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ariainstars · 3 years

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Congratulations, We Fell for Another Love Bombing or Thank You, Disney, You Did It Again

Sigh. Luke Skywalker is back. And Din Djarin and his child had to say goodbye. I never thought I would curse and say “Oh no!” when Luke appeared in that fateful corridor.

I wonder why the Disney studios are doing this - trying to "make up” for the oh-so criticized sequels, I suppose?

The Jedi have made their time. It was shown and proven over and over again that their attitude is wrong and needs to change, and Luke was the last of the old school Jedi. Again, a Force-sensitive child is all but kidnapped by a Jedi: he obviously did not like to go. Mando is no longer the hero of the story, he was stripped of his agency and all of his personal choices were questioned and valued for null and void. But the Dark Saber is in his hands now, so he’s the heir to the throne of Mandalore I guess. Like he ever wanted that.

This show, which grew to be so well-beloved in only a few episodes, now is not “The Mandalorian” any more. Its new title is “Luke’s Skywalker’s Comeback”. Hardcore fans may be out of their minds with joy, but for us, who admired Mando both as a badass hero and as a father figure and loved the dynamics between him and Grogu, the whole purpose of the show is destroyed. And here I naively had thought The Rise of Skywalker was bad enough to teach the studios not to repeat its mistakes.

~~~ more under the cut ~~~

Star Wars ought to be a fairy tale. It is and always was one. I can understand that the prequels had to end in a tragedy, we all knew that from the start, but why the sequels? And now, why must this generally acclaimed and beloved tv show again appease hardcore fans of old with Luke coming to save the day, cancelling in a matter of minutes what the story had built up within two entire seasons - the relationship of the two protagonists, heart and core of the narrative, as it had been with Rey and Ben Solo? And when both of them had their relationship just getting started - Rey and Ben kissing, Din calling Grogu by his name and the latter seeing him and touching his face? Why make Rey a queen without her king, and Din a father without a son?

Again, a Force-user is denied having a home: „Jedi training” matters more. By Luke of all people, the guy who never was trained in the first place (only very briefly), who except for a few lessons with Obi-Wan and Yoda was self-taught in the Force, and never understood that his strength lay with his compassion and his connection with other people, not with his alleged „superpowers”.

Think back to how Anakin, Luke and Rey were before they met the Jedi: unaware of their powers, compassionate, idealistic, brave. The Jedi mindset tainted their characters and lives, making them believing that they are (or have to be) untouchable and invincible, compelling them to live for duty instead of love, condemning them to a lifetime of loneliness. Will the Jedi never learn?

Though I practically grew up with the classic movies, I loved The Last Jedi; I can accept that Luke failed, and also that Han and Leia did. Nobody is perfect, and the Jedi mindset as well as the universally accepted idea that „Jedi” is a synonym for infallible saint-like hero was wrong in the first place, else the Empire never would have risen. Making Luke not the cavalry who came to save the day - until the battle on Crait, that is - but a man who failed and picked himself up again was much more meaningful, and I know not a few fans who felt inspired by this. Luke had saved his father choosing love over power, not the contrary. Some fans just never get it. To appease them, why not simply give him a new storyline of his own, instead of making him intrude in other Star Wars related shows? Why stop the new stories in their tracks just to bring him back?

Instead of seeing Luke as the grand kickass hero in a tv show that never had anything to do with him until now, it would have been more to the purpose to finally shed light on the thirty years between his father’s and his nephew’s death, to explain us where the Jedi and the Skywalker-Organa-Solo family failed to make such an outcome possible - the granddaughter of Palpatine taking over with their own blessing. There must have been a huge build-up between the end of the original saga and the fateful night at the temple when Luke briefly panicked looking into his nephew’s mind. Many fans still are convinced that „Kylo Ren just chose to be bad” because we hardly know how the relationship between these two was in the first place. (A very easy plot twist would e.g. have been Snoke warning Ben that his uncle sooner or later would turn on him, frightened by his power. The fulfilment of that prophecy would have made the night at the temple much more impactful.)

I understand that the studios want to tease us, to make us watch the other shows, too. But honestly, I’m getting tired of feeling duped. Tired of getting attached to new heroes to have their purpose smashed just so the Star Wars dudebro fans can sleep quietly at night because „some Jedi will take care of it”. First the characters from the sequels, now the ones from The Mandalorian. You get to love the new characters, you root for them to find happiness or at least some closure, and then, at the last moment, poof!, the hero of old comes back and the story development stops right there.

It is not right and it never was for the Jedi to take Force-sensitive children away from home, to enforce „you have to become a Jedi, like it or not” on them, to teach them not to have attachments, to make them focus on the Light Side thereby bringing the Force out of its much-needed balance. While Ahsoka saw that Grogu has formed a strong attachment to Din Djarin, Luke obviously did not, or he did not care. The irony is that he always wanted a father, and knows the pain of losing a father you’ve just found.

The Mandalorian felt like a consolation after Episode IX, a blessing for the fans for whom heart and soul are more interesting than nostalgia and „Jedi superheroes”. Now it’s just another kick in the guts. It’s painful and embarrassing to get to love characters so much, to get invested in their story so deeply, and then to realize again that they seem to mean nothing in the shade of the heroes of old. Ben Solo died young and miserable and Din Djarin and Grogu can now, I suppose, be miserable too. Can someone please explain to me why after the classics, no Star Wars film or show had an uplifting ending any more? With the possible exception of Solo, which was a nice filler but not a really important storyline. (I do not count Episodes I and II, they officially had a happy ending but it was tainted by the knowledge of what was to come.)

Fans are not blind. We saw the parallels between Darth Vader and Din Djarin as well as the differences - both being cool and tough but the latter not disdaining to be a caring father at the same time. The entire show lived from the dynamics between the gruff but kind bounty hunter and the innocent-looking powerful child, ever from the first episode. Two years of build-up for nothing, as it was with the four years of the sequels. Mando has to relinquish Grogu, Rey loses Ben. What was all that for? Both Mando and Rey are fighters, they have done nothing else their entire lives. What is to become of them now that they have nothing to fight for any more, nor anyone to live for? Except staying on a planet that is foreign to them and, for all they know, inhabitable or at least inhospitable?

With Rey and Ben Solo, the situation was different: she had proven good intentions but bad attitude (arrogance, violence, judgement) over and over, unable to deny her heritage, and even impaled her „antagonist” once while he was only defending himself. He had been the head of a criminal organization for years, and had committed patricide. Of course there are nuances to these characters and I still believe that they would have deserved another chance; I understand however that would have been unfitting to let the sequels end giving them a happy ending.

But in the case of Din Djarin, a man of honor, who has made friends and brought peace wherever he went throughout the galaxy? Grogu, the last surviving padawan of the old Jedi temple, who saved both his and Greef Karga’s life despite the danger for himself? What did they do to deserve being ripped apart like that?

So, all I can say: thank you, you did it again. And, once more, just before Christmas. I wish at least these depressing endings would be released at some other time.

I would dearly want to see a galaxy that finally learned from its faults, where family and attachments and Balance and free choice are not contrary to being a Jedi. I am in my late forties and I’m beginning to give up hope that I will live to see it. By now I am wondering whether George Lucas himself will live to see it.

I always loved Luke. He is one of my favorite heroes. But now he’s become an insensitive know-it-all who suffered from his own daddy issues to the point that he almost died crying out to his father for help, yet did not learn not to separate fathers from children and vice versa and, on the contrary, is doing it over and over again. He did not even tell Mando his name, or where he could reach him. We don’t have a clue as to if, when and how the Clan of Two will meet again.

I get it that since this show is set five years Return of the Jedi, it would have been difficult to ignore Luke’s existence altogether. And of course, we can rest assured that Luke will do his best for Grogu. But still: he has made his time. I wanted to see the new heroes going their own way, not hanging on the sleeves of the former generation. Mando is a man of honor, he had promised to bring Grogu to his own kind and he relinquished him despite his own wishes. (Not to mention that technically, since he identifies as a Mandalorian, by being a Jedi Luke is his enemy.) Why did Luke have to take the child away? His greatest strength always was that he was first and foremost himself and only in the second place a Jedi. What became of his trademark compassion?

Before The Mandalorian, we have never seen a healthy and working father-son relationship in the saga. It was incredibly refreshing and heart-warming to see these two traveling through the galaxy and living through adventures together; also, contrarily to Yoda, Grogu saw a lot of the bad things happening in the galaxy with his own eyes, which certainly was good for his character development.

But in the end, both he and his „father” did not go anywhere. Like Rey in Episode IX, they found a) power and b) a surrogate place, but neither got what was actually his heart’s wish - a home. I can’t understand why. Deliberate cruelty? We never knew whether Han and Leia and Ben felt how painful it was to break up their little family for the sake of „Jedi training”. You bet Din and Grogu did feel that pain and loss.

