Misplaced Lens Cap
occasionally subtle
Origami Around
if i look back, i am lost
taylor price
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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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Keni
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@operationophelia
In 2045, our environment changed something in us – changed the way we think, the way we act, the way we look. Some who were blind could now see; some gained superstrength; some developed hybrid attributes with existing animals. They dubbed it THE CHANGE.
It’s 2050. Anything is possible. Join us in the Rift, won’t you?
home. rules. face claims. the lore. application. discord.
marry me (gabe & jenn)
“So, we’ll run, huh? We’ll run. Right now. Let’s go.” Gabe can’t imagine the fate that she has imagined for herself, but he can imagine a life. A different life than the one he has, now, but a life all the same. A life with her in it. With Jennifer. His sister will hate him. His family - whatever it is - will call him crazy, but all he can think is one thing. “I never wanted to leave Dublin,” he blurts, his throat swelling, his eyes filling. “It’s - It’s a lot easier to be alone when it’s just you and your work and the feckin’ dog.” His voice cracks and he kicks at the cheap and stained motel room carpet. “But then, I met you, an’ you made me who I am, Jenn. I didn’ know tha’ I was somethin’ more before I met you. Yes, ’M damn good at my job, an’ aye, I love my family, but Jenn - Jenni, darlin’ you, you’re my family.”
He’s somehow crossed the room during his speech, but he doesn’t realize it until his thumbs stroke Jennifer’s cheekbones. He cups her face, presses a kiss to her forehead, her lips. “I adore you,” he breathes, a tone of manic humor in his voice. “And when I marry you, I will be choosing you over my family. I will lose my job, because dammit, we’re moving. It won’ bother me because it’s everything I’ve already dreamt of doing a thousand times over, but it will matter, because I will be doin’ it with you. Do you understand what I’m sayin’, love? I want a life, yes, but a different one. With you.”
Perhaps her words are barely audible compared to his own as she talks over him (Let’s go, do you even hear yourself right now?) but she doesn’t say a word more as he talks. It’s in fear of agreeing with him, of realizing she comes back time after time after time to him. He stays when she goes, he waits when she returns --- Jennifer knows she can ask him to jump and he’ll say how high.
And maybe that’s why she wants to leave him here as he pours his heart and soul for the taking, turning her own eyes glossy. Maybe that’s why she squeezes her eyes shut when he kisses her forehead, her lips, coaxing her into this world where they can make it. When she looks back up, however, there isn’t regret in his tone nor his gaze. She expects him to disillusion himself the more he talks and yet he’s still here.
“And you’re okay with being labeled a criminal?” she asks, firm because her words have to be. Taking his hand from her face, she squeezes it in her own. Breathe, Jenn. You can breathe. “You’d have your face in the papers, on the news. They’ll tell your family you really are crazy, you would never be safe, and I need--- I need you to know this before you ask me again and I answer because I cannot have you run into this blindly, Gabe.”
marry me (gabe & jenn)
“Do I look like I’m joking?” He doesn’t mean to snap, and it’s as close to the American in his blood (or his accent) as he ever wants to get. He cannot ever recall snapping at Jennifer. Sure, they’ve yelled and they’ve fought, but he’s never turned nasty. With one step back and one deep breath in, he brings his hands up to cradle the back of his head and bites his lip. Brown eyes drift toward the ceiling, and he takes a moment before he really answers her.
“Aye, Jenn. I’m serious. I want to marry you, and I wish you wouldn’ run, because every time you do, I feel like ‘M goin’ to lose you again.” Like asking a fish to stop swimming and grow legs … “An’ don’ tell me that’s how it’s supposed to be, darlin’.” Gabe’s eyes find his shoes.
“No man is supposed to walk around with a gaping hole in his chest.”
What she wants to answer with is yes, he looks like he’s joking. At any second, Gabriel will break this act and step aside, let her go, tell her all the things she needs to hear so she’ll never come back. Except he’s got a bite in his tongue she’s never quite heard before, especially not directed at her; Gabe is angry and Gabe is tired and Jenn hasn’t got a single clue how to get out of a situation for once. It’s then she sucks in a breath and holds it, afraid to let it go. He’s serious.
And as if on cue, her mouth opens to tell him yes, this is how it goes, this is how it’s supposed to be if he wants to be with her, but he knows. By now this has to be their fourth or fifth go-around, the threats never ceasing. Her voice lessens to a murmur, monotone and without hope. “Marrying me means you chose me over your family. Marrying me means you lose your freedom and-- and your job and your life. Marrying me--- You saw that woman, right? The agent, you talked to her? I will never leave that facility if she takes me, that is why I have to run. You’re asking to marry a pariah, Gabriel, and I can’t be selfish enough to ask you leave everything because we might--”
--have a future. He’d lose his and she’s gain hers. It’s not fair.
"Marry me." (Gabe - Echo's arc)
OUT OF NOWHERE. This is coming from out of nowhere, as far as she knows. First she’s being shipped to God knows where (her parents must be so proud they finally cracked her code, found her weakness) and now she’s standing here in front of her with an impossible question. But this isn’t a question, not by the way he’s looking at her like this has been a decision in the works for weeks, a light bulb switched off because this? This could be DYING. This could be withered and she will be gone and he will have to go on with his life as it’s meant to --- without her.
And she’s all the more willing to run again even if her heart grows heavy at every piece of clothing is shoved hastily into a duffle bag. She has to run because that’s her job, that’s her undeniable truth. Jennifer Worley is a runner and she does not look back except she’s looking at HIM, right in front of her, and she knows her feet are getting heavier and heavier in the quick sand the longer she stars. He can’t make it. Does he mean it?
