Catching Fire - [1/?]
↳Peeta Mellark + emotions
Are you kidding me?
Wow, I’m sorry, but this is absurd. More victim blaming, really. You’re holding Peeta responsible for the torture he endured and blaming the altered mental status on him as though he had the ability to control it or not let it effect him.
Have you ever heard of fear conditioning? That’s what part of the hijacking process can be likened to. With the aid of the Tracker Jacker venom, Peeta’s mind was conditioned and altered to fear and hate Katniss. She became the negative stimulus that would set him off. Does this make him unworthy of her love? No. No. No.
Katniss wasn’t helping Peeta simply so he’d love her again, first off. In fact, she didn’t do that at all. She helped him so he wouldn’t kill himself or be killed, and him falling in love with her again came later, after the war, when they were both in a place where they could rebuild their lives both separately and together. And from what it sounds like, they didn’t work very hard to fall in love again at all. It happened very naturally, it seems.
You’re completely missing the reasons why Peeta tried to kill her and using it as a way to write Peeta off and devalue Everlark as a whole. My advice to you is to go read up on fear conditioning and also extinction, and then reevaluate your decision to blame Peeta for being hijacked, because I can’t even deal with this.
I couldn’t have said it better.
Are morning classes good for you? - WTF fun facts
Perhaps people wouldn’t hate school so much as children, lol
I have lost count as to how many times I’ve re-read this, trying to find a way that it isn’t offensive, but I just can’t find anything. I’m going to just assume that was your intention with this ask and answer accordingly. If you didn’t mean it the way I’ve taken it, then feel free to correct me.
The way that I read this, you’re basically saying that Peeta, due to his hijacking, PTSD, and grief, is mentally incompetent and has to be “taken care of” by someone for the rest of his life. Because he cannot possibly do it on his own. So again I’ll say.. What?
Where in the text does it ever imply that after the war and the time Peeta spent in the Capitol before his return to District 12 that he was unable to care for himself? Peeta seemed to do just fine on his own after his return to 12. He lived in his old house in the Victors’ Village, had the presence of mind to go out to the woods to find the primrose bushes, he went back to baking, helped with the memory book, and was there for Katniss as she began to pick up her own pieces and carry on. This does not sound like someone who needs to be taken care of for the rest of his life.
Do you truly believe that someone with mental health issues cannot take care of themselves and would need someone “better” than them to take care of them forever? That’s also what I got from your message, and as someone battling a variety of my own mental health issues, I find that assumption to be incredibly offensive.
The other thing that I gathered from your message is that you think that Gale came out of the war without long standing mental trauma of his own. You are basically saying that Gale could fight in a war, kill people and see people killed and come away from it without PTSD. You’ve just made him sound like a Sociopath. Do you think Gale was a Sociopath?
Finally, I can’t even begin to try and understand what you mean by “Someone who you are, at base just *better* than”. Are you talking about me? Or are you trying to say that Katniss is better than Peeta? That her mental health issues could be disregarded and ignored? I don’t understand what you mean by that statement, or who you’re even talking about.
At any rate, to answer your question — Peeta.
Laughing about this poll’s results. Not like I don’t like joult, but let’s be real. Joshifer.
I disagree. Clearly there was a part of Gale that was threatened by Peeta, but that wasn’t all it was for him. His failure to understand Katniss after the games wasn’t driven by Peeta. Some of his anger was because of Peeta, but not his lack of empathy.
Even before the first reaping there were hints at it. His digs at Madge because he couldn’t possibly understand what she had to be worried about because she only had her name in the reaping bowl five times when his was in there forty-two times. Her concerns were invalid to him, and even more so after saying that she wanted to look nice if she would be going to the Capitol. Lack of empathy had nothing to do with Peeta. That’s just who Gale was.
I’ve decided to try out some cheap and quick commissions because I have medical bills building up on me so even if you aren’t interested a reblog would be nice! Thank you all! <3
That’s one of the things that go into why I’m not Gale’s biggest fan. He rarely, if ever, listened to Katniss or took a minute step back and try to understand anything she was going through. Of course he was never going to fully understand it and he’d never relate to her the same way again, but that is no excuse to dismiss the things she said as often as he did.
That’s exactly how I interpreted her answer there, too. At first I was like, “Ew, that isn’t how it went in the book!” But quickly realized that the hesitation and her actual answer were not Galeniss positive, no matter what people want to see. I’d be salty as hell if my husband said that to me at any point in our relationship. In fact, I probably would have been even more upset if he’d said that to me when we were in that transition from friends to “maybe more than friends”.Anonymous asked: I don’t understand why people thought he was her boyfriend? Like in the first 5 minutes of the movie he kisses her and says” i had to do that at least once” which means they hadn’t kissed before? Are people stupid honestly? And then she basically said to him I can’t give you what you want because I can only feel fear. I can understand thinking she had feelings for him but people thinking he’s her boyfriend? No.
I really think people don’t listen and they don’t pay attention to anything more than what is plain to see. They see a kiss and they think, “Oh, so that’s her boyfriend.” Which is funny to me because there was nothing in that first movie that ever indicated that they were together, so how do these people come up with these conclusions? Even the way they acted when Katniss had her flashback in the beginning doesn’t indicate any sort of familiarity or comfort. It’s awkward. Katniss is embarrassed and upset and Gale seems to have no idea how to help her.
“There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She’s become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.” - JK Rowling
Can we talk about Susan’s fabulous adventures after Narnia? The ones where she wears nylons and elegant blouses when she wants to, and short skirts and bright lipstick when she wants to, and hiking boots and tough jeans and big men’s plaid shirts when she feels like backpacking out into the mountains and remembering what it was to be lost in a world full of terrific beauty— I know her siblings say she stops talking about it, that Susan walks away from the memories of Narnia, but I don’t think she ever really forgot.
