A Little Bit Of Everything

The name is Zemi.

[fuckyeahadventuretimegifs]

JAKE: We don’t need a boat! Have you forgotten—!

[bepanie]

I could lay and stare at these ceilings for hours...

[pratiquejadhav]

[malegram]

iann dior

by @anthony_supreme for @preme.magazine

[takeaganderz]

surya-mirga​:

“White lillies,” she repeated as she wrote it down on her notepad in a pen that had fake liquid gold for ink. “Those will look nice with some purple bleeding hearts I want to add, too. Hm? Oh, yes. I think if Jeannie has her brother fighting for her, it’s only fair to dedicate that same energy to Nikita. And I think she has better survival skills.” She paused with her pen resting on the paper. “What do you think?”

Saiyyad watched his sister make notes of her own and realized the way she got lost as she wrote even the most trivial thing was something they had in common. A strange sibling similarity. “I think both are worth supporting, but it’s hard not to have a inclination towards Jeannie for Hunter’s sake.” He paused and considered Eight’s odds for another victory and how they were much greater than anyone else’s. 

Or were they? The victor would be a clone, born not of their district but of the Capitol. “What happens when they win though? Does the clone go back to the life they left behind? For most of them, that life is gone.” 

[surya-mirga]

@saiyyadmirga​

“What flowers do you like? I’ll add them to the garden in Eight. You should come home for a little while, after Nikita wins. It’s sad to move there without fun neighbors like us around.”

[takeaganderz]

“Lilies, the white kind,” he responded as he idly marked out dates passed in his planner. It wasn’t necessary, but it gave him satisfaction to be rid of a day by crossing it out. “Still betting on Nikita over Jeannie?” 

[takeaganderz]

Only Marino had died, in his opinion the least useful of the potential victors from Eight. Whilst there was still over a dozen tributes left, everyone knew that come mid-games, the deaths came faster and in greater numbers. It would only be a matter of days before someone was crowned. 

“Have you picked your horse yet?” he asked of his sister, barging his way uncharacteristically into her social circle without introducing himself. There was no time for trivial party things. Greater things were at stake. 

@surya-mirga​

[takeaganderz]

Saiyyad hadn’t ever spoken to Cain, the face of the boy bringing up terrible memories of he and the other Gamemakers working on the tide systems into the late hours of the night, but now was a good a time as ever. He had two tributes in the running still, and was therefore invested in the Games. 

“How are you enjoying the arena?” he asked. A simple question with no strings attached, seemingly. 

@cain-gunn​

[takeaganderz]

Unintentionally, Saiyyad had become swept up in a mass of sponsors and Game gamblers, each of whom had about a dozen questions. Imagining all of them as Lysander kept his answers short and sweet, revealing nothing while at the same time being satisfying enough to leave things be. He only hoped he could keep up the deliveries before someone called him out on it. 

“The arena is projected to be quite long.”

“Our plans for the remaining trajectory is unlike anything done in the past, you’ll love it.”

“The tributes play a vital role in how each detail is portrayed. Each one has something represented, in one way or another.” 

@phoenixcullinan​

[poppy-battenberg]

Poppy felt as paralyzed as her tributes. All night, all she could think about was what she should’ve and could’ve done to get Sloane more help in the arena. She was on her way to the training center when she first saw the fog, and she hadn’t left the lobby for over an hour. “Is this shit paralyzing the mutts, too?”

[takeaganderz]

“No,” he answered. Saiyyad imagined it wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was an honest one. 

[takeaganderz]

satchel-mcqueen​:

.

“Maybe that’s what we’re all doomed to do.” He offered a shrug that made his dark philosophical mood seem just a bit lighter, even if really he didn’t feel light at all. He wanted to go back to his own ignorance about the Games.

“You have to move on,” he corrected. The advice came spilling out of a place of wisdom. Saiyyad had no choice but to let go of everything weighing him down as his transitioned from teenager to adult. The death of his parents, Surya’s time in the arena and what her victory did for them, his absence of purpose in life. He nearly drowned in his misery, and he would’ve let himself had it not been for someone who cared. “Use the grief to fuel your efforts. It’ll eat you alive otherwise.” His fingers trembled a bit being so forward when he wasn’t asked to be, but it was because he had the best of intentions, which people didn’t always appreciate.  

[takeaganderz]

huntedhunter​:

He nodded to the information. It was all he could hear on every news channel, and, to him, it meant one thing alone: he could have left with Jeannie, none of this would have happened, and they could have found a town not unlike this one. Where there was one, there had to be plenty. However, he wasn’t the person to dwell on mistakes. He had to be present and watch things as they happened, not as he wished they could be.

He scoffed, however, at Saiyyad’s texting.

Talk out loud. Don’t be fucking rude.

You have one, use it.

“I wasn’t going to say that aloud,” he muttered, facing away from Hunter. He shouldn’t have said anything at all, but the itch to make that fact known needed to be scratched. “The arena is simply a stage, you know that. It’s based entirely around the tributes placed inside. Jeanine has the others to beat, but herself as well.”

[takeaganderz]

huntedhunter​:

Saiyyad was shutting up, which startled Hunter to begin with. He waved excitedly – a funny act, nothing more – as he saw Surya’s brother come in, but the way he decided to take a moment of silence felt like mockery. Granted, he was convinced it wasn’t the case, but the feeling lingered. Perhaps he was just in a bad mood, taking everything to heart, where nothing should be.

