Mine! Mine! Mine! //[Mace/Percy Blitz]

[d10f ekta ram // [earthling]]

a note from the desk of

Mace Emberstatt

of District Ten

when you never thought that it could ever get this tough,
that's when you feel my kind of love

Mace was having trouble staying in the present. Whenever he sat down, his mind wandered to the past with Julian, to the future with Saffron. He knew he existed somewhere between the two, but he couldn’t quite place himself. And rather than walk the path to discovery, he kept wandering away, because he really ought to be thinking about Bailey and Kizzy. That’s why he was in the Training Center. Not to see the entire flock of his offspring, not to trade tense remarks with Julian, not even to court Saffron.

He was here to mentor, and he was doing his usual shit job at it.

The second night in the Capitol he went down to the main dining hall, rather than hiding in the Ten apartments. His children were still at the crèche – well, the younger ones, anyhow. He wasn’t entirely sure how Kieran occupied himself while they were in the Capitol. That he was nearing the same age as some of the tributes should have worried Mace more than it did. If anything, he hoped Kieran would befriend some of them, so that he might better understand what kept Mace up at night.

This year, there were some very young tributes indeed. He hadn’t meant to track Percy Delacroix, but almost as soon as he sat down with his plate of roasted chicken and vegetables, he couldn’t help it. She was tiny but it was clear after a moment of observation that she was not fragile.

When she got up, he shadowed her. Luckily she was headed for the dessert table. He couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound completely insane. Hey, have you met my son? He’s about your age. That worked on five year olds, not teenagers. He picked up a plate, taking up a spot behind her in the queue. Once he got as far as opening his mouth, but nothing came out.

Until she reached for the last slice of decadent chocolate cake.

Mace Emberstatt, the victor – not the father – cleared his throat. “I believe they were saving that for me.”

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

[presto][/presto]

all those eyes on me
as i sink into the open sea
color in my sheltered mind
fill the gap between you and i

If I am going to die, I'm taking as many cupcakes, chocolates, cookies, and cakes as I can fit into my mouth down with me.

From the moment I uttered the words- "I volunteer!"- I could feel oblivion begin to breathe down my back. It has only crept closer, slinking through the shadows with the grace of a panther. I expected its breath to be hot, like the hellfire the Castiels promised, but oblivion is breathing winter on the back of my neck as it waits patiently in the wings.

Calypso would hold me tight and tell me that oblivion does not exist. But Calypso is not here to protect me from myself.

And beyond this world, darkened, ravaged, ruined, there is no god watching over us. If there was, its eyes could not break through the darkness.

The church lied to us- I confirm that once more, as another fuck you they can't hear me say from six feet under.

I swear I can hear my skull cracking against the chaos pounding through my mind- I stand up and shake my head, nearly darting over to the dessert table where a piece of chocolate cake awaits.

But the moment I reach for it, a deep voice behind me says, "I believe they were saving that for me." The sudden words send a shudder rolling through my body, and I whip around to see-

a torso.

My eyes follow its path until they are focused on the face of a man, who must be at least an entire foot taller than me. His eyes are cold, steely, and blue, striking against his dark hair. And I swear, they are drilling into my skull.

I know him the moment I see his face, but instead of minding my manners, I place my hands sharply on my hips as if to say, You don't scare me. (And he doesn't.)

Rather than fear, a playful defiance burns through me.

"I don't see your name on it, Mr. Emberstatt," I sass back with a lopsided grin.

"You have all the time in the world to stuff yourself with cake," I go on, but despite the grim meaning behind the words, my tone remains impish and light.

"I only have now."

we are the sleepers
we bite our tongues
we set the fire and we let it burn
through the dreamers we hear the hum