an orange skirt, no not skirt, kilt was how her stylist had described it. a cream sweater is something vida wouldn’t choose in a million years to wear herself, though she has to remember that nothing was up to her anymore. her eyes fall down on to the hiking boots she’d been so kindly gifted, at least they’re practical. her hair is straight, as per usual and it hangs at her shoulders, the only difference to its standard style in the small french-fishtail braid that held the left side of it to her head. the hovercraft journey had been uneventful, she was placed opposite the female tribute from district eleven, who’s name had escaped her memory. something related to agriculture, she guessed.
the corner of her eye hangs on the glass tube that awaits her as her stylists warm hands smooth everything down. she could thank her, but they’d never been close. vida didn’t even remember their name. the woman gives her a warm smile as she’s ushered in to tube.
there’s only one thing vida can compare to the feeling of being raised into the games, as the darkness of the catacombs transitions into the bright faux sunlight of the arena. it’s like the feeling of waking up on a bright day. her eyes adjust slowly, the glistening of the cornucopia catching their attention immediately. give me trees, she mentally prays. she spots them in the distance, a forest of some kind. turning her head like a owl she spots the rest of them mirroring it. things were getting off to a good start. sixty, fifty nine, fifty eight... south-east sits a castle, though vida has no intention of going towards it. the castle seemed like the place the careers would make home. castle fit for the royalty they thought they were.
thirty, twenty nine, twenty eight. her pupils fixate on the pile of treats overfilling the cornucopia. a rope, that’s what she was looking for. she spots a coil some meters away from her. to retrieve that would mean running right in front of various other tributes, including a career of two. time for plan b . ten, nine, eight. her knees bend, she focuses in on a first-aid kit that hopefully contains bandages. it was a safe choice. seven, six, five.
be wild vida, be wild. that voice in her ears, that voice. she recognised it, like someone she’d ran in to as a child. vida, vee, wild child. that gruffness was something she’d only heard once before. it was him.
the claxton pierces her ears like a high pitched scream. she doesn’t remember much after her feet carry her through the bloodbath. aside from the fact that she fails to retrieve the first aid kit. the boy who beats her to it doesn’t ring a bell in her mind. the fogginess overpowering her. she’d not in top shape though, stumbling over in a not so graceful style. she does manage to get the socks though. yay.
she’s out of the bloodbath like a light, as if some new found sense of urgency to survive had washed over her. she could see him again. she could hug him again. her foot fails her a few times, still suffering from the effects of her scuffle with the other tribute. there’s no consideration for arista as she flees. they’d agreed to keep running until they found each other. she clutches the damn socks in her hands as she tears through the trees. then BAM.
the tribute from district eleven comes out at her so suddenly that vida could swear she was invisible . she takes vida to the ground so easily. after all, the girl was probably used to climbing trees all day --- or whatever they did in district eleven. she pins vida to the ground, her fist raising in the air to deliver a blow. vida’s head moves out of the way at the last second, blossom’s fist collides with the ground. then once more, only this time, the fist collides with her nose.
this is it. all those thoughts about hugging her grandfather once more would come to a grissy end and she would be one of those faces flashed in the sky later that night. be wild. if only she could find the energy. be wild. just one wave of strength. BE WILD.
out of no where she throws her head forward, colliding directly with her target, the girls face. the impact send both reeling backwards, freeing vida from the clutches of the stronger girl. she abandons the socks for a moment and leaps forward like an alley cat. her hands come together as she lands on the girl, they clutch her neck like a handle. if she had rope it would be easier. the stronger female struggles beneath her, making quite a bit of noise.
they’re too close to the cornucopia, someone will hear the struggle. she places her right hand over the girls mouth and nose, the latter part being an accident. the left keeps itself clutched on to the neck as if clutching on to reality. ‘ shut up! ’ she whispers, teeth gritted.
as if on command, the girl does just that. vida doesn’t feel her mouth moved underneath her hand. in fact, she doesn’t even feel a single breath. there’s a reason for that.
the face underneath her is white as a sheet, aside from the dark ring slowly forming around her neck. dead.