Both as a person with a heart and a brain and an almost lifelong Star Wars fan I am sickened by the readiness of the studios to end all that this well-made show had built up, for the appeasement of Jedi worshippers who just don’t want to see that the Jedi mindset needs urgently to change. It can’t be that difficult to renew them for the better; there is no necessity to erase the Jedi completely and there is nothing bad with making them grow wiser and stronger by finally understanding and accepting the importance of attachments and family ties. Yes, I realize that being a father also means learning how to let go; but here we are speaking of a literal child, not of a young adult who chose his own way in life.

I thought that George Lucas knew why he sold his franchise to the Disney studios, given their tradition in telling stories about family and friendship. This development is not a triumph, it is unworthy both of the studios and of the entire Star Wars saga. I’m tired of producers bowing down before fans who see every shred of the saga through „Jedi are always right”-tinted glasses respectively who value coolness over compassion even though it always was the saga’s central message.

Whatever happens in Season 3, countless fans will only be watching it asking, „Where’s Luke?” If Grogu should choose to join Mando again, everybody will be like, „But how can he want to leave Luke Skywalker of all people?” Some already see Grogu die prematurely, killed by the oh-so-bad guy Kylo Ren, for no other reason than to just to further prove how evil he is. In which case both Ben Solo and Grogu will have lived and died for nothing except for leaving a lot of heartbreak behind.

There must be another and better way to honor the legacy of both Luke Skywalker and the original trilogy than to think up new heroes and then destroy their purpose for the sake of old times’ glory. Lucas himself had said that Star Wars is basically for twelve-year-olds. It seems not: it’s for the fans who were twelve years old forty years ago, when the first movies hit theatres.

There are enough voices crying out for the sequels to be erased from canon. Who knows? This may be the next step into the past instead of the future. The sequels were hinting at a better future (Balance), Grogu was, too (family). But the grand past is so reassuring. The sequels tried to tell the audience to grow up and learn to do without their heroes, to see that even they were flawed and that the new heroes could grow beyond them. Fie on them, said the hardcore fans. Now it’s the turn of the younger generation, who got to know and love the saga with the sequels or The Mandalorian, to be like „WTF”.

Rogue One also had been a huge disappointment to me. Not that I found it badly made, but I went into a depressive mood for three days for the same reason: I did not like that I had grown so attached to all of these characters only to see all of them die. The infamous Darth Vader scenes and the design with the huge hints at the classic movies were no consolation. Nostalgia does not make me happy. Heart does. Rogue One, the sequels and The Mandalorian were all, in the end, deprived of all human feeling except loss and regret and many, many thoughts about what might have been.

The Mandalorian was an excellent story on its own. It did not need Luke Skywalker. It is and ought to be Din Djarin’s story, who lost or gave up everything because he was afraid to lose the child: and now he did. It’s not comforting that he lost him to the alleged Good Guy. Luke of course won’t turn a hair on Grogu’s head, but he can’t offer him a home, we already know that. Ahsoka saw the attachment between the two and she knows the dangers of it; Luke does not know what drove his father to his terrible fate. If the sequels remain canon, then we already know that Luke will not allow his pupils having and keeping healthy attachments. And that does not promise well for the child’s future.

Unless the studios commit the madness of officially erasing the sequels and starting the saga anew, we can only hope that the child will not stay with Luke for long since it’s a good five years before he will start his own Jedi temple. Maybe he will die of a broken heart, poor little guy. And Din Djarin might become the new ruler of Mandalore, though sad and alone. But who cares: Luke is back. Please: I did not subscribe to Disney+ wanting to see Schwarzenegger movies. The lonesome hero can ride into the sunset for all I care, out of sight and of mind. Star Wars’ greatest strength always was its heart.

My own take was that Grogu is meant to be a healer, and since Luke is not, there is no way he can teach him this particular skill in the Force. Anakin was a pilot and a mechanic, Luke and Ben also were pilots. None of them were Jedi by choice. Grogu is older than Luke and he was already trained at the old Jedi temple: he’s more likely to be a teacher to Luke than the other way around. Grogu as the first Force-user who values attachment and family over power and Jedi training, that would indeed have been a new hope. This backpedaling is shallow and useless. Even if Luke sends Grogu back to Din Djarin, this won’t teach him not to take a child away from its home, since only a few years later he will do the same thing to his nephew. (Although it would admittedly be an interesting plot point to see a small Ben Solo interacting with Grogu for a while.)

Please give us back The Mandalorian the way it was, with its characters and dynamics. The themes and messages of The Last Jedi already were almost all aborted in The Rise of Skywalker; we didn’t sign up on Disney+ to see the exact same thing happen with The Mandalorian. I for my part am fed up with this kind of love bombing followed by a quick and coldblooded let-down. Star Wars may be a cult, but it need not be the kind of cult where you get hooked and then unwittingly follow a carrot hanging before your eyes. I thought the exaggerated Jedi cult was mostly made by the fans: the studios did not need to jump on this ship. This is not the Way.

Now everything I feared is flaring up again - fans jubilating because “the Jedi are taking matters in hand” instead of accepting the failure of the Jedi mindset at last; and even insisting that since things are going so well, all Disney needs to do is to cancel the sequels from canon and everybody can be happy again.

Please, please, give this tormented galaxy a chance to heal at last. We don’t need Luke Skywalker to save the day by killing all the bad guys. We don’t need the oh-so-powerful and perfect Jedi. We need faith in the Force. We need a home. Don’t take it away from us again. Thank you.

P.S. If we see Luke again in Season 3, at least give the role to a live actor. That digital “rejuvenation” made him look wooden. Luke’s best trait, apart from his compassion, always was his smile.

P.P.S. What’s with Boba Fett claiming Jabba’s throne? I thought Jabba had a son. What in the galaxy happened to him?

P.P.P.S. I don’t mind kickass women, but honestly, I’m getting somehow tired of them. What became of the ladies of Star Wars, the diplomats, the good queens, the loving mothers, the accurate librarians, who contribute to the galaxy without killing (or hurting) anyone? I’m feeling kind of underrepresented here...

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kogo-dogo · 3 years

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i like your skyrim stuff and i wanna know more about the funky little dudes you posted in those “sentences” lol. instead of asking for more snips

You have made a mistake. Prepare for an essay.

But, joking aside, they’re Morrowind characters. I do like Skyrim, but Morrowind is my favorite game of all time and the entire reason I got into the TES fandom years ago. I don’t talk about it much on here because everyone is here for Half-Life and HRV, but... you know what? I’mma take this opportunity. To yell.

About The Guys(tm).

So, basically, in my Personal Canon, I don’t just have a Nerevarine (i.e. Protagonist) character. I have an entire crew of people who help him get through things because it just seems... more realistic for my Extremely Flawed and Terrible Nerevarine. Also, I just had a lot of characters conjured up as a teenager and it was fun to evolve it over time so they’re all friends.

They are, as follows:

- Jo’Karsa (a.k.a. “Karsaga”). Battlemage born under the Atronach. Afflicted with Wombburn. Also the Nerevarine. He’s an abnormally large Cathay-raht who has had an unusual upbringing. He was originally an orphan plucked off the streets in Corinthe and trafficked to Morrowind where he was sold as a slave. As fate would have it, a houseman under his owner took a shine to him and stole him away when they fled to Cyrodiil to avoid political assassination. Karsaga has been raised Telvanni in Imperial territory so, despite being a mighty brute of a Khajiit, he has an extreme affinity for magic and an equally extreme disconnect from his Khajiiti roots.

He speaks like a Dunmer, carries himself like a Dunmer, and has very Telvanni sensibilities. He also has an extensive criminal record from his time spent as a bandit outside of Cheydinhal, and that is eventually how he ends up on the prison boat that sends him to Morrowind. He has a bunch of aliases and an unhealthy penchant for drink and smoke. Not a fan of skooma, though. As gruff and sarcastic as he is, he has a very silver tongue and a way of winning people over and talking himself out of trouble.

Also, “youth born under a certain sign?” Nah, this bitch is 34. And smells like a wet dog.

- Dasrazel. Altmer Nightblade and Quarra vampire. He contracted his vampiric curse while trying to save his lover from the clutches of an undead menace during the Second Era, after a life working various quasilegal oddjobs that brought shame on his noble family. In life, he was a likeable but lowkey individual, and in undeath he’s still very lowkey... but perhaps not as likeable. He has to take a low dose of a calming potion to keep the inherent, violent bloodlust of his Quarra curse at bay, and it does a lot to deaden his emotions. Combine that with hundreds of years to learn how to not give a fuck, and you have a very blunt, stoic, matter-of-fact creature who only very occasionally makes quips and usually just wants to be left alone.

He is Karsaga’s closest ally, right hand man, and platonic soulmate. They met after Karsaga robbed him blind at a bar (thinking him to just be some weird, frail elf), and Dasrazel took pity on him after Karsaga ran him through with an iron saber and panicked when it... did nothing. Their bond is one of a mutual distaste for most people and Dasrazel’s desire to have companionship again.

