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bird-inacage · 11 months ago

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Love Sea Episode 9: Lost at Sea before the Finale

Sigh. I had high hopes for this episode, which reached it's apex in the main conflict with Rak's dad (our honorary big bad). But yet again it's at a crucial juncture in the story, where writing and execution have fallen short when it really mattered.

Despite building tension for the past few weeks in service of this moment, it's swiftly deflated with little fuss. I thought the contract-tearing scene would provide a riveting layer of complexity for our characters to navigate. But it's barely a hiccup. The entire pay off we've been hurtling towards just unceremoniously fizzles out.

Here are my observations as to why this episode missed the mark (some of which I hope to dig into when I do a full review of the series).

The 'saviour' plot device. Where a character repeatedly saves the day in service of other characters (regardless of their credentials to do so). This is the role they've boxed Mut in. He swoops in - solves, fixes, pursues, soothes. He's faultless. He's unwavering. He's Rak's hero in shining armour. This isn't fundamentally bad except his capacity is reduced mainly to just that, and the cost is little to no development of his own. I take enormous issue with this because I dearly love Mut. He has great scope for a far more compelling trajectory. We had wonderful insights into his outlook on life in the earlier episodes, which have since taken a noticeable backseat. We are yet to see significant exploration of Mut's struggles, flaws or weaknesses. There appears to be some focus on this in episode 10, but why so little so late?

The women are rendered superfluous. Which isn't helped when we already have a lacklustre GL portrayal. As things go awry - Kwan, Vi and Mook are varying degrees of 'just there'. I would have loved to see the plot utilise the women who know Rak best, to contribute towards bringing Jak down. But the show's priority to aid Mut's heroic efforts, means the women are left with very little to do.

Mut VS Jak. If you compare the two men, Jak is taller and in fairly good shape. Physically, you'd expect more resistance in a fight. When Jak goes down, he barely tries to get up (even when Mut's back is turned). Thus, the outcome of the fight feels unearned, especially if we are to believe this man has violent tendencies that have traumatised his children. (He may not be murderously insane, but still volatile enough to maim his own son). By being so easily overpowered, the takeaway ends up being: 'oh, we needn't have worried'. And this exchange didn't have to be strictly physical either, it could have been psychological. Jak could have taunted Mut like he did in the café, and tried to chip at his resolve. Alternatively, if Rak were the one to overcome his father (in a bid to save Mut), it would show that Rak's love can power through his fear, and he'd gain that lesson through his own agency rather than Mut telling him he should no longer be afraid. (Another symptom of this series is subjugating Rak to a huge degree of passivity).

I'm not sold on Jak's character motivations, based on what we've seen. He's not quite smart or menacing enough to be a calculated sociopath, and he's a shade too conniving for an apathetic loser. If he's as lazy as we've been told, why would he go this far to secure Prin's money, when he's already syphoning finances from Rak and his mother? Couldn't he just sit back and continue to leech with no effort? If his desperation were a result of poor spending, it would at least ground his motive. Or if he's fuelled by the thrill of tormenting his family, we'd need to see mental depravity. Instead, much of Jak's actions feel - dare I say - 'because plot'? (Make your villains more formidable and their eventual downfall will pack more punch).

The few too many plot conveniences. The sillier one being how on earth Rak left the house without anyone noticing? The enormous glass staircase which sits front and centre in an open plan property makes it near impossible to go undetected. Unless he parkoured from his bedroom?

I'm gutted because the show veers towards the more questionable choices at their disposal. The set ups are there. The ideas are there. The parameters are there. It's what they decide to do with them that sadly misfires. This has caused my investment in the story to plummet towards the latter half.

I continue to watch for Fortpeat, and I feel for them because they've worked so hard. There's some lovely acting sprinkled throughout this episode but at this late stage in the series, the plot should be driving things home. Whereas the metaphorical tide keeps moving those goal posts in and out of sight. I hope they can at least round things off on a high note next week.

#love sea #love sea the series #love sea meta #love sea episode 9 #tongrak x mahasamut #rakmut #fortpeat #fort thitipong #peat wasuthorn #my review will be a full on thesis at this rate #ive been rooting for this show but they make some odd choices #the writing seems to particularly falter at the key points in the story #both mut and rak deserve better overall #as do fort and peat

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cutetorture · 30 days ago

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Hi 💔

I’m sorry if this message feels sudden—I truly don’t want to bother anyone. I’m Areej, a 27-year-old English teacher and writer from Gaza 🇵🇸, and I’m reaching out because my family is in desperate need of help.

