#'if we are to believe the opinion of our neighbours to which we add our own' just truly one of the best sentences ive read this week

[abrahamvanhelsings]

reading 19th century opera reviews rn every theatre reviewer who has ever existed is at heart a massive bitch

we have recommended some cuts, because if we are to believe the opinion of our neighbours, to which we add our own, mr. auber has prolonged truly too much a certain type of cantabile that he has sung by mlle cinti, and the proof that they are too long is that the public interrupted them twice with applause, believing that the musician and singer had finished. [...] an observation has been made almost generally, that m. auber does not heat up his conspiracy enough in the most critical moment. when mazaniello returns to his cabin, naples is in the power of the people; this idea must therefore occupy all his mind; that mazaniello should sing, nothing better, but that he should at least interrupt himself, that he listens, that he is worried, that he is beside himself; when alphonse and elvire, seeking refuge, implore fenella's help, that they should sing again, since singing is required; but would that this singing be hurried, that it be breathless, so to speak... well! no; once in front of the footlights, mlle cinti coughs very low, and with her eye fixed on the conductor, begins a long complaint which will last just eleven minutes, watch in hand.

[dsenvs3000w24]

Understanding the Value of Interpreting History

“There is no peculiar merit in ancient things, but there is merit in integrity, and integrity entails the keeping together of the parts of any whole, and if these parts are scattered throughout time, then the maintenance of integrity entails a knowledge, a memory, of ancient things. …. To think, feel or act as though the past is done with, is equivalent to believing that a railway station through which our train has just passed, only existed for as long as our train was in it.” (Edward Hyams, Chapter 7, The Gifts of Interpretation)

To understand this quote, I have decided to analyze it in three distinct sections.

“There is no peculiar merit in ancient things, but there is merit in integrity, and integrity entails the keeping together of the parts of any whole,”

To begin with, I disagree with the premises presented here and how they are being used to build an argument. I agree that there is no inherent merit to historical relics, but there can be merit to integrity. However, in this instance, integrity is defined as maintaining the parts of a whole. This seems misleading since most people think of integrity as honesty or strong moral character, but they are using an alternate definition of integrity and then claiming it has inherent merit because of that. For example, if I said “wow my neighbour is so evil, he keeps beating his wife” most people would be shocked and agree that person is evil. But what if I meant that he just beat her in Mario Party three times in a row and not that he physically harmed her? This would really change the context, and people would probably disagree that the man is evil, because I was using a different definition of the word “beat” than what makes sense for my argument. I don’t that think “integrity” can be assumed to have merit while using the definition of maintaining the parts of a whole. Therefore, I don’t think they provided a good argument for why historical study has merit. I agree that there is no inherent merit to ancient things, but I think that we do derive a ton of benefits from studying those ancient things and learning from our past while appreciating how we arrived where we are currently. In my opinion, the merits of studying history should stand on their own without relying on a weird interpretation of integrity.

“If these parts are scattered throughout time, then the maintenance of integrity entails a knowledge, a memory, of ancient things.”

I do agree that weaving together separate things or events in history into a cohesive narrative is a great way to improve knowledge or context of historical events and make them easier to relate to (Beck et al., 2018 – pg. 326). Independent names or dates or places are hard to recall or relate to, but combining these names and places into a story can make details more memorable and deepen people’s feelings of connection to those events (Beck et al., 2018 – pg. 326). Understanding historical context can also add a lot of meaning to people's perspectives of an area (Hooykaas, 2024).

A beautiful example of the interactions between nature and history in Jerusalem.

“To think, feel or act as though the past is done with, is equivalent to believing that a railway station through which our train has just passed, only existed for as long as our train was in it.”

I interpret this passage as conveying the importance and effects of history. Even if we forget about a historical event, the effects of that event may still affect us, and the event itself still happened and exists for others. However, as we stop sharing stories and forget parts of history, we may lose our understanding of how real those events were. An example I see of this currently is through the rise of antisemitism and antisemitic rhetoric in our current culture. Despite the holocaust ending just under 80 years ago, many people seem to have forgotten the horrors that arose from the normalization of antisemitism and have started using the same types of justifications rebranded for the current world. I have witnessed many former friends spreading misinformation about how Jews control the banks, the media, or the governments, and it feels concerningly normalized for people to spread that harmful sentiment or harbor general dislike for Jews. Sadly, this rhetoric has real-life consequences and as of December of 2023, antisemitism has been responsible for 53% of all hate crimes reported in Toronto (Lautenschlager, 2023). My former high school, a Jewish school, recently had a bomb threat, a “pro-Palestine” protest took place at the entrance to a known Jewish neighbourhood where my partner lives (there are no political establishments where they protested, it is just a Jewish residential area), the bus stop next to my local synagogue was spraypainted with a swastika, and it is standard practice for every synagogue, Jewish community centre, and Jewish school to have armed guards at the entrance because they are so often targeted by hate crimes. Seeing this increase in anti-Jewish sentiment has really opened my eyes to how quickly we can forget the importance of history and how crucial it is to remember the lessons of the past. I hope that we can reflect as a society about how we treat ethnic minorities, especially with our current treatment of Jewish people, and create an inclusive environment to set an example for future historians to learn from.

Works Cited

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage: For A Better World. SAGAMORE Publishing.

Lautenschlager, T. (2023). Antisemitic incidents make up 53% of reported hate crimes since Israel-Hamas war began: Toronto police. CBC News. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/toronto/hate-crimes-data-toronto-police-1.7064086

Hooykaas, A. (2024) Unit 06: Nature Interpretation through History ENVS*3000. University of Guelph.

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Add this to your must-watch list, sharpish: The Couple Next Door has all the sex, secrets and drama we’re after for an autumn sofa session. Eleanor Tomlinson, who plays Evie, reveals all about her character, the process of filming and what makes the series such an “addictive” watch.

You might know Eleanor Tomlinson as Demelza in Poldark or, if you have more classic tastes, as Jas from Angus, Thongs And Perfect Snogging. Maybe you watched her in The Nevers or The White Queen. Whichever one was your favourite, we can confidently say that you’ve never seen Tomlinson like this.

And by ‘this’, we mean as Evie in the new Channel 4 drama The Couple Next Door. It’s a role very different to those that Tomlinson is known for, not only because it’s not a period piece (no corsets here), but because it’s a dark, sexy psychological drama.

The six-part series, premiering on Channel 4, follows Evie (Tomlinson) and Pete (Alfred Enoch), a couple who move into a fancy new neighbourhood and quickly make friends with their neighbours Becka (Jessica De Gouw) and Danny (Sam Heughan). That friendship slides into something… different when Evie discovers an attraction to Danny and Pete finds out that their neighbours have a very open relationship.

Things quickly get sexy, complicated and dangerous. There are guns, forests, a creepy neighbour watching Becka through a telescope, crime, secrets, lies, the lot. All in all, it’s a lot of drama and we are very excited to watch the whole thing in one sitting.

But what was it like for Tomlinson to film such a jam-packed series loaded with sex and violence? And how did she get immersed in the complex character of Evie?

“Evie is a complicated soul,” Tomlinson said. “She’s obviously going through significant grief and I think she’s stuck in a rut. She’s very curious about exploring herself and exploring boundaries, both with her friends and with her partner. She’s been with one guy for most of her life.

“As the series progresses, she finds her confidence, and Danny [Heughan] and Becka [De Gouw] bring her out of her shell and show her different routes, different possibilities. We worked on the characters’ relationships as a cast of four, so that the journey for each character was more complex.”

Despite the heaviness of the plot, filming the series ended up being one of the most fun jobs Tomlinson has ever done. “We had a real laugh making it,” she shared. “There are moments that are so tense and tough, but we as a five, including Dries, are just such good friends. It’s a gamble when you put together a cast, but Dries’s vision has paid off, and we’re firm friends because of it.”

A key player in that was Alfred Enoch, who plays Tomlinson’s on-screen partner. Tomlinson said: “He’s so intelligent and he really challenged me. All of our ‘at home’ scenes were piled into two weeks, which did actually help the stir-crazy feeling that the show needed. We knew Pete and Evie had been together since they were at university, so a real shorthand between the two was important to us. We wanted the relationship to be completely believable, otherwise the series doesn’t work.

“Alfred is electric to play opposite because every take is different. If I was struggling with the dialogue, I’d ask his opinion and we’d talk it through, sometimes for hours at a time, so that when we shot the scene, it was the best version and we were excited to get into it as we knew what we needed to achieve. I’ve not really experienced that before from another actor. I found myself wanting to not only be good for myself, the director and the show, but I found myself wanting Alfred’s approval at the end of those big scenes.”

There is, of course, another romantic pairing for the character of Evie in the form of Sam Heughan’s Danny. Heughan is also known for a period drama – Outlander – and the duo quickly bonded over that experience. “I think that’s what was appealing about this project for both of us it was a chance to break out of the mould we’re most known for. It’s modern and it was a challenging leading role. Sam is now one of my best friends. Every day was a joy and creating Danny and Evie’s complicated and dangerous relationship was a lot of fun. It’s a real treat to work alongside such a supportive co-star, but to leave a job with a best friend is pretty rare.”

Yoga teacher Becka, played by Jessica De Gouw, completes the quartet. “Becka is the open door because she does what she wants to do and she’s confident in who she is,” Tomlinson explained. “She doesn’t care what people think of her. Initially, I think that’s quite scary for Evie because she’s never come across anyone quite like her. When Evie falls into a well of grief and despair, Becka is there offering her a way out and a good time, ultimately giving Evie the green light to go ahead and explore elements of herself, which is something she’s never allowed herself to do before. Becka is probably the most crucial character for my character.

“Jess is a fantastic actress and to play opposite and alongside her was really empowering. She is one of my greatest friends now and I speak to her nearly every day. We worked very hard to build a chemistry as we wanted the women to instigate the resulting relationships, as opposed to the men, as ultimately, it’s more interesting, less predictable and less from the male gaze. At the end of the day, your performance is always in the hands of an editor, but I’m proud of the work Jess and I did to create and flesh out the complex nature of our characters’ friendship.”

[anghraine]

I was thinking of why Darcy seems so incredibly relatable, and it’s like ...

1. You know what sucks? Dancing.

“Do you often dance at St. James’s?”

“Never, sir.”

“Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?”

“It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it.”

Look, dancing is fine and cool-looking for other people. For me? Awkward and terrible. Totally avoiding it at every conceivable opportunity (...unless I fall for a girl who’s really into it, I guess).

2. I miss cities :(

“In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society.”

A lot of people pull a Bingley and are like, well, they both have their advantages and disadvantages, blah blah. But me? No. I’ve lived in small towns for most of my life and it’s suffocating as hell. Sure, it’s a kind of asshole thing to say to your neighbours, but he’s not wrong.

3. The best way to deal with social situations: wandering aimlessly around and only talking to people I already know

[Darcy] declined being introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party.

Like so.

4. A lot of people are good at catching tone and showing expression. Not me!

“I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,” said Darcy, “of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”

Right?!

5. Let’s talk about BOOKS

“What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr Darcy!”

“It ought to be good,” he replied, “it has been the work of many generations.”

“And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying books.”

“and to all this she [an accomplished woman] must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”

“What think you of books?” said he, smiling.

“Books—oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings.”

“I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions.”

Darcy’s idea of a good time is objectively correct!

6. You should only give in to what other people want if you genuinely believe they’re right

“To yield readily—easily—to the persuasion of a friend is no merit with you.”

“To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either.”

This!

7. Some people are just so smart and charismatic and appealing that it gets all tangled up in what they look like and idek

he began to find it [her face] was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes.

LIKE. SO.

8. I shouldn’t respond to people’s strawman arguments, but the temptation is ... so strong ...

“Would Mr Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intentions as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?”

“Upon my word, I cannot exactly explain the matter; Darcy must speak for himself.”

“You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to stand according to your representation ...”

The struggle is real!

9. I don’t write quickly, but I do write a lot

“You write uncommonly fast.”

“You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.”

“But do you always write such charming long letters to her, Mr Darcy?”

“They are generally long; but whether always charming it is not for me to determine.”

For a rich and powerful man invented c. 1795, Darcy is determined to be relatable about literally. everything.

10. If I’m holding a grudge about something, you’ll probably hear about it. Over and over and over

“This account then is what he [Bingley] has received from Mr Darcy. I am satisfied. But what does he say of the living?”

“He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard them from Mr Darcy more than once.”

(Honestly, it’s pretty funny to me that Darcy just periodically goes on Wickham rants but Bingley only vaguely remembers what he says.)

11. It’s so uncomfortable when strange random people just show up and start talking to you. Like, all you can really do is be vaguely polite and go away. Right?

Mr Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr Collins allowed him time to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr Collins, however, was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr Darcy’s contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way.

Right!

I’m sure there’s more, too. Anyway, I love that he’s such an icon, but simultaneously is ... like this. Eternal fave!

[welovediaaxx]

ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏsᴛ ᴅɪᴀʀʏ / / azula x fem!reader

 warnings : slight cursing

part four // part five // part six

a/n : you guys already know it takes me a month to write 1500 words but whatever!! enjoy this chapter the next one is gonna be jucier i promise

taglist : @888-rising​ @firelordazulaaaa​ @sighsam​ @theblueslytherin​ @halcyon-arts​ @the-paintedlady​ @sweetcici-123​

send me an ask or message me to be tagged 🤍☁️

i wake up abruptly by my alarm, quickly snoozing it as i look around, taking in my surroundings. i rub my sleepy eyes as i glance at all the empty containers of the chinese food left on my poor coffee table from the night before. that’sfor sure gonna be a bitch to clean up later. speaking of last night, why am i on the couch? 

my question is quickly answered as i hear a small grunt coming from under the blanket across me. “what time is it?” azula asks as she stretches her arms. i stare at her in awe, how does she look so good mere seconds after waking up? “it’s only nine-thirty, we should go back to sleep” she grunts

my eyes widen at her statement. “nine-thirty? shit, i have class at 10.” now this is when i start panicking “zuko’s supposed to drive me today” 

i check my phone and there it was, 3 missed calls from zuko and approximately 

17 messages. and just on queue, he calls me again.

“hey zuzu, i’m sorry. i fell asleep, i’ll be down in a minute” i say as i start running around my apartment, grabbing along everything i need. i mutter a sorry to azula who just shrugs.

“uh-okay. why is azula’s car parked in front of your building?” he asks me. i can already hear his stupid smirk over the phone. 

“sorry, bad connection. gotta go!” i say as i hang up the phone, making my way over to my bedroom. i put on a pair of grey sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt. i put my laptop in my bookbag and run back to the living room.

“i’m so sorry i have to leave like this,” i say to azula who’s sitting on the couch. she looks up at me “i feel really bad. but i’ll make it up to you. i swear”

“don’t worry about it. i had fun last night” she smiles at me. 

“i had fun too. i’ll leave the keys on the kitchen counter. you can stay here as long as you’d like, just lock up when you leave” i return the smile “also, don’t open the door if mr chung knocks”

I simply had to ward her about mr chung. he’s a single gay man in his fifties who lives next door to me. he’s the main gossip provider of our building. now, don’t get me wrong, i love mr chung and all the hot gossip he offers. but i just wasn’t ready for all my neighbours to begin talking about ‘the new lady in my life’, as mr chung would probably put it

“uh okay, got it. i’ll just get my things and leave then.” azula says as she starts getting up from the couch.

