#until hunger ends

[theoldkyokodied]

The Allegiance of the Ascended Vampire and the New God of Magic

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

Seeing people say that we never see the Doctor and Ruby talking for more than 30 seconds makes me think 73 Yards and Dot and Bubble has just clouded their memories because the first four episodes of this era are almost nothing but the Doctor and Ruby talking and bonding.

Yeah, the Doctor-lite episodes meant we haven't had as much lately, but so many are going on as there's been none at all, as if every episode before 73 Yards was like Rogue where they were mostly separated in their own plotlines.

[crazyexshipper]

It's sooner than later that I'm six feet under

It's sooner than later that you'll be alone

So who will you turn to tomorrow, I wonder?

For when the bell rings, lover, you're on your own

The Ballad of Lucy Gray Baird

[yelenadelova]

Nobody talk to me i’m thinking about how Mags was 5 when the Hunger Games first started. She had to live through those games for all 75 years of them, 64 of them as a Victor. Think about how many tributes she mentored, how many kids she watched the deaths of, how many she felt responsible for. How much she suffered at the hands of the Capitol.

And she helped the rebellion. She volunteered to go into the games again at 80 years old, to save the life of someone she loved. She was part of the plan to help Katniss survive. Ultimately, she gave her life for the rebellion. She died in an arena. She died as part of the very games that tormented her existence for 75 years. And she never got to see the results. She never lived to see Panem free from the games and the capitol. She never got to see peace.

[chimerafeathers]

[ on youtube ]

a concept for the type of OP i'd love to see for the second season of Dungeon Meshi! both s1 OPs are great, but i'm really hoping for one that captures both the "dangerous fantasy adventure" and "comedic cooking adventure" aspects of the series in equal measure, because it's the integration of those two concepts that makes the series special to me. the joyous whimsy and the dramatic horrors are equally important!!

[mayasaura]

turns out I am not immune to dungeon meshi's propaganda

[to-be-a-dreamer]

Gem, who killed her last remaining ally to take their health only to die to someone who refused to do the same.

Gem, who made her team’s strongest alliance on the basis of blood and chaos, unable to understand that eventually, they would have no one left to hunt besides each other. The careers from the Hunger Games.

Gem, who so eagerly killed both of her teammates to take their health when they were only yellow, when the consequences didn’t feel real, but could hardly bear to do the same at the end, even as he begged and pleaded for her to just finish this.

Gem, who didn’t want to be alone at the end. Who was tired of being a leader.

Gem, who for all her hunger and bloodlust never even considered betrayal, who was not new to death but was new to the death game, who loved her alliances and never even imagined turning on them before they had a chance to turn on her, who let people go when they surrendered, who wanted to win so badly for her teammates and for herself but I don’t know if she fully understood what it would take, what it would cost, until she was staring down her closest non-teammate ally as she chose the man who switched sides at the last second over her.

“Gem, you don’t want to do this.”

“No… I don’t”

[definitelynotshouting]

Okay, so, question I've had for a while but never got around to asking, what the FUCK is up with Grian's wings?

If all physical differences in players (like those particularly ascribed to 'Hybrids' in mcyt fanon) in Hunger AU are a result of conscious altering of your own code for the express purpose of achieving YOUR IDEAL BODY(tm) then what does that mean for Grian and his wings? No one seems to regard Grian's wings as "What The Fuck, You Can DO That?!?" so presumably wings aren't so big of a change from normal biology that players can't do that. If so, why is it not more common? Man, if I could have wings I'd jump on that in seconds. Especially with the sheer utility the ability to fucking FLY gives players. Are wings (and maybe other larger alterations) just like, REALLY HARD to code in? If so, that might add a really cool layer of "Oh wow! They must be a really good coder!" to players who meet people like that.

On a related note, Grian seems to have a positive regard for his wings, which is interesting because I would be willing to bet he didn't have that before *insert sounds of worm-bursting and non-consensual body modification*. I imagine seeing his wings would likely feel like a reminder of the Watchers and what they did to him. BUT, Watchers manipulate their own code when they change like Grian did to, y'know, not be a worm anymore so Grian probably specifically chose how he looked, right? So, unless he did so really rushed and somehow made a mistake while doing so (which he might not be able to risk the structural damage of correcting), keeping the wings was a conscious decision. Does Grian just not associate his wings with the Watchers or is it something else? Does he just really enjoy having wings?

