#i originally had. an entirely different thing for today and i was almost done with it but decided i did Not Like How It Came Out

[ectonurites]

Byler Week Day 3: Birthdaygate/Byler gates

i am choosing to believe that Vecna made everyone forget Will's birthday for Plot Reasons (do I know what plot reasons? absolutely not) and that will eventually be resolved, so imagine this is in the aftermath of that 👍

but anyways: HAPPY BIRTHDAY WILL ❤️❤️❤️

#bylerweek2023 #Day 3 Birthdaygate/Byler gates #byler #byler art #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #i originally had. an entirely different thing for today and i was almost done with it but decided i did Not Like How It Came Out #so i threw this together last minute when i got home from trivia last night djsjsjs #(i'll.... i'll fix up and finish the other thing some day but i just was getting frustrated with it sdgfd) #sam draws shit

[ingravinoveritas]

Have you seen his latest tweet? He’s having one of his moments and is blocking people left and right. I got myself blocked for commenting on a comment… TF is this poop? 😒

@phantomstars24 Okay, so...I have seen what's been going on on Twitter with Michael and there is...obviously a lot going on. Let me first put up the screenshots of his other tweets, which followed the initial one in @ourtubahero-blog's screenshot (the first one is most recent):

I think there are a few things (well, a lot of things) that are getting missed in all this, specifically the context for why Michael wrote the original tweet in the first place. It appears that it was meant to be a reaction to this incident, which just occurred today in the UK:

The wording of Michael's tweet was not clear, and I also don't think anyone outside of the UK would readily know what he was reacting to, so straightaway this seemed to lead to a lot of misunderstanding. A large portion of the criticism of that tweet stemmed from people thinking Michael was taking a neutral stance on the situation in Gaza/Israel, which is what then led to him making a clarifying tweet in that regard. For my part, I did not interpret Michael's original tweet as neutral, but rather that he is and does stand with innocent people of every stripe, and wishes for there to be no more bloodshed or further loss of life.

Michael's subsequent tweets only seem to have compounded the problem, as they appear to have been made out of an emotional response on his part, which is not a good thing when it comes across as defensive. Emotions are running incredibly high right now, and sadly that is the time when misunderstandings are most likely to occur. In the interest of clarity, in his second tweet, Michael did not say that he had no time to do research, but rather that he "has no time for people telling him to do research." What I took this to mean is that he already has done research and thought very carefully about this entire situation, and therefore felt slighted at people implying that he had not.

The problem inherent in all of this, however, is that this is an extremely difficult subject to have nuanced conversation about, particularly on social media and especially on Twitter. This then leads us to the issue of blocking. I think what Michael was attempting to say (again, badly worded) in his tweet about blocking people was that he was blocking people due to what he perceived as personal attacks. This would explain people being blocked for saying apparently innocuous things, as Michael was on the defensive and does not really have that button in his brain telling him to stop or back off once he gets going.

It goes without saying that Michael seemingly blocking people indiscriminately is definitely not a good look (though it is not without precedent, as I remember well him doing the exact same thing four years ago, albeit under different circumstances). But what is also not acceptable is people sending him death threats, or tweets such as this falsely accusing him of horrific things. In this instance, it is more than understandable that he would have a strong reaction to being dogpiled and block someone, because no one should have to accept threats to their person on their own social media page.

I think what is also happening is that a lot of fans (not either of you who sent in these asks, for the record) are correlating online activism to activism in real life. Michael has always been about walking the walk and not just talking the talk, to where we know he donated almost all of his money to the Homeless World Cup in 2019. He is also a UNICEF UK ambassador and has visited Lebanon, Chad, and Guatemala to meet and help refugee children. All this to say that we have no idea what he has done outside of social media to assist refugees and victims, or if/how much he has donated to Palestinian charities or other relief funds for victims and their families. And for my part, I would rather Michael be clumsy with his wording on social media (again, not defending the indiscriminate blocking) and taking tangible action in real life than engaging in performative Internet activism that ultimately goes nowhere.

(Also, I cannot help but facepalm at people asking Anna to weigh in, under the assumption that a) She would even care about this; and b) She has any influence whatsoever on Michael's behavior, which it is abundantly clear she does not or else he would have stopped flirting with David years ago. I just really hope people do not tag her or expect her to have the ability to somehow "rein him in," because they will be very disappointed...)

So yes, I think what made Michael make a statement tonight after all this time was the above-mentioned MP. I think his intentions were likely good and that his heart was in the right place--as are all of ours, in wanting to protect innocent civilians and stop the horrific violence that is happening. But I also think that if Michael wasn't prepared to handle certain types of criticism, then it probably would have been better for him to say nothing at all, or at least certainly to not escalate things by continuously tweeting. I am also sorry for the fans who were hurt by his actions, because I know fans who have been there before, and it really sucks.

I am hopeful, however, that we can all step back and breathe once emotions are no longer so heightened and try to find a way to listen to each other and engage meaningfully. Because it is truly disheartening to see how things escalated so quickly tonight, and I want to believe that we as a fandom and as human beings can do so much better. I suppose only time will tell...

#ourtubahero-blog #phantomstars24 #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #twitter #Michael is a PR nightmare #because any PR person would have advised against this #and yet #i honestly get whiplash reading Michael’s Twitter sometimes #ignoring sometimes really is the best thing you can do #i have learned this from experience #i hope Michael learns it too #for his own mental health and well being #fandom woes #thoughts #discourse

[storiesofsvu]

Love Comes Quietly Ch 1

Future Alex Blake x reader warnings: language, minor talk of fbi type situations, alcohol consumption.

Alex always felt like it was a breath of incredibly fresh air whenever she got to get out of DC for something that wasn’t FBI case related. Since the divorce she’d almost started to feel a little antsy, like there was something else she should or could be doing to take up her free time now that the house was empty. She and James were still in touch rather frequently, everything had been completely amicable after all, just two people realizing they were going down different paths in life, even if they still cared about each other, they knew their part of the journey together was over. He’d stayed in the house with her while they sorted everything out and got papers signed and figured out who things belonged to and who wanted what before he moved off to Boston to accept the teaching position at Harvard.

Which is exactly how she had found herself on the Harvard campus for a week and a half guest lecturing in a handful of different classes. Despite James being the one to make the original invitation it was Daniela who’d convinced her into staying for the full week. They’d worked together at Georgetown when Alex had first started teaching and were hoping to finally be able to play catch up in between work hours.

Alex had done one lecture already today, using the free time before lunch to poke around the campus a little bit. There were more than enough interesting places, including a handful of bookstores that were home to a lot more than text books and required readings. She wandered the aisles, skipping the non fiction, she had enough of those kicking around the house already. She slowed a bit through the fiction books, though her face grimaced at the mystery and crime novels, there was no need for those, she saw enough of that in her every day life. The last thing she needed was to come home from a case and have that be her bedtime reading. She slowed when she hit the romance section, it was cheesy, she was the first to admit it, but sometimes they just hit the spot, a pleasant over dramatic sappy distraction from real life. Her secret guilty pleasure, if you will.

Her fingers trailed along a couple of books, nose scrunching when nearly all the covers featured a broad chested half naked man. Something, rather a person, caught her eye a bit further down the aisle. It was as if the two of you were both trying to outwait the other before going for the books you actually were interested in. She surveyed you out of the corner of her eye, you were old enough she knew the chances of you being a student were unlikely, especially considering you didn’t have any kind of bag with you. Key ring dangling from your fingers, bulge of your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. You were dressed just on the brink of business casual, but not nice enough that she thought you were a professor.

She watched as your lips moved into a tiny grin, as if a fond memory was waving through your brain and you reached out to the shelf, picking out a book that she recognized the cover of, ‘Love Letters. 2000 Years of Romance’. You flicked through a couple of pages, eyes scanning the text with a little smile on your face before you flipped the entire books worth of pages and she just knew you were inhaling that new book smell. You turned the book over, reading the dedication on the back before slipping it back into its place on the shelf.

“Oh now that’s a good one, it’s not a put it back book.” The words left her lips before she even really realized she was saying them. You practically jumped, despite being more than well aware there was someone else in the aisle with you, looking up to her as you laughed softly.

“Oh! I know, I’ve read it, one of my faves. My copy’s just getting a little worse for wear.”

“A little wear and tear means a book’s well loved.” She smiled softly, “my copy usually lives on the bedside table.”

“Perfect bedtime reading.” You smiled and for a moment you thought she was going to turn back to the shelves but she looked you over briefly.

“You’re… not a student here are you?”

“What gave it away.” You laughed, “and no, just..” you checked your watch, “waiting for a friend to finish a lecture. Need an expert opinion on something.”

“Anything I could help with?” She asked and it was your turn to survey her, the blazer, shoulder bag no doubt with at least a laptop and lecture notes in it, the smudge of white board marker on her right hand.

“Dunno, what’d’you teach?”

“Well, technically just guest lecturing this week, but linguistics.”

“Ah…” Before you could comment that you were waiting on a friend who taught forensic science a man popped into the end of the aisle, a small grin on his face as he wandered down to her side.

“Now why am I not surprised to find you in the romance novel section?” He greeted with a tease and her cheeks tinged pink as she turned to him, “ready?”

“Yes.” She nodded in your direction and you gave her a little salute once his back was turned before you turned back to the shelf of books in front of you with a soft sigh, checking your watch once more. You didn’t have long before you had to be back at the office, you were hoping Daniela would hurry the hell up. Letting out a little groan you rolled your eyes, maybe if you met her at her classroom this wouldn’t take as long.

**

Considering it was Friday, Alex shouldn’t have been surprised when she was roped into after work drinks and snacks with Daniela and a few other friends. She was at least thankful that they’d ended up off campus, not wanting to be plagued with students or follow up questions from lectures during the week. City Bar Back Bay was the perfect place for them, a trendy lounge tucked away in the corner of a hotel on Exeter Street. There were cocktails, a few glasses of wine, a jug of sangria and plates of chips, cheese, soft pretzel bites and more spread across the table for everyone to share. Everyone’s spirits were lifted at the knowledge it was the end of the week, laughter and conversation flowing easily throughout the small group.

“So?” Daniela questioned, nudging at Alex’s arm, “how’re you liking Boston?”

“You ask that like I haven’t been here before.” She replied with a laugh.

“But now you’re teaching here… and at Harvard, nonetheless. That’s gotta be at least some kind of bonus points.”

“Daniela…” Alex eyed her with a chuckle, “I didn’t move here when my husband suggested it, I’m not going to uproot my life just because you hate having to do certain parts of your lesson plans.”

“Yeah.” Caitlin cut in from her other side, “I keep telling you to just hire a TA.”

“Maybe I just prefer having a friend come to town a couple of times a year.”

“You’re lazy.” Caitlin replied, stealing a chip off her plate, “where’s Murphy? She mention bailing or anything at lunch?”

“No, she said she’d definitely be here. She’s probably caught up at work.” Daniela turned back to Alex with a near whine, “c’mon… what about splitting the year? Half in DC, half here?” Alex laughed, affectionately rolling her eyes.

“Two weeks at a time is my absolute max. I love my job, and as much as I enjoy teaching, it doesn’t jump higher, I’ve spent way too long working to get where I am.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Daniela waved her off with a playful groan, she was about to say something else when a voice rung in from behind her.

“I am so sorry I’m late!” You swept in quickly, hand on her shoulder as you leant around her from behind to kiss her cheek before dropping into the open chair at the head of the small table.

“Yeah, where the hell have you been?” Daniela asked.

“Ugh.” You rolled your eyes, “turns out when you kill someone there’s an extra forty five minutes of paperwork.”

“Should I be concerned?” Alex’s ears had picked up the words, turning back your direction with a tease in her voice and a laugh on her cheeks, pulling a loud laugh from Daniela.

“No, Murphy’s FBI.” She explained.

Alex’s eyes met yours from across the table and a tiny grin split your lips as both of your heads tilted in recognition from the bookstore that afternoon. You’d changed half your outfit from then, no doubt wanting to get out of work clothes, button up swapped for a cotton tank while the blazer was replaced with a plaid flannel, your hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, soft curls swaying as you turned your head to glance back to Daniela.

“Y/N, meet Alex Blake.” She gestured between the two of you and you extended out a hand that Alex was quick to shake.

“Oh!” Your eyes widened, “Professor Blake. I’ve heard wonderful things.”

“All lies I’m sure.” Alex chuckled with a smirk.

“There’s an Agent in there somewhere too.” Daniela teased, pouring out a glass of sangria to slide over to you.

“Don’t forget Doctor.” Caitlin cut in, snagging another treat from Daniela’s plate.

“Three titles,” you mused, “now that’s impressive.”

“Gives me a nice rotation depending on who I’m talking to.” Alex joked with a shrug and you chuckled.

“So linguist in one column.” You ticked it off on your finger, “gonna take a stab in the dark and say PhD in the next.” She nodded, “but what department for the last?”

“Behaviour Analysis Unit.”

“No fucking way.” Your arm dropped to the table, a little harder than you’d intended.

“What?” Alex asked with a small laugh, taking a sip of her drink.

“I just put in papers for an application to fill the open spot on that team.” You laughed, “I’ve got an interview with an Agent… Prentiss? Next week.”

“Oh thank god.” She let out a huff of a sigh, “we’ve been too shorthanded for too long. I was barely able to get away for this week.”

“Okay, I’m grabbing another pitcher.” Daniela grabbed the empty jug of sangria from the table top, hopping off her chair and Alex was able to slide into it to continue the conversation with you.

“So you’d say there’s a decent chance then?” You raised a brow over the rim of your glass.

“As long as Prentiss thinks so.”

“Is she a hard ass?”

“No.” Alex laughed, chewing on her lip for a moment, “she’s…. driven, loyal, passionate, has high expectations but also incredibly understanding. If you look good on paper things will probably look good, but honestly to her it probably matters more what you manage in person.”

“How so?” Your head tilted, “obviously it takes a particular type of person to be a profiler, but you’re hinting at more than that.”

“Nicely done.” She nearly smirked in your direction, “our team is a family. I know most places when you hear that term it’s a red flag you should run for the hills, but that’s not true here. We spend more time together than with anyone else, our secrets and pasts come out when we’re getting into the minds of unsubs or trying to talk them down. There are things my team knows that some of my closest friends of family have never been told, and that makes us stronger, makes us work together even better.”

“Hmm.” You nodded, sucking back more of your drink, “good to know.”

“You said your interview’s next week?” She asked and you nodded again, “I get back on Tuesday, I’ll be sure to bring your name up to Emily.”

“That’d be amazing!” You beamed, eyes widening with excitement and Alex smiled softly back at you.

She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but even from the very brief moment in the bookstore earlier she already knew that she liked you. Something was simply drawing her to you, like the universe wanted you to know each other, that you were meant to cross paths. After all, you’d already done so twice in one day without even knowing the other existed when you woke up that morning. Now that you were actually getting to spend some time together the two of you clicked instantly, falling into conversation like you were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. There was no awkwardness or weird small talk, just laughter and little jabs as if you knew exactly how to tease the other person without offending them. She knew deep within her that she had met someone that day that would be an integral part of her life, no matter how the interview ended up going.

Alex was about to elaborate to you when Daniela came back to the table with a tray in her hand and a wicked grin on her cheeks.

“It is time for shots!” She shrieked and Alex rolled her eyes.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Alex, c’mon.”

“Yeah!” Caitlin joined in, passing shots from the tray to the table, “I mean we do have a reason to celebrate after all!”

“Exactly!” Daniela high fived her, winking in her direction before raising a shot glass in Alex’s direction, “we didn’t get to celebrate your divorce when it happened, so now is as good a time as any.”

“Daniela!” Alex half scolded half laughed and the other woman simply shook her head, pointing to the shot until Alex huffed, picking up the glass and you followed suit. Glasses clinked together before liquor was sunk back, little winces echoing through the group.

“Okay!” Daniela shook it off, “that’s the liquid courage I needed.” Her eyes searched around the bar, “try to find myself a man.”

“On it.” Caitlin scooped up their drinks, handing Daniela hers before the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

“You know you’re more than welcome to join them.” Alex prompted, her hand squeezing at your arm on the table top and you laughed.

“That would require me being interested in men in the first place.”

“I’m sure there’s a few nice girls out there too.”

“Meh.” You replied, sucking back at your drink, “not into it. Besides, they invite you out and then bail? Rude. I mean…” you glanced across at her, “unless you’d rather bail too, hit up the guy from your lunch date?”

Alex couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at that, her smile reaching her eyes as she looked back to you.

“That was my ex husband.” She laughed, “we’re still good friends, just, no longer in love.”

“I’m sorry.” You frowned slightly.

“Don’t be.” She shrugged with a smile, “it wasn’t anything hurtful or sad. We got married young, we’re both incredibly passionate about our careers and we spent a lot more time working than together. Things simply… fizzled out.”

“I’m glad you’re still friends.”

“Me too.” She smiled warmly back at you and the two of you slipped into an easy conversation.

Two rounds of drinks later and Caitlin had disappeared from the bar with her conquest while you and Alex were still trapped in an endless conversation that neither of you wanted to halt. Even when Daniela would swing by every so often to check in she could tell that the two of you were clearly fast friends and there was no worry about her leaving the two of you alone any longer. So she took full advantage after another tequila shot to bite the bullet and see if the man she’d been flirting with wanted to go someplace else.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, having not connected with someone like this in what felt like years and Alex would tell you she felt the same. She had just finished a story when your phone buzzed on the table top and your face fell when you glanced toward it.

“Got a case?” She asked, knowing the feeling all to well.

“Not now.” You sighed, sucking back the rest of your drink, “but my weekend is officially no longer a weekend. Gotta report to the office at nine tomorrow.”

“Ugh.” She grimaced.

“Yeah.” You huffed, sliding off the stool, thankful at least that Daniela had taken care of the tab already. “It was really nice to meet you Alex.”

“Right back at you.” She smiled softly.

“Night.” You smiled, giving her a little salute.

“Hey!” Her hand wrapped around your wrist when you were a mere foot away, tugging you back and you raised a brow in her direction, “can’t just leave without my info.”

“Oh?”

“I want to know how that interview goes.” She dug into her pocket, pulling out a business card to hand off to you, “I was serious about thinking you’d make a good fit to the team. I’ll send a text to Emily in the morning, put in a good word.”

“Thank you. Really.” With a smile, you pocketed the card, “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

“I’m sure it’ll be good news.” She assured with a grin, watching the joy spread through you as you finally did turn from the table, waving goodnight to her once more before you vanished through the bar door.

____________

@svulife-rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @leelizzzle @mysticfalls01 @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss l @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @rustyzebra @aliensaurusrex

#alex blake #alex blake x reader #criminal minds #alex blake criminal minds #love comes quietly #criminal minds fanfic #alex blake fanfic #alex blake series

[ramp-it-up]

Altered

Pairing: Mob Boss! Bucky x Boss! Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N:  This comes directly after Queen of Heaven and is in the called This Thing of Ours AU.

Warnings: As usual 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. Not Beta’d, all errors my own. Reader is a switch (dominant and submissive) , graphic depictions of sex acts, teasing, masturbation, hints of pegging, dom/sub play, oral sex (f recieving) slapping, Switch Bucky, restraints, spit play, edging, anal play, p in v, raw sex (wrap before you tap) use of ‘Puppy’ pet name.  This time Bicky turns reader out. More PWP.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.      

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Bucky sat in your office dumbfounded. He looked up at you with those blue blue eyes incredulously. The contract you’d drawn up was a joke.

“You can’t be serious?”

“What is the problem, Mr. Barnes?”

You sat back across your desk from him and crossed your legs. Bucky mirrored you on the other side, clearly irritated.

“The terms of this contract. It is not the same one I brought over. It is entirely different, and gives you concessions and earnings not in the original agreement. You’re trying to rob us, Ms. YLN.”

Bucky had called you the next day after his night at Queen of Heaven to set up a meeting only to be greeted by your voicemail. He’d texted and you’d been slow to reply.

Finally, he was sitting across from you, more than a week later. And his patience was wearing thin. You were definitely trying to play him.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you. He took in your hair, your face, your eyes. Then he recognized the shirt that you were wearing.

It was definitely altered, but it was his, the one he’d left at the club that night. The JBB embroidered on the pocket was a dead give away, but he’d been so excited to see you again that he just now noticed, 15 minutes after he entered the room.

“Nice shirt.”

Bucky couldn’t guess what you were playing at, but he wasn’t in the mood for games.

You were waiting for him to notice. You didn’t set the meeting until the tailor was done with his shirt.

You stood up, looked down at yourself and smoothed your fingers down your torso, stopping at your breasts, giving him a clear view of your braless nipples, then smoothed down the rest of the garment.

Bucky licked his lips and shifted in his seat.

“Found this piece at the club. Now I’ve changed it, and it’s mine.”

You looked right at him as you moved around the desk and sat on the edge near him, giving him a flash up your short skirt to the promised land as you crossed your legs again. There was something clothing your pussy, but it was very skimpy, because what he saw was a flash of white and your fat pussy lips.

Bucky stared at your Jimmy Choos and followed your ankle to your leg all the way up. He wanted to part those legs and lick his way to your cunt, but he was resolute.

“Need something to drink, Mr. Barnes?” You cocked your head at him. “Thirsty?”

You were playing with the collar of his shirt and the look in your eye was playful.

But Bucky wasn’t about to be played.

Bucky stood up, took the embroidered pocket of the shirt you were wearing between his fingers, causing you to almost gasp at the proximity.

He wasn’t the only one excited about your meeting today.

“Huh. You’re right. It’s not the same.”

He leaned close to you and you held on to the edge of the desk for dear life. Those blue eyes pierced you to your soul.

“You can have it.”

The menacing sneer made you wetter than the memories of the other night. You wanted him to fuck you up. Damn him.

He buttoned his jacket as he turned to walk away.

You found yourself calling after him.

“What? No negotiation?”

Bucky stopped, grateful for the excuse. He didn’t want to leave you just yet, but you were playing hardball.

He could be hard too. Bucky turned around slowly and gave you the chance to admire him in his tailored suit, broad shouldered, and (now you knew) big dick glory.

Damn.

“Negotiate? You’re busting my balls here.”

He waved his hand toward the contract. As you held back a smart retort.

“No one gets that kind of deal with Valkyrie. We own this town. It’s our terms or nothing.”

The cocky arrogance of Bucky at business did something to you. This energy was the shit.

You stood up and bent over your desk to get the contract. Bucky started to sweat.

“You said I was trying to rob you. But you are trying to strong arm me. I’m not some innocent little small business owner, Mr. Barnes. Three Rivers is a force.”

Bucky walked back toward you, wanting to fall at your feet. But Sam and Steve would have his head if he let this contract go through as written.

The look on your face was lethal and Bucky felt like he might need to be punished for what he was about to say. The thought made him smile.

“We know what Rumlow has been doing to some of your deliveries. We can protect you, Inanna.”

You reached up and slapped him. Hard.

“Do NOT call me that here. Unless I specifically instruct you too.”

The fire in your eyes was irresistible, and Bucky watched them as he relished the pain in his cheek. He was hard as fuck.

Who was he changing into?

“Sit.”

You glared at him. He didn’t move.

“Please.”

The ask was uttered through clenched teeth, and although he tried to play it off, Bucky sat, anticipation running through his veins. He ran his damp palms up and down his pant legs and practiced his impassive stare.

But inside, Bucky felt giddy.

You leaned against the desk, desperate for James Buchanan Barnes. You stared at him, trying to figure it out.

He was certainly handsome, his body hard, his penis… impressive. But you’d had that before.

The fact that he seemed to want the freedom of being topped intrigued you, but that wasn’t new either. What was new was your desire to switch. You wanted him to take you like none other. You’d dabbled before, of course. But you had never felt like this with anyone else.

Bucky was staring at your feet in those heels, imagining them up over his shoulders.

You cleared your throat.

“What would you change, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky dragged his eyes up your form and widened his legs. There was no mistaking his erection. Your mouth began to water.

“Almost everything. We up Valkyrie’s percentage by 50.”

You scoffed and threw your hands up.

“If you think I’m going to give you a controlling interest in my company, you’ve lost your damn mind!”

Bucky smirked, glad to see that he’d gotten you worked up.