I want to read about Susan finishing out boarding school as a grown queen reigning from a teenaged girl’s body. School bullies and peer pressure from children and teachers who treat you like you’re less than sentient wouldn’t have the same impact. C’mon, Susan of the Horn, Susan who bested the DLF at archery, and rode a lion, and won wars, sitting in a school uniform with her eyebrows rising higher and higher as some old goon at the front of the room slams his fist on the lectern.
Susan living through WW2, huddling with her siblings, a young adult (again), a fighting queen and champion marksman kept from the action, until she finally storms out against screaming parents’ wishes and volunteers as a nurse on the front. She keeps a knife or two hidden under her clothes because when it comes down to it, they called her Gentle, but sometimes loving means fighting for what you care for.
She’ll apply to a women’s college on the East Coast, because she fell in love with America when her parents took her there before the war. She goes in majoring in Literature (her ability to decipher High Diction in historical texts is uncanny), but checks out every book she can on history, philosophy, political science. She sneaks into the boys’ school across town and borrows their books too. She was once responsible for a kingdom, roads and taxes and widows and crops and war. She grew from child to woman with that mantle of duty wrapped around her shoulders. Now, tossed here on this mundane land, forever forbidden from her true kingdom, Susan finds that she can give up Narnia but she cannot give up that responsibility. She looks around and thinks I could do this better.
I want Susan sneaking out to drink at pubs with the girls, her friends giggling at the boys checking them out from across the way, until Susan walks over (with her nylons, with her lipstick, with her sovereignty written out in whatever language she damn well pleases) and beats them all at pool. Susan studying for tests and bemoaning Aristotle and trading a boy with freckles all over his nose shooting lessons so that he will teach her calculus. Susan kissing boys and writing home to Lucy and kissing girls and helping smuggle birth control to the ladies in her dorm because Susan Pevensie is a queen and she understands the right of a woman to rule over her own body.
Susan losing them all to a train crash, Edmund and Peter and Lucy, Jill and Eustace, and Lucy and Lucy and Lucy, who Susan’s always felt the most responsible for. Because this is a girl who breathes responsibility, the little mother to her three siblings until a wardrobe whisked them away and she became High Queen to a whole land, ruled it for more than a decade, then came back centuries later as a legend. What it must do to you, to be a legend in the body of a young girl, to have that weight on your shoulders and have a lion tell you that you have to let it go. What is must do to you, to be left alone to decide whether to bury your family in separate ceremonies, or all at once, the same way they died, all at once and without you. What it must do to you, to stand there in black, with your nylons, and your lipstick, and feel responsible for these people who you will never be able to explain yourself to and who you can never save.
Maybe she dreams sometimes they made it back to Narnia after all. Peter is a king again. Lucy walks with Aslan and all the dryads dance. Maybe Susan dreams that she went with them— the train jerks, a bright light, a roar calling you home.
Maybe she doesn’t.
Susan grows older and grows up. Sometimes she hears Lucy’s horrified voice in her head, “Nylons? Lipstick, Susan? Who wants to grow up?” and Susan thinks, “Well you never did, Luce.” Susan finishes her degree, stays in America (England looks too much like Narnia, too much like her siblings, and too little, all at once). She starts writing for the local paper under the pseudonym Frank Tumnus, because she wants to write about politics and social policy and be listened to, because the name would have made Edmund laugh.
She writes as Susan Pevensie, too, about nylons and lipstick, how to give a winning smiles and throw parties, because she knows there is a kind of power there and she respects it. She won wars with war sometimes, in Narnia, but sometimes she stopped them before they began.
Peter had always looked disapprovingly on the care with which Susan applied her makeup back home in England, called it vanity. And even then, Susan would smile at him, say “I use what weapons I have at hand,” and not explain any more than that. The boy ruled at her side for more than a decade. He should know better.
Vain is not the proper word. This is about power. But maybe Peter wouldn’t have liked the word “ambition” any more than “vanity.”
Susan is a young woman in the 50s and 60s. Frank Tumnus has quite the following now. He’s written a few books, controversial, incendiary. Susan gets wrapped up in the civil rights movement, because of course she would. It’s not her first war. All the same, she almost misses the White Witch. Greed is a cleaner villain than senseless hate. She gets on the Freedom Rider bus, mails Mr. Tumnus articles back home whenever there’s a chance, those rare occasions they’re not locked up or immediately threatened. She is older now than she ever was in Narnia. Susan dreams about Telemarines killing fauns.
Time rolls on. Maybe she falls in love with a young activist or an old cynic. Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe Frank Tumnus, controversial in the moment, brilliant in retrospect, gets offered an honorary title from a prestigious university. She declines and publishes an editorial revealing her identity. Her paper fires her. Three others mail her job offers.
When Vietnam rolls around, she protests in the streets. Susan understands the costs of war. She has lived through not just through the brutal wars of one life, but two.
Maybe she has children now. Maybe she tells them stories about a magical place and a magical lion, the stories Lucy and Edmund brought home about how if you sail long enough you reach the place where the seas fall off the edge of the world. But maybe she tells them about Cinderella instead, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel, except Rapunzel cuts off her own hair and uses it to climb down the tower and escape. The damsel uses what tools she has at hand.
A lion told her to walk away, and she did. He forbade her magic, he forbade her her own kingdom, so she made her own.
Susan Pevensie did not lose faith. She found it.