immortalmuses

[immortalmuses]

Peeta's Leg Prosthesis

ㅤㅤㅤThrough no real fault of Katniss's actions, we know that Peeta ends up losing his lower leg in the wake of the 74th Hunger Games. The muttations mangled his calf to the bone, and a subsequent infection led to blood and marrow poisoning regardless of Katniss's attempted tourniquet. By the time the pair were brought to medical after being declared winners, even the advanced healing techniques of the Capitol couldn't save Peeta's lower leg.

ㅤㅤㅤ(Or so we are told. Perhaps the Capitol medics didn't want to save his leg. After all, a Victor with a permanent limp makes for excellent marketing.)

ㅤㅤㅤPeeta has a transtibial amputation, which leaves him in need of a below knee prosthesis. As a Victor, he's is provided with a fairly sophisticated prosthetic (comparatively), which is designed to be comfortable for walking and standing for moderate amounts of time. The leg boasts a biomimetic hydraulic function in the ankle and foot to replicate movement with a biological limb, and has a microprocessor to adjust control of its hydraulics. This microprocessor tracks Peeta's movement patterns in order to improve his mobility, but it also ensures the Capitol can keep track of his actions even when they aren't watching. Hypothetically, the Capitol could also utilize the microprocessor to hijack Peeta's leg, leaving him unable to flee/resist if he's gone against Capitol directives.

ㅤㅤㅤIn addition to its mechanics, the prosthetic is fitted with an outer chassis that emulates the shape of an actual shin and calf muscle, ornately decorated in Victor's colors. While comfortable enough for the basics, the prosthetic is ill-suited for any kind of strenuous activity or sport. Fortunately, Peeta is able to remove the leg socket and suspension liner so his remedial limb can breathe, but he's careful to only do so behind closed doors and out of sight of others, even Katniss.

ㅤㅤㅤPerhaps the most important element of the prosthetic is how it is very clearly not Peeta's property. Like the fully furnished houses given to them in Victor's Village and the Clothes provided for their promotional trips to District parties and events, this prosthetic leg belongs to the Capitol. It's only granted to Peeta as part of the required trappings of any Victor.

ㅤㅤㅤBut then the Quarter Quell is announced, and Peeta volunteers in the Reaping (because of course he does). An ornamental prosthesis designed for walking and standing would not last five minutes in an Arena, water-based map or otherwise. The Capitol is left the question of what to do with Mellark's below knee amputation.

ㅤㅤㅤThey don't technically have to give him a prosthetic at all, since they don't provide upper body prosthesis to any other tribute. But considering how well-liked the Baker's Son is amongst the Game's audiences (and how well he manipulates his pre-game interviews), it'd only be more Bad Press if they didn't at least grant him some leg to stand on (ha ha, see what I did there?).

ㅤㅤㅤBut what kind of prosthesis to provide? The gamemakers don't want to give him a swimmer's fin, both because those types of prosthetics aren't designed for use out of water and because it would immediately ruin the "surprise" of the Arena map. So they instead opt for an adaptable waterproof prosthetic with as tight of a fit to his residual limb as possible. Considering the suits they are outfitted with for the Quarter Quell, the prosthetic might even be an integrated part of his suit, or permanently bonded to his leg for the duration of the Game. This is to reduce the odds of sand and debris working its way into his liner and prosthesis socket, as well as seal out damage to the mechanical components of the prosthetic leg (which it almost certainly suffered anyway, due to prolonged exposure to salt water and the electrical shock Peeta recieved from the Arena barrier).

ㅤㅤㅤThe result is a more restrictive, more painful prosthesis that Peeta must wear non-stop for the entirety of the Quarter Quell, which any amputee would know is sheer misery. There's a good chance that either the prolonged exposure to salt water or the electric shock of the force field caused the mechanical joints in the limb to break down, which would further limit his mobility. Even if Peeta had been rescued from the Arena, there's a reasonable expectation that the Gamemakers might have planted his tracker in his prosthetic, which would have been far more difficult to remove. The Capitol could have used this to track the Rebels back to their base in District 13.