“don’t worry about it” i bid her one last goodbye and grab my coat after i put on my shoes. i sprint down the 5 flights of stairs, deciding against going by elevator. i spot zuko’s car parked next to azulas and get in the passenger seat. i glance at my phone ‘nine-forty five’ 

“we can make it in fifteen minutes, right?” i ask as i glance at zuko

“it’s fine, we have mrs feng, she’s always late anyways,” zuko says as he starts backing out my driveway. “so…” zuko starts “azula’s car in your driveway? what’s that about?” he smirks

“it’s nothing you should worry about salami face,” i say as i return the smirk.

“i told you to stop calling me that! and don’t you even try to avoid the topic y/n” 

“what? are you jealous i chose your sister over you? i knew that you still weren’t over me!” i tease him as i remember our pathetic eight-month relationship our freshman year of college in which we both realised we definitely don’t prefer the opposite gender. it was awkward, to say the least. 

zuko rolls his eyes “no, believe it or not. i’m not jealous. so, she slept over?”

“yeah, we watched a movie and we fell asleep. that’s it.”

“hm… interesting,” he smirks and continues driving.

zuko and i enthusiastically sprinted across campus in hopes of making it on time. since luck was apparently on our side, we arrived right on time. we took a few breaths before opening the classroom door.

i quickly thank god for making it on time, before huffing and making my way through the mob of students who were chatting together. i plop down on the seat next to suki who had her head on the desk, her hair covering her face.

“hey suki” i say, putting my things on the table

suki groans as she lifts her head “hey y/n, is she here yet?” 

“no, not yet.” i answer as i look around “where did zuko go?” i mutter to myself. of course the fucker escaped.

“here i am, i bought us some coffee,” zuko says as he sits on the chair by suki’s left.

“thanks zu. you’re and angel. i’ll need it too, i hate econ” suki says as she starts sipping on her coffee

“that’s exactly why literally everyone told you not to sign up for it,” zuko reminds her.

“yeah, i specifically remember us begging you not to do it. we knew you were gonna be miserable” i add.

“shut up, you know i needed the points,” suki says while grabbing her head.

“well, i know something that’s gonna cheer you up,” zuko tells her. suki immediately lifts her head, looking between us waiting for somebody to tell her what she missed. i groan and roll my eyes. of course, zuko can’t keep just one thing to himself.

“azula slept over at y/n’s house”

“you slept with azula?! i knew that the date went well, but not that good!” suki yells

“that’s not what he said!” i try to explain to her. just by my luck, mrs feng arrives just before i get a chance to explain myself. during the whole lesson, i could feel suki’s eyes piercing through my shoulder. despite that, i decided to be productive and pay attention. manly to keep my mind off of suki’s groaning and quiet complaining.

after our lesson, we all decided to go to the jasmine dragon and meet up with the rest of the group. suki, zuko and i all got into zuko’s car and drove there. the car ride was surprisingly quiet although i could feel suki’s tension radiating off of her, ready to bombard me with questions.

we made our way to our usual table, which was already occupied by sokka, aang, katara and toph. “hey guys” aang greets us as we all sit down. as soon as we sat down i could feel all eyes land on me. i knew immediately that zuko talked. 

“what?” i say, deciding on playing dumb

“you slept with azula!” toph yells, thank god the whole coffee shop can hear her.

“zuko!” i yell at him. of course he can’t keep his mouth shut at any circumstance.

“hey, don’t look at me! suki texted the group chat, i thought you saw it” zuko defends himself while he lifts his hands up, trying to prove his innocence. after that, muffled arguing took over at the table. everybody voicing their opinion at the same time

“guys!” katara stands up “why don’t we let y/n speak?” she suggests 

“finally!” i huff as everybody goes quiet. “i didn’t sleep with azula, she just slept over at my place” i exclaim to our table.

“yeah, right” toph snickers.

“hey!” i yell at her direction, fighting the smile coming onto my face. “you of all people should know i’m not like that”

“yeah, toph. we all know y/n’s the biggest prude here” sokka mocks

i roll my eyes “you guys are the worst friends ever.”  

we were all in the middle of a heated debate about whether cereal should be considered soup or not (that sokka started, change my mind) when i felt a tap on my shoulder. when i turn around, i notice azula, wearing her usual casual clothes with a bag in her hand. i quickly excuse my self from the table, getting a few winks as i sit up. 

“hey, what are you doing here?” i ask her.

“well, my uncle does own this place.” she raises her sharp eyebrows in amusment.

“right, of course. that was a stupid question” i say as i start playing with my hair. i can already feel my cheeks heating up as i look at the table behind azula for help, only getting a few thumbs up in reply.

“anyway, i brought you the clothes you borrowed me last night. i washed and dried them, don’t worry” she says as she gives me the bag.

“thank you, you didn’t have to go through all the trouble, though” 

“don’t worry about it, i’ll take up any excuse i can get to see you” se says while flashing me a smile

“well, in that case, i should lend you my clothes more often”  i giggled.

“maybe you should” she agreed “my friends are waiting for me, but i’ll see you around, y/n.” she said before turning around and walking back to two girls who were unfamiliar to me. 

“yeah, see you around” i quietly sigh, mentally preparing for the interrogation that will take place back at the table occupied by my friends.

[lailoken]

“Ash (Fraxinus excelsior).

In the nineteenth century it was believed that if ash trees failed to produce fruit — keys — disaster was foretold.

In Yorkshire:

Some people every summer examined the ash tree . . . to see whether or not they had produced any seed; for the barrenness of the ash was said to be a sure sign of public calamity. It was a tradition among aged and thoughtful men, that the ash trees of England produced no seed during the year in which Charles the First was beheaded. [Jackson, 1873: 14]

In East Anglia:

The failure of the Crop of Ash-keys portends a death in the Royal Family . . . The failure in question is certainly, in some seasons, very remarkable; many an old woman believes that, if she were the fortunate finder of a bunch, and could get introduced to the king, he would give her a great deal of money for it. [Forby, 1830: 406]

ROWAN Or mountain ash, an unrelated tree which has leaves similar to those of ash, was widely considered to provide protection. Occasionally ash itself was also believed to be protective.

Rowan and ash sticks were used to drive cattle . . . believed to be 'kindly' and both trees were believed to be endowed with properties that ensured no interference from harmful influences. [Larne, Co. Antrim, October 1993]

In rural areas 'even' ash leaves-those leaves which lack a terminal leaflet and therefore have an even number of leaflets-were used in love DIVINATION. In Dorset:

The ash leaf is frequently invoked by young girls as a matrimonial oracle in the following way: The girl who wishes to divine who her future lover or husband is to be plucks an even ash leaf, and holding it in her hand, says:

“The even ash leaf in my hand, The first I meet shall be my man.’

Then putting it into her glove, adds:

‘The even ash leaf in my glove, The first I meet shall be my love.'

And lastly, into her bosom, saying:

‘The even ash leaf in my bosom, The first I meet shall be my husband.'

Soon after which the future lover or husband will be sure to make his appearance. [Udal, 1922: 254]

According to a 52-year-old woman who described how she used ash leaves for divination during her childhood:

Start at the bottom leaflet on the left-hand side and say:

“An even ash is in my hand

The first I meet will be my man.

If he don't speak and I don't speak,

This even ash I will not keep.”

As each word is said, count a leaflet around the leaf until the rhyme is completed (this probably entails going round the leaf several times). When the rhyme is finished, continue by reciting the alphabet until the bottom right-hand leaflet is reached. The letter given to this leaflet gives the initial of your boyfriend. Two or three leaves may be used so that you get a greater range of letters. [Thorncombe, Dorset, June 1976]

In many parts of northern Britain ash was known as esh. In north Lincolnshire:

There is a widespread opinion that if a man takes a newly-cut 'esh-plant' not thicker than his thumb, he may lawfully beat his wife with it. [Britten and Holland, 1886: 170]

Burning the ashen faggot — a faggot made from young ash saplings — was a widespread Christmastide custom in Devon and Somerset during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. According to a late nineteenth-century writer, it was:

an ancient ceremony transmitted to us from the Scandinavians who at their feast of Juul were accustomed to kindle huge bonfires in honour of Thor. The faggot is composed of ashen sticks, hooped round with bands of the same tree, nine in number. When placed on the fire, fun and jollity commence-master and servant are now all at equal footing. Sports begin-jumping in sacks, diving in the water for APPLES, and many other innocent games engage the attention of the rustics. Every time the bands crack by reason of the heat of the fire, all present are supposed to drink liberally of cider or egg-hot, a mixture of cider, eggs, etc. The reason why ash is selected in preference to any other timber is that tradition assigns it as the wood with which Our Lady kindled a fire in order to wash her new-born Son. [Poole, 1877: 6]

Ashen faggots are still burnt in a few West Country pubs, and miniature faggots are occasionally prepared for burning on domestic hearths.

On the evening of January sth ('old' Christmas Eve) at Curry Rivel, a Somerset village situated on the southern edge of Kings Sedgemoor, the wassailers go visiting' around the parish with their wassail song and the ashen faggot is ceremoniously burned at the King William IV public house. The faggot is made from young ash saplings and bound with bonds ('fonds,' 'fronds,' 'thongs,' or 'bonds') of withies (osiers); bramble has been used occasionally in the past. The number of bonds is variable but since the bursting of any one during the burning is a signal to ʻdrink up,' decency and country logic demands a 'reasonable few'. Either five or six are normally used. At the appropriate moment the faggot is placed on the fire, traditionally by the oldest customer-one villager can recall the fag- got being brought in a wheelbarrow as was 'right and proper'-and as each bond bursts there is much cheering and a general clamour for drink. The landlord, Mr John Cousins, prepares a bowl of hot punch for the occasion to augment the barrel of beer usually provided by the house Brewery. Until quite recently cider was consumed in large quantities; the 'brew' of cider and perry donated by the (Langs) Hambridge Brewery in 1957 is particularly remembered. [Willey, 1983: 40]

In the first half of the nineteenth century:

Some towns in Somerset held 'Ashen Faggot Balls'. The one in Taunton on January 2nd, 1826 was 'most respectably attended by the principal families of the town and neighbourhood'. It was still held twenty years later, but by then the event was losing its appeal. [Legg, 1986: 54]

In some parts of southern England ash twigs were carried by children on ASH WEDNESDAY.

In villages around Alton in Hampshire, and as far away as East Meon, near Petersfield, at Crowborough in Sussex, and doubtless in other places, children pick a black-budded twig of ash and put it in their pocket on this day. A child who does not remember to bring a piece of ash to school on Ash Wednesday can expect to have his feet trodden on by every child who possesses a twig, unless, that is, he or she is lucky enough to escape until midday. [Opie, 1959: 240]

I was born and lived as a child in Crowborough . . . On Ash Wednesday it was always the custom to take a piece of the [ash] tree around with you. The piece had to have a black bud, without it it was void. If you were unable to produce the piece when asked the rest of the children could stamp on your toes. I remember one day whan I was playing about with it in school and was told to take it to the front and leave it in the waste- paper basket-and all the way back to the seat had to dodge the stamps! Ever prudent I had another piece for play time! This all stopped at 12 mid-day. [Pershore, Worcester shire, October 1991]

[At Heston, Middlesex, in the 1930s] on Ash Wednesday we all took a twig of ash tree to school and produced it when challenged or risked a kick-and we had to get rid of it at 12 noon. We even risked the wrath of the teacher by rushing to an open window to throw out our twigs as soon as the mid-day dinner bell rang. [St Ervan, Cornwall, February 1992]

A widespread cure for HERNIA involved passing the patient through a split ash sapling, preferably one which had grown naturally from seed and had not previously been damaged by man. The tree was then tightly bound up and as it grew together so the patient would be healed. A full description provided in 1878 by the wife of a Sussex clergyman demonstrates how this cure, which required communal cooperation, was considered to be quite normal:

A child so afflicted must be passed nine times every morning on nine suc- cessive days at sunrise through a cleft in a sapling ash tree, which has been so far given up by the owner of it to the parents of the child as that there is an understanding that it shall not be cut down during the life of the infant that is passed through it. The sapling must be sound of heart, and the cleft must be made with an axe. The child, on being carried to the tree, must be attended by nine persons, each of whom must pass it through the cleft from west to east. On the ninth morning the solemn ceremony is concluded by binding the tree tightly with a cord, and it is supposed that as the cleft closes the health of the child will improve. In the neighbourhood of Petworth some cleft ashes may be seen, through which children have very recently been passed. I may add that only a few weeks since, a person who lately purchased an ash-tree standing in this parish, intended to cut it down, was told by the father of the child who had some time before passed through it, that the infirmity would be sure to return upon his son if it were felled. Whereupon the good man said, he knew such would be the case; and therefore he would not fell it for the world. [Latham, 1878: 40]

Similarly:

A remarkable instance of the extraordinary superstition which still prevails in the rural districts of Somerset has lately come to light at Athelney. It appears that a child was recently born in the neighbourhood with a physical ailment, and the neighbours persuaded the parents to resort to a very novel method of charming away the complaint. A sapling ash was split down the centre, and wedges were inserted so as to afford an opening sufficient for the child's body to pass through without touching either side of the tree. This having been done, the child was undressed, and, with its face held heavenward, it was drawn through the sapling in strict accord- ance with the superstition. Afterwards the child was dressed and simul- taneously the tree was bound up. The belief of those who took part in this strange ceremony is that if the tree grows the child will grow out of its bodily ills. The affair took place at the rising of the sun on a recent Sunday morning, in the presence of the child's parents, several of the neighbours, and the parish police-constable. [Bath and Wells Diocesan Magazine, 1886: 178]

An example ofan ash thus used can be seen in the Somerset Rural Life Museum at Glastonbury. A similar practice could be used to overcome IMPOTENCE.

In Wales the similar ritual was to split a young ash or HAZEL stem and hold it just fastened at the top. This made a symbolic vulva into which the impotent male introduced his recalcitrant organ. Binding up the tree again enabled it to heal, during which the impotence faded. [Richards, 1979: 13]

In Cheshire a cure for WARTS

was to steal a piece of bacon and push it under a piece of ash-bark. Excrescences would then appear on the tree; as they grew, the warts would van- ish. [Hole, 1937: 12]

In Wiltshire sufferers seeking a cure from NEURALGIA were advised:

Cut off a piece of each finger and toe nail and a piece off your hair. Get up on the next Sunday morning before sunrise and with a gimlet bore a hole in the first maiden ash you come across and put the nails and hair in; then plug the hole up. [Whitlock, 1976: 167]

In many areas 'shrew-ashes' were used to cure lameness in cattle and other illnesses. In a letter dated 8 January 1776, Gilbert White of Selborne, Hampshire, wrote:

A shrew-ash is an ash whose twigs or branches, when gently applied to the limbs of cattle, will immediately relieve the pains which a beast suffers from the running of a shrew-mouse over the part affected . . . Against this accident, to which they were continually liable, our provident fore- fathers always kept a shrew-ash at hand, which, once medicated, would maintain its virtue for ever. A shew-ash was made thus:- Into the body of the tree a deep hole was bored with an auger, and a poor devoted shrew- mouse was thrust in alive, and plugged in, no doubt, with several quaint incantations long since forgotten. [White, 1822, I: 344]

In the nineteenth century a particularly well-known shrew-ash in Richmond Park, Surrey. According to the park-keepers' tradition ʻgood Queen Bess had lurked under its shade to shoot deer as they were driven past’ [Ffennell, 1898: 333]. This tree was closely observed by Sir Richard Owen (1804-92), first director of the Natural History Museum in London, who lived near the tree, at Sheen Lodge, from grew 1852.

