* alive / dead .

from this generator.

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇.

[ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― sender wraps a soft blanket around receiver’s shoulders [ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊 ] ― sender and receiver fall into bed together on silk sheets [ 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender pulls receiver’s hair ( gently / hard ) [ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 ] ― sender strokes receiver’s hair [ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender brushes receiver’s hair [ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender paints a picture onto part of receiver’s body ( specify what & where ) [ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender traces their fingertips over receiver’s body [ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender traces a scar on receiver’s body [ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 ] ― sender reaches out to hold receiver’s hand [ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ] ― sender worships receiver’s body

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄.

[ 𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver something they’ve never tried before ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sour ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sweet ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender feeds receiver something spicy ( specify what ) [ 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender kisses receiver to taste the lingering flavour of what they ate or drank on their lips ( specify what ) [ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood [ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver soup when they’ve fallen ill [ 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 ] ― sender makes receiver a cocktail to try [ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender cooks receiver their favourite meal [ 𝐓𝐑𝐘 ] ―  sender gives receiver a taste of what they’re cooking / baking for their opinion

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

[ 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 ] ― sender blindfolds receiver [ 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver see each other again after a period of being apart [ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender notices something different about receiver ( injury / haircut / tattoo / piercing / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender greets receiver in formal partywear ( feel free to add detail ) [ 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐒 ] ― sender takes receiver to see lanterns in the sky [ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender and receiver lay under the stars to stargaze [ 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver lock eyes across the room [ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender and receiver see a shadow move out the corner of their eye [ 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 ] ― sender and receive watch as something burns ( candles / a building / a campfire / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender takes receiver to the aquarium to watch the sea life [ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ] ― sender recognises receiver at a masquerade party

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

[ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] ― sender puts on the radio to listen to music with receiver [ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 ] ― sender plays receiver their favourite song on an instrument ( specify what ) [ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ] ― sender and receiver are in bed together while rain lashes against the windows / tent / etc [ 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender whispers something in receiver’s ear ( specify what ) [ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender asks receiver for a dance upon hearing a song [ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 ] ― sender and receiver hear a sound when they should be alone ( footsteps / creaking floorboards / a scream / etc ) [ 𝐇𝐔𝐌 ] ― sender hums a lullaby to lull receiver to sleep [ 𝐌𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃 ] ― sender comforts a temporally deaf receiver after a loud sound ( gunshot / explosion / etc ) [ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌 ] ― sender calms receiver down from a panic attack in a loud place [ 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender and receiver hear a muffled sound from another room / outside ( music / people / creature / etc ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender hears receiver crying and approaches comfort them

𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋.

There was something about the split second feeling of weightlessness that came from surrendering himself to the ocean on the warmest days of summer, allowing the waves to embrace him completely. There was a certain euphoria that came from beneath the tide. It never lasted long, just the few moments he could last holding himself under the surface, but it was enough for the salt and sea to choke the world and transport him elsewhere. Far from Four. Far from Panem. Far from every trouble, every threat, every heartache. The feeling came for him now, as if the sound of her voice had plunged him into the deepest depths of the Pacific. 

Never had there been a desperation as fierce as this. It wrapped itself around every last molecule that made up his being, swallowing Finnick whole. In that moment (and for the rest of time), he was nothing more than the need to hold her. Lungs failing, a breathless whisper fell from his lips, her name tasting sweeter than it ever had before. “Annie.”

It’s but just seconds later she’s running towards Finnick — the world’s most perfect angel, sent for him. Knees threatening to buckle in an astonishing twist of relief and devastation, it takes every ounce of strength he still has to keep himself upright. 