The war has taken everything. We’ve lost our home 🏚, and we live each day under the constant threat of bombing and starvation 🥀. I’m trying to evacuate my family—my parents, siblings, two small children, a newborn , and my sister who is deaf —to Egypt, where we hope to find safety 🕊️.

If you’re able to donate 💌 or even just share our campaign 🔁, it could bring us one step closer to survival. Every act of kindness means the world right now 🌍🤍.

Thank you for taking a moment to read 🙏

And if you'd prefer not to receive messages like this, please just let me know—I won’t message again.

With love and hope,

Areej 🤍🌿

@supportmykids

please donate and share! @supportmykids

#mut aid

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actualalivecreature · 3 months ago

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hey uh

mut aid request

need $30 urgently, p@ypal works best for me

[email protected]/therileykyle

i will 100% pay this forward when i am able. thanks yall.

#ri speaks #trans #oddcore #queer #nonbinary #liminal #t4t #transsexual #transgender #lgbtq #lgbtqia #disabled #actually disabled

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cornyonmains · 1 year ago

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Finally got around to watching Love Sea episode 4, and things are coming together a bit better for me. It's now more clear that Rak is using the money more to keep Mut at an emotional distance than to repeat the mistakes of his mother, which I think is a better narrative choice.

Mut calling Rak on just that pleasantly surprised me too, as I assumed they were setting the entire financial agreement up to use for the cursed episode, but it looks like Mut isn't going to let him get away with that by basically saying, "Look, I'll play along a little, because it's what you need, but you're going to have to get over this shit eventually, and I'm not helping you aid this delusion." You draw those lines Mut, you draw the shit out of them.

I'm trying to like Mook as a character, but I'm struggling. The girl has boundary and maturity issues. I suppose that makes her well suited for Vie, though, who I do like. At least her boundary issues are kind of funny. I did like how Tongrak handled Mook prying too deeply into his affairs by blasting her with more information than she wanted. It delivers the point without being terribly mean.

I like how casually sex work is handled in Thai media as well, with the idea of potentially being in a long term relationship with a sex worker treated as a normal thing. I'm assuming attitudes in Thailand itself probably aren't so casual, but it's a bit of normalization you don't see very often. Sex work is real work. I'm here for it.

The overall pacing of this episode didn't work for me. I think they blew a lot of their budget on filming all those underwater scenes, because those cost a fortune, and it left them stuck having to condense a bit too much into too few episodes, hence a lot of filler and exposition. You can especially see it in the big emotional jumps the characters took between episodes 2 and 3. It was too fast. That being said, I do appreciate that studios are taking risks, and dealing with the growing pains that come with trying to produce higher quality content. It's a learning curve, and I don't expect these very young studios to get everything right overnight. I'm happy to see them trying. It's hard for these studios to get the money to take chances in the first place.

#Love Sea #Love Sea the series #MutRak #FortPeat #Thai Bl

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paparoach · 7 months ago

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Goodnight ^_^

#🩸.txt #reblog my mut aid post please.

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sleekervae · 5 months ago

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Wicked Games ❅ 23

Masterlist

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x socialite!fem!reader

Summary: inauguration day

Warnings: politicians being politicians, politics (might be triggering to some), Volumnia Gaul (lol), threats, breaking and entering

Word Count: 3,799

Coriolanus drifted into sleep easily, the exhaustion of his recovery weighing on him more then he realized. His body still ached from the aftereffects of the poison, but the steady rhythm of Sable's heartbeat and the quiet comfort of his surroundings lulled him into a peaceful, dreamless slumber. The penthouse was quiet, its luxurious, expansive rooms hushed with the evening’s stillness.

Sable lay curled up beside him, her presence a constant, grounding him even in sleep. She had taken one of the books from his vast collection, its pages softly rustling as she turned them, though her attention wandered between the words and the figure lying next to her. She still felt the lingering unease from everything that had happened—how close she had come to losing him, how easily it could have all gone wrong. But now, with him resting beside her, she felt a fragile sense of relief.

Every now and then, Coriolanus stirred, his sleep broken by brief moments of awareness. His eyelids fluttered open, the blurry outline of the room coming into focus just enough for him to register her presence. Each time, he was met with the sight of Sable still there, her form tucked beside him, her attention shifting from the book to him in quiet concern. Her eyes, soft yet alert, would flicker toward him, and a small, comforting smile would cross her lips when their gazes met.

