growing up in the US for me makes things feel more scary than they are. like it’s actually not that difficult to go out of your way to get a bottle of water or iced cup of water from some random drive through if you think you should do it. either fast food conglomerate or local actually, it’ll usually be cheaper than 5 dollars to get drinkable water. i try to have 5-10 dollars i can justify spending on water, and asking for change, because sometimes when i’m out driving i need to go grab water.

i do not do this for me as much as i try to do it specifically when i see someone who’s most likely homeless on a street corner. i’m sure one day i might do this and they might not be there when i come back, but what have i lost really? a bit of time and a bit of money that would’ve meant more to them, that i can hold onto until i see them next.

the pressure that a lot of people feel when they think “what can i do” comes from this grand narrative that the average citizen can singlehandedly fix the housing crisis. rich people? maybe. nonprofits? not in a day, not all one person still. what can i do is a question i ask a lot. what can i do, not just because it feels bad to move along like nothings wrong with the world, but what can i do that will do anything. what can i do that makes even the smallest change.

i feel like it took me too long to figure out a personal method to what i consider individual action. it’s taking time to get to my own financial stability to be able to do more. but for now it’s as simple as water and cash. not water and food, but water and cash.

individual action means a lot in small steps, go get a bottle of water bare minimum and the price of a meal if you can and then just give it to them. if it wasn’t such a miserably hot place where i live i would keep a pack of water in my car, which i still want to do for the sake of having immediate access to water to give someone who might need it- hot or cold sometimes won’t matter. but when it’s hot out, get cold water, if it’s cold out, a warm tea will hydrate more than coffee will as long as it’s not super caffeinated.

[limerental]

but yeah when starting ep5 I did leap up and exclaim to my perplexed chihuahua THEY KEPT THE FRAMING DEVICE they did the framing device! Twn did a framing device! the whole construction of ep5, though I have some questions about the content, was SO pleasing to me in a narrative stylistic sense. the way we are delivered different pieces of information slowly in new contexts and nothing is linear or obvious immediately is genuinely so good