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@caecitate-blog
why did i gain followers while i’ve been away??? why anyway hi guys i promise i’ll be back in a little while. i’m tryin to get my inspiration back and my draft count is scaring me so honestly i’ll probably be starting over on lots of these threads and giving myself a fuckin thread limit so i don’t destroy myself ; w ;
i’m sorry guys, my peeta muse is really lacking as of late. i’m gonna go on a semi hiatus again. i’ll be back soon, i promise, i just need the breaks more often now, especially with my job and everything.
favourite character quotes
ofmockingashes & caecitate & bravenoughtotakeit
Imagine Person A of your OTP is blind. Both Person A and B are okay with this, but Person B has some insecurity because they think that Person A wouldn’t find them attractive if they could see. So Person A explains to them that they still find them beautiful. They come up with all sorts of compliments that don’t involve sight like ”Your skin is very soft.” or “Your hair always smells nice.” or ”Your laugh is very cute.”
FYI: This blog does not make greeting rps.
However if you would like to rp then simply send a message and I shall happily write a starter. [ Or vise-versa if you wish to make the starter. ]
This blog accepts tagged rps as well as meme beginning rps.
“Sometimes, I do. But those are the moments where I am not myself. I can be a cold star, the sky, a wave crushing against the shore but as myself, I am never free.”
Now, now it was the time to raise her eyes up to the heavens, to watch the passing clouds.
“Dissolve with the sky …,” she murmured, weighed and proofed the words carefully. It felt good to her.
He understood. He hated that he did -- he hated that his life was constantly on the same path, a collision course to this exact moment, where he’d be sitting blind and broken beneath a tree. He never had control. The Capitol only offered them shiny illusions of it.
Peeta stayed silent for a few moments, his glassy eyes following the sound of her voice. Did his eyes mirror the clouds? Was he, too, dissolving with the sky? “How do you separate yourself? How do you snap the tethers reality has on you?”
❛ ——— and then I think of it, what Peeta can do much better than the rest of us. He can use words. He obliterated the rest of the field at both interviews. And maybe it’s because of that underlying goodness that he can move a crowd – no, a country – to his side with the turn of a simple sentence. I remember thinking that was the gift the leader of our revolution should have.
independent peeta mellark role play. written by reece.
REMEMBER WHO THE REAL ENEMY IS
❝Oh good, c’mon then. I think I could even teach you something simple.❞Reaching out, she took his hand gently to lead the way.
“I’ve never even touched a piano before, so it’ll have to be very simple,” he says with a bit of a chuckle, letting her lead him.
He’s a broken boy, one to which she’s attempted to fix time and time again, but the justification HE is searching for, is no more than a mere idea in the terms of what Snow had intended on using him for. After coming into District 13, she half expected for him to waver the help, to escape, to RUN as fast as he could until water touched his toes and burdened his heart. Who was she to proclaim THIS as a good idea? Just a measly helping hand to the one who would — more than likely — know what to do to get OUT of this place. After speaking, head would fall, gaze at her fingertips before going to listen to the other, booted feet bringing her nearer whilst a hand touched the others face; a sign of a BOND manageable since the moment he’d entered the District.
“As far as it concerns you, Peeta, we have the chance, but it won’t be for long. I’ll walk you about the area, and from there, we will return. Coin believes this’ll be an ariel run, check the grounds, check radi —- ” She’d spare him of the details, vocals weakening just enough to feel SORROW for the fallen District, “ —- check the area, make sure that the Capitol doesn’t have anyone there. She, nor anyone else, knows we will be attending and landing.” She’s not from Twelve — she’s from Seven, drunken father, the familiar workings of a lumberjack —, but she HAS, in fact, seen the damage created by the Hunger Games, and now? Now she WORRIED for someone other than herself, having his health and well awareness be on the cusp between INSANITY and NORMALITY.
