DEATH / DISCRIMINATE.

AN INDEPENDENT & SELECTIVE MULTIMUSE BLOG / AS WRITTEN BY DANIELLE / 18+, TRIGGERING TOPICS / TEMP DASH ONLY. / MUSE LIST.

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my multi can be found here now. 

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𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 + 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞,     as written by danielle.      featuring muses from maze runner, the mortal instruments, t100, teen wolf, tua, and more!      please read rules before following + do not follow if you are underage.

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someday i’m going to move lydia back to @omenbrought ... someday

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compassonate‌,   hal + carter.

words can’t express how relieved she is to see him   –   to feel the warmth of his embrace wrapped around her.    hal feels as though she could cling to him forever if she could,  breathless gasps escaping her ribs in chuckled huffs.    hands soak in the way he feels so firm,  warm,  alive beneath her touch.    he’s alive.

‘     carter,  i can’t believe   –     ‘     hal starts,  mocha orbs looking up at his taller height,  but words are shoved back into lungs as her very breath is robbed from her chest at the searing kiss that burns against her lips.     nerves hum awake at the kiss,  and she reaches a hand up to the nape of his neck,  deepening the kiss into something more desperate,  searching,  aching for.     as though it might be their last.

before then,  she felt that she was unable to see him before the quarter quell  –  far too busy being under watchful eyes now that he’s a tribute again,  like her.    she ached for him,  and she can’t help but smile within the kiss,  remembering how he tastes against her tiers.     does he know that he curls about this reaction from her?      lithe body presses firmly against his own,  still too afraid to let him go just yet,  completely unaware that in the distance,  all of panem is going wild about their shared kiss   (  what is this?!    a kiss between different tributes?    did not see that coming!   ).

somewhere,   outside the arena,   onlookers go wild.    some with indignation,  some with disbelief,  some with utter delight    ---- and yet carter remains oblivious,  forgetting,  at least for the moment,  why this can’t happen.    in this moment,  all that matters is hal. 

his fingers curl in her sweaty,   messy locks,   their short time in the arena doing little to dampen her incredible beauty.   god,  he’s missed her   ---- her taste,  her sound,  her touch.   everything that makes up who this incredible woman is. 

drawing back,  carter presses his forehead to hers,   thumb brushing along the curve of her cheek.     ‘   we stick together,   ’     he vows,   gaze insistent,   intent on hers.     ‘   —-   you hear me?   you’re with me for the rest of the games.   ’

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dievoted·,   helo + natalia.

@deathdiscriminate  ,    sc

it still feels like he just emerged from the gates of prison,  guilt tethered to his bones and making home.     one of the things helo swore to do was to find natalie,  and make peace    –    even if she might not forgive him for getting caught.     finding her was not an easy task,  but he never expects anything to be easy when it came to her.     she’s a headstrong woman,  with stubbornness that might even be greater than his own.     so when he found her house,  nervousness ate at him before he finally reaches his hand up and knocks against her door.

‘   damn it,   ’    natalia hisses under her breath,   eyes snapping shut in a brief moment of pure,  unadulterated anger.   amelia had been just on the precipice of sleep,   lids growing heavy and breathing beginning to even out,    when the knock on the door rang through the house like a gunshot.    immediately,  amelia’s eyes flew open and the crying began    ---- so much for an hour or two of rest.    scooping her daughter into her arms,   natalia storms through the house,   hand twisting the door handle and yanking it open.     ‘   what?   ’  she snaps,   only to draw short at the sight of him.    he isn’t supposed to be out yet,    she hasn’t had time to figure out a plan,   he...      ‘   -------- helo?   ’  

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dievoted‌,   helo + harper.

sleep nearly wraps like temptation around his bones for a moment,  heavy lids fluttering slightly as his head seems heavier and harder to keep up.     but as soon as his name hums through the air,  harper’s voice cutting through the thick silence,  it’s like a shot of espresso,  keeping him awake.       ‘     not long,    ‘     helo lies,  a smile pulling on his features to see her stirring slightly enough to guarantee that she’s okay   –   she’s alive.         ‘     how do you feel?     ‘

palms press flat against the mattress in a feeble attempt at sitting up,    but it’s quickly abandoned.   still too weak from what the mountain men took from her,   though she’s just grateful to be alive.    harper forces a slightly wry smile onto her lips,   offering up a dismissive little shrug.     ‘   like i was repeatedly drilled into by strangers,   ’     she admits,   watching him from where her head now rests.    after a beat,  harper lets her own gaze wander,   checking him for any signs of pain.     ‘   -------- how do you feel?   ’  

