#theyre worse than useless

[demento-mori]

Love how its less than a week before uni starts and our tutors literally havent told us fucking anything. Like complete radio silence, we dont even know what days we're in

[z0mbiefrank]

notice how everyone who replies to anti-cop stuff with "well who are you gonna call if someone attacks you?!" has never had to ask for help from the police

[zackcharine]

I need to try harder to get out of bed but augh

[cavity-collector]

i genuinely need to be put down like a dog i cant do this anymore man holy shit

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

Pussy smells weird but the tampon smelled normal so idek

[palomajena]

Bruhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

Don't you think it's a bit sad how socially if you're bad at something or something doesn't go your way you can talk about it freely and everyone is sympathetic and when something finally goes right everyone cheers

But if things usually go well for you you're supposed to shut up about it lest it sounds like you're bragging or trying to make others feel miserable and when something finally goes wrong everyone calls that "karma", is happy about your misfortune or tells you to suck it up because "everything else goes great for you why do you care"

I don't know I suppose I'm just a privileged whiny child that is upset that something isn't as good as she wanted it to be

[autism-corner]

hm

[lunarflare64]

Love being in so much pain we consider going to the ER

[pinkseas]

(bighugemassive isat spoilers vvv)

thinking about loop in the sif is out au has me experiencing a very special kind of agony

just. just. siffrin, alone!! looping completely alone, none of their party members, not a soul in all of dormont, no star under the favor tree. only them, for years-decades-thousands of loops, until they finally, finally give up. until they can't do it anymore. and then waking up. in a world where their entire party is stuck in that time loop EXCEPT for them.

having to watch themselves over, and over, and over again, messing up and being utterly useless and holding every single one of the others back. the only idiot who doesnt remember. loop, working with a party that is no longer theirs to save a version of themselves who has never known a day of real hardship or suffering. a stupid, aimless traveler trapping each and every one of them here, loop included, who doesnt even have the decency to know theyre doing it! funny how there are two of them, now, and yet BOTH of them have completely and utterly failed their entire party in such drastically unique and awful ways. forcing them to relive this for eternity.

at least none of loop's party remembered. at least loop was useful in that they could take away the other's pain, shoulder it all on their own. siffrin can't even do that. all they're doing is hurting everyone more. and they don't know.

they're the reason, they're the key, it's their fault everyone is suffering and they dont even know!!!! useless. worse than useless. if only one of these loops they would just stay dead. it'd be better for everyone, that way, for their party and loop and even themselves. loop knows how it feels. loop understands. yeah the others have each other and loop had no one but at least loop is capable of helping the others now!!! at least loop can remember!!! siffrin doesnt deserve this he doesnt deserve the love and care and affection (affection he doesnt even RECOGNIZE, doesnt appreciate or cherish, takes for granted over and over and over again) he doesnt deserve to wake every day in blissful ignorance of the way hes ruined everything and everyone around him!!!!!!

loop who knows it all and who gets to watch the entire party except for siffrin work together and support each other. gets to see just how much better off they are without sif in the way. loop isnt even siffrin, anymore. theyre Good now theyre Useful now they Understand now. siffrin doesnt and never will. watching the careful, quiet way siffrin falls further and further behind. another timeline and still completely alone. thats just what the universe wants from them, loop thinks. for every siffrin out there to suffer.

and ohhhh if/when they break the loops depending on how that goes... siffrin who did nothing to contribute who did nothing to deserve this who shouldnt even EXIST being handed victory and unconditional love on a silver fucking platter and loop who just has to watch............

[ephemerensis]

Steamroller // Tim Drake x GN! Reader

happy new year! little enemies to lovers kind of thing kind of (theyre just like on opposite ends and they don’t really know it). stalker update for all interested parties: i think he’s starting to lose interest and give up 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️! also i graduated! yippee! NOT proofread.

—

Your favorite nights were ones like these, windswept and carefree as you sped down an empty street on your motorbike. With the last of your tasks wrapped up for the week, it was smooth sailing until the next rotation. Or so you thought before you heard a familiar grating voice bark at you, swinging into the view of your side mirror and chucking something at you.

Switching lanes, you narrowly avoided the batarang that came whizzing by. This guy again. Swinging your bike back around, you pushed the brakes to screech to a halt.

“Nice try bat rat, maybe aim next time!”

If it wasn’t so dark, you’d see the scowl plastered on his face as he stalked towards you. Red Robin hated you, and that was an understatement. Which was fine, you didn’t like him much either.

