#they are both responsible for their current situation
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astercontrol · 14 hours ago
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omg I have some complicated feelings about this.
so there's one comment in the notes about how "lazy" employees would refuse to send an email for customer convenience even though it would take "just 2 seconds" to send. Which... yeah, valid complaint
but it's more than just "laziness" on the part of employees (although there definitely are a lot of employees who have lost all empathy for what customers and patients are actually going through, and that's its own whole problem, and it's frustrating as hell for those employees who still do care).
It's also a systemic "laziness" on the part of corporations: a refusal to put certain things in their own employees' job descriptions and to allot enough staffing to do those things.
yes, at my pharmacy job it could take 2 seconds to send an email, IF there was an established template for emails and an easily accessible button to select, customize and send it for the patient who currently needs it. But if it isn't so seamlessly integrated into our job, it will require composing the email from scratch on our own.
Which still isn't a LOT of time and work… but, suppose it takes 1 minute. Then multiply by, say, 30 customers who need it done per day per employee (in a busy pharmacy day shift). That's 30 extra minutes of work for the employee who gets those 30 calls. Who, in many cases, is already assigned more work than physically possible to complete in a day, even skipping all breaks, and will be penalized for taking any overtime. If this extra email-sending is not explicitly a required part of the employee's job description, an already overworked employee is not likely to try and make time to do it.
Now, I'm the kind of employee who still does this sort of thing for patients who ask. And I did this even at my worst and most overworked jobs. Where it was thankless work, each individual case more likely to get me yelled at than praised by management (although, once I'd established it as an expectation customers had, I'd then also get yelled at for not doing it, by both customers and management, once the managers got the customer complaints). No-win situation for everyone.
Another source of frustration for the busier pharmacies I've worked in: The responsibility of calling for prescription transfers. Everyplace I've worked has had basically the same rule: If a patient wants to get a med transferred from one pharmacy to another, calling for it is the responsibility of the pharmacy that is to receive the prescription.
I think the reason is partly corporate self-interest ("no pharmacy takes on the extra work of making calls to give away their own customers to another pharmacy. The pharmacy getting the new business has to work for it.") But it's also probably an issue of responsibility for error-- if I call another pharmacy to transfer out a prescription because a patient told me to, I'm at fault if I've been given the wrong contact information and end up transferring it to the wrong pharmacy.
Or, if the patient hasn't even looked into whether the other pharmacy even CAN fill this prescription, they just think it'd be more convenient-- then, if I call the other pharmacy to transfer, they are likely to assume I know what I'm doing (especially if I get an entry-level, barely trained employee, as is often the case). They'll accept my word that they should be able to fill it. And then, if it ends up being something they don't sell, or an insurance they don't accept, THEN we've got the prescription stuck at a pharmacy that can't do anything with it, and it'll be another whole mess to get it back, and then it's my fault for not just leaving the work to the pharmacy that's invested in getting the new Rx.
In practice, though, the way it's done is ALSO an absolute mess.
At my busier former workplaces, it would go like this:
I pick up the phone. It's one of our current patients, calling to say they need their prescription transferred to another pharmacy. I tell them that they will have to call the other pharmacy to call us. They fight back, pointing out that this is extra work for everyone (because at that point, me calling the other pharmacy would be just one more call, whereas them calling the other pharmacy and having them call me would be two more calls.) I agree but reiterate that it's our policy. The patient hangs up. Then later-- assuming that those two calls out of my control actually went through-- our pharmacy will hear from the other one, and we'll start the transfer process.
BUT I'd better have made sure I added a clear note on the patient's profile about their earlier call, AND that my coworkers actually bother to look at the profile notes. Because, turns out that call wasn't just wasted time on the patient's part-- even though the patient may now think it was.
Because, if we don't have any record of the patient's earlier call, then whichever of my coworkers received the new call is now just getting a random out-of-nowhere call from another pharmacy asking us to give them one of our customers! And there've been issues with pharmacies that have done that without even having the patient's permission. SO we've got to call back again to confirm with the patient that they actually want this. It's the most excruciating game of phone tag and everyone involved totally hates it.
And this is before I even get into the subject of calls that involve doctors' offices or fucking insurance companies.
Which… no, I'm not going to get into that now. (crashes in exhaustion)
I think this is just a trend everywhere but I've been very frustrated this week by how much admin work is being outsourced to me as the patient/customer.
My orthodontist tells me I can make an appointment with the surgeon. I call the surgeon. They tell me I need a new referral. I call the orthodontist. They do a referral. I call the surgeon. Referral didn't come through. They tell me about their special unique system we have to use. I call the ortho again and walk them through the referral. I call the surgeon. They say the referral was missing some details so they have to do it again. I call the ortho.
The insurance company calls me about repair shops. I give them the name of the repair shop which I already gave them yesterday. They say they're not in their system but I can use them, but I have to call the repair shop to ask them to contact the insurance company. I call the repair shop and they say the insurance company is supposed to email them.
I feel like at a certain point these constant fetch quests become unreasonable?? Is it too much to expect these groups to communicate with each other instead of making me run back and forth between them???
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vxsellie · 17 hours ago
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‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗
a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔳𝔦
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summary. our tributes are to be rounded up, judged by the gamemakers, and ranked 1-12 on skill. what with all that took place the night prior, this should be fun!
content warnings. graphic depictions of abuse (memories), lack of communication, complex emotions (neither of these girls can process their feelings wtf)
total wc. 10,190
notes!! i've got nothing to say here. i talked a LOT in the post-notes tho! so be sure to check those out! anyway,,, once again, reminder that it's better read on ao3!
𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚
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09:30.
TRAINING CENTER, GROUND LEVEL.
Echoes of desolation ring throughout the training room. Hardly anyone showed up today, deeming it more salient to practice for the ratings at noon. See, following lunch, everyone will be called by District to the Observation room. Within it will reside the Gamemakers—those responsible for the brutality for the Games each year. There, the tributes will show off their skills and earn a score that ranges from one to twelve. To be given a one is the lowest possible rating, deeming the tribute to be menial; to be given a twelve is, well, unheard of. Nobody has scored a twelve. To earn higher than even an eight is considered incredible.
Anyway, due to today’s peculiarity, most tributes have dedicated the day to rest, not wishing to waste their energy prior to the ratings. Only six people are here, seven with Ellie appended—everyone else having opted for absence. Including you.
Among those present are Sam and Henry, which is unsurprising as they spend every second possible within the training room. As well as Dahlia Hart, the young girl from Eleven, who has yet to venture away from the animal station, a large book clutched in her small hands as she reads about random creatures of her interest. Elliot Delcan from Nine is here as well, too caught up in his own interests to care much for his surroundings. Anthea Solace from One is immersed in a deep conversation with the trainer who teaches tributes to make fishing hooks and nets, though they both seem to have long since abandoned the actuality of their situation. Remy Wilson, your District partner, is present as well, struggling to build a shelter out of sticks and moss.
Ellie is currently being lectured on how to tie a knot. The trainer was stoical for the first twenty minutes, though he’s seemed to lose that sense of patience. But Ellie’s stupid rope won’t bend the way his does, the fibers all frayed and twisted.
“Under, Williams.” The man repeats for the hundredth time. He holds the rope out as he easily ties a bowline knot, forming a perfect circle. His hands move too fast for her to grasp his exact motions. He raises his brows. “See?”
Fuck this. Ellie heaves a heavy sigh, throwing the rope onto the tiled floor before pushing to her feet and storming off. 
As she heads over to a random station across the gym, someone blocks her path. Ellie nearly trips over them, their frame far too small to be jumping out at people like that. She looks down, already irritated. Two feet shorter than her in height, Dahlia Hart’s big brown eyes stare up at her. Ellie’s anger dissipates instantly at the sight of the young girl. There are so many kids in the Games this year. Too many.
“Can I talk to you?” Dahlia asks, tilting a head of coily hair. Her voice is so small, yet her tone remains direct and terse.
“Uh, yeah.” Ellie forces herself to push down any prior—and unrelated—feelings of vexation as she agrees to speak with the girl. She follows Dahlia over to a secluded area of the gym, the two of them partially hidden behind a rack of weaponry. “What’s up?”
“Your ear.” Dahlia speaks lowly, pointing to the gauze that it’s currently wrapped in. 
Ellie had attempted to cover the bandages with her hair this morning, even asking Tilly for some help with a better way to style it, though she couldn’t do much. She simply situated the auburn strands more deliberately before coating her entire scalp in some kind of hairspray that left it feeling oddly solidified in place. 
“What about it?” She attempts to sound casual as she raises a brow at the child. 
“I saw.” She whispers as though they’re sharing some horrible secret. They might be. “Nolan attacked you yesterday. He threw a spear at your head and Y/n defended you. She hit him for breaking the rules and she’s the one being punished.”
The mention of you protecting Ellie sends a shiver down her spine, especially after everything from last night—which she’s been doing a good job at trying not to think about. Thanks a lot, Dahlia.
“She’s a L/n, nothing’ll happen to her.” Ellie assures her shortly, wanting to get out of this conversation as soon as possible.
Dahlia frowns. “I thought you guys were friends.”
Friends. 
What a strange word. It entails so much, yet so little. It describes two people who have known one another their entire life, yet can also describe two people who have spoken thrice. So much room for interpretation. So much room to fuck it all up. 
Ellie thinks of you, though the word doesn’t embody your enigmatic relationship with accuracy. Moonlight on soft skin, smoke in chilled night air, pillowy lips joining of idiotic impulse. Such gentility. But there are other memories as well; a duality. Sharp gazes across crowded rooms, words cryptic when shared in publicity, fists finding purchase in the other’s body during practice.
After you, she thinks of Riley. A friend for life, naught else. Their laughter rang true, the same sound trailing all the way back to their shared youth. To have grown with someone is a special feat that not many are lucky enough to experience. She’s watched Riley’s jaw set with age, her teeth fall out and regrow over the years, her voice roughen with puberty. But now, when she needs that seemingly impenetrable bond most, there’s nothing. A voyage from splendor to oblivion, from brilliance to shadowy nihility. 
Friends. What a joke.
Ellie looks down at Dahlia’s curious eyes and can’t bring herself to get mad at her. It’s not the child’s fault that the world is so cruel, so faulty. She’s yet to be exposed to such torment, and she likely never will. Not after she was Reaped. Not after you inevitably steal the victor’s crown from the hands of twenty-three innocent tributes.
“There can’t be friends in the Hunger Games, Dahlia.” Ellie says solemnly, gaze softening.
“Yes there can.” She speaks as though there's not a doubt in her mind. Perhaps there’s not. Perhaps the purity of youth is all anyone can cling to for a sense of clarity in a world such as this. Dahlia presses her lips together, mouth twisting to the side. “Friends can be made anywhere, my mom said. So long as you’re willing to maintain them.”
“Your mom must be a very wise woman.” 
“Oh, she is. She’s a preschool teacher back in Eleven.” Dahlia says proudly. “She’s had hundreds of kids and she’s never wrong.”
“I suppose teachers rarely are, huh?”
She nods. “They’re the bravest of us all, I think. Nobody else is fearless enough to tolerate such unruly kids, daily.”
“Yeah,” Ellie chuckles.
She’s not exactly the best person to have the conversation with. The entire reason she and Riley met was because they happened to be sneaking out of school at the same time. Ellie was fleeing the concrete building when she spotted Riley scaling the fence, just barely out of sight from the Peacekeepers that patrolled the campus.
Point is, she’s feeling a bit on edge at the moment—speaking to a child about the morality of professors, knowing damn well she was the most disrespectful student any of hers had the displeasure of teaching. Despite this, she manages to maintain a rather monotonous conversation with Dahlia about this, happy to indulge the girl enough to keep her attention away from the initial reason behind their meeting here. She’d withhold this small talk all day, if she needed to.
Anything to keep her mind off of you.
However, the comfortability of the dull discussion is cut off when Dahlia somehow manages to loop the topic right back to Ellie’s ear. And she does it so seamlessly that it’s almost impressive, as if she’d planned it all along.
“Another thing my mom always talks about,” She says, “Is honesty. How good people shouldn’t be punished for bad peoples’ misdeeds.”
The look she gives Ellie’s ear is enough to make her swallow harshly, unable to form a good response to the accusation.
“Y/n is a good person, right? Why is she getting all the effects caused by Nolan’s badness?” Dahlia sounds more like she’s simply thinking aloud rather than speaking to Ellie. “It doesn’t make sense. You should be honest, tell everyone that he hurt you and she was being a good person by defending you.”
“Sorry, kid.” Ellie sighs. “But it’s far more complicated than that.”
“How?” Dahlia shoots back.
Too many ways. First of all, Nolan is a career tribute despite being Reaped from District Ten. He’s trained for brutality and expects to be shown respect. Ellie, albeit unintentionally, dismounted this by fooling him. He’s a victim to the Games just as everyone else is. Second, you weren’t technically defending Ellie. You pushed him for her, sure, but you hit him because of what he’d said about your family. And if that were to be revealed to the Capitol, they’d likely have Nolan turned into an Avox for speaking ill of the L/ns—which is terribly dramatic and unfair on their part. Lastly, Ellie would be seen as weak for needing to be protected. Plus, considering all that’s happened between the two of you, she doesn’t much wish to see you praised for saving her.
