#v. tbd.

[bloodtwin]

CONTINUED  FROM  HERE  /  @ofrequiem

        ❝   YOUR  HEARTBEAT.   ❞   His  voice  was  like  a  roll  of  thunder  heard  from  a  great  distance  --  a  deep,  ominous  rumble  but  seemingly nonthreatening  for  the  time  being.  There  was  no  lightning  strike  that  followed  his  words  ;  only  a  large,  bony  hand  that  cupped  his  chest.  It  pat  just  above  where  his  own  heart  resides  &  mimicked  the  rapid  drumbeat  he  heard  from  within  the  woman.

There  was  a  not-so-small,  starving  part  of  him  that  yearned  to  tear  that  beating  heart  out  with  nothing  but  his  teeth,  but  then  there  was  the  rest  of  himself  ;  the  part  of  him  that  heard  that  frightened  pitter-patter  &  recalled  the  sound  of  his  twin's  rabbit-like  heart,  keeping  him  sane.

        (  Or,  as  sane  as  he  could  be,  at  least.  )

Puck  hummed  thoughtfully,  neon  yellow  eyes  flicking  side  to  side  to  gauge  their  current  surroundings.  Safe,  for  now.

        ❝   You  should  sit  down  for  a  moment.  Catch  your  breath. Count sheep. Or, wait. That's for sleeping, isn't it  ? Maybe don't do that. Don't fall asleep.   ❞

[priceforeverything]

@snipeheart didn’t post enough face pics

So they had traded some pics and been following each other for a while- whatever. It’s social media you know? But the dude ghosted him years ago and when he casually reappeared it was nice to catch up. Shooting the shit, a little flirting, what’s the harm?

Okay this is the fucking harm. Somehow, somewhere between all the chatting they somehow managed to talk about everything but their fucking names apparently. It’s how he’s now sitting across from Piers fucking Nivans. Jake gets up and walks over to the bar, confident long strides, a little back and forth and he’s coming back with a bottle and two glasses in hand. He sets the vodka down between them, pushes red curls out of his face. A finger is held up to stop him from talking.

“Shots before we talk is the only way we’re gonna end up out of here and not ya know.” Sure it’s been years but- he still doesn’t trust either of their mouths. He cracks open the bottle and pours for them both and shoots it back. “Wanna fill me in on the whole not dead thing?”

[eatsrawa]

` * setting the stage meme : 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 : abandoned house where the paint is peeling from the walls, every room is covered in dust, but you swear you can hear footprints in the attic. ft. @tr1cked

   his voice fills the silence which takes away from the eerieness of abandoned home that you’d found your way into; attempts to scavenge and to look around. dust covered the floors and furniture, you leave footprints on the floor as you walk by. your brows furrow together, soon turning your body to cast piercing gaze in his direction.  a gaze that said that you could not think with the constant rambling.  there was a sound in the distance that you think you hear, the tapping of feet against floorboards above, near invisible to his dialogue. 

      “ shh! ” you usher, lifting your hand up to cover his mouth; soon pointing above.  “ listen. ”

[monstyrigone]

@rotten-pupper sent a meme for sera !!

"turn around. slowly."

breathing is heavier than it had been several seconds ago, but even then, it is not harsh enough that it makes a sound. his chest is constricting itself in an attempt to quell the manner of how his heart beats within it.

he's been caught before, but he'd always had something in mind as a rebuttal to the odd older woman that stumbled on him on a rooftop, the occasional child that spotted him scoping a place out. it has never been this thick into the process of setting up, where he's actively preparing to quarantine out a location for selection.

hands come up, sliding out of his jacket pockets slowly until they are nested in the air at either side of his head, capped with a baseball hat that covers most of the wintered-auburn hair atop his crown. greenish gaze slips from staring forward to the corners of his eyes, trying to catch at least a peripheral glimpse of the woman behind him over his shoulder to no avail.

soon, he's turning, slowly and at the waist rather than using his booted feet to shuffle his weight about to carry out the order. after a long moment drawn thin by his attempt to garner himself more time to figure out a response, as well as how much she knows, he's facing her, the brim of his cap drawn down mostly over his features until his chin tips up. little stubbles have started to sprout in a much paler, redder color there since he's been out here, but she wouldn't know that from adam.

"something i can help you with..?" he hums, the drum of a faux - but convincing - german accent plithing through his voice.

[werexcat-a]

continued with @xxlordalexanderxx.

The fact that this--this other being--was one that Gabriel had only vaguely been able to feel out for on instinct alone rather than smell or even see him left an uncomfortable feeling in the werecat's gut. That was wrong. He should have been able to smell him at least, and to make matters even worse, he--this sovereign (not that Gabriel had an idea of what that meant)--was absolutely massive. Sitting down near the spring made the grey haired male feel even smaller in comparison.

It was hard to take his eyes off of him seeing as Gabe had never seen anything like him before especially with such bright, piercing eyes and teeth that very obviously outmatched his own.

If ... if he was saying that the land around him was his--land that Gabriel had simply wandered into without even an inkling--this had to mean that this guy was important ... right? He certainly acted like it.

Keeping his green gaze focused so much upward put a bit of a strain on his neck, but Gabe dared not to let the other male out of his sight.