If he only knew.

“You stand to multiply your earnings by at least 600%. That’s worth it.”

You leaned forward and stared him in the eye.

“Fuck you and Valkyrie, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky bit back a response. But his eyes gleamed as he stood, buttoned his jacket and turned to walk away again.

This man was driving you insane.

“10 percent.”

Bucky kept waking, but replied.

“40.”

“20 percent.”

“30.”

You groaned. That would give Valkyrie a 40% stake in your company. But he was right, you needed the insurance on deliveries and you would make a lot more money, despite the split.

“Shit. It’s a deal.”

You went to your laptop to amend the paperwork and printed it out.

Bucky strolled back to your desk as you signed, watching your cleavage through the opening in his shirt.

Then, he leaned down and signed, your eyes drawn to the veins in his hands. You almost sighed.

Almost.

Bucky looked up at you as he placed his copy of the contract in his inside jacket pocket.

“Nice doing business with you, Ms. YLN.”

“Call me Inanna.”

Bucky gulped at the sudden change in the air.

“Sit.”

Bucky obeyed and he watched you pull your skirt up to reveal your teeny tiny white thong flanked by your puffy pussy lips and your glistening thighs. You wanted him. He wanted to jump for joy, but he just settled back in the chair, ready for what you had to give him.

“Let me see you stroke it, James.”

He was in shock at what you were asking, but he moved quickly, bringing his cock out and dry stroking it slowly.

You leaned over him and spit on it, giving him lubrication. Bucky stroked faster as you pushed two of your fingers in his mouth and then pulled them out to circle your clit as you perched on the edge of your desk, your thong pulled aside.

He wanted to be that thong so bad.

You watched his hand and the precum glistening at the tip of his swollen penis. You watched his face and heard his sounds and it almost got you there.

Almost.

“I think I like you moaning like a little bitch, James.”

Bucky’s eyes were glazed over and riveted to your fingers. He opened his mouth and moaned louder for you.

“Ohhhh. Inanna…”

“Fuck, James!”

You came watching this desire flare between you. His hand was moving at the speed of light and you could tell he was getting close. So you did what you had to do.

“Stop stroking, James.”

Bucky’s eyes went frantic, but he grunted and did as he was told. Watching and praying as you moved closer to him, unbuttoning his shirt from around your breasts.

“The next time you’re in Queen of Heaven, I will be inside you.”

You took your panties off and held them in front to his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled as you said, “Open.”

You stuffed your panties in his mouth and looked down at him as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“You want that, don’t you Puppy?”

Bucky nodded vigorously, the tension leaving his body as he inhaled and tasted you.

"Now keep your hands behind you James. I shouldn't need to tie you up. "

You winked and straddled Bucky’s hips, your pussy leaking onto his cock, so close, but yet so far.

Bucky felt the heat radiating from where he wanted to be and he desperately hoped that you would bend your knees.

“Or do you want to have your cock inside me, James? Split me open? Make my sloppy cunt even more so?”

You played with your pussy in his face, as he drooled all over your panties.

Bucky’s eyes watered as he moaned. Being inside you was his only goal in life.

You watched his lust blown eyes watch your hand working between your folds. Then his eyes dragged up your body to your breasts. He wanted to devour you, you could tell. This feeling of power was like none other. And you knew it was because of him.

You took your panties from his mouth, then moved your pelvis to his face as he moistend his lips.

“Lick it, James.”

Bucky looked up at you with those blue blue eyes, as if asking permission. You were pleased immensely and you shoved his head forward, and that was when he eagerly went to work with his mouth.

The sound of him licking you while simultaneously feeling his wide, wet, rough tongue delving into you was pure heaven.

“Mmmmmmmmhmmmmm.”

He had your legs trembling and unstable as you clutched your nails into his hair.

“Suck it.”

Immediately, he went to work, pulling your clit just the way you liked it.

“That hot mouth, James. Those lips. Right…. There…. Yessss. Eat it up, Puppy.”

You didn’t care that you were being too vocal, exposing to many of your emotions, he had you caught up. You considered deviating from the plan and taking his cock as you ground your cunt into his face.

“Such a good boy. Such a good little slut for my cunt.”

You pulled his face out of your pussy and stared down at him, eyes dilated, and mouth slack. He was totally fucked out.

“Let me finish you Inanna. Please.”

The way his broken voice made you clench around air.

“Hmmmmm.”

You bent down, legs straight around his and your ass in the air as you looked into his eyes.

Bucky’s fingers itched to grab that ass. He mused how funny it was that he’d been this sexual with you, but not that intimate. He wanted more. You could read him like a book and you surprised yourself with your matching desire for intimacy.

This was new.

Bucky tried to kiss you and you dodged him. His eyes flashed. He wanted those lips.

“You are so delicious, Inanna. Taste yourself.”

“No James. You don’t get these lips.”

You whispered it, your mouth a hair’s breadth away from his.”

And then you stood up, pulling him toward your cunt again.

“But you can have these. Go ahead. Match all of that big talk with action.”

Bucky tried to keep his eyes open and on you as he brought you to the brink, watching your eyes close and your hands move to your breasts, plucking and stretching your pierced nipples as Bucky moaned and lapped you your juices in between sucking the shit out of your clit.

You bit your lip and moaned your way through your orgasm, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how hard he’d made you cum. You didn’t scream like you wanted to.

When you finished cumming, Bucky looked up at you and you knew he 'd take you apart and put you back together if you let him go at that moment.

And so you didn’t.

You couldn’t let him. Bucky knew it, but that didn’t stop him from trying to ask.

“Inanna…”

“No.”

You cut him off, knowing what he wanted. Your eyes were on his cock as you put your hands on his shoulders and leaned over to whisper in his hear. He turned his head so that his lips were near yours, making you want to chase them. But you held your resolve.

“Stay.”

Bucky stayed. But he noticed the hungry look in your eyes as you watched his long thick cock bob. You licked your lips as he pushed his pelvis up, hoping beyond hope for some kind of relief.

You shook your head, trying to clear your head of these silly notions, and when you looked up at him, he saw the need.

You hated how he smirked and you didn’t punish him for it.

You just pulled your skirt down and buttoned up his shirt, moving behind your desk. You picked up your phone.

“Goodbye Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky groaned low in his throat. You were dismissing him and his dick was hard yet again. But he stood with all the dignity he could muster and painfully put himself into his pants again.

He leaned down to retrieve your panties and as he walked away, he smelled them, remembering the taste of your copious cream when he ate you out. He licked his lips then he heard the signal.

“Hello Ralph. I’ve decided on a new color for the trucks. Green. Very Green.”

Bucky strode back to where you were and was behind you in a flash.

As if overpowering an adversary, Bucky took your arm and bent you over your desk, pulling your skirt up back up around your waist. He looked down at the vision which was your lovely ass.

He pulled himself out of his pants again, lining up and playing in your wetness. It felt so good.

You struggled not to wiggle your ass against him like a simp, but you needed him.

“Did you say green?”

“Yes. Sir.”

Bucky plunged inside you with no prep, just as you were praying he’d do. The stretch was glorious. It had been so long since a real cock had been inside you that you almost didn’t know what to do.

“You’re so gotdamn tight Inanna. Fuck!”

Bucky’s cock pumped inside you of its own accord as if it were drilling for oil. He was deep in your guts, almost, but not quite, painfully stretching you out. It felt so good.

But then he pulled right back out. And you whimpered. You actually whimpered!

“Did you like that Inanna?”

You stayed silent, not wanting to admit it, until Bucky slapped your ass, hard. He watched his hand print begin to raise on your behind as you whimpered again.

“I asked you a fucking question. Did you like it.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Bucky grinned at your distress. Then, he knelt on the floor to pull your thighs apart so that he could lick the puckered hole he now had access to. He licked and swirled your ass as you writhed on your desk.

Bucky came up for air to give you some information.

“I should take this ass right here, right now.”

You whimpered and cried at the previews your mind was giving you at that scenario.

“Yes, you should, Sir.”

You whispered it as Bucky stood back up. He grinned at the state he had you in. Then he leaned over you, cock sliding against your leaking core, but not where you needed it.

“I should leave you like this. Mentally begging me to fuck you in whatever hole I choose. Like you left me the other night.”

His menacing whisper caused you to clench. God you loved this feeling.

You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your tongue to keep from begging out loud. You never begged, but this man was testing your limits.

Bucky felt your pussy moving and he cursed.

“Fuck! You felt so good. I’m going to take this cunt that’s weeping for me.”

Bucky leaned back and lined up.

“Your word Inanna?”

“Green!” You choked it out. Your face heated at the fact that you wanted him so much.

Bucky slid back inside you where he was immediately at the precipice.

“Fucckkkkkk!”

He pulled out yet again.

“Please!”

You turned your head and screamed, finally begging as you desperately searched his eyes. He saw the desperation there.

He shifted so that you could see him taking his cock in hand and start to jack it.

“Do you want this? Tell me why I should give you what you want?”

Bucky looked down to see your core clenching around air and he licked his lips to keep from drooling. You didn't know if you answered him yet, but you were beyond caring how if you looked weak. You had to have him.

“Fuck it, what you want is what I need.”

Bucky grabbed the base of his cock and his balls and slipped inside your wet passage. His thumb caressed the rim of your asshole and you began to pound, milking his cock without him even moving. He groaned and started fucking you on him like a toy, his fingers digging into your hip harshly as he moved you back and forth.

“Such a good pussy. I’m going to use it. I don’t care if you cum.”

That was the biggest lie Bucky ever told.

“Shiiiitttt.”

Bucky’s hips were canting faster as he plowed inside you.

“What if I fill you up with my cum. What then? What color would you be then, Inanna?”

"G-green, Sir!”

“Are you MY cum hungry whore?

“Yes...Yes sir!”

“Mmmmmmm. What if I fill you so full that…. Fuck!”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as Bucky pounded you exactly right. Your fluids leaked down your legs as his voice commanded you.

“You better not cum.”

“Mmmmm. Ah! Ohhhh!”

Bucky was in another world, feeling you around him, raw and wet and tight and hot.

“Don’t want you to cum. No….Don’t dream about it, and I’m not almost always on hard every second of every minute since the other night.”

Bucky’s hips lost their rhythm and you grabbed your desk and arched, pushing his thumb deeper inside you.

You exploded around him which caused him to pull out and jack the hot drops of cum on your ass, growling like an animal.

Bucky pushed his spend into your tighter hole with his thumb, fucking you there for a minute as you quivered around air, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I want this ass, Inanna. Maybe next time.”

You were a whimpering, quivering mess on your desk as you heard Bucky grab a tissue from your desk and wipe his hands, then put himself back together again.

This time he made it to the door, glancing at the gash made in the wall by his knife days ago. You gazed at it too. You decided to keep it, as it was a change that he made to this place.

It would be permanent.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you. Ms. YLN. Until next time.”

#this thing of ours au #ttoo #mob boss! avengers #mob boss! bucky barnes #mob boss! bucky barnes x reader #mob boss! Bucky x Inanna #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut

[boredmadamoiselle]

Loving him was red 

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Female reader

Synopsis: You surprise your boyfriend Carlos before his home race with an unusual outfit to support him.

Warnings: Smut, oral

Author's note: English isn't my first language, probably it contains some mistakes. I tried my best but if you want to correct or help me, you are welcome.

It was race day. Carlos had already woken up and gone to the circuit alone. You were used to going together but that morning to Carlos' surprise you had told him to go on without you and that you would join him later.

In fact, that wasn’t an ordinary race for your boyfriend, but a special one: his home race.

Carlos was obviously happy to be racing in his country – it was such an honor for him – but at the same time you knew he was feeling a lot of pressure. As him and Fernando Alonso were the only Spanish drivers on the grid, all eyes were on them this weekend. The entire Spain was cheering for them and wanted one of them to win. Winning at home would have been a dream come true for Carlos. So, of course he wanted to win. But, more than ever, he wanted to make his people – his fans, his family and you – proud of him. 

Yesterday, during qualifying, he had managed to get the pole and it certainly helped, but, as Carlos had said, the race was today and that was all that mattered, so he had to win today. 

As always you were there to support your boyfriend, but for the occasion you wanted to do something different than usual and surprise him. A few weeks ago, you had decided you would show him your support and your love in the best and original way possible. That day you would be his number one supporter. 

For that reason, you had told him you had things to do but the truth was you needed to be alone to wrap your gift for him: yourself. Or better, to get ready.

You were looking at yourself in the mirror satisfied with the result. Having Carlos racing for Ferrari meant you often wore red, especially at the official events you went with him and to the races. It was your personal way to support him and Carlos loved that color on you, especially if you were wearing something sexy. You always left him speechless and couldn’t keep his hands to himself. 

That day you weren't just wearing innocent red lipstick or red lingerie under your clothes. You were wearing Carlos’ race suit, or almost. Indeed, it was identical to the one Carlos usually wore and the same one that had walked a few months ago at the Milan Fashion Week. When you had seen it, you had wanted one for yourself immediately. Carlos instead had loved the idea of seeing you wearing it and of course taking it off. But that was the first time you wore it in public. 

You had slightly customized the outfit to make it more fashionable and to look less like a driver. You had put on a black belt to highlight your waistline and wore a pair of black cowboy boots. Then, you completed the look with a black baseball cap, an oversized black blazer, your Kelly bag of the same color and some accessories. You loved the final result: it was sporty but chic at the same time. You couldn’t wait to see Carlos face: that outfit would drive him crazy. But more than anything, you couldn't wait for him to take it off like you had done with him so many times after races. Just the thought turned you on. 

By the time you arrived at the circuit, it was less than an hour before the start of the race, so Carlos was probably finishing getting ready or warming up. 

As you walked into the paddock, people stopped looking at you and commenting your look while photographers took pictures of you. 

You found both Carlos and Charles playing football behind the motorhome. They were already wearing their race suits. While your boyfriend didn’t see you coming, the Monegasque did and stopped playing. 

“Nice suit, Y/n”, Charles said hinting at you. 

Visibly confused, Carlos turned around to look at you and his face immediately lit up. When he noticed the race suit, his expression went from surprise to desire. 

You smiled at him as he walked up to you. 

“So, what do you think?” You turned around to better show the outfit. 

“Beautiful, mi amor! But do you want to steal my job?” You loved when he called you like that and hearing him speak Spanish always turned you on. 

Although Charles was a few meters away from you, he kissed you passionately. His hands on your back held you pressed against him and you could feel his erection already pushing against his clothes. 

Charles cleared his throat. “I'll leave you to your warmup, mate. Don’t be late”, he said walking away. 

Shortly after, Carlos broke the kiss and looked at you maliciously. “Let’s go inside. I haven't quite warmed up yet and I think you can help me with that.”

Without thinking, you nodded and followed him. 

Once inside his room, you ended up sandwiched between his body and the door, while Carlos wasted no time pulling you in for a bruising kiss. He moved down, kissing down your neck and leaving marks on it. With Carlos pressed up against you and his fingers running up and down your hips, you started to feel your own arousal. 

“Cariño, you look so good in this outfit, but at the same time you have no idea how hard it is not to rip it off right now”, he whispered. 

The contact with your skin and those words were enough to make you moan but you tried to remain silent by remembering where you were. You didn't want to create a scandal just before the race even if the others probably knew what was going on in there. 

While Carlos was still kissing you, his hands took off your belt and unzipped your suit. His eyes, full of desire for you, flickered from your lips to the rest of your body. He smirked at the sight of you wearing nothing less than his favorite red lacy underwear underneath. He rubbed his fingers over your pussy, through your soaked panties, while the other hand was on your breast. 

“Already so wet for me, cariño, and I haven't done anything yet”, Carlos whispered between kisses. 

The sensation of his fingers sliding over the fabric was insane and made you shiver. He slipped his fingers under the waistband and rubbed slow circles on your clit. 

As much as you wanted him to continue, you stopped him and removed his hand from your pussy. He immediately looked at you confused. Before he could speak, you put his fingers into your mouth and sucked them. Your eyes fixed on his while you tasted yourself. 

“Oh, Y/n, you’ll drive me crazy. Look what you are doing to me”, he said hinting at his hardness.

Without saying anything, you lowered his zip. Then, you put your hands on his chest and gently pushed him onto the bed. 

“I know you have been under a lot of stress over the past few days and I am here to ease that tension, so today it’s all about you, mi amor. I want you to relax”, you simply said. 

You kissed him once more before sinking down to your knees in front of him. You tugged his clothes down to let his cock free. Your mouth watered at the sight of him and you wasted no time taking him into your hand, stroking him slowly. You bent over, sticking your tongue out to lick the side of his cock.

“Oh, princesa”, he hissed and pushed back your hair when your lips wrapped around him, taking all of it down your throat while your eyes were staring up at him. 

Every time you were amazed at how big his cock was and how it filled you properly. Only he could do that. 

Carlos was a gentleman and he always liked to treat you like a queen, but at that moment there was no time for pleasantries. You felt his hand rest on the back of your head as he started to thrust up into your mouth, fucking your throat. 

On the other side, you loved that side of him: rough and dominant. However, even in that situation, it was still you who dominated, who had the power in your hands, or rather in your mouth.

When he came into your mouth, you showed him and swallowed it. You knew he secretly loved that. 

“Good girl.”

With his taste still in your mouth, he took your face in his hands and kissed you.

He glanced at the clock above the door.  “Fuck, I have to go, princesa”, he whispered. 

“Then go and win so you can finish unpacking your gift later, my champion”. 

“Oh, baby, I think I’ll fuck you anyway, but I really hope to win”. 

Five minutes later you were ready to leave the room. Carlos was about to open the door when he turned around to look at you. 

“I love that this jumpsuit makes the fact that you are mine even more evident”, he whispered. 

You raised your eyes to the ceiling, but you actually loved letting others know you were his. 

Two hours later, Carlos won his home race and, like a child on Christmas morning, he couldn't wait to unpack his gift.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz fluff #f1 #f1 fiction #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one #formula one fic #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #x y/n #carlos sainz f1 #carlos sainz x y/n

[thewebcomicsreview]

Homestuck 2 updated today! Even I'm not enough of a dork to leave a Christmas Party to go read Hamsteak, but it got late and I'm back now, so let's do it. Months ago, but not many, before Alt!Calliope collapsed. Has it really been months, in-universe, since Dave/Aradia left Candy? Time is confusing, especially in Homestuck.

Oh wait, this is after Jade broke free of Calliope's control back in Chapter 6. That was months ago? Man, it's so weird how we've cut back to the Meat Rocket several times since then and Jade just....hasn't done anything or said anything about being possessed? At least onscreen? Totally glossed over.

Probably the biggest mystery in HSBC right now is who the Candyland narrator is. The "Lady" giving commands is clearly Alt Calliope, so who's the narrator pushing back on her here?

Oh. We have another Alt Calliope. An Alt-er Calliope. This seems to literally be the same person as Alt Calliope, though, since they re-fuse. Maybe this is something to do with Ultimate Selves, which might be why non-Alt Calliope is so afraid of her.

Cutting from Alt Calliope talking about decorum to Davebot and Aradia taking selfies with her corpse is a cute gag. I'd forgotten Aradia had a new Calliope-themed outfit. That's kind of weird.

DAVEBOT: to be fair this was typical teen jade behavior DAVEBOT: honestly shoulda done a little more research into that host body

Oh that's an interesting explanation for why Alt-Calliope-In-Pre-Retcon-Jade's-Body passed out (and almost certainly not the original team's reason). But Jade's narcolepsy was Vriska-induced.

DAVEBOT: you just went on another one didnt you ARADIA: yes DAVEBOT: who did you meet this time ARADIA: the necr- DAVEBOT: no dont tell me its simply too much to bear ARADIA: are you doing a bit DAVEBOT: of course im doing a bit

I do like the idea that Aradia uses her time powers to have entire adventures in between sentences. I suppose this also makes Pesterquest's Aradia arc canon, since that involved a bunch of HS2 stuff. I haven't played Pesterquest in forever so I don't know if the "necr-" ("necromancer"?) is a reference to that or foreshadowing.

ARADIA: actually i doomed thousands of timelines DAVEBOT: thats kind of fucked up ARADIA: yeah! ARADIA: to be fair i was doing it on purpose DAVEBOT: thats even more fucked up

Aradia is the best troll.

Dave's pillow wearing sunglasses is a great gag. Also, a cute character moment. Those glasses were a gift from John, and Dave kept them even after becoming a robot.

ARADIA: i could go see him right now DAVEBOT: you wont ARADIA: i wont 0u0

Assuming "him" in Sollux, that seems to imply that Aradia can come and go to Candyland freely, which is...interesting.

ARADIA: youre welcome 0u0 ARADIA: anyway the point im making here is that some of these missteps end up serving a grander purpose ARADIA: things that seem unimportant or even “wrong” can end up being essential components of whats meant to happen ARADIA: and who even decides whats wrong in the first place? DAVEBOT: i dunno megido thats borderline blasphemous

This is pretty obviously about Candyland, especially since Dave just shit on his pre-Ultimate Candy self as being a different person from a "lame" timeline, and "How much does it matter if something is canon or not?" is the question HS2 is allegedly about in the first place. But also I kind of like this nerdy time shit philosophizing even without the thematic subtext. The Homestuck EU has mostly been "Trolls! Aren't they neat!" and Ultimate Selves, but the Classpects haven't really been talked about much for a long Time.

Dave also refers to "Skaia's alpha timeline" in this conversation, but it's never been fully clear to what extent Skaia was pulling the strings. The "alpha" timeline was just the one with no paradoxes, and it was Lord English, not Skaia, who was making it so restrictive.

ARADIA: whats the right way for a butterfly to flap its wings? DAVEBOT: the way that doesnt make me gay

Dave...you are gay. You've been gay since Homestuck proper. It was a big part of why your marriage to Jade fell apart. Ultimate Dave is comprised of all Daves, and since Dave quit time-traveling before figuring out his sexuality, he seems to have regressed somewhat.

Dave was always scared of creating Dead Daves. "Dead Daves are the enemy", and it's why he doesn't time travel any more, and Aradia here seems to be arguing that this is limiting him, that he can't grow and explore without breaking some rules and dooming some timelines. This is, of course, Thematic™. You can't go in an interesting new direction if you're too worried about sticking to what the story's "supposed" to be about.

DAVEBOT: also now feels like a good time to mention that despite my omnitemporal awareness of everything that has and ever will happen to me i actually have no idea where the fuck youre proposing to take me ARADIA: oh word ARADIA: fun huh? DAVEBOT: being real i kind of hate it ARADIA: woohoo! DAVEBOT: youre such a freak DAVEBOT: TONE INDICATOR: AFFECTIONATE

ARADIA: cmon you shithead

This is such a fun pairing.

Hm. Calliope gets back up right as Aradia and Davebot's feeling jam is getting somewhere and makes them stop. Hmmm...

Good update. Aradia is my favorite troll and this was Good Aradia Content. I am increasingly convinced that she is not a Handmaid to Calliope, despite the cult outfit. Also rather interested in what's up with the Double Alt Calliope thing, but I imagine that'll get a follow-up at some point.

#Homestuck #Homestuck 2

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - Tremors

“The living room is fully completed, including the personal stuff like the photos you asked for. The dining room will be completed today. There was a delay because the carpet you picked wasn’t available in three of the stores that offered it previously. Anyway, it will be delivered today, and we can finish the dining room then.”

Oliver nodded slowly, listening to Thea’s oral pleadings.

When he had arrived here – here being the Queen Mansion that had been rebuilt in the behest of Felicity years ago – Thea had been ordering the helpers around. She had been completely in her element. Bossing people around, politely even so, had always been her thing. As a teenager, she could have been quite mean, but once she had found a purpose, something reasonable for her to do, she had put all the effort necessary into it. She had helped with Verdant in the first few years of its existence, and now she helped setting up this place for Oliver and his family.

Admittedly, Oliver was feeling a little guilty for having Thea take care of everything. She had offered it herself, but he knew that she was still feeling guilty for not going into the field with the others the night of Rose Blood’s final attack. No matter how often he told her that he understood, she would only smile sadly and say that she wasn’t ready to forgive herself for it.