“How about this,” Ellie proposes, “Why don’t we go ask Remy what to do? He’d be good friends with Y/n because they’re from the same district, wouldn’t you think?”
“Hmm,” Dahlia hums in thought, “Maybe…”
She places her hands on each of Dahlia’s shoulders and begins to lead her out from behind the weaponry, bringing her back into the gym area with everyone else. She quickly gazes around the room until she spots where Remy remains at the shelter-making station, patiently picking up a stick that’s fallen from the shabby roof. 
He looks up as Dahlia and Ellie approach, his eyes widening.
Ellie hasn’t spoken to Remy, only having seen him in passing. He seems to be far more shy than Dahlia—who is quite outspoken and, as it turns out, unafraid to confront people. His build is far smaller than any of the other kids, appearing to be three years younger than he actually is. His body is thin, topped with a head of curly brown hair and big eyes filled with wonder. 
“Dahlia, meet Remy.” Ellie says, hoping this will manage to get her out of the accusatory conversation regarding her wounded ear. “Remy, meet Dahlia.”
Remy doesn’t have the chance to speak before Dahlia is jumping right to the point. “Your partner, Y/n, did you notice anything odd about her last night?”
Ellie is a bit impressed, as well as grateful, that she’d refrained from blurting out the entire situation to him. She knew there was a high chance someone had witnessed the entire scene, though she was far more caught up in other issues to care much for possibilities such as that. Dahlia’s refrain is a good sign that she won’t go around telling random people.
“She–” Remy blinks, his brown eyes flicking between Ellie and Dahlia repeatedly. His hands begin to fiddle with the stick he’s still holding onto. He makes an expression of discomfort, revealing his crooked teeth with gaps between each one. “I– uh, I don’t talk to her much. She was in her room all last night, I think. I didn’t see her. Not– She didn’t show up to dinner, I don’t think.”
“Did she talk to your mentor about anything related to Nolan?” Dahlia interrogates him, leaning closer with wide eyes. Remy looks terrified as he takes a careful step away from her. 
“Nolan?”
“Yeah.” Dahlia nods. “He’s the buff guy from Ten. Did they mention him?”
“I–I don’t know what they talk about.” He tells her shakily. “They don’t talk much. If they do, it’s private. Or– Well, sometimes they argue? I dunno. They’re weird.”
Ellie frowns, thinking of the things you’d told her about your brother—you two were best friends as kids until he was Reaped. It vaguely reminds her of Riley and herself. She imagines a small child watching them in the suite. Having to bear witness to the tension and unspoken words. That must be a heavyweight on his shoulder, on all of your shoulders.
She pats Dahlia on the head before she can interrogate him further. “Alrighty. Let’s leave him alone for now, yeah?”
“But–”
“C’mon,” She says, “You can show me what animals you were reading about.”
This seems to excite the girl, brown eyes lighting up. She grabs Ellie by the wrist and tugs her toward the animal station. As she’s pulled away from Remy, she casts a glance over her shoulder just in time to see his frown. He’s twisting the stick in his hands as he stares at the floor, expression saddened. He’s never looked smaller.
Dahlia sits Ellie down on the wooden bench and begins telling her all about the random creatures in her book. She nods along to what she’s saying, though her mind is elsewhere. On Remy, on you.
Is Remy disheartened because of Dahlia's pushiness to know about you? Or is it about the Games in general? If it’s to be the former, Ellie wonders why. Nothing too bad could happen within the suite considering the abundance of cameras around the center. Does he have issues back home that plague his mind, or is it just you? Ellie wishes desperately that she could see all that’s happened within the fourth floor. Just for a few moments. Just for a few answers.
Not only to uncover the root to Remy’s despondency but also for her own selfishness. A beastly feeling that rears its head in your proximity. The desire to know more, more, more about you. It sickens her to know that this is what the entire Capitol feels—an insatiable yearning to become acquainted with the L/ns. She’s nothing more than one of them, yet another poor soul to have fallen in the trap of your lineage.
But, worse than that, she can’t seem to hate you for it. She’d gotten to know you quite well in the past few days. Even if it were all a trick of your own concoction, she can’t stop thinking of those words you’d shared in regards to Cat. 
“We weren’t much of anything before we were nothing.” Ellie had said.
“Yet you were still something.” You pointed out. “That’s what matters.”
Perhaps there’s a common denominator here, and it’s Ellie. She’d been with women before, and plenty of them. Her first relationship was when she was in year six, having dated a girl for two days before they broke up over something childish and dumb. Then, in highschool, she dated Riley for half of a year, though they eventually came to realize that they work best as friends. Then there was Cat—a girl she met at the Hob while selling her quarry. They were sleeping together on and off for two years before the Reaping, never having assigned the title of girlfriend to their relationship. 
Ellie has no idea what your dating history looks like, but she’s certain it’s not as pathetic as her own. She’d never been with anyone seriously. Even when she was with Riley, they didn’t do anything more than hold hands and kiss. And Cat hardly counts in actuality—though the emotional effects remain prominent despite the lack of acknowledgement. 
She’s annoyed that you left her, yes, but there had to be something more. You kissed her as though you were just as desirous as she. Plus, the look of fear in your eyes when you pulled away pointed to something other than a mere change of heart.
Her hopes were to talk to you today, to sort through everything that's happened. But you didn’t show up to training, which she should have expected. Maybe she’ll be able to catch you in the halls or something. As long as it takes place before the Games, she hardly minds the circumstantial location. Because as soon as you’re all placed into the arena, there’s no possibility that she’ll be able to have a conversation with you. And, even if you two miraculously ran into each other, your words would have to be cryptic due to the cameras.
It might be pathetic, but Ellie doesn’t even care what happens. Regardless of whether you scream at her or hug her, the ending will be the same—her dead in the arena as you exit as a Diamond. She just wants closure before she’s killed. Because this has been driving her insane all day. She slept a total of thirty minutes last night, actually.
“-–And this is a tree-rat.” Dahlia says as Ellie turns back into her words. “They’re Capitol made, I believe. Look at their snouts, that’s not evolutionarily induced.”
Ellie nods, humming as Dahlia points to the photograph on the laminated page before she begins reading out the paragraph below it that explains the animal’s function. Her voice is so soft, her fingers so thin. It’s absolutely monstrous that she’s expected to fight to the death in the arena. Especially when the ages this year stretch so high. 
After a conversion with Joel last night over dinner, Ellie found out that the tributes from Twelve are in their late forties. Due to the lack of children in their District, middle-aged citizens took up the majority of the slips of paper. In Twelve, hundreds of kids die everyday due to starvation. Even if a child were to be Reaped, they’d likely have killed themself upon seeing the food on the train—accidentally filling their bellies too full.
The men seemed ominous when Ellie saw them during prior training days, looming over the other tributes creepily. Joel informed her that their names were David and James. David has a red nose and grey hair parted in the side. James is always wearing a beanie over his greasy hair, sticking to David like glue.
Ellie looks across the room at Remy’s crooked smile as he finally finishes creating a shelter. A few stations down, Sam is getting better at creating a fire, Henry cheering loudly whenever he manages to create a spark. She then gazes down at Dahlia’s expression of excitement as she goes on about a random fish. These kids are so innocent, so undeserving of this fate. There’s also Cooper Whitlock from Eleven and Lev from Two. 
Never, in the history of the Games, have so many children been Reaped. This year’s arena must be especially brutal.
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10:42.
TRAINING CENTER, FLOOR 4.
You’ve hardly left your room today, seeking the comfort of privacy. You’d lowered the temperature last night so the air is freezing, causing you to burrow under your heavy blankets with heightened vehemency. Plus, the metallic machine built into the wall beside your door can materialize food, so there’s really no reason to leave. You have everything you need.
You’ve fallen in and out of slumber all morning, your dreams filled with distorted images of various people in your life—Ruben, your mother, Remy, Ellie, Alice. It’s disturbing, the malformity. Each dream ends the same, causing you to wake with a jolt every time. It ends with a very distinct sound. Your mother’s cane slamming against tiled flooring. The word ‘again’ ringing through your ears in a gravelly voice that sounds like a mix of everyone’s. Over time, as you’ve experienced this over and over, the sound starts to remind you of something else. Of a lighter falling from a pocket.
“Again.” The mangled voice croons, hot breath tickling the back of your neck. You oblige, body fatigued with overexertion. You try your hardest to train without fault, to be perfectly flawless in each move you make. But, as always, you misstep. Right beside your ear, a loud clacking sound is heard. It’s so loud, reverberating through your skull as the floor shatters beneath your feet.
You jolt awake, chest heaving as you sit up in your bed. Despite the cold air of your room, you’re coated in sweat. Just like each time prior to this, you have to look around to remind yourself that the dream wasn’t real. 
A half-eaten plate of food sits on your nightstand, thin rays of sunlight struggling to squeeze between your closed curtains. On your desk resides an abandoned notebook with a minimum of twenty pages torn from the spine. It wasn’t real. It was a dream. Again.
Just as you begin to burrow down into the bed, a knocking is heard at the door. Knuckles on wood, wood on metal, metal on tile. It all sounds the same. Knocking, clacking, clanging. A fist, a cane, a lighter. With a deep breath, you sit upright and attempt to straighten out your hair.
“Come in.” You call out, though your fingers continue to battle with the tangled strands.
The door creaks open and Ruben’s head pokes through the crack. His expression is soft as he speaks harshly, “It’s almost noon, get off your ass.”
You lift your head, recognizing the look in his eye. He doesn’t mean his words, they’re forged by the Capitol. He’s unable to speak his mind, even in the privacy of your assigned bedroom. But this isn’t your bedroom, is it? It’s the equivalent to a pigpen where animals for slaughter are kept prior to their death. There’s nothing comforting about that.
You kick the blanket from your body, suddenly feeling disgusted by it all. 
Ruben continues to watch you from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest to paint a facade of impatience. He sighs, “You look horrible.” 
This statement is actually true. You’ve yet to take a shower or brush your hair, still wearing the outfit that you’d worn while watching a movie with him last night. The ratings are in an hour and a half, just enough time for you to clean yourself up.
“I’ll take a shower then come down for lunch.” You say, feigning obedience.
“Good.” Ruben speaks harshly before turning on his heel and leaving the room, slamming the door behind him. That was a nice touch, you ought to admit.
You remain in your bed for a few moments even after he’s left, staring at the wall as your mind reels. You’ve yet to give yourself time to process things—anything. Whenever your brain begun to stray, you’d simply fallen back asleep. Now that that’s no longer an option, you feel as though you’re drowning in your own thoughts. Good thing you’re from Four, you’re rather skilled at staying afloat.
With a deep inhale, you stand from the bed. Cold air licks down your spine, tracing goosebumps along the entirety of your skin. Shivering, you walk over to the thermostat and reset the temperature back to a normal setting. You then enter the bathroom and strip out of your nightclothes.
The warm water is heavenly in contrast to the biting air outside of the bathroom. Your body visibly relaxes under the heat, allowing the shower to rain down as you stand there, unmoving.
It reminds you of the sea from Four. Despite only having visited a few times—due to your parents prohibiting any unnecessary expeditions from home—you’d come to love it. The endlessness of the horizon, the sound of crashing waves, the scent of salt. Oh, if you were to live in your ideal oasis, it’d be the ocean. Such tranquility for something deemed to be evil. The ocean is a woman, always has been and always will be. And that in itself is enough to make you fond of her.
You can easily recall the days you and Ruben were brave enough to sneak to the beach. Sand squished beneath your toes as Ruben splashed around in the waves. He’d pick you up by the arms over each comber. You giggled as he hauled you into the air, your eyes shut and mouth wide with delight. 
I mean, it was so close to your home. You needed only to walk three minutes South and you were in the surf. Plus, contradictory to your parents’ beliefs, nobody even noticed the two of you. Until they did.
One time, when your parents were called to the Capitol for a few days for some kind of Diamond party, you and Ruben snuck down to the beach. You had begged him to take you, pleading as he continuously refused. Eventually, however, he gave in—as he always did when it came to you. It was noon when you’d reached the sandy dunes, wind whipping through your hair. You giggled and ran through the hot sediment toward the surf. Ruben, carrying all your belongings, clambered after you with a heavy sigh. You were seven, he was twelve. You were both so blissfully unaware of the calamity that would evoke in the year to follow.
Ruben set up the umbrella and chairs as you darted straight for the water, laughing the whole way down. The waves were rough, stretching far higher than normal. Not that you paid much mind. By the time Ruben joined you in the water, you were deep into the ocean—enough so that your feet came off the ground when the waves rolled in.
“You’re too far out, Y/n, c’mon.” He said, grabbing your wrist as he began to tug you toward the shore. You groaned, though you allowed yourself to be led away. You floated on your back as he gently pulled you through the rippled water.
He stopped once the water was shallow enough to have reached his knees and your belly button. You frowned, “I wanna go deeper, Ru.”
His lips thinned, casting a glance out at the horizon. The waves were huge, white-capping as they curled into themselves. A few, out deeper, even reached three feet in height. Ruben turned back to you with a pointed expression. “Maybe later. It’s too windy right now.”
“Fine.” You huffed, though you weren’t entirely swayed into conduct. 
