#baniished

[experimentaliism]

limpiing,​ notasubject, heldthemtogether, baniished, & belongtothemxze followed you

「 ►ℂ◄ 」

       "I see you decided to sleep in today."

[savingconviction-blog]

man is the cruelest animal

{ baniished }

​ Lack of variation was a hard thing to settle into. Sameness was unatural, made Ben uncomfortable in his new home, kept his nerves stretched tight and his teeth grinding down. Two days had passed since he'd woken up in the box, that was a little over forty-eight hours as of his thinking about it. The denizens of this place he'd ended up in were not very forthcoming with information, but at least they hadn't given him too hard of a time when his eyes had brimmed with tears and confusion throughout most of his first day. "Ben? Already got a Ben, choose another." That's when he'd almost broken down, when the fear had settled enough that he'd given them this one piece of information he could remember, something precious to him -- as it was the only tangible thing bouncing around in his memory that wasn't just general knowledge. When he'd given that to them and they'd denied it, he'd just sat down. Sat on the ground and stared at the grass. A few boys had come by since then, trying to give him a pep-talk, telling him that they all went through the same thing, but he couldn't bring himself to answer.

It was the gates closing that had snapped him out of it, scared the shit out of him, and he'd stopped the next person he saw to ask about the ground shaking event. The random was clearly startled he'd snapped out of his catatonic state and hadn't said a word, just went to get whoever was in charge.

Since that point, he'd not really gotten any more in the way of answers. Mostly people telling him that if he just went along with learning all the jobs, and he worked hard, only then would his curiosity be satisfied. First day was a pass, second day he'd spent all day pulling weeds until his hands and knees hurt to high heaven. But, it wasn't any of that, it was the unnatural way the sun came up, the way the sky just brightened, that was what bothered him. He'd eaten his dinner without realizing, staring down at the empty plate, and when he looked up he saw a boy walking from one of the large doors. toward the cement bunker. The boy was holding his arm and even in the waning light he could tell there was blood. He was standing and as he took a breath in it was almost like he could smell it, sharp and metallic, even though he had no specific memory of every having seen blood in person before. He jogged over the grass and before he could stop himself he got in the boy's way.

"That looks like it's going to need stitches," he said, suddenly feeling idiotic for running over.

[klausvakr-archive-blog]

baniished replied to your post:debating on making my four blog a multi muse??

do ittt.

like i also wanna do a bellamy as well.

[earthmedic-blog]

wasn’t she from two?    ben doesn’t even    try to keep himself from staring; the district six    tribute isn’t sure where he stands. the games     are a joke, and he doesn’t want much to do     with them or those who support them. yet, in    the same aspect — he was glad to get away    from six, the peacekeepers, and the general    need to numb everything.

              ( okay, so he was working on the last               part of that; overcoming addiction was               almost as difficult as trying to figure out               how soon he’d end up dead in the games. )

          REGARDLESS ;;

   “aren’t you from two?” common sense would     dictate not speaking to someone who could slit    your throat without even glancing your way,     but hey — she was already staring so, where    was the harm in being friendly?

            ( plus, for a possible ruthless mass murderer,                                      she was really pretty. )

                         While not usually one for bold moves, now                          that she was part of the games in such a new                          way, Clarke had nothing to keep her from                           finding amusement in things she never would                          have done before.                          Smirking just a little she stepped closer to the                          boy. He must have been around her age; or at                          least he looked older than some of the people                          around. And of course he had somewhat of an                          idea of who she was. That was the little bonus                          amongst tributes when being a career - they                           all seemed to have an idea of who they were.                          It made introductions pointless; almost.                                            "I think that would be me, yes. Though I do                                             prefer Clarke. Sound much nicer than two,                                             doesn't it?"                           He seemed interesting enough and while she                            was still working on figuring out if any of these                           people around were of use, there was no harm                           in chatting in between training sessions. She                           would continue with that later on either way.                                           "Help me out with your name, will you? Or                                            do you prefer to be called six?"

[littleslicer]

Cᴏɴɢʀᴀᴛᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ᴛᴏ ʙᴀɴɪɪsʜᴇᴅ, ᴏᴜʀ Dɪsᴛʀɪᴄᴛ ₆ ʙᴏʏ ᴛʀɪʙᴜᴛᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ₂₃ʀᴅ Hᴜɴɢᴇʀ Gᴀᴍᴇs﹗

Tribute: Benjamin (prefers Ben) Age: Eighteen [18] District: Transportation [6] Weapon of choice: His weapon of choice is a knife, even if he’s a bit more blunt with the object — lacking the years of training that other, career districts, may have obtained.  Survival Skills: Ben is quick on his feet, which works in his favor for survival. If he can’t fight his opponent, he can out run them. He can soak in his surroundings and map out where he is. Fighting Skills: Ben is quite tall and just generally on the larger side thanks to his age and the work that his district puts in to building and maintaining means of transportation. He can easily overpower smaller opponents in the field of combat. Ben relies on a certain sense of speed to keep him alive. 

Tribute Sample:

There’s something almost morbidly pleasant about being reaped for the games. There shouldn’t be, like many others from more inexperienced districts, he should feel an overwhelming sense of fear. Being set into a ring with others who have been brought up to kill should spark something a bit more like weary in his heavy heart, but it’s far from the case. Being reaped means finding a royal treatment in bleak times. The Capitol, in all of it’s false nature, treats their cattle with the utmost kindness, turning them into celebrities for their own gain — and while Ben couldn’t say he backed the Capitol like most career tributes would ( the lashings he’d received from Peacekeepers over miniscule things ensured as much ), he wouldn’t reject their generosity.

His unfathomably warped mind settles into a pleasant buzz as silence takes shape. Every flicker of light, every step planted against the Earth beneath his feet, is a reminder that he is alive and as far from his overpopulated district as could be. He adored his family, perhaps even his friends, but being crammed into such an area with people who knew not how to keep their mind steady without pain killers? It was maddening. Stability was a lost idea on a boy who had spent most of his life in a home without the careful watch of a mother, locked only under the harsh, inebriated and heavily sedated, actions of a father who preferred to pass blame where it was not quite due.

The longer he walks the stretch of hall, the more silence begins to melt back. On the horizon, there are voices — and they pour through him like boiling water, scolding his insides with a hatred that he’d believed to have been left behind. The Capitol existed in comfort, they existed in wonderful conditions, with servants and entertainment and whatever their black hearts desired. What did they know about a city with too many souls jammed within its walls? What did they know of citizens reliant on sedatives to wipe away horrors? What did they know about walking the fine line of insanity each and every day? Ben had spent more time crawling out of his skin than anything else, and perhaps he could blame the society that swallowed him for that.

He pauses before doors, hands folding before him, twisting in a nervous fashion, though the motion is somewhat absent. The world seeps into his pores, realty bleeds into him, and a soul so easily overwhelmed burns to ashes under the weight of it all. Without the medication that sets him at ease, he is but an average soul ready snap. Perhaps that will be the one thing that keeps him alive for some time, until his mind escapes him and he is slaughtered simply for his unstable nature. He takes a heavy inhale, settles it into the murky depths of his lungs, and the doors open —