#and more about justifying our own actions

[rainbow-sunshine-unicorn]

Bridgerton Season 3 and the dichotomy of understandable vs justifiable

This is going to be a long post and possibly incomprehensible but I've been thinking about the narrative choices of season 3 for way too long to not talk about it.

When a character takes any decisions or does an action, it has two facets- understandable and justifiable. Understandable actions are those where the audience knows why a character is doing what they are doing. Some common ways to establish this sort of knowledge is having flashbacks, by showcasing backstories or through narrative foreshadowing. Justifiable actions are those where the audience is meant to support the actions of a character, they don't merely understand the course of action but agree with it. Of course, actions can be both understandable and justifiable, but they don't always have to be. It's perfectly possible to have characters do things that are completely understandable but not even remotely justifiable.

(It's a bit more difficult to have actions that are justifiable but not understandable, because often justification comes from understanding, but with enough plot maneuvering, it can be done but I'll talk about that some other time)

And that's what I want to talk about. In season 2, there were plenty of characters who did things that were narratively framed as understandable but not justifiable. Anthony in particular is a great example of this. Like when he proposes to Edwina after Daphne confronts him about his feelings for Kate. His conversation with Violet on the in 2x03 has already established his absolute terror for love and why he is so insistent on having a pleasant marriage as opposed to a passionate one. And the flashbacks to Edmund's death have further established how much he suffered and saw his mother suffer. So when his reaction to Daphne driving home the point that he feels something intense for Kate, even if he calls it aggravation, it's something very far from rationality, we can understand why he chooses to propose to Edwina. But it's never framed as a justifiable choice. Whether it's through Kate's "Yes, my lord?" thinking he's coming to talk to her or the events that unfold, it is established that it was not the right course of action.

Another good example of this is Edwina's "half sister" comment to Kate. The long lingering shots of Kate and Anthony, the bracelet scene, the shots of the guests looking confused, all help us understand exactly where Edwina is coming from. She's hurt and lashes out at Kate to hurt her. But, is this ever framed as a justifiable choice? We constantly hear Kate emphasize their sisterhood, add to it her "this shall pass" speech to Anthony, her desire to go to India to physically remove herself from the situation, and it all show us that it was Kate's self-sacrificial nature that led her to her course of action, not because her loyalty towards Edwina was diluted by the lack of a full blood relation. Edwina's comments are never framed as justifiable.

And this brings me to Penelope. Until season 2, her actions were framed as understandable but not justifiable. Her mother and sister's casual cruel comments, Cressida's open meanness towards her, the comments she overhears from Colin, all help us understand exactly why Lady Whistledown has become such an outlet for her. Those shots of her at the periphery of ballrooms help us see why she sees the gossip as a silver lining in her situation. But what happens to Eloise and Penelope's explosive monologue to Eloise all work towards helping us understand that her actions are not exactly justifiable. It's not something the audience should throw unwavering support behind. And that's part of what makes her such a deliciously complex character. She forces us to contend with our own ideas of fairness and loyalty, in an especially unfair society.

However in season 3, the narrative choices seem geared towards framing Penelope's actions as both understandable and justifiable. The shots of Penelope staring as Cressida and Eloise walk away are framed to elicit pity from us. Similarly the shot of Penelope and Eloise at the modiste, with Penelope framed softly compared to the harsher positioning of Eloise is clearly intended for the audience to know that there's a sympathetic character vs a sterner one. And at least in part 1 it's established, narratively and cinematically, that we, as an audience, are supposed to view Eloise's grudge towards Penelope as unreasonable or 'doing too much'.

This is honestly a baffling narrative choice by the writers that downplays the complexity of Penelope as a character. Penelope is not meant to be a straight up victim, that's the whole point of Lady Whistledown. And if Penelope's actions are both understandable and justifiable, so much of the intensity of the reveal is lost, because if there's a "right side" then there's nothing for the audience to contend with. The whole point of Lady Whistledown being morally grey is that it makes the audiences think and agonize over different kinds of reactions to the reveal, whether those are understandable and justifiable or merely understand.

The fun of the reveal in the books is that we can understand Penelope, but we can also understand the disgruntled ton and I understand that the show is narratively quite far from the books, but even then to take out the complex nuance of Penelope and work towards this one dimensional narrative is a very strange decision.

#bridgerton season 3 #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #penelope featherington #edwina sharma #bridgerton season two #bridgerton analysis #long post #sorry this is so long #but I had to organise my thoughts regarding this somewhere

[fairest-lily]

When Yuu asked Malleus in regards to the Thorn Fairy's possible exclusion, he gave an unexpected yet understandable answer, that people's awe of her power turned into fear. And I never thought much of it beyond him simply sharing his thoughts until just now on another one of my re-watchings. I now wonder whether Malleus has thought about his situation over and over again to justify it to himself. I'll briefly speak from experience, but that statement struck me as a conclusion he might have reached on his own while dealing with the discomfort of his pain. I am one of those people that goes through an issue and objectively reflects on it as part of the coping (not excluding the feeling of any emotions, of course); in some cases I genuinely seek to understand why something happened, how I contributed to it, and possibilities I may have ignored, etc. This also aids me in terms of growth and learning from the past. I doubt that Malleus, who is so intelligent and educated amongst his thirst for knowledge, would disregard such an action. He would want to know the whys and the hows, even if they hurt. Though this possibility opens a rather upsetting door; there is a chance that Malleus gives much more thought than we could imagine to his loneliness and exclusion. And now I keep thinking about his embracing of the villain archetype, as the prince of the night, the Lord of Malevolence. Does he really like, or want, to bear those titles? Or is he tricking himself, at least publicly, to make them his shield? Just like Vil chose to be the most evil villain in people's eyes if they were going to call him one anyways. I wonder if Malleus genuinely is amused by people's fear. Frankly? I doubt it. Even when going through rebellious phases during our youth, some embracing the creepier aesthetics and such, we deep down don't like people being uncomfortable. It may be funny, but causing genuine distress isn't pleasant, to the majority at least. If Malleus has to bear self-loathing on top of his grief, I don't know how he has handled himself these past two centuries. It seems he has, momentarily at least, accepted a reality in which there is no place for admiration instead of dread, and is probably counting the days until Yuu turns into one of those that runs away.

#I never gave this much thought #But something just now struck me and I saw the exchange differently #I love that I can still get new things from re-watches #Book 7 is so amazing - I will never stop saying it #twisted wonderland #twst #twst theory #malleus draconia

[thottybrucewayne]

I think what I want to get into with the "Anyone can do harm." thing that I keep beating yall over the head with is that literally anyone, anyone at all can do harm it's not "in your DNA" to be an abuser or written in the stars that you'll be a predator. Whatever image you have of an abuser in your head, drop it and replace it with your favorite person in the world and you'll probably be closer to the truth than you realize. It's easy to address harm when it's coming from someone you already hate. I see it happen all the time. Someone you couldn't stand for no real reason does something heinous then all of a sudden here comes the avalanche of "I always knew they were a fucked up individual." No, you didn't. There is no possible way you could have known, you just already didn't fuck with them before they started doing something you could use to justify your hatred of them. I'm guilty of it too! I'm petty, mean, vindictive, and yes! I'm way quicker to believe something bad about someone I hate versus someone I love because I'm human. Still, y all gotta learn to move past that initial "Well, they were always nice to me!" gut feeling and understand that nobody truly knows anyone and anyone can be capable of anything. Even victims. Even you.

#thotty speaks #thotty rants #I was thinking about that Christine chan post and its like yeah yall really don't know how bad it got for her before she did what she did #It reminded me of that thing on tiktok where people take 'cringy' cosplayers videos (most of whom are literal children) and put racist or #bigoted text over it then reupload it to call them out then the og creator gets a flood of harassment mostly from people who hated them for #the crime of being weird on the internet but now they can use 'oh but they're a bigot!' as an excuse to tear them down until they come out #and say 'hey i didn't say this someone stole my shit' and nobody takes their vids down nor apologizes because they didn't fuck with them #anyway so wash rinse repeat #idk I just wish that people had the same smoke for people they actually like #mostly cause I'm tired of being accused of 'switching up' every time I cut people off or stop fuckin with an artist #like this is what we should be doing!!!! ACG ANYBODY CAN GET IT! #It should be smoke for ANYONE who does harm every your fave people! #otherwise you create this world where taking people to task for the harm they've done is less about the harm #and more about justifying our own actions #anyway keep that same energy across the board that's all I'm saying #cause if it comes out tomorrow that somebody close to me did some fucked up shit I'm out of there period #aint no talkin bout shit and that's on me growing up as a child told that certain grown folks can't be alone with me #but they allowed in my house... #Idk about yall but i'm ending that generational curse with me

[mars-ipan]

you guys ever think about the milgram shock experiments? i think about the milgram shock experiments a lot. they feel kinda relevant right now for some reason. hm

#marzi speaks #marzirants #humans are inclined to follow orders. it is how our brain works #we inherently don’t like starting conflict so we tend to do what we’re told #if we don’t like doing what we’re told to do then we tend to try to come up with a justification for it #in the case of the shock experiments it was ‘i will not be responsible if someone is hurt. it will be the testers’ fault’ #we eventually decide to resist when the cognitive dissonance of commiting the action becomes more than that of disobeying #which is at a different point for each person #some people are better at resisting orders than others. this may be inherent but is (by my hypothesis) more likely to be practiced #some people- in an attempt to justify their actions- almost adopt a persona able to commit crueler crimes #one man mentioned being disgusted with himself in the debrief of the experiment #during the experiment he had become almost sadistic- pressing the button more than was necessary and smiling upon hearing screams of pain #they were fake but he didn’t know that at the time #all this to say. we are all incredibly susceptible to propaganda- especially from those we view as authority figures #be it from a government or people we simply look up to #so. when a government-lead genocide occurs. it is not a good idea to blame every citizen of that government for it #chances are any citizen assisting the government fell for the propaganda. chances are you’ve fallen for some of your own #because even with our desires to justify bad things. a genocide is a lot for someone to justify #so . to assume an entire population is cruel simply because their government is #would be. bad. especially if that population already has some separate negative stereotypes about them #which are inherently insiduous and could be dogwhistled in to a lottt of language #um. hold people accountable for sure #but make sure they’re actually responsible for anything first #and be careful not to fall for propaganda of your own. because it is not something that just ‘the bad guys’ make #mkay. getting off my soapbox now. i have homework to finish and a shower to take

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

#actually autistic #chuck tingle #tingleverse #buckaroo lifestyle

[noxtivagus]

thinking of. hermes n etheirys n there rlly is just sm to take in !!!!