Either the year he came to live in the park or the year after . . . he first encountered a young mother with a sick child accompanied by 'an old dame', 'a shrew-mother', or, as he generally called her a 'witch-mother'. They were going straight for the tree; but when they saw him, they turned off in quite another direction till they supposed he was out of sight. He, however, struck by their sudden avoidance of him, watched them from a distance, saw them return to the tree, where they remained some little time, as if busily engaged with it; then they went away. He was too far off to hear anything said, but heard the sounds of voices in unison on other occasions. He heard afterwards from the keeper of Sheen Gate... that mothers with 'bewitched' infants, or with young children afficted with WHOOPING COUGH, decline, and other ailments, often came, some- times from long distances, to this tree. It was necessary that they should arrive before sunrise . . . Many children were said to be cured at the tree. The greatest secrecy was always observed when visiting. This was re- spected by Sir Richard Owen, who, whenever he saw a group advanc- ing towards it, moved away, and was always anxious that they should not be disturbed. He could not tell me in what year he last saw a group approach the tree to seek its aid. He could only say he had seen them often, and thought they continued to come for many years. [Ffennell, 1898: 334]

During a recent survey [of Richmond Park] the site of the old shrew ash was identified. This proved to be . . . the spot where an ancient ash still stood in 1987. A sucker from its roots was still alive, although the tree itself was passé. The storm of autumn brought the trunk down. A railing has now been erected around the remains, which are to be left in the ground, and a young ash is to be planted alongside the stump. Presumably it will eventually replace the old tree, but it means that the site at least will remain identifiable. [Kew, Surrey, February 1994]

There uses included curing EARACHE, RINGWORM, and SNAKE BITES.

The sap of a young ash sapling was used to cure earache. A sapling was cut and put into a fire so that when the stick started to burn the sap came out the end and was caught on a spoon. This could be put on cotton wool and put into the ear. [Daingean, Co. Offaly, January 1985]

Ringworm was more common in my childhood . . . a remedy resorted to was to burn ash twigs in a tin box or similar container and allow the smoke from the smouldering twigs to envelop the affected part—usually arms, neck or face. [Larne, Co. Antrim, October 1993]

Ash leaves are used to combat viper bites. When an animal has been bitten farmers boil ash leaves and give the animal the resulting liquid and place the boiled leaves as a poultice on the bite. Works on people too! [Dorchester, Dorset, February 1992]

Ash sticks were used as weapons.

The Joyces are tinkers . . . they are wary and row among themselves. They do have some fierce fights in which the women join in. When they have each others heads well cut with ash plants they settle down and are as friendly as ever. [IFCSS MSS 750: 242, Co. Longford]

Stories relating to Ireland's past tell of fair-day brawls where ash plants were used and blood flowed freely. [Ballymote, Co. Sligo, May 1994]”

—

The Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

by Roy Vickery

[vampiric-daydreams]

Inkling

Jasper x Reader

This is Part 2 of the Jasper miniseries. Here is Part 1.

Summary: After the negative events of the last few weeks, Alice offers an explanation that just doesn’t seem to add up. You believe there is more to the mysterious family that meets the eye.

Word Count: 2,540

Tags: @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @eggmettcullen @scuzmunkie @xcharlottemikaelsonx @oi-itsemily @cacti-succulents-andlesbians @aw0kenangel

A/N: There’s less Jasper in this chapter because a few things needed to happen in this part to keep the ball rolling. As the series progresses, the prerogatives of the Cullens will make more sense.

*

The buzzing chatter surrounding you broke the silence as you sat alone in a local café. It had been raining all day, and the people of Forks sought the solace of a sweet hot chocolate. You shifted in discomfort. Your socks were moist with dirty water you’d collected from splashing through a large puddle on your way in; and the pouring rain made your sleeves cling to your arms. You sat shivering at a corner table, goose bumps scattered across your exposed skin. The welcoming scent of coffee beans comforted you as you waited for your own hot drink to arrive.

A glare from a boy studying on the table beside you caused you to stop fidgeting with the sugar stick between your fingers. “Can you stop tapping?” he asked.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. You put the stick of sugar back in its place and took a deep, steady breath. You rarely met strangers, but lately you’ve been in a weird head space. An anonymous note in your locker had brought you here, requesting a meeting.

“Here you go,” the waitress said as she placed your scalding drink in front of you, the steam swirling from its surface. “And sorry for the wait. It’s always crazy here on these stormy days.”

“Thank you.” You weren’t in the mood for small talk right now. On top of this mystery meeting, you had gotten nowhere with the Cullen stuff. Everything had gone back to normal at school. No glares. No staring. No interacting of any kind. So, when Alice Cullen herself strutted through the door and straight towards you, the shock nearly knocked you over.

Her heeled boots clicked on the wooden floor. Stylishly dressed in an all-black ensemble with a trendy overcoat and a navy-blue scarf; her designer bag hung lavishly from the back of her chair as she slid into her place across from you. She smiled. “Thank you for coming, (Y/N).”

“What- seriously?” It came out louder than you intended, and the boy at the neighbouring table glared at you a second time. You whispered harshly, “I thought you guys were happy pretending I didn’t exist. Or do you have a new assumption to harass me about?”

Alice’s perfectly arched eyebrows formed a frown. “Actually, I came to apologise for our behaviour. Can I buy you a toasted sandwich or something?”

You scoffed. “A toasted sandwich won’t change my mind. What the hell was all of that? Actually, no. Never mind. I’ve been banned from talking to any of you, so I should leave.” Without letting it cool, you sculled your drink. The heat burned your throat as you tried not to wince. You couldn’t make a fool of yourself in front of a Cullen. Not again. You grabbed your phone and your keys and pushed your chair back.

“(Y/N), please. You deserve an explanation for everything.”

“Damn right I do!”

“Please sit and give me a chance to give you that. You’re welcome to leave, but please at least let me start?”

You plopped back down in your chair like a grumpy child and slouched. “Fine. Start.”

“Jasper was the first to notice. He noticed not long after the school year had started, but he mentioned nothing to us. Not that he needed to, he had no intentions - no offence.” You rolled your eyes. She swallowed. “But when Edward saw the way you looked at Jasper, he put it together. He’s gifted at reading people, and he felt you were getting too attached–”

“That was no-one’s assessment to make.” Your tongue still burned from your drink.

Alice nodded. “You’re right. It wasn’t. But Edward sees things in people… Often his own opinions and ideals surrounding certain topics will cloud his judgement. He mentioned his interpretation to Emmett in passing, who repeated it to Rosalie with different details. By the time I’d heard any of it, it sounded like you were plotting to separate us, which was why I was upset. I’m sorry, (Y/N). If I had known you had no intentions of actually breaking us up, I would have made them stop. No, I should have made them stop regardless of what I thought. Being a family for so long, we’re protective of each other. But I shouldn’t have let it reach the point that it did.”

The sugar stick once again found its way to your fingers as you stared at the girl in front of you. “Why are you telling me this?” It just didn’t sound right, despite Alice’s insistence. 

“Because I’ve seen how hurt you were by it, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself or believe you’re not worthy of receiving love. We behaved like a bunch of callous bullies. We’re sorry and so is Jasper.” A hard prick stabbed at your chest.

“It’s whatever. There isn’t anything we can do about it now. What’s done is done, right?”

“Jasper wanted to come and apologise to you in person, but he was afraid. He’s quite empathetic, which is why he couldn’t bear to talk to you yet. Even Edward-”

Edward. “He was right, in a way. While I had no intention to do something that would hurt you or make Jasper leave you, I certainly thought about what it would be like if he was mine. It just seems like a big jump to make.” Alice’s brown eyes twitched as they widened. “He assumed I thought about something and then launched into action against me–and you say he’s good at reading people? It just all seems a little weird.”

“Yes, our parents had a word with Edward about jumping to conclusions like that. He just didn’t want to see me get hurt. Jasper in particular feels terrible about how he handled everything.” You feigned interest as she tried to deflect your attention with Jasper’s name. “He thought reminding you of his love for me would make you change your mind about him, and when that didn’t work his first instinct was to shut you out. This should be coming from him, not me, but please understand that he regrets how his behaviour translated. And (Y/N), we all want to apologise to you. You’re allowed to talk to us, you know. We don’t bite. And the others are too ashamed to speak to you themselves without being approached first. Will you give us a chance to make it right?”

If you were ever getting a shot at finding out what they were hiding, this was it. 

You smiled sweetly, “I’d prefer it much better if we did that.”

Alice returned your smile, her kohl-lined eyes lighting up. “Remember, there’s no rush. After what happened, you don’t owe us anything. Take as long as you need.”

You nodded your head. “I will.”

 *

 For the first time in weeks, you arrived at school with a smile and something to look forward to. From the moment you entered the campus, you took the precaution to not actively think about your intention to dig deeper. It still seemed ridiculous, and you were sure you’d be cringing at yourself later on–but the circumstances were just too weird to you.

You spent the better half of the morning surrounded by your friend group, not ready to branch out and find the Cullens just yet. If they were as sorry as Alice had made them sound, they could stew in it for a while longer. You had already planned which order you intended to approach them in, too. Emmett would be first, as he seemed the least threatening. Next was Rosalie, and lastly Edward, who was the root cause of all of this.

You weren’t ready to go anywhere near Jasper.

The bell rang, and your group said their goodbyes as they went to their lockers. You fumbled with the combination lock on yours and gritted your teeth when it wouldn’t open. “Pretty sure the code hasn’t changed since yesterday,” a deep voice sounded from your right. Emmett. This was wrong; it was supposed to be you approaching them.

“Well I’ve had a rough few weeks.” You shot back. His wide smile faltered for a moment before shrinking away.

“I’m sorry about my contribution to that.” He spoke softer than usual. His eyes were the same warm gold as Jasper’s. Were they biologically related? Wait. No thoughts on campus.

“Yeah, the entire thing really sucked for me.”

“I didn’t want you to feel the way you did. I knew it wasn’t right. That excuses nothing, but I don’t want any bad blood between us. I’m really not that kind of guy.” His expression seemed genuine.

“You could have fooled me.” It came out before you could stop it. “Wait, no. Emmett I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair-”

“No, I get it.”

“No, you don’t. You did nothing. You didn’t even glare. I can’t be this mad at you.”

“I did nothing. That’s the problem. I let it blow out of proportion and by the time it got there, I couldn’t reign it back in. Alice gave you an idea of what happened, right? If I had kept my mouth shut after speaking with Edward, none of this would have happened.”

“If you had relayed the correct details and factored in Edward’s theatrics, none of this would have happened.” Rosalie appeared what seemed like out of thin air. You were sure you hadn’t seen her hovering nearby. Her warm brown eyes met your nervous gaze. You hadn’t been ready for any Cullens yet. “I’m sorry, too. You did nothing to warrant that reaction from us. I’m sorry for allowing myself to jump to those sorts of conclusions before you had even decided anything.”

If you had blinked, you would have missed Emmett nudging Rosalie with his elbow. No thoughts on campus. At least one storm was ending. Rosalie’s welcoming smile was not a sight you’d ever thought you’d see; and it was a clear sign that the discomfort would be over soon. But there were things - subtle things that didn’t always add up.

“I guess we’re cool then,” you said. You looked up at the couple properly. Although they didn’t compare to Jasper, they were both so attractive it was frustrating. It was the first time you’d seen them up close. Rosalie had the healthiest-looking flaxen hair you’d ever seen; and they both had such amazing skin. Neither of them had a single blemish to show. In fact, you recalled that Alice had pretty flawless skin as well—and Jasper’s complexion always looked so perfect. It was as if it blessed their entire family—which was even stranger because… Stop, just in case.

They were both smiling. Emmett reached out his hand for you to shake. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

“Thank you for letting us apologise,” said Rosalie, as the last bell rang and the hallway emptied. It wasn’t like they’d given you much of a choice.

 *

 Jasper had done nothing specifically to attract your attention. All he did was stroll over to his locker. But even just walking, the way he carried himself, how almost seemed to glide, never failed to knock the wind out of you. You caught his attention though, by staring, and he immediately looked at you. His bored expression suddenly drenched in regret. The negative feelings from the last few weeks consumed you; the humiliation, how repulsive you felt you were to him. There was an empty feeling in your chest, and as his apologetic amber eyes beckoned you over to him. Your legs moved before you could stop them.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk yet,” Jasper pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket. “But if you change your mind, call me?”

You clenched the paper tightly as it transferred from his fingers to yours, and your heart fluttered. Your mind went blank as you tried to respond. Open-mouthed and wide-eyed, you resembled a fish. Quickly, you turned away from him and walked back in the direction you came from. Your cheeks were burning as you continued to walk; thankful as you rounded the corner for not stumbling, but less enthused to see another Cullen in front of you. Alice. Again.

You knew it would continue to hurt you if you compared yourself to her; but she just looked so damn good all the time. If any of the Cullens were devastatingly beautiful, it was Alice - with emphasis on ‘devastating’. And the worst part of it was how nice she was trying to be to you. It was easier to soldier on when you could pretend she didn’t exist.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” She smiled kindly, eyebrows raised. You looked at her forehead, her skin didn’t wrinkle. It never did. She must have had some work done.

“S-Sorry, Alice,” you stammered, “I’m in a hurry.”

You picked up pace and rushed by her, taking refuge in the bathroom. She didn’t follow. You let out a sigh. You had come close to thinking again. You still scoffed at the idea that they could read minds or something, but you continued to guard your thoughts, anyway; and when you saw Alice’s eyes, one nearly slipped out. They were definitely much lighter yesterday, like chocolate - you were sure of it. Just then, they looked almost black.

It was driving you crazy. Tears began forming, but you refused to let them fall. Not over this. Not over something you were imagining. Jasper’s eyes flashed in your mind. That rich golden colour… When you’d first started liking him, you recalled Googling if his eyes were even possible and learning they were, but that they were rare; and for Emmett to share them as well was strange.

You bolted out of the bathroom and grabbed a random student passing by. She jolted from the shock of it. “Which of the Cullens are biologically related?” You sounded so aggressive, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

She chewed her bubble gum a few times and gave you a dumbfounded look before frowning at you. “Jasper and Rosalie Hale, obviously. What the hell is wrong with you?” She jerked her arm out of your grasp and shot daggers at you.

Unrelated, both with a scarce eye-colour. They seem to know what you’re thinking. They all look the same; pallid and tired-looking, yet alluring. You couldn’t stop yourself from going over the details.

You sprinted out into the parking lot, nearly knocking a guy down the stairs on your way. Before you could restrain yourself, you’d pulled a pen and a notebook out from your backpack and your hand began writing.

Wednesday. Alice, brown. 

Thursday. Alice, black. Rosalie, brown. Emmett, gold. Jasper, gold. 

[cordeliaflyte]

Would love to know your thoughts on the rutger bregman book when you finish it!!!

dearest merle! it took me months to answer this ask - something i'm ashamed of - but i finally got around to finishing the book today.

the below is a condensed version of the ten pages of notes i took while reading it, which are rather chaotic and repetitive at points - but in my defence, bregman repeated his own arguments too.

one of the main arguments that bregman makes is that "evil" or "immorality" - which we'll define as causing unnecessary harm - are rarely caused by the individual, but rather the society they live in. i agree - nothing exists in a vacuum. however, society, as a nebulous concept, isn't imposed on us by some imperceptible power - it is crafted by people. people in society have different levels of power, and the harm they can cause to others is directly proportional to said power - but be it on a micro or macro scale, our actions have an impact on others and while they are influenced by the society we live in, we must nonetheless strive to minimise the harm we cause - and few of us do.

bregman illustrates many of his arguments with heartwarming stories about people coming together in times of crisis - take, for example, natural disasters - and overcoming adversity, selflessly looking out for their neighbours. but crisis very often leads to the creation of divisions, an us vs them mentality, and a complete disregard for the safety of others. the current pandemic is a prime example - see the widening of class differences, the rise in racist hate crimes, and people refusing to take safety precautions because they are inconvenient to them.

another argument repeated quite often throughout the book is the fact that media cherry-picks the most sensationalistic and senseless acts of death and despair, because human suffering is simply more interesting that the mundane - people talking to friends, creating art, laughing and learning. again, i agree with him - many of the more tabloid-adjacent news outlets would have you believe that the everyday norm is dismembered heiresses being found on riverbeds and charming, precocious children being held for ransom in tiny basements. the news doesn't often focus on the mundane - but the mundane isn't just love and work and friendship and boredom and chores, it is also, for billions of people around the world, sexual violence, familial abuse, workplace and housing discrimination, etc. these things aren't sensationalistic either - they're frightfully common, frightfully boring, and thus, they're rarely reported on.

throughout his book, bregman mentions that when he told people what he was working on, they approached the idea that humans are good with a large dose of cynicism, simply because we are raised to believe humans are selfish (which isn't the case worldwide, not all cultures are individualistic). they pick the easier choice - accepting the image of the world and their fellow humans that they are presented with at face value. i'd argue that it is the tendency of humans to pick the easier choice, to obey, to avoid challenging their worldview that leads to - for a lack of better term - immorality (see definition in point 1).

often, when bregman presents his feel good stories about people cooperating in adversity, he also mentions troubling details that, again, show undue harm being done. one of the examples he used were six boys from tonga, aged 13 to 16, who were shipwrecked on an island, and instead of descending into a "lord of the flies" style madness, they built their small community on the basis of communication and cooperation, never resorting to violence, and acting mature beyond their years. after a year spent on the island, they were rescued - and promptly arrested, an event which was probably racially motivated. and the reason they were shipwrecked in the first place was attempting to flee their school, where, according to their reports, they were neglected.

bregman contrasted the example of the boys forming a peaceful society on a small island with the chaos that always ensues when adults in reality shows are put in similar situations. the contestants are pitted against each other by the show runners, who seek to frustrate them and make them lose control for the amusement of the audience. whenever contestants try to cooperate, form a mutually beneficial society for a short while - a radical idea - they are punished. "goodness" - i.e. harm reduction - and radical thought being punished just don't seem like particularly helpful examples for the "humans are inherently good" thesis

bregman seems to be a big fan of primitivism, constantly citing civilisation as a source of harm - a position i'm always sceptical about, because personally i love vaccines and dental care, but i know this is a knee-jerk reaction and bregman isn't plotting a return to a land without dentists. but what i do take ire at is the idea that humans are somehow "corrupt" versions of their natural selves and that our lives have grown too complicated, and only a return to "primitive" society can return us to the aforementioned natural selves.

tied to the previous point - his arguments remind me of the "noble savage"'... archetype? he seems to paint a picture of "primitive" indigenous people as role models for those "corrupted" by civilisation, who in turn must be saved by a return to their "purer" selves, instead of individuals with flaws and agency.

speaking on indigenous populations - bregman also invokes the inhabitants of the easter islands. for a long time, the world at large believed that a hundred years or so before colonization, the islanders effectively perpetrated a genocide, killing off a large proportion of their population - a claim which was later disproven. yay! humans can live in peaceful societies without committing genocide, and thus, are not inherently evil! disregarding the fact that european colonists later massacred a large part of the islands population, and sold most of the survivors into slavery?

i was very excited for one of the chapters, entitled "after auchschwitz". i was interested how bregman would reconcile his argument with the tragedies of the twentieth century - the holocaust, but also genocide, and to a lesser extent war in general.

(this chapter, i might add, was preceded by a quote by anne frank - you know the one, about the inherent goodness of people. i was hoping that bregman would comment on the fact that anne wrote the quote before she and her family were sent to a concentration camp)

so you can imagine my surprise when the chapter was not, in fact, about concentration camps or genocide. but rather about. unethical 70s sociological experiments.

no really! a chapter titled "after auchschwitz" was, in fact, primarily about the stanford prison experiment. an experiment that was, granted, inspired by concentration camps, but still. it's misleading to invoke "real", large scale violence, and focus instead on "simulated", small scale violence.

we all know that the stanford prison experiment was, as far as experiments go, rubbish to legendary degrees. it doesn't prove anything - but it does, perhaps, show that people under large psychological duress are capable of evil, even when they themselves are not "evil".

it is, i'd argue, the human tendency to obey authority and especially to conform to societies standards that poses the largest danger. disobedience is man's original virtue and whatnot.

and when he does briefly refer to concentration camps, bregman treats them like a very 1940s phenomenon, disregarding the fact that they have been around for much longer and still exist today.

in cases like that one experiment with electric shocks. you know the one. do not, perhaps, show an innate tendency to violence, but rather people succumbing to pressure. but history is full of unprovoked instances of violence, of pogroms and lynchings. there is usually an instigator, yes, but judging from reports, people in the right mindset don't need much persuading to butcher other people.

also re: electric shock experiment - those who thought they gave the assistant lethal shocks showed extreme guilt and some even cried but like... so what? what use is a conscience if it doesn't stop you from, to your knowledge, killing someone? are your feelings really more important than your actions?

he doesn't say this, but a lot of the arguments he presents do seem to boil down to "people aren't evil, they're just stupid!" which doesn't sound more encouraging, i'm afraid.

an alternative takeaway would be "people are good, unless they have power" - which isn't exactly a radical, revolutionary idea. most people have heard the maxim "power corrupts". but the thing is that almost everyone holds some amount power over others - the oppressed factory worker in a poor nation who works 12 hours a day for pittance might still execute power over his wife, who relies on him for money, and she in turn might hold power over her children, and so forth. and that power is often used to cause undue harm and exercise control.

he criticises machiavellianism, saying it doesn't reflect how society works, and one of his proofs is that his philosophies were espoused by bismarck, churchill, and stalin - hardly admirable figures in terms of (you guessed it!) causing harm. but i don't see how that discredits machiavelli? like all of the above were very succesful

and he keeps repeating the primitivism argument throughout the book which gets tiring. like i'm truly sorry you were born in the last 5% of human existence thus far when, in your opinion, humanity started going to the shits, but it's getting a bit tiring

he cites money and nations as concepts as harbingers of the current (negative) state of humanity, saying they're very recent concepts and have no basis in reality. they're artificial concepts, sure, but their effect is very much real, and while achieving a nation-less, money-less society is possible on a small scale, i think that at this point they are such large aspects of life that reigning them in seems impossible.

and invokes the noble savage again and again, showing himself in favour of tribal societies, depicting them as egalitarian - i'm sure many of them are, but many also have a strict hierarchy or like. practice fgm. once more he seems to treat tribal people as a monolith of goodness as opposed to... people.

he also cites prehistoric people, their egalitarianism and low rates of violence but. forgive me for my ignorance because i did not research this. how do people know. doesn't the definition of prehistory include a lack of records??

he also mentions that in small, tribal societies, conformism can be a good thing, as it makes people act for the communal good. this is another knee-jerk reaction of mine but i think of conformism as society's most significant vice, so this strikes very much against my beliefs

later on, he also says reproduction is another proof of humanities goodness. perhaps it's a controversial opinion, but i disagree. i find it hard to find reasons for reproduction that aren't egoistic. it's survival instinct, sure, but it's not an "inherently noble pursuit".

later yet, he brings up schools which grant large degrees of freedom to students and shows how they're good for developing their minds. this might be a me thing but i know from experience that when i'm granted freedom without structure, i do nothing - though perhaps that speaks ill of me, and not humanity.

there have, in fact, been many studies on schools like this being helpful to student development and i certainly won't argue with them - but let me nit-pick. bregman says that fewer students have adhd in these schools, as it is a condition caused by being locked inside a room all day which is not only offensive, but also just plain wrong

and also while showing how granting children freedom lets them develop (which i naturally agree with) he brings up that "dangerous playground" study. you know the one. this isn't a coherent argument, this is just my bias speaking , but as a child, i promise i had no desire to play with rusty nails in abandoned warehouses. i liked my boring playgrounds with wooden swings.

then there is a chapter on communism and how it could be a remedy to societies ailments. but bregman and i seem to operate on very different definitions of communism. he naturally starts with saying maoist china and stalinist russia and cambodia under pol pot weren't really communist which... sure, if you want to argue semantics, i'm all for it, but it's an old and essentially useless argument. if "real communism" has never been tried (as the author claims) - why?

and then we pass to perhaps the most bizarre fragment of the book. paraphrasing only slightly: "but why are we now so opposed to the word communism? when we pass each other salt at the dinner table, is that not communism? when we selflessly hold a door open for someone, is that not communism?" i.... no?? no it's not. that's not what communism is girl stop

he then also says facebook is actually communist in many ways since a lot of its value comes from photos people willingly share for free. i could not make this up if i tried.

i think that in most terms i agree with bregman on policy - direct democracy, school and prison systems, changes to the criminal justice system - and our reasoning is partially similar, but i don't think the information we both have access to proves that humans are inherently good.

and then come perhaps my least favourite arguments because i for one am a spiteful bitch but yes. it is time for christian ethics 101 and turning the other cheek.

he cites ghandi and mlk as examples of turning the other cheek working. i think ghandi went too far with his policy, what with saying "jews ought to have marched silently to their deaths or committed mass suicide to make nazis feel ashamed" and like. we do remember they killed mlk, right?

as an example of turning the other cheek, he cites humane prisons in norway, where prisoners are granted much larger freedoms than usual and are on equal footing with the guards, who aren't armed and act more as councillors. i don't really see how this is an example of turning the other cheek, though - the guards are not the victims of the inmates (it was a prison for violent offenders - many of them murderers). i agree with him that prisons, if they must exist, should treat inmates humanely and with respect, but i don't see how this relates to the turning of the cheek. statistically, many of these men probably murdered their mates in a drunken dispute, or killed their wives - and i don't think turning the other cheek would have helped their victims.

he also cites south africa in the sixties as an example of turning the other cheek, when anti-apartheid activists would meet up with pro-apartheid activists and talk - this included nelson mandela who had frequent talks with the leader of a white supremacist paramilitary organisation of afrikaners staunchly opposed to black south africans getting the vote. and it worked - the man, whose aim was starting a civil war, relented. but racism isn't a simple matter that can simply be solved by talking. and it is often a pragmatic policy which i don't disparage, but turning the other cheek and having to treat someone who refuses to acknowledge your humanity with an exorbitantly disproportionate amount of respect is inherently degrading.

skipping ahead, in the epilogue bregman lists ten rules he tries to live by, and one of them is, i shit you not, "don't punch nazis". and punching nazis doesn't stop them from being nazis, but turning the other cheek gets people killed

the rise of fascism is perhaps one the largest threats we are dealing with and fascists are not just isolated and misinformed (and in this day and age, ignorance is a choice). they are dangerous.

this is by no means an essay or an exhaustive list, just a slightly chaotic and much overdue collection of opinions which i don't know how to put under a read more. take care <3

[gstqaobc]

FROM THE MONARCHIST LEAGUE OF CANADA

As this Ecomm went to publication, we received word of the death, at the great age of 96, of Bill Silver, a significant benefactor of the League from its early days, and for many years a pillar of our Ottawa Branch.  We wished to remember him here: his ebullient spirit, fierce loyalty spoken gently, innate modesty and kindness.  Indeed Chaucer might have had forethought of Bill in describing one of his characters as a “very parfitt gentle knight.” May his ardent spirit rest in peace, and his memory be a blessing and example to us all.   LEAGUE ISSUES NEW FLYER: THE CASE FOR THE CROWN The League thought it timely and useful to issue, offer in its advertising and distribute as widely as possible - both via the website and in printed form - a new flyer which will give you, our members, ammunition to argue logically the case for the Crown in conversation with others, and, we hope, to distribute strategically. One never knows when such an item, left on a waiting room table at the doctor or dentist’s office, affixed to a supermarket or other community bulletin board, put through neighbours’ mail slots - the possibilities are many - will do good work for our cause. We hope you will both enjoy and profit from this item, and that many thousands will be distributed across the country. See item one in the WHAT CAN I DO FOR THE CANADIAN CROWN? section of this Ecomm, below, to read online and request printed copies.   And special thanks to our wonderful team of no less than seven translators, all francophones from La Belle Province, who so kindly volunteered to make the French version one that is accurate in expression and eloquent in its prose. ��                   WHAT CAN I DO FOR THE CANADIAN CROWN? Some suggestions for member activity during these times. We invite members to send additional ideas by return of email. 1.    How about asking the League to send you several print copies of our new flyer:  THE CASE FOR THE CROWN, or print them on your home computer:  https://www.monarchist.ca/index.php/publications and give them to others who may be unaware or sceptical of the importance of Canada’s constitutional monarchy, or even hostile to it. School teachers could be encouraged to read the League’s educational booklets, also available both online and in print at the same URL, or even to request a class set.   2.    When you read an editorial, opinion column or letter to the editor in a newspaper, or a tweet or Facebook post, critical of the Crown, don’t get mad - get even! In other words, use a temperate tone and logical argument to refute the writer’s attack.  Keep it brief: focus on the obvious flaws in reasoning, mis-statements of fact or name-calling substituting for logic.  Same goes for radio talk shows. In the long run, on all media, whatever the provocation, whatever the momentary satisfaction of ”giving them a piece of my mind” - an old adage remains true: “You catch more flies with honey.” 3.    Write your elected representative at the federal level to re-state briefly the reasons you support constitutional monarchy as our system of government,  and asking the MP whether not your view is shared. 4.    Once pandemic restrictions ease, try to make sure that Royal events - such as the upcoming 95th birthday of our Queen, 10th Wedding Anniversary of William and Catherine or 100th birthday of Prince Philip are celebrated both in your home but also among your wider family, your friends, your colleagues at the office,  your place of worship/faith community or service club. The League generally sends you some ideas to mark these celebrations. Remember, as they are incorporated into family life and public life, the     Crown becomes further embedded in the heart of the nation, and truly represents The Queen’s wish that it ”reflects all that is best and most admired in the Canadian ideal.” This is especially true when you go out of your way to include in your observance the newest members of our Canadian family, who generally are eager to participate in the traditions of their new homeland, and in turn to share their own traditions with the wider community. 5.    Always use a Queen stamp when you write a letter or pay a bill by mail. 6.     At events of ceremony, whether a Council meeting, a graduation, a civic celebration - whatever - make sure that the Royal Anthem is sung as well as the National Anthem. To the extent you can, discourage event organizers from having a soloist “perform” them. Far more pride and         learning develop from the untrained voices of loyal folk singing together. In that way, the Anthems are sung “with heart and voice” and not merely listened to.   A FINAL IDEA: AN ACT OF LOVING SUPPORT & THANKS Apart from the above, we think it would be enormously comforting and supportive for every one of us to  write a kind letter to The Queen, expressing your thoughts at a difficult time: her beloved husband ailing, a grand-child chiding other family members via sensational television, the drumbeat of the tabloids and the restrictions on her busy life caused by the pandemic.  A selection of letters, especially those from Commonwealth Realms, are indeed seen by The Queen - and their number and tone are summarized to Her Majesty. The address is - Her Majesty The Queen, Buckingham Palace, London SW1A 1AA, UK Theoretically you don’t need postage to write the Sovereign; in practice, it is safer to affix the international airmail stamp available from your local Canada Post outlet.   AN INTERESTING OPINION PIECE FROM TODAY’S DAILY TELEGRAPHWe thought you might be interested to see the following strongly-worded opinion piece, reflecting a good deal of the tone of recent British public opinion, rather different from much of the Canadian and US commentary. Meghan’s fake interview has real-world effects The Sussexes’ claims have undermined the monarchy and done lasting damage to the Commonwealth by Tim Stanley, March 15, 2021 Two headlines appeared on the BBC News website on the same day. At the top: “Harry and Meghan rattle monarchy’s gilded cage”. At the bottom: “The kidnapped woman who defied Boko Haram”. Well, that puts the Sussexes' problems in perspective, doesn’t it? Yet across Africa, one reads, the Duchess’s story has revived memories of colonial racism, tarnishing the UK’s reputation, and has even lent weight to the campaign in some countries to drop the Queen as head of state. The only nation that seems to think a lot of nonsense was spoken is Britain. In the wake of an interview that Joe Biden’s administration called courageous, British popular opinion of Harry and Meghan fell to an all-time low, and the American format had a lot to do with it. Oprah Winfrey is not our idea of an interviewer. She flattered, fawned and displayed utter credulity. Imagine if it had been her, not Emily Maitlis, who interviewed Prince Andrew over the Jeffrey Epstein allegations. “You were in a Pizza Express that day? Oh my God, you MUST be innocent! Tell me, in all honesty, though...did you have the dough balls?” This wasn’t an interview, it was a commercial for a brand called Sussex, a pair of eco-friendly aristo-dolls that, if you pull the string, tell their truth – which isn’t the truth, because no one can entirely know that, but truth as they perceive it. “Life is about storytelling,” explained Meghan, “about the stories we tell ourselves, the stories we’re told, what we buy into.” Meghan is a postmodernist. Just as Jean Baudrillard said the Gulf War never happened, but was choreographed by the US media, so the Royal narrative she was forced to live was fake, her public happiness was fake and, following that logic, this interview might involve an element of performance, too. People have challenged her claims, alleging contradictions and improbabilities, but one of the malign effects of wokeness is that you have got to be very careful about pointing this out. Why? Because wokery insists on treating a subjective view as objective truth, or even as superior, because it’s based upon “lived experience”. To contradict that personal perspective is perceived as cruel, elitist and, in Meghan’s case, potentially racist, so it’s best to wait a few weeks to a year before applying a fact check. In the meantime, affect sympathy. People would rather you lied to their face than tell them what they don’t want to hear. The result is profoundly dishonest, for I have never known an event over which there is such a gulf between the official reception, as endorsed by the media and politics, and the reaction of average citizens, who are wisely keeping it to themselves. Into that vacuum of silence steps not the voice of reason but bullies and showmen – like Piers Morgan, who said some brash stuff about Meghan’s honesty and, after an unseemly row on Good Morning Britain, felt obliged to resign from his job.  “If you’d like to show your support for me,” he wrote afterwards, “please order a copy of my book.” Dear Lord, was this row fake, too? I can no longer be sure, though I despised Good Morning Britain before and still do: it embodies the cynical confusion of emotion and fact, a show made for clicks, where even the weatherman has an opinion. So what is real in 2021? The Commonwealth, which does a lot of good in a divided world. The monarchy, which has been at its best during the pandemic, doing the boring stuff of cutting ribbons and thanking workers that, one suspects, Meghan never grew into (can you imagine her opening a supermarket in Beccles?). It contains flawed people, but that only adds to its realness, and they can adapt faster than you might think. Prince William got the ball rolling by telling reporters, who he is trained to ignore, that his family is not racist. His wife paid her respects to the murder victim Sarah Everard, demonstrating that she is neither cold nor silenced. I’d wager Kate does her duty, day after day, no complaint, not because she is “trapped”, as Harry uncharitably put it, but because she loves her family and believes in public service. Meghan and Harry have indeed prompted the Royal family to change: not in order to endorse their criticisms, however, but to answer them.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

[arabhamlet]

why you should read the heartless divine

hello guys! i haven’t used tumblr in a while, so i hope i tag this correctly, but i really needed to write this post to promote a book i think many, many people will enjoy reading for a number of reasons, and i figured i should give it a shot.

the heartless divine is varsha ravi’s debut novel, self-published last november through amazon. it is a ya fantasy romance inspired by mythology and sangam era india, and you can purchase it as an ebook or as a physical copy on amazon.

i 100% recommend it to anyone who enjoys mythology, reincarnation/soulmates, tragic but tender star-crossed romance (and not in a generic ya way either), or just anything with complex plot, character, and relationships—which, i realize, basically means everyone, but in my defence it is really good and worth a read no matter who you are.

what’s it about?

the heartless divine follows two paralleling narratives. the first is set in the distant past, and follows suri, a princess forced into being an assassin by her warlike family, as she is betrothed to the boy king of a neighbouring land after being assigned the task to kill him once the wedding is complete, only to find her plans going off-kilter when she encounters kiran, a strange prophet who predicts his own incoming death and the catastrophe soon to occur. the second is set in modern-day, and follows a reincarnated suri, with no memories of her past life, who finds her life inexplicably tied to a changed kiran, who she does not remember but who remembers her.

the plot is a bit more complex than this, and this is really just a quick summary, but more than that it’s a story about humans and our relationships to each other, to mortality, and to fate.

i highly recommend it - it can be a little slow to start off with, but once the historical plot starts going i found it pretty much impossible to put down. even though it’s been a few months since i read it, i find myself going back to it pretty much constantly. it’s fantastic both as a ya novel to read for fun, and as something far more complex with so many themes, characters, and dynamics to unpack.

but if you need a bit more encouragement:

why should i read it?

as i mentioned, the plot is incredibly engaging. unlike a lot of ya, as well, the heartless divine is super character-based and has incredibly strong characters in its protagonists. the past storyline also has a running mystery - and the reveal at the end as to who is the real villain definitely caught me off-guard on my first read. the past storyline is also deeply tragic in many ways, hitting you emotionally to great effect, and the climax is absolutely one of the most impactful climaxes of any ya book i’ve ever read—i’m making an effort not to spoil anything while writing this, because the pure emotional punch of the climax should be read completely blind.

ravi’s writing is absolutely gorgeous. she has an incredible command over the written word and wrote some incredibly amazing prose in this book. her writing is at once poetic and also incredibly versatile, fitting into beautiful romantic declarations and sharp dialogue and tense scenes of conflict. i won’t include any massive chunks, but here are some of my favourite lines:

Where does the divinity go, then? he had asked her. She had shrugged. To the sky. That is where all divinity goes after it is dead. But the sky was too far away, and there was not enough left of him, divine or not, to guarantee safe passage on a trip so long.

She had always been afraid of hope, in the same way she figured most people were afraid of black holes. Desire was something that consumed, she knew, and to desire impossibility was to let it consume you entirely. hearts splintered with love and splintered with loss, and to fear one was to fear both—it was safer to resist them both, to draw thick, black demarcations in shining permanent marker, explicit, clear lines that gently reminded her of what could and could not be desired.

“You live as though you are already dead,” she whispered. each word sunk into him, cut through his heart with clean, sharp blades. “You live as though your life is nothing but a prerequisite for death, for true purpose. Have you ever fought to stay alive? Have you ever allowed yourself to think of life as something to love?”

They had the same fine boned face, hollow-cheeked and haunted, the same air of a saint that had burnt away to nothing and held the ashes himself. And yet, they were not the same. It was a twisted, imperfect projection—it was him, but not all of him. This was his savage divinity laid bare.

What were love stories but dreams of worlds where the sun and moon could linger beside one another long enough to learn the language of the other’s heart?

ravi also has an incredible grasp on the themes that she’s writing with. above all, the heartless divine is about humanity and what makes people human—our relationships with each other and with our own place in the world. and in my opinion, she expresses these ideas with great maturity and wisdom.

however, for the most part, the heartless divine’s greatest strength is its characters. kiran is a deeply complex character, a prophet caught between his duty to die as a martyr and his desire to make his own choices and follow what he truly loves. he has a complicated relationship to humanity, but no human more than himself, as he struggles to understand the parameters of his own humanity—the place where his mortality ends and his divinity begins. at first, the kiran of the past and the kiran of the present seem deeply separated from each other, but as the story progresses you begin to understand the tragedy of how kiran became who he is in the modern-day.

at first, suri seems like a typical ya female protagonist, but as the story progresses and she begins to let her guard down a bit more, you really start to see how interesting and complicated she is as a character. she doesn’t believe in gods or fate at the beginning of either storyline, but by the end she slowly starts to accept hope into her heart—ending in two very different ways—and advocates for ignoring fate and following the life you want, desperately searching for the happy ending that you deserve. she also has a deeply captivating character voice, and was, certainly at the beginning, my favourite of the three pov characters.

but my personal favourite character is viro, the primary antagonist of the past plotline (though—no major spoilers—he finally makes an appearance in the modern plotline very close to the end). most people i know who have read the heartless divine feel similarly about viro. ravi makes him a deeply compelling character, fleshing out his motivations and reasoning and in turn writing one of my favourite relationships in the book in his complex brotherly relationship with kiran. i don’t want to spoil much about him, but he is a really interesting character and, though technically the antagonist, is just as compelling as the protagonists.

on the same note, before i talk about the romance in the book, i have to mention viro and kiran’s dynamic, as i feel it drives the past plot in many ways and is deeply interesting. the two are adoptive brothers, and find themselves butting heads almost constantly over their different ideological stances; and though it’s clear they love each other, soon enough you start to worry if love is enough.

onto the romance, and of course i have to talk about suri and kiran, because—how could i not. they’re literal soulmates! two souls who find each other in every lifetime! they’re kindred spirits no matter what, in both past and present, two people who understand each other deeply on a metaphysical level, and no matter what their scenes together were a great joy. they’re a romance where both of them help each other grow, even when surrounded by chaos and catastrophe. here’s one of my favourite lines in the book in case you need some more explanation. this is romance.

“‘Love is dangerous, blinding,’” he quoted, voice soft against her cheeks in an empty semblance of amusement. He pulled back slightly, just enough that she could see the gentleness, the raw warmth in his gaze. The clean lack of regret. “And yet, I see you so clearly.”

it’s perhaps less explicit—but bear in mind this is the first book in a series—but ravi also sets up the dynamic between viro and his guard, companion, and best friend tarak in a way that...is practically impossible not to read as romantic. i won’t spoil it because it is something you have to see in person, but some of the most emotionally charged scenes in the novel deal with their dynamic. here’s another line for good measure. they really said we do it for the girls and the tenderyearning gays that’s it.

Tarak let out a ragged sigh, lost and despairing. Viro reached up and put a hand on his, traced the lines of his fingers. he watched him do it, entranced by the movement and saddened by it as well. Finally, he asked, “If I begged, would you stay?” Viro’s fingers stilled in their movement, suddenly hyper-aware of the way Tarak’s hands shook upon the embroidered fabric of his tunic. as if he couldn’t bear to hold him tighter, as if the mere action would wrench him away.

the world building is also incredibly well done, as is the mythology ravi sets up and the folk stories she tells. also, for good measure, ravi is an indian writer and her story is, as aforementioned, deeply inspired by sangam india. i don’t necessarily have the cultural context to interact with the worldbuilding completely, but from where i stand it’s immensely well done.

the second book in the series is currently being written, and i recommend picking up your copy of the heartless divine soon before the series continues. once again, it’s available on amazon, and here is its page on goodreads and thestorygraph in case you want to add it to your tbr!

also, for good measure, shoot me a message here or on twitter (where i normally am) if you do decide to read it and want to discuss it! for good measure, here’s one of my favourite lines from the book—just as a closing statement.

“I want to hear all of your stories,” she said, fierce as fire. “Every single one. I don’t care whether they have happy endings or not.”

[guccibootyellow]

So, I will most likely be finishing Vol.3 mid-August rather than end of July as I thought because I am currently in training for 2 jobs and it’s taken up more time than I thought lmao. Since you’ve got another month to wait, here’s a snippet of something that’s coming up. Hopefully, it’s okay. 

......

Penny did not hesitate in telling her- “We are organising a dance!”

“A dance?”

“We were hoping to hire the assembly rooms,” she chattered, excitably. “It would be inappropriate to host a dance at Bonnie’s, considering how little she knows everyone. We have the means and the room here, but you know how mother shall like it. Well, I know how you shall like it too...”

“Not very well. People never leave when they should and the manor is always in a state of dishevelment once the morning comes.”

“So, the assembly rooms appear to be the most appropriate option. We could invite all of our friends, those who Bonnie knows too.”

“Hosting a ball is not quite the capital idea that you believe it to be; there is too much to be done and it is an unnecessary stress, one that I can hardly handle at this moment in time.”

“It will be a joyous occasion!” Penny contended, frowning across at her. “It shall... You know it shall.”

“I will not change my mind, Penny,” she declared, resolutely. “It is all a lot of frivolity and raucousness for no reason.”

Observing that there was to be a disagreement between them, Bonnie decided to add her own opinion in the hopes that it would dispel any concerns. “I believe it to be an excellent idea. It is the perfect way to meet new people and integrate ourselves into society a little more, especially if you would be so kind as to extend your own friends and acquaintances. We could not be any more indebted to you.” She smiled, assuredly, as though she were certain that her neighbour would agree with her. Her charming smile, the slight trace of beseeching in her gaze, could be considered purposefully done, yet she conducted herself with such grace that nobody thought to accuse her of the sort. “It has been a while now since I have moved here and I know it would be appropriate for me to socialise more, but I never seem to be invited anywhere, only to the Mounts, but they do not introduce me to anyone besides their cousins. You have both been so kind to me previously that I hoped we may host together, that we may share this experience between us- the Donoghues and the Davers alike. Do you not think us quite the pair?”

Bonnie continued to stare pleadingly across at the eldest Miss Davers, who, in this short speech, appeared to have completely transformed her opinion. She could not quite determine what had inspired her, but inspired she felt and she remarked, rather cheerfully-

“It is an exceptional idea! Quite right you are. We shall have a ball, if that is what you desire.”

Penny was astounded, which soon progressed into irritation. She could not accept that her own idea had been dismissed when the same proposal was accepted, moments later, for the comfort of someone else. Nevertheless, the thought of Yvonne being at the mercy of her neighbour’s whims caused her to laugh, and she reconciled herself to the news, particularly as she was to have the dance, regardless. It was to her benefit to have a friend who could manage her sister, and she resolved to call upon Bonnie’s influence if need be.

[imladiris]

San from Mononoke-Hime is aroace

This may or may not have been said before, and others may or may not agree, but I recently re-watched Mononoke-Hime and I have Opinions.

(Before I start: this is based on the French dub. I’ve seen it in the original Japanese, but I don’t speak Japanese, so I can’t say anything about how it presents things. I’ve never seen the English dub.)

It’s fairly well-implied that Ashitaka has some sort of romantic feelings for San (though he doesn’t have to be understood that way either - I didn’t for years, and I still headcanon him as allo ace). After saving San’s life, he tells her “I want you to live” and adds “you are so beautiful”. Later, he tells Moro he and San could live together. During the fight scene with San, Eboshi also uses his feelings to criticise his actions (”you’re attached to this little wolf, do you want to marry her?”), in my opinion because she can’t believe he would save San with no ulterior motives.

Meanwhile, there isn’t a single scene where San seemingly returns these feelings. In fact, there are multiple points when she refuses them, most notably before she accompanies Okoto into battle:

San: Mother, our paths must part. The smoke will confuse Okoto’s sense of smell and since he is blind, I will be his eyes.

Moro: Act according to your heart. But you can also choose to share your life with the young human.

San:

This isn’t to say that she doesn’t appreciate Ashitaka’s affection. Right after this scene, she accepts his crystal dagger and wears it into battle. But that’s exactly what she does - she accepts. She doesn’t reciprocate. Look at how she is positioned when Ashitaka holds her in the water:

Ashitaka’s arms envelop her completely, hugging her tightly against him. San, meanwhile, keeps her visible arm close to her chest. She isn’t hugging Ashitaka; she just happens to be in his embrace (and note that a few moments earlier, she tried to get away from him). Again, she doesn’t reciprocate, she accepts.

There are a few scenes where she shows tenderness towards him in return, but it’s more motherly or sisterly than romantic. She cares for him when he is recovering from his injury, and looks at him affectionately while mouth-feeding him (something many animals do for their young). She does obviously like him, as she tells him at the end. But there’s no indication that her love is romantic.

There is only one scene where she has a response to him expressing his feelings, and it’s after he saves her life:

San: Why did you stop me from killing her [Eboshi]? Tell me, before you die!

Ashitaka: Because they would’ve killed you afterwards, that’s why.

San: Death doesn’t scare me, if it’s to drive all the humans out of our territory.

Ashitaka: Yes, I understood it the moment I saw you in the forest.

San: You’re the one who will die for having saved the life of my enemy! *pulls his sword out of his scabbard and puts it to his throat* I will cut your throat, so that I won’t have to hear your stupid words anymore.

Ashitaka: I want you to live.

San: Be quiet, human! I don’t care about your advice!

Ashitaka: You are so beautiful...

San: *eyes widening, jumps back* What?

I never understood San’s reaction until rewatching the movie recently. It didn’t make sense to me that she would spare Ashitaka just because he finds her pretty - but in retrospect, that’s not what it’s about. And this leads me to my other point: Ashitaka’s romantic love isn’t what matters, but his love, full stop. As a character, he is defined by his kindness and willingness to see good on both sides, in Eboshi and in San, with no motive other than restoring peace. San, meanwhile, is single-minded in her determination to protect the forest, and won’t admit she is human as a result. Even the other characters view her as inhuman, as a one-dimensional wild spirit which must be defeated.

The above scene is the first time she is treated as a person, a human worthy of life and affection. And that is what Ashitaka continues to do throughout the movie: to show compassion towards her, to defend her, and to treat her with respect. When they reconcile during the climax, it isn’t about romantic love at all, but about San accepting that she has failed, that her single-minded determination has failed, and that she is, after all, human.

Ashitaka: San, please, help me.

San: No! You’re on the human side, you’ve always been! Carry that accursed woman [Eboshi] away and vanish!

Ashitaka: San...

San: Go away! Humans are not my friends, I hate them!

Ashitaka: It’s true, I’m human. But San, so are you.

San: Be quiet! I’m a wolf, like my mother!

Ashitaka: *tries to take her in his arms* San...

San: *stabbing at his chest* Leave me!

This is the moment she realises what the conflict between humans and forest spirits has led to. She sees the traces of Ashitaka’s curse and what is happening around them, and understands that it isn’t all black and white. She is human too.

And that is what I find so significant about Mononoke-Hime. It would’ve been so easy to make Ashitaka and San’s relationship about romantic love making her human again - but Ashitaka never pushes his love on her. It’s his kindness that makes her human. What’s more, she stays true to herself until the end of the movie. Accepting her humanity doesn’t lead her to fall in love with Ashitaka and decide to live with him.

Instead, she continues to accept his affection without reciprocating:

And their last exchange in the movie is:

San: Ashitaka, I like you a lot, but I can’t forgive what the humans have done.

Ashitaka: I understand. You will stay in the forest, and I will go to live in Iron Town. We will be neighbours. I will come to see you often with Yakul, if you want.

San: *nods*

In conclusion: San is aroace, she accepts Ashitaka’s love but can’t and doesn’t want to reciprocate it, and coming to terms with her humanity thanks to his kindness and compassion doesn’t change that, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[colascriptura]

A Christmas Sermon For Pagans (C.S. Lewis)

Somewhere in the mid- to late-1940s, C.S. Lewis wrote "A Christmas Sermon For Pagans", which was rediscovered in 2017. The number of copies on the internet is currently zero, as far as I can tell. However, by extremely guerilla means, I have obtained the following copy (though I don't know if it's complete) which I now present to you for your edification and enlightenment...

A Christmas Sermon For Pagans

When I was asked to write a Christmas sermon for pagans, I accepted the job light-heartedly enough, but now that I sit down to tackle it, I discover a difficulty: are there any pagans in England for me to write to? I know that people keep on telling us that this country is relapsing into paganism; but they only mean that it is ceasing to be Christian, and is that at all the same thing?

Let us remember what a pagan or heathen (I use the words interchangably) really was. A heathen was a man who lived out on the heath, out in the wilds. A pagan was a man who lived in a "pagus" or small village. Both words in fact meant a rustic or yokel. They date from the time when the larger towns of the Roman Empire were already Christianised, but the old nature religions still lingered in the country. Pagans or heathens were the backward people in the remote districts who had not yet been converted, who were still pre-Christians. To say that modern people who have drifted away from Christianity are pagans is to suggest that a post-Christian man is the same as a pre-Christian man. But that is like thinking that a woman who has lost her husband is the same sort of person as an unmarried girl. Or that a street where the houses have been knocked down is the same as a field where no house has yet been built.

The ruined street and the unbuilt field are alike in one respect, namely that neither will keep you dry if it rains, but they are different in every other respect: rubble, dust, broken bottles, old bedsteads, and stray cats are very different from grass, thyme, clover, buttercups, and the lark singing overhead.

The real pagan differed from the post-Christian in the following ways. Firstly, he was religious. From the Christian point of view, he was indeed too religious by half. He was full of reverence. For him the earth was holy, the woods and waters were alive. His agriculture was a ritual as well as a technique. And secondly, he believed in what we now call "an objective right and wrong". That is, he thought the distinction between pious and impious acts was something that existed independently of human opinions: something like the multiplication table, which man had not invented, but had found to be true, and which he had better take notice of. The gods would punish him if he did not.

To be sure, by Christian standards his list of right and wrong acts was rather a muddled one. He thought (and the Christians agreed) that the gods would punish him for setting the dogs on a beggar who came to his door, or for striking his father. But he also thought they would punish him for turning his face to the wrong point of the compass when he began ploughing. Though his code included some fantastic sins and duties, it got in most of the real ones.

This leads us to the third great difference between a pagan and a post-Christian man. Believing in a real right and wrong means finding out that you are not very good. The pagan code may have been on some points a low one, but it was too high for the pagan to live up to. Hence a pagan, though in many ways merrier than a modern, had a deep sadness. When he asked himself what was wrong with the world, he did not immediately reply "the social system" or "our allies" or "education". It occurred to him that he -- himself -- might be one of the things that was wrong with the world. He knew he had sinned. And the terrible thing was he thought the gods made no difference between voluntary and involuntary sins. You might get into their bad books by mere accident. And once in, it was very hard to get out of them. The pagan dealt with this situation in a rather silly way. His religion was a mass of ceremonies, sacrifices, purifications, et cetera, which were supposed to take away guilt, but they never quite succeeded. His conscience was not at ease.

Now, the post-Christian view which is gradually coming into existence (it is complete already in some people, and still incomplete in others) is quite different. According to it, nature is not a living thing to be reverenced. It is a kind of machine for us to exploit. There is no objective right or wrong. Each race or class can invent its own code or ideology just as it pleases. And whatever may be amiss with the world, it is certainly not we the ordinary people. It is up to God, if after all he should happen to exist, or to government, or to education, to give us what we want. They are the shop, we are the customer, and the customer is always right.

Now if the post-Christian view is the correct one then we have indeed woken from a nightmare. The old fear, the old reverence, the old restraints... how delightful to have woken up into freedom, to be responsible to no one, to be utterly and absolutely our own masters! We have, of course, lost some fun. A universe of colourless electrons (which is presently going to run down and annihilate all organic life everywhere and forever) is, perhaps, a little dreary compared with the earth-mother and the sky-father, the wood nymphs and the water nymphs, chaste Diana riding the night sky and homely Vesta flickering on the hearth. But one can't have everything, and there are always the flicks and the radio: if the new view is correct, it has very solid advantages.

But is it? And if so, why are things not going better? What do you make of the present threat of world famine? We know now it is not entirely due to the war. From country after country comes the same story of failing harvests. Even the whales have less oil. Can it be that nature, or something behind nature, is not simply a machine that we can do what we like with? That she is hitting back? Waive the point. Suppose she is only a machine, and that we are free to master her at our pleasure. Have you not begun to see that man's conquest of nature is really man's conquest of man? That every power wrested from nature is used by some men over other men? Men are the victims, not the conquerors in this struggle. Each new victory over nature yields new means of propaganda to enslave them, new weapons to kill them, new power for the state, and new weakness for the citizen. New contraceptives to keep man from being born at all.

As for ideologies, does no one see the catch? If there is no real wrong and right -- nothing good or bad in itself -- none of these ideologies can be better or worse than another. For a better moral code can only mean one which comes nearer to some real or absolute code. One map of New York can be better than another only if there is a real New York for it to be truer to. If there is no objective standard then our choice between one ideology and another becomes a matter of arbitrary taste. Our battle for democratic ideals against Nazi ideals has been a waste of time, because the one is no better than the other. Nor can there ever be any real improvement or deterioration. If there is no real goal, we can't get any nearer to it, or farther from it. In fact there is no real reason for doing anything at all.

It looks to me, neighbours, as though we shall have to set about becoming true pagans, if only as a preliminary to becoming Christians. I don't mean that we should begin leaving little bits of bread under the tree at the end of the garden as an offering to the dryad. I don't mean that we should dance to Dionysus across Hampstead Heath, though perhaps a little more solemn or ecstatic gaity and a little less commercialised amusement might make our holidays better than they now are. I don't even mean (though I do very much wish) that we should recover that sympathy with nature, that religious attitude to the family, and that appetite for beauty which the better pagans had. Perhaps what I do mean is best put like this: if the modern post-Christian view is wrong (and every day I find it harder to think it right) then there are three kinds of people in the world. 1) Those who are sick and don't know it: the post-Christians. 2) Those who are sick and know it: the pagans. 3) Those who have found the cure.

And if you start in the first class, you must go through the second to reach the third. For (in a sense) all that Christianity adds to paganism is the cure. It confirms the old belief that in this universe we are up against Living Power: that there is a real Right and that we have failed to obey it: that existence is beautiful and terrifying. It adds a wonder of which paganism had not distinctly heard: that the Mighty One has come down to help us, to remove our guilt, to reconcile us. All over the world, even in Japan, even in Russia, men and women will meet on December the 25th to do a very old-fashioned and very pagan thing: to sing and feast because God has been born.

You are uncertain whether it is more than a myth. Well, if it is only a myth then our last hope is gone. But is the opposite explanation not worth trying? Who knows but that here -- and here alone -- lies your way back? Not only to heaven, but to earth too, and to the great human family whose oldest hopes are confirmed by this story that does not die.

[marvellous-fangirl]

Undercover

You and Steve go undercover on a mission, but it gets compromised

Oneshot

Word Count: 2,760

Pairings: Steve x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, UncomfortableWithRomanticEmotions!Steve

A/N: This has to be one of my favourites ngl

Y/N collapsed into a chair in the briefing room, yawning. “So remind me why we’re up at 6am?” She stretched. “We’ve located a major Hydra scientist.” Began Fury. “He has highest level clearance in their facilities and we need to capture him to find out what he knows, but also to allow us to infiltrate the base.” Heads nodded. “But surely the areas that require highest level clearance will have high security measures?” asked Steve. “There are retinal scans, voice recognition, and three different guard stations to verify ID.” Replied Fury. “How are we going to infiltrate the base when none of us look like him?” added Natasha. “We’ll use his pass to forge a new one. We’ll also hack into the Hydra systems to add retinal and vocal data. Parker, I understand your friend is good with computers.” Peter’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Mr Fury can I call him now?” Fury smirked slightly. “Sure kid.” Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled Ned’s number. “Hey Ned is anyone else there?” Y/N could hear the distant voice resonating from the phone. “No why? Peter is everything ok?” Ned hissed in the distance. “The Avengers want the Guy in the Chair!” Peter grinned. Y/N heard distant muffled screaming. “So I’ll take it he agreed.” Fury chuckled and Peter blushed slightly but returned the smile as he nodded. “Excellent. Now, the only way we can capture the scientist without Hydra being notified is to befriend him and lure him to a seemingly innocent event. Whoever goes undercover must have no contact with us and must be able to be perceived as a friend.” “Y/N should be a part of it.” Tony said and others nodded. “Ideally those who go undercover would be a feasible couple.” Fury added. All eyes turned to Steve, who turned slightly pink. “Sure I’ll do it.”

Y/N was packing her bags when Steve knocked on her door. Y/N looked up, hair flicking out of her eyes. “Hey Steve.” She smiled. “Hey Y/N.” He said, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded. “I uh just wanted to check you’re alright with the whole uh couple thing.” Y/N laughed slightly. “Of course I am!” Steve smiled with relief at her words. “Okay.” “So what kind of couple are we anyway? Moving into our first apartment? Fiancés? Married?” She grinned, adding a wink to the last possibility. Steve flushed again and Y/N straightened up. “Are you sure you’re alright with this Steve?” “Huh? Oh yeah yeah I am.” He smiled. “How about we’re just getting our first apartment? Then we’re taking it slow.” Y/N smiled. “That sounds great.” Grinned Steve. 

