TASK 008 - MAKE A PROFILE
lotta books, music, and nerdy shit. someone throw him in the trash!

roma★
Misplaced Lens Cap
Show & Tell

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Cosmic Funnies

Love Begins
hello vonnie
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
styofa doing anything
Peter Solarz

tannertan36
Jules of Nature
Keni

Discoholic 🪩

Kiana Khansmith
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$LAYYYTER
Game of Thrones Daily
NASA
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Finland

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from India
seen from United States
seen from Romania
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seen from Indonesia
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@eunoiiias
TASK 008 - MAKE A PROFILE
lotta books, music, and nerdy shit. someone throw him in the trash!
noliereyes:
“Maybe one of us will be the next one,” Nolie mused, pointing to the blank spot next to Kelvin. “The odds that it’s gonna be a kid this year are pretty high. There’s a lot of us.” Nolie could still feel the electricity in her fingertips, the tingle tickling her hands. “Yeah, it didn’t feel great. It would feel awful if I kept poking it.”
Nolie turned to the boy again, looking him up and down. He was small and scrawny, tiny in a different way than she was. She at least had the lean muscle despite her size, but she couldn’t tell with him. “My name’s Magnolia, but everyone calls me Nolie. I’m from Two.”
even thinking about seeing his face on that next empty spot sent shivers down his spine. the chance he’d win was slim, certainly. that didn’t stop it from giving him the smallest sliver of hope. a pinhole of light down a tunnel that he thought would never end. maybe he’d come out of the arena, bruised and battered, and come out to see his sister again.
he fought back a bullish smile.
"i’m mordecai, from district three. i don’t have a nickname, but you can make one up if you’d like.” the judgement he felt from nolie was overwhelming. a young, career girl who was assumably more fit than he could ever be could slaughter him with ease. it was like that pinhole of light was waning the more he spoke to her. he wasn’t sure he’d cut this off before he had another panic attack, or continue to stay resilient, hopefully making a new ally.
TASK 006. ARENA PLANS
quality content
TASK 003. GIRL PUT YOUR RECORDS ON
ever feel like you want to punch the world, but cry at the same time? well, this is the playlist for you. he puts on these grunge/rock bangers of the 90s and 2000′s and headbangs it out
this mixtape includes…
teenage dirtbag - wheatus / god am - alice in chains / lithium - nirvana / creep - radiohead / hopeless opus - imagine dragons / my boy - billie eilish / losing my religion - r.e.m / pumped up kicks - foster the people
TASK 001. ALL THE WORLD’S A STAGE
thevultur:
‘‘Off the record, and you haven’t heard it from me, but I think next year we’ll have journalist tributes only for the Reaping theme,’‘ Lysander sighed, already tired of this year’s gossip, tossing a magazine in the trash where it belonged.
“that’s not good.” his stomach churned after he spoke. not only because of the bite in his tone, but the thought of more people being sent to die was stressful to even hear about, even now. especially now. “unless that’s, like, sarcasm. which would suck for me.” he spoke fast. like a kid, this time. an idealist kid. a cadence fit for him better than a product of anxiety fueled cynicism and pessimism. “sounds like sarcasm. it’s sarcasm, isn’t it?”
atomvox:
“Ah, it’s okay, me neither,” he says, feeling more worried by the second. Atom could be quite the worry wart, though it was usually about himself. Is today gonna be my last? Will the medicine stop working? But since he had gotten here, that had seemed to stop. Maybe it was finally having an answer to his worries, to the things that plagued him, made him feel as ease. Where others were filled with dread, he almost felt relieved. At least, in just a few weeks, he wouldn’t have to deal with this constant ache in his lungs. “Could you? That’d be good,” he says, pausing for a moment before saying, “I’m Atom by the way, from District Five.”
“well that’s... that’s good, i think,” he nodded. “i’m mordecai vostok, district three. i heard district five was cool, though.” he laughed, awkwardly and out of place. taking the three seconds he had to mull over what else he could say without twisting his own words into something that could easily make him sad, but to no avail. instead of sounding dumb on accident, he said nothing on purpose.
ofvigilcnce:
it was oddly comforting to know that there was someone else as young and nervous as she was, but that meant that her chances of truly finding where she was going significantly decreased due to her present company. it was a win-lose, situation, but she turned around, pointing to the hallway that was now right in front of her. “we can try this way?” she asked, momentarily looking back at him, before starting to walk in that direction in silence.
“sure,” he nodded, feigning focus to spend a little more time with the girl next to him. he doesn’t know why. good prospects, half baked ideas. it wouldn’t hurt in the long run, hopefully. “what is your name?” mordecai asked, his voice shaky and almost comically pubescent. he remembered how young he really was, compared to some of the other kids who’ve won recently. he’s clueless as to what it’s going to look like, what’s going to be in it, how many people are going to treat him like shit stuck to the bottom of their shoe. it was the uncertainty, though, that kept him going.
noliereyes:
There was a hallway in the Tower that housed the pictures of every Hunger Games victor to date. Nolie stood in front of it, her hands clasped behind her back as she slowly walked back and forth, taking in the pictures. She couldn’t help but notice there were other thirteen year-olds on the wall, and twelve-and-fourteen year-olds too. She couldn’t help but smile at the picture of Trixanna and the newest one of Kelvin.