#🌙.rambles #[ ffxiv. ] #one big point in endwalker was. the importance n the meaning of. overcoming suffering. even if our end is assured. #that's one thing venat (i love her so much btw) knew that hermes cldn't quite come to terms with in a way? #in hermes' case though. take note of how he probably felt really alone in his society. in the og etheirys #one big thing in endwalker was how. the wol n. everyone. was able to overcome it eventually. able to live bcs #they weren't alone. we can't do it alone. n i really love that lesson in ffxiv #etheirys rlly was fucked up 😭 i hate how hermes had to internalize all those stuff at the end. it's very personal to me . #i think much of those crises wld've been averted in some way if hermes was actually listened to. #still. doesn't justify his actions in the end but i really understand him. #a perfect society doesn't exist. ffxiv rlly has a lot on how 'perfection' isn't rlly so good #n then.. yeah in overcoming suffering do we learn to value life even more #BUT! big thing here is it's really hard alone !!!! the wol doesn't save worlds on their own ! #that said though i personally find it amusing how i really end up liking a lot of characters that r linked to destroying worlds in some way #emet-selch with the first. hermes w etheirys. n then other charas like sephiroth ffvii & lucilius gbf #HFDLAJFSKD 😭 speaking of emet i cld ramble about him for ages as well #i really love how. yk each of the charas in ffxiv. you can really see their character. their morality n beliefs n values n who they are #n there's a lot to take in as well.. there's zenos too who's so incredibly interesting as well as fandaniel #these four in ffxiv i've specifically mentioned r all antags i suppose. but #out of the three i think fandaniel's the worst in morality bcs haha he rlly wants to destroy the world n all #I CLD WRITE MORE BUT NOW NOW! zenos is.. he just does what he wants w his own. yk. he seeks thrill he seeks. the yeah #a lot of it relates w the wol. n sm of it comes from how he was raised. he's rather sad. i'll write more another time #hermes out of them all is the most 'good' at heart i'd say buut. rlly just like all of them his circumstances rlly made him who he is #all of them rlly w each their own circumstances n i'm not big-brained enough to write them all well enough rn BUT IT'S IN MY HEAD #emet-selch w the past he loved. imperfection of the sundered world rlly. hurt him #but endwalker rlly put a new light to that 'perfect' world. it really wasn't perfect as we cld see w what happened to hermes #there's just so much to write abt it. i appreciate it so much. i love stories like this so much #ffxiv has some dystopian stuff (n i grew up w a lot of dystopian books ahaha) n nihilism stuff (i love philosophy so much) #IDK MY BRAIN IS SO MUSH RN there's smth i have to do rq tho for school so bye i'll write another time #either when my mind is clearer or i can't think of anything else but ffxiv for several hours again 😭🫶🏼

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A decorative orange ceramic plate with a pyramid of green herbs and sesame seeds, topped with deep red sumac and more sesame seeds. End ID]

زعتر فلسطيني / Za'tar falastinia (Palestinian spice blend)

Za'tar (زَعْتَر; also transliterated "za'atar," "zaatar" and "zatar") is the name of a family of culinary herbs; it is also the name of a group of spice blends made by mixing these herbs with varying amounts of olive oil, sumac, salt, roasted sesame seeds, and other spices. Palestinian versions of za'tar often include caraway, aniseed, and roasted wheat alongside generous portions of sumac and sesame seeds. The resulting blend is bold, zesty, and aromatic, with a hint of floral sourness from the sumac, and notes of licorice and anise.

Za'tar is considered by Palestinians to have particular national, political, and personal importance, and exists as a symbol of both Israeli oppression and Palestinian home-making and resistance. Its major components, olive oil and wild thyme, are targeted by the settler state in large part due to their importance to ecology, identity, and trade in Palestine—settlers burn and raze Palestinian farmers' olive trees by the thousands each year. A 1977 Israeli law forbade the harvesting of wild herbs within its claimed borders, with violators of the law risking fines and confiscation, injury, and even death from shootings or land mines; in 2006, za'tar was further restricted, such that even its possession in the West Bank was met with confiscation and fines.

Despite the blanket ban on harvesting wild herbs (none of which are endangered), Arabs are the only ones to be charged and fined for the crime. Samir Naamnih calls the ban an attempt to "starve us out," given that foraging is a major source of food for many Palestinians, and that picking and selling herbs is often the sole form of income for impoverished families. Meanwhile, Israeli farmers have domesticated and farmed za'tar on expropriated Palestinian land, selling it (both the herb and the spice mixture) back to Palestinians, and later marketing it abroad as an "Israeli" blend; they thus profit from the ban on wild harvesting of the herb. This farming model, as well as the double standard regarding harvesting, refer back to an idea that Arabs are a primitive people unfit to own the land, because they did not cultivate or develop it as the settlers did (i.e., did not attempt to recreate a European landscape or European models of agriculture); colonizing and settling the land are cast as justified, and even righteous.

The importance of the ban on foraging goes beyond the economic. Raya Ziada, founder of an acroecology nonprofit based in Ramallah, noted in 2019 that "taking away access to [wild herbs] doesn't just debilitate our economy and compromise what we eat. It's symbolic." Za'tar serves variously as a symbol of Palestinians' connection to the land and to nature; of Israeli colonial dispossession and theft; of the Palestinian home ("It’s a sign of a Palestinian home that has za’tar in it"); and of resistance to the colonial regime, as many Palestinians have continued to forage herbs such as za'tar and akkoub in the decades since the 1977 ban. Resistance to oppression will continue as long as there is oppression.

Palestine Action has called for bail fund donations to aid in their storming, occupying, shutting down, and dismantling of factories and offices owned by Israeli arms manufacturer Elbit Systems. Also contact your representatives in the USA, UK, and Canada.

Ingredients:

Za'tar (Origanum syriacum), 250g once dried (about 4 cups packed)

250g (1 2/3 cup) sesame seeds

170g (3/4 cup) Levantine sumac berries, or ground sumac (Rhus coriaria)

100g (1/2 cup) wheat berries (optional)

2 Tbsp olive oil

1 Tbsp aniseed (optional)

1/2 Tbsp caraway seeds (optional)

Levantine wild thyme (also known as Bible hyssop, Syrian oregano, and Lebanese oregano) may be purchased dried online. You may also be able to find some dried at a halal grocery store, where it will be labelled "زعتر" (za'tar) and "thym," "thyme," or "oregano." Check to make sure that what you're buying is just the herb and not the prepared mixture, which is also called "زعتر." Also ensure that what you're buying is not a product of Israel.

If you don't have access to Levantine thyme, Greek or Turkish oregano are good substitutes.

Wheat berries are the wheat kernel that is ground to produce flour. They may be available sold as "wheat berries" at a speciality health foods store. They may be omitted, or replaced with pre-ground whole wheat flour.

Instructions:

1. Harvest wild thyme and remove the stems from the leaves. Wash the leaves in a large bowl of water and pat dry; leave in a single layer in the sun for four days or so, until brittle. Skip this step if using pre-dried herbs.

2. Crumble leaves by rubbing them between the palms of your hands until they are very fine. Pass through a sieve or flour sifter into a large bowl, re-crumbling any leaves that are too coarse to get through.

Crumbling between the hands is an older method. You may also use a blender or food processor to grind the leaves.

3. Mix the sifted thyme with a drizzle of olive oil and work it between your hands until incorporated.

4. Briefly toast sumac berries, caraway seeds, and aniseed in a dry skillet over medium heat, then grind them to a fine powder in a mortar and pestle or a spice mill.

5. Toast sesame seeds in a dry skillet over medium heat, stirring constantly, until deeply golden brown.

6. (Optional) In a dry skillet on medium-low, toast wheat berries, stirring constantly, until they are deeply golden brown. Grind to a fine powder in a spice mill. If using ground flour, toast on low, stirring constantly, until browned.

Some people in the Levant bring their wheat to a local mill to be ground after toasting, as it produces a finer and more consistent texture.

7. Mix all ingredients together and work between your hands to incorporate.

Store za'tar in an airtight jar at room temperature. Mix with olive oil and use as a dipping sauce with bread.

#spice blends #Palestinian #Levantine #za’tar

[eelhound]

"I think Homer outwits most writers who have written on the War [fantasy archetype], by not taking sides.

The Trojan war is not and you cannot make it be the War of Good vs. Evil. It’s just a war, a wasteful, useless, needless, stupid, protracted, cruel mess full of individual acts of courage, cowardice, nobility, betrayal, limb-hacking-off, and disembowelment. Homer was a Greek and might have been partial to the Greek side, but he had a sense of justice or balance that seems characteristically Greek — maybe his people learned a good deal of it from him? His impartiality is far from dispassionate; the story is a torrent of passionate actions, generous, despicable, magnificent, trivial. But it is unprejudiced. It isn’t Satan vs. Angels. It isn’t Holy Warriors vs. Infidels. It isn’t hobbits vs. orcs. It’s just people vs. people.

Of course you can take sides, and almost everybody does. I try not to, but it’s no use; I just like the Trojans better than the Greeks. But Homer truly doesn’t take sides, and so he permits the story to be tragic. By tragedy, mind and soul are grieved, enlarged, and exalted.