The two of you ended up having lots of fun, notwithstanding your prior complaints. He taught you the names of different fish, though the ones you were able to see were only varieties of different minnows. He also showed you how to read the tides, explaining the way the moon’s gravity pulls the water like a rope. You didn’t understand it, but appreciated the lesson. As he pointed out at the horizon, moving on to explain the underwater currents, something deep in your chest yearned to venture forth. Like a tether tied you to the deep blue. You ignored it, knowing it’d be best to obey your brother’s orders. He knows best, after all.
The sun moved along its coast through the sky, inching lower as the hours ticked by. By the time pink clouds were beginning to feather through the vacant blueness, Ruben decided it was time to eat something. He’d packed the ingredients to make fish sandwiches, stored away in his green bag that sat by the umbrella. 
“Can I swim for a little while longer?” You asked him. 
“Fine.” He gave in instantly. “But only while I prepare the food. Once it’s done, you’re eating with me, okay?”
“Okay!” You agreed, nodding with a wide smile.
He kissed you on the head before wading through the water back to the sand. You watched him go, salty water trickling down his scarred legs as he crouched into the sand. He dug through the bag, his back facing you.
You turned toward the water, cupping your hands around your eyes as you looked for the fish he’d taught you about. You see a school of shiners and a few fatheads. Then, a large shadow catches your gaze. Childish curiosity filled you as the huge fish swam through the seagrass. Eyes still downcast, you began to follow it. As the fish sped up, so did you. Giggling, you wandered deeper into the water as the fish swam out to sea. Before you knew it, the waves were washing over your head.
A particularly large wave swiped your feet out from under you, causing your entire body to be pulled under the wash. You resurfaced a few feet away from where you’d just been, the current having tugged you away like a puppet. You coughed, throat burning with salt as you treaded water. 
“Ru?” You called out in a rough voice. You spun in a circle only to find water on all sides of you. The waves kept coming, washing you under the surface. Panic gripped you by the neck as your legs kicked in the water. You began to cry. “Ruben!”
Another wave, another shout. You began to see the sand in the troughs of the waves, golden  and glistening like a beacon. Your arms were getting tired, the current only pulling you farther and farther from shore. Suddenly, someone was grabbing your wrist. Young, alone, and taught to trust nobody, you instantly kicked them in the breastbone. 
Cursing under their breath, the person released you. It was a stranger, a middle aged woman who was big enough to touch the ground with her feet. You breathed hard, tears streaking your salty face. She sputtered, looking up at you with a worried expression. It quickly faded to astonishment as her eyes widened in recognition. “You’re Y/n L/n.”
You continued to stare at her, still treading water and still crying. You called for Ruben again, which only confirmed her suspicion. 
“I can take you to him.” She claimed, holding out her hand.
A mixture of youthful naivety and lack of choices caused you to take her hand. She held you on her hip as she walked through the water. You continued to cry as she attempted to make conversation—asking about your family and what you’re doing all alone. You didn’t answer her, uninterested in such small talk.
By the time you reached the shore, Ruben was already running over to you. The moment you saw him, you kicked the woman hard in the side and caused her to drop you into the sand. You quickly pushed to your feet and ran to your brother, sobbing incoherent apologies. He ran his fingers through your hair, pressing kisses to your head as he assured you that everything was fine now that he knew you were okay.
That night, word got back to your parents in the Capitol. Word of their children causing quite the scene at a beach. You two had made headlines within a few hours—’Little Y/n L/n, lost at sea, saved by a kind passerby who she’d repaid with violence. Sounds like she’s already an innate victor with such instinctive barbarity.’
Your parents came home earlier than planned, having stormed into the house in the middle of the night. You’d been curled up against Ruben when they slammed open the bedroom door and flipped on the light. You had barely rubbed the sleep from your eyes when your father clamped his hands around your ankles and tore you from the bed. You slammed against the floor, instantly woken.
He held out a crumpled newspaper, “What the fuck is this?”
“I–” Your eyes were wide as a bruise already began to form on your back where you’d smacked the hardwood floor. “I don’t know what–” “I told her it was a good idea.” Ruben spoke up from the bed, voice quiet and shaky. You were taken aback by the blatant lie, though he didn’t back down. “I knew you guys would be gone for two days and– Well, I’d always wanted to go to the beach, so…”
That did it. That was enough for your parents to redirect the blame. 
You’d so rarely seen your father. He was always holed up in his home within the victor’s village. But he was beckoned to the Capitol alongside your mother and so they likely heard the news in unison. As such, they decided to act on their unanimous rage together.
As a child as young as you were, it’s expected to have missed your father. Even in knowing of his faults and abusiveness, you still yearned for his being in your life. This night erased that with entirety.
You spent the rest of that night sobbing in your bed. You trembled under your blankets, your pillow clutched to cover your ears from the sounds of your brother’s screams. You could hear the noises of impact before another scream left him. Or, more worryingly, you wouldn’t hear him getting hit. Just the screams.
Needless to say, that was your last visit to the beach.
And the last time your parents ever trusted you guys enough to leave you home alone.
As the warm water washes over your body, relaxing your tensed muscles, you can’t help but feel that same sense of guilt that you had all those years ago. Lying in your bed, cold and alone, naught but shame crept up your throat.
That same sense of self depreciation embodies you now. For what, however, you’re nescient. It could be for causing Ruben to put on a facade of hatred for the Capitol; it could be for having left Ellie last night due to your own past misery. But both are lucid, right? Ruben knows you hit Nolan for a reason and admitted to having forgiven you. And Ellie is one of the most understanding people you know. Tonight, when the two of you meet on the roof, you’ll explain everything. She’ll listen, as she always does. She’ll forgive you, because that’s the type of person she is.
You didn’t attend training today because you couldn’t seem to pull yourself from bed. 
Last night, after the events on the roof, you snuck into Ruben’s bedroom in the dark of night. Just as you’d promised. The two of you watched a movie, just as you had as kids. It was awkward at first—sitting a few feet away from each other and not speaking a word. But, as time passed, that familiar sense of comfortability overtook you both. This wasn’t Ruben, the morphling Capitol Diamond. This was Ru, your big brother.
You turn off the faucet and wrap yourself in a towel, dripping water onto the tiled floor. The bathroom is huge, stretching to be at least thirty feet long and ten feet wide. The mirrors are fogged and you wipe your hand across the glass to see your reflection. There are bags under your eyes. Part of you wants to cover every inch of your skin in makeup to conceal the lack of sleep you’d gotten. But another, more satisfying, part of you wishes to show up to the Observation room a mess. The Gamemakers love your brother for his beauty. They’re likely itching to get their eyes on you, praying to the heavens that you’ll be just as easily exploited. 
“Hurry up!” Ruben calls through the door. “Your outfit is sitting on the bed.”
Every tribute is to wear an identical outfit so as to not flaunt individuality. To the Capitol, the tributes are no more important to them than a blade of grass crushed beneath their boots. For them to showcase their personalities and feelings would be to make themselves personified, human.
You leave the bathroom, dress into your assigned clothing, and head to the living room. Everyone is already waiting there. Alice is crouched down, fiddling with Remy’s messy curls. Ruben is leaned against the wall, watching. When he spots you, his lips tug upward in fondness. He’s quick to hide it, but not quick enough for it to have gone unnoticed. Not by you at least, perhaps by the cameras though.
“Took you long enough.” He grumbles.
You shoot him a look just as feigned. “I just couldn’t get enough of Capitolistic delicacies. Their showers here are wonderful.”
Ruben has to look away to avoid laughing at your evident sarcasm. Alice looks up, appearing pleased by your display of appreciation, unaware of its insincerity. She stands to her feet, brushing her hands on her frilly skirt. “That’s good to hear, Y/n, I’m glad you’re finding comfort here.”
“As am I.” You smile.
Ruben falls into a coughing fit. You know him well enough to recognize this as a way to hide his laughter—a trick you’d both abused at the dinner table with your parents. When he’d make a comment that went over your father’s head or when you’d make a face to mock your mother. Coughing was always a good way to shield humor.
Once he’s managed to regain sanity and Alice has finished tampering with Remy’s mused curls, the four of you head down to the cafeteria. In the elevator, Ruben turns to you.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” He says.
“It’s just an evaluation,” You roll your eyes at him, “I think I’ll be fine.”
He gives you a pointed look. “I know you. I know you’ll be tempted to do something foolish. All I’m asking is that you don’t act on impulse.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The elevator doors open to reveal a bustling hallway. Tributes, mentors, and escorts walk around. Mentors give their final pieces of advice, escorts attempt to tidy up appearance, and tributes try not to puke from nerves. 
You try to pick out the people you recognize. Nora Harris, the mentor for District Eight, speaks gently with a nervous Raven Hansley. You hardly remember Raven from training because all she did was study plants and animals, never practicing any sort of combat. A few feet down the hall from them, Dina Woodward is braiding Dahlia’s hair. She speaks soothingly to the child, her hands moving with gentility. Even farther down, Abigail Anderson is speaking with Owen Moore—the mentor for District Ten—in a hushed voice. 
Mentors and escorts are prohibited entry into the Observation room. They’re not even allowed into the cafeteria where you’ll wait for your name to be called. They have the choice to either head back to their suite or wait in the hall for their tributes to return. Seems like most of them have yet to enter the cafeteria, even. 
It takes less than a minute before Ruben is pulled into a conversation with another mentor. You turn and recognize her to be Thea Thatcher—Thalia’s older sister. She won the 68th Games. Thea starts small talk with Ruben, which he returns kindly. You find the conversation a bore, though you remain at his side, scowling at her silently. Remy doesn’t dare stray far either, practically clinging to Alice as she starts a conversation with Tilly down the hall. You turn in her direction, squinting. But you don’t see Joel—or Ellie—anywhere. She must already be inside waiting.
Slowly, the crowd begins to disperse. The tributes enter the cafeteria and the mentors either take their leave or remain in wait. You see that Abigail and Owen both leave once their tributes have entered, though Dina stands in the hallway to wait for her youthful tributes’ return. She’ll be waiting a while, though, seeing as they’re from Eleven.
You make a mental note of all the mentors you didn’t see. The ones that likely arrived earlier than everyone else. Teresa Servopoulos from Three, Maria and Joel Miller from Five and Seven, Bill from Nine, and Stephen Lawrence from Twelve. Everyone else, you spotted in the hallway at least once. These are the people who, either don’t give a shit about formalities and didn’t care to show up, or care a lot arrived prematurely.
“C’mon, then.” Ruben says once Thea has long since left. “I think Alice already walked Remy inside, I don’t see either of them.”
You nod in agreement, walking with him down to the cafeteria. You pass Dina, Thea, Nora, and Jordan who have all decided to wait for their tributes. Thea, you can understand, because Thalia is her sister and she’ll return sooner than anyone else seeing as she’s from One. Going back to the suite would be pointless, really. Dina, you know, is big hearted and is waiting because of how young her tributes are. You don’t know much about Nora, but you know one of her tributes is Deaf, so perhaps that’s a reason behind why she’s waiting. You respect Ashley though, you don’t pity her. She’s strong, more so than a lot of the other tributes. You’re sure she’ll make it far in the Games. And Jordan, who is the mentor for Roland and Archie—the lovers from Six—you’re completely unsure of why he’s waiting.
“You’re so nosey.” Ruben says, nudging you along as he notices your staring.
“I’m just observant.” You reply. “It’s a good habit to have.”
“I suppose.” He shrugs before pushing the cafeteria door open for you. Just before you’re able to walk through, he places a hand on your shoulder. You turn to him. “Remember what I said about your impulsiveness. Don’t be reckless.”
You shrug his hand away, giving him an expression of reassurance. “I got it, Ru, don’t worry.”
He nods, though it’s clear that you did little to ease his nervosity. The doors shut behind him and you enter the cafeteria. Large, circular tables are spread across the room. Most people have paired up by District, sitting with their partners from the Reaping. There’s also the Careers, who have already formed their group prior to the Games.
You see where Ellie sits beside Riley. Dahlia has also joined them, appearing to be talking Riley’s ear off. Brows furrowed, you look around for her District partner, Cooper Whitlock. Then you see him and oh. Oh, that poor boy. He’s joined up with the Careers. 
You turn back to where Dahlia sits, only to find that Ellie’s eyes are pinned on you. The hairs on your neck rise at the feel of her gaze piercing straight through you. You know exactly what she’s communicating. With a twitch of her brow, you know. She has no clue why you left last night. Yet you’re both aware that you’re doomed. From the very start, you’re doomed.
You consider walking over there and explaining it. Saying everything that begins to bubble in your throat. But then you catch another sight in your peripheral. Remy. He’s sitting all alone at a small metal table, his leg bouncing with nerves. With one last apologetic glance shot Ellie’s way, you turn on your heel and head toward him.
She’ll understand. She’s kind and compassionate and she will. She will understand when you explain everything tonight. When you explain that your mother’s ghost still haunts you; when you explain that the kiss you shared was rapture incarnate; when you explain that, despite the perfection of the moment, it can never happen again; when you explain that the Games are a wall built to keep the two of you separate, that’s how it is and that’s how it forever will remain. She’ll understand because she’s Ellie and she’s never done anything wrong.