HELLO I AM SO GLAD YOU'VE ASKED THIS BECAUSE I HAVE ‼️‼️‼️‼️ MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT IT ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Okay okay so these are all SUCH valid questions, lemme go through them one by one. Wings are indeed something anyone could have if they wanted to code them in-- and in fact, i do believe many other Players have wings throughout the universe!!! As far as body mods go, i like to think of them as decently popular, so its definitely not anything too weird to see. In chapter 5, i even make a mention to Pearl having moth wings she occasionally codes in due to preference!!! So wings of many different types are definitely available-- but the catch is that they're real fiddly to code. You cant just give yourself wings, you have to code in the bone structure, the muscles, the tendons, etc etc, and then you have to change your entire body structure as well to work with and fully support them. They can be awkward and unwieldy, as ive tried to show in the fic itself, and i think that alone can be a big discouragement for Players considering coding in wings, along with the sheer coding effort needed to obtain them and make them functional

And the thing is, elytra already exist-- they're far more compact, they dont take up as much space, you can take them on and off super easily without having to mess with your coding, and they basically do the same thing. Sure, its a pain to get one, but a lot of Players really enjoy the sense of accomplishment, and i think theres a bit of cultural prestige too in that regard. Server milestones are a huge thing in Player culture, and getting your first pair of elytra is a big one!!! So it makes sense to me that people who just dont want to go through the effort of coding in wings (which can then in turn complicate how they code other future modifications) primarily stick to elytra.

And everybody is different-- some people prefer attributes that arent wings. I like to think everyone in hermitcraft generally is a mix of "jeez thats effort, i could be building my base instead of doing that" and "eh im fine how i am, i like it" and "well we have elytra shops everywhere so why bother".

So in short, yeah!! Wings are a bit complex to code in. They're still pretty popular, i think plenty of Players do choose to incorporate them, but it takes a lot of hard and thorough work to make sure they function right and wont bug you out when you use them. There are billions of Players scattered across the universe, so what you're seeing in the fic right now is truly just a drop in the ocean when it comes to Player body diversity :] and then, elytra basically already help Players achieve a form of flight without the hassle of recoding their entire body structure, so i think the majority of Players just prefer to use them instead.

AS FOR GRIAN'S WINGS IN PARTICULAR......

Well..... its complicated. Particularly his feelings about them-- in the fic, i referenced them as the only good thing the Watchers ever gave him, and thats how he sees it, i think: a thin silver lining. He's had many, many years to get used to them, and i think he goes through periods where he hates them and the memories attached, too. Ultimately, he's kinda stuck with them, so i think he hit a form of acceptance (as bitter-tinged as it may be) out of sheer necessity for his own sanity.

As for why he has them, and hasnt coded them out: i think of it as a particular quirk of biology/structural coding. Watchers have a more instinctive way of coding than Players, but a Player-minded Watcher is still going to think like a Player, and thats going to muddle things a lot. Grian essentially had to relearn how to code, in a way that satisfied both Player and Watcher-style coding, and the results at first were.... a little rough around the edges. Once he managed to finally take on his original former appearance, the wings from his true form just kind of.... stuck. I like to think it took a few increasingly desperate tries before he realized he just could not figure out how to get rid of them (bc of how different his new code was), and had to accept that this was just how he was gonna have to live for a while until he finally figured it out. And then, well.... you can get used to anything, if you're stuck with it long enough. I think after a while it just stopped being a huge priority, and then he reached a point where it would be more awkward to live without them than with them, and he eventually dropped the idea altogether. And i think sometimes, they function almost like a scar, to him-- a reminder of what he went through, yes, but a reminder that he did manage to escape. And, ofc, he also just really, really likes flying skdjskdjdj

So yeah, loads of complicated feelings there about his wings, and its stuff i do plan on exploring later in the fic!!! This got a little rambly, but i hope this makes sense and answers your questions!!!! :D its a fun little complicated knot that im glad someone has gotten curious enough to ask about!!!!