The truth was that Oliver was grateful that Thea was taking on the task of making this rebuilt mansion ready for them to move in. She was seeing things rather rationally and tried to make it a new home instead of trying to make it resemble the old Queen Mansion or Queens’ last burnt down family home. The first would have been difficult as Felicity had made changes when rebuilding the house in the first play, trying to make it lighter and more family-friendly. The latter had been difficult because the entire style of the house was different from the home Oliver had built for his family.

It had been weeks since he had been released from the prison and pardoned by the president. All that time, he, Felicity and the kids had still been living in the penthouse of the hotel that Bruce had bought, so Felicity and the kids had had a safe place to say. Although it was comfortable there and they had arranged themselves there, it wasn’t a real home. It was just a place to stay, and they all needed to get back into a real home and to their new normal.

Oliver looked around shortly. The foyer that had been covered in dark wood and old, dark furniture back when it had been the original mansion that he had grown up in, was almost unrecognizable. The paneling was simpler and lighter, so were the carpet and the furniture there. It was different than the mansion had been, and it was different than their home had been. But it was a style that he liked, something to get used to and something to feel at home in.

“The floors and walls in the offices are done, so you can choose what to do when you are ready. Since you said they aren’t priority-“

“They aren’t,” Oliver interrupted her, shaking his head. “We have our offices at Queen Incorporated and City Hall, and we can work everywhere. Our priority are the family rooms – living room, dining room, kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms.”

“Raisa is currently filling the kitchen cabinets, and the bathrooms have been finished three days ago. There is only a little bit of decorating missing, but I found a nice local shop whose owner was so thrilled when I told her that I was looking for decoration on your house, and she immediately agreed to come here and decorate the rooms herself.”

Oliver opened his mouth to say something, but Thea lifted a hand.

“Before you say anything, I told her what you like and don’t like, and the ideas that she told me sounded great. And of course I called Felicity, who ran a quick security check on her. I wouldn’t let a stranger into your new home before I knew that the stranger could be trusted.”

He knew she wouldn’t. Oliver smiled gratefully, but Thea just turned back to her report.

“The bedrooms are a little bit more difficult.” Thea turned the page on her clipboard and skimmed the precise lists that she had made to always know where everything was at. “Your bedroom is almost done, but the bed is still not delivered. I checked back with the shop, and it should be here by Wednesday. The furniture for the dressing room is delivered, but the dressers and shelves aren’t set up yet. Even if they are – what would you put in there? You barely have any clothes.”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “We can buy new clothes.”

“Again, not a priority,” Thea concluded from his tone and nodded her head, “understood. If Felicity is ready for a wild shopping spree-“

“-I am sure she will call you.”

“She better does.” Thea grinned, but she turned serious again quickly. “I took Emmy and Tommy here to check the progress on their rooms earlier this week. Unfortunately, Emmy’s room was painted in the wrong color, so we had to redo that one, but we were able to put in some of the furniture yesterday. Emmy will come by again tomorrow, so she can decide if she wants anything placed differently. She also needs to decide on some more decorations. Tommy was happy with his progress, but it turned out that we made a mistake measuring the room, so the planned astronomy corner wouldn’t have fit with the furniture. We sent the furniture back and ordered new ones which should be here by tomorrow or the day after that.”

Oliver nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“William’s room is finished. We will have a video call later today, so he can make sure everything is the way he wants it to be.”

Again, Oliver nodded. He was glad that William had a room in their new house too. Although he wasn’t home that much anymore, Oliver was glad he still had a place in the house. It would feel wrong otherwise. He wanted William to know that he was always welcomed here and that they loved him like crazy.

“Millie’s and Addie’s rooms are still mainly undone. Neither of you has told me yet what the two really want. I sent you the drafts for the rooms, but… no reply.”

Oliver sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Millie and Addie can’t really decide on an idea, and Felicity and I just had so much on our hands lately and…”

Thea smiled at him sympathetically. “I know. I didn’t mean to reproach you. I’m just saying that I need a decision to continue my work.”

“I know. You will have our decision by tomorrow. I promise.”

When Thea was able to start working on Millie’s and Addie’s rooms by tomorrow, they might be able to move in by the weekend or maybe the beginning of the next week, Oliver estimated. That wasn’t too long away, but it wasn’t too close to feel hurried either. They didn’t have much stuff at the hotel as it was, so it wouldn’t be too hard to move. It could be done in a day.

Still thinking about the upcoming change in their life, Oliver caught the hesitant expression on Thea’s face. Perking his eyebrows, he cocked his head.

“Is there anything you aren’t telling me?” he asked. “A murine plague? Must? Safety defect?”

“John, Bruce, Felicity and you certainly turned this into another Fort Knox. I doubt that anyone comes in that isn’t supposed to. I am not even sure anyone will get out of here if you don’t want it.”

“Good to know,” Oliver said, thinking about the kids and the fact that they would grow up into teenagers. He knew the things he had done as a teenager. They had been stupid back then, for his children they could easily be dangerous. “So what else is there?”

Thea looked at her clipboard, pursed her lips and held it out for him.

“It has to be bad,” Oliver joked.

As soon as he took the clipboard from her and looked at the item on her list that was marked with three big question marks, Oliver felt his smile fading from his face though.

Mia’s nursery was written there in Thea’s neat handwriting.

He thought about the mobile he had found in the ruins of their homes. It was the only thing that had been left of Mia’s room, and it was almost the last thing left of her at all. They had their memories and photos, but every other evidence that she had been a part of their lives had been burnt with their house.

Well, of course there was the devastating pain they had been left with too. It wasn’t really visible to anyone else, but that pain was with them all the time. Mia had come into their lives unexpected, but they had loved her just as much as they loved all of their children. She had been left with them because they had been trusted with her.

“I watched the TV interview,” Thea said into the silence. “Felicity is still suffering, isn’t she?”

“We all are,” Oliver whispered, “but we have to move on.”

“There’s no chance you are getting her back?”

Oliver shook his head. “Apparently, our lifestyle is not appropriate for being foster parents.”

Thea shook her head. “It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not.” Oliver sighed. “But they don’t want to take Mia out of her new foster family either. They think it’s necessary for her to have stability. I can’t argue with that, so…”

Stepping forward, Thea wrapped her arms around Oliver and hugged him tightly. Oliver wrapped his arms around Thea in return and sighed once more.

He remembered how hard it had been to learn how much time of William’s life he had missed when he had learned that he had had a son for years. In some way this was worse because he knew what a short time of Mia’s life he had been able to be a part of. There wouldn’t be more. At least with William, he had always known that they had an entire future to look forward to and to make up for the time they had missed out on.

With Mia, all they had was their past.

→ → → → →

“At the time Oliver turned himself in, we were fostering the little girl that was abandoned outside of the Smoak & Queen Science Center. We fell in love with her instantly. It felt like there was a reason why she was placed right where we would find her. The social worker that was responsible for her told Oliver that the little girl would have quite some troubles to find a family to take her in. Even in foster care, it wouldn’t be easy for her. The media had already taken interest in her, and her health issues might shy away possible adoptive parents too. That is how Oliver and I made the decision to take her in. It was a difficult process, especially emotionally. Living with the fear that she might be taken away from us because her biological family would want her back or because we would be seen as unfit to take care of her was difficult.” Felicity took in a trembling breath. “We were afraid of getting our hearts broken when she would be taken away. And she was. In the process of-“

The recording of the interview stopped on Felicity’s face. Her eyes were filled with tears, a single one rolling down her cheek. The stress and pain of talking about her loss was all too visible. It was a heartbreaking image, one she had seen a few times too often these last days.

Shaking her head, Felicity muted the TV and went back to cuddling Hawk. He was lying on his side in front of her, his back pressed to her front. Felicity snuggled her face into his fur and closed her eyes.

It had been a week since the interview had been broadcasted. Ever since she had seen herself crying about the loss of her youngest child at least five times a day. That snippet of the interview had been broadcasted on TV multiple times, and it was shown on every gossip website too. Everyone on social media seemed to be talking about it too. Since everyone in the city seemed to have watched the interview, she had been looked at with a lot of sympathetic expressions in the eyes.

All she had wanted to do was watching the news and of course the first piece had been about that interview. It should have been about a lot more than their loss. It should have been about the new beginning for the city, the new transparency about what they were doing and how they were doing. It should have been about Starling City’s future. Now that seemed to be a little, almost forgotten fragment of what that interview had been about.

Blinking through one eye, Felicity tried to figure out if any important local news had started yet. She found a reporter, an elderly man whose name she had forgotten, reporting from in front of the Office of Children and Family Service. Behind him, she could see protestors.

Felicity sat up and unmuted the TV.

“…since early this morning. We have talked to some protestors who explained that their main reason for gathering here is to show loyalty to the Queen Family. Oliver Queen, one of them said, was ready to give up his freedom to save this city. He thinks that the least people can do for the man that turned this city into a real union is to show up in support and fight a fight that he himself might be too tired fighting.”

The image changed. Instead of the reporter, a group of protestors were shown now. They held up signs, saying Bring Mia back! and He gave us our city. Now give him his baby. or We trust them with the city, why not trust them with a baby?

“The CPS did not respond to any of our requests for an interview so far and-“

Felicity switched off the TV and just stayed sitting on the couch without moving for a moment. Hope had sparked inside of her, and Felicity hated that. She had hated that Mia wasn’t with them, but she had accepted that there was nothing to be done about that. That was why hope was dangerous.

When the elevator that led to the penthouse opened with a quiet sound, Hawk jumped over the back of the couch and ran to welcome Oliver back home.

“Hey, Buddy,” she heard him say, “what would you think about a run? I could need a good run.”

Hawk barked in response, making Oliver chuckle.

Felicity lifted her hands and rubbed them over her face. The sooner she forgot about this report, the better. She would just have to pretend like she had never seen it in the first place.

Putting on a smile, she breathed out slowly once more and turned to follow Hawk to the specious entrance area where the elevator was. Oliver was standing there in his suit, the jacket tossed away and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. Hawk had climbed up on him, his forelegs hanging over Oliver’s arms and his head snuggled against Oliver’s chest while he was petting him.

As soon as Oliver lifted his head and his eyes met Felicity’s, she frowned and cocked her head. He rarely ever looked tired. Today he did though.

“What’s wrong?”

They asked the question at the same time as Oliver must have seen the same tiredness in Felicity’s eyes. Chuckling softly, Oliver set Hawk’s forepaws back on the ground. He crossed the distance towards Felicity and wrapped his arms around her body tightly then. Felicity leaned her head against his chest, closed her eyes and breathed him in. With Oliver here, everything was easier and she just felt at home. Even in this still quite cool and impersonal penthouse.

She hummed contently, wrapping her arms around Oliver’s middle loosely. His heartbeat was slow and firm, just the way it should be. Whenever she took the time to listen to it, she realized why he had to like sleeping his ear pressed to her chest so much. There was something incredibly soothing about listening to the heartbeat of the person you loved.

“Are you okay?” he asked with whispered voice and placed a kiss to the crown of her head.

“I am now.” Felicity snuggled herself a little more into his arms before she leaned her head back to look at him. “You?”

“Okay now.” He smiled at her softly before dipping his head forward and placing another kiss on her forehead. “I’ll make dinner. You can tell me about your day in the meantime.”

He tightened his arms around her briefly before he let go of her. His hands moved to her back, back up and down her arms to her hands. He tangled his fingers with her and pulled her with him towards the kitchen. Hawk followed, surely hoping to be used as a tester for everything that would go into the meal.

While Oliver was already gathering everything he needed for tonight’s recipe, Felicity poured both of them a glass of wine.

“Where are the kids?” Oliver asked, getting a knife to chop the vegetables.

“Emmy is meeting with Priya and Rosalie. Tommy and Millie are in their rooms. Addie is at ballet.”

Oliver nodded without looking up. “So, how was your day?”

“Unspectacular,” Felicity replied with a shrug of her shoulders. She didn’t want to talk about it. If she said more, she worried that she’d tell him about the reports. It was the least she wanted to do. “How was your visit at the house?”

The house. Felicity wasn’t quite ready to call it a home. Back when she had decided to rebuild the mansion and maybe live there one day, everything had been different. She hadn’t been used to live in a home that was completely hers and Oliver’s. Now that she was, it felt a little weird to move into the old Queen Family Mansion, even if the changes she had made back then and the changes that had been done in the last weeks made it a completely different property.

“Good.” Oliver looked at her briefly and smiled. “I think we can move in ten days to two weeks.”

Felicity perked up her eyebrows. “Thea must have put a lot of work into it.”

“I think she has worked on it every free hour.”

Although Felicity hadn’t really expected anything else because Thea always put all the effort into things that were important to her and this was important to her.

“Great. I think it’s time that we move out of here and into a real home again. We need to settle a real new normal.”

“Agreed.”

Sipping at her wine, Felicity watched Oliver closely. He was very focused on chopping the vegetables which she found weirdly suspicious because she had watched him cook like a million times before, and she knew that he could chop blindly.

“You have heard about the protests, right?”

Now Oliver lifted his head and looked at her with a frown. “What protests?”

Apparently, she had been wrong, Felicity realized, pressed her lips together and rolled them over her teeth. Oops.

“Nothing.” Felicity shook her head and took a gulp of the wine. “Just forget about it.”

Oliver chuckled, putting the knife down and crossing the distance towards her. He came to stand behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. He swayed her from side to side lightly.

“What protests?” he asked.

With a sigh, Felicity leaned back against him and put a hand to forearm on her stomach. She was sure that telling him about these protests would ground her again. It would help her accept that each and every spark of hope that Mia could come back to them would only add to the pain of accepting that Mia wasn’t coming back. She didn’t want to make Oliver’s heart break though.

“Felicity.” He said her name slowly and syllable-by-syllable. It was his way of saying that she wasn’t getting out of this. She had to tell him whether she wanted to or not because he wouldn’t let it go. “Tell me.”

Another sigh escaped her lips before she turned around to him and explained, “Apparently, some protestors have gathered in front of the CPS. They want Mia to be given back to us.”

Although Oliver tried not to show any reaction to her words, Felicity could see the emotions flickering over his face. There was hope for a split second, followed by worry, pain and finally worry again.

“Felicity.”

“I know.” Felicity clicked her tongue, shook her head and turned away from Oliver. She went to the opposite side of the counter and continued chopping the vegetables that he had left there before. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

With held breath and biting down on her tongue, Felicity continued to chop the vegetables and waited for Oliver to say anything. He was about to when-

“Is Mia coming back?”

Oliver and Felicity both turned their heads to see Millie standing in the door, looking at them with her soft eyes. Oliver shot a brief look back at Felicity before he approached Millie and kneeled down in front of her, so they could look eye-to-eye.

“No, Millie.” Oliver shook his head and reached out his hands to take Millie’s in his. “Mia is not coming back. She is with a new family who will take good care of her.”

“But it was my birthday wish.”

Felicity had to fight the tears that threatened to well in her eyes. Even without having Milie explain what she meant, she knew it.

“I wished for Mia to stay with us,” she explained anyway, “so why doesn’t she?”

Oliver pulled at Mia’s hands until she was in his arms. He hugged her tightly, just like he had hugged Felicity before. Millie snuggled into his arms and released a long, sad sigh.

“Mia is with a new family,” Oliver repeated, “and that’s okay. All we ever wanted was for Mia to be healthy and happy, didn’t we?”

“And to stay with us.”

True, Felicity thought, but they couldn’t tell Millie that. It was hard enough for her to understand why Mia couldn’t stay with them. If Oliver and Felicity added to the confusion, it would be even harder for her.

“If I was taken away from you, would you just let me go?”

Felicity felt the air being sucked from her lungs and her heart being clenched down on until it had no more room to beat. If she had thought that her heart had been broken before, it was completely shattered now. She had always thought of herself as a mother who had an eye for the thoughts and feelings of her children. Today she seriously questioned her opinion of herself.

Of course she had known that Mia’s sudden disappearance from the family had been hard on the kids. She had known that they were sad and that they couldn’t really understand why that decision had been made or at least why Mia wasn’t taken back to them now that Oliver was back with them. Until now, the thought that their reaction to Mia’s removal caused them to think such unthinkable thoughts.

“Of course not.” Oliver pushed at Millie’s hips lightly until she was standing in front of him, and he could look her in the eyes. “We would never just let you go and be okay with that. We would fight until you were back home with us.”

“But not for Mia?”

Millie looked at Oliver for a long moment. He didn’t have an answer for her. Neither had Feliciy. So Millie probably made her own answer of that, turned around and walked away.

The silence Oliver and Felicity were left in was deafening. Felicity doubted that she’d feel worse if Millie had cried and screamed at them and just told them that she hated them. This was at least just as bad.

→ → → → →

When the alarm went off, Felicity felt Oliver rolling onto his side and switching it off. With a sigh, he turned back on his back again and looked at the ceiling just like she was. She hadn’t caught any sleep last night, and there was no use asking Oliver. He had been lying in bed next to her and brooded at least as loudly as she had.

“We need to talk to Millie again today,” Felicity said quietly, still looking at the ceiling.

“I know.” Oliver sighed. “I have been trying to find out what we could tell her, but nothing has come to mind. Have you thought about anything reasonable?”

“We will tell her that we have tried to get Mia back, but that we just don’t have many rights because we aren’t her legal parents. With her, that is different. We have more rights and we would use them to fight until she was back home with us.”

Oliver didn’t have to say anything for Felicity to know what he was thinking. Was that really enough to convince Millie? Would she understand and accept this answer? Felicity doubted it, and she knew Oliver was thinking the same.

There had been a lot of impossibilities in their lives, and they had always fought against it until they had succeeded. This time, they had made a few calls, met a couple of people and that had been it.

“I will make breakfast.” Felicity rolled to the edge of the bed and put on one of Oliver’s large hoodies that had been discarded on the floor. “Take your time with the shower.”

It was her way of telling him that she wanted a moment for herself, and she knew that Oliver would agree.

Felicity went to the kitchen barefoot and headed right for the coffee machine. Smiling, she found that Oliver had prepared it before they had gone to bed last night already. He had known already that she would need that coffee first thing in the morning.

With the mug of hot coffee between both of her hands, she went to the kitchen island, rested her elbows on the counter and closed her eyes for a moment as she breathed in the smell of coffee. She wasn’t surprised that the scent didn’t relax her as much as it usually did. It was a lot to ask of coffee to take away worries like hers.

She was about to try and distract herself by preparing breakfast when one of the smaller alarms she had set up for the security went off. Frowning, she went over to the nearest display and found that the elevator was being used. There were no signs of a break-in, but since she hadn’t been informed of a visitor by any member of the security team, she guessed someone must have sneaked past them.

Well, at least that would get her mind off the conversation she would have to have with Millie later today.

Felicity took her tablet and called up the control panel for the penthouse. She was already about to stop the elevator when she decided to take a quick look at the footage from inside the elevator first-

and felt her heart stop beating.

The entire world seemed to stop around her. Time froze and refused to continue. Felicity felt unable to move, unable to think. She was unable to do anything but stare.

Only Oliver’s quick steps behind her made time go on again. She turned around to him, still feeling trapped in time, only able to move very slowly. Oliver was standing there in jeans and a white shirt, his muscles tense, his face worried.

“The alarm went off,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

Felicity opened her lips to say something, but no sound came out. She tried again, but the result was the same.

In that moment, the quiet pling! of the elevator made Oliver turn around and hurry to the entrance area to face the intruder. It took a moment until Felicity could convince her feet to follow Oliver.

And there they were. The elevator doors were already closing behind Mrs. Wheeler, who was holding a bouncy Mia in her arms.

Oliver and Felicity just stared at the visitors, neither of them able to speak. Again, it felt like time had been frozen though Mia didn’t seem trapped in time. She went back and forth between babbling to her stuffed sloth behind her pacifier and squealing at Oliver and Felicity. Mrs. Wheeler just smiled softly, not saying a word. She didn’t seem to be frozen in time either, Felicity realized, but rather just patiently waiting for them to process this visit.

“Mrs. Wheeler,” Oliver was the first to find his voice again, “what are you doing here?”

Mrs. Wheeler’s smile grew even softer. “You might have heard about the protestors that have been taking up position in front of our offices?”

“Yes, it was on the news.”

“Well, they called our offices at least a hundred times since early last morning to talk about this case, so my boss eventually decided to call in an emergency meeting and revisit this case.”

Only now Felicity realized that she wasn’t breathing and sucked in a much-needed breath. She believed that she understood what Mrs. Wheeler was trying to tell her, but she didn’t dare to hope. That hope she had felt yesterday when she had heard about the protests had already been too much.

“I- I don’t think I understand,” Oliver said, his voice shaking slightly. “What are you saying?”

As if she had understood what was being talked about, Mia leaned forward in Mrs. Wheeler’s arms, reached out her hands in on Oliver and Felicity’s direction and said, “Mama. Dada.”

“I couldn’t have said it better.”

Mrs. Wheeler crossed the distance towards Oliver and Felicity. Since Mia’s arms were still reached out for them, Felicity automatically lifted Mia into her own arms and held her against her chest. Immediately, Mia’s face brightened with a wide smile, and Felicity felt her breath getting shaky.

“Before you outed yourself to be the Green Arrow, we thought of you as the perfect family for Mia,” Mrs. Wheeler explained, “but after you turned yourself in, we had to react. The president pardoned you though, so the reasons for taking her away have actually been erased.”

“But you said-“

“I know.” Mrs. Wheeler’s smile turned almost a little sad. “We said that Mia needed stability more than anything, and we still think so. I was finally able to make everyone see that Mia finds stability in you more than in anything or anyone else though.”

Mia clutched her sloth to her chest and leaned her head against Felicity’s chin with a sigh. Felicity kissed her forehead and pressed her nose against the top of Mia’s head. Her arms tightened around her. Even if someone tried to take her away from her again, she wouldn’t let them.

“And her foster parents?” Oliver asked, taking a step close to Felicity and rubbing his hand up and down Mia’s back. “What did they say?”

“Their report about Mia’s time with them actually made most of my colleagues agree to bring her back to you. They told them about how restless Mia was. She didn’t like to eat much and she-“

“Mia!”

At the excited exclaim behind her, Felicity turned around to find Millie standing there. The five-year-old ran towards her parents and her youngest sister. When Felicity kneeled down on the floor, Millie hugged Mia tightly and peppered her face with kisses that made Mia giggle.

The loud noises seemed to wake the rest of the kids. One by one, they came from their rooms, saw Mia and joined the reunion on the floor of the entrance area until they were all sitting there. Mia was in the middle of it all, slightly overwhelmed, but obviously very happy. Only Oliver was still standing, looking at the scene before him like he couldn’t process.

“I will give a moment to enjoy as a family,” Mrs. Wheeler said, “if you could just tell me where to wait, so we can discuss the next steps for Mia’s adoption.”

“The kitchen,” Oliver suggested, gesturing towards it, “there is coffee and-“

“I’ll be fine.” Mrs. Wheeler smiled once more before she turned and left to go.

While the kids were still telling Mia how much they had missed her and how much she had missed in these last weeks, Oliver just watched them. Felicity knew how he felt because she was feeling the same. If she hadn’t felt Mia’s heartbeat against her chest a couple of minutes ago, she wouldn’t be able to process this at all either. Even now she was scared that she would just wake up and all of this had just been a dream.

When Felicity reached out a hand for Oliver, he took it and let himself be pulled down on the floor with the rest of the family.

“This feels like a dream,” he whispered what she had thought before and finally turned his head to look at her. “Is it?”

Felicity shook her head and squeezed Oliver’s hand. “This is real. Mia is back with us.”

Her words seemed to be what he had needed. A smile spread on Oliver’s lips and he put an arm around Felicity’s shoulder to pull her into a tight hug. They had been lucky before because they had gotten out of that impossible situation that Blood Rose had put them through. Now with Mia back with them, they were more than lucky. They were experiencing the highest form of happiness one could feel. This was what it had to be to be truly and implicitly happy.

#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #time for a story

[antimony-medusa]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers.

I was tagged by @regicidal-optimism

In no particular order:

A World Away (A Step Apart), (14,531 words) my OW superhero/supervillain romance with identity shenanigans, a dystopian world, and in-world supervillain RPF social media posts. This one was so fun to write. I've spent a lot of time on various social medias over the years and I delved into it for the fake discourse, and some of those social media jokes are some of my favourite things I've written. Plus I got to make up two guys that I love, OW is so fun.