TTWTASK 011 - THE LAUNCH ( LANDON )
aka. landon vs fannypacks
The thought of possible impending death turned Landon into an insomniac. After returning from the roof he’d gone straight to his room to enjoy, what was possibly his last night sleeping in a bed. Except he didn’t enjoy it. To clarify, it wasn’t the dying that scared Landon. It was what he’d be leaving behind and the promises he would break. Promises he’d made to Hickory, Cecily and even his mother in some ways. He’d spent the whole night justifying his decision to himself over and over again. If he hadn’t volunteered he wouldn’t be here.
In the end he managed to get a couple hours rest before he was been woken up by a rather cheery stylist. Breakfast went as well as it could. Landon shoved so much food into his mouth that he wasn’t able to answer the questions of ‘How are you feelings?’ or ‘Are you ready?’ Food was something he considered the most important thing that morning. Fortunately, his large frame meant he could consume enough that would probably get him through two days. Then after an intensely awkward long silence a series of nods between the escorts and mentors told Landon that it was time. The mentors gathered round and said a few things to him, things that didn’t make much of an impact on him until Lark said some final words as she was leaving the room. He hadn’t expected her to say much that really stuck with him. Just the usual Lark-isms. But her words as she left once again reaffirmed why he was doing this. "Thanks for not sending me a twelve-year-old." Though there was selfishness behind the words, Landon still let them sink in. After all, the only thing that stopped him being driven insane by his own actions was the reminder of the promise he made to himself: He wasn’t going to let another child die.
Landon went through the motions that all tributes went through when preparing for the games. The stylists went to work on combing back his hair, which he despised. Then they brought out what he was destined to wear. When he says the simple jeans and white shirt he thought they’d made a mistake and accidentally gone through his old wardrobe. However, the ghastly denim jacket was certainly NOT something he’s choose for himself. Then there was the reflective pouch. He could already guarantee that’d be coming off if he survived the bloodbath. As for the jacket, maybe he’d pick all the odd patches off. Something about the outfit in general told him that this was going to be an interesting games. Usually the outfits matched the style of the arena. His stylist hadn’t stopped talking about how much they loved the kilts that went with the Scottish Highlands theme last year. But what went with double denim? He stopped himself from thinking about it and just waited in silence once again for another conversation in nods. These nods meant it was really time. He was ushered into the tube by a peacekeeper who apparently didn’t believe he could walk by himself. Maybe the whole peacekeeper force was still holding a grudge after his behavior at the reaping.
As the glass closed around him tightly, Landon took what he assumed would be his last gulp of reality. There was the sound of a seal closing around him, then a whirring, then he felt himself moving upwards.
The first thing he was aware of was…white. A lot of white. As his eyes adjusted he thought that perhaps they were surrounded by glaciers. However, he didn’t feel cold. And the air, it didn’t feel like he was outside. There was a reason for that. If you were to ask Landon was his worst scenario for the arena would be, he would’ve said ‘Anything inside.’ As a child he’d always enjoyed being outside. That’s why he never told his mother about the hole in the roof (And because he knew she’d never fix it anyway.) He’d hoped for an arena with air flowing through it and so much space that he could be miles away from everyone. But no, he was closed in. Irritatingly so. As the countdown started he looked up to find windows blocking the sun from truly shining down on his face. Then one, two, three floors of stuff. He’d never seen a building like this. Was he alone in that? He scanned the area to see other tributes reactions to see if they were as bewildered as he was.
He spotted Nadya a little bit away from him. He knew better than to try and get her attention. That had screwed over Katniss Everdeen. So instead he turned his own focus away from her and back to the countdown clock. Thirty seconds left of normality. He counted in his head as he looked up. There were several different paths heading off of each floor. What seemed like buildings…maybe stores. This must be some sort of market place. Fifteen. Time was slipping away from him. He eyed the weapons. However, the various bags and things were confusing his eyes. Ten. He needed to make a plan. And fast. He knew the better items were going to be near the cornucopia. Five. Shit! The times was still going…He wasn’t ready for…
The gong sounded.