They’re very much bros, even if Dasrazel spends most of his time not understanding why Karsaga is the way he is.

- Neira Brenur. Dunmer Witchhunter and low-ranking member of House Redoran. She’s the daughter of a Camonna Tong member and an Ashlander woman, though her mother is dead and she spends a lot of time trying to distance herself from her racist father. She joined Redoran in hopes of atoning for the crime of just being born into a bad family, but has a really difficult time fitting in. She’s very meek and empathetic and does better in controlled duels than actual combat. The idea of actually hurting an opponent makes her sick to her stomach.

She kind of just happened to Karsaga one day, courtesy of him running afoul of her not-so-popular friend, Vandrith (we’ll get to that trainwreck later). She mainly acts as a translator for Vandrith and tries to play mediator when Karsaga starts getting too aggressive with others. She’s in good with some odd folks in Redoran and a very aggressive supporter of the Tribunal Temple, which makes it hard for her to wrap her mind around Karsaga’s existence as the Nerevarine.

Also, the fact she’s an absolute pushover means she just accepts the less-than-savory people Karsaga pals around with. She’s got a big heart and feels actual pity for his blasphemous, undead, and criminal friends. They’re good people on the inside (probably).

- Vandrith Valen. Dunmer Ordinator and conglomeration of a lot of factors coming together in the worst way possible. He is naturally “blessed by Azura” and has some degree of prophetic power, though he’s choked it down after a life of being raised Indoril. He also came to the unfortunate realization after being stationed on Vvardenfell, that he is also a descendant of House Dagoth and is haunted by the Poison Song, a “song” sent out by Dagoth Ur that warps the minds of those who are of his blood and turns them into Sleepers and Dreamers.

These two traits do not mesh well and make Vandrith more than a little unstable.

Vandrith is... prone to erratic behavior and violent outbursts and is largely under the care of his paternal uncle, Tuls Valen, the head priest of the Ald’ruhn Temple. Vandrith is also a clever and tricky bastard who has been trying to figure out how to discern Dagoth Ur’s plans from the Poison Song in order to prevent bad things from happening. Usually, he can keep things under control, but extremely bad visions, close proximity to items/places corrupted by House Dagoth, and stress can cause him to be difficult.

Beyond this, though, he’s not what you’d expect from an Ordinator. He’s very witty with a somewhat bawdy sense of humor, a very devil-may-care attitude, and he’s a huge fan of causing mischief. He forced his way into Karsaga’s social circle due to his absolute certainty that Karsaga could bring down Dagoth Ur, and Neira is his closest (and for a long time only) friend, who has figured out what all of his weird ramblings mean.

- Bashinga. Sorceress and Aundae vampire. She is an old acquaintance of Dasrazel’s who has ties to Telvanni, the Mage’s Guild, and several circles of warlocks and witches. She’s very much a self-serving sort, more interested in the acquisition of power than the wellbeing of Morrowind, but she is fiercely protective of the people she deems worthy (and she has a soft spot for Neira she can’t really explain).

Once upon a time, she was a dancer and performer with a traveling circus, and her fall into undeath and wizardry was a happy accident after being taken as cattle by rogue Aundae. She’s got a good set of vocal cords and can move with grace and ease, but she speaks very bitterly a lot of the time and is difficult to get along with.

She’s one of those people who Karsaga immediately took a shine to because they both like to sit around and bitch about people. Dasrazel and Bashinga mostly get along by the time-honored tradition of “two very gay individuals being catty at each other as a sign of affection, though outsiders would think they hate one another.”

- Jai Swift-Fly. Cathay assassin and member of the Morag Tong. She was born and raised in Elsweyr in a more tribal environment, and is an old friend of Vandrith’s (odd, considering they met because she took a grey writ to knock him off and, instead, he knocked her out). She mostly comes into the fold because Karsaga needed somebody to break into the Ministry of Truth to free Mehra Milo, and she came highly recommended (by Vandrith; Vandrith recommended her).

She’s a married mother of two, is big and strong and very proud of being big and strong, and a crack shot with a bow. She’s also deaf as hell and communicates through a series of homebrew gestures. Her decision to stick around and help Karsaga after completing the job she was hired to do stems primarily from her extreme curiosity. She has no stake in the Nerevarine Prophecy or this group of losers, but by god does she want to see what it looks like when a god dies.

Fun fact: Jai is dead by the events of Skyrim, but two of her descendants remain. Shevah and J’Rakka. They’re a brother-and-sister duo. Shevah is as much of a curious, troublemaking adventurer as her so-many-greats grandmother. J’Rakka is a werewolf who mostly hunts bounties to make a living.

- Dravyn Telvayn (no picture of him, sorry D:). Dunmer assassin and member of the Morag Tong. Former highwayman and current Berne vampire. Husband of Jai and perpetually confused, mainly over the fact he has kids with Jai and... well, every book he’s read has indicated that that should be impossible for a variety of reasons. He lives in the sewers of the Arena canton in Vivec City and is allowed work in the Morag Tong due to his efficacy at eliminating very high risk targets, though he’s basically “on his own” if he ever gets caught. They’re sure as fuck not giving him writs of execution to present to guards when the Tong could end up fucked over if their relationship with a vampire gets out.

He’s mostly in the background and tags along due to his extreme dedication to Jai. He doesn’t get along with hardly anyone but her, though he is the one who coined the term “Council of Accidents” in relation to him, Dasrazel, and Bashinga. He feels a loose kinship with them in that they’re all members of different vampire clans, but all members whose sires want nothing to do with them, rendering them outcasts. Even after the events of Morrowind, he keeps in infrequent contact with the others.

After Jai’s death, he acts as a weird “ancestral guardian” to his own descendants. As of the time of Skyrim, he spends most of his time trying to keep Shevah from getting killed. He is very tired. She is a lot.

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impalementation · 4 years

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Do you think there is a connection between Buffy chosing name Joan in Tabula Rasa and Spike telling her she's addicted to misery in Normal Again? Does Buffy think of herself as a martyr?

sorry in advance that this reply sort of went all over the place. it’s an interesting question!

first, i think answering the martyr question depends on how one defines “martyr”. if we’re talking in the basic sense of “sacrifices oneself for a cause” then buffy certainly is one, and she does mention her sacrifices at various times throughout the show. even from the very first episode, it’s clear that buffy thinks that slaying is something she has to sacrifice something of herself for--her “normality”, her life, her peace of mind. but on a meta level, i wouldn’t say that buffy is a typical martyr figure, because the show frames her sacrifices as fundamentally unjust. as opposed to something worth deifying--the definition of martyr that is more like “sainted for sacrificing oneself for a cause”. the narrative treats buffy as heroic in part because she repeatedly chooses self-sacrifice over people getting hurt, but i don’t think it ever canonizes her for this aspect of her heroism. it doesn’t make her an exalted object of worship…with maybe the exception of her headstone and crucified swan dive in the gift. because note how after buffy sacrifices her life in prophecy girl and the gift, or sacrifices angel in becoming, the show doubles down on her humanity and trauma. when she was bad, anne, and most of season six all emphasize the emotional and psychological toll of buffy’s life as a slayer, and feature her really fucking up, or generally not being a saint. the show pays for its martyr imagery in the gift by bringing buffy back to earth in every sense of the word. i’ve always found it pretty impressive writing honestly, the way that the show consistently makes buffy’s pain humanize her instead of glorify her.

then there’s "martyr” in the sense of “acting martyred”. which is more like “exaggerating victimhood for sympathy”. or “righteously wallowing in one’s suffering”. which i don’t personally think that buffy really does, but it’s certainly something that characters and audience members accuse her of. see cordelia calling her a “cry-buffy” or faith in who are you? saying of buffy: “i could do anything i want, and instead, i choose to pout and whine and feel the burden of slayerness?” or willow’s mockery of her in grave. what i would say is that buffy definitely has a tendency to not talk to other people about her pain because she doesn’t think they would understand. for instance, her leaving all of her friends behind in anne or not telling them about heaven in season six. i don’t think that “martyred” is really the right word for that, since it has such derogatory connotations, and because this tendency of buffy’s is not really, in my opinion, about buffy flattering herself or seeking pity. but there is absolutely a way in which buffy keeps her feelings locked up, and stews in them, and doesn’t really feel able to talk about them, in a way that is tied up in her “special”, heroic status. she even says explicitly in conversations with dead people that on some level she feels like the love and validation of her friends doesn’t matter because “they haven’t been through what [she’s] been through. they’re not the slayer.”