“What?” Hardly an answer but far from a denial, Jenn takes a breath as a reminder she can still breath and relaxes her shoulders for the briefest of seconds. “Gabe-- you’re not serious, are you? Might as well be asking a... corpse to the altar, it’s insanity.”
Sarah Manning in 4.07 The Antisocialism of Sex
❝I never meant for this to mean a thing.❞
@operationophelia
“Huh. Funny how that worked out, isn’t it?”
He tries to keep his voice light, but it’s difficult when all he can see in the light overhead is how Jenn has pillowed her cheek against the top of Phoebe’s head and how her lips are turned in the slightest bit, pressing an unconscious kiss into Fee’s light brown curls. The little girl shifts in her sleep, and Gabriel and Jenn move at the same time, his hand hovering at her back and Jenn’s fingers going white as they try to find purchase around a small leg or a bony hip.
“You’ve got ‘er; you’ve got ‘er,” Gabriel murmurs in reassurance. Jenn’s face – sometimes he forgets that he isn’t supposed to think about her age, about how young she actually is, because it is one of the things that she has lied about, and it is also one of the things that don’t matter.
But her face – she looks so scared, even if it is just for a moment.
“Hey.” Gabe reaches out to rub her arm, and feels her shaking. Tears have risen to her eyes, and she is half-sniffling into Fee’s hair. “It’s over, Jenni,” Gabe murmurs, his split and bruised knuckles ghosting the curve of her cheek. “Fee’s okay, an’ she’s home. I’m not angry with you, love. You don’ have to worry … Here.”
He removes his keys from his coat pocket and then reaches for Phoebe, explaining so very gently, “She’s heavy. You get the door, huh?”
He passes her the keys and transfers Phoebe’s weight to one hip, listening to Jennifer sigh wetly, days of burden leaving her mouth.
“That’s it, love,” Gabriel murmurs, half of the words getting lost in Phoebe’s hair. “Breathe. Just breathe … You’re home, now.”
Theme for Amy ( @landspeeding / @avalonpoole ) & her hacker OC over @operationophelia
Message me for the code if you’d like it, love!
❃ = dancing with them
@operationophelia
Gabe cannot dance to save his life, and Jenn knows this. But he is also surrounded by his friends, by his family, by men who are wrapped around their wives’ fingers with just the blink of an eye.
And God knows that Gabriel is not any different, especially when he has two sets of dark eyes pleading with him as if he could save the entire world with one turn around the dance floor.
“Go, Da, go!” Phoebe half-bounces in his arms, causing Jennifer to grin, and Gabriel grins right back, even as he lowers Phoebe to the floor and presses a kiss to her light brown hair.
“Go tackle Uncle Jamie, huh?” His suggestion is not disappointed. He watches Phoebe tackle Jamie from behind, her little legs bounding and her little arms wrapping around the other man’s waist. Then he turns his attention to Jennifer, allowing the music of District Four to fill him to the brim. As he takes Jenn’s hand and pulls her onto the dance floor, his grin is mischievous.
“I do hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, mo ghrá.”
a tragic story, really, the two of them---- the victor turned game maker and a face of the rebellion, both wanting the other in the worst way, both losing it all. our world doesn’t allow such selflessness.
@notforcalamity | continued.
She’s got a fist full of his shirt in her hand and it’s reminding her of those twelve days, those twelve, god-awful, unimaginable days. All she wants is to feel him above her, to know his flesh all over again and yet her brain’s out to ruin it all for her at the slightest memory of a time where she held one of his shirts and refused to let go for hours on end. The fear of him never coming back, of his things being strewn about her Capitol flat to be the last remaining objects in memory of him -- it was too much, and now she’s ruined a perfectly good day.
As he rolls off she merely whimpers at the loss of the heat of him, quickly turning to her side just to be near him. He’s telling her to breathe and by god she listens for once, taking in one deep breath at a time as she peppers the smallest of kisses against his nose, cheek, jaw. “I’m sorry...” It can hardly count as a whisper. She can’t even be intimate with him without worrying if he’ll shatter into a million pieces right under her hands.
“The Games are never going to be over, Gabe.” It’s a matter of fact, eyes finally opening to look into his like she’s deciphering if they really belong to him. “I still wake up thinking you won’t be here and I-- I’m trying. I want this, I do, I swear I do, but...” They’ve ruined me. They’ve ruined us. “I want to be whole again for you.”
Tell my muse "You're not a monster" and see how they react.
Alternately: Tell them “You’re a monster” and see how they react.
shutupaubrey:
i have a PhD in getting myself into really bad situations
This blog awkwardly needs a big reboot since I’m barely on here wuh-oh.
this is a warning;
“I am so, so sorry.” [ Gabe or your choice ] *also screams over you*
If Jennifer Worley was anything like Jennifer Worley anymore, she’d have been ready to obliterate him from this Earth. The arms wrapping around her body as the heart monitor chimes in a hopeful, melodic beep every few seconds, don’t even feel real -- none of this does. She’s watching Katniss with baggy, puffed out eyes and a busted lip from the fight with the peace keeper that hasn’t healed. Day after day it’s been interrogations, fighting, bruised body parts -- and without a single word.
The war is over. As far as she knows, she’s lost everything she had left to fight for.
They’re trying to convince her with the way that he smells, a scent she could never escape from her nostrils even if she’d probably got a broken nose at this point. The person around her is murmuring apologies left and right and yet Jenn has no soul left to process a miracle that might’ve been. Gabriel’s dead. He’s been dead for twelve days, forty-seven minutes and eleven seconds. Twelve seconds. Thirteen seconds.
“Gabriel is dead,” she finally speaks and it’s like she’s got a million needles sticking out either which way in her throat. “You can’t... make a mutt and convince me. Just kill me. Kill me, I know what a mutt’s bite can do.”