Does she feel shame for being the one to be his helping hand? NO. From the moment he appeared in the emergency care room, there’d been something about the way he writhed and groaned that brought her to feel ANGER, not towards Snow, not towards the Capitol, but towards KATNISS. Had she been smart enough, perhaps THIS would have never happened, perhaps Peeta wouldn’t be the cynical being he’d BECOME, but, that wasn’t her place of concern. Instead, the weakened smile would come across softened features, head nodding at the Victor’s comment. With a turn of her head and palm falling back to her side did the brunette nod towards an airman, hardened features returning after a weakened moment of thought.
“ —— so long as your ready, Peeta, we can go.”
Perhaps he should have run, but where would he have gone? His sight had been faded for days by the time they found him, and he was willing to come quietly. He was willing to comply... he had a job to do. So long as that m̯̬̟̦̹̩u͇t̲̩͍̞̙̝͟ṱ͚͍ ͚̩̭͓̝͈f̣̣̣͕ͅo̖͔͍̼̙͔ͅr͚̪̪̺g̱̰͚̩ͅe̩̱̱̳d̥̫͉ ͈̙o̦͉̻͓͈̻f̝̪͎̕ ̨̺͇̩̮f҉͔̮̣i̦̲͓̥̤̺ͅr̰e̳ ̪ą̺n̴̞̹̜d͔̙ ̹f͖͔͞è̝̥̰̬͎̩a҉̱͚̤̱̲r͎ was still drawing breath, he would always have a job to do. He would never rest until he removed her, destroyed the threat in the fire she deserved to burn in ...
But that wasn't Katniss. His heart was insistent, loud, aching. The Katniss the doctors showed him, the Katniss that everyone tried to convince him was real, was so far away from the mutt of his mind. He was confused. He was tired.
He wanted to go home.
But there's no home left. Not now.
Yet this overwhelming urge still overtook him. G was there to provide for him, and she took this request as seriously as any other. He had to admit, the fact that she was doing this at all for him... it brought a distant, small, but still tangible pang. If this was a different time... if he was less broken, if he wasn't so fucking shattered by the Capitol, then maybe he'd feel grateful. But for now, that feeling was as distant as the shiny memories that flitted behind dark, unseeing eyes like tracker jackers.
He wanted to shudder at the unfinished word -- radiation? What had truly become of his home? Ẃ̬͓̯͇̬h̢̜̞̻̻a̻͚͓t̝̜͚̙̹ ̙̖̞̣̯h̶a͖͎̩̣̮̱͕͟d̜̮̺͓̜̰̗́ ̡̞̺̬̗s̹͖̹̲̯ͅh͕͉͓̻̲̖ͅe̜͚̝̣̩̟͠ ͉̞͉͍͖̦d̬̬͇̺̀o̴̗̫̲nè̮̻ͅ?̳̲͟
Peeta stayed silent. An eerie thing it was, coming from the boy praised for his silver tongue and quick wit. He stared into his emptiness, the only thing he owned, before she spoke again. Ready... was he?
The driving force. The anger. It clawed at blackened eyes until he remembered the color red. Go. See. See with your hands, with your nose, with your ears and tongue and your wretched, ruined, broken body. See what she has done.
“-- I’m ready now.”
caecitate
❝Hey, Peeta bread, have you ever wanted to play music? Because I’d like to share my piano with you.❞
“-- I’ve never been musically inclined... but I’d love to hear it.” He’s even smiling a little, a ghost of the gentle grin when he was still a boy with bread.
yo this is a reminder that if you ever come up with a neat idea for our muses to interact - whether it’s canon or au - talk to me about it because chances are I will be 500% down to do the thing
coming to terms | showmaxter
Patience was in his gaze as it wandered over the unsettled boy. He had suffered much more than ANY of the other captives. Information wanted from him he did not know of and a victor turned into a weapon only to serve the Capitol and it’s propaganda. The months locked away deep down in the heart of the trainings centre had left it’s ＭＡＲＫＳ.
It was no courage to return to the Capitol. There was no other choice than to return to the city Caesar called his h o m e. District 13 had always stayed a strange place for him and although he had gotten used to the judging eyes following him it had been so different to everything he had known before. Never had he wanted to leave his home, but he had wanted to help the rebels.