“Didn’t need to,” he spat. Pressing a button on his suit started up something like the sound of metal scraping pavement behind you. Before you could react, the sharp little object he threw at you came reeling back where it came, and the wheezing sound of your back tire losing air came with it. He threw a grappling hook at you.

“You’ve got to be joking.” In a way, it was your fault for taunting the guy. But this was the sixth encounter this week, if he wasn’t constantly out to get you, you’d think he were in love.

“What were you doing at the rendezvous point Penguin set up?” He stalked towards you, for what you weren’t sure. Sometimes he just wanted to provoke you, other times he’d just go for the swing. But you didn’t have time for that today.

“Intel, not that it’s your business.” You ripped a patch out from your utility belt, slapping it on the tire he just rudely tore a hole in before applying pressure to see if it’d last the way back.

“I’ll decide what my business is.”

“You stalking me everywhere says otherwise.” The tire sank more than you would’ve liked, but it would do. He stopped ten feet in front of you; looks like he didn’t want to fight tonight either. You rummaged through your pockets for good measure.

“I am not stalking you. You’re just where trouble happens to be.”

“Yeah. If that helps you sleep at night.” When your fingers brushed against the smooth plastic you were searching for, you mounted the bike again, turning on the headlights and adjusting your mirrors. It’s important to drive safe. “Anyways! Move.”

“What-“ Before he could finish his thought you pushed on the accelerator, watching him dive out of the way. It’s a shame his reflexes were so fast, if you ran him over he’d be out of commission for at least a month.

You tossed the plastic discs behind you as you sped off, leaving a flush of smoke behind you. He was good, but he wouldn’t be able to trace you with this.

Mercenary work never really was for you, let alone vigilante work. But growing up poor in Gotham and constantly grappling with loan sharks and the other unsavory groups your parents brought upon your family taught you a few things. And you found out you were pretty good at getting things done, the sneakier stuff: spying, stealing, occasionally taking out single targets, the quiet things. It felt bad but being hungry felt worse, survival of the fittest or something like that.

You were so good you paid it all off, and made a profit; enough to get yourself and your brother through college, and give the ol’ crime lords the slip. And things were good.

You liked your 9 to 5 office job, sorting through papers and typing on your laptop. You liked talking to your neighbors and inviting them over on the occasion for taco night. You liked your partner and the cozy apartment you lived in together.

Until your useless brother threw it all away, talking to the wrong people, getting into debt again, throwing around your name where it would mean anything, and it was square one.

So now you’re here. Running from some vigilante freak that has it out for you when you haven’t even done anything all that bad; it’s the people you work for he should be worried about. Instead he wants to breathe down your neck every night of the week, and he fails, every time. Maybe that was why he got so mad, as if there aren’t bigger fish to fry.

When you got back to your apartment, it was almost three in the morning. Slipping in as quietly as you could manage, you breathed a sigh of relief to find all the lights still off. Your boyfriend, Tim, always sleeps with a night light on, something about being scared of the dark. Lucky for you, he worked ungodly hours which made sneaking around a lot easier.

You’d just slipped into your pajamas when you heard the front door open and someone flicked the lights on. You could tell Tim was frustrated by the way he walked, brisk and heavy as he tugged off his coat and tossed his tie into the abyss. But he softened when he saw you, stopping in his tracks with an almost guilty look on his face, like he was sorry for feeling anything but joy in your presence.

“Oh hey, were you waiting up for me? I told you not to.” You shook your head, making your way over to press a kiss to his cheek and hold his hands. They were still cold from outside, the walk from the parking garage must’ve been treacherous.

“Are you okay?,” you asked, running your thumbs over the back of his hands. They were rough hands, surprising for a rich boy, but in your palms they were always so gentle.

He let out a breath, laughing a little before settling into a rueful smile, “I can’t get anything past you, can I? I’m okay. Just work stuff.”

“What kind of work stuff?” You tightened your grip on him, tugging him over to sit with you on the couch. He complied, leaning on your shoulder as he sunk into the cushions.

“Just something I can’t quite… resolve.” He sounded so tired. Business always went well, and Tim was a genius, it was a wonder how he ran into so many problems in the office. Sometimes you wanted to reach into that pretty skull of his and take a peek into his brain, maybe he was just overthinking things, or maybe you’d finally understand that you could never understand. Both would soothe you.

“Yet. Everything works out in time, and you’re the best I know. Can I help?” You felt him tense when you ran your hand over his shoulder, pulling away immediately to check on him. But before you could manage to ask he reached for you, shaking his head.