“It’s real. It’s real. Annie, you’re real.” The moment she reaches his outstretched arms, they’re wrapped tightly around her fragile frame. There would be nothing that would steal her away from him again, he promised it to himself and to her, vow coming as easily as the tears in his eyes. “I’m never letting them take you from me again.” His face buried in Annie’s brown hair, he wants to be drunk on her. “They’ll have to kill me before I ever let them get close to you again. God, Annie, you’re real.”

those nearby see the dash of a mad girl. desperation outweighs the torture, as somehow agility stays riff with her. there's no gracefulness in how she wraps herself around finnick odair. but he doesn't fade away. a gasp - or is it a sob ? - leaves her involuntarily. she hadn't realize she'd been holding it, but it vacates from somewhere deep within her. it's almost like it was festering with her those last two months. waiting for this moment, just like annie had.

neglected muscles ache as arms wrap tightly around him. she hadn't held anyone other than her own skin and bones in months. ( thoughts of visitors' past are silenced ; those don't count - do they ? ) either way, she's longed to hold a loved one, most especially finn. is she any good at embracing anymore ? can one forgot how ? it's a bundle of weakened bodies hovering snuggly around one another. together they should crumble to dust - but yet they don't. " i am, " she whispers. she thinks. " so are you, " she adds. she hopes.

skin against skin, her fiance doesn't feel like himself. a chronic fear bubbles deep within her. can thirteen be trusted ? have they truly been good to the man that she loves ? clearer mind might more easily connect that worry has eaten away at him ; when she will eventually look in the mirror, reflection will be unrecognizable in her own right.

hesitantly she pulls away just so, as though somehow her vision might fade away. but long fingers come up as hands cradle his face. " i love you, " she says shakily. once speaking in miles, words now lodge themselves in the canal of her throat. annie leans forward just enough, so that her lips graze his own. it's a moment of warmth and perhaps just a moment of peace within her mind.

while lips part, her hands remain. " i missed you , " she all but squeaks. deep breath is taken before she asks the following question, " caspian, " she draws off, not able to continue. but heavy question is in the atmosphere, at least in her mind. she needs to hear it from him.

Cadie knows she had come far though, even if she hadn't really thought about it much. This time last year she'd been hiding herself away, basically refusing to talk to anyone. She had very nearly lost all the relationships she had held so dearly. And now, here she was fighting in a rebellion. It was a million miles away from the Cadence Kentwell that had won the hunger games, and then be exploited by the Capitol. Cadie had told Domi that the old Cadence was long gone, and it really was not till now that she realised how true those words had actually been.

" i don't think it would cause any harm to do so, " the chaperon adds about brutus. it's meant to be uplifting. though even klair who doesn't know the victor that well, knows exterior is a hard one. and cliches aside, the interior likely isn't any different. " again, the worst he can do is say no to you visiting him. " which he wouldn't be surprised if cadie somehow acrobaticed her way beyond security if brutus declined. when kentwell puts her mind to something, she doesn't seem to be able to stop until the idea is put into motion.

" and who knows, maybe security misses you, " he jokes, giving her a nudge like an elderly grandpa might do to a grandkid who walked into a web of their awful puns. he's just happy she's out. " did they give you any ideas on how long you'll need supervision for ? "

the staff doesn't quiet share the sentiment that thea is doing well when she's present. but he recognizes her when she is ; he also recognizes her when she isn't - as the panic and disassociation is familiar to her post-arena and after certain events past. " they're not specifically barring you, cadence, " he doubles down. because maybe she feels that way ? he couldn't blame her if she did. " but right now, there's nothing that you can do to speed things up. all you can do is be patient. they're here. they're safe. "

but he recognizes that she's scared, even before words leave her. regardless of what careers get taught, feeling an emotion is a very normal thing. " i promise, i'll make sure someone comes and finds you when they're allowing visits. you have my word, cadie. "

but below the exhaustion and sadness is anger boiling like magma. annie cresta was not someone made for anger ; she felt that emotion like a poison. and perhaps that's why she can't hold back fangs now. " they're dead too, you know ? your tributes. my father, fletcher, and natalia's daughter, rose, are no longer here with us. what you say has consequences. does it even matter to you or are you already looking forward to next year's lot ? " what had any of those from district four done to deserve sarah kline's vitriol. " just consider what it is you have to say next time. that's all, sarah, i promise you. being responsible for danger or death is not something that will ever lay light on your heart. you can't return from that. " or at least good people can't.

footsteps are gentle, a culmination of barely there hospital slippers as well as trying to not wake the sleeping man. annie remembers when thea finally openly admitting to caring for the man. some parts of the quell have begun to feel fuzzy. though maybe they were never clear to begin with ? her care team has spoken about getting her in with the resident psychiatrist. maybe that'll do cresta some good. either way, she feels a sense of relief seeing the couple so close. maybe one day she'll ask thea about their reunion. they can talk about it over some pastries and tea and who knows - maybe her best friend will have met little cas by then. maybe maybe maybe.