Maybe this was the price to pay. Maybe it was fair. Maybe for him, but not for Peeta.
Flinching with the sudden firm grasp he still was not used to any unexpected touch. The imprisonment had made him sensitive for the smallest noise or touch. Back in the middle of the rebellion it had been important to be warned and prepared, but it turned into a sign of ANXIETY. Caesar did not ask any further until his heartbeat calmed down. Although it had likely already been noticed he did not want to appear different from the person that once had been beloved by an audience of millions.
‘ where did you want to go? ‘
It was hardly anything, little more than a slight startle beneath his fingertips... and if Peeta hadn't been silently, subconsciously searching for the signs, he might have missed it.
There are different types of flinches. Just as Peeta had learned that there were different types of darkness, the Capitol had also taught him this. There are the normal flinches, ones of simple origin and innocent consequence. They’re harmless, born of simple startling. But there are the ones forged from nothing but pain. They start from a hit, or a cruelly distorted sentence, or a combination of both to stir suffering. It’s a movement designed to protect and to run. It feels different, more desperate and instinctual.
Being held in that cell for so long, injected and rejected and infected and so horribly, brokenly affected, made the victor privy to these other flinching types, the ones borne from violence and blackened terror.
And this was the flinch Caesar Flickerman had -- it was the startle of a man from bonds, imprisoned and shackled and probably tortured. He could feel the recoiling beneath his palm, and he quickly pulled his hand away. Regret washed over him -- not for touching him, but for ever thinking that he was immune to the games of the Capitol. They were all trapped.
“Anywhere. Not here. I -- I can feel their eyes on me, Caesar, they’re looking at me like they always did... I can’t be their caged animal anymore, I need somewhere that’s... quieter.” His voice was laced with desperation, his blank, white eyes widening in his urgency.
And now, he knew that Caesar would understand. Perhaps Peeta should not have been so quick to judge. Though he can’t quite forgive, not yet. Not until more was revealed about Caesar’s position on the Capitol’s chess board.
❝I’m not ONE for stories. I K N O W FOR A FACT That this is the F A R THEST thing from a FAIRYTALE.❞
( SYFY SLEEPING BEAUTY ) with a small twist.
WRITTEN BY BROGEN
"Freedom."
She whispered, murmured, tasted the word. And wondered what it felt like. Her eyes did not turn towards the sky, even if she could see, the fell to the grounded and took roots, and she felt heavy, so heavy.
“Sometimes, I heard them sing in Greek.”
Those were the white days, days of dull clouds dazing her thoughts. And she breathed in, sharply and tore her gaze apart from the ground, back to the boy, her mouth a hard slash in her face.
“Do you feel free, boy? Ever?”
Greek. He looked up at that, a little startled -- wasn't that a forgotten language, gone by the wayside like Latin? It was a language, Peeta remembered, from the Dark Days, long before Panem became a country. (Funny, how one thought those days were white while another thought they were dark. Did it matter because he was entrenched in darkness?)
The question didn't catch him as off guard as it should have. Nor did his answer, steely and cold. "No," he said. "For me to be free... it's impossible." A pause. "Do you?"
We gathered together on this beautiful day to celebrate the moment where I got one and a half kittens as followers. I love kittens. Who doesn’t but honestly like this many kittens. wow. Also who splits a kitten in a half? not cool man. Anyway I want to celebrate today also the greatest kittens of them all and those people I just love and adore and appreciate and I will probably forget at least the poor kitten that got split into a half.
T H E C R E W
Okay most of those people here have been around from the very beginning or are just really wonderful and amazing and I do appreciate them a lot. Honestly guys, you are one of the main reasons i enjoy tumblr so much and love all of you.
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T H E T R I B U T E S
We talk and we roleplay together and it’s just the best thing ever. You all are wonderful and great and I love to see you on my dash. Each and every one of you make my experience here much better.
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T H E A U D I E N C E
We may not talk or roleplay, but I do love to see you guy around and I hope al of your keep up the great work! You are all amazing and I couldn’t think imagine tumblr without you.
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