It was easy to get into texting, pointing to his phone and then typing as fast as he could, in a series of consecutive messages.

I don’t need your “moment of silence”. Fucking talk.

Tell me everything you know about the arena. Legal stuff only though.

Help me get this damned place. For Jeannie.

You know it could have been you in there instead of her if your sister weren’t the luckiest person in any room. Ha ha. 

Hunter’s behavior was never predictable, which is why Saiyyad typically avoided being one-on-one with him if he could manage it. His phone buzzed and the avenue of conversation became clear.

This arena isn’t like all of the others. It’s not inspired, it’s acquired. 

Saiyyad recognized that he was supposed to care about Jeanine in the same way Hunter and Surya did, but he didn’t. The odds of him becoming a tribute were as likely as anyone’s chances were, so he didn’t understand the point the man was trying to make. It was envy, likely, that up until a week before he was the only one in his family left, but it wasn’t as though Saiyyad hadn’t known loss. 

[takeaganderz]

alder-reid​:

.

“Have they ever been?” He could almost hear the counterpoint, that he was alive, but sometimes that felt like the worst of it all. This was a unique type of hell, watching his tributes die over and over and over, never being enough to save them. Still, he propped his chin up on his hand and looked at Saiyyad expectantly, anticipating that exact response to come. It never failed to. “I suppose you’re not allowed to sponsor.”

Saiyyad thought ill of the credo attached to the Games, recognizing the foulness of it from a young age. Never once did he think the odds were in anyone’s favor. “I could, but it would be majorly frowned upon,” he answered. “Even if I was allowed to, I couldn’t afford your tributes much. A Gamemaker salary doesn’t leave much after taking care of the necessities.”

[takeaganderz]

satchel-mcqueen​:

.

“How do you manage that though? I mean I feel like I barely even cared this time and I’m still… I mean. Sucks to see somebody die.” Even if that someone was just a person he’d dressed up a few times.

“I’ve seen a lot of people die,” he answered, perhaps too quickly. His internal darkness was something he was used to carrying around. To others, it was blinding, dramatically so. “The fact that you care even a little bit proves your humanity, but you can’t mourn them all. You’ll be mourning forever.”

[alder-reid]

He was learning to not think about it. All of it. The way that another one of his tributes was dead– again– at the hands of Two– again– and at the hands of someone he fucking knew– again. He felt like he was prying apart space in his own mind to stay present, sane, even, just long enough to focus on Bellona. It would all collapse back in, eventually, it always did. He just needed that to be when someone else wasn’t depending on him to stay alive.  He hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours now over the past two nights, but it wasn’t stopping him from trying to convince the sponsors gathering in and around the Tower to see and be seen that Bellona was their winner, Bellona deserved their support. He’d even put on something other than his hoodie, attempted to comb his hair (though it didn’t seem like it any longer), but the words kept coming out wrong and awkward, his hands shook with nerves and pressure. After nearly three hours of this straight this morning and a particularly painful conversation where he’d stumbled to remember the names of the Capitol tributes, he needed a break. He collapsed into a seat at the corner of the lobby, head in his hands and fingers twisting into his hair. Squeezing his eyes shut, he desperately wished he was better at this, that he could charm people with a warm personality like Maverick could, use his intelligence and wit like a whip the way he’d seen Dahlia do, even fucking seduce people into getting his way like Abel. But he was none of those things, he wasn’t good at anything. Stone and Olive and Ash had left him now to do it all alone, all by himself, and he wasn’t measuring up. How had he ever thought he could manage to get someone out?

[takeaganderz]

Once the Games really got rolling, there would be little time for mingling outside of the Gamemaking circle and Saiyyad needed to know how the general public was reacting to the team reveal. Nothing was more important to him than how it all played out on the outside. The tributes were already locked inside the arena and could do nothing going forward. The people on the outside mattered more right now. 

“I’m imagining things weren’t in your favor this time?” he softly asked the miserable-looking mentor. 

[huntedhunter]

He was fine. He couldn’t even drink water, but he was fine. The wound where his artificial tongue used to be, where his real tongue used to be, was still bleeding from, even with stitches, so, once again, he simply kept his mouth shut. No anesthesia, nothing to recover from, but the event itself. And he could really use a drink, except everything hurt, even with a straw. 

So, with his feet on the coffee table and his sunglasses on at 2 AM in a mentor lounge, he decided to watch the Games. It wasn’t as if he could miss any of it, not for any injury in the world. So far, Jeannie was doing better than okay, which was the only silver lining of the day. The arena seemed complicated, but not the sort to give her any particular hell. It was good. It was going to be fine.

No dialogue, though his eyes did move from the screen as someone else walked in, only for a glance, as they returned to the Games. He wasn’t in the mood for talking. 

[takeaganderz]

Saiyyad had heard the news in the most unofficial way possible, by way of a nameless television personality, “spilling the tea.” He wanted to cry on the man’s behalf although that wasn’t at all Hunter’s style. The complete invasion of privacy, let alone physical boundaries, made his stomach turn uncharacteristically. Like the couch that kept him from laying out on the uncarpeted floor a mere two years before when he spiraled, Saiyyad simply wanted to offer his presence whether it was wanted or not.