“No. It’s sensitive material. I’m okay,” he insisted, leaning on you again as he perched his arms neatly where they would fit around you. “Can we just stay like this for awhile?”

It was a good thing he never asked for anything malicious, because you’d say yes to just about anything he asked.

“Yeah.” You’d never known power so intimately before you held his skull to your chest. The way he surrendered himself and was whole, shedding the burdens of his responsibilities entirely to be vulnerable for a moment. But it was coupled by an intense fear, that his trust was rare and very easily abused or misguided if you weren’t careful. And if you weren’t, it felt as if he wouldn’t ever be vulnerable again.

“Thank you, and I love you,” he whispered. Your tired, hardworking boy.

“I love you more,” you answered.

It turns out the “I’m okay” business was a massive tri-colored bruise that bloomed on his left arm. He was careful to hide it, and if you didn’t wake up a little earlier than usual you would never have known. You didn’t ask, clearly he didn’t want you to, but you were concerned— and moreso curious. He did spar with his siblings, this you knew, but they’d never do something like that to him. Maybe he was sleep deprived and got stuck between the elevator doors somehow, you wouldn’t put it past him. If you had time later, you could check in while he’s in the office, drop off dinner or something to make sure he wasn’t getting picked on.

You got up an hour after him, as you always did. There was a rhythm to your morning routine that you adored, it was comfortable; reliable. Tim made the coffee, and you made breakfast. When you first moved in together he’d offered to cook, being the one to get up first and all, but he was hopeless. Anything beyond instant noodles was a fire and food safety hazard. And you made a mean scrambled egg.

You cooked so he did the dishes, a compromise you never objected to— it was your least favorite house chore. You’d loop his tie for him when he was done, and he’d kiss you on the forehead to leave first. Your job started a little later.

At least it would if you hadn’t requested a temporary leave of absence while you worked for Gotham’s worst. You had to report whatever intel you gathered yesterday night to Black Mask. He’d have another assignment for you after, you were sure. But if you were efficient with these things, it could all be over in a month or so.

That’s what you told yourself as you waved him out the door. Thursday nights Tim usually got back at a human hour, if you could wrap up business early you could be home by the time he was too.

Black Mask was waiting for you by the time you got there, unsurprisingly. It never got easier looking at him, freakish and impossible to read, behind his skeletal metal teeth.

“Penguin’s plan?” He’d asked before you had the chance to fully enter the room, eager as ever to maintain his grasp on power. Breathing isn’t worthwhile unless you’re winning he told you once.

“He wants to spread some influenza with his birds. It’s not serious, but the cure he’s selling is. It’s highly addictive and one of a kind. I got photos on this drive.” You placed it on the man’s desk, pushing it towards him as far as you’d dared. “He’s colluding with the woman who runs the second biggest pharm-tech company in the city. It has a six week timeline, some of it was in motion last week so five from here out.”

“Okay.” Without missing a beat he’d already decided your next assignment, “get me the cure.”

“Four people have access. A team or a raid would be better suited.” You took a breath to answer him. This wasn’t possible, at least not easily. It wasn’t a job you wanted to take, and it wasn’t practical. Money wasn’t Black Mask’s pursuit, it should’ve been enough just to thwart his enemies, not profit from them.

“I don’t pay you to argue.”

You had to swallow the fear that crept up your throat. Fear of death was always within reach, that much was obvious when you took on mercenary work, but the fear Black Mask brought on was a little more primal. Something instinctual you had to ignore.

You couldn’t take this job. The both of you knew it would go over the hours you were signed for, anything that could arouse suspicion from your normal life was carved into stone as off limits. Tim couldn’t know, that was the rule. And this assignment could take you weeks, “…it breaches our contract.”

“I pay overtime. And let me remind you, you’re in no position to say otherwise.”Disagreeing twice was a hefty endeavor and the man was right, you had your brother to consider. It’s always funny, the way you think you have any say in things. “Get me the cure.”

You didn’t have time to pack up, leave a note, or meal prep dinner. It was burdensome to disappear, at least a little. But Tim would be okay; hurt, but okay. It’s not like he’d miss you terribly, he was working over-overtime as it was, and you hoped he would forgive you when you got back.

So you vanished. It was quiet work, mostly tailing people to get a lead, working to worm your way in to the right social circles, sorting through files while people slept.

