modern art — best of the 81st.
Apr 29, 2019 17:01:06 GMT -5
Post by 🌱 kaitlin. on Apr 29, 2019 17:01:06 GMT -5
so, when i was trying to teach myself about the games and learn how they work, i saw a couple others of these, and they made my heart smile & i couldn't resist the idea of writing up one of these myself. these games were absolutely incredible, and i loved reading each and every tributes post so much it literally pains me thinking about it, & i can't think of a better way to show my appreciation to everyone. to every single writer, i want to highlight some of my favorite moments for each tribute. lines that stayed with me after the fact, the magic that all of your guys' words has created. i wish i could highlight so so so much more. you guys are magic. i hope that, above all else, everyone is incredibly proud of their writing.enjoy.
♡ ♡ ♡
“It sucks, this,” He waves at the air in front of them, motioning to the games, to life, to all of this shit. “I used to feel like I knew exactly who I was, but I haven’t felt that way in a long time.” He does his best to smile, the lines creasing as he forces it. “You ever have something hurt you bad enough, you don’t know who you are anymore?”
//
He knew what shame was, bricks upon his shoulders, to hunch him down, make him smaller, to have him look away at the sight of another staring for too long. To wake next to someone and think of all the mistakes he’d ever made, and that history would always repeat itself for Saturn Rhodon. Because he knew that this world was made up of many men who took for themselves, used what they could for their own purpose, to make boys like him pretty things as though they were jewelry, when they were not things – they were people. And to those that would see him swagger and drink, and carry on, that would see the anger or pain, those that would not have kind words but rather contempt – because this was what boys like Saturn deserved, wasn’t it?
How much easier it was to pass judgment on the good or bad another does, and not think of a whole person?
- Saturn Rhodon, District One by zori
in devil like me & bring on the monsters
"To win this game, you have to be strong like Stark, but you have to love like Bella. You have to be ready to suffer like Avon, but know how to prevent it like Pillar. None of these girls, strong and different as they were, came home with the crown." She took a step toward the gamemakers, bloody footprints in her wake. "I plan to finish the job they started."
//
She took in one last breath of a free man's air, and when the gong sounded, Myrcella Hudson exhaled as a prisoner prepared to fight for her freedom.
- Myrcella Hudson, District One by admin dars
in public training session & the bloodbath
"I've burnt all I can. I'm just cinders now."
//
He is a hero, a villain. What's the difference, in this moment? Clutching a sword like some kind of crutch, his humanity dies in his fingers. Hisidro, his sword coated again in the blood of Nico. He didn't want to see the damage he caused, see the ruby red line of regret on his throat.
Regret of not going all the way, regret he even went for the throat. Regret he let Diana get hit again, Hisidro feels the disgust in his stomach. It writhes, always moving.
Threatening to choke him. It'd probably be for the best.
- Hisidrio di Angelo, District Two by ghosty
in still feel & echo chamber
"You don't get to torment us any longer," you growl, advancing upon the mutt once again. "Hell, you don't even get to exist any longer."
//
But the fire fades, feeling remains in her body, and she glares at Four with a newfound hatred in her eyes. Pain is no stranger to her form, and she's long since learned to utilize it, using it to strengthen her instead of crippling from within.
Pain fuels the anger coursing through her veins, and oh, she is pissed.
"You fucker." she hisses through clenched teeth. A small part of her wants to mutilate him, make him suffer even more before he dies - but she'd already taken too long to end him once.
And though she may not be perfect, Jessica Braun does not make the same mistake twice.
Stabbed through the heart it is.
- Jessica Braun, District Two by lance
in to the grave & to each, their throne
"If you say so," he moves, "then let your love bury you."
//
His soul feels ephemeral, dissipating into shards of shattered reality. The thunder of death knowns no stranger among its chosen lambs. Here their weapons tarnish beneath stolen scarlet as the songs of Hades enchant their wicked dance. Beneath the pattering of their sprinting feet a field of blood blooms as a lake of lamentations. A king of the chaos rattles over this withering world with a hunger insatiable and with bones breaking.
Severus breathes into the delirium.