ㅤㅤㅤThere is more to be said about Peeta's leg following his re-capture by the Capitol, his torture and brainwashing via tracker jacker venom, and his existence once he's recovered by the rebels, but that will feature an entirely different nature of prosthetics and will have to be extended in a part two. :)

[immortalmuses]

Anyone else have a weird thing going on with their activity tab on tumblr? It will inform me of an activity, but if I try to click on that activity to see the post itself, it just... won't show it?

[immortalmuses]

SPARTACUS: VENGEANCE - WAR OF THE DAMNED - Agron's loyalty to Spartacus

[immortalmuses]

ㅤSo. It appears I now have no less than....

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[counts on fingers]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...five! Five blonde haired, sad-eyed white boys lurking on this blog.

ㅤㅤㅤ...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFive!!

[immortalmuses]

this website really is a rollercoaster. Yesterday I got some lovely ask box positivity but also somehow lost 4 followers. truly, tumblr is the trick to fucking up your serotonin levels

[immortalmuses]

ㅤㅤㅤPeeta returns Katniss's look of surprise, his hand pausing mid-reach for the bread knife. “…Oh. Uh, not today, no. Effie's coming, remember? She likes to have…” He gestures demonstratively to the overkill arrangement of food on the table, even more excessive than usual for a mere three District Victors. The blonde starts to say more, maybe insert the kind of weak joke he knows only Katniss will laugh at. But when she indicates a preference for the rye bread, Peeta subsides and carves out several slices with a practiced hand.

ㅤㅤㅤIn the silence, he thinks with a touch of wonder: She noticed.

ㅤㅤㅤWhen it's too quiet, and no one in the Mellark family deigns to visit (they don't know what to do with him now that he's come back alive), and the house the Capitol granted him feels too large, too empty… Peeta bakes. Not just bread, but pastries too, the kind that require time and patience and focus. Anything to quiet the phantom screams (muttations, tributes, Katniss) in his head. Anything to fill the hours between her asking him to Stay.

ㅤㅤㅤ(He hadn't thought she noticed. No, wait, that's not quite right. He hadn't thought anyone noticed, least of all Katniss. The blonde spent too much of his life in the background of other peoples' stories. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that there's a reason to look at him now.)

ㅤㅤㅤWith the tips of his fingers, Peeta picks up two slices of the rye by its crusts and transfers them to Everdeen's plate. He tips a crooked half smile at her, finally adding, “She'll be disappointed.. Effie, I mean... that we didn't lay out the fine china for her. She likes to think these visits are little celebrations…”

ㅤㅤㅤMaybe they are. After all, Katniss is still alive. And so is he. And that's more than Peeta could have imagined when Effie pulled his name out of a glass fishbowl.

Ever  since  they'd  returned  from  the  arena,  Katniss  has  felt  as  if  a  part  of  her  had  been  left  behind.  A  state  of  derealization  where  nothing  feels  real.  She  knows  that  she  has  a  new  home  in  this  desolate  area  of  the  district—Haymitch  being  it's  sole  occupant  until  the  pair  arrived—knows  that  her  mother  and  sister  finally  have  a  safe  place,  readily  available  meals  without  needing  to  scrounge  or  barter.  Yet  she  feels  like  a  wraith,  meandering  through  this  place  near  aimless.

The  forest  doesn't  offer  the  solace  it  once  did,  though  better  than  nothing  despite  Gale's  insistence  to  return  to  it  leaving  a  bitterness  on  her  tongue.  As  if  the  expectation  was  to  return  to  normal,  or  whatever  this  normal  was.

