Claire Keane
@theartofmadeline
DEAR READER
RMH
Xuebing Du
Jules of Nature
Today's Document
Monterey Bay Aquarium
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Janaina Medeiros
hello vonnie
ojovivo
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
almost home
Product Placement
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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Kiana Khansmith
i don't do bad sauce passes
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@nothing-is-safe
Overdue Tag Dump. Ashton Jove Declan.
@nothing-is-safe
The magazine in her hand had boasted a cover story of The First Look at District Thirteen’s First Tributes emblazoned over the front. It had peeked Lilith’s interest and had held that interest only until she saw someone approaching. “District Thirteen isn’t only still real but now part of the Hunger Games? Bet they wished they’d stayed underground.” She tisked lightly, glancing at the magazine once more before tossing it to the table in front of her.
"I'm sure they did" He watched the magazine flop onto the table with a sigh. "I think they would've been better off if they never released the documentary..." Ash knew that it would spark something but he remembered hoping it wasn't going to be this. "What do you think of the tributes? Of Thirteen's, I mean."
Ashton Jove Declan — Victor's Ball 129.
@nothing-is-safe
“So what do you think of the newest victor?” Lilith asked when she came face to face with the victor. “Four was rather close this go around, but close only counts in horseshoes.”
"He's fine," Ashton raised a glass to his pursed lips. He tried not to have that strong of an opinion on him. It was a fucked up game, not a true testament to character. And given the circumstances, it was best that he didn't think beyond that. "Yeah... we can't win every year." He let out a slightly amused but bittersweet huff, the corner of lip twitched into a half smile. The relatively recent win had renewed his hope for future victors, but not near enough to handle loss well, he found.
After their brief run in at the ball, Abel felt a tiny bit less awkward when he bumped into Ashton on his way to ninth. Well, it would have been less awkward if the elevator they were sharing didn’t come to an abrupt halt, the lights flickering while Abel incessantly pressed all the buttons in hopes of the doors opening.
“This is— this isn’t good, right?” He asked, starting to panic when there was no movement and the usual elevator music cut off. “We’re gonna die in here? We’re gonna dehydrate and die, aren’t we?”
@nothing-is-safe
Ash didn't remember much about their encounter at the ball. Only that the two of them shared a light. He woke up fully clothed, minus the jacket. The cigarette must've been the end of it. And it was probably better that way. This would've been more awkward otherwise.
His eyes had been directed solely at his phone, and his tribute monitor pulled up. Had been; until the elevator stopped and lights started to flicker. "It's probably the damn storm." Ashton let out a frustrated sigh, more inconvenienced than frightened. Then more worried than inconvenienced when he heard the panic in Abel's voice." Abel… please." He spoke gently, eyebrows softening out of a furrow. Thank god this was one thing the games didn't torment him with. The light of his phone screen did plenty to light up the rectangle around them.
"We aren't going to do either." He imagined the fix wouldn't take long. Once someone realized the elevator wasn't working, which was bound to be soon. "I think we'll be okay."
“How many are left, still? Who’s left?” After Eliza and Aaron had both died, Leander had lost some interest in the Games. With no stake in it, it was hard not to lose interest, but now that it seemed so close to the end, he couldn’t help but be curious.
Ashton sat, elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward in his seat. His hands wrapped around each other in a loose fist. "Three." He hated that he had the answer ready. That his eyes had been glued to the screen all afternoon; even if that meant there were still tributes he wanted to win. "Medea, Mackrel...Gatlin?" He was literally on the edge of his seat at that point. Ash yawns, finally looking over at Leander. "I think I need more coffee or some shit."
@nothing-is-safe
It was frigid, but she needed the fresh air and so she was standing outside one of the doors. The inside of the venue was hot with so many bodies and the stench of death seemed to cling to everything in there - or maybe that was hormones, it was probably just her hormones. “I was just going back inside,” she started when she heard someone else step outside, “I hope you like snow it doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.”
"I...don't..." Ashton stifled a sigh when he answered Emilia's question. Glancing over with a short half-smile. Still, outside seemed like the lesser of two evils. His upper body curled into the padded velvet of his coat. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out there. Long enough to avoid Abel passing by, he hoped. Ash probably needed to go inside soon. "Four doesn't see much of it. What about One?"
“Do you want to go outside and make snow angels? I bet there’s enough by now,” Leander curiously looked outside, down at the street. Fat, glistening snowflakes were raining off the sky and there was no sign of stopping.