Whether war itself can rise to tragedy, can enlarge and exalt the soul, I leave to those who have been more immediately part of a war than I have. I think some believe that it can, and might say that the opportunity for heroism and tragedy justifies war. I don’t know; all I know is what a poem about a war can do. In any case, war is something human beings do and show no signs of stopping doing, and so it may be less important to condemn it or to justify it than to be able to perceive it as tragic.

But once you take sides, you have lost that ability.

Is it our dominant religion that makes us want war to be between the good guys and the bad guys?

In the War of Good vs. Evil there can be divine or supernal justice but not human tragedy. It is by definition, technically, comic (as in The Divine Comedy): the good guys win. It has a happy ending. If the bad guys beat the good guys, unhappy ending, that’s mere reversal, flip side of the same coin. The author is not impartial. Dystopia is not tragedy.

Milton, a Christian, had to take sides, and couldn’t avoid comedy. He could approach tragedy only by making Evil, in the person of Lucifer, grand, heroic, and even sympathetic — which is faking it. He faked it very well.

Maybe it’s not only Christian habits of thought but the difficulty we all have in growing up that makes us insist justice must favor the good.

After all, 'Let the best man win' doesn’t mean the good man will win. It means, 'This will be a fair fight, no prejudice, no interference — so the best fighter will win it.' If the treacherous bully fairly defeats the nice guy, the treacherous bully is declared champion. This is justice. But it’s the kind of justice that children can’t bear. They rage against it. It’s not fair!

But if children never learn to bear it, they can’t go on to learn that a victory or a defeat in battle, or in any competition other than a purely moral one (whatever that might be), has nothing to do with who is morally better.

Might does not make right — right?

Therefore right does not make might. Right?

But we want it to. 'My strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure.'

If we insist that in the real world the ultimate victor must be the good guy, we’ve sacrificed right to might. (That’s what History does after most wars, when it applauds the victors for their superior virtue as well as their superior firepower.) If we falsify the terms of the competition, handicapping it, so that the good guys may lose the battle but always win the war, we’ve left the real world, we’re in fantasy land — wishful thinking country.

Homer didn’t do wishful thinking.

Homer’s Achilles is a disobedient officer, a sulky, self-pitying teenager who gets his nose out of joint and won’t fight for his own side. A sign that Achilles might grow up someday, if given time, is his love for his friend Patroclus. But his big snit is over a girl he was given to rape but has to give back to his superior officer, which to me rather dims the love story. To me Achilles is not a good guy. But he is a good warrior, a great fighter — even better than the Trojan prime warrior, Hector. Hector is a good guy on any terms — kind husband, kind father, responsible on all counts — a mensch. But right does not make might. Achilles kills him.

The famous Helen plays a quite small part in The Iliad. Because I know that she’ll come through the whole war with not a hair in her blond blow-dry out of place, I see her as opportunistic, immoral, emotionally about as deep as a cookie sheet. But if I believed that the good guys win, that the reward goes to the virtuous, I’d have to see her as an innocent beauty wronged by Fate and saved by the Greeks.

And people do see her that way. Homer lets us each make our own Helen; and so she is immortal.

I don’t know if such nobility of mind (in the sense of the impartial 'noble' gases) is possible to a modern writer of fantasy. Since we have worked so hard to separate History from Fiction, our fantasies are dire warnings, or mere nightmares, or else they are wish fulfillments."

- Ursula K. Le Guin, from No Time to Spare, 2013.

#ursula k. le guin #homer #quote #quotations #the iliad #trojan war #storytelling #fantasy #fiction writing #war #conflict #tragedy #john milton #paradise lost #greek mythology

[ichorai]

thread ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; “they’re all just copying us, you know,” he said, sounding almost bitter. 

“of course they are,” you replied, taking a drawn-out sip from your cup. “we showed them there’s no sharks in the water. obviously they’re going to jump in.”

words ; 6.6k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, action

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury/death/drug misuse, coryo's paranoia, he isn't exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Coriolanus came late to class. He rushed in, uniform only slightly askew, and hair messier than usual. You moved your bag aside so he could take a seat beside you. With a nod, he slipped into the row and began laying out his books. 

You wondered how Tigris reacted once he got back home. Probably worried sick for her cousin and her friend. Your father, of course, was furious with you once he learned about your tryst with Coriolanus in the Capitol Zoo, but there was little he could do when he was off working in the districts. During dinner with your mother, Lucretius Flickerman, and his wife, the tributes and the games were practically all the three could talk about. Lucky was going to be the first ever host, apparently.

How fun.

To neither of your surprise, Highbottom eyed the two of you with disdain. When you had strode into the hall, he remained silent. Coriolanus’ arrival seemed to tip him right over the edge.

“Both of your little excursions were in violation of about five different academy rules,” he grumbled. “Chiefly amongst them—endangering a Capitol student. Yourselves.”

“There were peacekeepers crawling all over the place,” Coriolanus retorted. 

The dean’s nose twitched angrily. Then, he fixed you with a harsh look over his spectacles, and drawled out your name. “Since you are the academy’s brightest, and your records have been… untarnished until now, I will let you off with a warning.” There was a pause, before the dean continued. “Mr. Snow, I’m moving for the gamemakers to disqualify you as mentor, effective immediately.”

“What?” the two of you exclaimed at once.

“You said we had to get them to perform, not stay away!” Coriolanus just about spat.

“I’ll add insubordination, as well,” Highbottom replied, tone venomous.

Raising your hand and ignoring the dean’s irritated exhale, you haughtily said, “It was me who went into the tribute’s truck. Coriolanus only followed. We didn’t know that we’d end up in a zoo enclosure.”

Arachne tittered with condescending laughter. “Yeah, and then you held hands with them. Made it seem like we’re the same as those animals.”

From your other side, Sejanus was quick to defend the two of you. “Coriolanus and Y/N didn’t show those people anything they didn’t already know.”

Stiffening, Coryo scowled and said, “I don’t need your help, Sejanus.”

He ignored him and continued on, “That the tributes are human beings, just like us. That’s why nobody wants to watch the games—because people know, deep down, that winning a war ten years ago doesn’t justify starving people’s children, taking away their freedoms, their rights!”

“Dean Highbottom,” you called, not bothering to raise your hand this time. “How is it fair that Coriolanus gets disqualified while I’m not? We did what you told us to do! We were just trying to get to know our tributes.”

“Would you like to be disqualified as well? I can surely arrange for that to happen,” he deadpanned. “But poor little Wovey would be left all on her own.”

Nausea coiled within your abdomen. You drew yourself up to your full height. “Well, that would be entirely unnecessary—” 

Before you could finish your sentence, the doors to the lecture theater swung open once more, and Dr. Volumnia Gaul crept in, footsteps completely silent. How she managed that, you weren’t at all sure.

With everyone’s eyes on her, she fixed her stare on the two of you. Her hair was wrangled back into a high up-do, tall and grey on her head. 

“Quite a show you two put on. You’re good players,” she said, voice booming throughout the theater. “The hunger games needs good players. Maybe one day you’ll be gamemakers, like me.”

The thought sent chills up your spine. Coriolanus kept his expression stoic.

“If the games continue at all,” said Highbottom.

Singular blue eye flashing, Dr. Gaul grinned in an unnerving manner. “Oh, they’ll continue. With performances like young Snow and L/N in that zoo? The people would never stop wanting for more.” She drew closer to the rows of seats, gloved hand trailing over a few of the desks. “I came here to ask the star mentors a question… what are the hunger games for?”

You and Coriolanus exchanged a quick glance.

“They’re to punish the districts for their uprising,” he said, as if it were obvious. “To commemorate the end of the war.”

Volumnia’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, in a similar fashion to a snake.

“And what would you say, Y/N?”

It was hard to maintain eye contact with her, especially because it felt like she could peer into your very soul and dissect you apart from inside out—but you managed. With your father being such an avid supporter of the hunger games, you wondered if your answer would be what she was looking for. “I don’t agree with the games. But I know it’s because—fear is power. Keep the districts afraid for themselves, for their children, and you’ll always have the upper hand.”

She smiled, wide and eerie. “You’re right. Fear is power. But punishment and fear can take many forms. They can come from bomb droppings, the cancelling of food shipments, stage executions. The question is, why games?”

Defensive, Sejanus spoke up, “Shouldn’t we be asking whether or not it’s right in the first place?”

“You have a problem with my games?” she asked, unimpressed.

“Some of those kids were two years old when the war ended! The oldest of them were only eight!” he exclaimed. “The Capitol is supposed to be everyone’s government now. It is supposed to protect all of us. I don’t see how making children fight each other to the death is protecting anyone.”

With a sneer, Dr. Gaul told him, “That sort of sympathy might be interfering with your mentoring assignment, Mr. Plinth.”

Finally, Highbottom said to his colleague, “Perhaps Capitol students are ill-suited to be mentoring tributes. Perhaps the games’ time has passed.”

Yes, you thought. It’s time to let it go.

To your surprise, Coriolanus abruptly stood up from his seat. “Dean Highbottom is wrong,” he asserted. “My classmates, too. Maybe Sejanus is onto something here. We should be viewing those tributes as human beings. You saw those kids at the zoo. They just wanted to get to know Lucy Gray. If we need people to watch, we should let them get closer to the tributes before the games. Make the stakes personal.”

“Who would watch the games if they care what happens to the tributes?” Dr. Gaul asked, as if the notion of caring about district folk was ludicrous.

“Everyone,” replied Coriolanus. “Especially if they thought the tribute they cared about had a chance of winning. People need someone to root for and someone to root against! And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we can even have them place bets.” 

You felt sick as you looked up at Coriolanus with a mildly disturbed expression. If he noticed, he didn’t give you any indication.

“I know Lucy Gray may not win in the arena,” he continued. “But if you give her a chance—I would bet the Plinth prize that she could win people’s attention.”

Dr. Gaul was effectively intrigued.

“I would like you to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight, Mr. Snow,” she said. 