" we're in thirteen, " she says softly. though it's spoken too soon, as she unintentionally speaks over the bedridden woman. she's asking about annie still residing in the medical wing. " it's only been a few days since the rescue, " she adds with a shrug. she places hand palm up next to thea's free hand. it's an unspoken invitation. annie's not sure she'll accept, but that's what she would have wanted had the roles been reversed. " they're gonna do an evaluation tomorrow. i think they'll be doing so for all the captives actually. "

Now, that moment is the fuel to her increasing confusion. This all seems too real. The scrape of Ezra’s chair against the floor, the hands that find her own. They are perfectly calloused in a way she’s learned by heart over and over again through decades — she’s tracked their lives together through the roughness of his palms. Part of Thea had always hoped he never stopped working for that very reason, despite the fact that she was adamant about him deserving an early retirement; it was simply to easy to remind herself that they were living and growing through the story his hands would tell each time she held them. 

She thinks that may have been what crushed her the most when she watched him die in front of her — the fact that she’d never hold those hands in hers again. But that was only part of her agony, of course. Thea may have been almost completely out of her mind by then, and she may have hazy memories and no understanding of her surroundings now, but she is acutely aware of everything that encompassed Ezra’s death. It would be difficult to forget the way her heart shattered, the distinct feeling of loss that overtook her when she watched as her other half was ripped away from her. It had been her driving force in thinking he was the one saving her from the purgatory she’d been sentenced to. 

With ease, he’d lifted her from a floor stained with her own blood, and Thea had allowed that moment to be the one that brought her peace. Laid against his chest, she’d resigned herself to her fate in the arms of the man she loved most, and the world went dark as she succumbed to death. 

Or at least, so she’d thought.

he holds her tighter as angel eyes shut and limbs become painfully limp. he begins to lean against cell wall to look for a pulse as mind screams at him. it's the smallest comfort to notice next that her chest rises and falls. out her nostrils come the faintest bit of warm air. she's alive, thank god. they'll get her to the hovercraft and medical staff will be able to help her there and within thirteen. heavy steps march out from ellis' cell, all the way to juniper. " i'm gonna take thea to the hover. you can join me or i'll meet you back here. " there's only enough time taken to inhale and exhale a breath before he starts heading on his way. he's a man on a mission.

hand stays holding hers. periodically he has his thumb brush over her soft fingers. it's meant to comfort. not just her either. he'd thought about this day since the arena. but in the arena, he'd assume they'd get to embrace on day zero. if someone would have told him day sixty, klair would have given a resounding no. he thought he'd done right by giving her a clue on where to go when everything began. but for someone who loves to act like she's cold and only likes probably two and a half people - she still turned around to take care of those she loved. he's not proud of the fact that he'd have much rather have had her than brutus on the aircraft or would have rather enobaria get left behind alone than both she and thea. thoughts won't get aired. who would it serve ? but between the two, thea ellis might genuinely be the kinder one.

" no baby, we're at a hospital, " he responds at first, hoping the truth might bring some comfort. machine begins to beep faster as thea squeezes his hand hard. grip is intense, but something so familiar about thea. she always loved to roughhouse and remind him harmlessly about the skill sets she still has ; when you separate it from the hunger games, it could almost be fun.

his lover being worrisome, confused, dissociating though - he'd seen it all before. it's why the public came up with that god awful nickname for her that he detests with a passion. these symptoms and emotions sometimes took her in her trauma from the arena or the capitol. he doesn't know a lot about mental health, but he's always tried to be there for thea. she isn't a fragile little thing, she's just been through a lot.