A Hundred Things You Have Not Dreamed Of, (27,743 words), a DSMP emduo au in a vaguely superhero au about coming back from dehumanization. This fic was the one where I had to go holy shit I really do keep writing about food as healing I need to start tagging that on my fic, but also I just had a great deal of fun delving into, on the one hand, the hurt/comfort of expecting pain and not getting it, and on the other hand, the actual legitimate joys you can find in the small good things of a life you're choosing to live, even if baldly speaking it's not a great life. Like these guys don't know how to cook, and they live in a shitty apartment, and they have minimum wage food service jobs and don't have internet, but they also have friendship and community and 3 meals a day, and a laptop that can play videos, and that can also be something to appreciate. Plus it was a really fun challenge to take characters who basically don't act like the characters at all, because of trauma, and show them gradually growing into themselves. I still love this one a lot.

three deaths, no burials, one sunrise, (804 words). Oh boy. This one. DSMP, and c!wilbur focused, and second person, and inspired by a richard silken poem and a ursula vernon speech and a post about how wilbur didn't get a grave. At this point I don't even know if that's true canon, but I love this fic for how completely it took over my brain, I sat down and wrote it in one setting. Fuckin' pulled out of me like unspooling rope hand over hand. Having complicated feelings about your death and how it was marked or unmarked by the people around you, and exploring that through video game statistics, is something that can be so personal.

The Totem Of Undying Job, (62,696 words), DSMP, the syndicate heist Las Nevadas. So oh man, this was written in the era of the prison arc and you can probably tell, but I am still proud of how much I went into existing lore for the characterizations, not to mention proud of pulling off a long-fic. I keep thinking of it and going "man I should write more prey duo", or "I should write more tntduo", or "dang, beeduo slaps", or what have you. The first full and complete novel-length thing I had written in almost a decade, and I still think it hangs together, concepted and written entirely just me with myself in a google doc. The way I approach writing is very different nowdays, but I still love this one and I'm proud of pulling it off.

And honestly there's a lot of fics jockeying for this final spot, but I will give it to Soothing Natural Energies by Rebalancing External Wealth, Today, At Rekindled Flames Marriage Therapy Conference, (4,482 words), my origins sneegza marriage fraud shenanigans heist. I wrote this one in 24 hours for an exchange, and I was absolutely digesting my own stomach with anxiety the whole time, but I got it done, and then I posted and people said it was funny! And it had good worldbuilding! They liked it! And I drank some coffee and sat down to read it and went what do you know, I also like this, I think it's funny. Sometimes when I go oh god can I actually write comedy I go back to this one and I remind myself that yes, I can feel out how punchlines work. Also that I should write more origins, it's delightful.

tagging: @chrysalizzm, @imperialkatwala, @creetchure, @lennjamin-o7, @droidofmay

(don't feel obligated, any of you, I was just mentally paging through the people I follow trying to find people who hadn't already been tagged.)

#my writing

[rorywritesjunk]

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

Crocodile brings on a former assistant to manage Buggy and his workload. Buggy realizes he likes it when Taron praises him for the littlest things.

Rating: PG-13 to start. Chapters will be rated depending on content. Warning: Slow burn. AFAB nonbinary character. Buggy is touch starved and a virgin who thrives on praise. He's also a bit of a mess because he's thinking he's going to finally be killed by Crocodile. Set with the Cross Guild but won't be a poly fic (as much as I love that unf). However, mentions of past/somewhat present TaronxCrocodile stuff. Also Buggy is bratty, whining, a little pathetic. He doesn't want to do anything. Word Count: 1,850. A/N: My self indulgent submissive Buggy fic. This came from another fic I wrote for another fandom that I never posted but it was pure self indulgent. I decided to do it with the clown and change it up. Originally thought of making this a dom!Buggy fic but after a poll and how I started writing it, I decided to stick with sub!Buggy.

Title comes from "Take Me To Church" by Hozier.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4

Chapter 2

The first few mornings were rough. Taron was an early riser, already dressed and ready when they would enter Buggy’s room with a cup of coffee for him before waking him up. They would try shaking him awake before kicking the mattress, and when that didn’t work they’d pull the blankets off, ignore his naked body, and shove him out of bed. Each time he landed face down on his nose, startling him awake. As he screamed threats and obscenities at Taron, they’d open up his wardrobe and start picking out his outfit. That usually helped to get Buggy ready faster as he didn’t trust them to pick out the right clothes.

This was the fifth day. Buggy was sitting at breakfast with a swollen nose from his wake up call. He was already dressed for the day, not looking forward to more paperwork Taron would find for him to deal with. They really were good at their job. They didn’t allow him to get distracted, already threatening to use a sea prism stone on him if he tried to use his powers to get away. 

The reward for a job well done was a piece of candy which Buggy hated to admit but he looked forward to the little treat they’d pull from their pocket and set on the table after he signed ten different forms. One time they even put their hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch, but it was followed by a gentle, “Good job, Buggy.” before they went to get him a refill on his drink.

It… was hard to relax around them. In many ways they reminded Buggy of Crocodile, which as he tried to ask questions about Taron, trying to get to know them, there wasn’t much coming out at first. All he knew was that after dinner, Taron would head to Crocodile’s tent for a few hours before coming back to sleep in their own bed. 

Buggy strummed his pen against the stack of papers, looking across the table at Taron as they filled out a planner of Buggy’s meetings and appointments. It was almost lunch time and Buggy had been at this for hours. Taron did let him get up and stretch his legs, even if he whined and fussed the entire time about sitting for long periods of time, how his back hurt, his hand was covered in ink, everything sucked, but Taron tuned him out, pointing at his chair after he walked around the table a few times.

The day dragged on.

After lunch, Buggy was forcing himself to head back to the table to complete another mountain of paper when Taron stopped him.

“Let’s take a few minutes to get some fresh air, okay?” They suggested. “You’ve been working hard today, Buggy.”

He hated how in just a few days having this stranger give him such simple praise made him yearn for it. Mihawk and Crocodile would never say such words to him, yet Taron said he was doing a good job so kindly he thought he'd lose his mind for a moment.

“It's bright outside.” Buggy whined as the two of them walked along. He was dressed in some of his best clothes, wearing his hat and jacket, looking every bit of what a pirate captain should look like. Taron was just… not as eye-catching as Buggy in their clothes. That bothered him. If they were going to remain his assistant then they needed to have a different look. He side-eyed his assistant, looking them up and down. “Why do you dress like Crocodile?”

“I dress like me.” They replied, hands in their pockets and not looking at him. “Does the way I dress bother you?”

“Yes! You work for me, you should dress to impress!” Buggy insisted as he stomped his foot and glared at them. “Where's the color, where’s the glam? You look too much like Crocodile.”

“I like my clothes.” They told him with a glance in his direction; Buggy thought they looked amused, but it was fleeting. “I'm sorry I don't dress to your standards, but remember, I work for Crocodile to help you out.” They kicked a small rock out of their way. “You don't have a say in my appearance, Buggy.”

“Why?! That's not fair!” He huffed, clenching his fists.

“Life isn't fair.” Taron stopped abruptly as Buggy took a few extra steps ahead of them. “Come on, let's get back to the tent. We need to keep on schedule with the paperwork. I imagine you'll be caught up by the end of the week.”

“Why does it even matter?” Buggy grumbled as he reluctantly turned to follow them. This was so frustrating. He wondered what it would take to have Taron add a little flash to their outfits. It was bad enough that Crocodile hired them without asking Buggy, but the fact they dressed like him was terrible.

It wouldn't be too hard to sneak a sparkly cravat into their wardrobe, right?

~

Taron was off to Crocodile’s tent which for Buggy was the perfect time to sneak some flashy things into their wardrobe. He had Cabaji help him look for items in what Buggy thought to be their size, and if he replaced a shirt for a shirt then they would have to wear it.

Usually Taron was gone for a few hours which gave Buggy plenty of time to get into their clothes and change things around. It was worth the risk. He took their clothes out of their wardrobe, tossing them into piles on their bed while Cabaji removed the hangers, swapping their clothes for the ones Buggy picked out.

“These look like Crocodile's hand-me-downs.” Buggy said as he pulled a dark colored vest out, holding it against himself with a disgusted look on his face. “It's ridiculous.”

“That's because they are his hand-me-downs.”

Buggy froze and looked at Cabaji. He looked terrified, staring in the direction of the door. Swallowing nervously, Buggy turned to face the inevitable. Taron was standing at the door, expressionless, thankfully alone but that didn't help soothe Buggy’s fears. They were back earlier than Buggy expected. Why, why did they return so quickly? Why weren’t they with Crocodile? Were they about to kill Buggy?

“Is there something you need from my wardrobe?” Taron asked as they approached Buggy. They looked him over, reaching out to the vest he still felt, their fingers brushing over the fabric. “This isn't your color, you know.”

Buggy nervously watched as Taron leaned forward, hand reaching out but instead of grabbing Buggy by the throat, they took the garment from him. He slumped against the wardrobe. He didn't know what Taron was capable of, they must be strong, and they were finally here to get rid of him. Their other hand reached out and touched his face, causing him to flinch and jerk away.

“Buggy, I'm disappointed by your actions.” They sighed softly. “No candy for the rest of the week, I'm afraid, which is a pity because the paperwork tomorrow is going to be tedious.”

They stepped back and looked over at Cabaji. “Can you help him with this? I'm going to wash up. My clothes better be back on their hangers and in the wardrobe by the time I come out.”

They ignored the two as they grabbed their robe and headed out of the room. The other two stood still, both holding their breath as they waited to be sure they were gone. This… was a bad idea, going through their things, but Buggy was just so frustrated with the situation. He shoved the hanger back into the wardrobe and slammed the door shut.

~

Buggy kept glancing over at Taron during a meeting. They weren't saying anything yet around their neck was a lavender cravat with a shimmer to it, the one Buggy left with their things. They actually wore it and while he felt proud, he still awaited the inevitable.

Four days after rummaging through their clothes he was still alive so far.

He wasn't really listening to what Mihawk was saying, lost in his own world as he kept a nervous eye on Taron. They were taking notes, glancing up every few minutes at Mihawk as he spoke, nodding along with his words. Buggy swallowed nervously and finally glanced over at the other two members of the Cross Guild. Crocodile was looking over some things, a cigar in his mouth as his eyes darted across the papers in his hands. Mihawk was discussing something about whatever, Buggy had honestly tuned him out a while ago, so he didn’t know what the swordsman was going on about and didn’t really care.

Taron was just taking notes.

When the meeting was over and the two of them were released, Taron followed behind Buggy back to the tent. Crocodile had insisted there were more forms that needed Buggy’s signature and the clown didn’t understand where these were all coming from or what they were for. Taron followed behind Buggy, clutching the forms to their body as Buggy wondered if he could get a break. At least with Mihawk and Crocodile he knew when the punishment was coming, but Taron he couldn’t read. Nothing had happened yet, but Buggy knew it was just a matter of time before Taron would punish him for something.

They arrived back at the tent and to Buggy’s office. Taron placed the stack of forms at his seat before they went to make a fresh pot of coffee. Buggy just stared at the small mountain of papers, wondering how he could get out of it. He took a seat, brain trying to think of something.

He opened his mouth with some kind of excuse ready when Taron came over with a hot cup of coffee for him. They set it down before holding a piece of candy out to him. He tried to take it but they closed their hand and pulled back.

“This is an encouragement for you to start working, Buggy.” They told him as they started to unwrap it for him. “I decided the little rewards really do help you and that withholding them may not be the best choice if I want you to be productive.” They reached over for him, taking hold of him by the chin before pressing the sweet to his lips. “But you need to be good, Buggy, can you do that for me?”

There was that unsuspecting gentle touch that had Buggy gasping in surprise, nodding along with their request as they pushed the treat into his mouth carefully, letting their thumb rest against his bottom lip before releasing him and pulling back. Buggy’s heart was pounding, face flushed, and he tried not to choke on the candy as he watched them as they went to their own chair to work. The strawberry flavor of the candy was mellow, just enough to keep him focused on it as he kept an eye on Taron as he signed the papers.

He wondered what other rewards they would have for him.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy #opla buggy x oc #one piece oc #one piece fanfic #one piece original character #nonbinary oc #nonbinary original character #taron x buggy

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 11/03/2024

ULTRA S+G

Season 2 Featured on: The SiIvaGunner YTPMV Collab (Eek!).veg

Ripped by Kirbio, SAF

God, man. Season 2 of SiIvaGunner was so cool.

And like, I know that that's what I *always* say when I'm writing about a Season 2 rip, in everything from Patched Plains Fusion Collab to Rippin'! Mashin'! High Quality Grand Prix and the SilvaGunner: Rebooted 1st Anniversary event...but I can't help it! There was just such an energy of excitement, of pure joy permeating throughout the entire season - excitement not just for the Christmas Comeback Crisis, but for how SiIvaGunner was *actually* back, firing on all cylinders. The rips were referencing events we were already nostalgic over, althewhile introducing new jokes in clever, memorable ways - the Inspector Gadget takeover and Become as Gadget will forever stick with me as one of the most engrossing events the channel has ever done.

To put it one way...in my (nostalgia-blinded) eyes, Season 2 was the most "unified" the channel ever felt. We were all invested in every little corner of the channel's ongoings, we were all aware of the origins of and meaning of all the active jokes...that kind of investment and attachment to all the featured jokes felt sort of like if Season 4 Episode 2's Summer Fes had lasted for an entire Season! And while we've certainly got a far wider, far more ambitious output of rips in Season 5 onward in particular, it was that feeling of unification that made rips like ULTRA S+G hit like fucking crazy.

The thing you'll immediately notice when clicking on ULTRA S+G is, of course, the visuals, a full-length parody of the visuals featured in the original ULTRA B+K music video, completely reimagined to feature several of SiIva's own memes from Season 2. The visuals are, of course, in sync with the main joke of the rip, in being a huge meme medley of various sources, most replacing the original song's "bass" and "kick" vocal samples. The resulting sound hits you like several trains throughout the rip, be it the opening of "DEE-DEE-DEE-DEE-DEE ; KAY-KAY-KAY-KAY-KAY!!", the beat-dropping "Miney Crafta"s and "GRAND DAD"s, the midsection covered by the good ol' PSY samples a la One Winged PSYcho - V​.​S. Sepsyrop...and while all that is happening, you're met with visuals that go absolutely above and beyond just parodying the original. It has little references to the events of Season 1, such as the infamous Bean or the Mr. Rental storyline of Mr. Rental [B Side] ~ Out of Options...and, hey - an animation of The Voice Inside Your Head!! What ULTRA S+G conveys above all else is the extent of the journey we had all been on over the course of almost two years, a hype-beyond-belief shot directly into the arm of everything SiIvaGunner embodies.

Kirbio's output on the channel is impressive in its sheer scope, and recently of note arranged one of Season 1's greatest in the form of Return to Collision Clouds. Its likely coincidental, but I enjoy how both that arrangement as late in as Season 7, as well as ULTRA S+G, manage to convey that feeling of the long journey the channel's been on in entirely different ways: Return to Collision Clouds has a sentimental feel to it, wheras ULTRA S+G may as well be hype incarnate. An explosive beginning to the end of Season 2, its the kind of rip that I cannot stop returning to for the memories alone - helped, of course, by the rip itself being an incredible watch and listen.

#todays siivagunner #season 2 #siivagunner #siiva #Kirbio #rip visuals #SAF #ultra b+k #jubeat #jubeat plus #rhythm games #nora2r #bms #iidx #beatmania iidx #hardcore music #Youtube #Bandcamp

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Do you know the toy "laro-lato" in the Philippines? ITS SO EFFING ANNOYING ITS NIGHTITME AND ALL I HEAR IS THIS FREAKING TOY!

(you can search it on tiktok and you'll understand how incredibly annoying it is to the point it was banned from ever used {though the reason was entirely different})

It brought a sudden... Idea...

What if (y/n) was playing one of those and then... The strawhats' kinda liked it...? But then law was on the ship so... Wouldn't he be annoyed?

Lol

So I'd never actually heard of this toy before so I looked it up. In short videos, it's not that bad. That being said, the videos were maybe a minute long. I can't imagine listening to them constantly. Also, for this, I made the reader part of the straw hat crew. I hope it's okay.

Warnings: mentions of reader biting Luffy, annoying toys, reader 'attacking' Law

Word Count: 1210

     The crew never really minded the little toy. It made noise, it entertained you, and Luffy, but they weren’t ever bothered by it unless you and Luffy were playing with them late into the night. Heck, Usopp had even ‘reverse engineered’ more so you could play together, pulling off silly tricks, making bets on who could keep it going the longest, or just busying yourselves when you had nothing else to do. Walking down the halls, you fiddled with your toy absentmindedly. The toy was almost always on your person, often clicking as you walked around the ship. While Franky had made a few new ones with interesting additions that the crew used, the original one was your favorite, having been a gift from your family. They’d gotten used to the signature click-clack of the toy as you walked into a room, finding a certain comfort in always knowing that where they could find clicking, they could find you. Law, however, was another story. He’d only been with the crew for a few hours and he already hated the stupid plastic toy more than any other he’d ever run across. How some of the other Straw hats hadn’t gotten fed up with it was beyond him. Luffy, Usopp, Chopper, and Franky he could understand, but how could Robin or Nami deal with the constant clacking?! Subsequently, he’d taken to hiding in places you weren’t. If you were on deck, he was either in the library or below deck. You were in the dorms? He was up in the crow’s nest. You were in the gym? He was in the kitchen. He avoided you and that infernal toy like the plague! While a few of the crew had noticed how he avoided you, they, thankfully, hadn’t said or done anything. 

     Today, however, seemed to be his current personal hell as the entire crew seemed to be playing with them. According to Robin, one of the crew, Law didn’t care which, had decided to start one of their challenges, prompting them to grab their various toys. Franky had one that made machine noises, Nami had one that sounded like thunder or rain, Sanji had one that contained women’s voices, something that Law found almost as disturbing as the toy itself, Brook’s played music, Zoro’s was made of metal, Robin’s didn’t seem to make much noise at all, something Law was thankful for, and Luffy, Usopp and Chopper all had plastic ones that make the signature clack that he’d come to hate. The challenge was simple, who could keep theirs going all day without any stopping. This meant that they all had to keep the infernal contraptions going until they faltered, the toy going silent and granting Law a moment of silence. Like damn near everything they did, the winner got a prize of their choice, so long as it was within reason. Had Law not despised the toy already, he might have joined in just to make everyone stop playing with them for no less than 24 hours. What was worse was that apparently, most of the crew was quite skilled with them, meaning that the sounds continued all day! 

     Luffy had been the first one out, messing up the moment that Sanji announced lunch, the rubber boy immediately dropping the plastic thing and rushing to get lunch. How Sanji managed to make lunch with that thing on, was beyond Law, but somehow the blond cook managed. Nami was the second one out, having messed up while chewing Luffy out for something, what, Law didn’t really care. Next was Zoro, the man unable to train while keeping the metal toy going at the same time. Next had been Chopper, the reindeer looking particularly sad as he realized that he’d lost, somewhat reminding Law of Bepo giving him puppy dog eyes. Usopp was forced to drop his when a sea king surfaced, scaring the young man. Sanji messed up while tripping over himself to get Nami and Robin snacks, Brook was next, Luffy demanding music, forcing the skeleton to choose between the toy or his violin. The last 3 were you, Franky, and Robin. Robin had a second pair of hands managing hers, something that Luffy, Nami, Usopp, and Chopper claimed was cheating but since no rules had been established, she was allowed to do as she wished. Franky had a weird extra pair of hands that came out of his larger hands, allowing him to work while keeping the machine like toy going. And finally, you. You who seemed to have a knack for this thing. Perhaps it was to be expected, you played with it constantly and had been the one to introduce the crew to it, so it made sense. 

     It was dinner and Law wasn’t sure how much more he could take. It was just you and Robin now, her extra hand still keeping the toy going while you just… kept going. Slamming his hands on the table, Law glared at you and Robin, his room covering the table as he shambles’d the toys out of your and Robin’s hands, replaced by the salt and pepper shakers.

     “That’s fucking enough! These things are a menace!” Law shouted, now holding the toys before slamming them down on the table. The crew watched on in stunned silence, staring at the toy under Law’s hand, almost in fear. You looked down at Law’s hand before looking back up at him.

     “Give. That. Back.” you said quietly, your voice turning dark as you returned the glare.

     “Not a chance! You can have it back once I’m off the damned ship!” Law shouted, still furious with the clacking. In an instant, Law found himself laying on his back on the ground as you straddled him, a furious look in your eyes as you held his wrist, your grip uncomfortably tight.

     “I said give it back.” you growled, surprising the young man. Staring up at you for a moment, he opened his hand, letting you quickly snatch the toy from him, holding it close to your chest before grabbing your plate and running off to the deck.

     “Oh, right. We should have mentioned. She’s very protective of that toy. It was the last thing her family gave her before she set sail. It’s the only thing that calms her down when she’s upset.” Robin said with a knowing smile, taking a bite of her food. Law stayed on the floor for a moment, still stunned before finally pulling himself up off the floor and back up to the table. 

     “The first time Luffy wanted to try it, she bit him.” Usopp said with a nod, Luffy wincing at the memory. You’d bitten into his arm when he’d refused to return the toy. He’d been fine in the end, but it had still hurt. After that, they’d asked why you’d bitten him. After explaining why you didn’t let anyone touch it, they’d all agreed to stay away from it, Usopp only asking to see it long enough to make more. Law glanced back at the door before starting to eat. It looked like he was just going to have to either get used to it or continue avoiding you until it was time to part ways.

#one piece #one piece luffy #op luffy #mugiwara no luffy #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy #luffy #straw hat luffy #platonic strawhat crew x reader #zoro roronoa #roronoa zoro #pirate hunter zoro #strawhat pirates #king of hell zoro #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #one piece zoro #op zoro #op sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji vinsmoke #op Nami #one piece nami #cat burglar nami #one piece brook #op brook #soul king brook #one piece franky #op franky #cyborg franky

[mannatea]

2023 was a great year for me in terms of writing productivity. Writing 285,000 words in one year was not only incredible—it's also the most I've written in a single year in the 20+ years I've been writing fanfiction. And that number doesn't even include the RP I've done (which is at least another 115,000 words as of today).

I love writing fanfiction. I love my blorbos. I love character writing. In fact, I love it so much, I spent the last 20 years convinced that I would never give original fiction a real try.

But 2024 will be different.

Tales of Symphonia has been an interesting fandom to write for. It's very quiet and secluded (as far as fandoms go). There isn't much overlap when it comes to ships/shipping, either, resulting in a very limited audience.

I've written for quiet/small fandoms before, but this is the first time I've written a multi-chapter story for a fandom like this, and in the interest of being completely honest I have to admit: I have mixed feelings. On one hand, I kneecapped myself by choosing to write stories about children/babies/pregnancy (which I'm certain cut my potential readership in half) and it felt pretty bad to commit myself to stories that didn't garner much interest. On the other hand, I completed two 100,000-word long stories this year—something I've never managed to do before in my entire life.

And I think there's something to be said for the fact that I did complete those stories...and quickly. I blasted through Break Open the Sky in three weeks, and finished The World Could Be Beautiful in something like six weeks. That's fast, and it gave me time to recharge while I edited and posted the work (which meant I wasn't relying on feedback/comments to keep going). That's incredible for me; I've never done that before.

It helps that I'm very passionate about my blorobs, and that I chose stories that play to my literary strengths (character writing + Identity), but that I managed to, for the first time in 20+ years of writing, write for the passion of it—without relying on comments/reviews—is a game-changer.

TO BE CLEAR: I'm very grateful for the feedback I received this year. @likes-words-and-shrimp was the MVP in welcoming me back to the ToS fandom, and honestly...without her influence (and @trash-god's unwavering support despite not even being in the ToS fandom) I don't think I would have done much writing this year. <3

But I did write—a lot—and it had me considering my newfound capabilities and my future.