Clemensia, strong-headed as ever, stood up and said that she should be working with Coriolanus, as his class partner.

With an amused snicker, Volumnia bowed her head and made her way back to the door. “It’ll be an interesting test,” she ominously said before turning on her heel and exiting, her dark cloak billowing out behind her.

During lunch, you sat down across from Coriolanus in the cafeteria, noticing that he had three sandwiches stacked on his plate, along with half a dozen cookies on another. It was a rare thing, seeing him with so much food. Usually he opted for just starving himself to save some money, despite your urges to get him to eat.

“Hungry?” you asked with an arched brow, but he shook his head.

“It’s for Lucy Gray,” he replied, staring down at the food. Then, he pulled out a red handkerchief and started wrapping the food up. “I’m going back.”

With a soft sigh, you started digging into your own lunch. “Hopefully not inside this time.”

He spared you half a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you coming? Everyone else is. I heard Arachne tell Felix she’s going to use food to get her tribute to do tricks for her.”

With a wrinkle of your nose, you glanced over at her several tables down. “Sounds like something she’d say.” You took a bite of your food and chewed thoughtfully.

“They’re all just copying us, you know,” he said, sounding almost bitter. 

“Of course they are,” you replied, taking a drawn-out sip from your cup. “We showed them there’s no sharks in the water. Obviously they’re going to jump in.”

He tied the handkerchief together so the sandwiches and cookies would stay put. “They’re all sheep. No original thought whatsoever.”

There it was again, your wind-chime laugh. Coriolanus smiled down at his plate, now empty save for a few bread crumbs. 

“It’s not that big of a deal, Coryo. Besides, I’m glad most of the class is going. The tributes must be starving in there,” you told him. “I’ll come and bring some food for Wovey.”

A voice from your right jutted into your conversation, Sejanus’ angry face coming into view as he slammed down his lunch tray in the empty spot beside you. “You guys going to fatten up your tributes so you can finally start taking bets?” he just about snarled.

“Do you think they’ll give those kids a scrap if we don’t give them a reason to do it?” Coriolanus responded defensively, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “How do you think your tribute will have a chance if he can’t eat?”

“We can’t send them back to their homes,” you told Sejanus in a juxtaposingly calm tone. “The best we can do for them now is help them out here.”

The curly-haired man slumped forward, his shoulder stooping like an old wildflower. “He was my classmate,” he muttered. “Back in two.”

Though you gave Sejanus a sympathetic look, Coryo regarded Sejanus as if he was confused. He wondered why Sejanus even bothered to care this much when he was no longer a part of the districts.

“It’s not your fault that—” Coriolanus began, but was swiftly interrupted.

“Oh, yeah, I’m so blameless I’m choking on it!” he gritted out. Then, he let out a shaky breath, trying to steel himself. “My father bought him for me, you know. At the reaping. Just so he could show me that I could never go back to two.”

A frown marred your features. “He bribed Highbottom?”

“Something like that,” Sejanus told you, using the prongs of his fork to poke and prod at his food. “Morphling costs a pretty penny.”

Silence stretched over the three of you for a few seconds. Coriolanus looked annoyed, but Sejanus didn’t seem to notice. 

“Being in the Capitol is going to kill me,” he sighed.

This made Coryo scowl. “So do something about it.”

Sejanus’ dark eyes flitted over to the bundle of food in Coriolanus’ hands. “You’re quite the rebel.”

Coriolanus retorted, “Oh, yeah. I’m bad news.”

When he said that, he’d expected you to laugh again, but you kept quiet, staring down at your now-unappetizing lunch.

There was a considerably larger crowd around the enclosure that evening. You had a small basket clutched in one hand, consisting of juice boxes (still grape, since you now knew it was a safe option), soft bread rolls, and wrapped leftovers from your dinner with Lucky. You hoped Wovey wasn’t allergic to anything—you’d forgotten to ask in the heat of it all.

Coriolanus still only had the few sandwiches he saved from lunch, but you assured him that you were more than happy to share with Lucy Gray if need be. 

She looked much more haggard tonight, most of her makeup smeared off, her lips chapped and bleeding at the center from what you assumed was anxious biting, and her hair was more unruly. Though her eyes still held the same fire, the same passion, lighting up when she noticed the two of you approaching. She asked if the food was for them with slight surprise—you often forget that they hadn’t much to eat in the districts, anyway—and took what was offered, before handing off a good portion of it to her district partner, Jessup. The larger man declined the food at first, claiming he wasn’t hungry, but eventually caved and took the sandwiches. 

When he turned to walk off, Coriolanus asked about the nasty wound on his neck. It was just behind his ear and oozing with blood and pus. A bat bite on the train, Lucy Gray told the two of you, looking awfully guilty on behalf of her friend. 

Crooning from a little way’s away drew your attention to Arachne and her tribute. She was dangling a cold bottle of water just inches from the tribute’s reach, urging her to beg.

Lucy Gray’s brows cinched. “One thing I learned in twelve is that hunger is a weapon. Your friend over there sure knows it.”

The two of you scoffed at the same time.

“She is not my friend,” Coriolanus told her. “She is poison with perfect teeth.”

“How such a vile tongue hides behind those pearly whites, I wouldn’t ever know,” you remarked, earning you a snicker from Coriolanus. Finally, you peered around for Wovey, eager to finally get her something to eat. However, curse your damned softening heart, your eyes grew gentle upon seeing her curled up by the very same tree stump, head resting on Bobbin’s shoulder, fast asleep. 

Lucy Gray casted a glimpse over her shoulder to see what you were looking at. 

“Could you give this to her?” you asked, slotting the small basket between the enclosure’s metal bars. “When she wakes up, that is. She must be famished. Feel free to take anything in there, but just… leave some for her.”

The girl nodded, taking the basket from you and handing it over to Jessup, who cradled it as if it were more precious than gold. You watched him carefully—not because you were worried he was going to keep all the food to himself, but because you were curious as to why he hadn’t reached in to take anything for himself yet, even after several minutes passed by. 

Coriolanus leaned forward, wrapping a hand around one of the bars as he lowered his voice. “Are you going to share everything with Jessup?”

Lucy Gray’s expression faltered. “Why? You think I oughta build up my strength to strangle him in the arena? Not exactly my forte.”

“I might have a chance to help you,” he told her, watching her keenly. “To make some suggestions to the gamemakers. I might even be able to get the audience to send you gifts in the arena. Food, and water, to keep you going. You just have to try singing again.”

Firmly, Lucy Gray said, “I don’t sing when I’m told, I sing when I have something to say.”

“And you have nothing to say?” you asked her, head tilting. “The whole world is watching, Lucy Gray. Now’s your chance.”

A myriad of emotions crossed over her face. “It doesn’t matter much now, does it? I’ve seen the arena—there’s nowhere to hide. What’s the point?” Her gaze traveled from you to Coriolanus. “The guards say you get money if you get more people to watch and you say you want to help me. Which is it?”

“Both?” he offered. 

It didn’t satisfy her, but it was enough, for now. 

Then, she grabbed a sandwich from the red handkerchief and took a large bite, a muffled noise of appreciation falling from her lips. 

“Bread’s soft,” she said around a mouthful. “Softer than in twelve.”

Then, she offered a cookie to Coriolanus. He began to protest, but she insisted he take it.

“I saw you staring,” she said. “I always thought there was plenty of food in the Capitol.”

Coriolanus laughed, a coarse and unrefined sound. “One time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach.” 

A match of pity struck within the confines of your chest, but you remained quiet. Coriolanus told you stories of his times during the war often—usually after the two of you laid together, sweaty and naked, bearing your souls to one another. Pillow talk made him quite emotional, you found.

“And how was it?” Lucy Gray queried, eyes round.

Coriolanus took a bite of the cookie, humming in though. Then, he shrugged. “Pasty,” he said.

Lucy Gray laughed. She looked back to you, appreciative. “Thank you, for the food. I’m sure the little one’s going to be happy.” Your eyes flickered back to Wovey. She stirred a bit on Bobbin’s shoulder, but remained asleep. “She’s so sweet. So young. Something about her reminds me of my cousin, Maude Ivory. I can’t stand to think of them without me like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Coriolanus whispered.

You nodded in agreement. “They’re waiting for you, I’m sure. You’ll see them again.”

Lucy Gray smiled sadly. “I won’t hold you to that.” Then, after she took another bite, she blew out a gentle sigh. “You two seem like… genuine folk. It sure would’ve been nice to meet you under different circumstances.”

Coriolanus leaned his head against the enclosure’s bars. “One of your shows, maybe.”

Somehow, her smile grew impossibly wider, but her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I would’ve liked that.” With a light sniffle, she asked the two of you, “You two keen on dancing?”

You thought back to all the dance lessons you were forced to take as a young child. It was never your strong suit. “Not really, no. Coriolanus is much better than I am.” 

“Not your fancy Capitol dancing,” she told you, waving a hand in the air. “Dancing like you’re free. Dancing with no rules. Just the music, to guide you.”

Both you and Coriolanus exchanged glances. “Can’t say I’ve tried,” you replied. “But it sounds fun.”

Lucy Gray nodded, showing more enthusiasm than you’d ever seen in her before. “You’d have the time of your life. If you ever visit… I’d love for you to come. Both of you—we’d have a drink. Share a dance or two. We’d have all the time in the world. People always say our music shows are the best places for romantic dates. It’d be perfect for you two.”

It was a pleasant fantasy to entertain. But that’s all it was—a fantasy. When you looked at Coriolanus, his expression was simultaneously strained and distant, as if he were far away, thinking of other things. You reached out to place your hand on his shoulder.

But before you could, screams erupted from around the enclosure, followed closely by shattering glass. You whipped your head away from Lucy Gray, seeing Arachne’s tribute jabbing the broken glass bottle straight into her jugular. Coriolanus yelled something—you weren’t entirely sure what, but he jumped up to grab Arachne, applying pressure to the wound.