He felt better with her there—her steady breathing, the warmth of her body close to his, the silent understanding that no words could express. It was enough. With each glance, he felt his heart slow, the tension in his chest loosening. The weight of everything—his survival, his looming presidency, the madness of the past few days—seemed less suffocating with her beside him.

Sable set the book down for a moment, her hand lightly brushing his forehead as she checked for any lingering signs of discomfort. Coriolanus shifted slightly, leaning into the touch, his hand unconsciously reaching for hers. She intertwined her fingers with his, holding on gently, feeling the reassurance in the gesture.

As Coriolanus drifted back into sleep, a small, tired smile crossed his face. His breathing deepened, and his body relaxed further into the bed. Even in the quiet of the room, in the stillness of his sleep, he knew that with Sable there, everything felt more manageable.

Garrison paced back and forth in his office, his usually composed demeanor unraveling by the second. Papers were strewn across his desk, and his jacket hung precariously off one shoulder as he struggled to get his arms through the sleeves. The air in the room felt tense, charged with his palpable frustration.

“Damn it, Peterson!” Garrison barked into the phone, pinning the receiver between his ear and shoulder as he yanked the jacket into place. His free hand gestured wildly as if that would somehow make his aide comprehend faster. “I told you to have the invoices on my desk an hour ago! I don’t care about traffic or whatever nonsense excuse you’ve cooked up—just get it done!”

He slammed a stack of papers into a drawer, then slammed it shut just as furiously. “And make sure the press doesn’t get wind of the inauguration location, got it? I don’t want to incur a press flood! We’ve got enough fires to put out already.”

Garrison's breath came quick, and his frustration seemed to grow as he struggled to juggle the chaos surrounding Coriolanus's sudden rise and the political aftermath. He shoved an unlit cigar into his mouth, only to bite down on it with an audible crack, too agitated to even enjoy it.

His assistant, visibly flustered and equally disheveled, stood near the door, holding several folders while waiting for the next round of impossible demands.

“I swear to God,” Garrison muttered under his breath, before shouting, “Why the hell does everything need to fall apart all at once? It’s like people are allergic to doing their jobs!”

Peterson’s muffled voice crackled on the other end of the line, but Garrison cut him off before he could explain. “No! I don’t care! I have to go!”

As he continued fumbling with his coat, trying to yank it into place properly, Garrison's focus shifted again before barking into the receiver, “I don't know! Why in the hell would he be sending me to the jeweller’s anyway?!”

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains of Coriolanus’ penthouse, casting a warm glow over the room as he paced, rehearsing his inaugural speech. His voice, confident but measured, filled the space, echoing off the sleek, minimalist décor. Behind him, Sable stood at her vanity, adjusting the light blue tweed jacket that hugged her figure, the matching tea-length skirt brushing delicately against her legs. Her eyes, though focused on smoothing out the fabric, occasionally flicked up to watch him in the mirror, a soft smile playing on her lips.

In the days leading up to this moment—his inauguration as President—they had found a surprising calm amidst the storm of recent events. After the chaos of the gala, the hospital, and the rapid media frenzy surrounding the election, Coriolanus and Sable had retreated into their private world. Together, they had kept a low profile, avoiding the spectacle of public life as much as possible. Instead, they filled their days with each other.

There had been lazy mornings spent curled up in bed, the city far below them, lost in each other's presence. Cooking together became a quiet ritual, a way to distract themselves from the whirlwind of politics. Coriolanus would take the lead, chopping vegetables or stirring a simmering pot, while Sable offered her assistance in small ways—setting the table, pouring wine, or simply standing beside him, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. They shared quiet conversations over simple meals, savouring the intimacy that had bloomed between them.

Their infatuation, once driven by ambition and the high stakes of their shared schemes, had deepened into something more grounded, more tangible. It was in the way they moved in sync, how Sable would finish his thoughts before he even voiced them, or how Coriolanus would reach out to touch her arm, her back, as if reminding himself that she was still there—still his. The tension that had once hung between them, born of manipulation and mistrust, had melted away. What remained was an undeniable connection, one that felt stronger with each passing day.

In the quiet moments between planning and preparation, their bond had only grown stronger. They found solace in each other’s arms, their intimacy now a comfort rather than a power play. Sable had taken to sitting by his side late at night as Coriolanus worked through drafts of his speech, her hand resting lightly on his knee or her head leaning against his shoulder. He would pause, his gaze drifting from the papers in front of him to her, and in those moments, nothing else mattered. She was his anchor, just as much as he was hers.