[serendipitous-posts]

Can't Catch Me Now is the 'Haunting the Narrative' song

[reds-skull]

Revenant Side Stories

Story II: Graves

[Story 1 - Konchar] [AO3]

Ah yes, the oneshot I promised 4 months ago. I got sidetracked with bloodhunger, and I'm still busy with uni (when am I not...), but I finally found time to write Graves' story! I'll be honest, I kinda procrastinated on this because I wasn't sure I would be able to really capture his voice correctly, but I like how this turned out.

I got a few more characters on the list for side stories, but if you're interested in seeing anyone in particular, you're welcome to suggest them!

“You’re such a piece of shit, Graves!”

Philip smiles as wide as his mouth full of dry MRE cake allows him to, “I know you’re the one that put boot polish inside my shoes two weeks ago, Collins. Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

Collins’ face twists in anger, in a way that is quite satisfying to him, “I was fuckin’ saving that cake for after the op.”

“I know.” Philip swallows, grin finally able to stretch across his face. Collin doesn’t grace him with another reply, instead stomping away while muttering curses under his breath. Serves him right.

He leans back against the armored truck they’ll use for infil, in about half an hour from now. He’s been ready far before that, always the first on the tarmac. He has to, if he wants to be in his superior officers’ good graces, if he wants that promotion.

Being a Corporal is nice and all, but Philip aims higher than that. He thinks – no, knows he wasn’t made to follow orders till the day he dies. No, he’s much better suited to command, to lead, to make the final call.

He just needs to make the higher brass see that as well.

Among the buzzing activity of the final preparations for the upcoming operation, Philip spots Lieutenant Reed inspecting a crate of equipment. The man is build like a shit brick house, all 6’4 inches of pure muscle. That’s not to mention the Lieutenant’s special little revenant status, which makes sure that even if you manage to shoot the giant bastard, he’ll get back up quicker than any human being should. Apparently, healing powers are quite common for soldier revenants, not that it matters when their kind is as rare as it is.

A pang of jealousy shoots through him, at the sheer power the man clearly exudes just by standing there. It goes away quickly enough.

Lieutenant Reed is a great commander, don’t get him wrong, but Philip always thought he was too… caught up by his own moral compass. More concerned with doing what’s just, instead of doing what’s right. Admirable, but dangerous on the field.

A man who puts his and his squad’s life over the mission, is not a man who will go far. A man that puts things like righteousness over the mission…

Philip pities him, really. Reed could’ve been a General by now, if he understood that. But he’s grateful, in a way, that the Lieutenant is the way he is, to teach him this lesson.

The Lieutenant’s eyes meet his, and he motions with his head to move. He ruminated around long enough – time to get to work.

The mission is simple, a milk run, really. When he enlisted, Philip expected to be constantly fighting, to truly feel with each shot how he changes things in the world.

He sure didn’t expect to be loaded up in the back of a truck with five other soldiers, and act as basically a glorified delivery man, transporting gear to an American base in another part of a foreign country.

Those were the fantasies of a younger, stupider Philip. He now knows just how much is required to upkeep a base, both from first-hand experience and from his studies on his time off. After all, being the best doesn’t only come down to his physical abilities, it demands the best mind, the strongest will, the smartest of tactics.

This means he’s got less time to socialize with the soldiers in his unit, but he’s truly not mourning that. They seem like a bunch of idiots anyway. It only motivates him further to get the next promotion, if only to get away from them.

The downside to that, is that Philip barely knows the last names of the people currently in the truck with him. Lieutenant Reed is in a truck ahead of theirs, his rank high enough to grant him the privilege of not being shoved between crates and sweaty recruits.

Philip keeps half of his attention on the low conversation between the soldiers next to him, scanning the empty, dry grasslands surrounding the road.

“Heard the fellas up north have been attacked, last time a convoy went through.” a soldier he thinks might be Johnson murmurs.

Collins answers from the other side of the truck, “yup, I got a friend there. Two from his unit died.”

Maybe-Johnson shakes his head with a huff, “fuckin’ gangs man… The US might as well fund them, with the amount of supplies they drive right to their doorstep…”

“Think we’ll meet them today?” another soldier joins (Gonzalez? Fuck if he knows).

“If we do, I’m going to wipe ‘em out.” Collins grins, and Philip has to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. He couldn’t wipe out his grandma, let alone several trained gang members. “‘Sides” he continues, “we got the LT on our side.”

Gonzalez (???) laughs, “damn right we do! Can’t kill a man twice, can ya?”