It wasn’t enough. 

Blood, dark and viscous and filling the air with the smell of copper, began to pool around her neck, down her shoulders, filling the crevices of her collarbones. She was blubbering something, gargling through blood, but you couldn’t quite hear with the loud static buzzing in your ears. 

You glanced to the side, catching sight of peacekeepers lining up their guns to shoot. You rushed forward to get to Coriolanus, yanking him down just as several shots rang out. He was whimpering, telling Arachne to hold on for him, but when you frantically reached down to feel for her pale wrist’s pulse—it wasn’t there.

Arachne was dead. 

You clambered off of Coriolanus, away from the dead girl, backing away. You only barely registered Sejanus calling out your name in concern, but you didn’t pay him any mind. Instead, you turned your eyes to the tributes, all ducking and cowering behind trees and tires. To your relief, Wovey was now awake, eyes wide as she crouched behind the tree stump with Bobbin.

The relief was short-lived, however, because peacekeepers began urging everybody away from the enclosure. You reached out for Coriolanus, taking his arm. He was shaking, eyes as large as saucers and visibly distraught. 

The two of you walked to his estate in tense silence.

Once there, Grandma’am and Tigris fawned over the two of you, though in far different ways. Grandma’am dove into a lecture about rebels and how lucky the two of you were that your tributes hadn’t done the very same. Tigris wrapped a warm shawl over you and a patched blanket over her cousin, telling Grandma’am that Lucy Gray and Wovey weren’t rebels, just innocent girls. 

“Trust me, that one hasn’t been a girl in a long time,” Grandma’am bitterly retorted. “Outside this Capitol, they’re savages, however they may smile. She will use you, Coriolanus. You must use her or you’ll end up dead in the trees, like your father.”

Coriolanus stiffened. 

An hour later, he tugged you into his room and kissed you hard and desperate, as if he wanted to distract himself from his own thoughts. You were the one to pull away, even if everything inside you was screaming to stay. You almost caved, almost, when his head dipped forward in an attempt to capture your lips again, but you placed the tips of your fingers over his mouth with a soft, sympathetic smile. You hugged him tight until he stopped trembling, and reluctantly drew yourself away from him. After embracing Tigris goodnight, you walked home alone with your thoughts, wondering if the games were going to continue in lieu of the evening’s events.

There was an assembly held at the academy for Arachne’s death, followed promptly by a proper funeral. Though, it didn’t quite feel proper with all the cameras and reporters hovering around. You wondered if people were expecting to see you cry. You were incredibly shaken, sure, but were you sad?

It’d be a lie if you said yes.

They made sure to zoom in on you and Coriolanus when you kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his hand just before he was appointed to go on stage and sing the national anthem. Why he was the one to do so, the two of you had no idea. It’s not like Arachne was friends with him, despite what the reporters wanted to think. It was a ridiculous waste of breath, he thought, singing for a girl he barely knew.

After Coriolanus’ performance, President Ravinstill gave a rather monotonous speech about courage and bravery. How Arachne was going to be sorely missed. Right—of course she was.

And the very next day, life moved on. As if Arachne’s death had never happened.

Soon after, they had all the mentors and tributes gathered into one of the academy halls— with the tributes shackled to tables, of course. It wasn’t like there was anywhere for them to run. You’d seen all the peacekeepers lining the hallways outside.

“In spite of yesterday’s tragic events,” Highbottom said, not a shred of sincerity to be found in his tone, “our President has decided that the games must go on. Show everyone that the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror. To which end Dr. Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a special, televised presentation of each tribute to our audience so they could… get to know them.”

A glorified show-and-tell, you dryly thought. How wonderful.

You and Coriolanus looked at each other for a brief moment—he’d ask Lucy Gray to sing again, you were certain. Then, you turned back forward, where Wovey was fiddling with her thumbs, sniffling a few times.

“You’ll have an hour to discuss strategy,” said the dean, before whisking himself off to the shadows of the room to down another vial of morphling.

You sat down in front of your tribute, trying your best to offer her a warm smile.

“Did you like the food I brought? Was it okay?” you whispered, making sure to lower your voice.

A nod, a scuffle of feet. Her bottom lip trembled.

Gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you moved on to the pressing matter at hand. “Okay, Wovey. I need… I need to know what you’re good at. Are you a fast runner?” 

She thought for a moment, but then shook her head.

“I know you can climb?”

She let out a shaky sigh. “I used to climb in my mama’s factory all the time. Trees, too.”

“Good. That’s good,” you murmured, pulling out a notepad so you could jot some things down. “Are you good at hiding? Staying still?”

“I think so,” she said, looking awfully uncomfortable. “Will I go back home if I win?”

A sharp pang hit you square in the chest. You tore your gaze away from your notes on the paper to look at her. 

“Yes,” you hesitantly replied. “They’ll take you home.”

This seemed to satisfy her for the time being. Gave her hope that you perhaps shouldn’t have instilled.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “So—for your televised presentation. We need to win the audience over so they send in donations—I’d be able to send you things. What do you want to do?”

After quite a bit of back and forth, you managed to get Wovey to agree to talk about her family on stage. How much she missed them. It wasn’t much, but perhaps the youngest tribute sympathy card would push the odds in your favor.

Halfway through the hour, however, Coriolanus and Clemensia were called away by Highbottom—most likely to discuss the proposal Coryo had written up once you left the estate. You made a mental note to ask him how it goes once you saw him again. You felt bad, seeing Lucy Gray sitting all alone, bound hands lightly rapping against the table’s wood.

By the stroke of four in the afternoon, they gathered all the mentors and tributes in front of the arena. Coriolanus came bounding up to the group just seconds away from the gates opening, appearing breathless and mildly frazzled. 

“You okay? Where’s Clemmie?” you asked, resting a hand on his elbow, brows kinking with confusion.

“She’s… not going to make it.” He winced, appearing distinctly torn. “I’ll tell you later.”

There was a brief silence where you scrutinized him, eyes wide. Something bad happened when he was with Dr. Gaul, and you weren’t too keen on finding out.

You walked alongside Coriolanus into the arena, with your two tributes in front of you. Lucy Gray was saying something comforting to Wovey in that sweet voice of hers, and for that you were grateful. The last thing you needed was Wovey to break down in an anxious mess. 

The arena itself was spacious but incredibly rundown, crumbling under the weight of its neglected upkeep. The glass roof was stained and dusty, rusty slants creaking as they parted to filter sunlight into the dome.

“Welcome to the arena of the 10th annual hunger games,” a distorted voice echoed through the arena’s shoddy speaker system. “Tributes, mentors, you have fifteen minutes to survey the space and discuss strategy.”

With one final squeeze on Coriolanus’ shoulder, you parted ways with him, stepping beside Wovey to urge her into a lap around the arena. Staggered rows of dusty seats lined the edges high above the ground—Wovey was a good climber, wasn’t she? 

You tried your best to give her advice. “Hiding in the seats is your best option. Climbing over the rows whenever someone comes to attack you should buy you time. You’re small, too—I think you’d be able to crawl beneath the seats to get away. As for weapons… maybe grab something small from the center. A knife or a dagger. But only if you have time, and only if you know you can make it. If not, just make a break for the seats, as fast as you can. Got that, sweetheart?”

Wovey stayed silent. But she nodded. Nodded and nodded until you worried her head was going to pop right off. 

You bent down at the waist slightly so that you were eye-level with her. “I’ll be watching you the whole time. I’m there if you need m—”

Sudden explosions rang out about the arena. Plumes of dust flew everywhere, blinding you almost instantaneously. With your eyes squeezed shut, you felt the ground shake and split and rumble until another closer explosion flung you a good few feet off the ground. You landed on your side with a strangled scream, though the pain only registered a few seconds later. Cracking your aching eyes open and squinting through the haze of dust, you caught sight of shattered glass thundering around you like crystalized rain, nicking your skin with sharp pin pricks. 

Your right side buzzed with warmth. Something damp. You dazedly looked down.

Oh.

It seemed you’d landed right on a broken metal pipe, sticking right out of your abdomen. Blood was pooling down your academy uniform, soaking the fabric a far more sinister shade of red. You choked out something akin to a dry sob, before screaming out for help. You heard dozens of similar cries echo back to you.

With a grunt, you pushed yourself up, 

“CORYO?!” you screamed as loud as you could. Faintly, you could hear his strained voice echo your name back—somewhere across the arena, you’d wager. 

The pain was starting to grow worse. Searing, almost, as if you were being laid over an open fire. You staggered through the rubble, pressing a hand to your side in a terrible attempt to staunch the bleeding, careful not to jostle the pipe. It was probably the only thing keeping you from bleeding out right then and there.

As you kept moving, you caught sight of a large, gaping hole at the opposite end of the arena. There were tributes running out. Peacekeepers shooting them. The explosions had been so loud that your ears were ringing with terrible white noise—you couldn’t even hear the sound of the rifles blasting.

You glanced around wildly. 

You spotted the small little girl near the edge of the arena. Running with Dill, you realized, mind still lagging a second too late from shock. Another explosion rattled through the arena—this time, crumbling the roof away completely.

With a mangled noise, you began limping as quickly as you could.

Another call of your name, echoing and rattling about your skull, and Coriolanus materialized right beside you out of seemingly nowhere. There were two of him, you realized. He appeared fuzzy. 

You reached out for him, but he suddenly pulled you forward, yelling something. Something you couldn’t hear. A flash of rainbow by his left, and you saw Lucy Gray just barely escape being crushed by a large stone support column. 

More crumbling ceiling. Coriolanus’ hands were cold when he urgently shoved you forward. So hard that you went tumbling down, screaming with the sudden painful jolts the metal pipe sent shooting up your spine. A second later, you blearily looked around for Coriolanus—realizing that he’d pushed you into the clear when you found him pinned down under heavy foundational slants—and they’d caught on fire. 