“Thalia Thatcher from District One.” A scratchy voice calls over the intercom. Immediately, the girl stands from her table and walks over to the Observation room with a high held chin. Her hair is platinum blonde and perfectly straight as she walks past your table, brown eyes contorted into a sharp glare. Okay, then. Fuck her too.
It’s twenty minutes before the next name is called. Anthea Solace from One. She spends thirty minutes in the room before Lev from Two is called. Then Yara. Each tribute takes between twenty to forty minutes during evaluation. Throughout it all, the cafeteria is completely silent, waiting for the next name to be announced. This evaluation is the make or break of a tribute’s reputation. It’s the only way to show off your skills prior to the Games. The only way to show the sponsors your skill via the rating you’re given. Nobody will know what happens within the Observation room, but everyone will see the score. It’s imperative that it’s high.
Ellie’s eyes remain pinned on you for the entire two and a half hours that you wait for your name. The whole time, you refuse to look in her direction. You sit beside Remy, your back straightened. His knee has yet to cease its bouncing, eyes blown wide in anxiety. The tension in the room is so high that you’re almost glad to hear your name called.
You stand from the table, the entire cafeteria silent as you walk over to the double doors that lead to the hallway. You push them open and walk down to the Observation room. The door is heavy, though you find that the air within hangs even heavier.
The floors are concrete, walls lined with various weapons to choose from. There are targets for archery and knife throwing, dummies for spears and swords. High above, a small room overlooks the gym. Within it resides the Gamemakers. They sit on plush couches with tables full of warm foods and bubbly drinks. They live in luxury, haphazardly giving scores to tributes without much care. Without thinking of how this can end someone’s life.
They stare down at you with anticipation, expressions ranging from greed to hunger to lust. Your stomach churns as you look up at them. They’re excited. They’re leaning forward to watch you with wide eyes, itching to see what you do. You’re your father’s son, your brother’s sister. You’re bound for greatness and they cannot fucking wait to see you in the arena. Can’t wait to see how you fight to survive. How you look when you’re hungry, when you’re killing someone, when you’re bathing.
What weapon will you grab? How long will you take? What score will you get?
Overcome with disgust and rage for the Capitol, you make an impulsive decision. You hadn’t known, at first, what Ruben meant by recklessness. It was just an evaluation. You walk in, throw a few knives, and leave. But now? Under their beady-eyed appetency? You know exactly what he was telling you not to do. And you do it.
With a scoff, you turn on your heel and exit the room. You won’t give them a show. You don’t feed their yearning stomachs. You won’t provide them with anything they can use against you. You won’t play their Games.
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14:32.
TRAINING CENTER, CAFETERIA.
You only spent a minute in the Observation room. The next name is called almost immediately after you. Ellie’s brow creases in confusion. Everyone else spent roughly half an hour each. And yet, here you are, always managing to stand out.
It irks her.
Yesterday, she’d have been overcome with piqued interest and wide eyes. But not now. Not after you left her last night, didn’t show up to training, and blatantly ignored her in the cafeteria. She knew it would happen. She knew you wouldn’t be able to speak to her. But, for some reason, it still pisses her off to know that you value your reputation above her.
And she knows it’s stupid. You two have only known each other for three days and spent the majority of our time together illegally smoking. But still. And she’s even more angry at herself for being angry in the first place.
Another hour passes before Riley’s name is called. She doesn’t say a word, standing from the table and leaving silently. They’ve still yet to speak. And that adds yet another weight on Ellie’s chest. It’s too much all at once and she thinks the tonnage might crush her like an insect. 
“Are you nervous?” Dahlia’s voice is below a whisper as she speaks.
Ellie gives her a small smile. “Everyone is.”
“Even the strong people over there?” She nods toward the Careers—Lev, Yara, Nolan, Thalia, Violetta, Ashley, and little Cooper. Ellie has no idea why they allowed Cooper into their group, but it can’t be good. Whatever it means, it’ll lead to his demise in the end.
“Yes.” Ellie confirms. “Even them.” Dahlia nods, attempting to ground herself. Just then, the intercom clicks on and a distorted voice comes through the buzzing speaker. “Ellie Williams from District Seven.” She pats Dahlia on the shoulder before standing to her feet. 
Riley spent thirty four minutes in the Observation room. Ellie wishes they still spoke because she’s dying to know what she did. She wishes they could sneak into each other’s room and share their respective stories from the evaluation. But that’s not possible, not now. She enters the room with a sigh.
She doesn’t even look at the Gamemakers before she walks over to the bows and arrows. She can hear their chatter, but pays them no mind. She stands on the white line painted a few yards away from the target. Bow in hand, she holds it out in front of her. She shuts one eye, pulling the arrow back. With a grin at knowing it’ll land perfectly, she lets it fly. Just as anticipated, the point of the arrow lands right on the target. Perfect aim.
Her heart beats fast in her chest. Maybe she’ll get a high score. She looks up at the Gamemaker’s room only to see they’re not even looking at her. They’re getting drunk, talking and laughing together over hearsay. Anger traces through her body, igniting within her bones.
Not a single one watched her.
There’s a fancy lightbulb hanging from the ceiling on a thin chain. It’s the only source of light in their little room. Without thinking, she grabs a second arrow and aims it upward. Urged by vexation alone, she pulls it back as far as it’ll go before releasing it.
The arrow wizzes through the air before the point collides with the thin chain, snapping it easily.
The bulb falls to the floor, glass shattering all around the room. The Gamemakers fall silent within the blackened room. With shock, their heads turn toward the tribute of cause. They hadn’t even been keeping up with who was in the room. But here she is. Ellie Williams. 
She scowls at them deeply for a moment before slamming the wooden bow onto the floor and storming out of the room without dismissal. She slams the door behind her loud enough to cause the mentors waiting in the hall to jolt. They all appear annoyed. Except for Dina Woodward, who looks more amused than irritated. Ellie hates her. 
Well, that was dramatic. She doesn’t have Dina. She hates everything. The residual anger in her body is so overwhelmingly vast that it clouds her vision and tightens her throat. She can hear the muffled announcement of Raven Hansley’s name being called as she enters the elevator. She punches the number seven button. When the doors slide open, her anger hasn’t so much as inched lower. If anything, it seems to be growing. Her hands are shaking and she can’t puzzle out why.
“How was it?” Tilly asks as soon as she enters the suite. She’d barely had time to fucking breathe before the woman is on her. 
Ellie shoots her a glare. “You’ll find out along with everyone else when the scores are revealed.”
“Oh,” Tilly frowns, “Well, then.”
Ellie brushes past her. Joel and Riley are in the sitting room, likely talking about how her evaluation went. Normally, Ellie would rush to join them as she’s eager to hear about Riley’s experience. But not now. Not when her emotions are swallowing her whole.
She enters her room, accidentally slamming the door behind her. She tears the outfit off her body, the high neckline feeling as though it’s choking her. She changes into something more comfortable, opting to spend the next few hours in her bedroom until she has to watch the scores be announced.
She sits at her desk, sketching random items. But nothing looks right. The lines are too choppy, the lighting is completely abstract. She ends up balling up twenty pages before she gives up.
Why is she so mad? It’s no shock, really, that the Gamemakers weren’t paying her any mind. She halfway expected it. There wasn’t that high of a chance that they'd be anticipating her arrival. That they’d give a damn about tributes like her—tributes that weren’t you. She wonders how your evaluation went. Did you walk in, give them a charming smile, and leave? She wouldn’t put it past you. The Capitolites would eat that up. You’d easily earn a fucking twelve for flashing them a grin.
That’s when it registers.
She’s not mad, she’s overwhelmed. All the shit from these past few days is finally coming crashing down on her. That would explain that shaky hands and ragged breathing. She tries a different approach. Instead of forcing herself to sit still and draw something, she lies on her bed and allows her mind to swarm.
Marlene. What was the first thing that she thought when she heard Ellie’s name called? Did her breath hitch? Did her eyes water? Did she feel like her child was being ripped away? Or did she just avert her gaze, not wishing to witness the effects of the Capitol infiltrate into her personal life?
Riley. What the hell is going on inside her head? For the majority of Ellie’s life, she could easily read what she was thinking. She could decipher each and every thought that brushed through her mind. To have been stripped of that, to have a security blanket torn from her? She feels bare and vulnerable. She doesn’t have her best friend to run to, she doesn’t have anyone to confide in.
Which is likely why she found such comfort in you. From the moment she got on that train in Seven, she was advised to stay as far away from you as possible. She was told that you were from a family of murderers and had such blood in your veins. Yet, she refused to heed that warning. She met up with you in secret, smoking illegally with the cigarettes Joel was kind enough to lend her. She confided in you because she was dumb enough to think you’d done the same. But who’s to say you weren’t spouting complete lies? Nobody knows anything about you. Each word that left your mouth could have been untrue and Ellie would have absolutely no way of knowing. Despite this, she kissed you. Or you kissed her. Whatever the small details may be, your lips met nonetheless. 
Which brings her to Cat. For the first time, she allows herself to truly contemplate all that happened regarding her. Sure, the relationship itself was never set in stone. Yes, everything they shared was built on sand. And yes, she ended up slipping right through Ellie’s fingers. But it still felt real. She still cared for her and loved her. Cat explained everything in the Justice Building, Ellie simply hadn't been listening. She was blinded by her own sorrow to recognize that Cat was acting for her. She was acting out of love. She ended things with Ellie because she knew that continuing would only add more layers of  complication. Ellie would go into the arena with a lover back home. No. Not back home. Here, in the Capitol. A stylist. Her stylist. God, how fucked up is that? If anyone were to figure that out, they could both be arrested. Turned into enslaved, muted Avoxes. 
Cat did what she did for Ellie. And she returned the favor by kissing you. By abandoning what they had for you—someone who doesn’t give a single damn about her. Someone who plans on killing her as soon as you’re put into the arena together. How stupid could she be? She needs to get her head screwed on right. She needs to stop evading her feelings to chase momentary bliss. 
A knock at her door grounds her.
Good. 
She needs to explain everything to Joel and Alice. She needs to tell them that she’d just fucked up any chance she had at obtaining sponsors. The Gamemakers are sure to give her a low rank. They might even punish Ellie by killing Marlene—as a way to show that defying the Capitol never ends well. She needs to tell Joel. Maybe he can do something. He’s good at this stuff, right?
Ellie opens her door to see Joel in the doorway. 
“Perfect.” She speaks.
He raises a brow. “What’re you on about?”
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“I dunno how much time we’ve got.” He rubs the back of his neck, unsure. “They’re ‘bout to air the evaluation scores. I was supposed t’ come get’cha.”
“I’ll be quick.” She promises.
And then she tells him about the evaluation. How she shot an arrow right at the Gamemakers, successfully shattering the lightbulb. Joel looks absolutely appalled, so she hurries to continue speaking before he has the chance. She explains her relationship with Marlene—how she’d raised her, but isn’t technically her mother—and asks him if he thinks the Capitol will punish her for what Ellie did today. 
Once she’s finished, Joel just stares at her for a few seconds. “God, kiddo, you sure know how t’ get into an assload o’ trouble.”
“Answer the question.” She says. “Will they do anything to her?”
“Nah.” He shakes his head, plunging his hands in the front pockets of his worn out jeans. “They ain’t gonna kill your ma. They won’t do anythin’ to her unless ya win. If you die in the Games, there’s no point in hurtin’ her. All it’ll do is cost ‘em money. If ya win, though, they can punish her. But I doubt they will. ‘Specially if they end up likin’ you.”
“Well.” Ellie frowns. “I doubt I’ll be winning this year.”
“‘N’ why’s that?”
“There’s no hope for anyone who’s put into an arena with a L/n.” She says. “You know that.”
He shrugs. “Well, I’ve got some good news for ya then.” She raises a brow. “What are you talking about?”
“I heard from a few o’ the other mentors that Y/n did absolutely terrible on her evaluation.” He tells her, voice lowered, like they’re sharing a secret. It reminds her of Dahlia. That girl is always saying things she shouldn't. “They say that she walked in, stood there for a sec’, then walked right on out.”
“Hm.” Ellie thinks on this for a moment.
She knows you went in for less than a minute because she heard how fast they called for the next tribute. But she didn’t wonder if you’d somehow fucked up, she just always assumed that everything you did was genius and intentional.
“C’mon, kiddo.” Joel says, patting her shoulder. “Tilly ‘n’ Riley are dyin’ to see the scores.”
She nods, following him down the hall to the sitting room. Surely enough, they’re both already on the couch waiting for Joel to have fetched Ellie. Riley is in an armchair talking to Tilly, who is sitting on the long couch. Joel takes the other armchair, forcing Ellie to sit beside Tilly.
On the screen, a news reporter is talking about the tributes, working up the audience’s excitement levels. His hair is bright green, just like all the other Capitol people she’s seen thus far. Such an odd fashion trend, vibrancy.
“—And, without further ado, here are the scores.”
The screen travels in order, scrolling down to show each tribute. It has a picture of their face on the right, their name and score placed on the left. Thalia earns an eight, Anthea earns a four. Lev and Yara both get the same score, a nine. Sam receives a six, Henry a seven. Then there’s you. 
“What!?” Tilly blurts out as she sees your score, her upside down eyes blown wide in shock. Even Riley looks taken aback by the number. Joel just chuckles, leaning back with a small grin.
A one. You earned a one. 
The lowest score anyone could possibly obtain and you, a L/n, has managed to get it. The commentator even sounds unsure on what to say, happy to continue scrolling through the tributes. He moves down a bit quicker, trying to get your appalling number off the screen. Remy earned a five, which the news reporter is more than glad to offer comments on. 
Joel must’ve been right. You walked in there and did nothing. Ellie would usually be amused by this, impressed even. But instead, she’s just irritated. You seriously thought you could just waltz in there and get an astonishingly high number. Fucking ego.
Ariadne got a nine, Selene got an eight. Archie earned a five and Roland earned a six. 
And then there’s Riley. She got an eight. Tilly compliments her, grinning widely at the high score. Joel says something kind as well, though he gives Ellie a strange look. Perhaps he’s recalling what she did, knowing her score is next. It’s a bit comforting to know she won’t get lower than you. That’d be impossible. At least she did something.
Her picture comes on the screen alongside her name. Then her number.
An Eleven!
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[post] notes!! Okokok idk if I explained any of that well. At all. 😣 Their emotions are so hard to write because THEY don't even know wtf is going on. If u already get the gist of their inner monologue u can skip this, if not I'm gonna give a brief rundown to try & explain a bit better without their mental bias:: Yn is easier to explain so I'll be doing hers first. She thinks that Ellie is an absolute saint - which we all know is #FALSE, but since she's been thru so much as a kid and was so blatantly neglected of attention & love, she instinctively clings to whoever provides her with that (hence her attachment to Ruben and her unknowingly forming attachment to Ellie). Since she and Ellie spent so much time together (it was literally 2 days & a total of like 3 hrs MAX), and she grew to trust her enough to confide in her, she now deems her to be, as I said, a SAINT. Which is why, in her POV, we see her brushing off Ellie's staring & everything bc she's under the impression that Ellie will understand her if she explains. Ellie, on the other hand, is far more complex than merely thinking "omg shes so awesome I trust her, she'll understand! woohoo!". No, Ellie is torn - which was hard to write bc she's unaware of her own division. She trusts and cares for Yn, as anyone in her position would. I mean, shit, we saw the way she literally SWOONED over everything that girl did. But, due to her instantaneous attraction to her, Ellie has now been let down even more harshly. Or, in relation to her Icarus metaphor, "the higher you fly, the farther you fall" and needless to say Ellie flew really high really fast. Which was 100% her fault, but she's under so much pressure that she takes out all the built up frustration induced by Riley, Marlene, the Games, the Evaluation, EVERYTHING, on Yn. Well,, mentally. She's yet to do anything outward. So yeah. Yn thinks Ellie is a perfect angel & Ellie thinks Yn is the devil who's to fault for all things bad. But neither of them know what the other is thinking. YAY! So excited to see how they (healthily) handle this!! ☺️
⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo.     @ilovewomenfr.     @zzombiegirl.     @elliessweetheart.     @shawangel.     @defnoteleonor.     @fatbootymuncher.     @autisticintr0vert. 
⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 series taglist @kirammanss.  @dsybouquet.   @serraphinm.   @smellovie.   @sakiigami.   @opt1mistic.   @spacecinnamonbuns.   @clouded-whispers.    @sappicarribean.   @corpsebridenightmare.     @jaliyah-s.    @pixiec4t.    @chappellroankisser.   @mxquelo.    @vahnilla.     @moshuka.    @cupidluvzz.    @elliewilliamssrealgf.    @h4-rt3s.    @tmbpyv.     @prwttiestbunnies.    @jinxtheplanet.    @sevyscoven.    @iheartclairo66.    @rxreaqia. @abby-anderson-wifey @imdeletingthisaccount1.
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becauseimanicequeen · 11 months ago
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In Defense of Ji from To Be Continued
(Or “Let’s Look at Characters From a More Non-Binary Perspective”)
I’ve been thinking about writing a post like this since the 5th episode last week (but haven’t gotten around to it). But after reading a couple of comments with the general consensus that Ji’s actions were at the risk of becoming irredeemable, I felt like there was no time like the present. Better late than never, right? (This is a long one, so I’ll put most of it after a break with a TL;DR at the end.)
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(Btw, that purple light between them is so well placed. They're clearly not communicating, symbolized by that line being drawn between them. And the purple, a mix of blue (trust and loyalty) and red (love and fate), symbolizes the mysterious and unresolved feelings they're both having (or are beginning to have) towards each other. )
The response to Ji and Achi that I’ve seen has been interesting. The little response I’ve seen (since I haven’t seen this series being talked about that much, or perhaps I’m just bad at searching for it) was utter annoyance with Achi the first few episodes until we were shown that Ji made Achi cry in the past and (mostly) everyone I’ve seen writing about this turned on Ji all of a sudden.
(It’s hilarious to see how easily viewers change their opinions. I mean that genuinely. Some of that is more entertaining than many QLs I’ve watched.)
My mindset isn’t that binary, though. (I don’t see things in either black or white because that’s too limiting for me.) That means that I’m neither for nor against either Achi or Ji. (I can definitely like one character more than another, but that doesn’t mean that character is “better” than any other. And in this particular case, I like Ji and Achi equally.) It just annoys me a bit when a character gets torn to shreds for an isolated scene or situation (akin to the whole Non vs Jin situation in DFF, which got waaaaay out of hand).
(Obviously, this is by no means a call for deep analysis of characters–essay style–every time anyone wants to say something about a character. But I do feel like taking an isolated situation out of context means that the meaning, however differently all of us interpret that meaning, gets lost.)
Based on what we’ve seen so far in To Be Continued, both Achi and Ji have made mistakes (in the past and present), they are both terrible at communicating, both are clearly confused and/or terrified of their feelings (especially towards each other), and it seems like no one wants to be the first to fess up. That’s the general situation of their relationship in the series so far.
A discussion on who’s at “fault” for Ji and Achi’s current situation based on what I just listed is pretty much unnecessary because they’re both equally responsible. However, since it’s so easy to play the blame game and spread it like wildfire on the internet just because there’s a character one doesn’t like or see eye to eye with, I thought it was a good idea to include it in this post anyway. Especially since my answer is based on my non-binary way of thinking. (Spoiler alert: it’s not either/or, it’s both/and.)
(I’m putting fault between quotation marks because I feel like its connotation is too negative when something like responsible would suit better. But since fault is often thrown around when playing the blame game, I’ll stick to that word.)
If we look at Ji and Achi’s actions (the ones we’ve seen so far), I feel like 3 moments stand out:
Achi pestering Ji in the first few episodes even though Ji said he wanted nothing to do with Achi. (Present)
Ji asked Achi to introduce him to Pear. (Past)
The mixed signals both of them are giving each other. (Past and present)
I’ve previously written a post about Achi choosing not to respect Ji’s boundaries (even when clearly stated), so I won’t go too deep into that. What I will mention here, however, is that it doesn’t matter how desperate Achi is in trying to keep Ji close. Breaking someone else’s boundaries is not okay. Whenever someone needs space, it should (ideally) be respected.
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Achi is being way too pushy in the first couple of episodes, and he’s not even communicating why that is. I think he says once (or twice?) that he’s missed Ji all these 10 years they’ve been apart and that he wants to know how Ji's been, but that’s no excuse.
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If you doubt that some space would make any difference, look at how Ji reacted during that whole montage of Ji finding those bags with food (or whatever it was) that Achi hung on his door in ep. 5. And those notes they write to each other when exchanging those bags is probably the best line of communication they’ve had since they got to know each other. That’s how much can change if a person’s boundaries are respected.
(Sure, you could argue that it was a result of Ji showing respect first when he thanked Achi for coming over with food in the scene before the montage. Sometimes you need to first give what you want to get, and that “thank you” to Achi might've made Achi realize he could back off without being terrified of losing Ji (or whatever his reason for being so persistent is).)
When it comes to my second point above (Ji asking Achi to introduce him to Pear), it’s very interwoven with the third point (the mixed signals both of them are giving).
In the whole montage of them going on that day trip and playing games and stuff in the past (ep. 3), you can clearly see that there are feelings involved from both of them (whatever that may be; friendship, fondness, curiosity, love, whatever). But every time Ji looked at Achi (especially when they were at one of those lookout points with a beautiful view), Achi turned away. I mean, if you look at that whole jacket scene, you can see that he literally steps back and avoids Ji’s gaze.
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Ji doesn’t seem to mind though, it’s not like he’s surprised or worried about it. But it still doesn’t change the fact that Achi is giving him mixed signals. Achi is both hot (giving Ji his jacket when Ji’s cold) and cold (stepping away and avoiding Ji’s gaze when Ji is looking and smiling at him).
And then there’s the scene on the pier/jetty at the end of episode 4 (which is also from the past). This happens after Ji asked Achi to introduce him to Pear (which I still believe was very innocent at first because Ji seemed genuinely interested in her, and there’s nothing wrong with that).
On that pier/jetty, Ji is tentatively trying to figure out how Achi is feeling because he can sense the tension (at least that’s how I interpret it). Ji does so by first asking Achi if he has feelings for Pear (because that could be a logical explanation for the tension), but Achi says he doesn’t. That’s when Ji has this look on his face:
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It’s like he’s trying to think of another reason for the tension, which I think is what leads to the moment when he says that Achi’s got pretty eyes, nose, and lips.
I feel like he’s being genuine here. At the same time as he’s trying to figure out what the tension is all about, he’s also giving Achi an opportunity to clear things up, to be honest with Ji, and for both of them to get closer.
Then Ji lays his head on Achi’s chest as if to listen to his heartbeat (perhaps listening for an answer rather than being told, because we already know that their m.o. isn’t communication).
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Achi is swayed for a moment, but he still chooses to change the subject and ends up leaving the pier/jetty (once again giving Ji mixed signals, especially after looking at Ji with heart eyes only moments before).
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Achi’s reaction is probably based on a fear of being rejected since he thinks that Ji is interested in Pear, so it makes sense. But, even though his actions make sense, he’s still choosing to participate in giving off mixed signals.
(I mean, if someone looked at me with hearts in their eyes and then avoided me like the plague when I wanted to get closer, I would ditch the bitch. But, this isn’t about me…)
What’s interesting (and something I think some viewers are forgetting) is that this scene from the past is mirrored in the scene in Ji’s bedroom earlier in the same episode (which is in the present). In the present, it’s Achi who says that he thinks Ji’s eyes, nose, and lips are pretty (confessing to Ji only when he thinks Ji is sleeping, which seems to be his m.o., btw).
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But then he repeats it when Ji asks him what he said.
I feel like Achi is trying to bring back that moment from the past because he knows he missed an opportunity to be honest about his feelings at that moment on the pier/jetty. The difference is that this time it leads to them kissing (a kiss that should never have happened until they had cleared up their shit, btw, but who can stop these two confused, love-sick, adorable idiots? Well, the screenwriters can, but what would be the fun in that? I digress…).
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This time, Ji is the one who breaks the moment. He knows just as well as Achi where those words came from. He remembers that moment on the pier/jetty in the past just as well as Achi. And I swear that he remembers the rejection too.
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It’s possible those memories were too much for Ji. It’s also possible that he realized the kiss wasn’t a good idea (he has shown previously that he’s not okay with Achi just kissing him, like in ep. 2). And as we saw with the previous kiss, it takes Ji a moment or two before he realizes what happens an/or realizes the implications of what’s happening (it took him a moment before he pushed Achi away in ep. 2, and the same here in ep. 4 before he pulled back).
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So, who’s at “fault” here? Who’s at “fault” for creating more tension (and hurt feelings) between them?
Is Achi at “fault” considering he brought up the past when mirroring that moment on the pier/jetty? Is he at “fault” considering he initiated the kiss in Ji's bedroom (he was the one who leaned forward first and the one who held onto Ji with both hands/arms)?
Is Ji at “fault” considering he rejected Achi? Is he at “fault” considering he told Achi to leave his bedroom after the kiss (clearly needing some space)?
And don’t come at me with the whole “but Ji hurt Achi’s feelings by hitting on Pear, not to mention taking her to the same movie that Achi took Ji to.”
First of all, was that a conscious choice of Ji’s? Possibly. Was this the best way to go about it? Debatable. But it should be said that Ji got interested in Pear before he started sensing the tension between him and Achi. It was all good feelings before that (and it could be that Ji didn’t think his relationship with Achi was beyond friendship, because delusion and confusion are every teenager’s middle names).
Secondly, on that same pier/jetty in that same scene in ep. 4, Ji mentions that he doesn’t like romantic movies, whereas Achi says that it might be because he’s never been in love. Is it then so far-fetched that he takes Pear to that same movie (which I assume is a romance) to test out if he sees the movie with new eyes now that he’s with Pear? Not really.
(Could he have chosen another romantic movie? Sure. Was there another romance playing at the time? I have no fucking idea because this is fiction and they didn’t tell us and we’re probably supposed to read between the lines that it was a romance and that Ji was influenced by Achi’s words and I’m totally getting off track here…)
Thirdly, and probably the most important point: Let’s not forget that there’s actually a possibility that Ji is bi (the same goes for Achi who had some sort of relationship with… what’s her name, Mona?).
I know it’s difficult in this generally binary-thinking world to understand there’s a possibility of something in the middle of black or white. You’re either gay or straight, right? Wrong! There’s such a thing as bi- and pansexuality. And since we’re living in such a binary-thinking world, it’s easy to be hella confused as bi- or pansexual.
(I won’t go into the bi-hate that viewers spew out in comments and reactions to QLs, especially when the lead roles are bi (and especially when they are together with or hook up with the opposite sex), but it’s so fucking annoying. I want to write a post about this one day, or reblog someone else's post who might’ve written about it better than I ever will, so if anyone knows a post on this, send it my way.)
If Ji is a bi character, can you blame him for being confused? If he’s not bi but is having his gay awakening, can you blame him for being confused?
Can you blame him for asking Achi to introduce him to Pear, especially since Achi has never expressed his romantic interest in Ji and Ji seems genuinely interested in Pear? Can you really blame Ji for trying to figure out what the fuck is going on with Achi when he notices the tension between them?
Can you really blame Ji for not being able to read between the lines (has anyone forgotten he’s a teenager?)?
And I’m not saying all this to say that it’s Achi’s “fault” either. He’s just as confused as Ji. And none of them are brave enough to take the first step to clear things up either.
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Again, it’s both Ji and Achi’s “fault” that things are the way they are. They are both responsible for their situation.
There’s still much to be revealed in this series, so a lot of it is still up for speculation right now. Clearly, however, something happened that made them go their separate ways and be out of contact with each other for 10 years.
If I were to put my money on a bet, it would be that they split because of a misunderstanding on both their parts. What that misunderstanding is, though, remains to be seen.
(If I were to guess I think they hooked up, Ji was confused and needed some space to process, and Achi took it as a rejection and left the country (since we’ve seen that his mother lives in the US). But I'm probably wrong.)
Ji's actions, so far, are not irredeemable (he’s not even on the verge of being irredeemable). And if they were, Achi’s actions would be just as irredeemable.
It’s easy to play the blame game, especially in today’s world. It’s a lot more difficult to be open-minded. But the latter will always be more rewarding.
TL;DR: Both Achi and Ji have made mistakes, they are both terrible at communicating, and both are clearly confused and/or terrified of their feelings. No one is at “fault” for their current situation because they’re both responsible for it.
*stepping down from my soapbox*
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laidbacklightwood · 12 hours ago
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"I didn't say it wouldn't be shocking. Just that it wouldn't be as shocking as you guys are claiming. That's all. Even if there was no chance of us ever breaking up though, we both needed to be ready for marriage in order for me to propose to Wyatt. So I don't feel like I took too long to do it. I did it at the right time." He argued, not directed at one specific brother. It was to them both as they seemed to be on the same side here with everything involving his relationship with Wyatt. It was actually bit annoying for Agron having to defend himself, particularly over how long he took to propose to his now fiancé. However, apparently he wasn't the only one annoyed currently.
Agron chuckled and shook his head in amusement to Alexa shitting on the nickname he came up with for him. Well at least his younger brother couldn't say he didn't try, though he was already gonna stop using it for him anyway. That's why he said nothing in response to it. What he was going to respond to was all the other stuff Alexa said, though Nasir got to do it before he could. So he waited until for him to finish before finally speaking again. "Ok, ignoring what Nasir just said about the pack because that's something we should really get into at another time..." He let out a sigh before continuing. "He's probably right though on how you should handle things with Akira. With that being said, we'll drop it for now if you want us to, Alexa, so we can go back to making today all about me by celebrating the Lightwood way. Meaning teasing me throughout the rest of the day and other fun stuff. However, just know then that we will also be talking about this at another time too."
Agron then closed the gap between them to kiss Alexa's cheek and then place both of his hands gently on his shoulders in a comforting way. "Nasir and I both care about you, Alexa. We want to see you happy too. Especially when it comes to potential any boyfriends. So please, don't keep this from us. You can talk to us about what's going on with Akira or any other guy you end up being into. We want to hear about it and be there for you if you're upset or frustrated with whatever the situation is with a guy. Promise."
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@theburningsunofalex
"I would be. That's like saying Bratt Pitt and Jennifer Aniston breaking up wasn't shocking, and yes it was." Alexander said. He was quite verse in pop culture. He knew Nasir wasn't. Agron...that was debatable. What was debatable was Agron's nickname for him. "Lexi? That's worse than Alexa so please don't and no I'm not pining over him or whatever your shitty sources are telling you Nasir." He then turned back at Agron to who he was glaring at. "And we are stopping the questionary right there. Today it is all about you, not non-existent relationship with Akira who pretty much is being very annoying because he is friends with Alistair, yet has a problem dating a hunter that hasn't even done once hunting job since coming here." Alexander sighed. He said too much. "Forget I said that, Agron congratulations to your engagement. I'm glad you have found your person. I think Nasir and I can both agree that you two will bloom into a beautiful marriage." He said, "And that I need to meet him outside of holiday parties."
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@lightwoodreborn
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employee052 · 3 months ago
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idk, crowsx3 design??? sdkjfh
the heads are all made of porcelain, and can rotate like that one horror short film with kevan brighting voicing in it
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reallyhardy · 11 months ago
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Sorry what’s up w the Ethan slater stuff? I know him only from your posts / SpongeBob stuff
HI HELLO please buckle in
yep -- the same guy from the spongebob musical, and my posts abut the spongebob musical.
he blew up completely and now the general public knows him as 'ariana grande's new boyfriend' - their relationship seems to have started off the back of co-starring in the upcoming wicked musical film adaptation.
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it's just been like. a monkey's paw curling sort of a way for him to get catapulted to fame, as i had always really enjoyed him as a performer (as spongebob, yes, but also in the other roles i'd seen him in,) and my biggest hope back around 2017 was that he would continue in and be really successful in theatre, get a lot of broadway roles, maybe take on some existing parts i thought he'd really suit, like seymour in little shop or ogie in waitress.......... but instead he booked the role of boq from wicked in a massive hollywood film production instead, where he met ariana grande. THE ariana grande.
and then yeah. at some point, he and grande broke up with their respective partners, (slater leaving both his wife AND newborn son) jumped into a new relationship, and now the whole wider internet knows who he is but certainly not for the right reasons.
there's been speculation regarding whether or not grande and slater had cheated on their previous partners before their relationship began with various sources coming out of the woodwork saying "yes they did" and others saying "no they didn't" -- humans are all perfectly capable of making stuff up, the media especially, so i simply don't know who to trust and i admit it had completely shattered my whole good impression of him - PLUS it gave the wider internet an absolutely awful first impression of him, resulting in, yeah, the (frankly, unflattering, sometimes downright cruel) memes of him popping up on twitter and, as i discovered yesterday, in non-theatre youtubers' videos who would literally never have heard of him if not for the slater-grande romance 🥲
FULL COVERAGE of the situation as it was happening can all be found on the lovely @notasimpleslater's blog under the tag 'ozgate' if you want to delve deeper!
#loren talks#ethan slater#months later let's call this my actual full response/reaction lol#i think at the time this was going down at the end of 2023 i was sort of just Freaking Out like my blood was boiling lol#i was parasocially furious with both of them#ofc now i do realise i'd put him on something of a pedestal#having seen his cute posts about his then wife an former childhood sweetheart plus posts welcoming his new son#AND having watched a youtube mini-series he'd made with his then-brother-in-law. i was SO invested and then.#i was like OH. he really DESTROYED his family huh.#but ofc! every situation is nuanced. we don't know what went on behind the scenes#wrg to his relationship. or what grande's was like with her ex-husband#since everything came to light there's been articles stating that slater wants to work with his ex-wife to share custody of their child#and that he's been spotted backstage WITH his son at spamalot on broadway (his current production)#so it sugggests he's not trying to be an Absent Father#which tracks with some of his own artwork as he and nick blaemire DID write a whole musical about the strained relationship between#a father and son and i just feel like. that suggests something about his personal character. and makes me HOPE he'd want to#be a present and loving parent regardless of circumstance.#anyways.#it's simply not my business BUT. seeing his face#popping up every now and again#it does just. feel extremely weird haha#there's a part of me that's like oh but that's musical spongebob my bestie what's he doing here#as for ariana i really have never had a strong opinion of her#but i have to say hearing her songs out and about these days...... :') i could do without it
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scientia-rex · 2 years ago
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A whole lot of people think that whatever it is THEY feel entitled to, they feel that way for a TRUE and JUST reason, and not like those OTHER people who feel entitled to things they DON'T deserve!
Every human being should be entitled to water, food, shelter, medical care, and education, in that order.
You are not entitled to my time, my attention, my energy, just because I happened to post a thing and you exist. Yes, I posted it on the Internet! Yes, I need to accept that the natural consequence of that is people responding to it. But you don't deserve a reply just because you think you ought to get one for being such a good little tumblr user who engaged with my content, because I am not primarily a content creator and I don't have to abide by those rules.
You aren't my boss. You don't pay me. So think about customer service rules--those apply to your beloved content creators who do make their money off Internet engagement--and then think about how you'd talk to a woman sitting at a bus stop who made one comment (generally into the vicinity rather than to you specifically) about the weather and then went back to reading her book, because those are wildly different rules.
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thechaoticfanartist · 1 year ago
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i once heard someone describe it as ‘pre-grief’. their pet was very elderly and didn’t have long left so they were experiencing that grieving-before-grieving a lot. giving the feeling a name like pre-grief made it easier to process and live with.
Pre-grief is probably a very fitting name for what I'm feeling. I still probably wouldn't want to call it that though because I don't want to think it'll happen, I'm just terrified it will.
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whydoifeelthisquiet · 1 year ago
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I just saw someone post about Gaza, describe the horrors going on there, and call for action. And some of the comments were saying “I’ve followed you and loved you for so long, I’m so disappointed you don’t support Israel”…WHAT in the cognitive dissonance is wrong with people?????
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ekingston · 1 month ago
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SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).
I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.
IN SHORT
Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.
When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 
his dyslexia; 
his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 
a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,
as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.
When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 
THE TAKEAWAYS
1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 
2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 
3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 
THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)
Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):
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This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)
I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:
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Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.
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I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 
I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.
After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.
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While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:
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And then I went to bed.
By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:
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@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.
That response came only an hour or so later: 
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Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.
I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.
A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)
A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.
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Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.
Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :
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Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):
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which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)
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... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)
After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 
It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:
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And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.
That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:
They were completed works;
They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and
They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.
If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!
I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.
I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.
Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***
That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.
Sooo—
We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 
This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:
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Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.
Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.
THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):
*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 
**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 
***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.
PLEASE check my later versions of this post via my main page to make sure you have the latest version of this post before you reblog. All the information I’ve been able to gather is in my reblogs below, and it's frustrating to see the old version getting passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.
Thank you all so much!
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evie-doesnt-write · 3 months ago
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riding-with-the-wild-hunt · 3 months ago
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compiling some mutual aid projects and nonprofits working in sudan. though depending on where you get your news you may not see very much coverage of the unfolding crisis, millions of people are in danger every day as the situation continues to deteriorate. i've been really astounded by the scale of your response to the earlier list of gazan initiatives, and i hope you extend the same support to these organizations too!
khartoum aid kitchen - currently running 12 community kitchen sites and supporting five others that collectively provide food for over 10,000 people
fill a heart - provides financial support to sudanese hospitals and families displaced in egypt. updates are available on their instagram.
sudan solidarity collective - supporting civil society organizations and providing psychological and educational programs for displaced people. can also donate through their paypal
darfur women action - runs programs for displaced women and girls
sudanese american physicians association - provides medical treatment and supports healthcare infrastructure
amal for women - currently focused on providing water, food, hygiene products, and shelter for displaced people. general projects include education programs for children, support and professional training for single mothers, and providing trauma care. also has a gofundme
hadhreen - provides food, water, solar panels for hospitals, children's educational programming, and a variety of other support services
hometax - provides necessities for displaced people, including food, shelter, and medical assistance. updates can be found on their instagram.
barana hanabneiho - originally focused on rebuilding and equipping schools, currently providing food, water, tents, mosquito nets, and weather-appropriate necessities to displaced people. they have an instagram and also accept donations through zeffy
saving algeneina initiative - provides a variety of necessities, including food, rain covers for tents, and medical care. works with displaced people in both sudan and chad.
sudanese red crescent society - runs health programs across all 18 states as well as delivering essential supplies
sadagaat - various initiatives including water stations and community kitchens
hope relief and rehabilitation for disabilities support (hrrds) - originally focused on disability justice programs. currently providing food, water, hygiene products, mobility aids, and other necessities with a focus on supporting disabled people and other vulnerable groups
medglobal's sudan emergency appeal - provides medical supplies, equipment for doctors, and fuel for hospitals
sudanese american medical association - provides food, water, and medical equipment, as well as training clinicians and sending extra doctors to hospitals
siha network - provides menstrual products and obstetric/gynecological care
as before, this is not an exhaustive list, so please feel free to add any similar initiatives or organizations you know of. and as always please donate whatever amount you can and share! every small action makes a difference, even if it feels inconsequential to you.
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sarcosmiiic · 2 months ago
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PLEASE KEEP THIS IN MIND:
we, as fans, do not have a right to private information. anything shared with us on this is a privilege. please do not abuse it. the cc's could shut down and never talk about it if we overwhelm them.
also, please keep in mind that ONE HERMIT and THE ENTIRETY OF HERMITCRAFT are NOT THE SAME THING. the entire fandom is not 'ruined' or 'completely unsafe' because of the actions of one person.
PLEASE DO NOT ASSUME THAT THE OTHER HERMITS KNEW ANYTHING ABOUT WHATEVER'S GOING ON WITH ISKALL. this is not some big conspiracy, it's the consequences of one person's actions. they weren't hiding this from us, that's not how hermitcraft works, they truly didn't know. they probably knew as much as us about this, so making it an 'us against them' situation is immature and shortsighted.
ALSO, I AM BEGGING EVERYONE TO PLEASE NOT SENSATIONALIZE THIS. PLEASE DO NOT TURN HATING ISKALL INTO A MEME OR A JOKE.
mcyt'ers being revealed to be less-than-great people is not a rare thing, sadly, but i've seen it turned into a joke/meme/trend in other fandoms. this both minimalizes the actual people's/victims' struggles, makes the entire situation feel less serious than it is, especially to outsiders looking in, and makes everyone in the fandom look immature, petty, unable to take anything seriously, and genuinely harmful.
this server, fandom, and community are not dying, it is not ruined forever, this is one (major, i'm not trying to minimalize it) issue that we're currently dealing with. it will be okay. we will move on. this is not the beginning of the end. please calm down. i love this fandom, god bless all of you. <3
edit: doc has said on stream that we will likely get more information as time passes. like i said, this is a PRIVILEGE. we are not OWED information. please be grateful for what we're given, and POLITELY ask questions if you must. if a cc doesn't give you the answer you want, or doesn't answer at all, LEAVE THEM ALONE. THIS IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO HARASS PEOPLE. the hermits are likely just as stressed out as us, if not probably more so, so please keep that in mind when contacting them.
don't freak out, we'll be okay, this is not the end of the world, nor is it the end of Hermitcraft. we will be okay.
second edit: please remember that (at least as far as we know) ISKALL AND STRESS WERE NOT KICKED OR BANNED. THEY LEFT OF THEIR OWN VOLITION.
ALSO!!! VERY IMPORTANT!!!
WE. DO. NOT. KNOW. EXACTLY. WHAT. HAPPENED.
PLEASE DO NOT ASSUME ANYTHING SIMPLY BASED OFF OF OTHER MCYT'ERS PAST ACTIONS/SCANDALS. WE DO NOT KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED. WE MIGHT NOT EVER KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED. WE NEED TO BE OKAY WITH THAT AND NOT DRAW OUR OWN CONCLUSIONS.
TWITTER LINKS TO VICTIM RESPONSES:
https://twitter.com/Kasszi_/status/1860670647946604985
https://twitter.com/emoslab_/status/1860697161245323559
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yeosatinyngz · 23 days ago
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(rules anon) I was just wondering if you could do something similar to your forgot your bday ask u got? but they forgot your anniversary bc they were hanging out with the Mc? hurt and comfort or hurt and no comfort whatever you decide (but u totes don't have to do this tho if it makes you uncomfortable!)
I apologize for the delay, I was bombarded with school work and studying but I’m finally done with the semester and have the time to write your request, hope you like it! <3
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THEY FORGET YOUR ANNIVERSARY
↳Fem! Non MC Reader | Angst w/ comfort | NOT PROOFREAD
Lies were the very thing you were feeding yourself with when you heard no response from your partner, cause surely there was no way he had forgotten the anniversary of when you both got together.
You sent out your usual good morning text to him but many hours have passed by to the point where the sun was currently setting. You had your message chat with him opened, staring at it hoping it will somehow lead to him miraculously messaging you back. But to no avail, your text remained unanswered.
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You release a deep sigh and close your phone. You needed to distract your mind off of your current situation so you decided to go outside for a walk to clear your head. You were enjoying the breeze until you heard a familiar laugh, the laugh that belonged to your beloved. 
You turned around to see him walking alongside his colleague, mc. They looked so happy and perfect together, as if they were destined to be together. Oh, you thought to yourself while your heart shattered into a million pieces. You couldn’t bear to witness the scene before you anymore so you quickly left.
You made it back home and slammed the door shut. That’s when everything you held back in you just came falling apart. Your body trembled as your legs gave out on you, you landed on the floor with a thud as the tears started to roll down your eyes. You don’t even know how long you were crying until the door opened with the very man you were despairing over. 
“Honey I’m home-” That’s when he realized the current state you were in, he quickly rushed over to check up on you, “What’s wrong my love?” He asks so softly while his hand reaches out to attempt to wipe away your tears. You were quick to smack his hand away and turned your head away from him. 
Shakily letting out a breath of air, you turn back to look him straight into his eyes with fury, firmly declaring, “Let’s break up.” His eyes immediately widened as he frantically grabbed your hands. “Please don’t say that, at least tell me why.” He looked at you with those dangerous puppy dog eyes of his that were brimming with tears.
You scoffed and yanked your hands away from his, “Isn’t forgetting our anniversary and hanging out with another girl reason enough?” He goes quiet and you can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, “You got your reason, now leave.” 
You couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore and you were ready to get up but he pulled you down towards him, tightly wrapping you into his embrace. “Hey! What are you doing?! Let go of me!” You protest as you squirm in his arms. “Please,” He lets out weakly, “Just listen to me.” 
Seeing that you weren’t protesting anymore, Xavier continued on, “While I have no excuse for forgetting our anniversary, I was only with mc because we were assigned a mission together and were just catching up afterwards.” “You looked a little too happy, you were giggling with her and all”  you huffed. “She was teasing me about you and saying how cute we were together. You should know that I have eyes on no one else but you.”
“And yet you forgot our anniversary.” “...There’s no arguing that, I’m sorry.” He truly looked so sad and his signature puppy dog eyes were back and working its magic on you, “Please let me make it up to you.” You sigh, giving in to his pouty state, “Alright” He immediately brightened from this word alone “But you will have to do your best because you are still not forgiven.” “I promise!”
He kept his promise as he surprised you the very next day with a beautiful arrangement of flowers (that he harassed Jeremiah to help him with over night, poor dude does not get paid enough), spoiling you with all of your favorite food (he wanted to cook and bake everything himself but we all know why he decided to order delivery instead), gifting you a matching set of necklace (His had your initial while yours had an X), and of course caring to all your needs.
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You decided to go visit Rafayel instead of just waiting around for a response that you won’t be getting anytime soon. However, once you got to his studio you came to realize that he wasn’t home either. Strange, you thought to yourself. Where could he be at this time? 
The only person that could possibly know your boyfriend’s whereabouts was Thomas so you went ahead and gave him a call. To your luck, he was quick to pick up, “Sorry to bother you Thomas but do you happen to know where Rafayel is?” “I’m not exactly sure where he is right now but I remember mc saying she was going to pick him up.” “Oh…thanks for letting me know.” “Yeah no problem.” He says while you quickly say bye to him and hang up the call.
It took everything in you to not lose your mind right now. The grip you had on your phone was so intense it probably wasn’t far from being broken into pieces. You tried calming yourself down and decided to settle on his couch for the meanwhile. You were going to wait until he came back.
It felt like an eternity waiting for Rafayel to come back, your mind kept spiraling the more the seconds passed by and you just needed him to hurry up so you could confront him and get it over with. 
As if your prayers were heard, the door to the studio door opened and in walked your beautiful boyfriend, well soon to be ex boyfriend accompanied with his bodyguard. His eyes were quick to find your figure sitting on your coach and he jumped back in surprise, “Oh you scared me, what are you doing here cutie?” 
That’s when he noticed the nasty glare you were giving him and your arms crossed over each other. He mentally panics, Uh oh, I fucked up. “Oh you should be scared, Rafayel.” He felt chills go down his spine from your cold words. That’s when mc awkwardly coughs and speaks up, “Uh I think I’ll excuse myself” before she quickly dashed out the door leaving you two in awkward silence. 
Rafayel was quick to rush to your side, dramatically dropping down to his knees and planting his face into your lap. He lifts his chin up and looks up at you while begging for forgiveness, “Please forgive me cutie, you can do whatever you want with me just please don’t be mad anymore.” 
His eyes were filled with despair as he waited anxiously for your response, his pout deepening the longer you delayed your response. “I’ll let you guess what you did wrong.” His brain freezes as he tries to come up with all the possibilities. You grabbed his chin to force him to look into your eyes, “You forgot our anniversary and chose to go out with that bodyguard of yours.” 
He mentally curses himself, “I’m sorry cutie, I’ve been working on this piece for the past week nonstop and got the dates mixed up, I swear it wasn’t on purpose. The reason I was out with Miss bodyguard is because I was getting some materials to finish up my piece.” 
Without even waiting for your response he got up and dragged you along with him to unveil the canvas that was hidden underneath a cloth. You could tell that it was unfinished but it was no doubt that what he painted was you. You unconsciously let out a gasp because you couldn’t believe what your eyes were witnessing.
Rafayel has painted you in a way where no one else in this world can ever come close to replicating, he drew your likeness in such an ethereal way that it left you speechless. “I- Is this how you see me?” He nods, “I’m ashamed to show you the unfinished product but this piece doesn’t even come close to showcasing your beauty, you continue to inspire me everyday cutie so I hope you can forgive me.” You threw yourself at him and crushed him into a hug. “You are more than forgiven, I love you so much Raf.” He plants a kiss on your temple, “I love you so much you don’t even know.”
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Sighing, you went along with your last resort, calling Greyson. You dislike wasting their precious time when they’re on the clock but you’re sure Greyson can spare you maybe a minute or two compared to Zayne. Your heart drums even faster as the seconds prolonged from him picking up the phone.
Finally you hear Greyson’s voice fill your ear, “What’s up?” “Sorry to bother you Greyson but I just wanted to know how Zayne was doing.” “It’s no bother really, he actually left a while ago.” “Oh is that so?” “Yeah, his last patient today was mc and they left together about maybe forty five minutes ago.” You remained silent as your mind started coming up with different scenarios, you were quickly pulled out of your thoughts by Greyson calling out to you. “Sorry about that, thanks for telling me, have a good night.” “You too.”
Then the call ends, leaving you alone with all your doubtful thoughts. You sat at the couch waiting there for Zayne to come back but as the hours passed you were hopeless. 
You don’t even know what time it was or when you even fell asleep but you awoke to keys jingling and the front door opening. You slowly got up and walked up to him, “How come you’re home so late?” “Sorry about that, mc invited me over for dinner since grandma Josephine wanted to see me.” 
“Well you could’ve told me ahead of time, I wouldn’t have made dinner and waited on your return then” your words came out a little harsher than you wanted and Zayne took notice. You walked over to the dining table to clear out all the food and he followed after you to also help.
That’s when he freezes, in the middle of the table sat a cake with the words ‘Happy Anniversary’ in your handwriting. He looks up at you but you pay him no attention. “You made this cake?” You look back at him with cold eyes, “Yeah but it doesn’t matter anymore, you can toss it out since there’s nothing to celebrate.” You were done putting everything in the fridge and you walked out of the kitchen. “I’ll be heading to bed first, I’m taking the guest bedroom.” 
Before you could take another step Zayne reaches out and grabs your hand, you were too tired for this. You turned around and looked him in his eyes while you pried his hand off yours, “Can we not do this right now? I’m exhausted and don’t want to deal with this.” “Please”, his hazel eyes were swimming with regret as they pleaded with you to listen. You manage to grumble out a “You have five minutes.”
“It was not my intention to forget our special day, I’ve been overwhelmed recently with work and it all messed with my head. I'm truly so sorry and I know empty words won’t do anything for you at this moment but I will make it my duty to make it up to you just please don’t leave me, you’re the only person in this world I can’t bear to lose.” 
You reached up and cupped his face with both of your hands, “I’m not going to leave you, you dummy. I just want you to rely on me and communicate with me more when you’re tired. A relationship consists of two people, let us both carry the same amount of weight. But don’t think you’re off the hook about forgetting our anniversary though, you’re still on thin ice mister.” He lets out a small laugh, “Duly noted.”
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You checked in with the twins about Sylus’s schedule in advance and they confirmed that he would be out during the afternoon today. You set out to the N109 Zone, specifically his place so that you could plan out surprising him for your anniversary.
It took you lots of time and effort with putting up all the decorations and manually blowing up the balloons. After everything was done you rested on the couch for a while.
You still have plenty of time till his return so you were currently helping his chef prepare his favorite dishes. You put extra care into making the food since it was a special occasion. You couldn’t wait to surprise Sylus.
It was about time Sylus should be returning so you closed all the lights, hiding behind the couch, itching for the right moment to jump out and surprise the love of your life.
Suddenly, you heard the door open. This was the moment, prepare yourself. The lights turn on and you hear footsteps coming closer to you. You jumped out yelling surprise ready to pop the confetti until you came face to face with Kieran, with Luke behind him.
“Huh, where’s Sylus?” Kieran speaks up, “Boss had another unexpected business meeting so he’ll be back a little later.” “Oh” You sigh dejectedly. They try to cheer you up but you just slumped back onto the couch.
An hour has passed and still no trace of Sylus. At this point you looked so sad that Luke offered to call Sylus to see where he was at. Luke puts his phone on speaker so that you could also hear.
Soon you heard the deep silky voice that belonged to your partner, “What is it?” “I was just wondering when you’ll be home.” “I still haven’t wrapped things up with Miss Hunter yet so it’ll still take a while.” “Oh ok, please try to get home as soon as you can.” “I’ll try.”
Luke nervously looks at you after he ends the call. You laughed and a chill ran down both the twin’s back. “Miss, are you ok?” Kieran asks. Catching your breath after you laughed you responded, “How can I be ok after finding out the man I love forgot our anniversary and is out with this girl he frequently has business meetings with.”
You abruptly got up and went to gather your things with you. “W- where are you going?” Luke shakily asks. “I’m going home and neither of you guys are stopping me.” “Please reconsider!” Kieran pleaded, you threw him a death glare and walked towards the door, proceeding to open it and slam it on your way out. You felt bad for getting angry at the twins but your emotions got the better of you.
Sylus just got back and as soon as he opened the door he was welcomed with the sight of the twins panicking and shouting at him. “Boss, why didn’t you pick up your phone? We were calling you for so long, this is an emergency!!” “My phone died.” “You’re in big trouble boss.” “Huh?” Obviously confused by the commotion the twins pushed him to the living room.
He took in the sight and noticed the ‘Happy Anniversary’ banner. That’s when his heart drops, oh he messed up real bad. He wanted to beat himself but there were more pressing matters. “Either one of you give me your phone.” Once a phone was handed to him he quickly went to find your contact and called you.
However, it’s been the tenth time he’s calling you and you still haven’t picked up. As he was giving up you finally picked up, “Ugh would you quit spam calling me Kieran?” “Sweetie, I'm so sorry.” “Oh it’s you, I’m hanging up.” you said coldly. “Wait-” You wasted no time in ending the call. You were also quick to block Sylus and the twin’s numbers.
You were tired after everything that happened today so you drifted off to sleep. You don’t know how long you were sleeping but you woke up to a loud crash, jolting you up in your bed. You looked around to check the source of the noise and noticed that your balcony door was broken, the glass pieces shattered around your floor.
Then you feel a gush of wind as a familiar black and dark red mist surrounds you tightening you into a hold. You looked up and found yourself staring into a pair of shining scarlet eyes. “Let me go you psycho!” “Not until you listen to me.” You roll your eyes, “Not like you gave me any other option.”
He chuckles while walking towards you. Stopping when he’s directly in front of you. “I’m here to beg you for forgiveness, I’m sorry for neglecting you on our special day. I’ll do anything for your forgiveness, hell I’ll even grovel.” The gleam in your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. Needless to say, Sylus did his part and earned your forgiveness.
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homeslices · 2 months ago
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Husband! Kento x fem!reader
A/N: Sorry I dropped off the face of the Earth again lol. Also sorry if this isn’t amazing I’m a little rusty.
Pairings: Kento Nanami x fem!reader
Warnings: Smut
Mdni
Word Count: 600
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Husband! Kento who absolutely adores when his wonderful wife brings his lunch to his office when he completely forgot it at home.
Husband! Kento who can’t help but give you a sweet kiss to show his appreciation, I mean you went all out of your way to bring it to him, why shouldn’t he make his thanks known?
Husband! Kento who turned that sweet kiss, into two, then into three, and that led to your current situation of being bent over his desk, paper scattered everywhere, and your very dear husband roughly fucking you from behind.
“Ken!” you squeal.
Kento’s body was almost crushing you, covering yours completely as his cock pistoned in and out of you so fast, you could barely comprehend anything other than the thought, the feeling of him.
His hand moved quickly, shoving his middle and ring fingers in your mouth effectively gagging you.
“Shhh sweetheart,” Kento's lips brush against your ear. “You have to be quiet or someone out there might hear.”
Your watery, unfocused eyes immediately travel towards the locked door, which was the only thing keeping what Kento and you were doing private. The thought of someone in your husbands’ office finding out about the two of you being intimate was terrifying, but at the same time you couldn’t help but clench around Kento.
His hips stutter and he couldn’t help but let out a satisfied groan.
“You’d like that? You like the idea of someone out there knowing your being fucked dumb on your husbands cock?”
All you could do is desperately nod as the sound of skin slapping skin grows louder.
“What was that honey? I couldn’t hear you.”
A gagged “mhm” miraculously made it out of your lips, to which your husband only chuckled. Kentos hips roughly roll and you let out a choked moan as his hits that spongy spot inside.
“Is that the spot?”
The tip of his cock begins to brush against your g-spot over and over again. You claw at the edge of the desk barely able to hold yourself together as muffled whines make it past your husband's fingers.
At this point Kento gave up on keeping you quiet and decided to hold both of your hips tight enough that you’ll probably have bruises afterwards.
You were so close, writhing beneath Kento you could feel it building, and building, and finally, it snapped.
Your eyes roll back in ecstasy and your jaw drops in a silent scream as you tighten around Kento’s cock, and when his hips stutter you knew that he was finished too.
Kento lets out a growl as he empties himself in you, slowing his movements as he pumped his release into you.
Your head felt light as you leisurely came back down from your orgasm and the feeling of Kentos lips pressing against the back of your neck made you shutter slightly.
“You alright sweetheart?”
His voice cuts through the now quiet office. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you try to formulate a response.
“Yeah,” voice horse, you take a moment to clear it. “Yeah I’m alright.”
Kento hums as he carefully reaches down and pulls up your panties, effectively trapping the cum that has started to drip out of your now drenched cunt.
You take a deep breath to finally stand up and fixing your clothes that had, in fact, gotten wrinkled during your activities. Your husband took the time to fix your hair while you did so and once you both finished, gave you another kiss on your forehead.
“Thank you for lunch, my dear wife.”
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dwaekkicidal · 8 months ago
Text
Lessons
˚ʚfwb!Bang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚
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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Just a regular session of your best friend helping you learn Korean <3
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.6k
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, nicknames; ‘honey and good girl,’ pvssy slaps, playful ass&thigh spanking, Chris calls himself Daddy once lol, rough sex, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3)
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: max and I spoke about this a few weeks ago and it was soo hot so I wanted to write something for it,,, but then I lost motivation for it for a while😭 anyways hope u enjoy <3
OH and thank you for 700 followers!! (im late so now so ~25 away from 800) :''') I have something planned for if/when I hit 1k hehe, Love u guys :>
DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!
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After you had moved to Korea, you made it your sole goal to be completely fluent in Korean as soon as possible. You knew the basics and some vocabulary that got you through day-to-day encounters, but holding an actual conversation past introductions was rather difficult. So, this is how you found yourself in your current situation. Your best friend and fuck buddy of 2 years giving you weekly Korean lessons.
And this? This was a normal thing between you both. Sitting in his lap practicing while he sits there explaining things and kneading your thighs mindlessly. It was a normal occurrence! The only difference is you usually wore sweats or some sort of bottom that would cover your legs more. Today was one of the hotter days of the week, so you disregarded the extras and opted to only wear one of his shirts, nothing else.
His hands rubbed eagerly up and down your thighs, squeezing the flesh like he does with soft pillows. Again, it was normal, but today he seemed to be restless with his movements. You couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath when he mindlessly squeezed the flesh of your inner thigh rather roughly while he translated a word you couldn’t figure out. “What is up with you today? You’re more touchy-feely than usual.”
“Sorry haha. Had a long day so I’m fidgety.. And you know I can’t resist you in nothing but my shirt.” You only hummed in response. You believed what he said, but you also knew that he wasn’t stupid and that the apology was not for his roughness as much as it was for how riled up he knew you were getting. He was never actually sorry about being physically affectionate with you, but you both knew how you tended to get very horny when his hands were on you so desperately.
“Mmmm.. Let me play with you a little while you read, okay?” You shake your head and push your study items away, pulling a laugh from him when you mumbled out ‘Fuck that, I need you.’
“None of that hahaha. Focus on the reading, honey.” He said, placing a kiss on your cheek before leaning down and biting into your neck. You groaned and leaned back into him, grinding against him in an attempt to make him fold in your favor. He let the first few grinds pass as he left hickeys along your neck, but the second your hands cupped him through his shorts he grabbed your hips to still your movements.
“Hey.“ The commanding tone in his voice caught you off guard and had your hands immediately stop in their tracks. “Stop that. You’re going to finish reading this text and then I’ll fuck you nice and good.”
“It’s not that serious, Chris. It's just a few paragraphs, we can do it after or just skip out this week.. Plus it’s your fault I’m this horny anyways.” The attitude in your voice makes him narrow his eyes, and then he grabs your chin and angles you to look back at him.
“Watch your tone. And I’m not gonna tell you again,” His hand grabbed both of yours and placed them on the table before moving to spread your legs open for him. Then, he finishes his sentence and enunciates each word with a harsh smack to your bare cunt. “Finish. Reading. The. Article.” The last one comes off harder than the others and it pulls a squeal from you, making your hands shoot down and wrap around his wrist while your legs slam shut against his hand. He grabs from your inner knee and hooks your legs over his, keeping you spread for him, and he pulls your book closer again.
You can feel the teasing smile on his face after he places a kiss on your cheek and then speaks against it. “You only have one article left, honey. The quicker you read it, the quicker I can bend you over and fuck you into the table~” You can’t help but whine and nod. Once you look down at the material again, Chris’ hands that were previously rubbing your inner thigh move back to rub along your wet folds. 
Then for what feels like the next hour, but was really just 20 long minutes, you slur out the words in front of you as best as you can. Chris’ left hand swapped between drawing circles into your clit and pinching your nipple, while his right hand shoved fingers against your walls. And every couple of minutes he would swap between kissing your neck to sucking hickeys into your collarbone. However, you weren’t allowed to cum and any time you mispronounced something or took too long to read a word, a stern slap was sent against your clit. As long as you continued to read well, he would pump 3 of his fingers in and out of you.
By the time you’re halfway through the material, your mind is foggy and you’re almost drooling on yourself from the constant edging. By the time you’re on the last sentence, your legs are shaking and you're slumped against him letting out quiet moans. Your neck and collarbone were so red from his incessant suckling, and you were desperate to get this over with. And then, when you finally finished, he stopped all movements to place a soft, congratulatory slap on your thigh and massaged your hips.
“Good girl… Now was that so hard?” With that, he hurriedly clears the desk before helping you stand and then standing himself. The chair you both rested on was kicked backwards and your whole world spun as he suddenly pinned you to the desk. You whined as his hand held a tight grip in your hair and pushed your face into the table. His free hand playfully squeezed and slapped at your ass a few times before you heard his shorts and boxers hit the floor.
You sighed out his name as he teased his tip through your folds, silently pleading with him to hurry it up. “Shhhhhh… ‘Atta girl. You did so well, baby. Now let me take care of you, yeah?”
He finally sunk in and nothing but low, whiny moans left your lips as you clenched around him. His free hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it in appreciation while he slowly sunk every inch he had to offer. Once he bottomed out he gave you only a little bit of time before his thrusts started, albeit slowly at first but quickly ramping up due to his own impatience. It doesn’t take long for him to change to an unforgiving and rougher pace, his hand still holding your head against the table.
“Fff-fuck.. Christopherrr-”
“Yeah yeah, baby. Daddy’s got you. ‘M nice and deep, just how you like it right?” You missed the way he smirked when you let out a desperate ‘Uh-huh’ in response, but you could feel the way it encouraged him when his hips slammed against yours with more eagerness. He keeps this pace up for a while until he feels you tighten around him, and then he changes to slow, deep thrusts that make your eyes roll into your skull. 
The hand in your hair slides on top of yours on the desk, intertwining your fingers, and he leans forward to place his forehead between your shoulder blades, “Mmmm keep squeezing me, Honey. Fffuck, juuust like that..”
When you’re tipping over the edge, he places a kiss on your sweaty skin and moans against it. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me and I’ll fill you up just how you like it, okay?” You want to nod, but everything hits you at once so you can only cry out against your desk.
As your orgasm starts to fade into overstimulation, he fixes his posture and focuses on his hip movements. A squeaky moan falls from your lips as he suddenly bottoms out and the hold on your hip tightens. He threw his head back and bit his bottom lip as he came, attempting to muffle his whiney moans. He rides out his orgasm by sometimes pulling out and snapping his hips harshly against yours.
“Fuck… If that’s how we end the studying session from now on, I might consider this payment.” He jokes.
You let out a breathy laugh and he starts to pull out slowly, pushing you into the table as he did so. You take the moment to catch your breath when you realize he’s gone quiet and there’s the light feeling of breath on your thighs. Your head snaps back and you realize he was kneeling in order to watch his cum slide down your folds.
“Hey!” you whine and place a hand on his forehead, pushing his face away only for him to resist, so you use your feet to push him harder. He laughs at your embarrassment and stands up, pulling you to sit up as well and lifting the shirt off of you. He uses it to wipe you down before throwing it into your hamper and grabbing one of his spare shirts from your dresser. He steals a kiss before covering you in the shirt, then drags you to the living room to watch a tv show together.
You two spend the rest of the night on the couch, watching tv and relaxing in each other’s warmth. It’s no surprise when soft snores are heard and you look down to see his sleeping face squished into your chest. You huff out a laugh before you snuggle him closer. Then, your eyes get heavy until they inevitably close, and you fall asleep too.
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