#entropay

[70tharc]

             ❝      𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬'𝑺 𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑴 coming in, we’d best go inside.    ❞        /     @entropay​     *   sc.

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[everdeene]

@entropay​ said: don’t go

          His voice is so soft and fragile, she could almost hold the sound in her hands. They had been here once before, she remembered. They had sat in the window looking at the colored lights of the Capitol below. How young they had been then, how changed they were now. Everything was, and yet, somehow, it was all still exactly the same. It was true what Haymitch had said: this would never end. If they survived, they would be tethered to the Capitol like animals. But at least... at least they would be tethered together. 

          Her features eased as she paused in the doorway and turned to look at him. He looked so small on the massive bed. She had never seen a bed so big before they’d come here. Katniss padded barefoot over to the structure and climbed up next to him, settling herself against him. He was warm and solid against her, and somehow he still smelled like bread. Maybe that was all in her mind, or maybe that was just what home smelled like. She nestled her face against the curve of his collarbone and breathed him in. Something hard in her chest eased, some tension she hadn’t known was there, and Katniss realized: there was no one else she would rather be tethered with. 

[everdeene]

Starter for @entropay​. 

          Haymitch was barely conscious, and the water from the shower had done very little to change that. It had also proven ineffective in removing the vomit from... well, most of his upper torso. Katniss leaned over his bloated form to turn off the water, lips pressed into a grim line as she began to unbutton his stained shirt. They would have to soak it if they had any prayer of getting that stain out. What a waste of food. Haymitch was so rich, he probably didn’t even think of food. Or the stain. He probably had a room full of shirts to vomit on. 

          The smell was overwhelming, and she had to turn her head to breathe in. “Do you think you can roll him?” It was the safest way to get the shirt off without risking injury to them both. Wouldn’t that be rich? If they slipped in the fancy train tub and crippled themselves before they even got to that arena? “Careful,” she warned, peeling the wet fabric to one side. 

[odairing-a]

@entropay said: are — are you okay ? /  steven universe babey

IT’S  HARD  TO  KEEP  TRACK  OF  TIME  HERE,  especially after  the  games  have  completed and  the  tribute center  is  emptied of  people  to anchor  him  to  any  sense  of  time.  screens  have  blanked  from  broadcasts  reminding them  of  a  constant  countdown within  the  arena, and  what  remains is  eerie  liminal silence  stretching  down  the  halls. when  he  was  seventeen  he  tried  to  tick  off  days  in  a  notebook after  mags  had  gone  home  with  the  rest,  but  around  day  four  his hands  trembled  so  badly  every  time  he  held  the  pencil  and  anxieties  wailed  so  intensely  for him  to  shut  the  book  and  shut  his  eyes  and  shut  his  ears  that  he  did  just that.  he  never  tried  again  with  the  notebook.  it  just  wasn’t worth  it.  

finnick  became  aware  of  the  void  gnawing through  his  chest  before  the  capitol  really began  to  sink  their  teeth  into  him,  but  where  once  it  moaned,  now it  howls,  insatiable  and starving  for  something to  fill  it,  make  him  whole.  has he  ever  been whole?  did  he  ever  know  how?  it cries  for  mags, demands  her  presence like  a  lonely child  and  a  frightened  one, but  she  is  not  here.  they  sent  her  home  days  ago and  there  is  no  one  to  cradle his  rotting  bones  and  squeeze his  hand  when  the  revolting stench  of  his  own  decaying body  wreathes  around and  chokes  his  lungs.  it cries  for  annie who  was  never here—  they  never let  her  come  (  though soon  enough  she  will  examine the  ugly  bruising lacing  his  collar and  intimate  places and  be  reminded that  the  man  she  loves  does  not  belong  to  her!  )  and  he  knows  this  to  be  a  good thing  but  oh  how  selfishly he  desires  her  comfort!  for  his  angel  to  tell  him  she  is  here,  she  is  here,  and nothing  more,  for what  conjured  words  could  possibly soothe  a  riotous sea?  no  one  will  save  him.

when  they  touch  him,  they  touch  a  disgusting  thing  with  white toothed  smiles  sewn to  his  lips  and  limbs  that  part for  a  body  to  place  itself  between. they  touch  a  corpse  and grab  its  hips  and  chin  and  open  its  mouth  and  snatch its  hair  and  when  he  breathes  the air  is  foul and  tastes  of  death.  they never  seem  to  mind.  they  never  notice at  all—  his  saccharine  lips are  too  sweet  mapping  across the  atlas  of  their  skin. they  become  enamored with  his  putrid lies  purred  hot  against  an  ear,  and  for  a  dead  thing  oh,  how  beautiful  those eyes.  

an  hour  ago,  he  was  digits  clamped over  the  halves of  his  face  to  catch  sobs  raking through  his  lungs  as  the  showerhead  thrummed against  the  linoleum floor.  the  pink-ribbon nail  marks  clawed down  his  back  were  pressed the  wall.  there  is  no  one  to  hear  his  weep  and grieve  when  the  hardened  mask  frozen  over  his  exterior splits  apart  and something  black  and ugly  and  revolting slithers  out.

now,  he  sits  on  the  tiled  floor  of  the  hospital  and he  does  not  remember  walking here.  he  had  a  thought that  it  would  be  nice  to  come  up  here  and  keep  peeta  company. or  maybe  he  just  didn’t want  to  be  alone,  himself. they’re  keeping  him  here  too,  although  not for  the  same  reason  or  else  peeta  wouldn’t  be  in  the  hospital  at  all.  he  should  ask  shouldn’t  he…  has  he  asked  already? has  he  addressed peeta  at  all?

his  own  sobs  are  an  echo  ringing in  his  hears. he  feels  locked within  his  own  head,  dull  eyed,  silent numbness  crawling  over  every  inch of  his  skin.  his  hands  are  wreathed together,  twisting  into odd  shapes  completely beside  his  notice.

he  blinks,  expressionless  gaze  fixed  on  the  cement wall  before  them,  the  world  suddenly  coming into  focus.  there  should  be  a  window there,  but  there  isn’t.  there  aren’t  any windows  anywhere  in this  entire  fucking building.  without  drawing away  his  gaze  he  shoots peeta  a  trembling thumbs  up.

[70tharc]

btw ur annie is so amazing n so beautiful i love her?? ur character building for her is inspirational and it’s just so nice to see u give and underrated character that attention, i especially love how u focus on her being a career tribute!! like yes 🥺 it’s what annie deserves

lou idk how many times i’ve said that i love you but i’ll say it again : I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!! and i'm only as good and inspired as the people i write with, so i'm so lucky i get to write with you and your absolutely stunning take of our boy peeta 

[70tharc]

              ❝      𝑷𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑨, 𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑩𝑬𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑰𝑭𝑼𝑳.      ❞            there’s a smile of wonder upon annie’s face as she takes in the cake before her  :  a delightful swirl of green and blue CRESTING WAVES. it turns a touch rueful after a moment, her nose crinkling.          ❝   𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑨 𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑴𝑬 he’ll just destroy it.    ❞          /    @entropay​