gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
OKAY HERE IS REMADE BLOG
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
OKAY HERE IS REMADE BLOG
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
OKAY HERE IS REMADE BLOG
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
OKAY HERE IS REMADE BLOG
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
OKAY HERE IS REMADE BLOG
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
OKAY HERE IS REMADE BLOG
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
OKAY HERE IS REMADE BLOG
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
OKAY HERE IS REMADE BLOG
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
OKAY HERE IS REMADE BLOG
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
OKAY HERE IS REMADE BLOG
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
OKAY HERE IS REMADE BLOG
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
OKAY HERE IS REMADE BLOG
OKAY!!! hi hey i’m going to remake this blog!
url will be the same but i need to clean it up. i only have one drafts but i’m hoping remaking will help me get my muse back and i would love to start new shit. stay tuned for a link!
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
You sleep coiled; tightly wound.
Hands are fists beneath pillows,
clenched above cotton sheets.
You are at war, even in your dreams.
Rest Achilles, the world will wait | p.d (via p.d vulpe)
gunsmokebreath-archive reblogged
Listen up!
illripyourthroat
everyone has ghosts behind them. it’s a given when you live in the districts. the lucky that are HERALDED AS VICTORS get to have THE BLOOD OF THE GHOSTS on their hands as well. she KILLED tributes in her game. she KILLED her family. she KILLED cashmere, a career that maybe, maybe if they took the time to talk to about the revolution to her would’ve been on their side.it doesn’t matter. SHE DOESN’T THINK ABOUT THIS SHIT. doesn’t talk about it. losing your thoughts in the ideas of WHAT IFS just means that you’re going to lose yourself. and johanna fucking mason LOST ENOUGH OF HERSELF in the cells.
she knows that most people are fighting this war for THE GOOD OF THEIR PEOPLE ; for their DISTRICTS or their FAMILY or FRIENDS or LOVER. maybe some people are fighting it for all of these reasons. but johanna is an island of a girl, that ONE TREE that stands atop a hill surrounded by empty meadows. her family is DEAD, her friends KEPT AWAY in a ten foot radius, her friends NOT CALLED friends but allies, her lovers NON-EXISTENT. anyone she touched or touched her ( that she wanted to, that wasn’t a FORCED HAND IN THE CAPITOL ) is dead, or might as well be. she doesn’t stick around and doesn’t leave the possibilities for others too. this war she’s on the rebel’s side in, that she was asked to join as per finnick odair’s request during the quell ? she has her own settlement to bring the capitol. IT’S PERSONAL. IT’S REVENGER. her anger of what they took from her from the moment she was born is what drives her.
johanna waits for him to tell her how she scared him. most do. most cringe when they see her and think of her games and how she won. someone once had the audacity to tell her it’d be better to die than to do THE DIRTY WORK she did. the last person that said that had their back against the wall and her hand on their throat before they were separated. BUT GALE DOESN’T. gale instead asks if she’s hungry or thirsty. her eyebrows furrow for a second in confusion. she’s in a hospital bed, sure, but it’s been a while since anyone asked her if she needed anything. would he really get her something ? she thinks she is probably hungry, or at least should be, but she DOESN’T WANT HIM TO LEAVE the room. not that she’ll say it aloud, but it doesn’t matter THE CONTRAST of the fluorescent lighting of this place and what the cells looked and felt like. she’s not ready to be alone again. not yet.
❛ -–––––––– a little thirsty. i guess. but FINE. really, you’d do wonders for me if you could get my iv to drip a bit quicker. ❜
he’s never killed anyone. or. well. that’s not true anymore is it? before he hadn’t but this is the now not the before. when he watched the game (and a thousand other times. when his sister cried because she was hungry. when his father died. when his brothers were hurt by peacekeepers) he thought about killing. even dreamed of it on the worst days. he was a hero in those dreams. killing made him stronger and more dangerous but people loved him for it. even with blood stained hands they had looked at him with love in their eyes because they knew it had all been for them, not him, it was personal but on a grander scale. but the point was before this, when he was a boy and war was a dream he had thought killing could save you that it could make him feel like a hero. it didn’t. it only made him feel heavy.
and this was all new for him. the killing and blood. it wasn’t for her but he didn’t ask how it was for her. (do you feel it? forever? do yo wonder if they were really good people in a bad situation?) he knew better despite the curiosity clawing up his throat.
“ can’t do that. only the doctors can. “ the morphling was kept track of, that much gale was sure of. if it wasn’t it would be gone in a heartbeat.
there are other things caught in his throat besides dangerous questions. you’re safe no. the revolution is going to protect you. he doesn’t know her well, doesn’t know her at all, but something in his gut tells him that those words would be meet with anger or violence, at least as much as she was capable of in this state. the doctors would be angry with him if he put their new patient in danger. probably.
“ finnick’s here too, you probably knew that, but he’s...ok-here.” okay isn’t true, is it? finnick is far from okay. but he’s alive so that’s something.