"My name's Gabriel," he replied in that same voice from earlier since the other seemed to be able to hear him just fine, careful to give this massive predator exactly what he asked for. "I'm a Werecat. No last name--I don't remember it anymore, and the place I come from ... is gone."

[f4rgd]

@neptunemused : [ distance ] unable to touch or embrace receiver, sender self-soothes by wrapping their arms around themselves // aithne.

He  tosses  and  turns  most  of  the  night  and  try  as  he  might  Aksel  isn’t  able  to  fall  asleep.  It’s  quiet  and  he  figures  everybody  else  is  asleep  until  he  steps  out  to  see  Aithne  in  the  distance,  arms  wrapped  around  herself  as  if  she’s  caught  a  chill.  But  it’s  not  all  that  cold  out,  in  fact  the  air  is  a  little  thick  and  humid  and  the  cool  breeze  that  hits  him  is  a  welcome  relief.  

Aksel  slowly  approaches  her  from  behind,  he’s  cautious  as  he  steps  to  stand  beside  her.  There’s  been  an  underlying  tension  between  them  ever  since  they  were  reunited  with  one  another.  There’s  plenty  left  unsaid  and  a  past  that  they  were  yet  to  delve  into,  there  would  be  a  time  and  place  to  do  that  -  perhaps  even  this  was  it.    “  Can  you  not  sleep?  ”    He  occasionally  catches  himself  thinking  about  what  they’d  once  had,  what  he  had  given  up  and  for  what?  All  for  the  approval  of  a  man  he’d  never  please.  Now  he  was  alone  and  Aithne  was  in  front  of  him,  yet  all  he  could  feel  was  guilt  for  not  following  through  on  the  plans  they’d  made  together.

Instinctively  he  finds  himself  wrapping  his  arms  around  himself  as  he  looks  at  her  curiously.    “  It  has  been  a  long  day  -  ”  He  struggles  for  words  and  it  shows,  lips  pursed  tightly  together  as  the  weight  of  their  past  sits  between  them.    “  Are  you  okay?  ”

[simpel]

*       grief was a spindle waiting to be pricked. unavoidable, against all odds    ——    we think that it will not happen to us, but it does. it does. it will.      fortuna knows loss like the lines on her palms.      she knows death the way she knows her cards.      "   i don't want to die.   "      @ettienchanted says, and fortuna knows she should be less callous, but she cannot find it in her. forgive her   ——   two hundred years of solitude hardens the tongue.      "   want is irrelevant. you can die. you will. even the immortal can end somehow.   "      nothing ever stays. her tone softens if only for a second, tinged curious.      "   does death frighten you  ?   "

[conscriptur-a]

@hvbris said "there's nothing you can do for me now."

He despised the fact the girl was right. What was there for Peeta to do as the girl was being sent off to fight to the death just as he did before the whole rebellion. It angered the blond that this new government still agreed with decision to create a new games that in the time of discussing it with the other Victors and Coin herself, he disagreed with the idea. His vote of no did not stand a chance against those that approved—Haymitch and Katniss, who inevitably had more sway than he could ever had based solely on the fact he was trapped in the Capitol whilst they spent their time working hand in hand with the rebels.

It may have been unfair, but the announcement after the induction of the new President had been enough for Peeta to throw distasteful words at the two other District Twelve victors. If they had chosen to turn down the idea of the Freedom Games, as they put it, then maybe it would have fallen just as Alma Coin did on the day of assassination. Matters only became worse with the decision to make the previous Victors that were left mentors for these new Games. It was just like the Hunger Games, they were now to be controlled into reliving everything through mentorship and watching the Capitol children murder each other. Peeta was sick at the thought.

The weeks leading up to the Reaping, Peeta had made himself sick nearly every day and outbursts in his home had become even more frequent. It was as if the sliver of peace that he had found after his hijacking had flown away like the dying wisps of smoke from a fire. There was no aid or comfort in Katniss or Haymitch, he blamed them whole-heartedly, far more than the other Victors. Did this all not begin to save the children forced to be slaughtered like pigs?

Due to the mentors now being for the Capitol children, Victors travelled to the remnants of the once pristene and beautiful place to sit as the names were called out and matched with a Victor accordingly. Peeta’s face had paled at the name called in accordance with his name. Cassia Snow! Not only had he spent months with the girl in the Snow mansion but he was sure she would be the number one target for all the other kids when they decided they were no longer scared and could fight. As it was, her family caused this all to happen.

Peeta was slow to meet with his tribute terrorized by the idea of sitting down with Cassia and prepare her for—for what? Death? Just as Haymitch had done for him. Though, he finally sat with her in this quieted room, alone from the other tributes and Victors. A good thing too as he would have had his hands around Katniss’s neck, the itch clawing at him as certain aspects of the room brought him back to his captivity. He had been well immersed in his dread until the silence between them was cut. And the initial anger of her words being correct was a throb against his temple.

Cassia’s words hit him with the pressure of guilt. She had to have know she was the desirable one to fall victim to death first. What her grandfather did to him, unreedemable, and yet he was tugged by something inside him to attempt to save her. “I can help get you out alive.” Peeta offered before further thinking of the difficulty of it. If sponsors were to be part of the Freedom Games like the games before, he could not picture her receiving any due to the extended hatred. “I’ll do what I can to give you an advantage in there.”