Red Robin was looking for you, or at least investigating your activity. He’d have caught you a few times now if you weren’t more focused on working during the day. Not that he knew what was going on, that much was evident. Not that he would be able to do anything if he did run into you again anyway, that boy just kept losing. Or maybe he didn’t want to win.

It was hard to know what his objective was. Just that he thought you were bad news and made things harder than they needed to be. But he did intrigue you. Righteous Red Robin never fought dirty and it was a little flattering how he was insistently so hot on your trail. Maybe you’d tease him about it after this whole ordeal and he could throw another grappling hook at you.

It only took two weeks to gather enough standing in Penguin’s sphere to have access to his office. With all the snooping you’d done, you knew every possible password and key you’d need to access the files for Black Mask. If you broke in tonight, you’d be by daylight. Theoretically.

So you took to it. It wasn’t hard to break in once you knew where everything was. Nothing was terribly discreet, just about as hidden as valuables would be in someone’s home. Getting into the main computer was a breeze, you’d talked up enough patrons and underlings for them to spill every access code they knew. As you slipped in a USB to transfer the remaining files you needed, a familiar set of footsteps sounded behind you.

Brisk, decided, and determined to be quiet, you knew he was lurching forward with a right hook before you had the chance to turn around. You jerked your body out of the way before he could make contact, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could manage. Thankfully the file transfer already started before he rudely interrupted your heist, you just needed to buy time.

“Can we not do this today?” You couldn’t help the annoyance creeping under your skin; Red Robin’s timing couldn’t have been worse. If he’d shown up ten minutes later you would’ve been gone. Of all the times to barge in, he chose to when you were just about done.

But he was faster than he usually was, before your thoughts could finish flowing through your skull he was throwing something at you again; muttering a sharp, “shut up,” in tandem. A gasp left you as it grazed your cheek, he’d never drawn blood before, even so minutely.

Before you had a chance to react he was on you, swinging his staff with enough force to kill a man. It was all you could do to avoid it before the next swing came, overbearing and deadly, unlike you’d ever seen from him. Any ounce of annoyance left in you evaporated in favor of fear and adrenaline, he was angry.

“What is your problem? If this is about running you over, I knew you’d dodge it!” The knives you had tucked away in your boot straps were useless, you didn’t have time to reach for them and even if you had them there were no openings to intervene. With a stroke of luck, he hit the wall hard enough for his staff to get stuck, giving you enough time to make a run for the window. The files would have to wait.

Just as you were reaching to pull up on the windowsill, a batarang caught the fabric of your shoulder, pinning you to the wall. Another grazed your outreached hand, distancing you further from your escape route.

If you were scared of Black Mask, you were terrified of Red Robin. Or at least, this state of him. You’d never noticed before how the whites of his mask looked like headlights, barreling towards a sundered deer. With whatever cognition you had left, your uninjured hand reached for the dagger in your boot, but you were slow and he wasn’t feeling gracious. He grabbed your wrist with one hand, pinning it next to your shoulder, and with the other he jerked you forward by your collar.

A glimpse of metal hanging on your neck made his scowl deepen and you winced for whatever he would throw at you next. But instead of a punch or getting hit with a blunt object, you felt the release of pressure when he snapped the dainty silver chain from you.

“Where did you get this?” he barked. There was something off about the way he said it, untethered. The necklace in question wasn’t something controversial; a chain with a pendant Tim had inscribed with his initials next to yours.

It wasn’t particularly valuable, nothing anyone would steal, but it meant something untouchable to you. Exactly eight months into dating he told you he loved you for the first time and presented you with it. The letters were rough around the edges from mistakes in sanding and carving when he etched the metal for you himself. And now it was being dangled in front of you, a reminder of all you could stand to lose if things went wrong. So easily snatched from you, as if they never belonged in the first place.

“Give it back.” You moved to sweep your leg under his feet, kick him, whatever you could to get it back and get out. It wasn’t fair in the slightest, he should know it wasn’t something to steal. But he just tightened his grip on your wrist and kneed your ribs once hard enough for you to keel over and stop moving.

“Where did you get this?” His anger was building, you could hear, but you didn’t care much anymore. He didn’t have the right.

“It’s mine,” you spat through gritted teeth.

“Liar.” A pang of confusion hit you, as if this were something to lie about. He was in your face now, and you glared back behind your own mask. If he didn’t back off soon you had half a resolve to bite his nose off. “What did you do to the owner? This is your last chance.”

Like Red Robin could do anything to you. You felt like a dog backed into a corner, sure enough. But upper hand or not, no one wins in a fight against a rabid dog, even if you manage to put it down.