she’s also (in my reading) preoccupied with her goodness to a pretty intense degree, which is why her failure to live up to her ideal of herself in season six is so devastating to her sense of identity. she seems to feel an obligation to be “good” because of her heroic status—it’s telling that when she breaks down to tara about spike she describes him as “everything i’m supposed to be against.” as in, she seems to think of herself as betraying some exalted, heroic ideal by being with him, rather than just having an unhealthy relationship. you could also probably read her self-punishment that season as having similarly exalted motivation. like she is taking it upon herself, as the slayer, to punish herself for not being a “good” enough slayer. it’s how i read her turning herself in in dead things, anyway. these tendencies to self-isolate and elevate personal suffering to cosmic importance are definitely not healthy (even if her personal suffering sometimes is actually, uh, cosmically important), and do have things in common with acting martyred. but are way more complicated than just “playing the victim” or something. i don’t think it’s a coincidence that it’s pretty much always “bad” people that suggest that that’s what buffy is doing. because the show sees much of buffy’s suffering as genuinely unfair, and thinks she is good for not rolling over and accepting it.

so to connect this to spike’s lines in normal again, i think we’re meant to see him as both right and wrong. as is the case with many of spike’s speeches. he’s upset, like dawn was, at buffy rejecting him from her life, and reacts with his well-worn tactic of hitting people with the almost-truth right where they’re most sensitive. he calls her attitude “nasty martyrdom” because, given his soullessness, he’s not in a position to really understand her depressive self-loathing. but he’s absolutely right that buffy holds herself to heroic ideals that make her miserable. and given that he was the tool she was recently addictively returning to to punish herself, it’s not strange that he would think of her as “addicted to the misery”. he gets that buffy is needlessly beating herself up, and using her heroic ideals as the bludgeon. he gets that she doesn’t feel allowed to be happy. he gets that she feels somehow trapped between what her friends represent and what he does. but he doesn’t get how that behavior is a product of self-hatred, instead of some kind of overwrought masturbatory self-interest, and is therefore unable to be sympathetic to it. even as he correctly identifies that her mindset is unhealthy.

i don’t know if they’re meant to parallel each other, but it feels deliberate that we get that scene in never leave me that also takes place in buffy’s bedroom, only this time it’s spike that’s having his brain fucked with, and buffy that suggests he’s feeling sorry for himself. and spike tells buffy that he finally understands the thing he couldn’t in season six, including normal again.

BUFFY: So, that's what this is about. You feeling sorry for yourself, Spike?

SPIKE: I’m feeling honest with myself. You used me.

BUFFY: Yes.

SPIKE: You told me that, of course. I never understood it though. Not until now. You hated yourself, and you took it out on me.

BUFFY: You figured that out just now?

SPIKE: Soul's not all about moonbeams and pennywhistles, luv. It's about self-loathing. I get it.

as for whether we’re meant to draw a line between normal again and buffy naming herself “joan” in tabula rasa, i’m not sure. the name “joan” seems like a dual joke about the fact that joan is a blandly normal name compared to “buffy”, but is also a name that evokes the grand sacrificial heroism that buffy is capable of. a joke about which parts of buffy’s identities are permanent or not. but if there is a connection, i think it’s related to the season’s general deconstructive mindset. buffy’s identity crisis in season six is all tied up in her idea of what a hero looks like, and so in that respect it’s very significant that buffy at the end of the gift was buffy at her most mythically heroic. the kind of heroism frozen at a moment of perfect, martyred sacrifice. similarly, joan is normal and happy and heroic, a version of herself--like the buffybot--that buffy feels distant from. but no one can live up to that sort of perfection day to day. buffy’s struggle to confront her human imperfection parallels the season’s attempt to make itself and its audience confront their own expectations regarding perfect, happy heroes. everyone, including buffy, is frustrated that something seems “wrong” with her. so the two scenes seem related in that they both suggest that buffy is drawn to heroism and idealism, consciously or unconsciously. which is relevant to the season’s implication that a fixation on such ideals can be as crippling or harmful as they are noble.

#s6 #buffy

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tpanan · 3 years

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My Sunday Daily Blessings

August 29, 2021

Be still quiet your heart and mind, the LORD is here, loving you talking to you...........

Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time (Roman Rite Calendar) Lectionary 125, Cycle B

First Reading: Deuteronomy 4:1-2, 6-8

Moses said to the people: “Now, Israel, hear the statutes and decrees which I am teaching you to observe, that you may live, and may enter in and take possession of the land which the LORD, the God of your fathers, is giving you.

In your observance of the commandments of the LORD, your God, which I enjoin upon you, you shall not add to what I command you nor subtract from it.

Observe them carefully, for thus will you give evidence of your wisdom and intelligence to the nations, who will hear of all these statutes and say, ‘This great nation is truly a wise and intelligent people.’ For what great nation is there that has gods so close to it as the LORD, our God, is to us whenever we call upon him?

Or what great nation has statutes and decrees that are as just as this whole law which I am setting before you today?”

Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 15:2-3, 3-4, 4-5

"The one who does justice will live in the presence of the Lord."

Second Reading: James 1: 17-18, 21b-22, 27

Dearest brothers and sisters: All good giving and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no alteration or shadow caused by change. He willed to give us birth by the word of truth that we may be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures. Humbly welcome the word that has been planted in you and is able to save your souls. Be doers of the word and not hearers only, deluding yourselves. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to care for orphans and widows in their affliction and to keep oneself unstained by the world.

Verse before the Gospel: James 1: 18

Alleluia, Alleluia

"The Father willed to give us birth by the word of truth that we may be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures."

Alleluia, Alleluia

Gospel: Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

When the Pharisees with some scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around Jesus, they observed that some of his disciples ate their meals with unclean, that is, unwashed, hands. — For the Pharisees and, in fact, all Jews, do not eat without carefully washing their hands, keeping the tradition of the elders.

And on coming from the marketplace they do not eat without purifying themselves. And there are many other things that they have traditionally observed, the purification of cups and jugs and kettles and beds. — So the Pharisees and scribes questioned him, “Why do your disciples not follow the tradition of the elders but instead eat a meal with unclean hands?”

He responded, “Well did Isaiah prophesy about you hypocrites, as it is written: This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines human precepts. You disregard God’s commandment but cling to human tradition.” This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines human precepts. You disregard God’s commandment but cling to human tradition.”

He summoned the crowd again and said to them, “Hear me, all of you, and understand. Nothing that enters one from outside can defile that person; but the things that come out from within are what defile. but the things that come out from within are what defile. “From within people, from their hearts, come evil thoughts, unchastity, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, licentiousness, envy, blasphemy, arrogance, folly. All these evils come from within and they defile.”

**Meditation:

Which is more important to God - clean hands or a clean mind and heart? The Scribes and Pharisees were upset with Jesus because he allowed his disciples to break with their ritual traditions by eating with unclean hands. They sent a delegation all the way from Jerusalem to Galilee to bring their accusation in a face-to-face confrontation with Jesus. Jesus dealt with their accusation by going to the heart of the matter - by looking at God's intention and purpose for the commandments.

Allow God's word to shape your heart and intentions Jesus explains that they void God's command because they allow their hearts and minds to be clouded by their own notions of what is true religion. Jesus accuses them specifically of two things. First of hypocrisy. Like actors, who put on a show, they appear to obey God's word in their external practices while they inwardly harbor evil desires and intentions.

Allow God's word to change your way of thinking Secondly, he accuses them of abandoning God's word by substituting their own arguments and ingenious interpretations for what God requires. They devised clever arguments based on their own thoughts rather than on God's word. Jesus refers them to the prophecy of Isaiah (29:31) where the prophet accuses the people of his day for honoring God with their lips while their hearts were far away from choosing and doing what God asked of them.

Uproot wrong thoughts and attitudes before they grow Where does evil spring from and what's the solution for eliminating it from our lives? Jesus deals with this issue in response to the religious leaders' concern with ritual defilement - making oneself unfit to offer acceptable sacrifice and worship to God. The religious leaders were concerned with avoiding ritual defilement, some no doubt out of fear of God, and others out of fear of pleasing other people.

Jesus points his listeners to the source of true defilement - evil desires which come from inside a person's innermost being. Sin does not happen. It first springs from the innermost recesses of our thoughts and intentions, from the secret desires which only the individual soul can conceive.

Only Jesus can free us from sin and guilt God in his mercy sent his Son Jesus Christ to free us from our sinful cravings and burden of guilt, and to restore us to wholeness of life and goodness. But to receive his mercy and healing, we must admit our faults and ask for his forgiveness. "If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just, and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:8-9).

Let Jesus be the master of your heart and desires When Cain was jealous of his brother, Abel, God warned him to guard his heart: "Sin is couching at the door; it's desire is for you, but you must master it" (Genesis 4:7). Do you allow any sinful desires to enter the door of your heart and mind? We do not need to entertain or give in to sinful desires or thoughts, but instead, through the grace of God, we can choose to put them to death rather than allow them to be the master who controls our way of thinking, feeling, and acting.

The Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness Only God can change our hearts and make them clean and whole through the power of the Holy Spirit. Like a physician who probes the wound before treating it, God through his Word and Spirit first brings to light our sinful condition that we may recognize sin for what it is and call upon God's mercy and pardon. The Lord is ever ready to change and purify our hearts through his Holy Spirit who dwells within us. His power and grace enables us to choose what is good and to reject what is evil. Do you believe in the power of God's love to change and transform your heart?