Y/N pulled on her hoodie and slipped a ring onto her finger. She grabbed a box of her things and pulled her suitcase behind her. Y/N saw Steve and couldn’t help but to laugh. “What is it with you guys with wearing baseball hats under hoodies with sunglasses when you’re supposed to be blending in?” She cackled. Steve looked mildly offended. “I want to hide my face!” He said, hurt. “People are more likely to look at your face if you’re wearing ridiculous clothes like that.” Y/N giggled and Steve frowned. “Oh come on at least take the sunglasses off.” She grinned, nudging him playfully. He smiled and rolled his eyes as his slid the sunglasses into his pocket. Fury stepped forward, ready to meet them. “Rogers, Y/L/N.” He nodded. “We have provided you with furniture to make the move in more realistic. There is also a car which you will drive to the location. The scientist lives on the same floor as you just down the hall. You’ll know who he is. Good Luck. You have a year. I hope it won’t have to last that long but you must do whatever is required.” The pair nodded. “Can we say goodbye to everyone before we go?” Y/N asked and Fury chuckled. “Of course. I’m not a monster.” 

Y/N stepped out of the car with her box and slipped her hand into Steve’s who pulled a large suitcase behind him with ease. Steve smiled down at Y/N as they walked up to their new apartment together and Y/N tried not to grin. As they unlocked the door and stepped inside, Steve pulled his hand out of Y/N’s a little too quickly as he stepped over to the new furniture provided by Fury and he went through to the bedroom. “We’re sharing a bed.” Steve said, coming back to the main room and sitting on the sofa next to Y/N. Y/N smiled. “Is that alright with you?” Steve hesitated. “Uh yeah if you are.” Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. She could feel how tense his muscles were but he put his arm around her shoulders and he relaxed slightly. Y/N smiled to herself as he turned on the new TV. 

A knock on the door interrupted their entertainment and Steve got up to greet the visitor. Y/N was watching from the sofa. Three people were standing there, evidently their new neighbours. “Welcome to the building!” Said a young man with a handsome moustache. “Thank you!” Steve grinned. “I’m Sam and that’s Natasha over there.” Y/N smiled and waved from the sofa. The trio leant around Steve’s large figure to get a better look at her and they waved in return. “We were wondering if you would want to come to a welcome party to help you get to know everyone in the building?” A middle aged lady asked. Y/N had gotten up from the sofa and wrapped her arms around Steve’s waist, hugging him from the side. “We’d love that.” She smiled looking up at Steve, who leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You two are cute.” The lady said. Y/N chuckled. “We think we are.” She smirked and Steve laughed with the others. 

Steve was waiting for her by the door and Y/N grabbed her bag as she slipped her hand into his once again. She smiled softly. “Shall we go then?” Steve grinned and they made their way to the apartment. They were greeted by many faces and conversation was easy. They nailed their characters’ stories down to a point and there was no sense of doubt whatsoever. The pair had also done extra research the night before so they would be prepared for questions. Part way through the welcome wagon, Steve and Y/N shared a look that clearly said that they were happy with how well the night was going. They were talking about some things that they needed for the conversation, when a thin, greasy man introduced himself. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He smiled, holding out his hand, his British accent thick. Y/N shook it, a friendly smile on her face and Steve grinned and took his hand enthusiastically. “My name is Tobias Meade.” “It’s so nice to meet you! I’m Natasha and this is Sam.” She smiled. Steve grinned. “Is that a British accent I detect?” He asked and the man chuckled. “Indeed it is. I grew up in Hampshire.” Y/N smiled and nodded. “And then I studied in London and moved here three years ago.” “What did you study?” Y/N asked. “Oh you know. This and that. Science mainly.” “Sounds fascinating. Anything specific or is it government secrets?” She winked and the man shifted uncomfortably. Y/N realised she may have made a mistake. “Ah well you could say that.” The man mumbled before disappearing into the groups of people. Y/N groaned. “I just blew it, didn’t I.” Steve hugged her and put on a laugh. He leant down to whisper in her ear. “We’re fine I promise you.” He kissed her forehead then hesitated. “Are you ok with me doing that?” He asked and Y/N laughed genuinely. “Of course I am.” She chuckled and she leant into the super soldier for another hug. 

“What’re you doing Steve?” He snapped the sketchbook shut. “Nothing.” Y/N raised an eyebrow. He got up from his armchair and clearly went to hide it. He came back and sat down next to Y/N on the sofa. Y/N snuggled under his arm and she felt his muscles tense then relax. He played with her hair and she smiled slightly. Steve slouched down and Y/N repositioned her head onto his chest. He put his legs up on the coffee table and Y/N rested hers on top of his. She looked up at him to see a soft smile on his face. She grinned. Both of their breathing gradually grew heavy and they eventually fell asleep. 

Y/N stirred slightly as Steve carried her through to the bedroom. He laid her on her side of the bed and pushed the hair out of her face, before placing a light kiss on her forehead. He sat down on the other side, causing Y/N to roll slightly into the middle. He lay down, distributing his weight more and Y/N smiled to herself as his arm tentatively wrapped around her waist. 

Y/N felt Steve sit up on the edge of the bed as the sun leaked through the blinds. She rolled over to watch him. His head was in his hands. “Steve you alright?” She asked. He jumped slightly before turning to look at her. He scanned her face before smiling. “I’m great.” He said and Y/N smiled tiredly. He lay down next to her. “How about we go and explore this neighbourhood then.” It was her turn to study his face now. He looked stressed and tired, yet somehow also relaxed. She didn’t push into that though and nodded instead. They got up to get dressed. Steve had pulled on his trousers and was looking for a top when he turned a bright shade of pink because he turned around to see Y/N standing in jeans and a bra. His eyes widened and he spun around to face away from her, burying his face in his hands. “Steve?” Y/N asked. Steve turned and saw that she still hadn’t put a top on and flushed an even deeper shade. Y/N giggled and tackled him into a hug, the skin to skin contact sending shocks up and down Steve’s body. 

Y/N and Steve walked hand in hand through the mall, Y/N swinging their arms back and forth playfully. Y/N leant into Steve, pointing at mannequins in the windows. He chuckled when she criticised clothing and was pulled into multiple shops and asked for opinions. Steve insisted on buying her a small star necklace that she couldn’t stop looking at and she thanked him repeatedly throughout the day. 

As they were walking, Steve’s arms laden with bags, Y/N spotted Tobias and waved. She could feel Steve’s grip tighten on her hand but she didn’t show that in her face. The scientist made eye contact, paused before smiling and beckoning the pair over to him. Y/N instantly dragged Steve with her, who stumbled but regained his footing. “Hey Tobias.” “Ah hello.” He replied, smiling slightly. “Natasha I was wondering if I could have your opinion on a few items.” He asked. Y/N nodded and smiled. “Of course!” Steve made to follow her. “Ah Sam. I was wondering if I could have Natasha’s opinion alone.” Y/N smiled and nodded. Steve hesitated unnoticeably for Tobias for a split second before breaking into a smile and nodding, clapping the British man on the shoulder, who flinched but smiled in return. Y/N followed the scientist into a store and over to a corner. She felt something sharp against her leg. “Do not look down.” Tobias murmured, pointing at shelves and then acting like he was asking her opinion. “Now turn to the Captain over there and wave reassuringly.” Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest. She turned to Steve and waved with a smile, his worried stare flooded with relief. “I know who you are Y/L/N and if you want to make it back to your friends then you’ll do exactly as I tell you.”

Steve and Y/N had travelled back to their apartment that evening and when Steve awoke in the middle of the night, his arms instinctively searched for Y/N. He carefully reached over to the other side of the bed, only to find cold, empty bed sheets. His heart stopped and he sat bolt upright. He fumbled for the lamp and flicked it on, to see an empty bed, which had been abandoned hours ago. He leapt out of bed, tugging on a hoodie and he ran into the rest of the apartment, searching for Y/N but she wasn’t there. The front door was bolted from the inside so she couldn’t have left that way. He felt a cold breeze on the back of his neck and he looked to the window, which was open a crack. He rubbed his eyes and went back into the bedroom. He opened the wardrobe and pulled a trunk out of the base of it, causing the floor to shake with the weight of its impact. He unlocked and opened it, then started to change. 

Steve opened the window and took a small breath before jumping out of it, landing on his shield with a thud that knocked the air out of his lungs. He stood up, dusted himself off, then spoke into his comms. “Fury do you copy.” The line crackled for a few seconds before Fury’s deep voice responded. “Rogers I copy. We’re tracking her now.” Steve flexed his neck. “Steve we’ve found her.” Natasha’s voice spoke clearly into his ear. “Only six blocks north of you, but she’s moving.” Steve bolted in the given direction, not even bothering to respond. 

Steve ran into the middle of the road, not caring about the squealing of brakes, the complaints of car horns and the shouts of “Oh my God is that Captain America?!”. “Nat which car is it.” He half yelled, energy slowly seeping out of him, despite his super soldier form. “Black limo, second lane.” Steve pushed himself even harder, running as fast as he possibly could and soon he was running alongside the vehicle. He peered through the darkened windows and just about made out the figure of Y/N slumped unconscious in a corner. He shattered the passenger seat window and swung into the limo. He smashed the driver in the face, unclipped the man’s seatbelt and pushed the bleeding body out of the door after leaning across and opening it. He quickly clambered into the driver’s seat before the limo lost control and he sped away from the mess behind him towards the Avengers Compound. 

Y/N opened her eyes, then shut them immediately due to the bright white lights in the medical bay. She rubbed her eyes with one hand as they gradually adjusted and stretches, muscles screaming in protest. She looked down at her other hand, grasped in that of a super soldier, who was dosing in an armchair next to her bed. She smiled softly and squeezed his hand. Steve jumped and looked at his hand. Y/N watched his gaze dart up her arm, from her hand to her face. His face broke into a joyous and relieved smile. His eyes were slightly red and puffy.  “Y/N.” He breathed, holding her hand tightly within his. “You’re alright.” Y/N kept smiling.  “Of course I am.” She said. “Steve have you been crying?” She added, quietly. Steve avoided her gaze and nodded ever so slightly.  “I was so worried.” Steve whispered. Y/N brought her hand up to Steve’s cheek, where she wiped away a fresh tear with her thumb. Steve leant into her hand and she smiled. Fury stepped into the room.  “Y/N. I see you are awake. We need to debrief you as the mission failed.”  “That isn’t technically our fault.” Y/N replied with a smirk and Steve chuckled.  “Indeed.” Fury added. “I must say your acting was not at fault.”  “It wasn’t really acting.” Steve murmured, looking at Y/N, who’s sarcastic expression softened. Fury chuckled.  “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. We can debrief later.” He said, turning on his heel, leaving the pair blushing a bright shade of red. They then laughed and Steve kissed the palm of Y/N’s hand which was still against his cheek.  “Y/N... there’s something I need to.. uh.. tell you.”  “I think I can guess.”  “So do you want to... uh..”  “Fondue?” She grinned, bursting into laughter at Steve’s expression, who was making a mental note to never tell her anything ever.  “How about a date?” He suggested and she chuckled, pulling Steve into a long kiss.

[infinitycaprogers]

Midnight Train (B.B.)| CH 4

Pairings: Bucky x Reader General Summary: As the winter soldier is at large, a new neighbour pops up who never intended to be your friend. But as luck turns out, you’re quite the charmer. (This idea popped in my head while listening to Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing.) Chapter summary: Warnings: none A/N: oh my God I AM SO SORRY. It has been a year. It’s been a busy one, but it’s no excuse. I come bearing gifts though! A chapter full of intrigue and fun. Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

Previously

“What is it, Barb? Not ready to handle the truth?” you added, firing back her own words as you turned and walked away.

“I’ll see you around, Jen.” You said over your shoulder.

As you turned the corner you could see from your peripheral vision that Barb was staring at you wide-eyed, baffled with your argument.

The last thing you heard was a “Holy crap.” being whispered by your best friend.

You arrived home after walking a few blocks from work, your win still resonating in your mind.

Even though you didn’t know The Soldier, you felt a sense of righteousness coming over you when you heard Barb talking about him like that. You had always hated people who judged others by how they were portrayed by the media. Newspapers look for sensation, just like people do.

The Winter Soldier was sensation.

It didn’t matter that Barb was right or not. She didn’t know him, just as she didn’t know how to keep her trap shut. Every time you heard her say something, it was some gossip or an opinion that didn’t help anyone.

Maybe this time she’d finally learn to not talk about people she didn’t know anything about.

Shouting welcomed you as you finished the last step to your floor. You sighed, already knowing where it came from.

Can they stop for a second or is this their way of communicating?

A door opened. You needed to make yourself scarce.

Looking down to the floor, you went as quickly as you could, chanting the same sentence in your head repeatedly.

“It’s not your business, it’s not your business, it’s not your bus- “

You bumped into a broad chest, making you stumble back and fall on your behind. You started apologizing while still focusing on the sore spot from falling.

“Shit, Steve. I’m sorry. I should’ve looked up when I heard a door open.”

“Uhm, no. I’m sorry.”

Well butter my nut, that’s not Steve.

“Oh!” you exclaimed as your eyes widened. “Sorry, you’re not Steve.”

“Not the last time I checked, no.” he chuckled.

You eyed his appearance; dark hair that reached his shoulders by the tips, with blue eyes, clear as day. his biceps bulging out of his red Henley.

A fine specimen indeed.

Your eyes reached his again, and you noticed his eyebrows furrowed.

You have to say something.

“y/n!” You stated.

“Bu-... James.”

“Bujames?” Weird flex but ok.

“No. Just James.” He said as he went through his hair with his hand covered in a leather glove. You couldn’t help but wonder why.

“Well, Just James. I’d love to chat, but you seemed to be going somewhere, slightly angry may I add. So, I’ll let you be.”

His brows went up, remembering that he was indeed storming off to wherever he was going, although he didn’t really seem to know where that was.

“Right! Yes. Going… somewhere. Right. So, I’m just going to… go now. Ok. Great.”

He backed away, gave you a small wave before putting his hand in his pocket and turned himself around. All the while you stood there until he was out of sight. You might have smiled a bit to yourself thinking about your new acquaintance.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

As Bucky went down the stairs, he couldn’t help but wonder who she was.

She looked familiar, although he couldn’t place her. Maybe Steve knows?

No. He was still mad at the little punk; though he could hardly still call him that.

Steve grew up a lot since the 40’s. The super serum gave him amazing abilities, but it was still Steve at heart. He claimed that a great man once made him promise to always remain the same;

Not a good soldier, but a good man.

Bucky tried to live by the same words now. He realized that being on the run wasn’t going to be easy. With Steve by his side, he might pull it off.

But was he worth saving?

Bucky couldn’t answer that question. Even now, the thought of killing people who could betray him entered his mind far too easy.

This was why they had their latest fight.

After Steve went to talk to y/n, Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. His friend said it was because he had to look over his shoulder all this time, but his gut told a different story. Bucky said to eliminate her. It was an unreliable string that could lead to a lot of people who were searching for them to his hideout. But Steve wouldn’t hear it. He said that there was no way that they could do that.

This arguing had been going on now for the last two days. Until Bucky had enough of it and stormed out.

That’s when he bumped into you.

You.

He couldn’t kill you even if he wanted to.

He decided that he needed to get to know you.

You looked just like her.