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@dievoted,  helo + harper.

somehow,   she isn’t surprised to find him there when she wakes.  bleary-eyed,  with bruises blossoming across her fair skin and bandages plastered along her torso and thighs,   harper lets her head roll towards him.     ‘   helo,   ’  she murmurs,   a soft smile flickering across worn features.    body aches,  and it feels like a knife slices through her abdomen every time she draws a breath,  but she’s alive.    somehow,  despite everything,  she’s alive.      ‘   how long have you been sitting there?   ’  

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WHERE YOU CAN FIND DANIELLE:

ECHO,   active,   cagefound.  OCTAVIA BLAKE,   semi-active,   grownrage. KYLE WICK,   semi-active,   damngineered.  ISABELLE LIGHTWOOD,  semi-active,  carvesdeath MULTI-MUSE,  low activity,  deathdiscriminate 

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like this post  for a starter from harper mcintyre of the 100.

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dievoted·,  helo.

he knows it’s a lost game when she looks at him like he just asked for a bag of coke or something.     suddenly,  he wishes he could take the words back.    revealing that side of him is vulnerable,  too vulnerable for his liking.     any subject involving his parents are often shut down faster than they can take took in the conversation.     he doesn’t mind other people talking about their relationship with their parents,  doesn’t condemn them for growing up under a different household,  but he hates it when the mention of his own chokes the air.

he follows her when she winds around him,  pushing past him.        ‘     i hate that i have to do this,  but i can’t do this alone,  fi,  and i have no one.     ‘     no way was he going to take someone from his meetings   –   he liked that despite telling his stories,  there were at least some boundaries.     he doesn’t want them to be any closer than they already were.     and his friends are all junkies,  and helo cut them out of his life when he checked himself into the rehab facility.

he keeps close,  not quite touching but still enough in her orbit as she walks down her hall.     a part of him wants to reach out and grab her arm lithely and turn her around to face him   –   after all,  does she think she’s discreet when she checks him out?   –   but he refrains from doing so,  knowing that the fighter’s fire inside of her heart would only burn through her chest if he did something as demanding as that.         ‘     forget it.    i shouldn’t have asked.    i just thought maybe you’d understand because you have a piece of shit father too.     ‘

her piece of shit father is precisely why she falters,  arm freezing mid-air just before she drops her toothbrush into an old empty cup.   as much as she doesn’t wanna admit it,   she fuckin’ gets it: a shitty father that drains the life outta ya,  that constantly reminds you of your shitty genetics and even shittier upbringin’.    truth is, both fiona and helo are doin’ pretty damn good for themselves,  all things considerin’.   he’s sober,  which is more than she can say for most people on the south side.   if seein’ his dad pushed him to drink again,   could she really forgive herself?

fiona finally moves,   dropping the brush into the cup before turning to grab a wrinkled top from her makeshift closet.   ‘   straight there and straight back,   ’   she says,   voice even and sure.   this isn’t about fixin’ what’s broken between them  ---  it’s about shitty fathers and not screwin’ up helo’s sobriety.   casting a glance over her shoulder,   she fixes him with a pointed look.    ‘   you can thank shitty frank next time you see him.   ‘cause that’s the only reason i’m goin’.    ’

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dievoted·, helo.