Philip internally groans, jaw tightening. They think Reed is some sort of immortal, just because he died once and survived. A fucking bullet to the head would kill him all the same. The only thing the Lieutenant is truly invincible from is infection and diseases - what originally killed him. If any of these bastards ever bothered to pick up a book, they’d know that.

He apparently didn’t manage to school his features well enough, since Collins turns to address him, “what’s with the face, Graves?”

Philip does roll his eyes this time, “just because Reed is a revenant doesn’t mean y’all can just sit back and relax, he’s just one person.”

The road they’re on cuts through a hill, casting long shadows over them.

“Yeah, a person that heals from a stab wound in half an hour!”

“Those are just rumors.” Philip spits, “have any of you ever looked at the actual reports??”

A few soldiers groan as Collins answers, “not all of us are fuckin’ suckups, bro.”

Philip watches the lot of them laugh, a sharp smile slowly spreading on his lips, “not all of us are going to become Sergeants, bro.”

The laughter dies, Collins’ face twists in anger familiarly, “you’ve always been a piece of shit-”

The world becomes bright white for a moment, screams Philip later registers as his own rip out of his chest as the truck swerves and crashes.

His ears ring, limbs refusing to listen to his orders. “Hrgh… shit…” he forces his eyes open, as his hearing returns.

Gunshots flash between the wreckage and the top of the hills, soldiers taking cover behind the upturned truck. It seems like he was the only one blown away this far.

The fuckin’ gang must’ve hit him directly. Just his damn luck.

Philip tries to crawl forward, not particularly keen on staying alone with no cover, but even that small movement shoots intense pain through his body, his vision darkening for a few seconds. He winces, carefully turning to look at his torso and legs.

He swallows down the bile rising to his mouth, blinking down at the deep craters at his right hip. That… can’t be his own body, right? He thinks he sees bone.

Another RPG whistles through the air, missing the truck by only a few feet. His squad turns around, shooting down the gang members attempting to corner them from their flank.

He needs to get to them. They should have enough knowledge of first aid to at least stop the bleeding, or give him a stim shot, fuckin’ anything!

Philip starts screaming, “HELP!!! I’M STILL ALIVE!!!!!” he grits his teeth, desperation starting to crack his voice as he realizes he might actually die here, “COLLINS!!! GONZALEZ!!! HELP!!!!!”

Hope bubbles within him when he sees Collins turn his head to his direction, searching for the source of the shouts in the shadows. Philip raises his arm as far as he can, waving it to catch Collins’ attention.

He thinks it might be the first time he ever felt actual happiness to see Collins’ stupid green eyes lock onto his.

“I CAN’T MOVE, YOU GOTTA FUCKIN’ HELP ME!” he yells, pointing to his right leg.

Collins’ eyes trail down, to the puddle of blood coloring the grass under Philip red. He lifts a hand to his comms, mouth moving too fast for him to read.

He must’ve reported his condition to Reed. Collins is not completely useless, Philip muses.

Collins nods in response to whatever Reed told him, and Philip’s heart drops when he turns away from him, and points to the forest.

They… they’re not gonna run, are they? They’re not gonna leave him here, bathing in his own damn blood, right?!

Yet, that’s exactly what they do. The five soldiers, his own teammates, wait for an opening in the relentless shooting from the hostiles, and run. Without him.

Philip shouts again, anger now booming through his throat, “COLLINS! YOU FUCKING COWARD, COME BACK!!! DON’T LEAVE ME HERE, I’LL DIE!!!!! WE’RE ON THE SAME SIDE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT, HELP- HELP ME!!!”

Collins doesn’t even look back once, and Philip watches the figures of his squad disappear between the trees. He screams in frustration, hands shaking in fury.

His mind returns to the moment Collins nodded. Lieutenant Reed… he must’ve told them to disengage. Ordered them to leave him behind to bleed out.

A hysterical laugh shakes his shoulders. So much for ‘no man left behind’, eh, Lieutenant? Fucking hypocrite. Philip hopes that wherever revenants go after they die, Reed will suffer for the rest of his existence.

His laugh devolves into choked sobs when the reality of his situation sinks in. He’s gonna die. He’s going to die because his own team abandoned him.

Philip always knew they were useless, but he expected them to at least not fuckin’ betray him, y’know? 