Nearby flames devour skin and screams scar the sky. Ronan abandons him rushing for another enemy, his eyes glinting sharper than his tongue. Severus stands in the shade of two now turned towards one. His heart shudders and his hands shake. All that can come from the face off is a widening of the running rivers of red. Severus stands in a moment of pause.
“You aren’t alone.”
- Severus Ward, District Three by Arrows
in bring on the monsters & the ferryman has come
"Ronan, I'm so sorry. What happened to you was wrong." She takes another swig, hoping it’ll give her the words that need to be said. It doesn’t. She stumbles on anyway. "But it doesn't make you wrong. Okay? Our messed up pasts don't make us messed up people."
//
“Liar,” she rasps. Ronan Keeni-Einfallen is many things, but he’s not the bad guy. Not in her story, anyway. To her, he’s an ally trusted with her heaviest secrets, a protector of Severus Ward, the boy who deserves the world and more. To her, he’s the strongest person she knows. “You’re the biggest damn hero I’ve ever met.”
But before Saturn can strike again, before she can brace herself for another blow, she catches the sight of something glinting in the air from the corner of her blood-blinded eye. Saturn’s ally? Fresh panic courses through her and, terrified and in pain and confused, she lunges in the general direction of where it came from, trying to place herself between whoever the attacker is and Ronan.
Because he’s the sulkiest, most badmouthed hero that she’s ever met, but he’s a hero. Her hero.
Which means she’s going to have to find the strength to be his, too.
- Aurora LaChance, District Three by Stare
in the flowers serenade & the ferryman has come
“Have they told you about me in the Capitol?” he asks the animal, shrugging his pack to one shoulder and circling with his pitchfork as a cane. Sweat dripping down his brow and caked with dirt on his face. If he imagines hard enough, it is a spear and he is back at home, sparring with Avery in the studio. “I am chaos. I am the baddest thing you have ever seen."
//
You've made your death in a bed of sunflowers, Berlin Batalanto. You've made your war and you've waged your battles. But you're bruised, rusted, and bloody. A walking corpse.
He is too bloodstained to be called an angel. His hands have dug graves, his oaths to himself and no one else. He is no hero, god, or blessed being.
He is cursed, war running through his veins more than love. Broken boy incapable of love. Crowned head of thorns knowing not what it is to conquer anything, let alone death. Fearless soul made of glass, shattered years ago and a mosaic of patchwork pieces.
- Berlin Batalanto, District Four by alex 🐺
in hoof prints in hell & to each, their throne
"Fuck y'all."
(truly this was so fucking epic and i will never
forget this post, i couldn't not pick this line)
//
Her heart clenches, and the needles on the cactus press tighter. She bites her lip and drops her weapon, reaching for the handle of the axe.
The true Executioner.
Wasting any time for words will only prolong the suffering. She works hard to aim true, to do this kindness correctly for the Girl Who Couldn’t Die.
Maybe it will be enough. Maybe not.
”Anything for a friend.”
- Finley O'Hara, District Four by Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]
in the ferryman has come & to the drum of my soul
“We’re pressed flowers; you and I,” he whispers into the arch of the other’s mouth. “We’ll never die.”
//
The girl’s face is clean and he can see the glimmer of innocence in her eyes, luminous and bright.
But, there is no innocence here.
Flowers devour other flowers, as creatures feast on other creatures; this is a rite of passage, what living truly means, and he does not resist it. The wild in wildflowers should never go unnoticed.
- Francisco Bloom, District Five by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.
in a sky full of stars & the ferryman has come
“This place has given me a heart - a heart to care about others, to protect those ones I care about, and to return home to the other ones I care about.” Desperate eyes of compassion stare within my Opponent’s, wondering if he can possibly understand. “I don’t think it’s heartless to want to live, I think it makes us human.”
//
And sure enough that vengeance we all cry to meet comes face to face with us. The majority of words sound to be mute to my understanding when actions need to take place. All that I can hear is the sternness of that boy’s features from One, the irritation of his muscles, and the stains of lives he’s stolen upon his hands. Other’s are with him as well, the blind boy whom my blade has meet many times over, and a girl whom my eyes have scarcely gazed upon - and even now my stare is solely upon the One who had taken Rory from us.