This is where my feelings get very conflicted. I love fanfiction specifically because it's fanfiction; I love the characters, and I love exploring worlds and universes whose rules are not entirely up to me. I never wanted to write original fiction because I didn't want to have to try to create these things myself...mostly because I wholeheartedly believed for 20 years that I was the kind of writer who wasn't good at (or capable of) writing endearing or interesting OCs.

Do I still believe that? I'm honestly not sure, but I do know it was an easy excuse. You can't fail if you don't try, you know.

Moving on.

Here are three deeply, brutally honest confessions:

First, my spouse (the very one I met through my fanfiction way back in 2003) thinks I'm wasting talent and skill writing fanfiction that "maybe 3 people will read." He knows I do it for fun (the way other people watch TV, for example) but I think he's incapable of understanding why I'd work so hard on something I know won't get much attention. (I don't know how to feel about the "talent and skill" part of this. He hasn't read my creative writing in almost a decade.)

Confession the Second: while I'm not opposed to writing for a small (old, quiet) fandom with a 3-person audience for the fun and passion of writing my beloved blorbos, it is disheartening to spend literally hundreds of hours writing with very little engagement. (It's the nature of the beast of small/old/quiet fandoms, yes, but it still feelsbadman.)

My third and final confession is to say that I am confident I could get just as much attention with original fiction as I do fanfiction these days. (The bar is low, but that's the point.)

Look, I'm not delusional. I know my writing is heavily character-focused and, to that end, sometimes boring and/or ploddingly slow. I'm also very aware of the fact that original fiction requires a different skillset than fanfic—especially in some genres. I'm not doing this to please my husband (I don't think he actually cares that much) and I'm not doing this to quit my day job (I write too much niche bullshit to ever make a living writing), but damn, I'm at a point in my life where I think I'd be remiss not to give original fiction writing a fair and reasonable chance.

Will it feel bad to bust ass and get like three readers? Yes. But that feels bad regardless of the project in question. At least if I write a book and it flops horribly I can say I tried. At this point, it's more of a question of, "Why not?" than anything.

What's the worst that happens? I fail? At that point I'll just turn my original fiction into a goddamn fanfic. Reverse Uno.

TL;DR: I love writing fanfiction but it's hard to write for a small fandom, and now that I know I can write complete long stories, I've decided that for 2024, I will be setting fanfiction down to see what I can manage with original fiction.

Wish me luck, y'all. ✌

#thanks so much for your support this year everyone #it really does mean a lot! and despite what this post says #i think a lot of the fact that i'm willing to give original fiction a try #is thanks to all of you. <3 #mini shoutout to those folks from like 2007 who told me to write original fiction too #i didn't forget i was just a coward #thoughts about writing

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Scattered Screams Deleted Scenes

Eleanor, consider this a little reward for you to read through after you’ve finished your final exams today! I hope they went well for you!

Now, as I’ve done with most of my longer series in the past, I have compiled a list of all of the ideas I had from way back in November when I started thinking up ideas for Scattered Screams. There are a handful that aren’t organized by what part they would be in as they had no part at all, but the ones that would have been in a part, are labeled with where they belong. Here is my list of deleted scenes!

The earliest version of this story was vastly different. I never let it go public, but I had a full, well-organized Pinterest board for this alternate version. I had just come out of writing Through the Valley and it really shows as things are entirely different right from the start. Originally, the arena was going to be a flooded, overgrown city where muttations ruled over the land and the only way to escape them was to stay in high-rise skyscrapers, crossing from building to building on old, rickety sky bridges and collecting supplies from whatever was left in the buildings. The only solid thing I had written out for this before I scrapped it was the ending, so here is my original ending: 

“Vivien and Royce make it to the end like Katniss and Peeta. After arguing for a while about who they think should go home to their families, Vivien suggests they just wait it out. Royce agrees and they go to sleep in a skyscraper. While Royce sleeps, Vivien goes up to the roof with the plan of jumping off, leaving Royce the winner. The gamemakers make it morning which wakes Royce and when he finds her gone, he runs up to the roof to check if she’s there. He gets there just in time to see her standing by the edge and tries to talk her down, pulling a “you jump, I jump” kind of moment. Instead, they fight for it like Hawkeye and Black Widow and it ends the same way or they both decide to jump and the capitol saves them.”

So, yeah, my intention was to make everyone, including you ✨suffer✨

A few things remained the same from the early version of Scattered Screams - Jade, Erica, and Lexi being a big part of this. In my initial version, they were a team of five and Lexi ended up betraying them to the Careers before getting herself killed. I didn’t think of Riven until I started working on my list of characters for each district and he was supposed to be just a throwaway character for Scattered Screams. Once I started writing him more and liking his character, I threw him into my Christmas stories in order to form a sort of connection with him before killing him off in Scattered Screams. Initially, he was going to die early on or go off on his own in the arena, using the billboards around the city to send messages to not only the Capitol, but also the other tributes. In the end, I liked him a lot and, when I changed the arena to the cruise ship, I went through all that I had written and rewrote it all to fit his personality, his character, and his bond with Vivien.

In one of my early drafts, I wrote out some little ideas for Bentley being the one in the arena, not Royce. It was going to be a volunteering situation where Royce was reaped and Bentley stepped in out of instinct, but I didn’t really care for it as much. Obviously, it didn’t last long, but the idea was there all the same. In the arena, it was going to feel more like a Katniss and Rue situation than a Katniss and Peeta situation. In the end, Vivien would have willingly killed herself to let Bentley go home to his brothers as she is the oldest of her siblings and knows how much it would hurt his brothers if he was to die, especially by her hand.

Almost everything until the arena has remained the same since the get-go, but this was something I wrote really early on that I only partially kept: 

Vivien doesn’t want to get close to anyone because she remembers what happened with Mick and Miles the year before. Despite Viv’s best efforts, Royce weasels his way into Vivien’s little circle. He falls first, she falls harder. In the end, the only reason they’re sticking together is that their teammates asked them to. Royce gets poisoned by Serena and gets really sick, fast. Vivien reluctantly decides to help him because he’s Mick’s friend’s brother. She doesn’t care about him (or so she claims) and wants to help him so her conscious is clear, but ends up falling for him as they work together on a cure.

A couple of things I tried to incorporate early on were some basic themes that call back to other stories or films. A few quotes in the story are lines from Marvel movies, The Last of Us, Harry Potter, or shows I’ve seen clips of on TikTok. Obviously, Romeo and Juliet played a good part in this story, but so did Titanic. Not only does the story take place on a literal cruise ship, but I also used a few direct quotes from the movie. Early on, when they’re on the roof, Royce asks Vivien if she’s scared of being on the roof and she tells him, “I’ll jump if you do.” This is something they call back to a few times in the series and it’s something Jack and Rose say in the movie - “You jump, I jump.” They were devoted to each other early on and it shows. Another thing I was going to do was pull an actual Titanic and sink the ship when they got to the wheelhouse, but it didn’t make sense in the long run and I had to discard it.

Something I never really touched on was the location of the arena, but I did sort of hint at it in the epilogue when Vivien mentions the bridge she saw from the hovercraft being in District 4. That bridge is the Golden Gate Bridge in California, meaning that the arena was somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. I'd say that, since they were close enough to see a crow (once again, another easter egg) that they were most likely near the Farallon Islands. They would be far enough from the mainland, yet close enough to the islands to see the bird.

Now, of course, the bird. Yes, the crow had significance. Crows, like ravens, are considered to be bad omens. One crow signifies death and a flock of crows is called a murder. One crow on the railing + the explosion + Lexi's tracker removal = Riven's death. Yeah... I thought I was so clever with that one, but I figured it out while I was half asleep and I doubt it came across as anything clever haha.

I had to do some extensive research on modern cruise ships for this story as my sole interest has, for the longest time, been on Titanic. The cruise ship I not only modeled the fictional one off of, but also named it after, is Norwegian Cruise Line’s Viva. I changed around some of the deck plans as there wasn’t much for me to work with image-wise, but some things like the Cornucopia and raceway are easy to see from the pictures online. There is a place on board called the Haven. It’s a set of luxury suites that I intended to use as a place for the victors to stay until the ship could reach port and there is a mention of it in part 8, but I never used it. The theatre, slides, casino, various restaurants, and atrium are all real locations on board, but sadly, there is no library. That is something I constructed all on my own.

(Part 8) Vivien’s first days in the arena were going to be spent on her own, looking for the others. This entire part was going to cover the first three days in the arena with Vivien hiding out, avoiding other tributes, gathering supplies, and eventually running into Lexi, who had ventured off on her own to find a bathroom. The two of them would have teamed up to fight off tributes from District 2 before cleaning up in the bathroom, bandaging each other, discussing their plans, and getting to know each other. In the end, Lexi would reunite Vivien with Royce as they had run into each other before and it was going to be a sort of bonding moment to really drive home their alliance/friendship before shit hit the fan.

(Part 9) As Vivien’s reunion with Riven would have been moved to this part, a lot more was going to be added to fill the gap. The reunion itself was going to be a lot longer and more intense, the pair finding each other while Riven was busy fighting of the guy from District 1. The thermal goggles would have had more purpose, the wheelhouse as a whole would have been used more, and I had an actual plan to use both of those tools to take out all of the cameras and electricity on the ship, forcing the Capitol to go searching for the ship which would have been floating aimlessly in the Pacific Ocean. With no rules and no cameras, what would the tributes do? Would they put down their weapons and let things go for the time being or would they simply kill each other off with no remorse while our little trio simply relaxes in the wheelhouse, watching the chaos unfold down below? Honestly, I wasn’t sure of it myself, but I still had to scrap the idea as I would have been dragging things way out and making everything more complicated for myself. The only quote I still have from this idea is a single sentence of Vivien’s thoughts on the wheelhouse, but it’s small, so here you go:

When Royce first showed me the keycard for the wheelhouse, I had been worried about the possibility of District 4 finding it before us since they, of all people, should know how to operate a ship, but with the only one old enough to work on a ship being dead and the other one being a whiny little bitch, I suppose the odds were in our favor after all. 

(Part 9) Before I settled on the wheelhouse exploding due to our trio helping Jade, Lexi, and Erica, it was going to be a sort of safe zone that they would have used a lot more, like I mentioned in the last bullet point. Sadly, once I scrapped most of what I’d written, I never saved it to another folder, so I was left with practically nothing but a short quote. This would have happened early the same morning the wheelhouse exploded in the actual story. Before waking the boys, Vivien would have warned the girls about the Careers coming to kill them and, once the boys were awake, this conversation would have ensued:

“Are you guys thinking of going out for supplies this morning?” I ask as Riven lets out a yawn and digs into his backpack for some food to cook.

“Maybe,” Royce shrugs. “Why, what’s up?”

“Well, if you are, you should probably steer clear of the theatre.”

“Why?” Riven asks.

“The Careers decided to hunt Jade, Erica, and Lexi down and I warned them earlier about it,” I reply with a shrug. “I’m betting that they’re probably playing an intense game of hide and seek right now.”

Royce chuckles, “If the girls know that theatre really well, they could probably kill all of them off in one day.”

“They seemed to think they had it under control,” I tell them. “With any luck, the Careers will be out of the picture sooner rather than later.”

(Part 10) When Riven goes off on his own and Royce and Vivien overhear his conversation, the original conversation and the confrontation they have afterward were going to be very different. I had multiple versions of them, actually. I changed the mystery person multiple times. At first, it was Mick, then it was Carrie, then it was Butchy and Kona, then Mack and Brady, and I went back and forth between trying to pick someone for ages. My first edition of the talk they overheard was going to make it very obvious who he was talking to, so I struggled on that scene for a long time. Then, when I settled on making it a bit of a mystery, I had to get through the aftermath. Initially, it was a big blowout that resulted in the trio going their separate ways for the rest of the day, being brought back together by muttations since the Capitol citizens liked them better together. Then, I wanted it to be a sort of thing Royce and Vivien kept to themselves. The conversation I have for it isn’t very far off of what I ended up using, but it sort of shows how Royce takes Vivien’s statement about Riven not putting them in danger and keeps his desire to interrogate Riven to himself.

Once he adjusts to being benched for the rest of the day, Riven asks, “Did you two finish that book of yours while I was gone?”

I have to laugh, “I doubt either of us could read that fast, Riv.”

“Besides, we got sidetracked,” Royce adds as he begins pulling out the food we can make for dinner. 

I try to send him a look telling him to shut up about what we heard, but it goes unnoticed as Riven asks, “Oh yeah? What happened?”

Royce turns, meeting my gaze for a brief moment before locking eyes with Riven and smirking, “Vivien was too worried about you being alone to focus on the book, so we stopped reading and I tried to talk her out of following you until you told us you were on your way back.”

Riven laughs as he reaches over the back of the couch to nudge my arm, “You were worried about me, huh?”

I force a chuckle out as I roll my eyes his way, “Yeah, like a hangnail I’m afraid to peel.”

Riven laughs and Royce smiles as he shakes his head, returning to the food at hand. I wonder why he didn’t say something. He looked as though he wanted to, yet he held his tongue… Why? Once Riven relaxes back into the couch cushions, I get to work helping Royce cook dinner. I catch his eyes and send him a confused look which he smiles at, whispering, “You told me to trust him, didn’t you?”

“I did,” I mutter, “but I thought-”

“That I was upset and willing to argue?” Royce offers as he places some meat on a plate. I give a hesitant nod and he shakes his head, chuckling, “I trust your judgement. Besides, he’s injured. It makes no sense to stress him out even more.”

I feel a smile tugging at my lips and, just when I’m about to thank him, the couch creaks and Riven pushes himself to sit up, turning to us with his signature grin, “What are you two whispering about?”

Royce takes over checking and flipping the meat while I stand with Riven’s plate of food and cross the space between the grill and Riven, holding his plate out for him to take as I smirk and reply, “Debating how hard it would be to shove you off the side of the ship.”

(Part 10) Instead of the scene with Volt and Elektra, there was going to be a scene where either, during the night, Royce falls asleep on watch duty and is taken as a hostage by Volt and Elektra so they can get something from Riven and Vivien in return or there would’ve been this scene with Serena where she takes something the trio need (medicine or something similar). She leaves them a note on the library door and they agree to meet with her. Vivien has an inkling that Serena will have someone nearby watching to make sure things go as planned, so she climbs onto the Cornucopia to get a better view and takes out the sniper Serena had on standby (probably the guy from District 4 as, when I wrote the idea down, he wasn’t killed off in the first day in the arena). on a rooftop and takes over, shooting someone the second they touch Royce. Royce leads the meeting as he’s the only one Serena listens to, but it’s clear Serena intends on killing Riven and Vivien when she gets the chance. The second Serena makes a grab for Royce, Vivien fires a crossbow bolt into her shoulder, giving Royce and Riven enough time to grab the supplies and run for cover.

(Part 10) Once I got around to figuring out the whole situation with Volt and Elektra, I got a bit carried away with it. The entire section with them was going to be a lot longer and more intense, but I had to cut it as, in the end, it made little sense. At this point, in my notes, they still would have had the thermal goggles and, with the laser tag place being a sort of maze, they would have played cat and mouse with the pair before eventually catching them when Vivien climbs to a higher vantage point and guides them on where to go. Instead of sparing them, there would have been a bit of a struggle before Elektra brought out a knife in her fight against Riven and Vivien would have shot her without hesitation. In return, either Royce or Riven would have taken out Volt and, upon their return to the library, they would have had to suffer through the knowledge that they killed two people. It would have been a lot heavier and the impact would have been pretty intense, especially on the Victory Tour, but I can’t see any of the three willingly killing them as they were already pretty weak and had little going for them. In the end, I took the pacifist route.

(Part 11) Part 11 is probably the one with the most changes to two certain parts and I’m sure you can guess which ones! I’ll start off easy by saying that I wasn’t entirely sure who would die in the end. At first, it was going to be Royce. Then, it was going to be a fake death like in the last story where Kona’s tracker drained. In that case, it would have been Vivien. Then, I’d played with the idea of Riven being the sole victor, but that didn’t work out, so I went with it being Vivien as she is the person telling the story, after all. Ultimately, I went with the decision I felt worked out the best, but I had a lot of things that changed as I went. These are a few of the options I went through

(Option 1) If both Vivien and Royce were to die and Riven were to come out as the victor, it would’ve happened in one of two ways. The first one is a Romeo-and-Juliet-style death. Vivien and Riven would’ve been knocked unconscious in the explosion and, when Royce sees his friend and girlfriend covered in blood, unresponsive, he takes matters into his own hands and kills himself beside them. When she awakens, Vivien sees the aftermath of Royce’s choice and follows him, leaving Riven on his own. Not wanting to let their deaths be in vain, Riven goes on a rampage, killing the others and coming out on top. The other possibility would have been a Titanic ending. The ship sinks and the three of them stick things out together until the end, but they underestimate the power Serena has in the ocean. She drowns Royce and Vivien in the frenzy as Riven swims toward them from where the pull of the sinking ship carried him. In the end, Riven kills Serena and is crowned as victor despite wanting to go out alongside his friends.

(Option 2) In the scenario where Royce dies, it would most likely have been during a reluctant fight between them and the theatre girls. Vivien is heartbroken and wants nothing more than to go out with him, but Riven still has the drive to help her make it out of the arena and back to her family, so they take out the other remaining tributes and try to find a way out together. The ending is similar to the original, with them being rescued after attempting to eat berries together. They go on to become the only siblings to simultaneously win a Hunger Games.

(Option 3) With Vivien as their “camera ghost”, the boys would work to find a way out of the arena, using her as a way to block out footage of them sneaking around. Eventually, they would find a way into the catacombs through the Cornucopia and escape using a submersible that brings them back to shore. Finding themselves on the outskirts of District 4, they work to find their way through the ruins of what had once been cities and towns, eventually making their way back home where everyone presumes they died in the arena.

(Part 11) Riven’s death/”death” was going to result in some far more gruesome scenes and I want to warn you about that before I go into detail. I want to go over how the entire thing almost went down as there are two versions I absolutely loved and was close to writing, but just know, this would be far gorier than what I wrote in the actual story. Also, the detail I used when I had written out for some of these in full made me have to stop in the process and take a break because it was just that intense for me.

(Version 1) After being separated by a fire that was set up by the Gamemakers, Vivien and Royce have to find their way through the ship’s interior to find Riven. Using the thermal goggles, Vivien would have guided them around the fire to a long hallway with multiple branches. Seeing faint traces of footprints on the carpets, they follow the path until it splits - one set of feet heading to the left and another set heading to the right. Deciding they need to find Riven regardless of whoever took the other path, Royce and Vivien split up, each armed with an axe and some other knives as Riven has the more impressive weaponry with him. Vivien trails off to the left path and watches as the traces of heat become more vivid with the goggles. Eventually, she stumbles upon a restaurant of sorts where she comes face to face with something out of her worst nightmare: Riven unconscious with Lexi above him, both of them covered in blood. Seeing nothing but red, Vivien’s grasp on her weapon tightens as she runs toward them swinging her axe into Lexi’s arm and tackling her to the floor before bringing her axe into Lexi’s skull, ending the battle right then and there as a pair of cannons blast. In a panic, Vivien scrambles over to Riven who, according to the Capitol, is dead. She brings him to her in a hug, not caring about the blood now soaking both of them in a shade of thick crimson, holding him close to listen to his heartbeat, but finding none as a relentless stream of tears flow from her. Royce enters the room, finding the aftermath of what went down and tries to coax Vivien away from Riven, to no avail. Vivien screams at Royce when he tries to pull her away after the Gamemakers tell them they need to vacate the area, telling him she won’t leave Riven and muttering things about promises they made. Eventually, after Vivien passes out from exhaustion because of the stress and overwhelming emotions, Royce moves Vivien out to the hallway before going back for their supplies, kneeling beside Riven and promising him that he will take care of Vivien in his stead before leaving to bring Vivien somewhere safe. In this version, he is actually dead.

(Version 2) This version takes place in the same strain as the previous one; they get separated in the same manner and have to find their way back to each other. Instead, who Vivien stumbles upon is Riven and Serena. Serena hears Vivien enter the restaurant just as a cannon, presumably Riven’s, goes off and, once Vivien chucks her axe at Serea, the two engage in a game of cat and mouse, both hiding and hunting the other. In the midst of the fight, Serena grabs a burning stick from the fireplace near the front of the restaurant and throws it at Vivien, who ducks out of the way, allowing it to catch the curtains of a nearby window on fire. The intricately designed, wooden interior of the restaurant begins to burn as fire spreads through it. Eventually, Vivien corners Serena, throwing a wine glass at her as a distraction before driving one of her knives into Serena’s shoulder from behind. The two struggle briefly, Serena pinning Vivien to the edge of a table before reaching over her shoulder with her good arm, grabbing Vivien by the shirt, and throwing her to the floor. Serena examines the damage to her shoulder as a winded Vivien catches Riven’s eye, the barely conscious man guiding her gaze toward the machete he had dropped earlier. Gathering her strength, Vivien crawls forward only a few feet before Serena lands a swift kick to Vivien’s side, sending her crumbling to the floor again. Serena taunts her, telling her that it’s alright to give up and that she can join her friend in the afterlife if she does. Instead of giving in, Vivien pushes herself to move again, making it another few feet before Serena kicks her again. This time, Serena crouches, taking Vivien’s hair in her grasp and lifting her head from the floor before taunting her some more, “Why don’t you try begging? I might just kill you quicker if you do.” When Vivien responds with a simple, hissed, “Fuck you,” Serena pulls Vivien by her hair onto her back before bringing her hands to the brunette’s throat. With the machete within reach, Vivien stretches under a nearby chair for it as Serena chokes her. Her fingers enclose on the thick hilt and Vivien uses what strength she has to swing the blade into the forearm of a shocked Serena. The roles flip as Vivien climbs on top of Serena, swinging Riven’s blade into Serena’s face until a pair of arms come around her waist and pull her off, leaving the blade still lodged in the redhead’s skull. Vivien tries to fight off the person who grabbed her, only to find it was Riven. He holds her for a while until Royce stumbles upon the room, coughing as the fire blankets the room in thick, black smoke. The boys escort Vivien away from the scene and comfort her as she relives the experience. Riven’s picture illuminates the sky that night and it’s then that the trio decide to try to think of ways to escape the arena with Riven as their cover from all of the cameras. As you can tell, this ending is similar to the “camera ghost” ending I mentioned before, but with Riven as the ghost instead of Vivien. There is another version of this exact scenario where Riven is, in fact, dead. In that version, Vivien sees the machete under a chair near his body and it’s Royce who pulls her off. However, I liked the “happy ending” of Riven being alive the way Kona was in Glory and Gore.

(Part 12) This part was originally going to be immensely long and, out of all the parts I had written, this one had the most deleted ideas, by far. I mean, I was going to cover the end of the Games, the crowning ceremony, and the train ride home as well as the months leading up to the Victory Tour, the tour itself, and the aftermath. It would’ve been well over 100 pages by the time I was done, especially if you take into account that the part ended up being 52 pages and the epilogue was 47. Obviously, I have no intention of writing out every scene I deleted, but I have a list of almost everything and where they would’ve gone, and you’re going to get that list in no particular order.

In the arena:

1 - After everyone else in the arena is dead, Royce and Vivien break into the Haven Suite, declaring themselves the victors despite the Capitol not allowing them both to be. During a sleepless night, Vivien leaves the safety of their room and heads for the front of the ship. A worried Royce wakes to find himself alone in their room and searches the back of the ship, screaming for her to not jump as he knows she’s been upset over Riven’s passing. Vivien hears him and runs to him, finding him hauling himself over the railings to jump in after her after seeing a muttation of her in the water, calling for him to join her. The real Vivien talks him down and tells him she was looking at the dolphins at the front of the boat. She walks him back to the front and he tells her he was worried she’d killed himself. Vivien smiles and tells him, “A few days ago, I would’ve. But now, I realize I have something to live for.” Royce watches her curiously before asking, “Oh, yeah? What would that be?” With a roll of her eyes, Vivien brings her arms around his shoulders and replies, “Some idiot who would willingly jump into the middle of the ocean to save me.”

