❤️💕 Gatlin ((GUN!)) Ruckers [FIN]

[jupiter graves [d1] 🚀 pogue]

FC HERE IF I FIND ONE WITHOUT TRIS'S HELP


DISTRICT ONE . CAREER . EIGHTEEN

[jupiter graves [d1] 🚀 pogue]

G  A  T  L  I  N

"Again." 

His own words feel heavy as he says 'em, eyes narrowed in on the form in front of him. He's fashioned the dummy to look like his own sister as some sort of mockery to the relationship they're supposed to have, a single flick of the weapon sending it out towards the form, a CRACK! sent into the air, echoing into oblivion and leaving a darkened mark on the dummy's cheek in its wake. 

Sibling love is weird like that, loving to hate and hating to love someone at the same exact time, wanting them dead just as much as you want them alive. He reasons that is what Career siblings are always meant to end like that: vying for the attention of a Father who only took on the role when their Mother passed, fighting for a crown only one person could bear, unstoppable force meets immovable object. It didn't help that their upbringing was bathed in practical uniqueness, learning the real-world trades with the Career skillset as an added bonus.

With uniqueness comes attention and with attention came the need for unquenchable love of the applause, to draw the spotlight and keep it no matter how badly it burns. They even called him Gun under the sound of the crack of his own weapon, burned it into his skin and memory like that of a cattle.

But with attention comes desire and their Father's long-gone dream of becoming a Career legend comes true in the shadows of his own children, and with that comes a hatred for each other so deep only Death could cut it.

He loves it all, truly. The ranch, his training, his Father and his Sister too. Just, he'd love it all so much easier if that last thing were gone. He breathes in a sigh of longing, deadly.

"Again."

[Deleted]

he simply must go into the games

accepted!

[jupiter graves [d1] 🚀 pogue]

*slays lusciously*