Numb panic shot through your mind. You barely registered your own voice croaking out his name. You tried to crawl towards him, but he only seemed to get farther away. 

The last thing you saw before your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you went careening backwards was the rainbow dress, and wild, dark hair. 

The hospital bed was far from comfortable, but you’d been so tired you were knocked out for half of the day. Though, Tigris told you that you did sort of wake up at some point in the night, mumbling Coriolanus’ name with half-cracked eyes, before falling right back asleep.

He’d startled awake before you—rushing to your bed (right beside his) and taking your limp hand in his cold, clammy one. Brushed the hair away from your forehead and muttered apologies and please don’t die like they were a mantra.

When you finally stirred, you nearly burst into tears upon seeing Coriolanus.

“I thought you died,” you dry-sobbed. Your side ached considerably with the effort. “I thought I was going to die.”

He drew you into a loose hug, careful to avoid your bandaged midriff. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m here. I love you—I’m not going anywhere, okay? Lucy Gray saved you. Saved us.”

“She did?” you croaked, voice soft. Yes, you sort of remembered. It was all a blur.

“She caught you before you could crack your head open on the ground,” said another voice. You turned your stiff neck to see Sejanus at the foot of the other side of your bed, next to Tigris, who was running her hand up and down your arm in a comforting manner.

You blew out a shaky sigh. Your head pulsed, and you suddenly felt nauseous. “What… what happened?”

They took turns explaining. Rebel bombing. The dead tributes. The president’s son, Felix, in critical condition. Sejanus’ tribute missing. How the games were still commencing regardless. The pipe that had been lodged in your abdomen missing any vital organs. How you were lucky to be alive.

“Wovey?” you whispered. “Is she okay?”

Coriolanus smoothed a hand over your head. “She’s okay. Not one of the ones that died.”

“Lucy Gray?” you whispered. 

“Alive. She could have run. She stayed back to help you and me,” he said as his hand traveled down to gently cup your face. There were dark circles under his eyes. “I owe her now. She saved the love of my life.”

“Oh, Coryo—are you okay? Are you hurt?” Your gaze roamed all over his form, clad in an identical hospital gown. 

“A few burns and bruises. Nothing compared to you.” 

You drew in a staggered breath. Every muscle and tendon in your body screamed with even the slightest movements. 

Tigris squeezed your hand. “We were so worried for you. Coriolanus couldn’t sleep all night. Your mother came by earlier but she had to leave—a spill in the lab, or something. And your father sends his love from district two. Your mother said he was furious. Military is doubling down.”

“Typical,” you whispered, supplying the three with half a weary smile, glad that they were there for you. “I can’t believe they’re going on with the games tomorrow. This is absurd.”

“They don’t want to seem weak,” Sejanus bitterly replied. “But you woke up just in time. The televised presentations are starting soon.”

Nearly an hour later, Sejanus switched on the television set hanging in front of the beds. Tribute after tribute went by, most of them appearing gaunt and exhausted. True to what the two of you had discussed, Wovey got on stage and talked about her family back in district eight, despite looking rather shaken. The audience crooned and sighed with pity. Donations were sparse, but still more than you had expected, to your bittersweet relief. You watched from the hospital bed, curled up with Tigris at the head of it, your head on her shoulder, whilst Sejanus and Coriolanus were standing far closer to the curved screen. 

Lucy Gray was the last to go on. She had a guitar with her. And she sang a beautiful song—one about a boy back from home, she said. The audience cheered and sniffled. Even the nurses stopped their bustling to watch, some of them discreetly wiping away tears.

Once visiting hours were over and Tigris and Sejanus were shooed out of the hospital, Coriolanus sat beside you and slung an arm over your shoulder. He slotted his fingers beneath your chin and kissed you deeply. It was a slow embrace, with not a hint of sexual intentions—he just wanted to hold you. Remind himself that you were still alive, still here, still his.

Your nose nudged his when he laid his forehead over yours. The two of you breathed in each other’s comforting presence. Just the two of you. It reminded you of when times were so… uncomplicated. Before all the mentoring came along, the only things you had to worry about were grades and Coriolanus’ refusals to eat properly.

Then, he told you about Clemensia. How she was probably somewhere in this very building. How she screamed when she was bitten by the snake muttation. Your mind raced with questions, but you yawned instead and leaned against his chest. 

“I love you, too, Coryo,” you whispered into his hospital gown, realizing you hadn’t said it back earlier. 

A few minutes later, you were back asleep. Coriolanus was careful not to wake you when he laid you back down. Tucked the blanket up to your chin. He kissed your hairline once more, regarding you with a fond expression, before straightening, trying his best to ignore the aches blossoming over his back and legs.

And then he left the ward, assuring the doctors that he was fine and he could be discharged. They reluctantly agreed after a brief check-up, and had him sign off for himself. Once he was out, he immediately set off for the arena, trying to search for something, anything to keep his tribute alive.

Tunnels. The ground had collapsed into them, giving Lucy Gray a perfect place to run and hide. He went back home, making sure Grandma’am and Tigris were asleep—before pouring a copious amount of powdered rat poison into his late mother’s compact. 

It was cheating. But you and Sejanus had both said it before—he was a rebel by nature. Bad news.

He visited the zoo enclosure and gave it to her then, informing her of the tunnels. Wiped her tears with a handkerchief, then told her he owed her his life and more. That you were okay, and it was all thanks to her. Lucy Gray looked overwhelmed for a moment. She did what any decent person would, she thought. He promised her that she’d get out. Return home to the Covey. False hope whispered unrealistic dreams into her ears and she let herself listen. 

“We all do things we’re not proud of to survive,” he whispered when Lucy Gray attempted to protest, not wanting to poison anyone. He pushed the compact firmly into her hands. “Do it for your family.”

Conflict warred across her features. She nodded once, then twice. 

Coriolanus' expression set with determination. “We are going to win this, Lucy Gray. We’re going to win this together. I’m going to get you home.”

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow drabbles #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #young!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst

[mikajunie]

rediscovering shame and giving yourself compassion (how to deal with shame as someone with ADHD)

this is directed towards my fellow ADHDers who have trouble with reoccuring shame while leads to hindered productivity.

signs that your productivity is hindered by shame (compiled by my own experiences):

you feel negative physical symptoms when you think about your responsibilities

you find ways to avoid the responsibilities

every time you make progress, you feel like you don't ever wanna touch it again

when you present your progress, you feel ashamed of yourself because it's not finished (on time & according to ur standards).

you feel like you are a constant failure. you never win, despite achieving good things here and there.

you are a walking ball of anxiety

you have a fear of being perceived

there's probably more, but eh those are just from my own experiences

below i will write down what y'all should remember, what you can do to help yourself, etc. this is compiled from dr k, my own journaling time, and my firsthand experience from having shame 24/7

some things u gotta remember

shame is what exists in the gap between your ideal self and where you are currently.

your ideal self doesn't have to be unrealistic, it can be yourself when you were at your peak or someone who is very similar to you.

shame brings negative thoughts, because it makes you see progress as a negative thing.

instead of being happy that u made progress, u grumble to urself and ask "why didnt i just do it sooner? im so stupid". it's a reminder of your failures, so u avoid progress altogether.

shame can become a part of you, to the point where you feel uneasy or vulnerable if you dont feel ashamed at yourself

shame doesn't do anything to ADHDers in the long run except self-loathing and hindered productivity.

what should u do?

basically self-therapy, but instead of stopping at why, i try to solve my shame one-by-one.

examine past moments where you felt a LOT of shame. this can go back to elementary. the stronger the emotions, the better. now, write them down. you're probably cringing, but that is good. feel all the cringiness running through ur veins.

why did you feel shame? why did it happen? what did you feel?

reframe your thoughts. instead of immediately running away from it, accept it and justify it. give it compassion. give it a hug. was it your 7 year old self? hug yourself. it's okay to fuck up and do silly things sometimes, and it's okay to have ADHD. it's not our fault.

remember that ADHD is a lifelong nerudivergency, you can't just push it away. coping mechanisms and tools help, but give yourself some grace when you screw up. it's our first time living anyway.

calm your body down. make sure your physical body is doing okay.

now... think of one thing you want to do but can't because of shame and do these steps carefully. think of the reasons why you might be ashamed, and reframe your thoughts.

WARNING!! TAKE IT ONE PRESENT ACTION AT A TIME. don't do this for every action you want to take, let your body slowly learn that it's okay to make progress despite the shame you feel, and you are allowed to feel compassion for yourself.

train your body to accept compassion slowly. life is tough with ADHD but it's even tougher knowing that shame will get in your way. give yourself a break, it's fine to fuck up, we all go through different things anyway. even if it's not fine, you will learn and make those mistakes a lil bit lesser in the future.

ok hope this helps.

#mika rambles #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #adhd #actuallyadhd #actually adhd #adhd tips #adhd advice #adhd problems #adhd brain #adhd things #self improvement #mental health #mental illness #advice

[transmascissues]

i absolutely cannot believe people are trying to start discourse about whether nex benedict was actually nonbinary / whether it was okay for him to describe himself as nonbinary to some people if he didn’t actually identify that way as if he isn’t literally DEAD because he was KILLED. this is a MURDERED CHILD and these monsters are so busy getting mad at the possibility that he might have been a trans boy who described himself as nonbinary to his family because that was easier for them to take that they’re turning a CHILD who was MURDERED into fucking discourse. even when we die at the hands of cis people’s violence, our own community finds a way to make us the villains of the story.

and all of this bullshit on top of the ways that cis people are already trying to say our grief over his death is unjustified. all of this on top of people claiming he wasn’t murdered and speculating on other causes of death (i literally saw someone say he “clearly went home and took the coward’s way out” and i have never been more disgusted) or claiming that he started the fight as if any action on his part could’ve been enough to justify his death. i am haunted by the sound of his father screaming that his child was not filth because that is what people have been saying about this poor kid, that’s how cruelly his memory is being treated, and even the trans community can’t get it’s shit together enough to look past the stupid discourse and see the tragedy in front of us. did you all forget that it was supposed to be up to us to grieve him in the way he deserves when the rest of the world fails to care if people like him live or die? did you all forget that this child was our sibling, the future of our community, a life that we should have had the chance to know and treasure while he was still here but that we now have a responsibility to hold close to our hearts in his absence? nex’s life was precious and it was ended far too soon and if you truly believe that anything is more important than mourning his life and fighting for a world where no more trans people have to meet such an awful fate, you’re a traitor to this community and you do not deserve the place you occupy within it.

i’m so tired. i can’t even imagine how tired his family must be, to see the public treat the child they’re grieving so horribly, to see the world fail their baby again. leave him alone. he was already robbed of peace in life; the least you can do is let him finally have it in death.