Lord Jesus, fill me with your Holy Spirit and make my heart like yours - on fire with love and holiness. Strengthen my will that I may always choose to love what is good and to reject what is evil.

Sources:

Lectionary for Mass for Use in the Dioceses of the United States, second typical edition, Copyright © 2001, 1998, 1997, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine; Psalm refrain © 1968, 1981, 1997, International Committee on English in the Liturgy, Inc. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

**Meditations may be freely reprinted and translated into other languages for non-profit use only. Please cite copyright and original source. Copyright 2021 Daily Scripture Readings and Meditation, dailyscripture.net author Don Schwager

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giant-dekubowl-ship · 4 years

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Hooky is a DAMM GOOD webtoon and you should all read it.

Every want to read a long-running epic? Do you like magic and witchcraft in your stories? Is the thought of a colorful cast (literally and figuratively) enough to catch your attention? Do you like stories that are all about love - familial, romantic and platonic? Want all of what was mentioned above to be renditioned in beautifully drawn and flowing tapestries?

If so then Hooky - a webtoon by Miriam Bonastre Tur is just for you.

Its a story deserving of a seat next to the ‘greats’ people quote when talking about storytelling on the level of Avatar: The Last Airbender and the like. This is not being said lightly. The pitfalls of any kind of story that goes on for longer than a few episodes or chapters or storytelling arcs is that they may lose their way. Lose track of what the initial chapters were trying to tell or lose focus and bloat up into messy storytelling. This can happen in any medium and webtoon is certainly not immune.

There are many great stories in webtoon - but many, just like a certain shonen jump manga which continued and stretched until the publisher itself decided to give it the infamous ax - continue their stories until they are unrecognizable. Sometimes, ending the story at just the right time makes a story that much more precious to its readers.

On webtoon, there are certainly quite a few great stories both ongoing and complete that have this ephemeral air of just right. Those kinds of stories that read confidently with the attitude of an individual who has a goal and will and does complete it.

I personally have many series I hold dear to my heart which are themselves webtoons. Today though I’m here to talk about Hooky.

The Story

Hooky, a series so good, that if it were a manga I’d want it turned into an anime and if it were a comic I’d want it turned into a cartoon. And even as a webtoon, I just want someone to bring this to the big screens.

Its a story about many things. At its heart, it's about love and the lack thereof it (as cheesy as this sounds). Divides from distrust, lashings from hatred, misunderstandings from miscommunication all looked at different levels. From the interpersonal to the societal. Miriam weives a careful and interesting narrative on what can quickly become a complicated and controversial topic.

Its a series that starts off quaint and oh so very sweet. Akin to Disney's retelling of all the classic fairy tales.

Two twins, Dani and Dorian dash through a pastel rendition of a Spanish village, dressed in matching black robes as they run late for their school bus. Upon missing their only ticket to the hidden rendition of Hogwarts this world has they have a brilliant idea to hide this from their parents. And instead, find a mentor in magic as an alternative.

From then on its a swirling adventure as these children navigate a world they’ve obviously never interacted with. It's a fairy tale - but not from Disney - that takes some interesting inspiration from the famous stories fables. Hansel and Gretel being an example which comes to mind.

Going back to comparing Hooky with Avatar - it’s a story with its high and low moments for the characters. Just like Aang, the main duo of this story, don’t always get to play around with their equivalent of Elephant koi. It’s at times grim but not overly gritty. It doesn't revel in life’s tragedies any more than it indulges in fantasy’s escapism.

Our main characters find themselves in a world they quickly realize they know very little about and it is quickly made obvious to both us the viewer and the twins, that not everything is exactly as simple as it seems to the inexperienced eyes of the child twins.

In a way, they are almost perfect reflections to us readers. Ignorant and oblivious to the reality of this open and unexplored world. Almost except for the fact that unlike them, we have some grounding story elements of the initial fables interwoven into the narrative.

Taking inspiration from a story does not mean copying it however and this is certainly true of Hooky, which is it's own grounded and fleshed out tale.

The world-building starts off in the form of little one-off lines and details which quickly snowball into a predominant feature of the story. Something that demands the attention of both you and the characters. The story and its contents evolve and mature just like the characters as they grow up both figuratively and literally.

Scenes and events happening as early as chapter one will come back later. Twists, turns, self-fulfilling prophecies - all of which given this series a wonderful re-read value (in addition to the first read-through ride).

There’s so much I could say about Hooky and it’s story and storytelling. However, much of it is walled off behind intricate layers of world-building and scenes - all of which are too spoil-ery for me to justify, well, spoiling it.

Instead, I’ll move forward to another greatly quality of this story: Its characters.

The Characters

This story’s characters are much of its charm. If you can’t find yourself enjoying Dani and Dorian’s antics along with their friends - then much of this story will fall flat.

They should not though, because, every character it a well and finely crafted piece of art.

First, we have the main duo: the aforementioned twins. Both are polar opposites in character, as many twins tend to be written - but both come off as very genuine and their sibling love for each other comes across even more so.

It’s the little things that make them work. The sibling bickering, the disagreements that put them at odds but eventually bring them back together. The fierce care and protectiveness they have despite this and hostility that will sprout against anyone that attacks one or the other. They won’t be finishing each other’s sentences but no one else in the world would understand their unsaid words better than they do with each other.

Dorian, the brother is the ‘book smart’, the skill. He likes to think of himself as a well-read gentleman but isn't all that prideful over it (for the most part). He doesn’t handle the more rambunctious boys his age well despite his admiration of them and needs to socialize.

If there is one thing he’s proud and or defensive over it’s his magic. His wizard heritage and family name - no matter what the outside world’s opinion of it is hell stubbornly hold on to it. A flip side to his genuine and endearing clumsiness when friends are in the picture is the fact that he is perhaps more cynical or anxious than his sister. He’s far from perfect, but again this is due to his youth and inexperience rather than any lingering personality flaw. Throughout the story, he does many things, both good and bad - but everything he does is consistent and grounded as the individual he’s been built up to be.

Dani is the more outgoing of the two twins, she’s more so the ‘raw power’ of the duo. Despite being just as sheltered as her brother, she’s a step ahead of her brother when facing the uncertain, confident, adventurous but rash - despite how this gets her into trouble.

She is, however just as sensitive as her brother. In fact, all the while being more outgoing it can seem like she is more easily pressured by the views of others on her than her bother at times, the more easily influenced by the world around her.

There is also a vast supporting cast of characters in addition to our interesting twin due. Some of which I doubt hesitate to even call just “side” characters with the role they continuously play.

There’s Nico, a rambunctious village boy - who just wants to properly get the chance to grow up as a wizard’s apprentice despite his ‘lack’ of ability with magic. He’s first introduced as one of those ‘rough around the edges’ individuals with a somewhat un-empathetic temperament.

As the story’s scope grows and as our characters mature with their experiences, however, Nico is quickly one of the characters who take the lead in his development. Considering where he started, he ends up one of the most grounded and wise characters.

Our next character is Princess Monica. As per her moniker - she certainly starts off impersonating her title. Stuffy, self-aggrandising, very obtuse regarding the lives of everyday people - the list goes one. Her introduction is set with her decision to embark on a quest to find her prince charming.

Just like our main character duo, she is very sheltered, however. And quickly she’ll discover that her wants and beliefs may clash with reality. This pompous air (which may annoy some readers) thankfully, does not last long. Monica quickly blooms to be one of the most empathetic and hardworking characters within the story. Her blooming relationship with Dorian is as agonisingly anxiety inducing as it is heartwarming to see.

I could talk at length about the other characters, but if I did this post would go on and on. But certainly, Mark, Alex, Damien, Will, Master Pendragon, the King, the Wytte family - all are intriguing and compelling characters which will keep you around if you’re not hooked already.

The Art

The final thing to this post is me just briefly discussing the art. If you haven't noted already from the screenshots - it’s gorgeous and unique. Here the author/artist takes full advantage of the medium provided to her. Scenes will flow down for pages, something only possible in the webtoon. Characters will talk in coloured speech bubbles, something only possible in coloured and static media such as comics.

The art in this series is nothing close to static, however. It's dynamic and inventive in its paneling in a way that brings so much charm to the series.

Emotional moments are that much more impactful as you, the readers, are swept through both dream-like and nightmarish scenes alike. Scenes will flow just as much as they will pause between panels, letting words and emotions soak in. They build up awe as well as they do tension and dread. The artistry of the author develops along with the story is nothing short of beautiful especially as we reach the current ending arc’s climax and denouement.

To Summarise

Hooky is a well-crafted piece of writing that I hope more people learn about and get to read. It's currently going into its final arc (as of writing this post) and I can attest that it certainly is worth the read. While as a story it enjoyed taking after the grim origins of our favourite fairy tales, it never forgets what it once was - a story about two twins just missing their school bus - and it makes sure to show the readers it hasn’t forgotten with a fairy tale ending fit for a child’s bedtime story its so sweet.

#hooky #hooky webtoon #dani hooky #dorian wytte #dorian hooky #webtoon #own post #webtoon review #webtoon recommendation #writing #storytelling #art

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mythopoeticreality · 4 years

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Okay. Alright. I’ve been trying to figure out how to put all of these thoughts into words for the past couple of days now, and I thiiink I‘ve gotten this into a place where I can communicate it all clearly? (you know rather than a flailing keyboard smash about Norrell and Strange and John Uskglass xD) Sooo....yeah. Time for some more rambling about the Raven King? Time for some more rambling about the Raven King!

Something that I’ve wondered a lot over the years I’ve spent writing and roleplaying as John Uskglass has been his attitude towards Fairy Abductions. In the book, just before Strange and Norrell summon the Raven King one of Norrell’s objections to the entire plan is this: “What will he care about two lost women? You are thinking of John Uskglass as if he was an ordinary man. I mean a man like you or me. He was brought up and educated in Faerie. The ways of the brugh were natural to him and most brughs contained captive Christians -- he was one himself. It will not seem so extraordinary to him. He will not understand.”

In essence here, Norrell is basically saying, ‘John Uskglass will not care’ and I can’t help but feel that his words are more of a refection on himself and his own still lingering attitudes towards the Raven King. I mean, the last time Norrell and Strange spoke together, didn’t Norrell just outright say it? “Do you think he cares what happens to England? I tell you he does not. He abandoned us long ago.” Norrell tried so desperately wen he was younger to find the Raven King. He is a Northerner, born and raised amidst stories and tales of John Uskglass’s deeds and surrounded by his legacy every day of his life; This is the same environment that Childermass -- who’s own devotion to the Raven King is made obvious -- grew up in, and so much of our knowledge of the Raven King does come from Norrell, he could be called one of our foremost experts on him in the book! But he felt betrayed, abandoned by the King as well, and that kind of bitterness doesn’t simply just go away. And now Strange wants to summon the King? Like Norrell tried and failed to do when he was younger? Imagine how close to home that would hit, how that could reawaken that sort of bitterness!

Meanwhile Strange replies with, “Then I will explain it to him, Mr Norrell.” He believes he can convince the King. Of course, this could all be chalked up as arrogance on Strange’s part -- ‘Arrogance’ is so much a part of his character that it was his name in the Prophecy after all! But his plan was to summon the King from the beginning. He believes that John Uskglass will be sympathetic to his plight. Our first introduction to Strange in this chapter, we see him reading from a book, listing off recorded historical cases of Fairy Abduction. “Seven people from Norwich in 1124...Four from Aysgarth in Yorkshire at Christmas in 1151, twenty three at Exeter in 1201, one from Hathersage in Derbyshire in 1243 -- all enchanted and stolen away into Faerie. It was a problem he never solved.” And here strange is presenting Fairy Abduction as something the King would see as a problem, would want to see solved. Not as something that just happens as a matter of course, as natural as the wind or rain.

And honestly, I think we should believe Strange’s view over Norrell’s here. I think that of the two of them, though Norrell might know more of the Raven King intellectually, Strange has displayed more of an....emotional understanding? A sympathy? for the Raven King. (well, inasmuch as anyone can understand the Raven King on any level, atleast xD) I’ve already gone into this more in a post I wrote a while back over here, but during the battle of Waterloo, Strange’s experience casting Pale’s Conjectures Concerning the Foreshadowing of Things To Come reflects something of his later description of the young Raven King after his conquest of England. Look, compare this:

“Until this moment it had never seemed to him that his magicianship set him apart from other men. But now he had glimpsed the wrong side of something. He had the eeriest feeling – as if the world were growing older around him, and the best part of existence – laughter, love and innocence – were slipping irrevocably into the past.”

to this:

“He was pale and handsome and solemn-faced.” Said of a boy fifteen years old, and newly successful in accomplishing all of his goals. As I said in that previous post, you would expect something more triumphant and celebratory to be in his expression --especially as he was raised by fairies. Can you imagine the Gentleman not crowing about his victories, after all? But instead he carries that same air about him, after battle, that Strange feels and experiences, looking out to the results of the battle he is about to fight, Melancholy, lonely, “as if the world were growing older around him, and the best part of existence – laughter, love and innocence – were slipping irrevocably into the past.”

So Strange has already once glimpsed something of what it was to be John Uskglass, but then, here at the beginning of the very chapter where he’s proposing to Norrell to summon the Raven King, he returns, just newly having gone through perhaps the experience that brings him as close to the Raven King as he ever has been: “I suppose it is because I have been many things since last we met. I have been trees and rivers and hills and stones. I have spoken to stars and earth and wind. One cannot be the conduit through which all English magic flows and still be oneself.”

So yeah, on some level I would say Strange had more of an understanding of the Raven King than Norrell does, or atleast a very different one, not blinded by the same bitterness that Norrell feels towards him. But does that necessarily mean he understands The Raven King in regards to how he feels about Fairy Kidnappings? Does John Uskglass view this as an issue? Does he care?

What’s interesting to note here are the locations and numbers of the dissaperances. Seven people from Norwich in 1124, Four from Aysgarth in Yorkshire at Christmas in 1151, twenty three at Exeter in 1201, one from Hathersage in Derbyshire in 1243. Norwich is in East Anglia, Aysgarth is in Yorkshire, Exeter is in Devon, and Heathersage is in Derbyshire. Interestingly, the places where the most people disappear are outside of the Raven King’s kingdom of Northern England. Perhaps it’s almost as if his presence there is discouraging such captures?

Of course, if we’re going to talk about Fairy Abductions, we cannot overlook the case of Buckler and Brandford-upon-Avon. In 1310 Buckler offered to act as the Fairy Servant of a minor magician known as Simon Bloodworth. After serving the magician and gaining the trust of the Household, Buckler managed to spirit back off to Faerie seventeen members of the Bloodworth Household, both of the family and servants. The Raven King sent magicians from his own court to investigate the matter of the dissaperances, but they were unable to discover the whereabouts of the Bloodworth family. Important to note here, in regards to our current discussion, however is the fact that the Raven King? He didn’t have to do anything about this. He did’t need to have anyone look into the dissaperances at all if he didn’t think it was an issue. Bradford-upon-Avon is in the South, and well outside the Raven King’s own Kingdom. Meanwhile, Simon Bloodworth was a rather minor magician who’s wife was lured into Faerie partially by the promises of spells that would ease the workload of her and her daughters, that they might not have to be constantly “sweeping and cooking and cleaning.” Such hardly speaks to a family of any importance, so even the political benefits of taking an interest in the matter seem negligible. But the Raven King did take an interest in the disappearance of the Bloodworth Household, and he sent two of his own Magicians into the South to do something about it!

Even the very presence and mere existence of the court of Folflures suggests far more about John Uskglass’s concern about the consequences of Fairy actions in England -- including Kidnapping -- than Norrell’s assertions would have one believe. Why else have a court committed solely to settling disputes and trying the crimes committed by Fairies?

But of course none of this is to say that the Raven King has a completely human viewpoint on the matter of Fairy Abductions either. The Raven King himself is said to have spirited off several men and women to live with him in his home in Faerie-- to the point of there even being a ballad written about it. Not to mention the fact that his entire plan to bring Magic back to England involved the Abduction of three innocent people for over a decade -- no matter that in the end he also planned for an end to their capture in the form of Stephen’s rise to Kingship over Lost Hope as well. But...I don’t think it’s quite as simple as Norrell believes it either. Yes, he was raised in Faerie and their ways might at times seem more natural to him even than human ways. At the same time however, he has spent over 300 years amongst humanity, and in the course of his life amongst other human beings, even Norrell had to admit that he became “less like a fairy and more like a man.” Perhaps in the beginning he wouldn’t have understood, not really, but as he began to live more amongst his human subjects? As he began to develop connections himself, as he taught his apprentices, as he gained friendships, found people he actually cared about personally? How could he not understand, atleast on some level?

So yeah. I don’t...I don’t think The Raven King views such things as necessarily wrong all of the time, under every circumstance, but at the same time I certainly don’t think that he wouldn’t care or understand that kind of grief at separation at all. I don’t know. I think his opinions on such Fairy abductions were ambivalent and complicated, and were constantly changing over the course of his life, and even after all this thinking and rambling about it I’m still kind of trying to sort it all out. What do y’all think? I’d really love to talk to someone about this :D

#John Uskglass #Gilbert Norrell #Jonathan Strange #Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell #meta

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noprodigalson · 4 years

Text

@tzdkh gets a drabble

there’s a slight tint of yellow to the sky as the sun begins to pull itself up along the horizon, just begging to reach up against the edges of the mountains that surrounded this quaint montanan town. dean can understand why deacon remains here. there may be no room for growth, there may be that feeling of laziness that hung in the air like a blanket of low hanging clouds that refused to budge, but dean found himself embracing that particular attitude the more he lingered in the area. people were content here, happy with their life and how they lived.

how long had it been since dean had felt that way ?

with his breath getting heavier with each mile he pushed, the hunter kept his gaze towards the morning light. a thought crossed his mind. what would happen if he just remained on this path ? allowed his feet to stray from the pavement he was running on and took off over that distantly glowing line. no more aimlessly heading where his life decided to take him, instead taking control of the direction he wished to choose ? such an idea was almost terrifying with the unknowns it contained, but even with all those variables there’d be one constant. a direction, a goal. a pathway for the hunter to finally forge as his own.

slowing down as the yellow and white lines began to stray to the left, dean took the chance to catch his breath as he stared at the edges of the valley this county resided in. shoes toed the line of pavement and dirt while dean’s sweat slicked chest rose and fell with every gulp of air. how difficult would the journey be ? what trails would the winchester have to face for just the smallest feeling of control for once in the convulsed mess of a life he had.

he waited as the beginnings of light began to make themselves noticeable above the ridges of the mountains, dean having to shield his eyes as it became more difficult for him to watch the sunrise. eyes blinked as he tried to get rid of the flare of brightness from his sight, turning to see just how far he had gone on this particular journey. a small glint captured dean’s attention, traveling along the same road dean had just jogged. with his gaze turned away from the east, he watched the approaching glimmer that was clearly some kind of vehicle. it wasn’t clear who was following dean’s path until the car began to slow, windows rolled down to reveal a familiar face.

“ here to throw me in the back or do i get to ride upfront this time ? ” dean says, finding time to speak between his heavy breaths. the hand he had used to shield his eyes from the sun wipes away the sweat collecting on his brow as dean steps away from the curve in the road, feet returning to fully place themselves on the weathered asphalt.

there’s a smile on deacon’s face as they hear dean’s words, soft and forgiving. dean can’t help but to mimic the gesture. he promises that he was on his best behavior unless the notion of handcuffs is involved.

dean stares at the lines on deacon’s face while sitting beside him, remembering how their weathered skin felt against his fingertips. the touch had been soft despite the intensity of the thoughts bouncing around in that brain of his. time had passed without the trading of words, eyes wandering across each other’s faces as they watched the minute expressions that betrayed their thoughts. they spoke wordlessly in tandem —- to what lengths would i go for this man ? just what am i doing here ? does he know that i would die for him ?

as dean watches the deputy drive, he knows that the direction he chose doesn’t lay in the wilderness and mountains of hope county. there was no need to become a trailblazer, racing towards the unobtainable finish line he had longed for earlier this morning. there was already a path for dean to follow. while it may not be paved or be direct, it was laid out in-front of the hunter; just like the lines of deacon’s face dean had traced earlier, all roads he now travels end at the same destination.

a decision had been made, even if dean struggled to realize it. no longer was he letting the wind take him wherever it wished. the anemoi may wish to have their way with whisking the hunter away without any clear purpose, the moirai may try their best to dictate the winchester’s purpose without care, but dean had finally taken the matter of his life into his own hands for once. he had taken control finally, only realizing it in the exchange of silence.

he had already reached the horizon line —- now he just required the assiduity to remain.

there was a laugh from mary may as the body spun with a drunken flourish, only for another to safely catch them from falling over while the two continued to dance. their joy was refreshing, having seen this particular bar just a few weeks before wrought with tension. the air had been heavy, bearing down on people’s shoulders as they hunched over their drinks, unsure of what was to come in the following days. not even all the liquor provided by the spread eagle was able to wash away all the stress the people had carried. they had been a grim sight in what used to be refuge for those beaten and lost, but not even fall’s end’s popular watering hole was safe from the threat of the project.

and they were right to harbor that feeling of fear. it hadn’t even been a week when the project had decided to move against the town. the bar had received a few new scars during its occupation, like many of the residents, but time had helped heal those wounds.

fingers rapped against the counter in tempo to the music, an attempt to play the drums along with bob burns. dean knew he was probably butchering the part, but spirits where high and he had just enough drink to not worry about what others thought. eyes continued to watched the couple dance as the song began to end and they took a clumsy bow at the sound hands clapping. he quickly finished his drink, only a few drops left, before looking disappointedly at the empty glass. however help was on its way, as he found the gaze of the blonde behind the counter.

“ where’s your deputy ? ” the question was asked with a knowing smile on her face, even as dean’s eyebrows rose. his deputy ? he hadn’t been aware others had been talking like that. mary may seemed almost amused at his expression, filling his glass back to full with dean’s drink of choice. he voiced the question he asked in his head —- it still lingered there, rattling around as he still couldn’t quite process those words. his deputy. the only answer he receives is a pointed look to his head, her own brow raising in a way that told him she was questioning just how smart the hunter was. a hand reaches up to touch the brim of the hat he wore, allowing it to bring a smile to his face. the memory of how he had first liberated this hat played through his head. that day was the same day dean first set his sights on deacon saint. a too good deputy just trying his best during difficult times, who had his hands full the instant they tried to hold onto to dean winchester.

he presses a finger to his lips, playing coy about how he once more seemed to have come into possession of deacon’s hat. it was apparently no secret that the two of them were having their own kind of dance, a regular game of cops and robbers. there’s a roll of eyes in response, but her own smile doesn’t drop. “ you’re a troublemaker, but i’ll keep filling that glass of yours as long as you keep outta fights today. ”

dean rises to the bait as she begins to step away, turning to her other patrons that needed their own refills. “ just today ? think you can pencil me in tomorrow ? hey, wait ! how about thursday ? ” he calls out, only to receive two fingers pointer at her eyes before having them turned his way. a laugh escapes dean’s lips, picking up his refilled glass to take a sip. his deputy, dean muses to himself, feeling the burn of whiskey lingering in the back of his throat.

dean stays true to his word and is back in the following days. however there’s a distinct lack of applause and grins thanks to the news coming from the whitetail mountains. the militia was barely holding out, with every step forwards, the project forcing them another two back. while dean attempted to maintain a neutral position in the conflict —- he’s had enough of doomsday prophecies and people thinking they could use him to win wars ; if angels and demons could try and fail in their attempts to make the winchester their pawn, dean would rather die before some jumped up humans on hallucinogenic drugs toyed with his fate —- he knows deacon is doing his best in helping the citizens of hope county. dean will help the innocent, prevent those who want no part of this war from getting involved, but his loyalty lies with a single person.

both factions would be razed to the ground if anything happened to his deputy, no matter if that wasn’t what deacon would have wanted. dean could handle disappointment, he was used to being on the receiving end of that particular emotion, and he would sacrifice everything that made him happy to make sure nobody would even think about laying a hand on deacon saint.

even if that meant losing him.

the conversation is soft, making dean strain his ears to hear what’s being said. he doesn’t bother to look at them, the neon bar signs providing little light and with night already fallen, the dimness hardly allows for too many details to be seen. so dean focuses on how his fingers grasp the glass in hand and listens. there’s not much that dean doesn’t already know, having poked around the files the police force has.

there are flaws in their movements that are easily seen by the trained eye. growing up as a hunter, with his dad’s background in the marines, tactics come second nature for dean. he’s used to working in groups, moving people around that best suits their talents. while many in this county have some sort of military background, they’ve never had to deal with opponents that were consistently stronger and more prepared than they were. dean didn’t have much room to judge, but in most of their cases, they never really had the intelligence to be placed in a leadership position as well. they were sloppy, overestimating their own abilities while not giving the project the respect they deserved. another issue, dean had learned, was that they relied too heavily on the select few who did have talent while not providing the support they deserved —- and when things went wrong . . . well, the blame was easily thrown around.

“ maybe he’s just making things worse. ”

a simple comment, one that didn’t really hold any heat, but still introduced as a possibility.

the hunter’s eyes drift away from his drink and towards the group of men talking among themselves. mary may moves closer to dean, as if sensing the anger rising within him. he’s unsure what her goal is, but he dismisses the presence easily. listening a bit more intensely, there’s a few murmurs of assent, unsure if they agree with what’s being said, but allowing their idea to gain traction in their closed circuit of thoughts. if any of the other patrons heard what was being said, nobody speaks out and that only makes the matter worse.

“ what, you think your bitch ass could do any better ? didn’t know having a fuckin’ beer gut made you threatening. ”

words flow easily out of dean’s mouth, as glasses are cleared from the bar in preparation. the winchester name may not hold much sway as a hunter in this particular community, but those who frequent the spread eagle know dean and stay clear of him for different reasons. the trio that dean turned his attention to clearly hadn’t gotten the memo of why most people give dean a healthy radius. they rise to the bait with the idea they outnumber the blond. dean knows exactly what they’re thinking : he’s too pretty to be a threat, lacking muscle definition and weight —- an easy target to let some of their frustrations out on. the stooges don’t notice the glances they receive are of worry, that people are slowly dissipating around them, not willing to get caught in the cross fire. they don’t hear the phone call from behind the bar asking for an ambulance for three.