The true meaning of revenge appears to finally grace me with its presence in this very moment. Weapons collapse upon both the boys I would sacrifice my entirety for, yet my attention is tunneled into a sole goal. The likes of my pulse, and the beat of my pounding heart, speeds as if I’m just meeting the existence of them. Fingers flex upon the handle of my weapon, and suddenly all that matters is kissing this blade upon his’ skin. His skin who brought flame and destruction to someone I love. His skin who deserves exactly what he put her through.
- Raven Elsu, District Five by Cameo {RIP Charlie}
in sell your soul & bring on the monsters
"I'd rather be a ghost of a hero than live as the monster my mother believes I am."
//
Longing of the heart. Suffering of the heart. They're the same ache. He knew what it was like to ache for love or admiration. He knew what it was like to never truly get it. He knew what it was like to lose it all in the form of Aurora Lachance and Severus Ward. Raven would cry out to him to keep pushing for them, but he's so tired of this. Tired of feeling like he has to keep running as fast as possible. She would be okay.
He had to believe that.
- Ronan Keeni-Einfallen, District Six by Tom
in soul survivor & soul survivor
(listen, this thread wrecked me, do not @ me)
“Fuck you, Nine,” she spits through numbed lips. “I’m not dying today.”
//
Battle wounds. The blood adorning her poncho is reminiscent of how she slayed two mutts and lived to tell the tale. The beating of her heart represents her vitality. It's more than what can be said for those shown on the anthem last night. She may not live for much longer - although the thought makes her shiver - but while she lives, she fights.
- Leticia Neptune, District Six by jess
in the ferryman has come & box of glitter
"We are not dyin today. Hear it, Diana?" His main and only goal at he moment was to make sure that they escaped the blood bath and left behind the death of one tribute that rang out. The sound of the canon shook him. He had turned for only half a second when it happened. His heart had stopped and his breaths halted as he glared into the massive fight. He wanted to know who it was that had succumbed to the capitol's toture chamber first, and when he saw the persons form on the ground, he nodded. "One down, Diana. Maybe their heart be free, but our challenge isn't even started yet."
//
Yellows dipped away after a while. His gaze kept straight on to Diana's back, watching and making sure that she was always to be protected like the little sisters he'd left at home. They were watching, he knew and a baby brother that knew of nothing going on. His absence made no difference to the two year old, but he longed to hear from his little sister's once more.
The empty whisky bottle deep in his sack held two wilting sunflowers. One had been for Zeezee because she loved anything bright and cheerful. The other one was going to be given back to Jacobie so that she may know the sun will always shine wherever she was. He had plans to give them back the moment he reached home, but first he knew that he'd have to make it there.
As the path turned so did his facial expressions when noises deafened his heart and his breaths sped up. This place was going to be one hell of a trip and only just now was the fun starting to begin.
- Zion Imani, District Seven by *
in withstanding the odds & rings of a tree
"And what about it?" I question him back. "I do not think of myself as a liar, rather as playing a part. But it is my part, on my own rules—so I get to decide what part I play."
//
And everybody knows how it goes; it's the same old story when you can count the number of tributes left on your two hands. They pull you together through slight of hand and before you know it, you're fighting again—I'm fighting again.
Love's power pushing and pulling—I felt it again today, not as bad as I did when it was Francisco—but I still felt it. I looked at Ronan and I saw someone who was hurting more than anyone else. It was like he had lost track of who he was in favour of pleasing everyone else, perhaps that is what an entertainer is, but there should still be a line drawn between your own person, and your person for the people. I didn't see that with him, in fact, I'm not sure I saw a person at all.
He is what I do not ever want to become. Humans are not supposed to be as hard as rock and as cold as ice, we are supposed to have heart and feel proud that love is the thing we can count on most when we expect it least.
- Diana Sayers, District Seven by d4 tati pelotte [azalea]
in sweet; a little selfish & the princess diaries vii
“I wonder if you calcium deficient jack-wipes are going to murder each other for the crown and then have the audacity to cry about it.”