his smile disappeared as fast as it appeared as dark brows furrowed over confused honey hues,  looking at his own hand now.     his five o’clock shadow is well into a light stubble along his jaw,  suggesting how long it has been since the day before,  and as he looks at his own gold ring,  and this is enough to cause him to sit upright.       ‘    whoa,  whoa,  whoa.     ‘      his head was still pounding,  and it was enough to prevent him from trying to reach into his memories and try to focus enough to decipher just what happened last night after they got blacked out drunk.          ‘     this is a joke,  right?     ‘

spoiler alert:   this probably isn’t a joke.   sure,  their friends are just twisted enough to think a stupid prank revolving around marriage would be funny,  but a glance around their too-bright room makes her heart sink.   they aren’t in her hotel room,   and unless helo booked his room while drunk,  they’d been upgraded overnight.   upgraded to a honeymoon suite,  apparently,  with complimentary chocolates and wine on the far table.   natalia slowly moves to sit up,  her own hazy gaze flickering between his hand and hers,  the pounding in her head doing very little to make this situation any better.   this couldn’t be real,  could it?   surely she’s still having some alcohol-induced fever dream,   and she’ll soon wake up in her own bed,  alone.   totally & completely alone.   ‘   —-   our friends are too cheap to upgrade our room for a joke.      ’      which means,  if  she doesn’t wake up soon....  ‘   we’re married.      ’

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compassonate‌,  hal.

@deathdiscriminate  ,    plotted

baited breath traps in chest as she glances around her surroundings with her machete firm in her grasp.     since the bell echoed through the leaves of their arena,  all she could think was to get somewhere safe   –   and then worry about finding carter.     if he wasn’t dead already.     she heard two cannons go off already that day,  and she somehow couldn’t shake the feeling that something happened to him.

just like the last time she was in the arena,  she forgets about the cameras lurking in peepholes placed strategically around the map.     she forgets that all of panem are watching her and the others slaughter each other to death.    she forgets about all of it when it’s her life on the line.     branches snap nearby and she’s on edge,  feeling a familiar shiver take to her spine.     she has her weapon ready,  lithely stepping towards the source,  about to swing until    –

‘     carter!     ‘       she gasps out,  running to him.

he’s doing this for her.  that’s what he keeps reminding himself,  at least,  as the blood of their adversaries splatters across his chest and throat and hands.   as bodies collapse in front of him and he watches the light drain from his next victim’s eyes,  he reminds himself that it’s for her.   that each person who dies at his hands is another person she won’t have to face;   that he’ll slaughter every tribute he comes across if it means keeping her safe.  

he doesn’t even know if she’s still alive,  and yet he fights like he’ll defend her to his last breath.

carter’s footsteps remain light,  quiet.   though it’s been years since he trained for the games,  it’s in his blood.   it’s rooted in the muscles rippling along his chest and back,  in the childhood he lost to endless trainings for the games.   narrowed dark eyes remain focused,  unblinking,  as he scans the foliage  --  searching for signs of life,  of the next victim to fall prey to his rage.  only when he does spy movement,  it’s the sort of movement that’s familiar.  achingly so,  his heart lurching into his throat as he suddenly bursts forth from the trees.  hal.   arm curves around her waist,  clutching her very-alive,  very-beautiful body to his chest;   the other,  moving to tuck his throwing knives into his pack before anchoring fingers in her hair.    ‘   —-   you’re alive,   ’   he breathes,  relief coloring his tone.   faintly,  he’s aware of the cameras catching their moment somewhere in the distance,  but he doesn’t have the energy to care.  he’s killed for her,  he lives for her,  and finally he has her in his arms.  with a low groan,  he pulls her back  ---  only to pull her close again,  this time so his mouth can find hers in a desperate, frenzied kiss.

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dievoted·,  helo.

‘    funny,  i could ask you the same thing,    ‘     helo remarks back,  timbre void of the usual lightness it held.   any other morning,  he would still cling to the amusement his timbre usually carries,  but not that morning  –   not when it felt like his head felt like it was going split open.     however,  he does manages a smile,  bright pearl teeth peeking between brims,  as a chuckles rumbles from deep within at the sight in front of him,  past her naked form was a sparkly band on her finger.     reaching over,  he grabs her hand and lifts it into her eyesight,  and asks,      ‘    i know what my next question is going to be,  though   –     wanna take a guess what it is?     ‘       and,  helo morris is back,  with a simper practically rooted on his features.

for the record,  a sober natalia mendoza would never wear a sparkly anything.  not a t-shirt,  not makeup,  and certainly not a damn wedding band.   unfortunately,  drunk natalia mendoza apparently makes questionable life choices that are much, much larger than a misplaced affinity for things that glimmer in the morning   ( afternoon? )   sunlight.    ‘   what the hell?    ’    nat whispers,  staring,  open mouthed,  at the hand dangling in the air  ---  and the hand that’s wrapped around it,   the sparkly band on helo’s finger somehow equally as horrifying as her own.     ‘   —-   you’re wearing the same damn ring, helo.   ’

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dievoted·,  helo.