freehand swiftly moves upward, gently brushing free flowing tears from cheeks and undereyes. " no, the rebels never did that to me. they actually were the ones who got me out of the arena. and i was with them when we got you out of the cells. " tone is so level and soft spoken. he wants to buckle down and apologize for everything. for putting her in this position. for it taking two months to get her out from captivity. for not telling her about his plans in full. but now wouldn't be the right time or place for that discussion. " you're safe here, i promise. i'm gonna stay right here. "

" do you - " she draws off for a moment. there's a brief need to figure out how to word the question of her mind. " do you think it's over now ? like they have no more people to hurt there in thirteen ? " the yells and the screams are soul crushing. at least she hears it from a distance. do guards make thea watch it too ? she can't bring herself to ask, and she never will. the idea makes her want to empty her stomach. if it's over though ... maybe they can't hurt thea this way anymore ! maybe in the pure horror of the screams, there's a golden saving grace for ellis now.

thoughts are disrupted from routine jumbled mess to what her neighbor said next. " yeah - um - he thinks they're just fabricating things. " at least, that's what annie cresta gathered. she hadn't actively tried to listen in. besides for lack of privacy being heavy within the block, her cell is directly between peeta mellark and cecelia whitvale. " something about them having the technology to do it. " the rest is blurry ! fatigue and fear aren't the cause of this one though. it was an intentional drowning out. all being audible doesn't mean she won't try to actively respect her fellow captives' wanted seclusion.

Finnick had learned how to handle most things. The exhaustion after a long day of putting on a show for the cameras, the sickness that settled over him each Games season, the quiet anxiety that stalked him from deep in the shadows back in Four — all of it paled in comparison to the overwhelming panic that gripped him in moments like these. 

He had to have known their routine. Nothing Snow did was a coincidence, so the only explanation was that he had found out about his eight o’clock phone calls with Annie. The President had to have been watching the clock, waiting for the exact moment to dial the number to Finnick’s place, letting his hopes rise and rejoicing when they came crashing down when the victor answered the call only to be met with a gruff request to meet. Finnick knew it wasn’t an invitation, not really.

Standing outside the heavy wooden doors that led to Snow’s office, he tried to slow his racing heart. The attempt proved to be futile. There was no relaxing when the man who had you on strings was ready to take the reigns once more.

The door creaked open at the hand of a decorated peacekeeper who wasted no time ushering him into the room. Finnick took his mark, coming to something of a parade rest in the middle of the office to hide his shaking hands. Eyes downcast, he knows better than to speak first, so no greeting comes from him — not that he felt confident that he’d find the words to do so. Instead, Finnick stands motionless and vulnerable before Snow, waiting for him to deliver his commands.

finnick odair particularly displeases the official with his insolence. such a strategist should understand better. though snow remains infinite steps ahead, one would assume a bright gentleman like the man from four would at least see one or two feet ahead of his own actions. " my boy, " he greets the victor not dissimilarly to one of his grandboys. constantinus will one day prove as disingenuous as the trophy before coriolanus. " please take a seat. we have so much to discuss. "

pleasantries remain in essence as libations that he knows mister odair fancies are spread on the grand desk. however, there is no feigning a grin. instead, face remains stoic. though the younger man's actions have been foolish as of late, there's no importance to be gained in such dishonesty. he's an intelligent man, one who doesn't require a hand to hold to see the blatant. " my deep apologies for disrupting your long-distance call with miss cresta. i understand congratulations are in order natheless. " there's a pause in the air: an opportunity to address the known.

the exhaustion that took over her for the first week or so has dulled just enough that she can feel her limbs when she goes to bed at nights — and, to some level, it has allowed her to note she's getting better. maybe she should feel some pride on that, but all she feels is that being prepared can bring her one step closer to be ready when the time comes, when she can see the light go out of snow's eyes herself (he's hers; she's been promised that so long ago; for rue, for cinna, for twelve, for peeta).

sweat drips against the sides of her face when she finally stops; the water bottle (one of the perks those training are afforded) stops half-way through her mouth when she catches the staring. katniss has never cared for people looking at her, and it ain't any different when the one stalking is haymitch (nevermind there's been some progress between them, enough for her to almost regret the scars across his face). "y'd told me to not show then. 's on ye." of course, she doesn't mention that, then, there was no way she could have shown any close combat prowess; defeat was natural whenever she thought that she would be doomed if it ever came to that. no one's here is trying to kill her (that she can be sure).