But  the  nightmares—some  nights  waking  with  her  throat  raw  from  her  screams,  screams  she  hadn't  known  were  hers  until  she  was  bolted  upright  in  bed,  candlelight  still  flickering  as  total  darkness  only  invited  dread.  And  yet,  no  matter  what,  he  is  always  a  few  steps  away.  It  should  be  suffocating—but  it  isn't.

Her  eyes  flit  away  from  the  spread  to  look  at  Peeta,  a  renewed  sense  of  calm  on  his  face  than  before,  likely  because  she'd  agreed  to  sit  down  for  once.  But  at  the  mention  the  bread  was  from  a  different  district,  her  brows  furrow  somewhat.

"  You  didn't  make  them  yourself?  "  She  finds  herself  asking,  no  judgement  in  her  voice,  dare  it  be  a  near  imperceptible  disappointment  at  the  notion.  Still,  she  offers  a  gentle  nod.  "  The  rye,  please.  "  She  says  quietly,  her  hands  slowly  reach  out  to  start  adding  pieces  of  the  assorted  cured  meats,  some  fruit  to  her  plate  before  she  looks  to  him  again.  Her  expression  is  neutral,  despite  the  hum  under  her  skin—as  if  there's  an  unspoken  anticipation  she  can't  quite  put  her  finger  on.

[immortalmuses]

☆ put this star into the inbox of your favourite blogs. it's time to spread positivity! smooches your face tbh! uwu

DANI!! the way you have made my OTP dreams come true for over a decade, and inspire me with your amazing cosplay skills, and help me become a better person just by being around you!! I love you FOREVER.

[immortalmuses]

☆ put this star into the inbox of your favourite blogs. it's time to spread positivity!

The way I love you, for ever and ever and ever. I loved you in 2014 and I love you now, ours is a friendship that has no end!!

[immortalmuses]

ㅤㅤㅤEven on the days that are good days (nightmare-free mornings, afternoons of reliable quiet), Peeta knows it's a gamble whether Katniss will listen to him. He tells himself it doesn't matter. That's she's her own person, a survivor who would be standing tall in Victor's Village regardless of whether Peeta had made it out of the Games or not. Everdeen doesn't need his reminders to eat, or his offers of help, or his… or his love.

ㅤㅤㅤIt's better that way.

ㅤㅤㅤBut better that way doesn't stop the expansive feeling from swelling in Peeta's throat any time Katniss reaches across this invisible, yawning chasm between them, however small her gesture. He doesn't react overtly to the bump of her knuckles against his fingers, but the shadow of his smile warms, broadening like sunrise on his face.

ㅤㅤㅤ“Alright.” He echoes back to her, gaze quickly averting to the selection of food on the table. It's too early for Haymitch (which isn't saying much, they're well past noon), and the dining room is otherwise empty, leaving them alone together. Which is… rare. Perhaps more rare than it should be, considering the story they tell to all of Panem.

ㅤㅤㅤ(Peeta knows…. he knows the unspoken barrier between them is as much his own doing as Katniss's. It's a safe distance, a means of self-preservation. Because he had to, because if he didn't…)

ㅤㅤㅤAnyway. It's better this way.

ㅤㅤㅤGesturing to the fresh loaves of rye and wheat bread arranged on the wooden cutting board at the far end of the table, the former-baker offer automatically, “Want me to cut you a slice? They, uh… They brought them in fresh from District 9 this morning…”

@immortalmuses asked: As she moves to pass him, Peeta reaches out and catches Katniss's hand in his own larger palm. He drops the touch almost immediately, fast enough that she hasn't the chance to pull away from him (again). "You should eat," The boy says by way of explanation, head tipping towards the spread quartered fruit and cured meat. And bread... Always bread, if Peeta has any say in it. Hopeful, the corner of his mouth ticks up in a smile.

Her  gaze  is  sharp  as  she  feels  the  pressure  of  calloused  fingers  and  a  light  hold.  Katniss's  instinct  is  to,  in  fact,  draw  her  hand  back  but  he's  releasing  it  before  she  can.  She  can't  deny,  he  has  grown  intuitive  to  her  nature—disarming  and  unsettling  all  at  once.  She  looks  away  then,  denying  the  flicker  of  warmth  that  stirs  in  her  chest.