Over a few months' course, you and James grew closer.

It started by greeting each other in the hall several times. Sometimes you even chatted a bit. Luckily you seemed to have the same schedules since you almost saw him every morning. You learned his nervous tics, his likes and dislikes. You could even get a laugh out of him sometimes.

There was that time where you came up the steps of your apartment after a long shift at the hospital when you saw your dark-haired neighbour shouting profanities at his door;

“Goddammit! How long do I have to stand here putting my freakin’ key in your hole until you let me in?”

“Jesus, James, at least buy me dinner first.”

He looked up at you, his eyes still set in an angry tone.

How long had he been trying to get that door open?

“y/n, hey. My door won’t open. I- I’d stomp it open, but I really can’t afford to get a new lock. Or anything for that matter.” He laughed sheepishly, raking his leather gloved fingers through his hair.

You learned it was a way to tell when he was nervous. Which was basically every time you saw him.

“Why don’t you just come over at my place? At least until Steve gets here.”

He smiled at you, nodding in agreement, and followed you to your door.

“Welcome in my humble abode. Take whatever you want from the fridge, though I doubt you’ll find much.” you smiled as you turned around and plopped yourself on the couch.

“Watch out for the little rugrat, by the way.”

“Rugrat?”

Bucky hadn’t even had time to say more or Nancy came in, wagging her curled up tail as best as she could. She made a sprint for the unfamiliar man and started sniffing his pants, panting as she arrived.

“She likes you.”

He crouched down to ruffle her little head and smiled up at you.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

You both sat down and watched a movie together. He started asking you about your life and what you do for a living, which you thoroughly enjoyed since you didn’t get to do that a lot. You only really had one friend in New York. Since you did everything together, she already knew what happened in your life. He seemed to listen intently at what you were saying as if he wanted to know all of it. When you asked him about his life though, he acted evasive, directing the conversation back to you.

After a while you both sat in comfortable silence, enjoying both the movie and each other’s company. When you heard the jingling of keys outside your door, it indicated that a certain super soldier arrived home.

“I better get going then.” James broke the silence, gesturing at the door.

You nodded in understanding, feeling a bit sad that your time together had ended already.

You knew you didn’t want this to end, but what could you do?

“Coffee!”

His eyebrows scrunched together. This is not how this was supposed to come out, y/n. make a sentence, dammit.

“Have coffee! W-with me, I mean.” You stumbled over your words. “Would you like to go and grab coffee with me? Sometime?”

His face relaxed, calmly starting to shake his head.

Uh-oh. Not good.

“Y/n, I’m sorry but I can’t.” It’s obvious he saw your reaction turning sour because he started panicking for a bit. He held out his hands in front of him, trying to soften the blow for you.

“It’s not that I don’t want to! I do! I just don’t really go outside that much. I try to... eh… avoid it.”

Well, at least it’s not because he doesn’t want a date. God, y/n. Stop thinking like that.

“Oh! Well, what if we have coffee at our own little coffeehouse?” you suggested. “I make a mean cappuccino.” You winked, trying to make light of the conversation. Realization dawned on him. He seemed to be into that. He agreed to each make something to go with the coffee, meeting up the day after tomorrow. Since you were meeting up with Jenny in the morning you had to skip a day.

He was starting to grow on you, though.

“I’m still amazed y/n, okay? The woman needs to stick her nose in her own business and you telling her to do it was even better!”

The cold crawled in when a bell jingled at the door. Chattering around you started to pick up, indicating the rush had reached its peak. A whiff of ground coffee beans came into your nose. A barista shouted out names left and right.

You loved the smell of coffee in the morning.

“We all know Barb can be a gossip. She just had to be told who we should talk about. Which we don’t, of course.”

Jenny leaned back, coffee in hand. You could tell a smirk was starting to form on her lips.

“Who knew you could talk back like that? Maybe I rub off on you, after all.” She winked. A sign of how proud she was. She’s weird like that.

“Okay, we get it. I can mouth off. “It wasn’t like you to put someone in their place like that. But something came over you when Barb was talking bad about the Winter Soldier. Not like he needed protecting. “Can we just drink our coffee in silence if you’re going to talk about this for the rest of the time being?”

“Right! Ok. Sorry.” Jenny apologized, moving on to her next topic of choice. “Did you meet anyone new in your apartment, recently? Like a cute guy?” Her eyebrows wiggled, obviously indicating more than just wanting to talk about Mr Renly’s plants getting ruined by a mystery cat who found her way up to the fifth floor.

What else did she know about James? Sometimes you felt like she knew things were happening to you before you even knew it. Best friends do have a secret link.

“Well,” you began. “James couldn’t open his door, so he had to wait until Steve helped him out. I let him in.”

You saw her smirk getting even wider at that, but you began to protest. “I couldn’t just leave the guy in the hallway, Jen! It was cold!”

“Sure. I’d let a guy in my apartment as well if he was this god of a man.”

You drank the last of your coffee, setting the mug down and crossing your arms. Honestly, you could act like you didn’t see it. Who were you kidding, though? He looked like he was in the prime of his life and spent every day in the gym. Without spending every day in the gym.

“yeah, okay. So maybe he is. But that’s not why I l- “

You were interrupted by your phone ringing in your pocket. Checking your screen, you saw your father calling you. You sighed before accepting the call.

“Hey, dad.”

“Y/n. I’d like to come over sometime.” His measured voice didn’t predict much good.

“Why? When?”

“This Week? Say Friday.”

Two days till he comes. You can prepare.

“Sounds good. Will Callie come with?” you’d love to see your sister again. You Facetimed, but it’s not the same as in real life.

“Yes.”

“Okay, great! See you then. Love you.”

“You too.” came through the phone, while an immediate click followed, ending the call. You put your phone back in your pocket. Jenny looked at you with worried eyes. She shouldn’t. It’s always like this.

“My dad is coming over.” You said. Not that it needed to be said. Your face talked for you.

“I heard.”

“He’s bringing Callie.”

Jenny tried to lift your spirits. “That’s good, right? You can see her again! It’s been some time.”

You stood up, letting Jenny know that the conversation was over for today. “Time to get our nursing on.”

She knew you were a bit rattled, so she let it rest. Only one thing could help.

“Sleepover tonight?”

“Sleepover tonight.”

Read Chapter 5 HERE!

feedback is always greatly appreciated xoxo

tags: @marvel-fan-queen @buckybarnesbeans @superhero2552

[alatismeni-theitsa]

(part 1) Could go describe the greece thoughts on the war reparations that are asked of germany? I am stuck in a debate with my grandpa because of it. You see my town in germany is broke to the point where they have to cut public transport in order to have the money to repair and build other public transport that is more sustainable ( we have 3 types, only 1 that is cut is working ) and you can see a big hit to our economy coming as the biggest part of our tax payers are older people who want to

(part 2) go into early retirement, meaning cuts in the state retirement fonds and way higher taxes for the rest of us. (that is also why the elder genderation kinda looks down on south europe “they go so early in retirement, they don’t work as long as we do so ofc their economy is bad” ) that with the mentality of saving up for everything and the idea that we worked hard for our economic wonder after the war makes him think that greece is asking out of entitlement ? While in my age group it’s more like we want to help , one of my teachers even phrased it as helping out euopean neighbours helps us too , but at the same time have enough money left over so that the towns still can operate normally ( the city where the grandparents of my bff live didn’t have enough money immediantly to change faulty water pipes in a neighborhood ) and maybe it’s because we’re still in school so the number in the reparation seems really big. //

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Hello! :) To sum my big response up, I believe

reparations must be paid and that this is the most suitable situation for this

to happen. Germany has enough money to support its citizens and Greece. I believe with this is the majority opinion of Greeks on the matter. If any Greek wants to add soemthing, feel free to reblog and comment. For now, let’s analyze that a bit more.

To put a disclaimer here, I am not saying that Greece is the perfect state or that it handled its financial matters in the best way. Not all the blame falls on Germans. Greeks are to blame too, of course. We did some poor choices and we can be scumbugs from time to time. But enough blame falls on Germany (as well), enough to not give them the right to accuse Greece this way. At the same time I don’t support the “all Germans are bad” notion. 

Point 1

As I said, reparations must be paid no matter what. And they should be paid especially in this situation because the German Nazi regime harmed Greece A LOT. (I am not implying that all Germans were Nazis, I am not implying that Germany wasn’t hurt by the regime and I am not implying you don’t know your own history. I will do the mention for the reason I just want to lay some numbers.)

The Great Famine was a period of mass forced starvation during the Axis occupation of Greece, during World War II (1941–44). Deaths estimated to 300,000 just from this. People who have survived this are our grandparents and their traumatic experiences bleed into our families. Also, imagine how many more died of sudden mass executions in villages and by opposing the regime. Let’s not mention the Greek Romani, Greek Jewish, Greek people with disabilities and Greek lgbt+ people were led to death camps. At least 80% of the country’s Jewish population, were murdered (that is tens of thousands). Bulgaria had taken the North with German blessings and there was more destruction on their part. So, what sort of “entitlement” is to get money after war crimes being commited onto your country? 

Point 2

At the same time I recognize that simple people had to work very hard to bring Germany back to its feet after WW2. I am not denying that your grandfather and his generation are worthy of good pensions and rest. And, with the current economic state of Germany, I am sure they will take that money. See, Germany has become one of the most influential and powerful states in the EU, even the most powerful someone say. So much that countries like France and the UK are overshadowed and worried about “a German hegemony”. So we know that the government, at least, has the money. (I will elaborate more on that on Point 4).

 Point 3

Now contrast this to Greece. Germans say Greeks are lazy. I say that Greeks have worked very hard to overcome the poverty their nation had. While Germanic kingdoms were thriving, Greece was under Ottoman occupation (which lasted for 200-500 years depending on the area). After 1825 Greeks slowly started getting freed and they had to gather money from level zero to build their new government and offices. Less than 100 years later the nation also suffered from a refugee crisis, as our Greek brothers in the Pontus region were going through a literal genocide so they run to Greece for safety. WW1 before that had brought nation to its knees. And then came WW1. And not to mention the Greek civil war afterwards. More poverty, more hunger for everyone. All we hear from our grandparents is poverty and hunger (unless you are descended from an old rich family, which, for the most of us its unlikely).

So, Greeks always worked to overcome this. We are not lazy but we had one “lazy” generation. It was in the early days of the Euro in the country when the government had money and chose to spend it immoderately on its citizens. The people who were in their prime in the in 80’s-00’s worked normal hours with an extravagant pay. And since they were paid well and the retirement funds were good, they went into retirement early. Other than that, Greeks never worked less, especially less than Germans. Even today, Greeks work the longest hours in Europe, while Germans clock the least hours, according to data by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) reveal. (article from 2018: https://greece.greekreporter.com/2018/01/24/greeks-work-longest-hours-in-europe/)

Greeks still work hard to overcome the crisis. Many households are bleeding and striving to keep the basic goods coming into the house. Most of our elderly don’t have enough to take basic medicine because of the extreme cuts in their pensions. And more cuts are on the way (https://www.politico.eu/pro/greek-mps-pass-further-austerity-measures-amidst-violent-protests/). People will retire after their sixties because if they go on retirement they won’t have enough money to even maintain a household. That is because the EU, with Germany as a leading force, put extreme meters of austerity for us and great taxes which grow every year even ten years after the crisis. To top that, Greece almost doesn’t have an industry at all because the EU has make us dependent on other countries (because of our debt). It’s not that we have a great amount of dept. There are countries with great industry that have a huge dept, see USA with its 20 trillion debt. It must be noted that the European countries were quick to put Greece into their debt since our revolution in the 19th century. Of course, I don’t expect anyone to just give Greece money. The problem is that we were put in debt for very small help. Sometimes it was almost like a scam.

Point 4

Moreover, Germany knows the situation in Greece and it’s profiting from it. For example, Fraport, which is majority-owned by state and local governments in Germany, bought 14 Greek airports in 2017. The European commission asked Greece to sell 40% of our state electrical production units. As you will see in this 2015 article, more sales were done. (https://www.marketwatch.com/story/germans-begin-the-looting-of-greece-2015-08-21). “the country must sequester 50 billion euros worth of public assets to sell off at distressed prices to mostly foreign bidders — with German companies first in line.” and “Other assets to be sold will include the ports of Piraeus and Thessaloniki and valuable waterfront properties for hotel and casino development. State-owned electricity and train operations are also targeted for privatization.”

Germany made billions from the crisis, as stated in this article. (https://www.thelocal.de/20180621/germany-made-billions-on-greeces-debt-crisis-berlin-confirms) Plus, the German newspaper “Handelsblatt” confirmed that Germany gained 368 billion euros, which is 10% of its Gross Domestic Product - GDP. And how could it not, since it’s buying everything Greece has and on top of it gives us loans with a very high interest rate. It’s obvious that Germany’s government is not here to see us thrive but to gain from our misfortune. If it wanted to see us thrive it would support Greece with investments, not robbery of its state assets. And I say robbery because, due to the crisis, they find the excuse to buy everything very cheap, as we depend on them.

Greeks feel like they are colonized by the Germans, since they just want to milk us and at the same time they treat the country as their vacation resort because our prices have gone down due to the bigger crisis they put us in. I am not ungrateful for tourism but you can see the messy social implications of that. See the 2017 article “Why Greece is Germany’s ‘de facto colony’” (https://www.politico.eu/article/why-greece-is-germanys-de-facto-colony/)

And I should comment on the irony of the situation, since, even with the way Germany treats Greece, Greece’s youth mainly migrates to Germany to work, as there are no jobs here. That means we give the country our knowledge and our labor and we work to advance the country for the benefit of all - while at the same time we are looked down upon because we are supposedly lazy. While having jobs in Germany. There is a chance I go to the country for work, and while with my degree I can help advance the technological companies of Germany, a lot of people will just name me “a lazy Greek” or they will name my parents “lazy Greeks” - my parents who almost pass out of exhaustion working multiple jobs to support the family. Or my grandparents, who opened four different shops (with great debt) because each one was failing and were always struggling to get by.

Seeing all the profit Germany made and will

make, it’s hard for me to believe that the country lacks money. It must be the

government officials that don’t want to give this money to the people. It seems so ridiculous that the state won’t give enough money to your grandparents’ community to do basic things. It’s exactly like the situation in Greece, but our government indeed doesn’t have the money :P In some places our buses are so ancient they barely hold themselves together and you can hear the sounds their metals do as it goes on the road. (And you can feel them, it’s like a Luna Park ride :P) Roads are not fixed, our state buildings (and university buildings among them) are literally collapsing… Like… not such a good situation. 

Point 5

For the fake credentials fiasco: I don’t know how true is this but if it is indeed true, our politicians are scumbags. People who were not government officials at the time didn’t know about this and they didn’t support it. It was a previous government that did all this. Moreover, if Greece gave fake credentials, it was the job of EU officials to check them. It seems they didn’t do their job either, since they let us enter the EU. Or maybe they were as corrupt as our government at the time? And now they want to say they have the moral high ground? As I said, I am not well informed in this case but if it happened both parties are to blame, even in an unequal rate.

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Oook that’s it! If you want to add something, or ask me further my ask box is open! And thank you for supporting the Greek case! I think we should find a middle ground so neither German nor Greek citizens are harmed by political decisions.