#as a trans man whose family still uses they/them and neutral terms for me and would describe me as nonbinary #because that was how i initially came out to them and me being a man is a much bigger hurdle than i have the energy to help them get over #it’s SO deeply disturbing to know that if my life ended in violence #my own community would be more concerned with how my family referred to me in death than with the fact that i was killed #how fucking dare you turn this poor child’s existence into discourse fodder when they aren’t even here to defend themselves #when you only even know who he is in the first place because he was killed #tw transphobic violence #nex benedict #tbh it feels wrong to even add my usual tags to this but i need people to see it so. here we go #transandrophobia #transandromisia #transmisandry #virilmisia #virilphobia #anti transmasculinity #transmascphobia #exorsexism #trans men #transmascs

[etheries1015]

Lilia couldn't help but notice the way this other person got...rather uncomfortably close to you, in his opinion. Almost by instinct, the fae found himself floating directly behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders with his head poking out from behind you and pressing his cheek gently against yours.

"I'm sorry, but I do believe this one is taken!" Rollo raised an eyebrow before holding up his handkerchief against his nose, scowling at the fae.

"You cannot own a human. They are not object to be had, I believe." He grumbled from behind the tissue, eying Lilia whose eyes remind bright and positive per usual. He knew it was silly to be arguing with a student of all people over the affections of his lover, but he couldn't help but feel that Rollo did not intend on backing down around you. He had a bad feeling inside of his chest, and the old general's gut feelings were never wrong.

"Ahaha!" Lilia laughed exasperatedly, "Let's go, my beloved bat," He emphasized, leading to turn you away from the obviously annoyed student in an attempt to avoid any further confrontation. You raised an eyebrow at him although allowing the fae to lead you afar.

"Are you jealous?" You cooed, Lilia raising an eyebrow at you with a smile calmly painted upon his features.

"Of course not. I am confident in our affections in one another," He confidently said.

He was not a very good liar.

It was painfully obvious the way he would always be by your side or conveniently have an excuse to pull you away whenever a conversation sparked between you and Rollo. Lilia made it a point to distract you- handing you cute knicknacks he found in the city, feed you some local bread while staring Rollo down, and overall be...well, petty, for lack thereof better words. It was constant, all day. He was clinging to you and showing a side to him you have not seen before.

Upon returning to the chambers that you shared with your lover, Lilia took the opportunity to push you against the bed and nuzzle himself into your warmth. You could feel the guilt radiating off of him, the fae groaning in annoyance.

"That was unbecoming of a fae my age," He murmured, "The things you do to me, little bat..." You let out a hearty laugh and raised your eyebrows at your lover, playfully hitting him on his back.

"Don't blame me for your possessiveness! But I don't really blame you. I could tell Rollo harbored some sort of crush on me, and I was kind of put off at his side comments about magic users and fae. So I guess your actions were justified. Although..." You pulled him away from his hug and looked him in the eyes, "I would think my boyfriend would have more faith in me."

"Oh hush your squabbling, admit it, you were smitten with my outward displays of affection~" You smiled playfully and looked away from him, pretending to be in thought and humming thoughtfully.

"Hmmm... I suppose I did," You looked back at him with a toothy grin, "It was cute." Lilia let out an amused chuckle before capturing your lips with his own, pushing you back down to the bed and placing himself on top of you.

"Faes love tends to be intense, you know. Such is their jealousy," He said to you with his forehead pressed against your own, staring lovingly into your eyes, "Best prepare yourself, my darling." He swooped in for another kiss.

"So you admit you were jealous?"

"Nope."

"Lilia!!" You burst out laughing as he peppered your face and neck with kisses and love bites. His love was intense, but that was only one of the many things that you love about this fae <3

#Twisted wonderland #Twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland fanfictions #twst fanfictions #twisted wonderland fanfics #twst fanfics #lilia #Lilia vanrouge #Lilia vanrouge x reader #Lilia twisted wonderland #Lilia twisted wonderland x reader #Lilia twst #twst lilia x reader

[rewrite-canon]

im going crazy with how people are starting to agree with snow that sejanus was really stupid and deserved what was coming to him. reading the books first should be a pre requisite to the movie idcccc if that takes away the wider audience, the wider audience all have smooth brains anyway.

“why was he colluding with rebels when he could’ve just thought about it pragmatically 🙄” i’m in your fucking walls. sejanus was never dumb, snow just kept pushing that perception of him through the book to deflect the fact that sejanus was an actual good person. snow thought himself the personification of good and benevolence, which was why everything he did had to have some half-assed excuse as to why he was justified in doing it. it was why he was actually tweaking in the woods when lucy gray left him, because he wanted to rid himself of her but he didn’t have an actual reason so he convinced himself of the most random scenario ever to justify trying to shoot at her. so we can establish that snow was an evil broke boy who clearly wasn’t good— then sejanus was a direct confrontation of snow’s own shortcomings towards that (i don’t think i have to detail how sejanus was genuine, it was obvious). coriolanus and sejanus are like the direct opposite characters of each other, and snow knew and took pride in this to an extent. which is why snow couldn’t admit that sejanus was good to himself, thus sejanus was deemed ‘stupid’ to protect his own deluded self actualisation (but this also includes other aspects like how the war made the plinths rich and the snows poor, leading to resentment and jealousy from snow).

“but that still didn’t mean he wasn’t doing dumb things throughout the book” was it really that dumb? a rebellion will always include some level of risk but i don’t hear anyone calling heavensbee stupid because it actually worked out for him. plus sejanus is district, so if we use our common sense of who he is as a character and emotional intelligence of his situation, it’s pretty easy to see why he would get in touch with rebels. he’s literally always yearned for the districts, he never once cared about his money or safety, which isn’t stupid, it’s sad. this was his way of dealing with the guilt of profiting from his people’s suffering— again, not stupid. you could argue he was reckless, especially when he went into the arena, but most people who simply cast him as a ‘dumb character’ ignore how troubled he is and fall into the very filtered lens of snow who was just concentrating on his stupidity.

sejanus’ growing radical actions had nothing to do with stupidity and everything to do with feeling helpless and like nothing was changing. he tried minor/low-risk things such as attempting to change the perception of the districts in the capitol, advocating against the hunger games etc etc. of course it didn’t work, so his options grew limited to more radical courses of action. its a natural line of thought— activists literally do it in real life when they feel as if their cause isn’t getting enough attention (eg. setting themselves on fire). sejanus is a desperate character who is so selfless in light of snow’s constant self-preservation. snow will always put himself first and be paranoid that he will be betrayed like he’s betrayed others, so he never understands sejanus’ disposition to help and trust people, so he labels him dumb. omg. like. sejanus is so not-stupid i’m actually gonna start freaking out!! this is defamatory leave my boo alone!! plz go read a book and work on media literacy i am begging!!!

#maybe the stupidity was the friends we made along the way….. #i saw someone say that since the book was in third person then it wasn’t told from snow’s pov so it was reliable 💀💀 #like are we stupid now??? #this was supposed to be a short post but now im ranting and tweaking out #sejanus haters catch these handz leave this boy alone #he is literally the best!!! i hate yall sm 😭😭 #some of yall have the WORST takes about tbosas ever. #dont even get me started on the ‘lucy gray was manipulating and using snow the whole time’ bcuz i will freak out worse #sejanus plinth defender 4EVAAAAA #sejanus plinth #coriolanus snow #snowjanus #lucy gray baird #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #the hunger games #rewriting

[paperclipninja]

Middle of the night GO thoughts after reflecting on a couple of comments that the 'you're being silly' scene is actually not just the adorable soft exchange I have been caught up in. I mean it is, but it also isn't.

And it got me thinking that the whole of season 2 is like this, almost the entire time we have two truths in play. The whole season is one of duality.

A few examples (there are many more woven throughout but just to illustrate the point):

Right off the bat, the opening scene, it's both ominous and hopeful. Aziraphale is restrained while angel Crowley full of abandon; one angel is aware of the danger of questioning, the other is naïve. Both are experiencing the same moment in rather different ways. It sets the tone of the season immediately and puts in motion this layered truth within the story.

The minisode with wee Morag and Elspeth, the entire graverobbing premise presents us with the dual truth that digging up the dead is bad but the selling of the bodies to the surgeon, thus contributing to saving lives, is good.

Aziraphale grapples with the duality here, justifying the actions of Elspeth by convincing himself that one truth is greater than the other. We also see that Crowley is far more able to recognise the complexity of multiple truths being valid depending on circumstance. This whole minisode feels like Neil showing his hand a little bit, the duality is so explicitly addressed, meanwhile we, the audience, are engaged in a larger unfolding story in which we are observing similar layered truths playing out in different ways.

Now the scene that made this whole thought process unravel, still one of my favourite scenes and will remain so, is the "smitten, I believe...you're being silly" exchange. It is both tender and awful.

Here we have Crowley, expressing his very real fear of JimGabriel, opening up to Aziraphale that he doesn't feel safe in the bookshop because of the constant fear he will wake up, and Aziraphale just looks at him with heart eyes and tells him he's being silly. This flags so loudly that we're watching two characters who are experiencing very different versions of their current reality, due to past experience, yes, but also, Aziraphale and Crowley each have their own idea about the right way to react to the current situation.

