Studying the hundred years war so I can study the war of the roses so I can read Shakespeare so I can read Macchiavelli so I can study the 30 Years War so I can appreciate Rembrandt so I can understand the rise of colonialism as a means of European hegemony so I can read Victor Hugo so I can read Marx so I can read Edward Said so I can read Dune so I can read Fevre Dream so I can read ASOIAF so I can write au fanfiction on the internet
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Ok so I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole of researching period food & recipes, and,,,,
"one fifteenth century recipe contains the word "Chickens" four times-with four different spellings, of which the first is "Schyconys.""
excuse me medieval people but what the fuck
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you were raised in comparison.
it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.
you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.
you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.
what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.
it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.
you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.
you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?
a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.
you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.
it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.
something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.
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The power of hotdogs
Danny is running to Gotham to escape the GIW. As he’s running into an alleyway, he crashes into non other than condiment king who proceeds to attack and hits the GIW goons behind him. This absolutely terrifies them due to the fact that their prestigious white clothes will be stained. The fact that he has people running in terror gives Condiment king a giddy feeling so he proceeds to chase them around Gotham.
Thus starts Danny’s constant exploits of running to condiment king when he’s being chased and the rogue scarring the living daylights out of the GIW. They develop nightmares and Condiment king starts developing new concoctions that will specifically stain clothes and never come out. Mwa ha ha!
Eventually, Danny gets adopted by the rogue and becomes his sidekick. Now, when people learned that condiment king got a new sidekick, they laughed. Who in their right mind would want to mentor under him. They believed that this was some poor sob who was down on their luck and truly desperate. That or some weirdo like the ‘king’ himself.
But they didn’t understand.
They didn’t understand that they should never have let Danny Fenton (known as Phantom) become Condiment King’s sidekick.
Danny knows how to animate hotdogs and other foods to create an army. Danny knows intimately about the secret nasty burger sauce that is capable of powerful explosions of you heat it up. Danny has knowledge in the usage and how to build various weaponry designed to shoot or even be powered by green sludge (which can easily be replaced by ketchup, mustard, or relish).
And he hasn’t even shown Gotham his power-set yet. No one knows why he calls himself phantom. For all they know, he’s just a normal (terrifying) human.
Everyone blames the GIW for this mess.
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there is so much more to be said here but peeta's biggest flaw is his strength and kill me if you want but if you really think about it he's an extremely closed of person. and much more than katniss! when do we see him actually opening up to people - the only time he gets taken care of is when he's physically not well and needs help literally. ,,most of my nightmares are about you so i'm okay once i realize you're there” is sure a sweet and romantic quote but i see so much sadness in it. he doesn't want to be a burden. he doesn't know how to be comforted because maybe no one was there to help him after a bad dream when he was a kid - completely unlike katniss's experience. and what about those dreams that aren't about katniss. she retells her nightmares to peeta and he locks them all inside of himself.
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you've been friends with bakugo since you could crawl. you know every single thing about each other.
he knows your favorite colors. you know his ears turn red when he's lying. he can always make you laugh with that intoned snark, no matter how annoying he is.
you can easily follow the way his lip curls with a sneer, pink and plush in all the ways a childhood friend shouldn't look. he can make out the distinct smell of your perfume... vanilla.. cherries... and something else. something entirely you. he can't keep his eyes from crossing, just a little.
when he can't bear your gaze any longer, he pulls you into a firm but uncharacteristically gentle headlock. there's a spot underneath his ribs that's particularly ticklish; you only use it as a nuclear last resort when escaping his all-too-beefy chokehold - jesus when did he get so big
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i think the most frustrating part about tbosas is the fact that you want to root for coryo. you want him to be a better man for lucy gray. you want him and sejanus to become closer, to become the best friends sejanus believes them to be. you want him to run away and find a way to relearn all the oppressive and tyrannical ideals the capitol instilled in him.
but that’s not what happens.
coriolanus isn’t necessarily a good person. he’s not a bad person either, not yet, but he’s no where near good. and rather than try to be good, he gives up, he lets himself “go bad”, he rats out sejanus, he lets his anger get the best of him and loses lucy gray.
the idea that coryo could be a good person but chooses not to be is exactly the reason this book and this character are brilliant.
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