And now, as she watched him through the mirror, preparing for the moment he had worked so hard to achieve, she felt none of the apprehension that had once plagued her. The fear of losing him, of things unraveling, had given way to a quiet confidence. They were not competitors anymore, each striving for their own gains. They were a unit—bound together by their shared ambition, but also by something deeper, something that had been forged in the fire of everything they had endured.

Coriolanus, sensing her gaze, glanced over at her reflection in the mirror. His words faltered for a moment, but the smile that curved his lips spoke volumes. In that moment, the weight of his impending presidency, the gravity of what lay ahead, felt lighter with her by his side.

"How do I look?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

Sable turned slightly, her brown eyes meeting his in the mirror. "Like you're about to take on the world," she replied, "What about me?"

His gaze swept over her outfit, admiration evident in his expression as he moved toward her, "Like you're exactly where you're supposed to be,"

Sable’s breath caught as Coriolanus leaned in, capturing her lips in a frantic, heated kiss that spoke of everything they had endured. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her closer still as if to anchor himself in the reality of her presence. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her fingers threading through his hair, the world outside their shared space fading into insignificance.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” she whispered, her voice breathless between their kisses. Her free hand brushed the edge of his jaw, tracing the lines of his face as if committing him to memory, as if afraid he might disappear.

Coriolanus pulled back for the briefest of moments, his forehead resting against hers as his breath mingled with hers. “My Sable,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple as he spoke. His voice was low, almost pleading. “My beautiful First Lady,"

Sable let out a soft laugh, taken by his words as Coriolanus pulled her in for another kiss, his lips brushing hers in a teasing rhythm. “We really need to go,” she mumbled between kisses, though her protests were half-hearted at best. His hands on her waist felt too good, grounding her to the moment as he grinned against her lips.

“We’ve got time,” Coriolanus murmured, stealing yet another kiss, playful but lingering. “Plenty of time,” he added, his lips barely leaving hers before diving back in, his tone daring her to challenge him.

Sable giggled, gently pushing at his chest. “No, we don’t,” she insisted, though her fingers betrayed her, curling into his shirt instead of pushing him away. “We really need to leave.”

He paused for a fraction of a second, looking down at her with an impish smirk. “I’m pretty sure we can be late just this once,” he teased, leaning back in before she could protest, his kisses growing slower, more deliberate, as if savoring every second.

Sable tried to remain firm, but the warmth of his lips and the way his hands slid up her back had her melting. She sighed, giving in just a little. “Coriolanus, seriously,” she said, her voice barely a whisper now, though she wasn’t pulling away anymore.

“Let them miss us,” he chuckled softly, brushing a kiss along her jaw, his breath warm against her skin. “They can't start without me, after all.”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a grin. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, but her words were laced with affection. Still, she nudged him gently. “Come on, the President can't be late on his first day.”

He groaned dramatically but stole one last kiss, lingering longer than necessary before finally letting her go. “Fine,” he relented with a lazy grin. “But we’re picking this up later.”

Sable shook her head, trying to stifle a laugh, though the giddy feeling in her chest refused to settle. “Deal,” she said, stealing one last quick peck as she pulled him toward the door.

The camera panned across the bustling streets of the Capitol, capturing every flicker of excitement, every smiling face, and the grandeur of a city on the brink of celebration. The golden hue of the setting sun bathed the crowd in warmth, and the iconic voice of Lucky Flickerman echoed through every home, every screen, his lively tone adding to the buzz.

“And here we are, folks, on this historic day! The day Coriolanus Snow takes his place as President of Panem!” Lucky’s voice rang out, brimming with charisma. “The energy in the Capitol is nothing short of electric, and why wouldn’t it be? This is the dawn of a new era!”

Sable stood beside Coriolanus, her hand delicately resting on his arm, her posture poised yet proud. The crowd before them was vast, stretching out in all directions, a sea of faces eagerly awaiting the moment. Tigris stood on Coriolanus’s other side, her sharp eyes glimmering with quiet pride, always the pillar of support, always the protector.

Lucky’s voice carried on, narrating the scene with the enthusiasm only he could muster. “Citizens of Panem, look at that unity! Look at the hope! And the fashion!” the camera panned between Sable's subdued, blue tweed set and Tigris' more abstract, yet elegant creamy pink gown.

Garrison, standing just a few steps behind, seemed unusually calm. His typical restlessness was absent, replaced by a serene stillness that Sable couldn’t help but notice. For once, Garrison’s sharp tongue and usual jibes were nowhere to be found. Perhaps it was the gravity of the moment, or maybe—just maybe—he was content to watch all of his hard work finally pay off.

The crowd roared as Coriolanus stepped up to the podium, the sound of their cheers reverberating through the towering buildings. Cameras zoomed in, broadcasting the image of their new president to every district, every household. The weight of the moment was palpable, and Sable felt a surge of pride as Coriolanus raised his hand, ready to take the oath that would seal his place in history.

Lucky’s voice softened, almost reverent now. “And here it is, the oath of office. The words that will bind Coriolanus Snow to his duty, to all of Panem.”

The crowd hushed. The air seemed to still as Coriolanus began to speak, his voice steady, powerful. His eyes scanned the crowd before landing briefly on Sable and Tigris. She caught his gaze, offering a soft, encouraging smile. This was his moment, but it felt like theirs too. A culmination of everything they had fought for, every sacrifice they had made.

“I, Coriolanus Snow, do solemnly swear…”

As he recited the oath, Sable could feel the collective anticipation swelling around her, the weight of Panem’s future balanced on the edge of every word.

Lucky Flickerman’s voice returned, this time quieter, as if even he didn’t want to interrupt the sanctity of the moment. “This, my friends, is the promise of a brighter tomorrow. A future of peace, prosperity, and stability. And with President Snow at the helm, it’s a future we can all believe in.”

The applause was deafening as Coriolanus finished the oath, the Capitol erupting in a celebration unlike any other. Confetti rained from above, swirling in a kaleidoscope of colors. Fireworks cracked in the distance, filling the sky with bursts of light. The jubilation was contagious, a shared joy that rippled through the crowd like wildfire.

Sable glanced at Coriolanus as he turned to face the cheering masses. His expression was unreadable, but she knew him well enough to recognize the triumph in his eyes. For a brief moment, he looked back at her and Tigris, his mouth curling into the smallest of smiles. It was fleeting, but it was there—a silent acknowledgment of what they had achieved together.

Nothing could touch him not. Especially not Lucy Gray.

As the applause began to settle and the confetti rained down in glittering showers, Coriolanus was immediately surrounded by eager aides and Capitol officials, all clamoring to capture this momentous occasion. Among them, a photographer stepped forward, gesturing for Coriolanus to gather for an official portrait.

“President Snow, a group photo for the press?” the photographer asked, his voice polite but firm as he prepared his camera.

Coriolanus’s eyes flicked to Sable first, his expression softening just slightly. Without hesitation, he reached for her hand, his grip firm and possessive, yet reassuring. He held it tightly, their fingers intertwining in a way that felt both protective and intimate. She smiled, a warmth spreading across her face as she stepped closer to him, standing proudly at his side.

Tigris took her place on Coriolanus’s other side, her elegant presence calm and composed. Garrison joined them, standing just behind, his usual sharp energy subdued as he gazed out at the Capitol with a rare look of serenity. For once, he seemed content to just be there—a witness to everything they had worked for.

The photographer gave a small nod, snapping a few shots as the group stood together, the Capitol behind them. “Perfect, just perfect,” he murmured, adjusting his angle for another frame. “One more!”

Coriolanus turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on Sable. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the world around them seemed to fade. He gave her a small, genuine smile, one that was only for her. Sable felt her heart flutter as she returned the smile, her own eyes softening as they exchanged an affectionate glance—so subtle, yet unmistakable. It was a look that spoke of shared triumph, of trust and closeness.

The camera clicked, capturing the quiet moment between them, forever immortalizing it against the backdrop of the Capitol's celebratory chaos.

“Beautiful,” the photographer said with a grin, catching the exchange through his lens. “Absolutely beautiful.”

As the photographer stepped back, Coriolanus gently squeezed Sable’s hand once more, anchoring himself to her. He then turned to the crowd again, his face once more composed, but Sable could still feel the weight of that look between them. The future was uncertain, filled with challenges they could only begin to imagine, but in this moment, standing together, they were ready for it all.

Phillip Hanover sat in his grand but quiet home, his eyes fixed on the screen broadcasting the inauguration. The Capitol’s splendor was on full display, its people cheering, confetti falling like rain as Coriolanus Snow took his oath of office. The scene filled the room with noise and light, but Phillip felt only a dull ache in his chest.

It wasn’t the sight of Coriolanus ascending to power that dismayed him the most—though the thought of the man his daughter had attached herself to becoming president of Panem filled him with unease. It was the knowledge that, despite everything, the Snow family had won.

Still, amidst his disappointment, there was a small sense of relief. He could see Sable on the screen, standing proudly beside Coriolanus, her hand firmly in his. She looked radiant, her eyes shining with something Phillip hadn’t seen in her in years—happiness. For all his misgivings about Coriolanus, Phillip couldn't deny that his daughter appeared to be genuinely content. She was well cared for, no doubt. Protected. Loved, perhaps. And if that was the cost of her being part of this grand spectacle, then so be it.

Phillip sighed, leaning back in his chair, trying to quell the unsettling feeling in his stomach. As the camera zoomed in on Coriolanus and Sable, he switched off the volume, plunging the room into silence. He stared at the flashing screen for a long moment, his thoughts heavy, until a knock at the door jolted him from his reverie.

It was late—too late for casual visitors. And Eleanor and Seline wouldn't be back for a while. Phillip felt a chill creep down his spine. He rose slowly, his feet moving across the thick carpet with deliberate slowness. When he opened the door, his breath caught.

Volumnia Gaul stood in the doorway, her presence cold and calculating, her sharp eyes gleaming with something that sent a jolt of dread through him. She looked the same as always—impeccably dressed, composed—but there was an unmistakable tension in the air around her. Her jaw was tight, her lips pressed into a thin line, but it was the way she stared at him that made Phillip’s stomach churn.

"Dr. Gaul,” he greeted, forcing a calmness into his voice that he didn’t feel. “What brings you here?”

Volumnia stepped inside without an invitation, her movements precise and unhurried, like a predator closing in on its prey. She didn’t answer him immediately. Instead, she walked deeper into the room, surveying his home as if it were a curiosity, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of a table.

“Your little plan,” she finally said, her voice quiet, but the anger beneath it unmistakable, “failed.”

Phillip’s heart skipped a beat. He swallowed, trying to maintain his composure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Volumnia turned to face him, her eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. “Don’t play dumb, Hanover. The poison. The one you gave me.” She took a step closer, her presence suffocating. “It was nothing but a dud.”

Phillip’s throat went dry. He had been sure—absolutely sure—that the poison he had procured for her was lethal, a concoction that would have allowed her to rid herself of Coriolanus in secret. But if she was standing here now, fury radiating off of her in waves, then something had gone terribly wrong.

“I don’t know how—”

Volumnia cut him off, her voice slicing through the air. “Put the clues together, Phillip. You’re not as dull as you pretend to be. The poison you gave me was switched out.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Remember the gala? Someone ensured that I was left with nothing but a bottle of damn water while the real poison found its way down the throats of all the Presidential candidates. Leaving us with no one else but Coriolanus Snow!”

Phillip’s pulse quickened as her words sank in. The gala. The confusion. The chaos of that night. He had underestimated not just Volumnia but the players in this twisted game. “So, someone outsmarted me?”

“Someone outsmarted us both,” she hissed, her eyes flashing with fury. “And now Snow is not only alive but thriving, thanks to your incompetence.”

Phillip felt the walls closing in. He had miscalculated. Misjudged. And now, with Coriolanus Snow at the height of his power, Volumnia Gaul was seething with vengeance.

“There must have been a mistake,” Phillip stammered, trying to find a way out. “I can fix this—”

“Oh, you’ll pay for it, Hanover,” she replied, cutting him off once again, her eyes gleaming with malice. “One way or another.”

Phillip tried to back away, but Volumnia’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist tightly. Her eyes bore into his, and for a moment, he could almost feel the noose tightening around his neck.

“You’ve sealed your fate, Phillip,” she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. “And I’ll make sure you regret every moment of it.” her eyes fell to the TV, watching the couple celebrate among the masses. Her gaze didn't linger on Coriolanus so much, it was Sable in her eyesight.

Then, as quickly as she had come, Volumnia released him and turned to leave, her steps graceful, her presence chilling. Phillip stood frozen, his mind racing, his heart hammering in his chest as the door clicked shut behind her.

The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating. Phillip sank back into his chair, his hands trembling. He had miscalculated, and now Volumnia Gaul would make sure he paid the price.

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aktivistaverein · 2 months ago

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Unsere geplanten Pride-Präsenzen 2025

In der Hoffnung auf trockenes Wetter plant AktivistA auch dieses Jahr wieder, ein paar Prides zu besuchen. Dabei kooperieren wir wie so häufig mit den lokalen Stammtischen/Treffs und Aspec*German.