yet, he holds off. " she could maul ya like one of 'em bears in sev'n. it'd be easy for 'er too. i've seen 'er 'viscerate someone so cleanly, it would make ya'r cleanin' of game look fuckin' sloppy. " haymitch had seen the girl after hunting, and it's anything but - which should tell you something. it's another thing everdeen gets from her daddy, he assumes. arms come up at the next accusation, and he cannot help but chuckle. because they had, and it would probably piss her off since the language felt no different from districts seven and twelve talking about their tributes. well dangnabbit, the girl might as well be stepping into the second act of the third quarter quell.

" well - she could'a said ya'r jackshit when we were, " he shrugs. " ya need to talk'ta odair. might be a good sparin' partner for ya since 'e just spent a few months in the dammit dumps. " both are good for the girl frankly. the mockingjay is lucky though as mason is a good trainer and every bit as agile as the woman has ever been. kind ( ish ) thoughts are short-lived though as the girl calls his bluff. or is it a bluff when he didn't technically say anything ?

" i'm pushin' fi'ty. if what'ya have goin' for ya is bein' fitter than me - 'ey might as well call ya the cooked goose. " tongue needs a sharpening when it comes to its sharpness, like a blade that's getting too dull. it goes without saying that he's somewhere between a shell and a ghost, either way also riddled with long-term, self-inflicted harm from vices and a general disregard. but while he offers up finnick, notice how abernathy doesn't - and won't - step up to the plate himself. " sometimes it's not 'bout bein' better - jus' smart'r. " unfortunate words from a man who used a force field to a girl who was about to use some lethal berries.

Narrowing his eyes, the gamemaker wondered if the man before him was really so dense. Setting aside the fact that scurvy was a non-communicable disease (he knew District 12 struggled, but were they all so poorly educated?), and contrary to whatever Haymitch seemed to be suggesting, Kyan was from the districts. He had grown up in One, relying on his father’s business connections to make it to the Capitol after he’d aged out of the Games. Kyan decided to ignore the comment, choosing to instead match the other’s snide remark. He’d never been one to prioritize deescalation. “I’m not sure what the going salary is for victors these days,” his tone was just as smug, “but if you’re in such dire need of an orange I’m sure I have some spare change here.” He crosses his arms over his chest, gaze critical. “And I won’t even make you beg for it. Maybe.”

he knows what the answer is, but he pokes feathers like he's toying with some birds. " ya know after mine kinda, " he gestures to his neck, finger going across in a singular motion, " i would love to give somethin' back to chaff and seeda'. a victor from eleven would feel as good as one from twelve, " he's rambling. tongue is all but bitten off before he stupidly, and in the opposite of cleverness, mentions something about odds. he's chuckling to himself. in the morbidness of everything, he finds something of a joke. he'd much rather laugh than cry ( or acknowledge his mental health. )

unfortunately, the gamemaker might get a disease as the mentor gets closer to him. arm wraps around shoulder like they're good pals and suddenly haymitch's line of vision is fully directed towards the center. " weird ya'r around here though. who 're ya tryin' to meet ? " he asks, with alcohol drenched breath. it's assumptious. and perhaps if he wasn't a mess tonight, haymitch would reason that kyan was just passing through rather than being suggestive in any way. there's no monopoly of who walks on these sidewalks.

he knows it's not a townie thing as they all have their inclinations to be assholes. but it doesn't surprise the victor that this is the company peeta likes to keep. " stand by h'wat ya wanted to say. ya said it alre'dy. no point in takin' it back now. " he's never been good at pep talks, though he's also taken every step to avoid learning. but he's a feral animal of a person, and he snarls with his teeth. he's not one to stop an argument because it's the sensible thing to do. either someone walks away, or fists come up. and when it comes to the latter, he's long stopped fighting back. other victors - the girl especially as of most recently - have long dealt some impressive blows to the withering man.

" there's not much ya can do, kid. h'wat can ya feasibly do ? ya'r just some townie from twelve. stay 'live long enough and maybe ya'll get a chance to see the boy 'gain. "