As his vision fades for the last time, Philip smiles. Not because he accepts his fate, no.

But it’s nice to know he was right, the whole damn time.

“Philip Graves”

“Graves”

“Graves”

Philip’s eyes snap open, and he inhales sharply. It takes him a few moments to comprehend he’s not in that damn valley he was abandoned in. He’s… not anywhere on Earth… is he?

His own reflection stares at him, multiplied over countless times, like a hall of mirrors in a carnival. He raises a hand to his right side, pressing tentatively at first, and digging into the muscles when he realizes his wounds have been healed.

…What is this place?

“This is my Realm”

“Realm”

“Realm”

Several voices echo around him, and Philip looks around only to see his own wide blue eyes.

“W-where are you?!” he snarls, fear beating at his heart.

“Up”

“Up”

“Up”

He cranes his head up, mouth opening in shock at the creature above him.

A writhing mass of limbs coils onto itself, arms and legs and faces, creating the vague shape of a person. Its face is blank, nothing but a maw. 

“You’re… a Reaper…” Philip mutters dumbly.

“The Reaper of Many”

“Many”

“Many”

The Reaper leans closer, Philip’s body shaking at the sheer scale of it, “so I did d-die.”

He doesn’t know how, but he gets the feeling the Reaper grins at the words.

“YES” “YES” “YES” a terrifying chorus of voices confirms. The twitching limbs seem to move quicker in excitement, “TELL ME, PHILIP GRAVES, WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

Philip covers his ears at the screeching Reaper, eyes squeezed shut in agony. In the back of his mind, he remembers the transcript from interviews of revenants, of this very question they all had to respond to.

Of the identical answer they all give.

“I just- I JUST WANT TO LIVE!!!”

Philip’s quick breaths slow down, when the Reaper doesn’t scream again.

“I just want to live…” he repeats, opening his eyes and lowering his arms. After a few moments of nothing, he finds the courage to look up.

The Reaper’s hand is hovering above him, finger uncurled and pointing to him.

“Give me your soul, Philip Graves, and I’ll let you live” 

“live” 

“LIVE”

Philip nods shakily, “It’s yours, Reaper.”

Giggling bounces between the mirrors surrounding him, gleeful and horrendous. The finger moves closer, Philip leaning back on instinct alone. It feels like his blood is boiling over, brain liquifying into mush, yet he physically can’t open his mouth to scream.

“From this day on, until the day you die, Philip Graves, you are mine.”

“Mine”

“MINE”

The Reaper touches his forehead, his vision flashing with bright colors he doesn’t have a name to.

“My revenant, Revenant of Many”

“Many”

“MANY”

“MANY”

“MA-”

Someone is shaking his arm. Philip pushes away, scrambling back. He opens his eyes.

Something decidedly not human greets him.

“The fuck-” Philip curses.

“The fuck-” the creature answers. It doesn’t have a mouth, or any defining features. Barely a dark shape, like someone cut out the silhouette of a person out of the fabric of reality.

Philip feels an odd presence in his mind, like dozens of eyes looking up at him, awaiting command.

The valley is quiet. He looks up at the hills, finding more shapes lingering, all looking at him. Philip looks back at the one that touched him.

“What are you?”

The shape answers by echoing his voice, “-you?”

Philip breathes out a small laugh, hand carding into his hair in amazement.

His admiration of his new powers is cut short by the sound of an engine. Philip jumps to his feet, body still feeling a phantom pain of sorts, and orders his shapes, “disappear.”

In a blink, the shapes melt away into the shadows. He runs to the woods, taking cover behind a thick tree trunk when the vehicle rolls around the bend into the valley.

Philip’s eyes narrow when he sees that the vehicle is none other than the US military’s. He averts his eyes, scrutinizing the setting sun. It has been at least several hours since Collins and his group of dickheads left him to die.

The vehicle stops near the wreckage, the fire burning the truck long extinguished. Lieutenant Reed out of all people climbs out, instantly ordering his men to clear the area of hostiles. Burning rage ignites within Philip at the sight.

Without his will, the shadows around him materialize, blank faces all staring at him.

He gets an idea. It’s stupid, and frankly will probably put him in a lot more trouble than it’s worth, but honestly Philip literally died a few hours ago and so did his fucks to give.

“Seize them.” he tells his shapes, his Shadows.

The dozen or so Shadows instantly start running, tackling the squad of soldiers. Philip barely contains a laugh at their terrified screams. One of them manages a shot on a Shadow, but the creature simply ignores the gaping hole in his thigh, and wrestles the man down.

Lieutenant Reed needs two Shadows to force him to kneel, but soon enough they all stay down, lined up on the dirt road.

“If this is how it feels to be a revenant, I would be a cocky bastard too”, Philip thinks to himself while looking at Reed.

“Lieutenant, what the fuck are these- these things?!” one soldier asks frantically.

Reed growls, fruitlessly attempting to shake off the Shadow restraining him, “revenant powers. But I’ve never seen something like this-”

Philip chooses this moment to reveal himself, “impressive, aren’t they? I’d say they’re a fair trade to dying, wouldn’t you, Lieutenant?”

Lieutenant Reed’s face slackens in shock, “...Corporal Graves?”

He smiles unkindly, “the one and only. Tell me…” he crouches in front of Reed, “when you ordered Collins and his group of bumbling idiots to abandon me and run away, did you even feel a speck of remorse? If not for me, at least for my poor mother, that would’ve had to live with the fact the men that were supposed to be on his side left him to die?”

The Lieutenant at least seemed to pretend to be horrified, “I- it was the Commander, not me, Graves. I didn’t make the call to leave you behind, kid-”

Philip cuts him off with a few slow claps, “wow, Lieutenant. I’ve already gathered you’re a fuckin’ hypocrite, but a liar as well? You should’ve been an actor instead of a soldier, sir. You’ve got a natural talent right there.”

His digging remarks only seem to make Reed more guilty, “...I may have not made that order, but I take responsibility over my soldiers. You didn’t deserve to die, Graves. I’m sorry.”

Philip falters at the genuinely heartfelt apology. He didn’t expect Reed to actually be sorry about it. It only twists something in his gut further.

Philip’s voice loses the mocking tone it had before, “you have nothing to apologize for, sir. Without you, I would’ve never received such power.” he spreads his arms, motioning to his Shadows.

Reed’s brows curve upwards, regret painting his features, “really, I should thank you, Lieutenant.”

Philip grins as wide as his mouth allows him, not a lick of joy within it, “thank you, for letting me die alone.”

He knew he’ll get in trouble once he arrives back to base, but he didn’t expect Major Shepherd to be the one disciplining him.

Philip knows to dread the punishment the moment the Major opens the door, his face severe as ever as he dismissed the other officers in the room.

He rises to his feet, saluting the Major, before the man waves him off.

Shepherd takes the sit in front of him, staring him down for a few tense moments before speaking, “Corporal Philip Graves. Do you know how much shit you’ve put yourself into, with that little ‘prank’ you did to Lieutenant Reed and his squad?”

Philip doesn’t shy away from the Major’s burning gaze, “yes sir.”

Shepherd doesn’t look impressed, “the Lieutenant told me about your powers. Which Reaper got you?”

“Reaper of Many, sir.”

“Reaper of Many… can’t say I’ve met a revenant from it.” the Major drawls, “most of your kind belongs to the Reaper of Flesh.”

The one in charge of healing… Reed’s Reaper.

“Your powers are exceptionally strong, Graves.” Shepherd smiles, oddly enough.

Philip blinks, taken off guard by the praise, “... thank you, sir?”

The Major leans back, his demeanor less serious, “no need for formalities right now, Graves. I’d like to speak to you as an equal at the moment.”

…What is the Major’s angle here? He doesn’t seem angry at him anymore.

“About what?”

Shepherd smirks, something about it raising the hairs on Philip’s arms, “What do you see yourself doing, four, five years down the line?”

“...What?”

“Your aspirations, Graves. Aiming for Lieutenant? Captain?”

Philip frowns in confusion, “Commander, sir.”

“Commander, huh?” Shepherd hums, “I have a… proposition for you, Graves.”

Proposition? “I’m listening.”

“What do you think about PMCs?”

The rapid change in topic leaves Philip unsteady in his answers, “they’re… I think they’re necessary, but I’d rather stay with the US military. I want to fight for my country.”

Shepherd looks… disappointed? “Listen, son. I think you’re a great soldier, and you have been given great power to control. People like you… the military will just hold you back.”