“And I’m telling you for the last time, it’s mine.” But if you get put down, you can’t crawl back. The courage behind your words was starting to sound like desperation. “My boyfriend gave it to me and you need to give it back.”

And then your resolve was gone altogether, a plea more than a demand, for absolution. Your voice quivered on the last few words, maybe it was for the better, it seemed like that was the only part he heard anyway.

The blood in your wrist started flowing again as he let go of it, looking at you with something akin to terror. Swallowing lead, you considered taking the chance to run; rip the sleeve that was caught and book it. But something held you there, vulnerability? Or some deviant of the terror he was feeling. Your legs wouldn’t move now.

He was slow in reaching for your mask. You must’ve been slower, because you didn’t stop him. You couldn’t do anything at all, not with the way your heart was pounding in your ears. Everything in you was screaming all at once, but you couldn’t understand a thing they were saying and it was getting hard to breathe.

You squinted to adjust your vision once the mask was off, and something wet slid down your cheek. Dust must’ve gotten under the thing, you weren’t one to cry.

“Y/N?” He’d caught you and you let it happen. You heard the chain clink on the floor, and you were so sorry to Tim that you let it happen. Soiled something he put time into. Maybe it was fitting, you always took that boy for granted.

You flinched when he reached for you, pressing your eyes shut. But Red Robin didn’t cuff you like you expected. Knock you out, threaten you, chain you to a street lamp outside for the police to collect. Instead you felt arms wrap around you, hefty and secure, a welcoming warmth in juxtaposition to the cold, stagnant office air. And you knew these arms, and you knew this feeling, and you knew this scent.

“Tim?” It came out like a squeak, you didn’t intend that.

And then his head was buried in your shoulder again, his spot as it’d always been. “I thought someone took you.”

He took the liberty of freeing you from the wall first, and you dropped to the floor. Your knees felt like jello. It made sense, some of it. The late nights and the injuries.

“Without a ransom note?” you murmured. You didn’t know what else to say. It’d been Tim the whole time.

“Don’t joke.” He knelt beside you, tucking a stray strand behind your ear. After the shock, the guilt came barreling in. You caused his injuries. You got in his way. You ran away without saying anything. You’d been hurting him the whole time.

“I’m sorry.” You squeaked for the second time. After the guilt was the confliction. You didn’t know to do. Half reaching for him, half shying away.

So Tim grabbed your hands, stilling you completely with just that. He pulled a strip of cloth out of his belt to wrap around the palm he cut moments before. It was shallow, nothing that would scar.

He was probably as confused as you were, quiet to sort out the events as they’d unfolded— and the before. There was a lot to ask and a lot to explain, you wouldn’t know where to start. And if you did start, you didn’t know if you could stop. It was too much. You were tired. There were time constraints. The first bit of reality slipped itself into your mind, the two of you weren’t the only two in the world and you were here on a job. “Please don’t ask, I’ll tell you when I have the heart but please don’t ask. I might cry. I’m sorry.”

“You’re already crying.” His thumbs brushed your tears away as if just to prove it. But they stayed after, running the pad of his fingers over your cheeks for as long as you’d let him. A soothing pattern.

“Am I? I’m sorry.” Your eyes were locked onto him, and you knew he was looking back even if his eyes weren’t visible. The longer you stared, the more the tears seemed to flow. And you couldn’t fathom why you were crying.

“For what?” He said it as if nothing were wrong, and that’s all it took for the dam to burst. Flinging your arms around him to cry your worth into his shoulders. You didn’t deserve this boy.

“I love you,” you sobbed.

“I love you more,” he answered.

[mayxo-hxh]

okay 2 questions....

do you think its more likely that illumi kills hisoka or hisoka kills illumi and how do you think it will go down?

what would you WANT to happen with one of their actual deaths?

You're not really going to like my answer here because it completely negates both questions.

I don't think either of them will die or kill each other.

I think it's natural to think so considering the current setting of the arc and what was revealed and their characters, but how I see it, their relationship has proven to be very nonsituational. As in, they aren't really hanging out and helping each other just because they happen to need each other here and there. They hang out and help each other because they unironically see each other as friends.

Illumi had no reason to help Hisoka out in the hunter exam, yet he did anyways. And they stayed together most of the time. Illumi had no reason to help Hisoka out during the yorknew dilemma, yet he did anyways. It's not even in his area of work to just disguise as people for a few hours before leaving. He's an assassin. Hisoka didn't have to help Illumi out during the election arc, Illumi was more than capable of finishing this entire mission alone. And yet he did anyways.