2 - A scene that I almost wrote was the theatre fight between Jade, Erica, Lexi, and the Careers. I never really played out the whole thing as it would’ve been sort of awkward to write it from Vivien’s POV as she’s watching the cameras in the wheelhouse. Regardless, I knew that it was going to end with Jade killing off the other tribute from her district in order to save Erica’s life. In my head, when I was trying to write this out, it was always Jade killing Onyx, her fellow tribute from District 1.

3 - One of my absolute favorite deleted scenes was something I called “Paper Rings” (yes, it was named after the Taylor Swift song lol). This would have been laced through the other parts before coming to a head at the end. It would have started simply enough back around the time they admitted their feelings for each other on the roof with Royce taking a wrapper from a piece of candy on the rooftop and turning it into a ring for Vivien. Once they were together in the library, Vivien would have done the same with a piece of paper from a notepad, this time having written a short message on the outside for him to read. In return, he would take the wrapper from a straw in a restaurant and make her one after the wheelhouse fire. This would have been a sort of back-and-forth between the two of them before culminating in one of two endings. The first would have been a moment in the jewelry shop after everyone else is dead and they decide to give each other rings as a sign of their love being so deep they would rather live on the ship for the rest of their lives than kill each other. The second ending would have been a near-copy of Katniss and Peeta where they both bring out rings in the interview after the Victory Tour - showing that they both wanted to propose to each other. In the end, I decided against it as I felt like it would copy the original source material too closely and I wanted things to feel more realistic in that moment.

4 - At one point, I was teetering on the edge of Riven being fully dead and, around that time, I had the idea of there being a muttation of him that would be connected with Vivien’s tracker, making it so that she is the only person capable of seeing him. This, of course, would have had an immense impact on her and Royce would have had to deal with her simply wandering off, chasing after someone who simply isn’t there. Depending on a variety of variables, this ghost of Riven could have easily convinced her to harm others or herself as she slips further and further into insanity. I was fully prepared to go deep into this psychological torture timeline, but figured it would be too much for me to handle emotionally as it would have dealt with a lot of emotional and mental manipulation, especially seeing as we’re seeing everything from her perspective. I think it would’ve been a bit much.

In the Capitol:

1 - After their time in the arena, I would have prolonged the time Royce and Vivien spent in the Capitol, allowing Carrie and Juliet to take them on little excursions through the city before returning to the Training Center. I know this isn’t accurate to the books, but I was so ready to write out full trips to the apartment Carrie and Juliet share, glittering shopping areas, and fancy restaurants with food so expensive that Royce and Vivien have no clue what to do with. Honestly, I just really wanted to make them feel out of place and a bit more reliant on their stylists who make sure to help them feel at home in their home city.

2 - One of the things I wanted to work with the most in this extended stay in the Capitol was a long scene where Royce and Vivien find out that, to save them from the hordes of crazy Capitol residents trying to buy the chance for a night with either (or both) of them, Carrie and Juliet bought them from the president. This would have been during a visit to the girls’ apartment where they decide to sit the teens down and have an honest conversation, approaching the topic with gentle, yet direct honesty. I think it would have been a moment of realization for them that the victors that had won under the previous president’s reign, had been forced into prostitution or something similar and that they had been saved from a somewhat similar fate by their stylists. This is where I could see Royce and Carrie’s relationship really blossoming as he realizes just how much she must care for not only him, but also Vivien. I feel like that would mean the world to him and allow him to see more of the Carrie that he tries so hard to push away. It also gives a bit of insight into the reason why everyone is so protective of the two of them after they leave the arena. Now, I think this goes without saying, but I highly doubt Juliet’s dad would have kept up the whole prostitution thing that President Snow had. It makes even less sense when you take into account that he seems to treat the victors like the children they are. This is the biggest reason as to why I scrapped it.

3 - In multiple different places, I was planning on making a little nod to Vivien’s culture by utilizing her braids. Now, in Native American culture, braids are important. Across almost all tribes, there is a statement that the three strands represent the mind, body, and soul of the person. In some tribes, people only cut their hair for certain reasons - marriage being one of them. There was going to be a place in the arena where Vivien explains this as a tradition to Royce and they decide to cut a piece of their hair off and tie them together into a knot to signify their love. In another part, Vivien was going to have a thick, six-stranded braid with specific colors woven into each strand to signify someone she loves - her parents, siblings, Mick, Riven, her co-workers, and Royce.

4 - The only other thing I have for this area is a deleted conversation that would have taken place after the meeting with the president, presumably in the car or on the train when they were alone. Keep in mind that, in this segment, I thought Royce was going to be injured for some reason - a broken arm at the most.

“That was so fucking bizarre,” I mutter.

“Which part?” Royce scoffs. “Watching ourselves on television, being smothered to death by sponsors and other rich people, or having a private meeting with the president?”

“All of the above,” I sigh, leaning my head on his shoulder. “I just want to go home, work myself to exhaustion, and act like none of this happened.”

“None of it?”

Lifting my head, I meet Royce’s caramel eyes and shake my head, “Alright, maybe not all of it. Just… most of it.”

Royce’s uninjured arm pulls me close around me as he softly asks, “Still nothing on Riven?”

I shake my head against his shoulder and sigh, “As I said, it’ll be like when Mick died. I’ll go home, work myself to exhaustion, and try to act like everything is normal. The only difference is, Riven won’t be there to carry me home this time.”

Silence clings to the air for a moment before Royce chuckles and I ask him what was funny. “I was going to offer to do it in his stead, but I don’t think that would work out so well.”

I lean back in the embrace with a snort, “Yeah, let’s not try it.”

In the districts:

1 - I had a few plans for this that were scrapped as I realized that I wanted to emphasize the fact that Royce and Vivien hadn’t spent any time together since the end of the Games. Most of these little ideas were simple and would’ve been quick snippets Vivien mentions experiencing as time goes by - figure skating in late December, meeting Miles and Bentley, visiting District 6, the Murphy brothers spending a week in District 3 for Vivien’s birthday, them experiencing a wedding for one of Vivien’s work friends (spawning the idea of them sitting and talking about getting married and discussing their traditions), and, finally, the funerals for Riven and Lotus.

Deleted Quotes (all parts, not in order)

(the president at some point in the epilogue) “They say it’s the things we love most that destroy us. However, I like to think of it in a different way. If you are lucky enough to find someone or something to love more than anything, make sure you treasure them.”

(in training, at some point) “Aren’t you like some damsel in distress?” “I’m a damsel. I’m in distress. I can handle this. Have a nice day.”

(Vivien overhears Royce say this to Erica and Jade while she’s recovering in bed after she killed either Lexi or Serena) “She’s not dangerous, she’s traumatized!”

(a deleted scene where the ship is sinking) “If you try to pull me down, I’ll make sure you go with me.”

(Vivien reluctantly admitting her feelings for Royce after trying so hard to fight them) “You make me feel… you make me feel,” she whispered fiercely into the wind, the cool air carrying her words to Royce’s ears, “and I don’t like it. I want it to stop… But, at the same time, I only want more.”

(Serena to the other Careers) “I don’t need people to help me get ahead in life. In already leagues ahead of all of you.”

(in the theatre battle) “Now, which of you wants to die first?”

(I can’t remember where this came from or where it was going, but it’s here) “We’re all the villains in someone’s story. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the villain in mine.”

(during a deleted argument between Riven and Vivien) “Your moral compass is so fucked up that I’ll be surprised if you can find your way back to the library.”

(Vivien, after Riven dies) “My good side died with him, Royce. How do you expect me to bring her back?”

(not sure where this was or who said it, but it was a quote from Markiplier that I heard on TikTok and wanted to incorporate at some point) “What if I didn’t run? What if I’m not a coward? What if I want them to kill me? What if I want them to try?”

(this conversation would have been at the beginning of part 12 and would have been while Vivien was in the medical center) 

“She slit his wrists and was choking him when I found them. If I hadn’t grabbed Riven’s machete, I would’ve been next,” Vivien admits. Royce's grip tightens on her hand and she sends him a small grin. Turning toward Erica and Jade, Vivien breathes, “You didn’t see the look in her eyes.”

Erica shakes her head, “From the very beginning, I didn’t trust Lexi. There was just something about her that set off all the alarms in my head. Looking back on it now, I wonder if she had a list of people she wanted dead.”

Jade takes Erica’s hand and they meet gazes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You trusted her,” Erica sighs. “To be fair, I was still wary of you both until we fought off the Careers, but you trusted us both so I thought I’d get over it as more time went on. I guess I should’ve trusted my instincts.”

(finally, this conversation is in part 12, but this is the original version)

“The way I see it, we’ve got two options.” 

“We do?” 

Royce nods, “Option one, we take the easy way out. It’s quick and painless.” He holds out the berries and sighs, “I’m not a big fan of option one.” 

“Me neither,” Vivien breathes. “Option two?” 

“We fight.” 

“Fight for what?” 

Royce smiles as stares out at the vast ocean surrounding them, “There are a million ways we could’ve died before today and a million ways we could die before tomorrow… but I say we fight. We fight for every second that we get to spend with each other. Whether it’s two minutes or two days… we don’t give that up. I don’t want to give that up. My vote? Let’s just wait it out. You know, we can be all poetic and just live out our lives together on this ship.”

Hesitantly, Vivien mutters, “What’s option three? What’s the option to get us both out of here so we can live in the districts together and grow old together?”

Turning to meet Vivien’s eyes, Royce takes her hand and softly says, “I’m sorry.”

Opening Quotes

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

“Romeo was full of shit and Juliet fell for it, but I am not an idiot.”

“I can make it quick or I can make it so much worse.”

“They should be terrified of you.”

“History repeats itself on an endless loop of meaningless deaths and destruction.”

“If, for some reason, I got a second chance at that moment, I would do it all over again.”

“If I ever were to lose you, I’d surely lose myself.”

“I was supposed to either die with him or survive with him. She didn’t deserve to make that choice for me.”

“Once upon a time, I had somebody that I cared about and, in this world, that sort of shit's good for one thing: getting you killed.”

“Haven’t I given enough?”

“Don’t blame me for what you made me do.”

“A woman’s heart is a deep ocean full of secrets.”

“Don't you do that, don't say your goodbyes. Not yet, do you understand me?”

"I would take a bullet for you just to show my love, only to find out you are the one holding the gun."

“Can you be in denial of your own death?” (You’ll see where this one would’ve been in a minute 😜)

(Epilogue) Perhaps this is the part that changed the most overall and I’m sure you can understand why. So many things changed over the course of the month it took me to write the epilogue. I mean, I went from writing out everything from another person’s perspective to changing my mind after 13 pages - probably the biggest change I’ve ever made to something like this. I had most of the original plot written out on paper and I kept the original 13 pages. Although I know that this is already the longest deleted scene post I've made this far, I figured I would use this spot to let you read through the 13 pages of the original epilogue as well as 2 scenes I felt needed to be written out to make everything fall together nicely. 

Working in District 3 labs, you don’t experience many dangers. The occasional fire, tech malfunction, and, sure, you may have to dodge a stray keyboard or two that has been thrown in a rage by one of your coworkers, but most of that is fairly harmless. The only real threat to a person’s life is when the Hunger Games rolls around with its annual bullshit and that only happens until the Capitol decides you’re too old to be killed off. My last year of reaping was supposed to be easy. I live by myself and work almost every day so I have no need for tessera and have fewer entries and less of a chance of being sent into the arena. Then, the night before the reaping, I get a knock on my door from none other than my lab’s boss, Brady Birch.

He sits with me on the porch for quite some time, telling me about how he and his wife have been worried that the Capitol will take their daughter’s escape from the arena out on someone he knows I care deeply for: Vivien O’Brian. Though they aren’t related by blood, Vivien is like a daughter to Brady and his wife, Mack, and is like a sister to their daughter, Makana. I understand their frustration better than most as I had taken Vivien in like she was my family the day I met her. She walked into our lab as this pipsqueak of a child, scared of the big bad teenagers who towered over her at the time, but that soon dissipated and was replaced with the girl I now call Pip; the headstrong, sarcastic fifteen-year-old who matches my colorful remarks with ones of her own, jab for jab. She handles anything thrown her way with logical ease and grace, though we all seem to have our doubts that she would handle the Hunger Games well. 

Near the end of our conversation, Brady asks if I can think of anyone who would be willing to take the place of whoever is reaped so that Vivien wouldn’t have to compete and, while my answer is affirmative, I doubt he realizes my meaning. He asks that I talk with whoever it is and see if they would be willing, and I say that I will, but once he leaves, I simply stay home, making myself something to eat and waiting out the night. When the reaping comes and Vivien is reaped, nobody volunteers. I find Brady’s eyes in the crowd once the female tribute can no longer be replaced and the look of betrayal in them is strong, but it doesn’t last long. 

Vivien’s younger brother - a kid named Oliver that had come to our lab more than once to bring Vivien the lunch she had forgotten - is reaped as the male tribute and, as I push him toward the stage, I tell him, “Just breathe, kid. I’ll take your place when I can.” He seems a hair less tense, almost as though he doesn’t fully believe my words, but takes to the stage all the same. As promised, I volunteer in his place and watch as a vivid array of emotions flash across Vivien’s face. We listen to the mayor drone on about things nobody cares about anymore before we’re ushered away and split up. I have no biological family to visit me, but my friends from work come by and it feels just like family. Vivien’s family is the next group to stop by and Oliver thanks me repeatedly for filling his spot. Though I know they’ll all be hoping for Vivien’s victory, I make sure to show them that I’m grateful for their visit before they’re pulled away by Peacekeepers.

Once visitation is over, we’re brought to the train station and I make sure to make Vivien laugh for the cameras that await our arrival. Once we’re allowed to explore the train, I spend a while in my room by myself, sorting through the thoughts that have filled my head for the last, well, I don’t even know how long. Death is inevitable for everyone on the planet, however, it also happens to be the one thing I fear most. I suppose it is for Vivien, though. As long as she wins the Hunger Games, I don’t care if I end up dead by the end of it. Of course, I doubt she will want to hear that, but the truth still stands all the same.

It isn’t long before Mack and Brady come to visit me, telling me that they’ll work with the mentors from District 6 to figure out a way to get us out of the arena like they did last year for Mick and her friend. I tell them that I’ll do whatever they need me to for us to get out, but that if their plan fails, I’d be willing to sacrifice myself to help Vivien. They tell me that it wouldn’t be necessary, but I can tell that they both will take it into consideration.

They lead me out to the dining compartment and Vivien joins us after a while. The meal passes quickly and we sit to watch the other reapings. I find the other tributes disappointing, but I make note of what few attributes each of them displays. Most of my time is spent gauging Vivien’s reactions and I can’t help but smirk as she takes a particular interest in the boy from District 6. I’m not exactly surprised when she suggests teaming up with him and shrug off her offer by saying the choice is up to her. After all, I’ve sworn to protect her already, who she chooses to befriend has little to do with me. Vivien, on the other hand, seems perturbed by my nonchalance and corners me in the hallway between our rooms, questioning my behavior. I make the effort to appear as relaxed as possible, even going so far as to flick her concerns away by stating that my actions are just what family does for each other.

I hardly get any sleep that night as I spend most of my time worrying about my surrogate sister in the next room, but the morning comes faster than I anticipated and I find that I wasn’t the only one to suffer through a sleepless night on the train. Vivien’s actions are robotic and she appears to be in a daze as she eats breakfast, only picking up her fork when I lightly kick her shin to remind her. Once Mack decides to end Vivien’s mindless eating, I take her by the hand and bring her with me to the room we watched the other reapings in, bringing an arm around her to show her that I’m there for her if she needs me. I start off the conversation easily, telling her that I know we’re both worried about the Games, but that I’m determined to make sure we both stay alive for as long as possible.

“If it comes down to the two of us as the last tributes standing,” I begin, “I’ll find a way to die so that you won’t kill me.”

For the first time since I began speaking, Vivien’s grip on my hand tightens and she mutters, “If it comes to the two of us, The Capitol will just have to take both of us as the victors, Riv. I’m not going to let you go that easily.”

I try to smile at her comment, but we both must know that the Hunger Games ending with two victors has never happened before and that, after last year, the Gamemakers will make that practically impossible. I’m incapable of telling her anything more as our escort and mentors enter the room, filling us in on all that will happen once we arrive in the Capitol. Vivien clings to my hand until we’re separated in the Remake Center and brought to different rooms. The prep team that I don’t bother paying much attention to, works on me for a few hours, scrubbing me clean of anything they would deem ‘imperfect’ before ditching me so that I have time with my stylist, a rainbow-haired person named Topaz. 

By the time I leave my room, Vivien is standing with the boy from District 6, a smile on her face as the boy tells her something. I watch fondly for a while before being ushered toward the elevator, but I make sure to tease Vivien about her little encounter at the first chance I get. Once we arrive at the giant stables where they keep all of the horses for the parade, I try to keep Vivien distracted with the horses while I scope out the competition, but the results of my efforts seem to be the reverse of my intentions. The girl from District 1 keeps an eye on the two of us while the other Careers chatter about some nonsense nearby and I catch her nod our way before returning her attention to the animal before her. Typically, Careers don’t care much for the people outside of their circle, but this one just might have potential. Time will tell, I suppose.

Thankfully, Vivien finds the large animals just as enthralling as I do and takes to petting them with me, teasing me about the horses in return for my remark in the elevator. However, my response seems to trigger something in her as I say, “I’ve never seen one so well-trained. The ones I’ve seen back home are wild and don’t normally go up to people, but these are so relaxed and well-behaved.”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch Vivien’s emerald eyes dim as she glances between me and the horse, pain flooding her eyes as her eyebrows scrunch together. She takes in a deep breath and fights her emotions down before feeding one of the horses an apple, forcing a smile, and saying, “When we get home, we’ll get you a proper horse.” 

I turn to her and, despite her no longer looking my way, I can tell there are a million thoughts and emotions tugging at her. She doesn’t need me to tell her that only one of us will be making it home. She doesn’t need me to tell her to be realistic and focus on what could possibly happen. She needs me to be there for her, even if that means allowing her to live in her fantasy world for at least a moment. So, with a sigh, I bring an arm around Vivien’s shoulders and pull her to me, resting my head on hers before telling her, “We’ll get two horses.” I can almost feel the confusion radiating from her as she slowly allows her head to rest against my chest. “One for you and one for me. They’ll have plenty of space to run around in Victor’s Village.”

The smile she gives me lets me know that I made the right choice and I press a kiss to her forehead before squeezing her to my side once more and letting her go. The boy from 6 makes an appearance once again and the three of us converse until it’s time to get into the chariots. A smirk appears on my face as I bring out the teasing older brother act, making sure there is a smile on Vivien’s face before our chariots begin to move into the city. Our stylists turn on our glowing outfits and I have to laugh as Vivien’s hair lights up like one of the computers back home, a luminous rainbow of colors that fits her personality all too well. Vivien catches a glimpse of herself in the reflective plastic I’ve been made to wear just as the chariot begins to move and I’m quick to latch onto her so that she doesn’t fall as we’re brought throughout the city.

I try not to let my true feelings about the Games show as we’re shown off to all of the Capitol’s wealthiest sponsors, the urge to scream to the rooftops about everything is covered behind a smile as I raise the hand I’ve latched with Vivien into the air. Before I know it, we’re being brought into the Training Center and the horses come to a stop. The adrenaline in my veins wears off quickly as the glowing brunette beside me collides with the floor of the chariot. Vivien rattles off some quick excuse that, for her sake, I allow as I help her to her feet, bringing an arm around her to keep her steady as we board the elevator and ride up to our floor. She leans against me in a hug as we rise high above the Capitol and, once we arrive on our floor, I bring my arms around her, lift her off of the ground, and chant our district number in the hopes that it will relieve some of the tension she’s under.

Once we’re changed out of our parade costumes and free of the Capitol’s signature glitter and glamour, I meet up with Vivien in the hallway between our rooms and we head to the dining room together. Our brainless escort comes in before the meal is served, shrieking about losing the tributes before realizing that we’re sitting at the table with our mentors, waiting for the food to arrive. After the meal is done, we’re made to watch the parade and a sense of pride floods my veins as the commentators and spectators alike shower us in praises we don’t deserve. The recap ends and I invite Vivien to the rooftop before ducking into my room to change into something warmer. Before I can make my way to the door, our escort tells me that I should get some sleep before training and I tell her I need some fresh air, which she accepts and soon disappears into her room. I make my way to the rooftop only to find Vivien and the boy from District 6 throwing something at the forcefield around the building and catching it in their mouths while laughing and talking about things I can’t hear over the wind. 

With a smile, I disappear back inside the building and bump into a small blonde girl who eyes me curiously. We stand on the landing, watching each other in silence almost as though we’re investigating the other person. Then, with a direct, matter-of-fact tone, the girl says, “You’re the big guy from Three, right? Riven?”

I’ve seen this child before and I know that I have, but it’s hard to picture where. Of all of the people I saw in the other reapings and the parade, I know she isn’t a tribute and she’s certainly too comfortably dressed to be a Capitol escort, narrowing down the options to one. She must be a mentor of some sort. “I am,” I reply. 

She looks me up and down before holding a hand out for me to shake and saying, “I’m Kona, District Six. My tribute likes your friend.”

This must be the mentor girl who won last year. “Are you talking about Vivien?” I ask, latching onto her hand and shaking it before letting it drop.

Kona nods, rolling her eyes, “That’s all Royce has talked about since we watched the reapings on the train.”

A chuckle escapes me before I can even think of stopping it, “I could say the same about Viv.”

Mischief gleams in the girl’s pale eyes as she smirks, “Does she know he likes her?”

“Does he know that she likes him?” I offer in response.

Kona’s smile spreads as she asks, “Are they on the roof?”

I give her a nod and watch her pass me on her way up the next flight of stairs before calling out to her, “Do you always meddle in people’s personal lives?”

Kona peers over the metal bar with a smile and proudly claims, “I only meddle when I’m right and, so far, I’ve always been right.”

With a shrug and a shake of my head, I sigh, “Well, good luck, then.”

“Thanks!” she chirps before bounding her way up to the rooftop.

It’s a while before I hear Vivien arriving back in our apartment, but she doesn’t question my lack of appearance until the next morning before training. Until training begins, I stand near Royce and Vivien, sending glares at anyone who so much as glances their way. Royce asks me if I’d be willing to form an alliance with him, which I do, and Vivien sends me a glare when I bring up how much she spoke about Royce that morning before I allow them to go off and do as they please. Our first day of training is spent separated and, while I do keep an eye on the younger pair, I mostly keep to myself. My alone time is interrupted by the girls from Districts 1 and 7, who I later find out are named Jade and Lexi. Jade’s emerald hair glitters in the fluorescent lights above us while the other girl’s curls have been pulled back into a makeshift bun.

They aren’t speaking directly to me, but I’m close enough to hear their conversation as the curly-haired one claims that she would be dead soon anyway. When the green-haired girl asks her what she means, Lexi replies with, “You can’t tell anyone, but I have this medical issue that I can’t afford the treatment for. I’ll be dead within a year, if that. Winning the Hunger Games isn’t going to do me much good.”

Jade takes a breath and says, “Well, why don’t you join us, then? We can get you far in the Games so that it doesn’t hurt your friends or family back home and you can still go out when you feel the time is right.”

Lexi takes in a slow, deep breath and sighs, “Can I at least have until lunch to think on it?”

“Of course, take all the time you need,” Jade says. “You’ll know where to find me.” 

As Jade scurries off and leaves Lexi alone to throw axes at training dummies, I leave the area to get a better view of Vivien and Royce at a different station. Lunch comes and I find that the curly-haired Lexi has joined Jade and a blue-haired girl at their lunch table. If the three of them have formed a group outside of the Careers as I have with Vivien and Royce, that could make them more dangerous. Especially if you take into consideration that one of them is ready to die anyway. Still, when they approach us on the roof that night, I can’t help but feel overprotective of my little group, pulling them away from the girls until we get the chance to think over their proposition of another alliance.