Philip inhales deeply. Is Shepherd saying what he thinks he’s saying?

The Major continues, “I think you’ll do much better outside the red tape, Philip.” he pulls out a contract, a frankly absurdly high stack of papers, “I’d like you to work for me. Not as my subordinate, but as a collaborator.”

Philip stares at the papers, “you… you want me to leave the army?”

“Exactly. I want you to become your own PMC. I believe, with your amount of strength, other soldiers will just get in your way.” Shepherd adds, almost like an afterthought, “and you won’t need to worry about any sort of punishment about your actions today, your death will be completely redacted, and the Lieutenant ordered to keep his mouth shut.”

He looks back at the Major’s eyes, deep gratitude welling inside him. Shepherd offers his hand to him, right above the contract that will finally grant him what he worked years for, as easily as writing his own name.

Graves takes the offering, and shakes the Major’s hand.

“My Shadows will be at your service, Shepherd.”

Shepherd smiles, satisfied, “already prepared for your first mission, Commander Graves?”

Commander Graves. He thought it would take years until he was granted the name.

Graves flashes a grin, “was reborn ready, Major.”

[bodega-catto]

People defending Snow because he’s a handsome white man despite him:

-Thinking of selling Tigris (in like page 4 mind you.)

-Despises working with people.

-ONLY helps Sejanus because the cameras are watching.

-Spends the whole book thinking about how things can benefit him and how to make everything to his advantage.

-Tries to remind the public that Lucy Gray “belong to him” and how he was constantly angry about not owning her.

-Calls district people: bestial, not evolved and unfortunate barbaric creatures (yea including Lucy.)

-Tries to delude himself that Lucy is from the capitol because he’s shamed of liking her.

-Says he prefers Lucy in the capitol because he knows exactly where she is at all times (liked Lucy in the games because of the same reason, he could watch her 24/7 and control her.)

- Moved in with Sejanus parents after betraying their son and getting him killed.

-Killed Highbottom who was trying to prevent him from rising to the top because he could see his true nature in his eyes and was afraid of him (and his father.)

And this is all just in BoSbaS, told from his own perspective. Think about everything he did after.

[girlspecimen]

hellooooo tumblr i need advice for what are good snacks or easy meals to keep around in my house. my psych meds mean i have no appetite and can’t tell when im hungry, but i still get physical hunger symptoms and anxiety associated with them. im struggling to feed myself and not have regular meltdowns from being hungry so like yeah anything easy that isn’t just straight garbage or needs to be ordered takeout. thx

[msnihilist]

Sorry, but Phineas and Ferb going to college as adults is soooo fake. 1) What the fuck is college gonna teach them? 2) They're both WAY too restless to study for four years or more for ONE degree. They spent a single afternoon building to the MOON. FOUR YEARS might as well be an ETERNITY. Spending that in SCHOOL?? WASTE OF TIME.

[buffyspeak]

shoutout to the therapist dr aurelius guy from the end of mockingjay btw. like on a slightly depressing note i think part of the point of him on a thematic level is how talk therapy is not necessarily built for everyone or to deal with every problem. like katniss is traumatized in ways she probably will always be struggling with, and some people (and i have been guilt of this in the past!) use therapy as a bandaid for every bad thing a character goes through when people are just simply more complex than that. so katniss can grow and find love and solidarity and comfort but that doesn’t mean she’s like, Over It or ever will be because who would be honestly!!! katniss notably likes him because he doesn’t offer any hollow assurances like “it will all be fine” or “you are perfectly” safe. he just offers to be a listening ear but doesn’t press that much.

on a much less depressing note i think he is SO funny. doc clearly knows all this and comes to her room just to take naps (because i imagine his workload has increased a Lot) and doesn’t try make her talk because he knows she won’t anyway. and then when katniss goes back to district twelve he SENDS A MESSAGE WITH PEETA like “girl you have GOT to stop screening my calls, i can’t keep lying for you” because i’m pretty sure katniss literally says they let her leave with the stipulation that she had to continue treatment with him lmao. such a small character but he’s so funny to me.

[transmechanicus]

Woke up from my little power outage nap and couldn’t even manage to eat a full box of macked cheese, grad school will fuck you up for life kids, do it at your own risk.

[starakex]

"My name is Enki. A priest of destruction. Did that feed your curiosity?"