@nothing-is-safe
"Are you insane?" Ashton grinned even with raised eyebrows, skeptical. Ash didn't see snow often, but rolling around in the snow with a loosely fitted linen shirt was his last instinct. He needed another drink to even consider it. "I don't know about being cold and wet."
abel-evans:
Abel bowed his head when Ashton refused his offer, but perked up when he learned he needed a light. He dug deep into his pocket to find his, forgetting to light his own before he used the excuse to walk towards Ash, handing it over a little too eagerly.
He shook his head at the question, the alcohol he’d consumed warming his blood enough so that he was oblivious of the freezing temperatures. “I’m fine” he insisted, but took the jacket anyway, mostly because he knew there was no other option. “Soft” he commented, running his ringed fingers along the material. “Like you” he mumbled stupidly before he let the unlit cigarette hang from his mouth, waiting for a light.
He grabbed his pack out of the jacket pocket before handing the black velvet off. Resisting every urge to drape it over his shoulders, himself. Their hands touch when he reaches for the lighter. And Ashton does his best not to frown. And he succeeded until he heard Abel speak, anyway. The corners of his lips twitching between a sad smile and a half frown. "-Beginning to think I'm too soft." He rattled off to himself and hoped Abel couldn't hear him.
He hated the way he went to light Abel's first. The way he leaned in and cupped his hand around and above the flame to shelter it from the slight breeze and falling snow. The way his eyes flickered up towards Abel, clear with longing. Not strictly emotional or physical.
If he wasn’t so drunk, he’d avoid him, because things had been off ever since that night, but he was drunk, and his inhibitions were almost non-existent, so when he seen Ashton duck out towards a balcony, he followed him. He stumbled over his feet as he made his way outside, trying to act like this was an accidental meet up as he fished his cigarettes out from his pocket. “Hi” he said, clearing his throat when he realised his voice had cracked. “Want one?”
@nothing-is-safe
Ashton had meant to avoid him by stepping out. He'd spotted him far enough out that he was sure he wouldn't be noticed. He had the wrong idea, though. Warm air practically wafting outside when a door is pushed open behind him. He mouths a 'hey' at first. So quiet only steam is released into the air (in a somehow curt fashion.) His eyes, glancing anywhere but Abel's direction. He pretends, for both their sakes, that he didn't hear the break in his voice.
"'Have my own..." He reaches into his coat pocket, finally looking over in Abel's direction. "...forgot a light, though." Ash had a lighter, his fingertips moved over it as he retrieved his pack. There's desperation in his lie, a vie for some kind of intimacy.
"Aren't you cold?" He couldn't help but realize Evans was shirtless, outside, in the snow, in the middle of January. As lovely as ever, though. He can see so many of his tattoos, even in the dim lights of the oil lamps. The patterns of so many, his fingers knew by heart. Ashton had already pushed the padded velvet off his shoulders by the time he'd asked. It would keep Abel warm. He could manage without for a few minutes. Countless snow-days already coursing through his veins.
Ashton Jove Declan — Presidential Ball 129. Escorting himself in a slutty poet shirt.
Task 011. Polar Opposites.
His polar opposite is so much of what he see’s wrong with the world. Cruel, insincere, and apathetic, without hope for the world around them. They're calculated, reserved, stable, desensitized, and cold. They would validate every ounce of cynicism Ashton harbors. In many ways, Ash is afraid of becoming this person. Of his anger, passion, and drive for change becoming cruelty and senseless violence. Of his years as a mentor desensitizing him, diminishing the value of life. Of a lack of hope.
Task 010. What's Cookin'?
Is your character a good cook?
Yes! Ashton has been cooking most of his life. Most of his skills have been honed through trial and error. However, he also picked up some of his skills from his parents, especially his father. (Who taught him how to catch and cook seafood.) While he can cook well, he can only successfully bake 2 or 3 things. Those recipes are cherry shortbread cookies and cheesecake.
What’s their favorite recipe or dish, whether they’re good at making it themselves or not?
He has quite a few favorite recipes, and it’s hard for him to choose. One of his favorite recipes is mentioned in the last question (cherry shortbread cookies.) On good days his mother would make them. Other favorite recipes include clam chowder, crab-stuffed ravioli, pan-seared scallops, and various kinds of soups and stews! He can cook all of this very well.
Their general relationship with food?
Ash loves food. Cooking is an escape for him, and it’s also one of the ways he shows his love. He has a healthy relationship with food, especially the seafood he consumes. He catches his seafood himself and only takes what he needs. One many disconnects Ashton has with careers/the academy lifestyle is the diet culture and overall attitude towards food. He doesn’t understand labeling certain foods as good or bad, restricting food/certain kinds of food, or fasting. He eats what he wants and when he’s hungry.
Task 012. Arena Support Plans.