Der Start ist wie immer in Süddeutschland. Bei Interesse am Mitdemonstrieren könnt ihr einfach auftauchen oder uns bzw. den Aces und Aros Hamburg kurz Bescheid geben. Nutzt dazu unser Kontaktformular, den Aspec*German-Discord, oder, wenn ihr sie schon kennt, die einschlägigen Kanäle. Wir freuen uns über fantasievolle Looks in ace, aro oder apl Farben, sie sind aber logischerweise keine Pflicht.

Zunächst die Terminübersicht ...

Samstag, 7. Juni, CSD Karlsruhe: Fußgruppe bei der Demo.

Samstag, 14. Juni, CSD Pforzheim: Infostand.

Samstag, 26. Juli, Stuttgart Pride: Fußgruppe bei der Demoparade Sonntag, 27.Juli, Stuttgart Pride: Infostand bei der AIDS-Hilfe-Hocketse

Freitag, 1. August bis Sonntag, 3. August, Hamburg Pride, Infostand beim Straßenfest. Demogruppe am 2. August organisiert durch Asexuelle & Aromantische Community Hamburg.

Ein paar Hinweise, und: Eure Prides brauchen Euch!

Zur Basis-Ausrüstung gehören neben zum Wetter passender Kleidung und Sonnenschutz auch Lärmschutz, alkoholfreies Trinken, ggf. Snacks und individuelle Bedarfe.

Achtet bitte auf euch, egal zu welcher Pride-Veranstaltung ihr geht. Schaut vorher, ob die Veranstaltenden Tipps und Sicherheitshinweise für euch haben. Das gesellschaftliche Klima ist rauer geworden, und selbst falls bis Juni irgendwer den Mut hat, ein Verbotsverfahren gegen die AfD einzuleiten: Die Nazis und religiösen Fundis werden davon leider nicht weniger.

Gleichzeitig springen aus diversen Gründen Sponsoren ab -- mal, weil die Wirtschaftslage nicht gut ist, mal, weil das Fähnchen im Wind bequemer ist. Alle Organisationen, die CSDs veranstalten, freuen sich über Spenden, klar. Aber manchmal müssen CSDs in eurer Nähe um ihre Existenz kämpfen. Wenn ihr Geld übrig habt, könntet ihr zum Beispiel einen CSD-Verein mit einer Spende oder einer Mitgliedschaft unterstützen.

#csd karlsruhe #csd pforzheim #stuttgart pride #hamburg pride #lgbtiqa+

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djed-anp-ef-ankh · 1 year ago

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Deity Archives: Khonsu

Also known as: Chons/Khons, Chonsu, Khensu, Khenshu

Different depictions of the moon god Khonsu, image from TheMarySue

Depictions

Khonsu himself is usually depicted as the son of Mut and Amin and shares their major worship center of Thebes. However, there were also other affiliations, and sometimes he'd be claimed as the son of Sobek and Hathor as depicted on the Kom Ombo Temple. Khonsu is also associated with Osiris, Shu, Horus, and Thoth with the latter most often being assimilated with Khonsu. Khonsu typically appears as either a young man with the side lock hair of youth and wearing his lunar headdress, or as a falcon-headed man with a lunar headdress.

Epithets

Embracer

Pathfinder

Defender

Decider of the Lifespan

The one who lives on hearts

Who traverses Egypt in order to rule the two halves in his great name

Pendulum of Heaven

Divider of Months

heart of Ra, Who knows all things

the lion, great in strength

He who makes slaughter of the foes of the wadjet eye

Khonsu the Child

Khonsu the Provider

Spellcaster of Thebes and Chaser of Demons

Associations

hawks

falcons

crescent moons

opals

the color white

baboons

side-lock of youth

Areas of Influence/Invoking

fertility

childbirth

protection against wild animals

protection for nighttime travel

healing

combating against negative spirits and presences

time

Overview - History and Mythos Part 1: The Cannibal Hymn and the Bentresh Stela

Khonsu is considered to be the personification of the moon as it travels across the sky. In the Pyramid Texts' "Cannibal Hymn," he aids the deceased pharaoh in slaying enemies and deities in the underworld to make the pharaoh stronger. It wasn't until the New Kingdom era that Khonsu was recognized as not only a god with this dark aspect of consuming souls, but also as a god of protective positive aspects as well. Such dominions include childbirth and healing ailments, and it is said that Khonsu "causes the crescent moon to shine, to make women conceive, to enable cattle to become fertile, and for all nostrils and throats to be filled with air." He was also often invoked for protection during nighttime travel and for protection against wild animals.