Her  instincts  also  tell  her  to  deny  him,  to  find  some  reason  to  distance  herself  from  him.  Verdant  hues  then  lock  into  that  honeyed  gaze  and  catches  that  brief  twitch  at  the  corner  of  his  mouth.

Damn  it.

"  Alright.  "  She  acquiesces  quietly  as  she  moves  back  the  way  she  came,  her  hand  knocking  against  his  briefly,  the  touch  making  her  eyes  flutter  but  ignores  it  before  she  pauses  at  the  table.  She  stares  at  the  food  for  a  lingering  moment  then  sinks  into  a  chair.  Admittedly,  she  hasn't  eaten  much  at  all  today—and  that  isn't  helping  anyone.

[immortalmuses]

3 apples tall.. hopefully nothing will happen to them

[immortalmuses]

I saw a post saying that Boromir looked too scruffy in FotR for a Captain of Gondor, and I tried to move on, but I’m hyperfixating. Has anyone ever solo backpacked? I have. By the end, not only did I look like shit, but by day two I was talking to myself. On another occasion I did fourteen days’ backcountry as the lone woman in a group of twelve men, no showers, no deodorant, and brother, by the end of that we were all EXTREMELY feral. You think we looked like heirs to the throne of anywhere? We were thirteen wolverines in ripstop.

My boy Boromir? Spent FOUR MONTHS in the wilderness! Alone! No roads! High floods! His horse died! I’m amazed he showed up to Imladris wearing clothes, let alone with a decent haircut. I’m fully convinced that he left Gondor looking like Richard Sharpe being presented to the Prince Regent in 1813

*electric guitar riff*

And then rocked up to Imladris a hundred ten days later like

[immortalmuses]

I miss writing Nicky

[immortalmuses]

DRAMATIC & PROTECTIVE RELATIONSHIP PROMPTS *  for the ones who want to keep you safe from harm

get behind me.

go inside and lock the door and don't come out until i say so.

are you all right? where are you hurt?

over my dead body.

i promised them i'd keep you safe.

i sleep better when you're next to me.

are you serious? i'm not letting you risk your life.

don't go. it's safer here.

i should have been here. this is my fault.

here. take this gun. don't pull the trigger unless it's absolutely necessary.

they told me to watch you.

i won't let anyone lay a hand on you.

stay close to me.

i'm not worth saving. please.

can you stay? just for a little while? it would help.

it's too dangerous out there.

i thought i'd lost you.

can you hear me? hello? where are you?

they're all afraid of me.

they told me you'd be trouble. clearly that was an understatement.

one of us has to make it out of here.

is that a bruise?

get back. get back right now.

did they touch you?

i already lost you once. i'm not going to lose you again.

a few more steps. we're nearly there. i've got you.

where does it hurt? let me see.

oh my god, you're covered in blood.

i love you, but you have to go.

climb on my back. i'll carry you.

i wish you'd stay.

i slept here all night. i couldn't leave you.

stay with me. i can keep you safe.

no. i've made my decision. you're staying here.

holy shit. are you okay? what the hell happened?

we have to get inside right now.

quick! hide! in here!

if they know you're with me, they'll leave you alone.

if they attack again, we'll be ready.

this never should have happened.

i want you to run, okay? run and don't look back.

you're all right. you're safe. it's over.

i'll feel better once you're out of this.

i don't have nightmares when you're here.

where have you been? i've been calling you all night.

your phone went straight to voicemail. what's going on?

i don't want anything to happen to you.

i can't stand the thought of losing you.

i won't let them touch you.

when we met, i promised myself i'd keep you safe.

where'd they go? i'll give them a piece of my mind.

here. squeeze my hand if it hurts.

i'll lay beside you.

no. it's non-negotiable. you're staying here.

i don't want you to die, okay?

listen to me! i know what i'm doing!

i can't lose you again!

do you hear me? i love you! i've always loved you.

i've got you. i'm right here.

can i stay? i'll take the couch.

tell them you're with me.

you can make it. i believe in you.

are you kidding me? who decided this?

here, i'll pick you up.

get back in the car. i'll handle this.

if anyone can do it, it's you.

let me carry you to safety.

i don't do well when you're away.