It's been pointed out by many before me, but the ball is another example of incredible juxtaposition and an extraordinary display of two truths existing at once. It is both incredibly romantic and an actual nightmare.

It is reflected, once again, in the way Aziraphale and Crowley are experiencing it, we know one character is caught up in the romance, the other in the horror show, but as a viewer, we are being tasked with holding both truths in our mind simultaneously. And both are true.

Aziraphale the entire season is both giddy in love and completely dismissive of Crowley. It is adorable and infuriating at the same time.

And yes, it is a reflection of the very duality the entire premise of Good Omens presents us with - that something can be good and bad at the same time, pure and corrupt, that the entire binary of Heaven and Hell/good and evil is flawed because those concepts can and do co-exist.

But the way it is seen in the interactions on a personal level this season is what has leapt out at me. It's why I think we see people falling into different interpretations of a lot of the scenes and moments, because they are more than that, they are observations. We are often observing two sides of the same coin, and both are true. The sheer genius of it and the way it is a mirror to the characters and the entire concept of the show we are observing is, quite frankly, mind boggling.

And it all comes to a head in the final fifteen™. There is so much duality in play here that it is no wonder there are hundreds of posts untangling bits of it and trying to extract the meaning from within the many layers. It's because we are given two truths in this final scene that are both heartbreaking.

Crowley loves Aziraphale and wants them to be together, free at last. Aziraphale loves Crowley and wants them to be together, free at last.

BUT

Aziraphale wants to use the system to keep them both safe. Crowley wants to escape the system to keep them both safe.

And then all the moments of duality between them throughout the season reach a critical juncture: Aziraphale in love but dismissive, Crowley understanding that Heaven = good is too simplistic and trying to compel Aziraphale to remember the lesson from Edinburgh ("when Heaven ends life here on Earth, it'll be just as dead as if Hell ended it"), Crowley trying to use the notion of romance to counter the nightmare with a desperate kiss.

It's a complete inversion of those two truths in the opening scene of the season, the entire scene is at the same time ominous and hopeful, but it is Aziraphale who largely being naïve and Crowley who is aware of the danger.

I mean, it was all spelled out for us really, this duality and the fact that those multiple truths in play were always going to come to a head. It was all there, wrapped up in this quote:

"What does your exactly mean, exactly? I feel like your exactly and my exactly are different exactlies".

#good omens #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #honestly don't know if this even makes sense #middle of the night thoughts and all that #good omens thoughts

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for breaking up with my boyfriend suddenly and lying about why?

I (21M) broke up with my boyfriend (18M) a few days ago. It was a painful decision that I already somewhat regret.

We met in uni and have been dating for about 3 months, and our relationship had been going extremely well, but I started to worry about our age gap. I was concerned about it when we first started flirting, but when he confessed to me I was so happy he felt the same way that I forgot about my worries for a little.

I'm VERY chronically online so I'm familiar with age gap discourse, and 18 and 21 seems to be a very grey area. The more I thought about our age gap, the more I looked into peoples' opinions on it online, and these opinions often didn't seem very positive. It made me super nervous about how people might view our relationship and also made me worry that I might be doing something predatory despite my intentions being pure. People in particular seemed to have issues when the girl was older (which I think is fucking weird, but anyway!) I'm a guy, but I'm FTM, only out to my boyfriend, and everyone around me knows me as a girl, so this was pretty worrying.

Our relationship wasn't a public thing - we're both private people and we wanted to date for a few months before going around parading it. But my boyfriend was getting more eager to show us off, which I was happy about before, but all my doomscrolling online had made me worry.

The breaking point for me was a youtuber from my country saying in a video that he found 18 and 21 creepy. Prior to that I'd tried to reassure myself with the idea that while people from like, the USA, might find the age gap weird, people from my own country (England) wouldn't care. But that video destroyed that safety blanket.

I became disgusted with myself and started to see myself as a bad person. I was also worried that when our relationship became more public, people would hate me. I've never had many friends, university is the happiest I've been by a mile in regards to my social life - I didn't want to lose that. Plus, I live at university and can't really move out right now, so I didn't want to be trapped with people who thought I was a creep.

So, after a particularly bad breakdown, I broke up with my boyfriend. I told him that I was struggling to juggle the relationship with my studies and was starting to become tired, and felt it was best for the both of us to end things. It was a believable reason because in general I have very little energy, so he completely bought it - but he was devastated. He kept apologising for not seeing the signs and kept saying he thought things were going so well, and he was right, because they were! I felt awful.

I feel really guilty about what I did, but I was in a state of panic. I don't know whether I did it more to 'cleanse' myself or for the sake of my reputation, I don't even know if the age gap is wrong, I don't even know if people would have reacted badly! I was just scared, but now I feel like a shitty person for what I did. I don't know if the reasoning behind my actions can justify completely blindsiding and lying to my ex like that. I thought I loved him, but maybe I don't if I was willing to do that!

So, tell me honestly, AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

[mejcinta]

Aegon and Aemond vs The Strongs: A Show of Loyalty.

To this day it's still strange to me that people misinterpret the dinner scene for one or another reason, misreading the words and actions of the characters using bias and/or team politics.

The episode 8 dinner scene picks up from the previous episode years ago on Driftmark when Aemond lost his eye. It is meant to show us what feelings the Greens harbor towards Rhaenyra's family years after a feud broke between them.

Throughout the dinner Aemond focuses on the Strong boys: Luke sitting across from him and Jace who failed miserably at 'turning the other cheek' and disrespected Aegon by asking Helaena for a dance.

In fact, before taking a seat Aemond is heard lamenting to Aegon about how he hates that they have to break bread with Rhaenyra's brood (I'm paraphrasing but you'll hear it before Viserys is carried into the room).

In the end, both Aemond and Aegon answer to the contempt and audacity the Strong boys showed them. The scene by all means effectively managed to show us how the brothers now work as a unit compared to when they were younger and Aemond suffered bullying on his own.

Aegon supported Aemond's derogatory toast and even tackled Luke (the boy that gouged out his brother's eye) when he tried to join Jace against Aemond.

And Aemond dealt with Jace squarely in response to the disrespect he showed Aegon and Helaena (we all know that dance was not about Helaena for Jace, but coming between a married couple that has an image to uphold and as revenge against Aegon who foolishly made a move on Baela to insult him).

From the very start of the scene it's clear that neither Aemond nor Aegon wanted to be at the dinner. They hated that the Strong boys were there and even bitched about them before Viserys arrived.

Aegon's sly behavior with Baela was a provocation he started in response to his displeasure at Rhaenyra and the Strongs being there and Viserys' wish for them to bury their differences without acknowledging Rhaenyra's wrongs. Aegon was pressing for tension to erupt at every chance he could get.

Aemond silently watched him go and did not stop him for a reason. He couldn't bring himself to rebuke Aegon's mischief, not if that meant making the Strongs upset.

He only intervened when Jace almost lost his cool on Aegon, standing up dominantly to give warning to his nephew and Aegon to a lesser extent (who eyed him knowingly).

When Helaena rose up to justifiably humiliate Aegon with her toast, (she was clearly upset about his sexual misconduct with Baela and earlier with Dyana) Aemond's reaction isn't shown.

However, when Jace stood up to ask Helaena for a dance with his eyes fixed on a scandalised Aegon (Jace had every intention here to get back at Aegon, not to be the better gentleman), Aemond took notice, meaningfully locking eyes with Aegon, but kept his cool nonetheless; whereas Aegon quietly seethed and squeezed Helaena's beetle (reportedly a gift he'd offered her before the dinner) in his hand.

Aemond monitored Helaena because he doesn't trust the Strongs with his family. And I'm sure Aegon would've done the same if he was seated in a position where he was free to watch the mother of his children in Rhaenyra's bastard's arms.

Note how he was staring at Rhaenyra while Aemond monitored Heleana and Jace.

The Targtowers clearly watch out for each other when faced with external forces, just as Alicent said they should in episode 6: "In the world we must defend our own".

When the roasted pig arrived on the table Aemond suddenly took notice of Luke giggling at him, reliving how he and Jace (and a now repentant Aegon) would make fun of him for being dragonless.

The insult was probably less about the pig to him and more about what happened because of his dragonlessness. He gained Vhagar then lost his eye in a sickening twist when the same boy laughing across at him swung a blade at his face!!!

Finally, Aemond lost his cool. He snapped and attacked the Strongs with his infamous toast.

He did not make the toast because of Jace dancing with Helaena, like some believe. He did so because of Luke who had the gall to laugh at his pain!!

Aegon readily supported Aemond because he too was itching to get back at the Strongs, particularly Jace who despite of having insulted Aegon by dancing with Helaena, could not handle the pun in Aemond's toast.

Aegon and Aemond were obviously fed up with the pretenses at that point of the dinner. From the very beginning of the dinner scene and their interaction with each other, their disgust at the Strongs and Rhaenyra was apparent. They hate that those three can get away with having a lord (Vaemond) murdered in cold blood on top of disabling Aemond without consequence!

How safe is their family? How can they trust the Strongs and Rhaenyra when punishment and death follows everyone that dares to challenge them? That is why Aegon and Aemond were evidently frustrated with Helaena and Alicent respectively at the dinner. The boys believe they know a threat when they see it while the ladies are more accomodating of Rhaenyra and the Strongs, Alicent especially believing (perhaps out of resignation) that there could be a chance at peace.

What transpires after the toast shows the factions within the Targtower family itself. Alicent and Helaena being more open and neutral, Otto wanting to maintain appearances and Aegon and Aemond being understandably doubtful and hostile.

The scene is so much more complex and informative. It shows us the relationships between the Targtowers and what their stances on Rhaenyra's party is. How they work together and how they are divided.

#hotd analysis #incoherent thoughts #targtower bros #the greens #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #strong audacity #helaena targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower