#tw:abortion mention

[lilacleni]

5 & 6 please 😊

Hello, nonny thank you so much for your ask id love to share with you these things sorry for the late reply :) 

5. Are there any scenes in your story that you enjoy re-reading? 

Scenes that I enjoy re-reading in ruination are me and @helenofsimblr collabs with Kira, Collin and Karlie I always love re-reading those these scenes include the night Kira first met Collin & the night Collin told Kira how he felt about her even though he was nervous as hell about but a little pep talk from his mother calmed those nerves down and the scene between Adrissa and Don Lothario about their unborn child that she went ahead and had an abortion without his consent which upset him when she told him but he didn't hold it against her he asked if it ever happened again to please think about it first.

6. Are there any scenes you wish you could go back and re-write?  I would say the fight scenes I had with Kerian & Lucinda & Lycidas & Lilianna they're the only ones that stood out and the development of Kerian and Adrissa’s relationship I would say I left out pieces I could have used too.

[poppy-battenberg]

we are all deserving of stories

When Charity awoke, she didn’t find sunlight streaming in through the courthouse windows but saw only gray outside. The air felt heavy, as if it’d rained, but she saw no sign outside that more than a light sprinkling might’ve occurred. However long she slept, she wasn’t sure, but she knew it’d been terribly needed and she was lucky to not be woken up again by the mob. When she went to lift herself up, her entire body was stiff and sore, but staying still wouldn’t do her much good.

Taking slow, careful steps, Charity began to weave her way lazily through the pews as she tried to stretch out. The dress was even more uncomfortable than before, and with the heaviness in the air, she wanted nothing more than to rip off half the skirt. Well aware the cloth was probably far too thick and sturdy to tear up, she instead tried turning and tucking and twisting it until it came up past her knees. There was absolutely no breeze in the heavy air in the courthouse, so it wasn’t all that much of a relief, but it was still helpful.

As Charity walked, she realized that there were folders and papers strewn all throughout the pews. She couldn’t think of any harm in opening them up, and gently placed a finger against the edge of a folder to open it up. Bending forward, she just scanned the page at first before she realized what it really was. A file containing all the information about one of the other tributes in the arena. She picked it up and carried it with her to the next folder, reading through the first page of that one quickly until she realized it was another file about another tribute.

Working quickly, as if this was a test, Charity scooped up all the folders and plopped herself down not on the pew but on the floor in the center of the courtroom with her skirt and the folders strewn about her so she could go through each one individually. Despite the cut and dry nature of the reports on the tributes, in her mind each tribute grew into a misunderstood hero or heroine.

Osiris Santos, a boy lucky enough to have two mothers and cursed enough to have them both torn from him. He wasn’t a rebel, he was a grieving child. 

Juno Tamble, a girl weighted down by the burden of her parents’ pasts and lifted up by the nurturing hand of her foster father. Rebellion ran in her blood, but not for the excitement - for the justice.

Stellina Minuet, the opposite of her dead ballerina sister and the girl who was full of anger but had a desire to hurt those who hurt her family and turned her anger and training on them. A fierce, powerful girl who’s last words in her home district were, “A Game full of criminals, sounds like fun.”

Jax Cod, an independent shadow boy who had the nerve to steal from anyone and everyone, even a victor who was known for her kindness. He was a twisted cross between Peter Pan and Robin Hood but he had long ago stopped being a child and he was the only downtrodden he stole for.

Ada Avery, a kind girl with a half-full heart until she found the boy and the dark trade that could fill her to the brim. A clever, clever thief with a quieter soul than feet, else she might never have been caught at Clover Darwin’s house and begun her journey to the Games.

Skye Craiol, a beautiful hellion with fire dripping from her ears and ignited deep within her very core. A scrappy, intelligent young woman who’d been hardened by neglect but no too much to ignore concern for a stranger. If she had the chance to join a rebellion, the opposing side would go up in flames and she’d be the one to walk through the ashes with a smile.

Rowan Nightfall and Winnie Sycamore, who could only be thought of and viewed as a couple and simultaneously. A couple who just wanted to love each other and make music. A couple who wanted to grow old together, not die together. A prince and a princess who build up their own lyrical kingdom.

Before Charity could read her own file, there was a slight tap against the window and she was immediately startled. Looking up, she saw that it was a parachute with a small box. Suddenly excited, and well aware of how hungry she was, she was hopeful there was another meal inside. She was surprised there was no note from Harper or Drake that she could see, and after she forced open the window, she realized that there seemed to be something different about this gift. 

She sat carefully on a nearby pew and opened up the box, finding a slice of cake inside. Part of her wanted to just eat it regardless of what it might be filled with, but she needed to be cautious. After taking a deep breath, she bent down to sniff the cake extensively. She knew she looked like a fool for doing it, but no one could blame her for being suspicious of poisoning since this didn’t look like any gift she’d seen in the past. 

Eventually, after some poking and prodding, Charity picked off a small bit and ate it. Upon swallowing, she decided there was nothing wrong with it and began to eat it much faster. It was concerning her how little she was eating and the effects it might be having on her pregnancy, especially after the rocks incident, but she knew she just had to stick things out a little longer. She wasn’t that far along and people had gone through more treacherous things later in pregnancy with no issues, though she couldn’t recall anything she’d ever heard to support that. She just needed to think that in the moment to get her through. Once she was out, she’d seek whatever medical attention was necessary and get any extra help she needed.

With the slice of cake gone, Charity found herself drawn toward her little stack of files again and curiously sought out her own. The revelatory facts within made her stomach suddenly turn as she knew the page she’d just opened to would likely be broadcast to the entire nation, including all of Eleven.

Charity Brush. A girl who’s taken part in multiple adulterous relationships, including the mayor of the district. A girl who’s accused of stealing jewelry from the mayor’s wife. A girl who’s become pregnant out of wedlock. Three times. A girl who’s undergone forced miscarriages. Twice.

The familiar scent of the tea Kohler gave her suddenly made sense now, it was just more diluted than the oil Hector forced down her throat. It was probably mixed with multiple other herbs that could induce a miscarriage. She’d told him and he’d been so happy and excited, at least in her eyes, and then he’d turned around and subjected her body and their growing child to something horrible. And she’d been so hesitant to tell him this time just in case there was another miscarriage. Because she cared for the man and their child and the beautiful future she’d painted in her mind and wanted for them. And she was naive enough to think his wife and a divorce was the worst problem they had to face.

Charity wanted to scream and sob and tear apart all the pages around her and destroy the courthouse. But, she was tired and suddenly weighted down by reality. For a time, she didn’t move. When she heard a cannon in the distance, she barely flinched and barely cared who it was. Despite all the beautiful little descriptions of her fellow tributes she’d created in her head that day, she was glad they’d died and not her. It was the nature of the Games.

With slow, graceful movements, Charity made her way through the pews to see if there was anything useful around before she left the courthouse. She would walk until she came across something useful or a sector with good shelter, and she would fight against whoever and whatever she had to so she and her child could get out of this hell.

Charity Brush, a girl who’d been raised by a loving family and hoped to raise the same kind of family one day. A heroine whose greatest weakness was loving too much and striving to see beauty even where there was none, blinding herself sometimes. A princess betrayed by her prince who’d save herself from the forest and claim her crown alone with her head held high.

[valerie-reese]

Task 03- Aesthetics- Give Me The Years Back

[...]

After crawling into his bed that night, he found that the second thing he felt was grief.  Curled around himself with his eyes closed tight against the onslaught of tears, Valerian grieved the child he’d never known he wanted. He couldn’t- wouldn’t- let Angelo see this part of the Aftermath. Angelo had gone through enough he didn’t need Val’s grief on his shoulders.

Valerian saw the future that they could have had. He saw white picket fences in some suburb, making dinners with Angelo, running after toddlers and dogs and a silver ring on his third finger. He saw tucking some brown-eyed child with his dumb ears into bed at night, and teaching soccer to some blue-eyed child with springy curls . He saw locking all the doors of a house he’d never been in before crawling into bed next to Angelo. He saw that future being torn away by Angelo’s parents in an instant, and he saw his relationship with Angelo falling apart in the aftermath. 

[...]

@dogtrainerangie

[marblesarelost]

I’m a Christian, and I’m back here like

[shu-sakamaki]

For days your girlfriend was weak and without energy, he couldn't even walk alone, you discover that she is pregnant and as the baby is half a vampire he is sucking the vital energy of the mother and taking her nutrients, with each passing day she is more weak, what do you do?

[*watching her struggle*]

...

I’ve decided... We are not keeping up with this...

I can't possibly love a child that took you away from me... Please, listen to me. We can try again later once you’re a vampire yourself. But right now this... It’s not worth...

There is no guarantee you’ll even make it through to give birth to it. I might just end up with neither of you. 

If I have to lose one... I’d rather it not be you...

[sensualtoaster]

So are we not going to talk about the surge of Anti-Abortion Bills being passed or attempting to be passed? Especially in Georgia and Alabama?

[himelunamoon]

Windenburg 2 weeks later....

Landon:There you are ...                                                                                Stella: ...... this room *tears up*                                                                              Landon: What’s wrong too much pink?                                                                Stella: *laughs through tears* No, I’ve been meaning to ask you, about your kids from past relationships?                                                                              Landon:  the most recent was fifty years ago and the girl aborted it so...            Stella: Oh, I’m sorry for bringing up such a painful memory                                  Landon: It wasn’t my choice to make... Let’s change the subject what do you think of this house?                                                                                  Stella: It’s nice I like it. I’ve already picked my room.                                              Landon: Really now, what happen to sleeping in one bedroom? Are scared to sleep in the same room with me. I don’t bite.. much  ;)  Let’s go inform Evelyn of our decision.                                                                                                                                                              

[lovetorp]

Hole in the Heart

Sebastian had become concerned. Something was off with Jim, like something was missing. He sat beside him on the couch and glanced over. "Hey uh...Jim. You ever thought about...being a dad. I know last time didn't go all that well what with her...not wanting the baby." He whispered. @criminal-royalty

[emmersdrawberry]

ARE U SHURE hOWSHURE

[lilyofthevxlley]

"M-Momo?" She asked in disbelief, staring at the posative pregnancy test in her hand with a shocked expression. "I-I... W-Well... You'd better get your stuff out of here and moved into your boyfriend's place. I-It's obvious I was just a game to you."

Momo looked up and took the pregnancy test from Tatsuki and squeezed it in her hands. Boyfriend? That wasn't even close to what happened. "Y-You've got it all wrong, Tatsuki." Momo glanced down at her feet, obviously ashamed of whatever it was now. "I didn't even know him..." She spoke softly, the anxiety in her causing her body to shake at the shoulders. "I said no... no... no..." She was ashamed of what had happened now, especiallysince Tatsuki took it the wrong way. "I-I... I'm sorry Tatsuki..." The dark haired woman turned and threw the pregnancy test away, shadow cast over her face. "I already made an appointment to go to the abortion clinic, y-you weren't suppose to know..." That was a problem with women in general nowadays. They never spoke up about sexual violations out of fear, and Momo planned to be one of those quiet people until she made the mistake of not hiding the result. "I'm sorry..."

[lil-miss-romano]

I think the title "Land of the free" should be given to Canada. Seriously. We got gay rights in every province. You have the rights to a safe abortion and also milk comes in jiggly bags.

[poppy-battenberg]

build the pyre //  self

Charity spent most of the afternoon before the launch too nauseous to wander far, and she was almost thankful to be able to tell people it was just nerves. She had a feeling people were becoming suspicious, but it was hardly unusual for a tribute to be ill during training from all the exercising, heavy food, and nerves. They just kept bringing her water to sip on and Avoxes cleaned up the bathroom hastily every time she walked out, though she was always so careful she wasn’t sure what they might be cleaning. She was always grateful and tried her best to convey it, but the Avoxes seemed uncertain about interacting with her. She didn’t understand they had every reason to be.

As tired as Charity was, it was nearly impossible for her to fall asleep for any long period of time. She kept being aroused by the strangest dreams. They weren’t even nightmares, but simply weird. She was groggy as she went through the motions of saying good-bye to her team and making her way through the last minutes of preparation. She knew later she would be upset by how quiet she was during her good-byes, but all she was concerned about was shutting her eyes as much as possible before it was suddenly time to enter the tube that would bring her into the arena. 

Ironically, it was in the darkest moment of the ascent that Charity felt herself suddenly fill with energy and wakefulness. There was no time to be tired or slow in the arena. This wasn’t even for her. This was for Kohler and their family that they had yet to even start.

A surprising calm gave over the always excitable and dramatic girl as she felt the rough rope around her neck. She expected her heart to jolt and drop into her stomach as the wobbly barrel beneath her creaked and seemed ready to break, but she kept control. There were no hands restraining her, her body wasn’t being forced to reject something beautiful within itself... she’d been through worse than an ugly necklace. 

She barely even noticed the sea of faceless harassers, she was deaf to the noise and the jeers and unaffected before her accusers. 

Whore. Slut. Homewrecker. Piece of shit. Cunt. She’d heard it all before and kept her head high and shoulders back. What else was their left to hurl at her that could possibly break her posture that she’d worked so hard to perfect?

There was no castle as far as Charity could see out across the dark landscape, but it didn’t matter what existed in the arena. There’d be a castle afterward, a beautiful home and a happy family. She’d be the first princess to build her own castle block by block; her own kingdom child by child. She’d already had her heart and soul ripped from within her and left in a bloody mess before her eyes. No one - no the other tributes, the Gamemakers, and especially not the noose around her neck - was going to take Caitanya and their future together away from her. 

One.

Charity tucked her chin, caught the rope, swooped beneath, and jumped from the barrel with barely a second thought. She saw something large looming in the distance and assumed it was the cornucopia, losing the sound of any other tributes’ footsteps in the crowd as she charged forward. Something sharp tore at her forearm and she glanced down at a terribly itchy spot on her arm. A number, 0024, was etched into her skin. It looked like the tattoos some of the field workers gave themselves, but she’d never desired one for herself and the sight of it scared her more than anything else thus far. Was it permanent?