//
“Excuse us for not actively trying to murder people,” he spat in disgust. “We’re not all brazen enough to mutilate the blind dude and still act morally outraged.” Stanley planted his feet firmly on the dry lake bed and tried to keep Ex steady.
“Just jab forward, man. You got this.” He whispered to the boy from ten. Miracle of miracles, the pitchfork actually tapped one of them, though he didn't think it drew much blood.
A second later he raised his voice again, yelling as he addressed Lady Death.
“If this is what karma has for us, I’d hate to see what it has for you. You ever stop to think that maybe you lot are the bad guys in this story?”
- Stanley Schuster, District Eight by charade
in to the drum of my soul & to the drum of my soul
“You don’t have to apologize. I was just—” I look at the ground. “Scared.”
A moment passes, and I force myself to look back at my friend. I want to be brave for him.
“I don’t think we’re ever going to be able to fix ourselves completely, Saturn. I think we just have to focus on trying to be okay in the now, for as long as we can.”
“Thank you Damaris. I just want you to know... you matter to me, a lot.”
I smile at him, no teeth but a smile all the same. “You matter to me too.”
//
The darkness took hold of her then, creeping into her veins where blood had once been. She couldn’t fight it anymore. She wanted to cry, or scream, or something, but there was nothing she could do. She inhaled another shaky breath and closed her remaining eye, glad that the last things she’d ever see were the face of her friend and the field of glowing, golden flowers.
Damaris Hope did not die alone. She did not die at the foot of a towering building or in a bloody bathtub. She did not die thinking she was unworthy, or a burden, or that everyone would be better off without her.
She died knowing she was loved, and that was enough.
- Damaris Hope, District Eight by goat
in the ferryman has come & killer whales! killer whales!
"How fun it must be," he says softly, "To watch two kids kill each other so agonizingly slow."
//
Ambrosia knows that they aren't gods, none of them are. No matter how much they alter their skin, no matter how many fences they build, they bleed red just the same as the people in the Districts.
Not that Ambrosia cares about that, "I'm no revolutionary," he mutters, while scrambling over the dredges of the thumb's formation, "Honest, I'm not a hero and I'm not a villain, I'm a kid you idiots."
But this place made a mockery out of anyone and everyone and that was only proven by the paper still crumpled up in Ambrosia's hand. There'd have been no murders at all if it weren't for the games. If anyone should be wanted for murder, it's the Capitol.
- Ambrosia Sin, District Nine by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
in sweet; a little selfish & we're taller than that, you'll see
"Finley," she pleads, chest heaving and twin stumps flailing in an attempt to rise and keep balance. If she's not mortal, she prays to whatever cruel god abandoned her in the dark all those years ago to take back that gift. That curse. "Fucking end me."
//
Would that someone would smite her deaf to spare Savior from the unholy shrieking funneled directly into her left ear. Covered in blood — hers, Exover's, whoever the hell else's — like she's a tick burrowing into the flesh of some beast instead of just digging graves. Her stump sears, bright pops of light covering her vision every time she makes the mistake of moving her shoulder. The wriggling weight on her back doesn't make keeping still easy, to say nothing of the screeching. Eventually he quiets, intermittent screams mixed with half-coherent curses expelled from his lungs like a spasm.
When she can't move another step, she drops the boy and to her knees. Everything spills from her quickly at first, like sand spilling from a burlap sack that's been gashed open. Then it settles, a low groan transmuting into a throaty chuckle as the shock takes hold. Her heart shakes into her ribs with every thrum of possessed laughter and Savvy Powermaker has no idea why she isn't dead yet unless she really is unkillable after all.
- Savior Powermaker, District Nine by gm bourgeois decadence [aya]
in to the drum of my soul & dying ain't much of a living
“I did mean to ask, how many are left now?” A quick addition: “Tributes, not working legs between the two of us.”
//
For the first time, he wanted to extend his time. Wanted more of everything, to know who he was and to jump into the ocean and to drink poison with confidence. He wanted to live because he learned to love, through Stanley and Finley and Savior, and, yes, now through Saturn. Now through Jayne, who helped them despite it being a direct detriment to her longevity, who selflessly and thoughtlessly placed herself between Ex and the enemies.
Hell, he even felt something bright in his trenches when he thought about Ronan. When he remembered the sever-savvy kid who always followed closely behind was exactly that: a kid, not some evil incarnate grown from the capitol's lab.
- Exover Endor, District Ten by cameron
in unsightly fowl & bring on the monsters
"I would -" it all becomes so meaningless now, the clouds, the fields of golden flowers, the rock that seems to wobble in front of me as I sway on my hands and knees, too dizzy to get back to my feet. "- would have freed you."
"Better than -" I try to swallow, wishing that all of this could somehow make sense, and turn to Jayne. "- than being theirs."
//
I can't look at her. I can't bear to see those eyes wide open, and to imagine the ornate sword slicing through the two arteries along her neck. All I can do is run away, the tall grass whipping against my legs in penance until it begins thinning out to show a tall monolith of rock, teetering precariously like one of Zaya Reine's nails. And my pounding heart and aching muscles still can't drown out the thoughts of Jayne. Whether I had hesitated too long, and ought to have taken taken her life before the Capitol could.
- Alja Gavrilovic, District Ten by Lyn𝛿is
in in good faith & in good faith
(y'all this thread was so good and unexpected, i loved it)
I can make sure nothing gets her until I breathe my last breath. I know it's not much, but I'm dying too, and I can feel the threads tearing ever so slowly. "Stars. Watch the stars."
//
he sunflowers are beautiful, and now they're bleeding along with the blood gushing out her neck and other wounds across her body. It reminds me of being in the fields back home. Sometimes the orchards are beautiful when the fruits are growing and the branches are filled with various colors, yet a time comes when they're bare and ugly and nothing will ever make it look better. The sunflowers aren't so pretty anymore.
They aren't what I thought they were. They're frail and dying like the rest of us. I can't even look at my district partner anymore. I take a step back as the tears continue flowing rapidly down the side of my face. She's so young and innocent and doesn't deserve this, but I'm killing her right now in the blink of an eye. I'm fighting her. I'm the one that's doing this to her. I'm the one that's trying to stay alive, and I don't know what she's doing. I would've grabbed a knife and started swinging it because I know she has them. I guess after seeing me after realizing this is my fault, that I'm the one who hurt her, that she doesn't have it in her to fight anymore.
- Rex Antilles, District Eleven by Cato
in peace like a river & a godly dance
Her hand reached out for Rex’s, wanting confirmation that it really was him. Because I remember. I remember the feeling of his hand in mine from the train. That's all I need.
//
I’m sorry, she kept signing, tears never ending. They were useless, worthless, all of the negative adjectives that existed under the sun, because she wasn’t couldn’t going to stop fighting. She couldn’t keep tricking them; she had to do something.
I’m doing this for him.
But what if he dies?
Impossible.
I’m already dead.
And they know it.
- Arianna Taylor, District Eleven by ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ
in peace like a river & a godly dance
She knew me too well. She knew that I wanted nothing more than to prevent myself from being one of the Capitol's pawns when I was in this arena. I didn't want to be 'theirs' as she had put it. I also didn't want to die, though. Better to fight my way out of the arena and be theirs for a little while than die in their control.
"Alja, you made a wrong move. I hope you know that."
//
What would my birth parents think of me? Would they be glad that I didn't remember them so that we weren't associated with one another? Or, rather, would they be disappointed in themselves for not making sure they were a bigger memory in the mind of their daughter when she died?
I felt the searing pain that flowed through all of me, and all I wanted to do was yell. I had screamed when I'd fallen, but it was so hard to get any other sounds, much less any words, out of my lips. I just wanted to go home, but the only way I would be going home now would be as a lifeless body for my family to bury.
I was dying. I was dying and it scared me.
Jayne Ashbrook-Laws, who'd grown to be so strong, was scared.
- Jayne Ashbrook-Laws, District Twelve by kap
in in good faith & and now your trip begins