Goes without saying that Hisoka constantly calls Illumi his friend behind his back and also did so in front of him, and Illumi made no move to correct him.

So I can't really imagine, with all this said and done, that they'd actually have a reason to hunt and kill each other on the black whale. I understand the doubts with the stuff Illumi said in their marriage chapter but im still much more inclined to believe theyre working together against the troupe, as that would make much more sense. They've done nothing but work together against everyone in the entire anime and both Illumi and Kalluto worked against the troupe with Hisoka in yorknew after all.

I also feel like this is a general Hisoka misconception but-- Hisoka doesn't want to die. I feel like people think he hired Illumi to "hunt him down" because he wants Illumi to actually kill him and I have to disagree. Yes, it does speak volumes about what Hisoka thinks of Illumi, as in he truly is capable of killing him because theyre equals. But does Hisoka actually want Illumi to kill him right now? Negative.

Some people even say Hisoka has always wanted to go out in a huge fight or whatever-- I genuinely have no idea where tf they get that from lol. Hisoka brought himself back to life for a reason. He wants to live. He never planned on dying against Chrollo. He never ever plans on dying against people he fights. If Illumi and Hisoka were to ever truly fight, Hisoka would never let Illumi kill him without giving it his all. He WILL fight for his life.

And the same goes for Illumi. Illumi doesn't want to die and has no reason to want to actually die by Hisoka's hand. He has duties and responsibilities as a Zoldyck eldest and he's not going to throw it away in the name of... twisted love? lol

And I think lots of people find all of this hard to believe because theyre very used to villains getting bad endings or getting "what they deserve" in anime which is completely fair but let me, no, ALLOW ME to point you to one of my favorite villain groups in hxh that had a good ending despite being complete pieces of shit that would've deserved worse than death.

Genthru and the bomber team.

Genuine shitty people that scammed lied massacred people. They only cared about each other a lot but saw everyone else around them as lower than useless scum. They would've deserved to be left for dead. And yet, what happened? They were healed and they lived. They went on with their lives. Togashi could've very much made Gon just kill genthru to show how powerful he is and his sense of justice blablabla but that just isn't what the anime is about. Everyone in hxh is morally grey. At the end of the day Gon, Killua, and Bisky just wanted the cards from genthru and his friends and moved on.

A lot of people fail to realize this when it also comes to Hisoka and Illumi. They can just get a good ending like that. Do they deserve it? No. Does it matter whether they deserve it or not? Nope! This is hunter x hunter. And as far as I see it, its an anime about the power of platonic and romantic love. And Hisoillu are a specific type of love that is going to get a happy ending despite not even remotely deserving it. We got the meruem and komugi sad love ending. And we're getting the gay version of it except theyre unredeemable and horrible and they still get to be happy. Those are my thoughts.

Also in general I just genuinely cannot see Togashi continuing the anime without his favorite babygirl Hisoka being alive. Like even when he killed him off he revived him like 2 pages later in the same chapter he can't stand the idea of even letting his death marinate for a single chapter lmfaoooooooooo

[dreamingofnoreality]

I think the part I hate the most in Mockingjay Part 1 is how after the District 13 bombing, when theyre trying to film the propo, Katniss is like, "He's gonna kill Peeta if I keep being the Mockingjay!" because in the book, she breaks down for literally, and I mean LITERALLY, the exact opposite reason.

“Try the line again,” says Cressida. “ ‘Thirteen’s alive and well and so am I.’ ”

I take a deep breath, trying to force air down into my diaphragm. “Thirteen’s alive and so —” No, that’s wrong.

I swear I can still smell those roses.

“Katniss, just this one line and you’re done today. I promise,” says Cressida. “ ‘Thirteen’s alive and well and so am I.’ ”

I swing my arms to loosen myself up. Place my fists on my hips. Then drop them to my sides. Saliva’s filling my mouth at a ridiculous rate and I feel vomit at the back of my throat. I swallow hard and open my lips so I can get the stupid line out and go hide in the woods and — that’s when I start crying.

It’s impossible to be the Mockingjay. Impossible to complete even this one sentence. Because now I know that everything I say will be directly taken out on Peeta. Result in his torture. But not his death, no, nothing so merciful as that. Snow will ensure that his life is much worse than death.