She could do this. And if she couldn’t, Axel would.
Nolie reached out to touch one, only to feel a zap of electricity. She’d heard rumours of force fields in the Capitol to keep tributes from chucking themselves from the roofs, and apparently they had them to keep the portraits from vandalism. But Nolie wanted zero part of that. She was just trying to get home and deal with the worst news of her thirteen years. Nolie felt someone come up beside her and turned, seeing a boy about her age. “There’s a lot of them, huh?” she asked, gesturing to the more than a century of history on the walls. // starter for @eunoiiias
mordecai was focused on other victor’s faces as the girl next to her spoke. he was studying the faces of past victors just as critically as her, too. he took the paintings and turned it into a game; name their arena and what strategy they used to win their games and he’ll allow himself some of those cookies he saw in the canteen. sure, this wasn’t going to do much, since he’s not been alive for even a quarter of the games and pays little attention to them in the first place. it’s better than stewing in his room, sobbing erratically and itching at his arms until he breaks skin.
he did, however, hear the zap of electricity that came from a little more than a foot away from him. he was startled, and a little concerned at first, and remembered that was his sister’s handiwork. he chuckled, shoving his hands further into his pockets and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “hundreds of years, so many space. but, uh, i wouldn’t recommend touching that anymore. my sister told me it’ll make you nauseous.”
@airyariel
Mordecai has been in the Capitol long enough for it to feel empty. The new world charm has worn off into something he would soon come to realize is nothing but an empty, hollow facade. He walked along hallways he got bored of as soon as he saw them. The haughty staff were irritating and obnoxiously colored decor were an eye sore. However, the butterflies that invaded his stomach haven’t left yet. His hands haven’t stopped shaking. Apathy has yet to puppeteer him entirely. Not yet.
Instead of locking himself up in a dull room that he’d be itching to get out of, he roamed long, empty halls, humming old show tunes his mom accidentally woke him up with on late nights and early mornings. He was so stuck in his own head, thinking of what might or might not be strategy and the million ways he could cut his life short, the voice of the person down the hall failed to register.
To say that Fissile was scared would be a gross understatement. She wasn’t scared, she was terrified, frozen in fear, nearly paralyzed at the thought of ending up in the Tribute Tower for the foreseeable future. After watching the last games and seeing how brutal they were, she did not have high hopes for herself or her brother at making any allies or friends among the kids there. It seemed that all any tribute was ever focused on was winning, and Fissile and Atom would be liabilities in the arena, more likely to die in the bloodbath than make it past that first hour.
She thought that she was following their escort to the correct floor, that she had stuck together with the team from five and that she could lock herself in her bedroom until it was time to leave for the Tribute Parade, but when the person in front of her turned around, it wasn’t someone she recognized, and she realized she was somewhere entirely different. “Oh, I’m s-s-sorry, I think I t-t-took a wrong turn. Could you, um, would you mind helping me?”
“i don’t think so,” he smiled nervously, his eyes jumping from the mile high ceiling, the the gaudy chandelier, to the shiney floors. anywhere but on the girl in front of him. mordecai could hear the nervousness in her voice. the nameless voice, the faceless voice. he could tell that she was just as nervous as he was. almost. almost.
“i’m just as lost as you are.” a sigh escaped him. “i feel like if i go any further, i’ll get stranded in here and die. if you want to, though, i’ll look with you. power in numbers, or something. if not, we die together.”
Atom worriedly walked the halls of the Tribute Tower, looking in every nook and crany that he could for his sister. He hadn’t seen her all day, and that made him feel nervous, as well as useless. He had volunteered to protect her, to make sure she would get back to their parents. If he couldn’t even keep track of her during the easy part, he was doomed when it came to the arena. But, he tried not to think about that. He would be dead during those Games, after he made sure Fissle could win. Maybe he had accepted death, but that didn’t mean he wanted to think about it all the time.
Turning the corner, he saw a person, and without a second thought, he walked up to them, “Have you seen a girl with hair like mine, but a bit shorter, and looks a bit like me?” If he sounded out of breath, it was because he had done a bit of running. Running didn’t agree with him, his lungs strained too easily.
“i’m sorry?” mordecai stuttered, what was left of his nails between teeth and chapped lips. “i’m not too good with faces, sorry.” his apology was sincere. sincere enough, anyway. there was doubt and hopelessness laced in his voice.
his usual sense of optimism was fading with every minute caged up in that godforsaken tower. he couldn’t get away from the fact that he was being paraded around, packaged and sold as some sort of brand, and being sent to die. he guessed nihilism and cynicism would be something he would have to get used to.
“i could help you look for her, if you want.”
“…I hate you.”
if i throw away my shot, is this how you’ll remember me?
mordecai vostok.