Once we return to our apartment for the night, I speak with our mentors about the situation and they talk me through how they see things working out. In the end, they advise me that an alliance with them could be beneficial, but to be wary of them just in case something happens between the girls and their rage turns on us. The conversation switches on a dime as Vivien joins us and, once she retires for the night, they bring up the idea of getting us out of the arena safely, telling me what they did the year before to help their daughter and her friend from District 6 out. They give me the idea of finding a way to drain our trackers, giving the Capitol the impression that we had died, but tell me that, if that doesn’t work, cutting out our trackers might be the only option we have of making it out as a trio. By the end of the conversation, I’m fighting to keep my hands from shaking and they tell me that it’s only a suggestion if it comes down to the three of us, but that it most likely won’t be necessary. After talking me down from my mild panic, they shoo me off to bed and tell me to try to get as much rest as possible. The next morning, Vivien asks them about the girls and what to do about them and they tell her something similar to what they had told me, which we relay to Royce once we arrive in the training rooms. Once the girls arrive, we tell them that we accept their offer and they seem genuinely pleased with the idea.

The three of us train together at first before splitting off to impress the Gamemakers, but I use my free time to get to know our new allies. The first person on my list is the one who has already admitted defeat - Lexi. Our conversation is short, but I glean a lot from it. When I press her about the disease she claims to have, she admits it and claims that she wants to go down on her own terms. I tell her that, if I can think of a way to help her in the arena, I will, and she thanks me for it, but dismisses me fairly quickly before walking off. Erica is next and, while she is very energetic and loud about her interest in the weapons available to us, she mostly talks of her interest in Jade, the girl from District 1. Her eyes are glued to the green-haired girl and she takes little interest in my conversation, but comments that she’s glad to be on our side all the same. Jade is every bit the ringleader of the group; direct, calm, and organized. She’s thorough in everything she does and never misses a single target when I join her at the archery station. Whilst even I will admit she is deadly, she has a calm, collected manner about her that gives me the impression she couldn’t be bothered to care much about the Hunger Games at all.

That night, we join District 6 on the rooftop for a while and I spend some of my time talking with Vivien, reassuring her that, regardless of what she does in her private session with the Gamemakers, she’ll be fine. Eventually, the girl I met on the stairs tells me that Mack wants to see me, and I leave Vivien in her care as I make my way over to where my mentors and Vivien’s stylist are standing. Before I can say a word, the blonde girl holds out a hand and introduces herself as Juliet, Vivien’s stylist and the president’s daughter. The three of them bring me away from the others enough that they wouldn’t be able to hear our conversation before Brady hands us each a small container. Inside is a simple, black watch with two dials - one red and one blue - on one side and a small, almost unnoticeable hole on the other.

“A watch?” I wonder aloud.

“Why a watch?” Juliet asks.

Mack smiles, “We’ve talked about ways to help these three get out of the arena, right?”

Juliet nods and I have to wonder why the president’s daughter would be willing to help a few tributes escape. She sighs, “If getting them out of the arena will help push my dad to stop the Hunger Games altogether, I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

As though he’s answering my unasked question, Brady explains, “Last year, Juliet’s tribute and boyfriend, Xander, was killed in the arena, furthering her interest in ending the Games.”

Juliet gives a sharp nod and says, “When I reached out to Carrie, she suggested I take District Three this year so that our districts could work together to end this nonsense.”

“So these will help us get out of the arena?” I ask, holding up my watch. My mentors nod. “How?”

They explain how the watch works as a communication device. The red and blue dials work as a transmitter and receiver respectively, allowing us to talk with each other while I’m in the arena. Juliet’s watch fits more with her Capitol style, a simple, silver and crimson watch so small I wonder if she can even read the time on it, but it suits her all the same. As long as Juliet can give me updates from the outside and I can send her messages asking for specific things in the arena, it doesn’t matter. Mack explains that she and Brady won’t be able to use them as there will be a lot of eyes on them, but since Juliet is a stylist, she won’t have to worry as much. We test them out briefly when Juliet brings Mack to the edge of the roof to show her the mansion she grew up in and Brady seems to puff up proudly as we prove that his invention works. Once they return, Brady explains that they work like a walkie-talkie, only allowing us to hear each other when we press the blue dial. Mack explains that, while I’m in the arena, it might be a good idea to share the watch with Vivien or Royce during their turns to keep watch if I want to avoid suspicion and I have to agree. When Juliet questions why we shouldn’t tell the kids about the watch being a communication device, Brady explains that, when we escape the arena, we will most likely be taken out by a hovercraft and brought back to the Capitol, meaning that we would be questioned by the people in charge and they need our reactions to be as genuine as possible.

I spend most of the rest of my evening speaking with Juliet, trying to come up with a plan for the Games. She explains that she has the ability to come and go from the president’s mansion as she pleases, collecting information from right under their noses. I have to give Juliet credit, she’s smarter than she looks. She explains that, if I can get the three of us through the bloodbath and close to the top ten, making it out of the arena will be easy, but that, if we make it too close to the end, things will only be more complicated. If we’re close to the end, the cameras will be on us all hours of the day, making it nearly impossible for us to find a way to drain our trackers or cut them out without someone else there to take the fall and cut them out for us. An idea forms as I lie in bed that night and I wonder if I could entrust one of the other tributes to do the deed if it comes down to it. There’s only one person I could think of who would be willing to put their life on the line for us, but I would have to wait until training to ask.

In the morning, I make my way toward the dining room only to find that Vivien is nowhere to be found. Assuming she must still be in her room, I find myself at her door, knocking before simply entering and sitting by her side as she stares up at the ceiling. Her face lacks its normal color and her irises are rimmed with red, making me wonder if she had been crying. Taking a deep breath, her gaze turns to me and she softly claims, “It’s a cruise ship.”

My eyebrow raises and I have to ask, “What is?”

“The arena,” she whispers, swallowing thickly before adding, “It’s going to be a cruise ship.”

When I ask her how she knows, her answer is simple - her stylist. It makes sense that her stylist would know given she is the president’s daughter, but I can’t see how that would make Vivien upset. Maybe the anxiety of the day kept her awake. She is the type to overthink everything while I try to keep things simple. I could understand her fears winning over. Trying to keep her in a good state of mind, I nod and offer, “I guess it’s a good thing we swim in the lake back home.”

Vivien hums and I try to suggest breakfast, but she declines as the impending dread of our private sessions and the Hunger Games themselves loom over our heads. Eventually, I manage to coax her into eating something before training and, while her plate of scrambled eggs and toast isn’t much compared to her usual platefuls of everything on the table, I’m at least grateful she has something in her system. Her trembling hand finds a home in mine until we begin the morning training session and she glues herself to Royce while I work on conversing with my target for the morning - Lexi Warren. I manage to corner her by the axe-throwing station and, for once, she doesn’t seem bothered by my presence.

“So, let me get this straight,” she begins quietly, readying another axe to be thrown, “You want me to help you, Vivien, and that other boy out of the arena if we make it close to the end of the Games?” I nod and she scoffs a laugh, shaking her head as she reels back her arm, “What makes you think I’d do such a thing?”

“I see the way you look at her.” For the first time since I stepped up to the station, Lexi’s weapon lodges in the wall beside her target, missing its intended mark as she freezes. Opposingly, my axe wedges deep into the center of the target as I choose to continue, “You watch her during lunch, you never stray too far from whatever station she’s at, and for some reason, you managed to convince the other girls to trust us, trust her. Whether you notice it or not, you want Vivien alive as much as I do, but for a completely different reason.”

Lexi’s eyes flit between our targets as the information settles in before taking in a sharp breath and calmly asking, “And if I choose to only save her in that scenario?”

A smirk settles on my face, but I force it away as I state, “She would never forgive you. I helped her through the loss of her sister last year and assumed the role of her older brother during that time. On top of that, I know I’m not the only one who can see how she looks at Royce. If you were to cut out her tracker and become the victor, leaving the two of us to die in the arena, she would be out for your blood.”

Lexi’s gaze turns to me and I feel her examine my expression before slowly turning her gaze to where Royce and Vivien have begun shooting arrows at targets. I follow her gaze and watch as Vivien adjusts Royce’s hold on his weapon before allowing him to shoot and, as the arrow drives deep into the bull’s eye, we watch as she excitedly bounces, cheering Royce on as he beams at her. From the corner of my eye, I watch as Lexi’s shoulders sink and a reluctant grin crosses her features. “Just cut out the trackers and wait for the cannons?”

I give a sharp nod, “That’s it.”

With a hum, Lexi nods, “Alright. Just tell me when.”

She doesn’t give me the chance to respond as she moves away from her favorite station and joins Erica at the ropes course. Lexi’s quick agreement gives me pause, but I try to accept it as an honest statement for the time being. Almost hesitantly, I cross the room and spend the rest of my morning following Vivien and Royce around to different stations, helping them when they ask for it, and learning which skills they particularly excel at before lunch is called and we’re told where to sit. Vivien’s grip on my hand is unrelenting, though I don’t voice my discomfort as she scans the room, sparing glimpses of Royce when she finds the chance. More than once, I find Lexi’s eyes on Vivien and she meets my gaze, giving me a small, barely noticeable nod before turning away. All too soon, I’m summoned from the room and I have to give Vivien a smile of reassurance before she allows me to take my hand back from her grasp.

Mack and Brady instructed me to think like a Career for my private sessions so that I'll be scored high enough to gain some favor, but I doubt my performance is what they had in mind. As soon as I’m allowed to, I throw weights around, slice open training dummies, and show off the skills I’ve worked on the hardest over the last few days to get the Gamemakers’ attention. Then, once I have it, I make a statement that’s all my own. A statement of revenge that they’ll have to work hard to cover. The camouflage station is my last stop and I take what bloody, berry juice they’ve left out to write my message on the concrete floor, claiming my performance in the arena will be for Mick and Miles, mine and Vivien’s friend and Royce’s brother. The Gamemakers must know that my friendship with Royce is strong enough for me to include the name of someone who isn’t from my district and they practically rush me out of the room, hastily thanking me for my time before ordering some Avoxes to clean the mess I’ve made. It isn’t until Vivien comes back upstairs that I find out they simply covered my mess with a sparring mat.

Vivien regales us with her tale of impaling the Gamemakers’ wine bottle, which seems to surprise our mentors, but they explain that the only thing the Gamemakers can do to her now is make her time in the arena more difficult. I don’t doubt that they’ll try to make things harder for Vivien, but with me - and presumably Royce - by her side, it would be immensely difficult for them to target her on her own. After a while, we’re told to wash up before dinner and I change into something more comfortable before returning to the living room to talk with my mentors. When I bring up the topic of getting Lexi to cut the trackers out if we need her to, they seem hesitant, but come to accept that as an option if we require it. By the time the stylists arrive, it’s nearly time for our scores to be revealed, so Juliet saunters off down the hall to fetch Vivien while Mack and Brady tell me to entrust my watch to my stylist, Topaz. My hesitance to do so is met with a short explanation that Topaz was Mick’s stylist in her Games and was someone I could trust to keep care of the watch until we were in the catacombs. Eventually, I pull the watch from my hoodie and pass it over before Vivien comes out and the food is served.

Once the food is done, we gather on the couch in the living area and wait for our scores to be announced. Each of the tributes receives a long-winded spiel about them before their scores are announced and, for the first time in a long time, three of the first four Careers end up with meager scores compared to normal years. By the time my spot on the screen arrives, my leg is bouncing and the rising panic I’d been trying so desperately to shove aside makes itself present. Vivien takes my hand in hers and, as my score is revealed, she brings me into a tight squeeze that eases the tension from me. Her score of nine is just one point below mine and, although we’re all very excited about it, I notice Vivien taking a moment away from the excitement to watch Royce’s identical score flash across the screen. 

We bring the party up to the roof after everything is over and District 6 joins us after a while. Royce and Vivien are soon by each other’s side and I join them in case Vivien needs a quick escape from her own, babbled words. As the stylists join our little trio, I notice every glance Vivien and Royce take, watching the other with soft smiles the other will never know existed. Celebratory drinks are handed out and, once I start a roof-wide chant of our district numbers, I make my way behind the two lovebirds and make them hold hands before raising them into the air. The rest of the time we spend on the roof, Vivien is latched to Royce’s side and vice versa, but there’s a shimmer of something in her eyes when Royce has to leave that makes me wonder if she’s come to terms with her feelings for him. On the way back to our floor, I tease her about the situation so that nobody can hear and take joy in watching her face burn a shade of tomato. I duck off to my room to evade Vivien’s ire and wait until morning to ask her about how things went with Royce.

In the morning, I find Vivien still fast asleep and ask her how she slept once I’ve woken her. My intention of teasing her some more evaporates as she pleads for me not to before she has to spend the rest of the day with Royce, acting as though they’re both in love. Though I can see that Royce cares for Vivien the same way she cares for him, I don’t push the topic any further and we eventually settle next to each other. She relaxes against the headboard of her bed and I wonder how she could be so relaxed with everything else going on around us. With the Hunger Games looming just ahead of us and the weight of everything I know resting on my shoulders, I can’t bring myself to the same state of calm that Vivien can. If she knew what I was planning, if she knew how much weighed on our every move in the arena and how many eyes would be on us for the rest of our lives once we got out, would she be so trusting? Would her trust in me go out the window? Would she still come to me for help or for comfort the way she has in the past?

My usual confidence is long gone and, as I spare a glimpse of Vivien’s relaxed grin, I ask, “You know I care about you, right, Pip?”

“Of course, Riv.” Vivien’s gentle smile and how quickly she responds feel like a punch to the gut. Her trust in me is so strong; will it still be that way once everything is said and done? “You know I care about you too, right?”

Wrapping my mind around her question is easy as I knew the answer long before she asked. “I do.” A sighed chuckle falls from me as I shake my head slightly and add, “Far more than I deserve most of the time.”

Vivien is quick to shake her head, an adamant tone in her voice as she presses, “That’s not true. We’re family and family loves without it needing to be earned or deserved.”

Her confusion is evident underneath the stubborn smile that never seems to disappear and I feel a small grin tug at my lips as I breathe, “Good.”

Although Vivien’s confusion takes over, she leans her head against my shoulder and softly asks, “What brought that on?”

I rest my head against hers and try to relax against the headboard as I squeeze the hand she’s tucked into mine, “Just making sure.”

Our moment of peace is broken as our day begins and Vivien leaves to take a shower while I find my way to the dining room where our mentors are talking. When I join them, they fill me in on how many sponsors have already spoken to them about wanting to help us. They claim that, after last year, people want to help the previously reaped tributes win this year and that, with all the money we should get, they should have no problem sending us gifts when we ask for them. When Juliet joins the conversation, the talk becomes more serious and we discuss the plan of getting us out of the arena and what will happen once we’re out.

Juliet claims that all dead tributes are brought back to the Training Center to be cleaned, get their tracker removed, and be made to look good until the Games end. After the tribute looks alright, the mentors of the tribute will be sent in to make confirmation that the tribute is the same one they sent into the arena so that the families can’t argue that the body isn’t that of their relative. Once the arena is free of tributes and the victor leaves the Capitol, they’ll send the bodies to their home districts so their families can bury whatever is left of them. Juliet claims that our best chance of getting us out of there is either when everyone’s focus is on the victor once they return to the Capitol or when we’re on the train back home. If we’re out of the Capitol, they can’t take us back. Mack and Brady make the plan sound effortless when they lay it out in three simple steps - fake our deaths in the arena, wait out the train ride home, and arrive in District 3 as free tributes - however, it feels like anything but. I guess, on their side of things, the plan is simple, but Vivien, Royce, and I still have a lot to do. We still have to endure the interviews, survive the bloodbath, and avoid being killed by the other tributes.

The conversation dies down once Vivien joins us for breakfast and, once we’re done eating, Juliet pulls Vivien back to her room to try on some clothes for their practice interviews. I wait with the others for the group from District 6 to arrive and listen to them jabber about sponsors and things I can’t bring myself to care about, but once Royce and his group arrive, I break off from the group and find my way to Juliet’s room. Inside, Vivien has been shoved into a dress I can tell she wants to rid herself of while her stylist looks on from her spot on the bed. In an effort to lighten the mood, I lean against the door frame and chuckle, “You look like one of those cake toppers at that ritzy bakery in Pixel Square.”

Vivien flips me off and calls me the nickname she chose long ago, but when I tell her that Royce has arrived, I see panic flood her eyes. Her stylist brushes me off and tells me to have fun, but my focus is on Vivien who I can tell is trying to force herself to calm down. Eventually, she finds my gaze and I send her a small, encouraging smile before leaving the room and telling Royce where to find them. His stylist, Carrie, moves past him with her arms loaded down with items she thinks they’ll need for the day, eager to find her friend while Royce simply shakes his head and trails behind her. Once they’re behind closed doors, I’m brought to Topaz’s room and made to try on a sample of my interview outfit before being allowed back into more comfortable clothing. My interview training begins once I’m back in the living room with the three mentors, but it doesn’t last long as the four mentors decide that, as long as I relax and let my answers come naturally, I should be fine. My natural protectiveness over Vivien and, by extension, Royce will serve me well in front of the Capitol and the ease I have speaking with the others makes it feel as though the interviews will go well, but I have a hard time holding my tongue when it comes to quick remarks or snarky comments about the Capitol.

We spend the rest of our time explaining the plan to Royce’s mentor, Butchy, who seems to take to it easily. His advice is simple: watch for cameras, draw attention to the other tributes, and, if necessary, find an alternative route to victory. He theorizes that, if we play our cards right and make it to the final three left alive, they could use Juliet and Carrie’s popularity to convince the Capitol citizens to want to call off the Games, effectively cutting it short and letting us out without the need for us to worry about the trackers. While the thought is nice, the idea of leaving the arena before it gets that far is much more appealing. In my opinion, the sooner we're out of the arena, the better, but I still take his idea into consideration all the same. 

The others join us for lunch after a while and, once the stylists leave to tailor our interview outfits, we’re asked about things we could use in the arena and we fill the others in on the fact that the arena will be a cruise ship. After a while, the stylists return and drag us off to have our clothes altered while Royce and his team leave and, by the time we find ourselves around the table again, exhaustion has set in. I retire to my room early and allow sleep to carry me into the next day. The day breezes by so quickly I have a hard time registering half of what’s happening around me, but I’m eventually dressed in an emerald suit, placed in front of a mirror, and praised by the prep team and stylists before being brought to the living room to wait for Vivien.

Vivien’s entrance is like something out of a Capitol-made movie and I have to wonder if she feels comfortable in her emerald gown. She looks scared and I can’t blame her; I am too. We both don’t do well in front of others like this as both of us have a hard time keeping our mouths shut. If we say or do something the Capitol audience doesn’t like, we could very well sign our death warrants. Vivien’s eyes find me fairly quickly and I watch her smile broaden as she scans my suit. We match and, although I can tell she likes it just as much as I do, the mirth in her gaze is hard to miss. I feel the need to comment on her clothing, giving a teasing, “Look what someone scrubbed off the shower wall.” 

Her taunt of, “Says the walking green bean,” is said with a beaming smile as I pull her close, allowing her some sort of refuge from the chaos we’re about to endure. We ride down to the waiting area and Mick’s parents give us hugs of encouragement before leaving us there. We’re met by the girls we chose to team up with and they give us some advice about the pair from District 5 and the Careers before leaving to line up with the others.

Sadly, that’s all I had written out for the epilogue, but I do have two extra scenes for later on in the epilogue that I worked on to fill things out a bit more and get them out of my head haha.

1 - Riven’s first + second-ish days in the arena

With Topaz’s advice in mind, I keep my eyes closed until my podium latches into place, allowing my eyes to adjust fairly quickly to the light that burns from above. The heat is unlike anything we get back in District 3, but I try to push away the wave of heat that washes over me as I take in my surroundings. Vivien is close to the mouth of the Cornucopia - that’s good. If she can grab some supplies and make a run for it, she can get to safety faster than most of the other tributes. The countdown begins as I find that Royce isn’t far from Vivien, standing just four podiums away. If he can run, he should. Take something and run, let Vivien do the rest. She’s close to the Cornucopia and I know she’s fast, she can take something bigger and run, meeting with me and Royce someplace else. Vivien glances my way and directs her gaze toward a set of backpacks I just barely make out through the rolling waves of heat. One is accented with red and the other with green. If what Juliet told me the other day is true, she’ll have medical supplies and some kind of tech with her. I give her the smallest nod I can manage and watch as her gaze settles on the packs once more. She’ll be running for them, no doubt.

Royce looks worried, but has his gaze focused on something near the mouth of the Cornucopia. From what I can see, it’s either a rolled-up black bag or a small, silver backpack. Silver is good. Silver is enough food to last someone a few days if they use it sparingly. He could do well with that. Black is, typically, something for small weapons - knives, multi-tools, throwing stars, and things of that nature. If Royce can grab both of those and run, he’ll be fine. Looking around, I find a large, tightly packed, purple-striped bag that I know must contain some sort of luxury item. Whatever it is, it must be huge if it fills the bag so much that it appears as though the zippers will burst open at the slightest touch. In case the bag chooses to explode, I look around and spot a lighter, yellow bag near a set of stairs on my right that I can grab if I want to get out of the area as soon as possible. Yellow is a wild card, if Juliet is right. It could be something useful like food or water or it could be something completely useless like an empty pouch or a pair of socks. Either way, I could take it and run if everything goes well.

The cannon blast echoes through the arena, signaling the beginning of the Games, and I launch into a sprint, grabbing the purple bag on my way through the fray. The asshole from District 1 swings a nearby sword in my direction, but I roll under it and kick his legs out from under him. As he falls, I catch a glimpse of Vivien colliding with the ground, but as I stand to run toward her, someone slams into me from behind and I turn to see Jade holding a backpack as a shield in front of her, her back facing me. The blade lodged into the bag is a clear sign that she’s protected me and the nod we share cements the idea of our alliance. Turning toward the stairwell once more, I run for them, grabbing a machete and yellow backpack from near the bloodied body of the boy from District 4 along the way. The inside of the stairwell is lined with bloody footprints that I hope don’t belong to either of the kids in my care as I follow them two decks down. There, the prints split off - one heading further into the ship and another set heading outside through a large metal door. One set of footprints must lead to Vivien, but which one? I don’t bother trying to spend much time thinking and decide to descend further into the ship, taking the steps as far down as they allow before finding my way inside. 

The first room I investigate on the floor I arrive on has the word “casino” on the wall in large letters and I quickly find that I’m not the only person in the area. The girl from District 8 - I discover from Royce later on that her name is Jeyveera - shrieks at my intrusion and swings wildly at me with her backpack. Using her momentum against her, I take a step back and watch the bag pull her toward the floor in a heap. She’s injured already, most likely gaining the slash in her abdomen from the bloodbath. Although she’s trying desperately to fend me off, I can see in her eyes that she just wants to run. Her fight isn’t with me, it’s with staying alive. Peering up at me from the floor, Jeyveera shakes her head and looks away.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asks.

“No,” I reply. “But you should probably move. The further you are from the stairwell, the better.”

“I’ll bleed to death,” she scoffs.

“Maybe, but it shows you’re still trying to fight.”

Lifting her gaze from the floor, I find her dark, almost black eyes filled with a hint of determination. She nods and, with a hand pressed firmly to the steadily leaking gash in her side, rises from the floor, taking her backpack and inching her way toward the door I’d entered through. I don’t spend much longer in the casino and find my way to another set of stairs and find a layout of the ship on a map. Scanning over the map is easy and I try to take note of where things are before I continue onward. The sky outside darkens as I make my way to a place called The Two Whales - a restaurant on the far end of the ship. I barricade myself in the kitchen in the back of the restaurant, snagging cans of vegetables after making sure that nobody could come in from any point in the room. I have no way of knowing who is alive or where the others are, but I know I’m safe in my kitchen, surrounded by weapons that are typically used for cooking. 

Rifling through my backpacks rewards me kindly and I find myself with a sleeping bag, a portable grill, and some thick packages of meat. I set up camp inside a series of cabinets that have no walls to separate them and stay up only long enough to see the flashes of tributes' faces in the sky. Once I’m sure that none of my allies have been killed off, I make myself comfortable and try to get some sleep. To my dismay, sleep doesn’t come easily as I still worry about Vivien and Royce. They’re still somewhere on the ship, wandering around or hunkered down in a location I have yet to explore. When I turn onto my side after some hours of trying to find some semblance of peace, my arm shoved under my head as a pillow, I finally get some kind of answer.