[immortalmuses]

ㅤㅤㅤShe. Has. Ussss. Spite's voice is something akin to a taunt inside Lucanis's head, sounding far too smug for a creature that fails to grasp even the basics of human-to-human dynamics. But for once the demon's jibes don't make Dellamorte bristle. Instead, he turns the words over in his mind, watching Gwen with an expression too complicated to read.

ㅤㅤㅤHope, she says. Even after all that has happened, and all that is sure to happen still, Gwen somehow has hope. Lucanis cannot help the wonder in his voice as he replies,  "… that is… a fearless approach, Rook. Never doubt that I admire you for it."

ㅤㅤㅤHe does not say that he shares equally in that hope, however. The Demon of Vyrantium long ago learned to temper his expectations, particularly in the face of unlikely odds.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ(… it is a lesson he learned perhaps too well).

ㅤㅤㅤStill, there is something that Lucanis can promise, something he knows to be true, beyond any shadow of doubt. Setting his own half-empty coffee cup aside, the Crow reaches out to graze the back of Rook's hand where it rests on the balustrade, his fingertips callused against the curve of her knuckles.

ㅤㅤㅤ"… I am with you, Gwen." He says, a simple confirmation, "Spite and I will stay at your side, regardless of how these coming events unfurl. If we…" Lucanis hesitates, his thumb flexing, touch sweeping over the fine bones of the back of Rook's hand, "… if you are not destined to leave the field of battle, then neither shall we."

ㅤㅤㅤHis words are a contract in their own right. Unlike anything Lucanis has spoken before, but equally Unbreakable.

What has been done to him isn't his fault, nor Spite's for that matter. Never once has she ever looked upon him as if he was something that needed to be fixed. Even if he may think himself broken, she never thought so. If anything, his resilience has only been something she's admired about him. If only it didn't come at the expense of himself.

Her eyes flit over to him as he draws out her sentiment, brows lifting in slight worry as he speaks of how just uncertain things are for them. His thoughts have echoed her own many times over, but she can't help but feel a twinge of regret that he must be so quick to assume the worst. Being prepared for the worst to come, sensible.

But is hope really so unattainable?

" You speak truth, but I have hope. " She softly challenges him, letting her cup come to rest on the wide ledge so that she could focus on him instead of allowing herself to use it as a distraction. " It isn't perfect. Lords, it's not even great, " She offers with a breathless laugh, knowing that their chances of surviving blighted gods isn't in their favor. It changes nothing.

" But I have you. " She speaks gently, which has her eyes widening slightly as she looks away from his gaze. " And Spite. " She adds, thinking she has recovered some that stumble, but a blush climbs up the apples of her cheeks. " The whole team, really. So I'll allow myself to hope you and I might yet return here together as just people. "

[immortalmuses]

The old guard (2020)

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Then the heart of Éowyn changed, or else at last she understood it. And suddenly her winter passed, and the sun shone on her.  'I stand in Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun,' she said; 'and behold! The Shadow has departed! I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the song of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.' And again she looked at Faramir. 'No longer do I desire to be a queen,' she said. Then Faramir laughed merrily. 'That is well,' he said; 'for I am not a king.'

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003, dir. Peter Jackson)

The Return of the King by J. R. R. Tolkien (published October 1955)

[immortalmuses]

bit of a rough day. my partner had a health scare, something neither of us would have considered a possible issue until... I don't know, we were old? where does the time go, how are these the only bodies we get when they are so damn fragile?