Up until then, Katniss had been terrified that Snow was going to kill Peeta. It's during the bombing that she finally realizes that Snow would lose his leverage against her if he took Peeta out of the picture.

It’s on the third night, during our game, that I answer the question eating away at me. Crazy Cat becomes a metaphor for my situation. I am Buttercup. Peeta, the thing I want so badly to secure, is the light. As long as Buttercup feels he has the chance of catching the elusive light under his paws, he’s bristling with aggression. (That’s how I’ve been since I left the arena, with Peeta alive.) When the light goes out completely, Buttercup’s temporarily distraught and confused, but he recovers and moves on to other things. (That’s what would happen if Peeta died.) But the one thing that sends Buttercup into a tailspin is when I leave the light on but put it hopelessly out of his reach, high on the wall, beyond even his jumping skills. He paces below the wall, wails, and can’t be comforted or distracted. He’s useless until I shut the light off. (That’s what Snow is trying to do to me now, only I don’t know what form his game takes.)

Maybe this realization on my part is all Snow needs. Thinking that Peeta was in his possession and being tortured for rebel information was bad. But thinking that he’s being tortured specifically to incapacitate me is unendurable. And it’s under the weight of this revelation that I truly begin to break.

Peeta's death would mean she had nothing left to lose. But the idea that her actions as the Mockingjay would result in Peeta being tortured? THAT is what makes her fall apart, which is what the Rebels were afraid of happening and is what motivated them to finally arrange the rescue mission. They were very much aware that Peeta was intentionally being kept alive and tortured to punish Katniss and, aside from Finnick, they were all actively trying to keep Katniss from figuring that out.

“Cut,” I hear Cressida say quietly.

"What’s wrong with her?” Plutarch says under his breath.

“She’s figured out how Snow’s using Peeta,” says Finnick.

There’s something like a collective sigh of regret from the semicircle of people spread out before me. Because I know this now. Because there will never be a way for me to not know this again. Because, beyond the military disadvantage losing a Mockingjay entails, I am broken.

The movie just completely ruined it by having Katniss think Snow was warning her that he was going to kill Peeta. The whole point was that she realized Snow was NEVER going to kill Peeta. Death would have been a mercy, and Snow was not merciful. He was going to keep Peeta alive to torture him in response for everything Katniss did for the rebellion then stick him on TV to show her.

[stuffyflowers]

follow up to the bad driving post from yesterday. explanations under cut also feel free to argue with me lol

So basically top left = characters who drive badly but not in a way that will cause a crash, top right = characters who are actually all things considered good at driving, bottom left = characters who should not be behind the wheel ever, bottom right = characters who are good drivers in theory/most of the time, but certain factors can make them become car crash material.

Dalv: In my mind, Dalv is the most cautious and safe driver ever, to the point where he loops back around to being a shit driver. You do not want to get stuck in a lane behind this guy he will not go even CLOSE to the speed limit. He will probably let you through when he has right of way. etc etc. Ig on the bright side he doesnt get into enough situations where a car crash could really occur? yay?

El Bailador: Kind of guy who drives windows down music blaring probably speeding slightly at all times but somehow has never had anything bad happen to him. he is being protected by higher powers because he is sooooooo nice and cool :)

Ace: Ridicules all his friends for being bad drivers then actually gets behind the wheel and he sucks almost as bad. Yk, given how his whole thing in the Wild East is facepalming at the five's antics while arguably being worse than a lot of them in that regard. Why are you encouraging a child to gamble. Why are you tormenting blackjack with mooch. Whats his problem

Edward: Okay I didnt really know where to put Ed.. Hes in a weird situation where,, i think his biggest problem would be finding a car thats actually suited to him. Like how he wants to play the guitar but his hands are too big to actually play any of the ones they have. After that though, I think he'd be pretty good, at least decent! He does have some anger issues to deal with (beat up blembino that one time lol) that could cause problems but hes working on it :)

Moray: Pretty self explanatory. The most normal feisty five member. Probably their designated driver 90% of the time. The only reason theyre not completely top is bc their one weakness is whilst they ARE the voice of reason, they do ultimately go along w the group most of the time even if they feel whats happening is wrong. Maybe picks up on the five's bad habits a bit? Overall still a trustworthy pick for driver i think.

Flowey: Ok.do not take this too seriously..............Ik he doesnt have feet for th pedals but consider. Its funny. He can use his vines trust me (also even if he cant physically drive i feel like he'd have a really good understanding of driving. guy who has read every book is bound to have useless knowledge on topics that arent at all relevant to him. and you cant crash the car if youre not driving i guess!!!!!!!!!! but also. funny.)