Ashton plans to support the tributes from District Four. Whether he includes Mackerel in the bunch or not... he's still deciding. (Facing a large amount of guilt with either decision.) For now, he will solely support Medea and Mercutio. However, he very well may end up supporting Mack, as well. Regardless, he feels an immense amount of pressure this games. Between the Dunes and the Odairs, especially. He's failed both families before, and he doesn't want that to happen again.
Task 005. Play On.
My Mirror Speaks, Death Cab for Cutie
With every sun that sets I am feeling more Like a stranger on a foreign shore With an eroding beach disappearing from under me And when my mirror speaks, it never minces words 'Cause these eyes don't shine half As bright as they used to do and they haven't for quite a while 'Cause I'm a man who hides from all that binds And a mess of fading lines And there's a tangled thread inside my head With nothing on either end I always fall in love with an open door With a horizon on an endless sea As I look around the ones who were standing right in front of me And then my mirror speaks with irreverence Like a soldier I can't command As it sees a frightened child in the body of a full-grown man And he's a man who hides from all binds And a mess of fading lines And there's a tangled thread inside his head With nothing on either end There's nothing on either end A new position from a different view And nothing changes but the slightest hues
Two, Sleeping At Last
Sweetheart, you look a little tired When did you last eat? Come in and make yourself right at home Stay as long as you need Tell me, is something wrong? If something's wrong, you can count on me You know I'll take my heart clean apart, if it helps your's beat It's okay if you can't find the words Let me take your coat And this weight off your shoulders Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you with every single thing I have Like a tidal wave, we'll make a mess Or calm waters, if that serves you best I will love you without any strings attached It's okay if you can't catch your breath You can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest I know exactly how the rule goes: Put my mask on first No, I don't want to talk about myself Tell me where it hurts I just want to build you up, build you up 'Til you're good as new And maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too I don't even know where to start Already tired of trying to recall when it all fell apart I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved, myself
parkourkid:
“Nah, I could never get enough of you,” Tio threw back, easily. He grinned. “No bars? Not even a small one? Medea’s going to ruin all my fun.” He took a few steps toward Ashton and shrugged, grabbing a random coat off of the back of a chair as he went. “Can you show me a good spot for ice cream, then? If we get too chilly, I’ll let you wear my coat.”
Ashton raised his eyebrows at the comment, puffing out his cheeks. If the first comment hadn’t been enough to catch his attention, this one certainly had. “Not even,” a slight frown found his face when Tio mentioned the instance with Medea. Ash’d yet to broach the topic with Abel, and wasn’t sure he even wanted to, now. It was just one more thing to add to a long list. “There are rumors I’d *rather not* deal with...”
‘Ice cream, in January–.’ He could’ve scoffed, playfully, even. If it was the only thing Tio said. Ashton scratched at the back of his neck with a sigh. His face was the brightest it’d been in their conversation, bright red in embarrassment. “T–." He wasn't even sure how to put what he wanted to say, what he needed to say. "We're not– this isn't going where you think it is."
abel-evans:
Abel didn’t want to leave him, of course he didn’t, but maybe he’d have to, because he knew he wasn’t being fair. It wasn’t fair to Ashton, and as he watched him cry because Abel was too selfish to let this be what it needed to be, what it should be, because he was too frightened to believe he could really be happy, it broke his heart almost as much as it would if Ashton had left in the first place.
“Ash– don’t cry” he said softly, his own voice cracking as he moved closer tentatively. “Please, I don’t want you to cry” he said with a frown, leaning forward and placing his hand over Ashton’s, hoping he wouldn’t pull away. “I’m sorry, I just– I can’t” he admitted, because as much as he wanted to wipe away the tears and give Ashton exactly what he wanted, there was no point in bullshitting him either.
“Maybe– I don’t want to say it Ash ‘cos it’s fucking killing me but maybe– maybe we’re not right for each other, I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to keep hurting you, I really fucking don’t, but it’s all I seem to be doing and it’s not fair, I just can’t– ” can’t let you love me.
.
He curled himself tighter before easing into the other’s touch. It didn’t take long for Ash to lean against the other, burying his face in the crook of Abel’s neck and balling his fists into the fabric of his shirt. ‘I’m trying not to.’ “I’m trying–.” He cut himself short, the sting in his throat making it almost unbearable to talk.
Ashton heard him, loud and clear. Maybe that's why he held on a little tighter. "You can't what?" He spoke weakly, pressing his forehead to the other man's chest. He didn't pull away. He didn't want to look at him, and he didn't want to let go. He kept saying, 'I can't.' All he wanted was an explanation. That's all he'd ever wanted. So he could try to help, so they could be happy. "Please..."