On a stela that was found in Thebes, known as the Bentresh Stela, there is an inscription that tells the story of how Ramses II had married the king of Bakhtan's daughter, Nefrure, as a treaty and diplomatic venture and went on to invoke Khonsu to save his sister-in-law's life while away. In summary, when Ramses II returned to Egypt after this marriage, a messenger was sent to him stating that Nefrure's sister, Bentresh, had fallen ill from a spirit possession. Ramses II then commissioned a statue to be made of a form of Khonsu (either Khonsu the Provider or Khonsu Spellcaster of Thebes and Chaser of Demons). This statue would be sent to his wife and sister-in-law; when received, it was said that Bentresh was instantly cured of this possession.

Translations of the Bentresh Stela heavily imply that Khonsu could not only be presented in multiple forms and faces but that these forms are separate and can interact with one another. The most recognized forms are Khonsu pa-khered (Khonsu the Child), Khonsu pa-ir-sekher (Khonsu the Provider), Khonsu heseb-ahau (Khonsu, Decider of the Lifespan), and Khonsu em-waset Neferhotep (Khonsu in Thebes-Neferhotep). In the stela, the Khonsu that had gone to Bakhtan had accepted the offerings given to him by the king and had stayed there for about a year. However, this form of Khonsu (most likely Khonsu, Spellcaster of Thebes and Chaser of Demons, though other sources say Konhsu the Provider) had eventually gone back to Egypt and kept none of the offerings given to him; rather, he had given the offerings to the Khonsu in Thebes-Neferhotep. It was also shown that, before the visit, Khonsu in Thebes-Neferhotep and Khonsu the Provider conversed by the request of Ramses II and gave the latter Khonsu magical protections as seen here:

"His Majesty then reported to Khons-in-Thebes-Neferhotep, saying: 'Good Lord, I report to you concerning the daughter of the prince of Bakhtan.' Then Khons-in-Thebes-Neferhotep proceeded to Khons-the-Provider, the great god who expels disease demons. Then His Majesty said to Khons-in-Thebes-Neferhotep: 'Good Lord, will you turn your face to Khons-the-Provider, the great god who expels disease demons, making him go to Bakhtan?' A very strongly approving nod. Then His Majesty said: 'Give your magical protection to him, and I will let His Majesty go to Bakhtan to save the daughter of the prince of Bakhtan.' A very strongly approving nod of the head from Khons-in-Thebes-Neferhotep. Then he created magical protection for Khons-the-Provider-in-Thebes four times." -- Except from the Mark-Jan Nederhof translation (2006.)

The Bentresh Stela

Top left: a priest offers incense to a barque carrying a form of Khonsu known as Khonsu-Spellcaster-of-Thebes-and-Chaser-of-Demons. Top right: Ramses II, presents incense to a bargue carrying a form of Khonsu known as "Khonsu-in-Thebes-Neferhotep." Inscription beneath tells the story of Ramses II and the Bakhtan princess.

Karnak, Egypt, 21st Dynasty. Paris, Musee de Louvre, C 284.

It's interesting to note that though this stela tells of Ramses II from the 19th Dynasty, the stela itself dates back to the 21st Dynasty. Thus this inscription is a story that is thought to have happened in the past.

Overview - History and Mythos Part 2: Khonsu's role in Wep Ronpet

A classic mythology concerning Khonsu sees towards his domains as the ruler of time, months, and of the night. The starry goddess, Nut, had become pregnant with her brother Geb, but Ra who feared anyone taking his throne as king of the gods forbade Nut from birthing on any day of the year. Nut then asked for Thoth to help, and so the god of wisdom approached the god of time and of the moon, Khonsu, to gamble on a game of Senet: each time that Khonsu would lose, he would have to give Thoth some moonlight. Thoth, after winning as much as he needed, then crafted the moonlight to form five extra days at the end of the 360-day year. Because these extra five days were not considered to be part of the year, Nut was able to conceive a child on each of those five days. These children were Osiris, Horus the Elder, Isis, Set, and Nepthys. From this story, we have our basis for the holiday Wep Ronpet that some modern Kemetics celebrate sometime in August.

Resources

Ancient Egypt Online - The Temple of Kom Ombo

Ancient History Encyclopedia - Bakhtan Stela

Bentresh Stela translation by Mark-Jan Nederhof

Kemetic Orthodoxy - Khonsu

Neoalexandria - Khonsu

The Complete Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Egypt by Richard H. Wilkinson p 113

Plutarch's Moralia (Loeb)/Isis and Osiris. Translated by Babbitt, Frank. p. 12.

#deity archives #Khonsu #egyptian mythology #kemeticism #paganblr #egyptian gods #witchblr

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