Ceroba: Similar case as Ed. Actually good at driving but holy fuck the road rage. I feel she'd be worse at responding to it than him bc she has so little self respect. very "I will kill us both😳" attitude abt tailgating and shit like that. Usually better at keeping it in when shes driving with someone else.

Martlet: Maybe she should be furthest down bc she is the only one to canonically crash a vehicle…, Idk I feel like she’d be sliiiightly better w a car where her focus has to be constantly checked, she cant get distracted while filling in questionnaires with clover if she’s driving. That being said she is still. Yeah.

Mooch: similar to mart. Just cannot see her being a good driver. Sorry girl </3

Starlo: starlo.

Axis: faceplanted right in the center bc hes a wild card to me. Would he have insufferable road rage? Would he actually be pretty chill and responsible? Can he even drive if his foot is a singular wheel? Who knows.

[mysterioushistorian]

KUPRUM: >OBEY.

FOLYKL: what

FOLYKL: dude    you look worse   than usual      and that pastel godtier outfit was         already gay enough     whatever that word   means

FOYLKL: the fuck did you     do to him

)(IC: isnt he beautiful

FOLYKL: i know u want to    �� be wrapped in     her tentacles and all     but cmon dude      shes right beside you      its your chance

)(IC: he wont listen to u gurl

)(IC: hes all mine now

)(IC: like how he always wanted to b rite?

)(IC: theres nofin u can do u disgustin voidrotten garbage motha fucka

FOLYKL: no wonder youre called      the batterwitch

FOLYKL: this coming from      me     a   witch myself

FOLYKL: also   im not even voidrotten anymore     see my      eyes      theyre back        im godtiered

)(IC: ya still gutterblood carp sides ur psionics weak as fuck

)(IC: ur useless as shit gurl u have no use for ma ass

)(IC: bitch u should be dead

)(IC: i aint cullin yo bulge buddy here cuz hes actually a powerful psionic

)(IC: always wanted to be a battery, whale hed make some fintastic use

)(IC: and hes under ma control now, right buoy?

KUPRUM: >ALL HAIL HER IMPERIOUS CONDESCENSION.

KUPRUM: >ALL TRAITORS AND MISTAKES MUST BE ELIMINATED.

KUPRUM: >AND THAT INCLUDES YOU.

FOLYKL: holy shit   dude

FOLYKL: im gonna sound like a       fucking normie  right now     but kuprum dont you       recognize  me?  folykl?

)(IC: already told ya bitch )(E WONT LISTEN TO U

)(IC: a loyal soldier to da empire now, like how he was always destined to b

)(IC: and YOU

)(IC: soon dead, like how u were always destined to b

)(IC: what u already were supposed to b 

)(IC: now buoy

)(IC: get dat stinky ass DEAD

KUPRUM: >yes, your highness

KUPRUM: >folykl darane, i was wrong by helping you. as a loyal soldier to trizza and the condesce, i should have ELIMINATED you the first moment i set my bulbs on you.

KUPRUM: >BUT NOW YOURE DEAD LOL

FOLYKL: oh fuck

doc text, i had the idea for this interaction and i knew i had to write it

[bitchfitch]

a sorta weird thing that's been happening in the background over the last few weeks is that my left eye is dying.

The inflammation around the optic nerve has gotten so significant that signal just isn't getting from it to my brain. It still, I was going to say works, but dear God no it doesn't. It still does as it has been doing, it's just not like. being heard. and eventually, that pinching will cut off the nerves ability to talk to my brain permanently.

The thing is is that. This can be stopped. Steroid injections and some pills taken daily. Nothing I haven't done before but I've made the decision to just let it happen.

Steroids cause cataracts. I don't know enough about this shit to explain How, but they do. Theyre why I have cataracts in both eyes.

The inflammation is caused by the amount of damage that my optic nerve has been dealt over the years of having tumors in that eye causing blood clots. It's not in good shape and there's no chance of it ever healing, just being given more time. The inflammation will keep coming back

So I have the option to take the steroids, and have one eye that barely works, and one eye that works but is eventually made useless by cataracts. or to just Not, and lose the barely functioning ones function, and not have to worry about my cataracts getting worse until I'm much older.

For me the choice felt easy but it's one everyone in my life has pushed back against.

And I guess the point, the weird thing, is that my vision is better today than it has been since I was nine because of my brain no longer trying to make the bad signal from one eye match the other.