Before Landon knew it, everyone else was running in or away from the cornucopia. He just followed suit, running towards the middle in a direction no one else seemed to be going. He wasn’t sure what he was running towards until he caught someone else heading for it in the corner of his eye. The boy was a career and if a career was going for it then it must be important.
The handle was sticking out of the top of a bag. It wasn’t an axe. He didn’t have time to stop and look for one of them. It was a handle he recognized though. He had been holding one in the training center as he stood next to Jude from ten. It was a sword! It was a sword that could keep him alive another day. As soon as he realized it’s importance he began to leg it. He was running fast before but now…he wasn’t sure he’d ever run this fast in his life. It was like a wave of necessity had come over him. As he closed in on both the sword and the boy he knew he needed to get him away. The boy had something Landon didn’t: The desire for blood. Desire drove a person more than necessity. It was game over if the boy reached the sword before him. So, Landon took a quick diagonal detour, mustering up all the strength he good as he approached the boy from behind.
Turned out he made a good battering ram. He drove his right side into the boy so hard that he almost flew to the side, head first towards the cornucopia. Landon didn’t have the guts to turn back, he slid on his knees towards the bag with the sword in and grabbed it, swooping it over his shoulder and beginning his search for Nadya. In his frantic search he laid eyes on the boy he’d so callously pushed out the way. He wasn’t moving. He was on the ground. He’d hit his head. He was dead. (Probably)
He didn’t think about Nadya in his haste. They would find each other. He charged through a few people and up an unguarded staircase. Then up another. When he reached the second flood he found himself having to stop the catch breath. That’s when he saw it. The body he was responsible for (probably) surrounded by others. There was blood, weapons and fighting. They didn’t call it the bloodbath for nothing. And there in amidst the chaos were two faces he recognized. Nadya and Karlin. The latter: dead at the hands of the first.
The girl that had stood beside on reaping day was dead him was dead. They hadn’t been close, that was true. However, she was part of home. They would mourn for her whilst he walked the arena with his killed. Would they think him guilty by association? He didn’t have time to think that. He needed to compartmentalize his thoughts. Main focus right now: survive. So, loosened the stupid pouch around his waist and lobbed it towards her shoulder in an attempt to get her attention.
This task can be about faceclaims who have tattoos or have worn tattoos for roles. There’s a masterlist below compiled of over 130 faceclaims categorised by gender with their ethnicity denoted if there was a reliable source. As always, send us a message if you know any faceclaims and resource links we haven’t included and happy tasking!
Any questions can be sent here and all tutorials have been linked below the cut for ease of access! REMEMBER to tag your resources with #TASKSWEEKLY and we will reblog them onto the main! This task can be tagged with whatever you want but if you want us to see it please be sure that our tag is the first five tags!
THE TASK
STEP 1: Decide on a FC you wish to create resources for! You can always do more than one but who are you starting with? If you want help just send us a message and we can pick one for you at random!
STEP 2: Pick what you want to create! You can obviously do more than one thing, but what do you want to start off with? Screencaps, RP icons, GIF packs, masterlists, PNG’s, fancasts, alternative FC’s - LITERALLY anything you desire!
STEP 3: Look back on tasks that we have created previously for tutorials on the thing you are creating , unless you have whatever it is you are doing mastered - then of course feel free to just get on and do it. :)
STEP 4: Upload and tag with #TASKSWEEKLY! If you didn’t use your own screencaps/images make sure to credit where you got them from as we will not reblog packs which do not credit caps or original gifs from the original maker.
LINKS:
THINGS YOU CAN MAKE FOR THIS TASK - examples are linked!
Screencaps
RP icons [of all sizes]
Gif Pack [maybe gif icons if you wish]
PNG packs
Manips
Dash Icons
Character Aesthetics
PSD’s
XCF’s
Graphic Templates - can be chara header, promo, border or background PSD’s!
FC Masterlists - underused, with resources, without resources!
FC Help - could be related, family templates, alternatives.
and whatever else you can think of / make!
Faceclaim masterlist - if you have any suggestions please message us!