There was little more time to worry about the sore, itchy spot before a flame caught onto her dress and she struggled to put it out as she ran. Pointy objects stuck out from everywhere and dug into her skin. She ran with her arms close to her body, rather ending up with scars all over them than a single cut near her abdomen or back. She wasn’t thinking much, perhaps because she was so overtired or perhaps because she knew it would only hinder her and make her second guess herself. 

Arriving at the Cornucopia, she found little that actually looked helpful aside from what appeared to be a canteen. Assuming it was full, she dove for it, only to be tackled from the side by someone whose stature and smell were familiar. Pickman, one of a myriad of boys she’d kissed with a blush and a coy smile behind the schoolhouse before they were old enough to want more and know better than to waste time at school like that. They were both working the fields the next year and rarely ran into each other, aside from occasional meetings at group gatherings where they exchanged pleasantries and vaguely caught up. 

Now he was running away from her with an empty canteen clutched between his hands, and Charity’s hands, forearms, and knees were covered in scratches and sore spots that would turn into large bruises soon. She tried to take a deep breath, inhaled some dust and dirt still circulating, and immediately began to cough and choke. Her eyes began to water, but she could still see Pickman charging off toward an even darker, heavily wooded area. Digging her nails into the dirt, she hoisted herself up and ignored the throbbing in her knees as she took off after him. 

Cannons were starting to go off, but keeping count was the least of Charity’s concerns. All that mattered was catching up to Pickman, and she was gaining on him. She recalled almost too vividly memories from racing in primary school, and remembered how everyone always assumed Pickman, tall and muscular, must be a remarkable sprinter only to disappoint everyone with his awkward gait and slow pace. Charity won a decent amount of the races, and it would’ve surprised no one from home to see her close the distance so fast. 

“Pickman!” she shouted at him, unsure how she quite got the words out when she was breathing so hard now. All she could hear was her own heartbeat and gasping breaths. 

The young man glanced over his shoulder once before disappearing among the thickening trees. Charity tried to follow him as best she could, but it was so dark and the trees were so crowded and there was no real path that it was almost impossible. The sounds of Pickman’s movements slowly faded into the distance and Charity eventually slowed her pace for the sake of not twisting her ankle. 

Chasing such a familiar face, it was almost too easy to feel as though she was back in Eleven in an unexplored area. The cannon sounds reminded her that wasn’t the case. The uniform was even worse, and Charity let herself take a moment to feel exasperated over how modest, drab, and unappealing she must look. Why did tributes in the past get to wear sleek designs but all she got was an ill-fitting dress and uncomfortable shoes? Perhaps she should’ve been grateful she wasn’t wearing something too tight, but at the very least she could’ve been given a nicer color. And the tattoo was over the top, even for the Games. Maybe if the font was a little better and it was in a less visible place and it was significantly less itchy, it’d be fine, but not with all that in consideration.

A body suddenly fell in front of Charity and her immediate assumption was that it was a dead tribute or a mutt, but in the darkness she saw Pickman’s eyes almost level with hers. He’d been hiding out, waiting for her to walk near him to startle her. He looked to be covered in scratches, too, and Charity suddenly realized his hands were empty. Had he gotten rid of the canteen? Lost it? Had it taken from him? Was there someone else in the woods? She and Pickman barely spoke during training because he spent so much time working with the weapons and hand-to-hand combat, but she was certain he’d want to form an alliance. She opened her mouth to say something about it when her air pipes were suddenly restricted by Pickman’s forearm against them. She was so startled that her legs gave way a little and Pickman forced her back against the nearest tree with ease.

Charity flailed, trying to grasp onto the man or anything that might help. It was impossible for any air to get through and her panic didn’t do anything to aid her struggle. The calm from the first few moments of the arena was gone; she was terrified, frazzled, and she needed to break free at all costs. 

Reaching up with her arms swinging around, Charity’s hand grasped onto a thin branch. She watched Pickman’s eyes flick up to look at it, and trying to react before he did, she pulled as hard as she could with all her weight until the branch broke and came crashing down. They both ducked, but Pickman ducked the wrong way and the branch struck him across the temple. Charity collapsed, clinging to the trunk of the tree as she tried to regain her breath. She reached shaking hands out to pick up half of the broken branch, pulling it back quickly just in case Pickman moved. Blood trickled from the side of his head where a large splinter was sticking out, and his chest was rising very little and very slowly. Charity held the broken branch close her, trembling without any sign it might stop as she watched Pickman take his last breath.

If she wasn’t a criminal before, she knew she was now.