Latest Posts by whoamiorami - Page 5

this scene deserved at least 10 emmys 

why did this crack me up

ron weasley really, at the age of thirteen, stood on a broken leg between his best friend and a man he thought to be a mass murderer and said “if you want to kill harry, you’ll have to go through me first” and yet some of y’all STILL think he was a bad friend/person/character

I guess it felt wrong to leave you. [404 / 413]

Tyrelliot Appreciation Week → Day 1: Favourite Quote.

“Bonsoir, Elliot.” 

tyrelliot appreciation week | day 2: favourite “happy” moment:

“S-sure… I eat lunch.”

“So you are like the rest of us.”

Paris Fashion Week | January 20, 2019

I think you’re the only person I know that actually likes me.

                                                               I love him.

#they deserved better

#a very serious show about hacking

Rami Malek by Matthew Kristall for Mr Porter

s01e01 & s04e13 Movie poster over the subway entrance.

1.01 // 4.11

I deeply appreciate how ATLA depicts all the main characters responses to trauma. Aang’s, for me, however, stands out for its rareness in media. And we are not hammered over the head with the idea that Aang (or any other characters) repeatedly act certain ways because of a single traumatic event. Sure, there are key moments in our lives when a certain event comes to the forefront, but no one experiences the world as constant flashbacks. Rather, we see only in retrospect the way our sarcastic sense of humor or our heightened friendliness were protective responses to a deep emotional injury. Being able to understand Aang’s approach to loss is essential for the show. The structure of the series is founded on his arc (despite an incredible foil provided by Zuko). Our little air nomad initially confronts the loss of his people with a full-on meltdown in the episode “The Southern Air Temple,” where Katara’s offering of familial belonging soothes him. But this kind of outburst is not Aang’s primary response (and actually the literally out-of-character apocalyptic tantrums align with Aang’s overall process of grieving). Instead of constantly brooding (hey Zuko!), Aang leans heavily toward the monk’s pacifist teachings and toward his assumed destiny “to save the world.” He becomes overtly accommodating and joyful, constantly trying to see “the good” in everything with a perfectionist’s zeal. This is not to ascribe his bubbliness only to his trauma. Rather, he comes to emphasize this part of his personality for reasons related to the negative emotions he struggles to face.  Book 1: Water

In the first season, Aang is simply rediscovering his place in the world. “Water is the element of change. The people of the water tribe are capable of adapting to many things. They have a sense of community and love that holds them together.” This is vital to Aang as he initially faces his experience. He won’t get through this if he is not prepared for his life to change. Even if he hadn’t been frozen for 100 years, his world would never be the same. This fact involves eventually finding new people that he feels safe with. After such a massive loss, he’s learning who to trust, and also often making mistakes; not only does he find Sokka and Katara (and I’d argue he’s actually slow to truly open up to them), this is the season where he helps save a fire nation citizen who betrays him to soldiers, befriends the rebel extremist Jet, and attempts to befriend an actively belligerent Zuko (his moral complexity had only JUST! been revealed to the kid!). He’s constantly offering trust to others and seeking their approval in opposition to the deep well of shame and guilt he carries as a survivor of violence. This is also the season where Aang swears off firebending after burning Katara in an overeager attempt to master the element (one will note how fire throughout the series is aligned with, above all else, assertiveness and yang). Aang is so eager to be seen as morally good to others that he refuses to risk any possible harm to them.  And asserting himself carries a danger, in one sense, that he might make a mistake and lose someone’s positive regard, and, in another sense, that he is replicating the anger and violence he’s witnessed. He has no relationship to his anger at this stage of his grief, so it comes out uncontrollably, both in firebending and the Avatar State. It’s through the patience of his new family that he can begin to feel unashamed about his past and about the ways his shame is finding (sometimes violent) expression in the present. Book 2: Earth In the second season he begins to trust himself and stand his ground. Earth, after all, is the element of substance, persistence, and endurance. The “Bitter Work” episode encapsulates how Aang must come to a more sturdy sense of his values. First, there is the transition of pedagogical style. While Katara emphasized support and kindness, Toph insists on blunt and threatening instruction, not for a lack of care towards Aang. Instead, it’s so Aang learns how to stop placing the desires of others above his own–to stop accommodating everyone else above his own needs. Toph taunts Aang by stealing one of the few keepsakes from the monastery that he holds onto. This attachment to the lost airbending culture is echoed in the larger arc with Appa. And, by the end of this episode, it is Aang’s attachment to Sokka that allows him to stand firm. This foreshadows the capital T Tragic downfall in the “Crossroads of Destiny.” Aang gives up his attachment to the other member of his new found family, Katara, despite his moral qualms. Although he has access to all the power of the Avatar state, his sacrifice is not rewarded. Season 2 illustrates Aang coming to terms with his values. He is learning about what he stands for, what holds meaning to him. Understanding himself also includes integrating his grief, and there’s a lonely and dangerous aspect to that exploration. We see Aang’s anger and hopelessness over longer stretches rather than outbursts in this season. It’s hard to watch and hard to root for him. That depressive state leads to actions that counter his previous sense of morality, as he decisively kills an animal, treats his friends unkindly, and blames others for his loss. Letting these harsher feelings emerge is an experiment, and most people discover their boundaries by crossing them. Finding ways to hold compassion for himself, even the harm he causes others, is the other side of this process. Our past and our challenging emotions are a part of us, but they are only a part. Since Aang now has a strong sense of community and is learning to be himself rather than simply seeking validation, we also see him having more healthy boundaries with new people. He’s no longer befriending villains in the second season! He’s respectful and trusting enough, but he’s not putting himself in vulnerable situations nor blindly trusting everyone. Instead, he’s more likely to listen to his friends’ opinions or think about how the monks might’ve been critical towards something (they’re complaints about Ba Sing Se, for example). By knowing what he cares for, he can know himself, the powerful, loving, grief-struck monk. And he can trust that, though he might not be everyone’s favorite person, he does not need to feel ashamed or guilty for who he is or what he’s been through. Book 3: Fire However, despite a sense of self and a sense of belonging, Aang and the group still find themselves constantly asking for permission throughout their time in Ba Sing Se. It’s in the third season, Fire, that initiative and assertiveness become the focus. And who better to provide guidance in this than the official prince of “you never think these things through,” Zuko. It’s no longer a time for avoidance or sturdy defensiveness. It is the season of action. Fire is the element of power, desire, and will, all of which require us to impact others.  We see the motif of initiative throughout the season: the rebels attempt to storm the Firelord on the Day of the Black Sun; Aang attempts to share his feelings and kiss Katara; Katara bends Hama and a couple of fire nation soldiers to her will. In each of these examples, the initiators face disgrace. Positive intent does not bring forth success, by any means, only more consequences to be dealt with. This is perhaps Aang’s biggest challenge. He is afraid that his actions will fail, or worse, they will succeed but he will be wrong in what he has chosen. The sequencing in the series, here, is important. We have already seen how Aang has worked to care for (and appreciate) the well-being of others and how he has learned to care for his own needs. With this in mind, he should be able to trust that his actions will derive from these wells of compassion. But easier said than done. Compassion can also trap him into indecision, hearkening back to his avoidant mistake in the storm, in which the whole mess began. Aang’s internal conflict, here, becomes more pronounced as the finale draws nearer. I think it’s especially significant that we witness Aang disagreeing with his mentors and friends. He must act in a way that will contradict and even threaten his sources of support if he is to trust his own desires. Even the fandom disagrees about the choice Aang makes, which further highlights the fact that making a decisive choice is contentious. There is no point in believing it will grant you love or admiration or success. For someone who began (and spent much of) the series regularly sacrificing himself just to bring others peace, Aang’s decision to prioritize his own interests despite the very explicit possibility of failure is the ultimate growth his character can have and the ultimate representation of him processing his trauma. (This arc was echoed and made even more explicit in many ways with Adora in the She-ra finale.) The last significant time Aang followed his desire, in his mind, was when he escaped the Air Temple in the storm. To want something, to trust his desire and act on it, is an act of incredible courage for him, and whether it succeeded or failed, whether anyone agrees or disagrees with it, it offered Aang a sense of peace and resolution. Now I appreciate and love Zuko’s iconic redemption arc, but Aang’s subtler arc, which subverts the “chosen one” narrative and broke ground to represent a prevalent emotional experience, stands out to me as the foundation for the show I love so much.

the Moon in “The Goldfinch”, part 1

It seems the moon plays a great part in “The Goldfinch”. Boris’s Arabic name is Badr al-Dine which means “The full moon of Faith”; according to Theo’s father Theo’s zodiac sign is Cancer, and the ruling planet of Cancer is the moon; Theo’s mother tells him her childhood story about being homesick and cured by the presence of the moon... Pure coincidence? Let’s run through the book and do some research.

The very first time we meet the moon on the pages is right after the explosion when Theo explains to the reader what he sees.

An image of a damaged, ruined world with a boy inside looking at the moonscape of rubble, trying to orient himself and figure the best way to go.

Then Mr.Barbour, Andy’s father obsessed with the sea and yachting, mentions the moon. Why here? Cause if Barbours had had Theo with them that summer everything would have changed for him, he would have been the part of their family, they would have been his new home. However, as we are aware that never happened. The mist in the description...

The next time the moon appears again it’s an object, a moon dial clock at Hobie’s. Theo’s attached to many things in his house: smell of beeswax and wood, furniture, dense, almost touchable foggy, autumnal, a mild and welcoming micro-climate. It’s the very sense of home for Theo. No surprise something moon shaped emerges just after the formal greetings between Hobie and Theo.

With Larry even this vague sense of home is gone again. Theo feels uncomfortable around him and wishes he was anywhere else (Tibet, Lake Tahoe, the moon). Besides, the last time Theo and his mother went out for a meal happened to be in a place called Moondance Diner.

In Vegas Theo’s room is bare and lonely, no one cares that he never changes his clothes or isn’t in therapy. He pokes around the house and finds random stuff like real estates leaflets, new wine glasses still in the box and other things including a cardboard box of beat-up trade paperbacks such as Your Moon Signs. But all these things aren’t on their places, that’s why it still doesn’t feel like home at all. But the chapter isn’t named Badr al-Dine for nothing.

So basically Boris is an embodiment of the moon, faith and home. Boris answers Theo’s question whether the moon is the same everywhere with a bold confidence “of course it is, you idiot”. There’s a very significant part of Theo’s doubtfulness about that. He doesn’t want to accept all this as his home though he has no alternative cause even in his dream there’s no solitude and his mother’s image is faulty.

The next time we see a crescent moon which enlightens the thrilling scene in the swimming pool.

What’s this all about? Boris sings a polish song about two smalls kittens, and the boys are them indeed. Lost, scared, laughing and grieving, alone and together at the same time, covered in blood (Boris’s mostly). It seems unreal but the next day breaks into this inexistence bringing the bright sun. And nothing happens, the spell isn’t broken: they’re here together and alive.

Badr al-Dine chapter ends with Christmas celebration (Boris’s praznyky, праздники :) and Larry saying these very words:

The whole thing is so magical that after Boris’s toast Theo accepts happiness doesn’t seem quite such a doomed or fatal idea.

Wind, Sand and Stars starts with Boris’s girlfriend Kotku and a half a year time gap in Theo’s storytelling canvas. The main things have to be mentioned: 1. firstly, Theo’s not on good terms with Kotku’s assumptions of ownership of Boris 2. Secondly, he becomes closer to his father. However, this situation proves to be a double betrayal when Larry freaks out and beats Theo trying to make him get the money immediately. Just after that Boris comes and tells Theo he’s forced to leave the country because of his father’s job. Everything seemes frozen, like the planet has stopped. However, the moon is still there. In spite of being a disturbingly unreliable narrator Theo reveals he’s overwhelmed with feelings he’s troubled to explain.

After departing ways we won’t see the proper moon for a significant amount of time. And when we finally meet it again (with an appearance of Boris, of course) it’ll be a completely different moon according to Theo.

As much as I would love for The Secret History to be adapted as an Oscar-bait, art house drama, I think the scene where Richard gets the two-hundred dollars for a new wardrobe could only truly be expressed as the most clichéd, teen movie-esque shopping montage possible.

"In my own humorless state I failed to see anything except what I construed as certain tragic similarities between Gatsby and myself."

Richard Papen

judy poovey is the only tsh character who matters

“she had wild clothes, frosted hair, and a red corvette with california plates bearing the legend JUDY P. her voice was loud and rose frequently to a screech, which rang though the house like the cries of some terrifying tropical bird.”

realizes that henry and the macaulays are assholes 90% of the time

when camilla said something rude to her she threw her drink in her face because it was “that kind of night and “just seemed like the thing to do, you know?”

the only one of the classics group who she doesn’t seem to hate is francis which is such a valid fucking opinion

she’s a costume design major and gives richard some random suit from the costume shop to wear to lunch with bunny

did cocaine with richard in a burger king parking lot

altered her university issued desk area into a totally decked out vanity complete with a glass top and a satin skirt

“all it does here is fucking snow.”

“judy (judy! god bless her!)”

“richard,” judy would say, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand, “you must eat”

“actually, i was often glad of their company. despite her faults, judy was a kindly soul, and she was so bossy and talkative that i felt oddly safe with her.”

she actually cares so much about richard even though he treats her like shit most of the time

while watching a movie she managed to paint her fingernails, smoke a cigarette, and drink a diet coke all at the same time

lets richard take her car to take charles to the ER

became a certified aerobics instructor and appears regularly on an exercise program called “power moves!”

moral of the story is if richard would’ve just been friends with judy and co. then maybe his whole life wouldn’t have gone to shit

Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Fleabag (2016-2019)

Fleabag (2016-2019), written by Phoebe Waller-Bridge

2019 Primetime Emmy Award Winner for Outstanding Writing for a Comedy Series

Fleabag (2019) // Derry Girls (2019)

;lfdkjz;kj;zlkfd hz j zg;dkfj zg;lkdfjz;fjz;dkfja;lkjlkjd l

this show deserves an emmy for this scene alone

sister michael when she decided to become a nun

#james maguire is an actual puppy and i would die for him

every show about teenage girls:

derry girls (while taking place in a war zone):

I’m pretty sure interfering with your sunbed sessions isn’t very high up on anyone’s political agenda, Aunt Sarah. I wouldn’t be so sure. Kathy Kiera Clarke as Aunt Sarah in Derry Girls (2018- )