@deathdiscriminate  ,    plotted

his head felt like it was pounding against his skull as he woke up that morning,  raising a hand to block out the sun that bled through the curtains and assaulted his eyes.     a low groan rumbled through his chest but then immediately,  he regretted it,  hangover clinging to his brain like a lifeline.     rolling over to the otherside,  he lifts his head even more immediately after as he notes that he’s not alone.       squinting through the tiredness of his eyes,  he tries to decipher who the other body is in the sheets with him,  and then raises his brows as he recognizes the person   –   a friend,  not a stranger.         ‘     nat?     ‘ 

the sun is too damn bright.  seriously,  it’s like someone gave the sun permission to shine extra bright today just to torture her and her brutally hungover mind.   without even bothering to open her eyes,  natalia drags the nearest pillow over her face,  ready & willing to submerge herself into blissful darkness.   but whatever brief sliver of bliss was granted by the pillow is immediately shattered,   an all-too-familiar voice cutting through the silence like a bomb going off inside her own mind.    slowly,  she lifts the pillow,  confused eyes squinting in his ( very naked ) direction.    ‘   —-   why the hell are you in my bed?   ’

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write with natalia or fiona

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@dievoted· ,  helo / isabelle. 

even still hindered by alcohol and the cloud of his drugs,  helo could see the guilt that washed over isabelle beside him.     none of this was supposed to happen.     he doesn’t blame her   –   he blames himself.     he was the one who initiated the kiss,  who tore apart any self control he had to get a taste of her,  finally.     who can be so lucky to say that the love of their life returned from the dead?     even then,  helo didn’t feel so lucky,  with the gold band around his finger.

brows knit together at her suggestion,  bones suddenly groaning in response at the idea of having to move.     already,  he felt so tired,  and could easily fall asleep on the tiles.     control dissolved with the alcohol,  he remembers nights when she urged him to go to bed,  but drunk or high or both polluted his conscious and he would kiss her neck constantly until she complied beneath his touch and tangled with him in the sheets.     now,  it seems almost sad.     isabelle,  helping her ex boyfriend who have moved on in a blink of an eye to her,  with a relapse.        ‘     all those years ago   –     ‘     to him at least,       ‘     –    you were going to say no.     weren’t you?     ‘

his  words  are  like  a  punch  to  the  gut.    there  were  moments,   fleeting  ones,    when  she  considered  it.    moments  when  her  fears  consumed  all  rational  thought,     when  her  mother’s  warnings  were  all  she  could  grasp  onto:     never  trust  a  man  with  your  heart,  isabelle.    don’t  make  the  same  mistakes  i  did.     but  deep  down,    from  the  moment  helo  sank  onto  one  knee,   she  knew:    she  would  say  yes.   she  would  pledge  her  life  &  her  heart  to  the  only  man  she’s  ever  trusted  enough  to  love.

only  she  let  those  warnings  linger  too  long,    spent  too  many  days  agonizing  over  whether  she  could  let  herself  be  so  vulnerable,    and  she  lost  him.     lost  him  to  some  other  woman  who,    she’s  convinced,    can  never  love  him  the  way  she  did.    does.     ‘   you  don’t  believe  that,    ’     izzy  whispers,    her  guilt-laden  gaze  finally  landing  upon  his  once  more.    she  doesn’t  even  bother  to  mask  her  expression,     all  of  her  fears  and  hurts  playing  out  across  her  features.    ‘   i  needed  time,   helo.    i  didn’t  think  we  were  ready.    ’     if  she  could  do  it  all  over  again,    if  she  could  take  herself  back  to  that  moment  and  her  ring  and  his  hopeful  face...     ‘   ----   i  was  always  going  to  say  yes.    ’

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hello,   give me more reasons to write fiona gallagher,  please