“They’re safe,” a voice whispers from my watch. The voice is barely audible, but I don’t have to guess who it is. Juliet’s Capitol accent is thick, but her words are comforting all the same. “They’re separated, but they’re safe. Just try to sleep. The sun will rise soon if the Gamemakers are following the time right now.”

Eventually, my eyes close and, when I finally open them again, I can see the faintest hint of the sun between the cracks of the cabinet doors. Gathering all of my belongings, I decide to continue with the plan Royce, Vivien, and I made before the Games started. I deposit my belongings in a stateroom on Deck 12 and begin my trek up to the Cornucopia with an empty backpack and the machete I snagged from the bloodbath.

2 - The aftermath of Riven’s “death” + his time in the Capitol

The feeling of being limply lifted from the deck into the hovercraft is surreal. I’ve seen it time and time again over the years on television, but living it is something else. From under my eyelashes, I can just barely see that the hovercraft is filled with people in white coats and a pair of Peacekeepers, but the white-coated doctors are instructed to leave by a simple wave of the Peacekeeper's hand after they haul me and Lexi’s dead body onto separate gurneys. Once everyone else has left the room and the door slides into place, the Peacekeepers reach up to their helmets and remove them, revealing Juliet and her friend, Carrie - the stylist in charge of Royce’s outfits. 

Carrie looks around before nodding to Juliet, “We’re clear.”

I close my eyes as Juliet reaches for my bloodied arm and swipes a nearby towel across it, cleaning it of blood before pressing a gloved hand to the skin. She feels around for a while as blood begins to pool around the open wound again and I hear her whisper, “It’s gone.”

“The tracker is gone?” Carrie questions softly. I hear Juliet hum in agreement. “Then shouldn’t that mean he’s alive?”

“He is,” Juliet whispers. “I can feel his pulse.”

Opening my eyes, I find Juliet and Carrie above me, examining my face so closely that I have to wonder what they were going to do to make me reveal that I was conscious. Instead of following through with whatever devious plans they’d concocted, I watch as their faces split into brilliant, pearly smiles. Giving them a smile of my own, I greet them, “Well, hello to you too.”

Juliet gives me a hug and they both congratulate me before deciding to follow through with whatever protocol they have to do as fake Peacekeepers. Lexi’s body is pulled into a room to one side and I’m brought to another. They leave me alone for a moment, pulling their helmets back into place before leaving the room and, when they return, they bring a single doctor to clean my wounds. My arm is sewn back together with clear threads and, before the doctor leaves, Juliet slips them something I have to assume is a thick fold of money intended to keep them quiet. The two of them question me briefly in private before reassuring me that they’ll make sure to keep an eye on Vivien and Royce for me while I wait for the Games to end. When the hovercraft lands atop the Training Center, Carrie leaves the room to bring Lexi’s body inside and I’m instructed by Juliet to keep as still as possible until she tells me otherwise. When I nod, she smiles and slides her Peacekeeper helmet into place once again before taking hold of my gurney and guiding it to an elevator. The ride down to the medical suite is quiet and, upon our arrival, Juliet brings a pouch out of her uniform and sets it into some man’s hand before telling him to do what he can to clean me up before instructing him to leave us alone.

For the remainder of the Hunger Games, I’m kept in the apartment Juliet and Carrie share. The room I’m given is an offensive shade of pink and the curtains remain closed at all times, however, the television mounted on the wall allows me to keep an eye on what’s happening in the arena, so I don’t complain. Vivien’s reaction to my death is gut-wrenching and I want nothing more than to reach through the screen and comfort her myself, but Royce does a good job at being there for her, never leaving her side. The two stay together until the end of the Hunger Games, eventually tempting fate by drinking a wine that they mixed with nightlock berries and securing them both a victory.

I’m forced to move into the president’s mansion after he discovers that Juliet and Carrie had been aiding and abetting me. It doesn’t surprise me nearly as much that he figured things out, but it takes me a while to adjust to seeing the man every day. On my first day in the mansion, I’m escorted by a flock of Peacekeepers to a large, circular room that I later find out is his meeting room. He sits me down and slides a book into my hands, telling me that he wishes for Vivien and Royce to solve a little puzzle for him in order to secure my safety and that he hopes they’ll have it solved by the end of the Victory Tour. When I tell him that it will be easy and that they’ll solve anything he throws their way, he smiles, but it isn’t nearly as sadistic as I thought it would be. Instead, he looks pleased with my answer; almost as though he’d come to that same conclusion already and simply wanted to hear me confirm it. That night, I lie awake wondering if I made the right decision in telling him how confident I was. 

Thankfully, the room I’m housed in inside the president’s mansion actually feels like a home, not some bubblegum pink, retina-burning eyesore. The warm lighting, comfortable furniture, and occasional visits from Juliet and Carrie make me feel somewhat relaxed as I spend every day within the same set of walls. Then, when the Victory Banquet comes around, I am forced to watch from afar as Vivien and Royce are escorted around in a daze. More than once, I wish for one of them to simply look up at the balcony on which I’m perched and catch my gaze, but neither of them does. Instead, as they’re guided toward the door, one of the peacekeepers takes my arm and leads me back to my room through winding hallways I would have easily gotten lost in. From my room, I watch as their car pulls away from the mansion and I feel an ache in my chest as they disappear into the crowded Capitol streets.

The first few weeks I spend in the mansion, I spend reading the book the president claims will hold the key to my release. At first, I don’t see the puzzle he wants Vviien and Royce to find, but I figure it out in time. I am escorted by Peacekeeper guards to dinner in the almost oddly small dining room I’ve had to eat every meal in with the president himself. It’s there that I question him on the book, asking if I’d solved his puzzle. With a smile, he tells me that I have and that he hopes my friends have done the same. As the days go on, the guards that guide me from one room to another shift from being in full, Peacekeeper regalia to standing around in comfortable-looking, Capitol clothing and simply waving to me as I pass on the almost familiar path to the dining room. Most nights, I sit around the small, square table with Juliet on my right and her father to my left. Every meal, I am treated as though I am nothing more than a guest despite being a prisoner of some sort.

Although Juliet doesn’t live full-time with her father in the mansion, she seems particularly upset with the idea of me being kept on the premises, confiding in me that she wishes I could return home. I’ve overheard her pleading with her father to let me go more than once, but to no avail. Instead, she makes it a point to call Vivien’s house while I am with her, letting me listen to Vivien ramble on to the blonde about her daily life and some of the difficulties she’s faced in recent times. Eventually, the calls fade from a few hours to maybe a half-hour, if we’re lucky. In every call, I can hear the pain and feigned happiness in Vivien’s voice with every word, only serving to drive the knife further into my chest. Despite my desire to say something or make a noise in the background to show her that I’m there and can hear her, Juliet reminds me that her father made me promise to let them solve the puzzle themselves and I force myself to remain silent. The president could easily have one of his guards kill me or have his kitchen staff poison my food - I don’t wish to end up actually dead.

At the end of the third month, I’m given some freedom. I’m allowed to wander the grounds unattended and, more than once, Carrie and Juliet invite me to their apartment for dinner. Of course, to keep my anonymity, they dress me in some of the latest trends and keep me in disguise until I’m back inside the mansion, but getting outside and being able to feel some semblance of freedom is nice. As time goes by, I hardly even care about the ridiculous outfits they shove me into.

By the time five months have passed, I’m almost used to the everyday life inside the mansion. I’ve befriended some of the guards and joined in on some of their late-night card games. They no longer greet me with curt nods and stiff waves, instead greeting me the same way my friends back home would. I have access to almost every room and spend most of my time reading some of the books in the mansion’s library, occasionally taking a book out to the garden when the rain has cleared and reading with the occasional birds or rabbits that come up to me almost expectantly. I learn from a brief encounter with the president in the greenhouse that the animals expect food every time someone steps outside and, from then on, I keep a pouch of seeds and a handful of sliced carrots on me everytime I step out to the garden.

Carrie and Juliet visit me before the Victory Tour is set to begin, giving me final embraces before their departure. As the cameras and prep teams will be with them the entire time, I’m disallowed from joining them at the train station, but their visit is enough for me to hope that they will aid Vivien and Royce with the puzzle if they haven’t solved it already. Once Carrie leaves my room, Juliet takes a small box from her pocket and tucks it into my hand with a wink before following her friend out. The box contains the watch I wore in the arena, the glass no longer broken and the time finally functional once more. Once Juliet boards the train, I hear the voice I’ve grown used to hearing come over the watch’s miniscule speaker, telling me that she’ll keep me updated on everything and let me hear as much as she does once she arrives in District 6.

Juliet keeps to her word and I hear almost every conversation she has once she steps off of the train. I hear the conversations she has with the mayor and some of the people who have gathered at the train station, her idle chatter with the prep teams, and, most interestingly, Royce and his family. It seems as though they have plans to surprise Vivien, something I sincerely hope works out for them. They spend a while talking and preparing Royce for the journey and, just as they’re about to file into the car, I hear him exclaim about something he forgot inside his house. A few minutes later, he returns, sliding into the car alongside Carrie, who asks, “Sherlock Holmes, huh?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “President Harmon gave it to me.”

It’s then that I wonder if he’s solved it. I mean, by now, I would hope that he and Vivien have worked together to answer the puzzle, but there’s no telling. The train ride to District 3 is mostly silent, but that gives me time to try to think of something to say if I’m able to see Vivien and Royce again. A few days into the Victory Tour, when the group is stationed in District 7, I go to the president in search of a certain book I enjoyed in the arena. I try not to look as disappointed as I feel when he tells me that he doesn’t have a copy of the book, but to my surprise, he finds me later that evening in the garden and hands me a set of books by Will Livingston - volumes one and two of my joke book, No Pun Intended. 

I thank him and, before he leaves, he asks, “What is the downside to eating a clock?”

My eyes widen at the prospect of the president cracking a joke from one of the books and I try to think of an answer before shrugging, “I don’t know.”

With a smirk rivaling that of my own, President Harmon replies, “It’s time consuming.”

We share a laugh and the president wishes me a good night before heading back inside, leaving me in the garden with my jokebooks and my thoughts. I spend a few days poring over the books in search of the perfect joke to use and, while I find many that are hilarious, none of them have the impact that I’m looking for. Then, when the Victory Tour is stopped in District 2, I find the perfect joke - one about ghosts. I mean, how fitting is that? I’m supposedly a ghost right now, so it works out perfectly, in my opinion.

For the next few days, I anxiously await the arrival of my friends, thinking of ways they could react to my sudden appearance after all this time. However, nothing could have prepared me for the real deal. I first see them from the same balcony I’d stood on six months prior, Vivien latched onto Royce’s arm as they’re guided through the party by Carrie and Juliet. More than once, I have the urge to vault over the railing and join them, but President Harmon had two of the guards - Hermes and Silas - escort me there for a reason, so I keep myself in check. As the party nears its end, I’m brought back to my room and told to wait there for further instruction When Carrie and Juliet come barging into my room after the party is over, the door bouncing off the wall from slamming it so hard, I have to jump. Then, the glittering excitement in their eyes makes it obvious that the time has come for me to make an appearance.

A million thoughts race through my head as the girls lead me to the circular office the president is waiting in. I hear Vivien and Royce before I see them and their voices alone are enough to make my eyes burn and my chest tighten. The doors slide open silently and Juliet pulls me to a spot just a few paces behind Vivien and Royce and gestures for me to stay silent as the president asks, “How does this coincide with the changes you would like to make?”

I hear Vivien take in a sharp breath, ready to snap back at an instant, but it’s Royce who speaks first, an impressively assertive tone clinging to every word, “If Riven is still alive, here in the Capitol, we would like to bring him home.”

Almost too meekly to sound like my Pip, Vivien utters, “Please. I just want to bring him home.” She takes in another breath and releases her thoughts to the room, “It’s not the same without him. Without him there, I have nobody back home who will tease me relentlessly or sing dumb songs on the walk home from work or will go out on the lake with me in the winter and goof off or-” Vivien’s voice stops and I fight the urge to reach out and comfort her as Royce wraps an arm around her shoulders. With a shaky, almost wet sounding voice, she adds, “Nobody to make me listen to his absolutely terrible jokes.”

I meet the president’s gaze in the silence that follows and, as he rises from the table and takes a book from the other side of it, I wonder if my time has come. “I understand how difficult it is to lose someone, Vivien,” he tells them. “My wife died just a few years ago. Memories like you have are hard to let go of, but there will always be more memories to make with the people you love.”

President Harmon returns to the side everyone hass gathered on and holds a book out for them to see. My joke book. I know my copies are still in the room I’ve been kept in, so I know he must have gotten an extra copy for himself. Vivien reaches out for the book and he pulls it out from near her grasp, leaving her sputtering as he holds it out once more, this time, glancing my way. Carrie nudges me closer and I quickly take the book, saying a quick, “Sorry, Pip,” as I latch onto it. “I know you love books and all, but I believe that’s actually mine.”

Royce is the first to move, breathing out a soft, “No fucking way,” once he sees me. I can feel the burn in my eyes as they begin to blur. 

Royce smiles at me and urges Vivien to turn my way as I try to clal back on any of the times I had prepared for this moment. “I have a joke for you two,” I offer as Vivien turns and I try to keep my emotions in check as she keeps her gaze from mine. 

Eventually, she meets my eyes and I find she’s already crying, her tears lining her cheeks with faint tracks of whatever makeup has been layered on her skin. “Riven?” she mutters.

As much as I want to launch forward and take both of them in, I still want to get my greeting joke across as I ask,  “Why are ghosts terrible liars?”

Vivien looks confused while Royce simply barks a laugh and slams into my chest, berating me with a laugh of, “Six months apart and you decide to greet us with a shitty joke?”

“Shitty?” I laugh as I bring my arms around Royce’s shoulders. “But you haven’t even heard the punchline!”

Royce slides away a step and, as he hastily swipes a hand under his eyes, I turn my attention back to Vivien who looks as though she’s seen a ghost. Her skin, despite the makeup, looks pale and, as she wobbles on her feet, I ask her if she’s alright, but receive no answer. Carrie reaches out and places a hand on her arm, asking a simple, “Vivien?”

In return, Vivien jumps and, all at once, her eyes roll back and I lurch forward, catching her before she has the chance to hit the floor. The others crowd around us as we wait for Vivien to rouse, but it takes a few minutes. Her eyes flutter open and she looks around before muttering a soft, “Tired,” in response to Juliet’s question of if she was alright and falling asleep once again. Despite Royce and the stylists claiming Vivien had been overwhelmed for most of the party and insisting that she must have collapsed due to exhaustion, President Harmon calls for one of his guards who retrieves the President’s personal medic. The doctor examines Vivien, checking her over before simply restating the assumptions passed on by Royce and the girls. In the end, I carry her to the car that has been waiting for us and we ride to the train station in relative silence so as to not wake Vivien. Royce chooses to stay the night with her in case she wakes up confused with being in a new location and I lie awake for most of the night, glad to finally be going home.

Sadly, that's all I've got for you, but I certainly hope that you enjoyed reading through all of the deleted scenes I've compiled over the last few months. This story was such an adventure and I had so much fun working on it, but hopefully, I'll be working on some one-shots soon to fill up the summer with writing and prepare me for my novel version of this fantastic little world we've created with these characters!

#Scattered Screams

[brightgnosis]

okay, so way back when, almost a year ago, we had a discussion about slips/undergarment clothing used to reduce wear and tear on outer clothes. I haven’t quite gotten to the point I’d like just yet, but it’s because part of my issue is being nervous about “contaminating” my indoor spaces with “the outside” - aka anywhere I have to sit, lean against, etc. not sure if there’s anything can be done about this except get a purely indoor wardrobe and purely outdoor. you’re smart with clothes so you’re the person I know who’s best equipped to answer 😅

So fun fact, back in "ye olden days" of the Victorian Era, there used to be a series of loungewear for Women that was exclusively worn inside the house. There were various types- like Tea Gowns (not to be confused at all with the modern concept of a Tea Gown; they're very different beasts), House Coats, and I believe a couple others whose names escape me at the moment. But they were intended to be worn at various points of the day, specifically for different activities. For instance (if I remember correctly, and it's been a while so I may not be thinking of the correct one) Tea Gowns were worn earlier in the day and were suitable for both informally receiving Guests and doing one's housework in.

This idea essentially transitions into the House Dress starting roughly in the 1920's to 1930's, after the Edwardian Era; you'd probably be more familiar with this in the form of the "Day Dress" of the 1940's and 1950's, because that's what it eventually became. Either way, it was an easy-to-don dress made of a sturdy material that could hold up to regular laundering, that was suitable for doing the Housework in- but was presentable enough you could also run some of your basic daily errands around the neighborhood in, too, if you needed to (back when cities were far more walkable than they are today).

The Orientalism of the 1930's also saw the rise of the (usually satin or silk) long Pajama set in the west- which was originally conceptualized as a form of loungewear for receiving evening guests if I remember correctly. Things like the Stay-At-Home, the Hostess Dress, Brunch Coats, Leisure Dusters, and other garments also existed moving further into the 20th century.

What I'm trying to say, ultimately, is: The idea of the "Inside / Outside" wardrobe division? Completely normal for approximately a century or two after the rise of the middle class thanks to the Industrial Era. So if you feel like you need that kind of a division in your life for your own wardrobe, absolutely go for it! There's no real reason not to if you feel like you can afford it and want to prioritize it- and there's plenty of historical exempla that you can look at to take inspiration from. Especially starting roughly from the start of the first bustle era of the Victorians, through roughly about the mid 1960's / early 1970's when it started to fall out of fashion.

That being said, there's also the entire concept of Protective Wear, as well: Thousands of Apron styles, various types of Overcoats, Jumpsuits, and more, all exist specifically to protect your clothing while you're out and about doing things outdoors, so that you don't track things back inside with you. You can even wear them inside the house, as well, when doing particularly dirty tasks you don't want to dirty inside clothes with, either. And they can all make a huge difference depending on what your activity actually is. Like, for instance, personally I wear a water resistant Apron every time I'm out in the garden to keep stuff off my clothing.

Other than that, as someone who is constantly getting into the muck and has no wardrobe division, so is constantly bringing things in with them ... You're really just going to have to remember your cleaning and hygiene essentials: Shoes off immediately at the door. House Shoes (slippers) never to be worn outside. If you come in covered in a yuck, you strip in the bathroom or laundry and wash those clothes immediately instead of letting them sit. Don't let any guck that falls off you or gets on something just sit there, and instead clean it up quickly. So on and so forth.

#resolvedbrunette #Answered Asks #2023 Asks #2023 #Face & Body #Ye True Olden Days #Homemaking #Housewife #Homemaker #NonTrad Homemaker #NonTrad Housewife #NonTrad Homemaking #Misc Asks

[cybermeep]

the amount of disemboweling and mangling of flesh done over the years is baffling, almost grotesque. i will make a synopsis of what i mean

being shown a certain way of life, making jokes of inappropriate caliber -> having to unlearn this vividly, something i struggled with; primarily because i grew to be accustomed to things which i shouldn’t have and had to deconstruct who i was as a person at age, like, eleven -> rinse and repeat, several times over, across my entire living experience

a plethora of traumatic experiences, none of which i will name.. would take too much time, also frankly boring. i don’t believe anyone would take joy in reading about it all. will say, these experiences ruined my sense of knowing essentially anything -> ruined sense of intimacy, tainted lens of love (although i more so didn’t believe in it, as i stated somewhere before.. so it wasn’t really tainted, just not believed in)

acute paranoia from a young age, lead up to today, probably will continue— although lessened as i’ve gotten older -> acute awareness of existence and being alive, whilst simultaneously being so disassociated from surroundings in my middle school years -> just in general knowing way too much and overthinking more than any sane child would

the acts never really done, but always thought about… generally because of cowardice -> finding ways to go about this in ways which are not the norm -> ultimately still being self-destructive, just in odd and abnormal way

what i mean to say is that, metaphorically and somewhat physically, i have contorted my flesh into something that has persevered despite the grueling states of living. i took the ribs which were given by my mother and father, destined to hurt others, and came out with the only blood on my hands being my own.

i have been beaten down again and again, a child who only knew too close touches as a means to affection, a girl who had her own issues regarding sibling relationships presumably viewing my friendliness as something of romantic desire, a teenage girl vexed by the lingering veil of parental issues and interpersonal failing relationships, taking to being an edgelord & insulting her childhood friend as a means of odd pleasure, surrounding herself with horrible people, two grown men accustomed to the allure of vices and the beating of women, reeking of booze…

despite all this, i still manage to be where i am today— my therapist tells me i have drastically improved. i was born from a body originally inhabiting a cancer, and although beaten & bloody, i manage to stand upright. i am kind, and i don’t even realize it. i hold reverence when i don’t need to, i am utterly baffled when i am hit with insults from my mother… i look at her, the hand that feeds, the one half of my corrupted veins, and say to her face to stop saying rude things about someone i care about, regardless of what i may have endured. because i am her daughter, she argues— argues intensely. when she realizes i won’t give up, that i will be stubborn until the end, she inevitably relents.

i don’t do any of this to inherently get anything, nor do i act the way i do to write about it. i would prefer to not talk about that argument in this public format, actually.. but it is only fitting, albeit embarrassing. it shows how different i am compared to what i could be… how, despite everything, i am kind. i take my hands which were made to fight and use them to carefully flip pages & upturn beetles back to standing upright, to help caterpillars get to a safe destination. i know i don’t have to, but i want to.

i think… i think its a good thing that i have changed from what was originally imposed onto me.

i believe i am finally getting the life that i never got to live, and it is nothing short of petrifying. however, i’m happy to fear it— that means im living.

#cybers tangents

[ponyworldbuilding]

Princess Twilight Sparkle hasn’t been seen for hundreds of years, your flank recently grew a symbol on it and now your horn casts magic! That’s right, today we’re talking about Hasbro’s “official fan fiction”, My Little Pony: A New Generation. You’re probably wondering why I call it that, and I do too! This series started in 2021 with a movie, placing itself distinctly within the confines of the Equestria of Friendship is Magic. Except it didn’t, there are differences and changes. As a sequel, I think this latest generation serves as an important lesson in fan fiction writing, retcon and universe presentation.

I stumbled across this article recently and realised that my concerns and feelings with the newly released series are applicable across writing of any narrative that is trying to exist within a pre-established universe. Like the romance that article describes, it could be made completely original without destroying its primary story. Since the very opening of its debut movie, generation five of My Little Pony has had strong and direct ties to its preceding generation. Rather than an entirely new story, it’s similar to many other “next generation” stories in various media. The debut movie was an enjoyable watch that excited fans, myself and reviewers alike. However, the generation as a whole has both struggled to follow and utilise the material its supposed to be set after.

When diverging from an existing canon, it’s important to make that clear very early on in any work. The audience is expecting to have knowledge that they can apply to the writing, insights that they can use with new information to theorise and get excited about the new direction of a story. If it is not clear early on how divergent things are, then an audience can no longer have confidence in their existing knowledge. One of the key benefits to expanding an existing work is suddenly lost.

The time travel and alternative universe tropes are good examples of this when done well. Within the first few paragraphs or minutes of this new narrative there are clear and present details that highlight change. The audience is able to clearly determine that they aren’t supposed to rely entirely on what they know. Spider-Man: Across The Spider-verse does just that. Articles and reviewers and audiences love its expressive use of style and colour to make a beautiful visual spectacle, but these techniques are also used to divide and differentiate each alternate universe.

A New Generation has been doing the opposite. In almost three years, several comics, a video game, 5 chapters of a main series and many episodes of a mini-series, I still can’t figure out whether this generation is trying to faithfully follow Friendship is Magic but has writing issues or is set within its own Equestria that looks very similar in some ways but very different in others. The most plot relevant details (no spoilers) often do not require a connection to Friendship is Magic to work, but we’re showered with smaller references and connections constantly. It feels like the writers are trying to keep me interested because I liked Friendship is Magic, rather than trying to get me to like A New Generation. Never do this with your own writing.

If a story does not need to be connected to another piece of media, DO NOT make that connection. Sequels are at their best when they expand upon what was established to make something new. Fan fiction is most interesting when it explores and expands upon what was missed or could have been different. Use the tools and world you have been given to explore to their fullest or make your own.

#my little pony #mlp g5 #worldbuilding #fanfiction #writing