what they do hear is the call for them to take their spat outside, dean agreeing as he continues to trade barbs, riling the group up more. He takes notice of their gait, watching how they move with a slight stagger —- one in particular had a shuffle to their step, giving away an old wound that never healed correctly ( dean files that away, knowing that limo was only going to be worse after this particular scuffle ) .

the night air is refreshing after being in a stuffy bar. dean takes his coat off along with the deputy’s hat, partially because he didn’t want to get them damaged, but also using it as a guise to remover the gun he keeps resting against the small of his back. there’s tension in the cool mountain air as the others wait for the hunter to square up. they laugh at his posture, refusing to raise his fists just yet and read it as a sign of weakness. dean knows the rattle against the window are those who placed bets, peaking between the blinds to see just who was going to win. he’s unsure who makes the last remark, but it’s the final straw. the slur they used against him is easily brushed off, but the fact they also choose to drag deacon into the insult ? dean may not fight for himself much, but he’d never allow others to think they could get away with believing that of his deputy.

muscle memory takes over for most of the fight, dean lost in a haze of anger as he barely registers fists connecting to jaws, elbows coming down on arms just to hear the bone shatter against the hunter’s weight. a boot comes down against the leg he had spotted from earlier, hearing a cry of pain. he doesn’t come out completely unscathed, a given considering the odds. bruises were gonna appear along his torso where ribs were cracked, skin split along his cheekbone after a knee finds its home there. his mouth is filled with blood, knuckles raw from every hit landed. but one by one the three stooges fall, sirens wailing in the distance.

red lights flash against the side of the bar and dean knows everything was drawing to an end. the anger hadn’t subsided yet, even as blood drips down against his eye from a cut on his brow, that thick bitter liquid sliding into his mouth from where his lip had split open. if anything, the fact that the paramedics were here makes him even angrier. news of this fight was going to get around town, not to mention it’d be documented by the meager police force that tried to maintain a sense of normalcy ; and if they filed a report, that meant it was going to fall into a particular deputy’s hands. and that ? made dean burn with a self-flagellating rage. already the soft sigh of defeat could be heard, that weary look that rested heavily on the deputy’s face was playing through dean’s mind. he couldn’t help the display of emotion as hunter yelled into the night, frustrated at the turn of events. one of the bodies on the floor before dean twitched in fear, gaining dean’s focus. fingers grasp their oily hair as dean throws all his irritation into one last movement. there’s a resounding crack as the man’s face hits the side of the bar, nose breaking against the impact as the noise drowns out dean’s heavy breathing. teeth clench as dean wishes he gave the other’s more of a chance to get a few more hits in. the pain would have been welcomed compared to the crushing dismay that began to settle along his shoulders. dean falls to the ground, the concrete jarring his backside as dean looses the strength to continue standing under this new weight. was deacon one of those who had shown up ? was he able to see the destruction that dean was responsible for ? was he watching still, or had he finally decided to walk away ?

did it even matter at this point ?

he can hear mary may in the background, but doesn’t look up from the hands holding up his face. it’s not until he feels her hand on his shoulder that he pays attention. “ got your hat kid. c’mon, i got a room in the bar for ya. ”

the effort is appreciated, but there’s still the feeling of being lost. displaced. dean had been so sure about what he had, but one slip of someone’s tongue had that certainty falling through his grasp. accepting the help to stand up, he moves along back towards the bar.

“ wasn’t pretty, but we all had your back. they deserved everything you gave them for talking shit like that. ”

dean stayed silent for the most part. mary may’s approval was nice, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. before he passes out in the bed being loaned out to him, he waits until he hears her leave, closing the door and walking back down to the main floor of the bar.

“ guess i’ll be getting what i deserve too. ”

#tzdkh #deacon saint tag #drabble tag

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flightfoot · 5 years

Text

Memories of Godly Selfishness Ch. 6 - END

I tried not to think about where we were going or what we were going to do.

Two days ago, I’d received a prophecy indicating what I needed to do in order to defeat Python. I still wasn’t sure about what all of it meant - prophecies are almost NEVER that straightforward, something I’d grown quite annoyed about during my time as a mortal - but one part of it was clear: we needed Python’s skin.

I’d vaguely remembered the skin being left as a trophy last time I defeated Python. I hadn’t wanted anything to do with it. I didn’t wish for any reminders of that fight. I couldn’t just leave it there, though. One of my Oracles would reside there, and I didn’t want her to have to put up with a dead snake in the same room.

So I’d taken it back to Olympus and stuffed it... somewhere. I didn’t remember where, and I didn’t WANT to remember. Python haunted my thoughts enough without having his skin in my face.

I’d avoided my palace on Olympus for months after that. I just - I couldn’t sleep, knowing it was still around up there, knowing exactly where it was. I hung around Artemis a lot, wanting to do SOMETHING to keep my mind off of it.

Of course she figured out what I was doing. She’s my twin. As much as we drive each other crazy, we UNDERSTAND each other.

After another day of spending just a little too long hanging around her camp, she confronted me.

“Why are you avoiding Olympus?”

“Avoiding? I’m not avoiding anywhere. I just wanted to spend more time with these lovely ladies.”

Artemis turned her piercing eyes on me, her face set in her patented I-don’t-have-time-for-screwing-around expression.

Well, so much for that denial.

I sighed. “Look, I- I just don’t want to think about some stuff, okay? It’s easier when I’m down here, to just - forget for awhile.”

Her face softened. “It’s Python, isn’t it?”

“...No.”

She stared at me some more.

“Okay, fine, it is! I keep on thinking about the fight. I mean, I won super easily and quickly, there were no problems, it was easy. But I can’t stop thinking about it. No idea why.”

I could tell she didn’t believe me for a second, but she didn’t push. Well, not on how ‘easy’ it was, at least.There was no way she’d just leave it at that, though.

“Is there anything I can do to help? You should feel comfortable in your own palace.”

I bit my lip. On the one hand, I really didn’t want her to know that I was THIS affected just by having Python’s skin around. On the other hand, she was right, and I did want to be able to enjoy Olympus again. And as much as we teased each other, as much as we could argue, she wouldn’t make fun of me for this.

“...Python’s skin. Could you take it somewhere else? Somewhere safe, but where I won’t run across it?”

It was basically an admission of how much Python had affected me, something I didn’t even want to admit to myself. But if that knowledge was safe with anyone, it was with Artemis (and Leto of course. She would understand, but I didn’t want to bring back her own memories of Python.)

“Ok. Just tell me where it is. It’ll be gone and safely hidden by the end of the day.”

So I told her the location. Sure enough, by the end of the day, the snakeskin was gone.

I’d collapsed right then and there. It was GONE. I didn’t need to think about it anymore. Artemis had taken care of it. It wasn’t here.

So when the prophecy had called for Python’s skin, I’d immediately sought out my sister’s Hunters. I couldn’t see my sister, but it was entirely possible that they would know where it was.

Then I remembered who her current lieutenant was.

Thalia Grace.

My blood turned to ice.

I’d talked to her a few months ago, at Camp Jupiter. I’d needed to tell her that her brother was dead.

She already knew, of course. My sister may not be able to visit in person right now, but she could get away with visiting her lieutenant in a dream.

It was worth the risk anyway. Thalia needed to know.

So by the time I’d told her, she already knew.

She hadn’t wanted to believe it. She’d tried to tell herself it was just a dream, but she knew better. And one look at my face had confirmed it.

Telling her what happened... that Jason KNEW he was going to die, that he TOLD me it would happen, and I STILL let him come... I hadn’t thought I could feel any worse about Jason’s death than I already did. I should’ve known better.

She only punched me once, surprisingly enough.

We’d avoided each other after that. I needed to give her space to process, and she REALLY didn’t want to see me. When we had interacted, she’d been coolly stand-offish, saying the bare minimum necessary, and then leaving the area.

So when I’d told her that we needed to retrieve Python’s skin, neither of us were too happy about it. Still, the way her eyes had hardened when I’d mentioned it, and the way her snippiness had increased... there was something more going on.

Something I should know.

I groaned. Curse my faulty mortal memory! Or at least, I’d LIKE to curse it. But a nagging sensation in the back of my head whispered Don’t think about it. Don’t remember.

Last time I’d felt anything like this, I’d been repressing my memory of Agametheus’s death, of refusing to listen to my son’s pleas. Whatever memory I’d repressed this time was much, MUCH worse.

We needed to retrieve the skin as soon as possible, and with the way travel had become difficult (which I was pretty worried about. Is something wrong with Hermes?) we needed to use a more unconventional mode of transport.

Unfortunately, Leo and Festus weren’t at Camp Half-Blood when we received the prophecy.

Fortunately, Nico Di Angelo was.

It seemed that Nico’s range and stamina had increased quite a bit from the last time I’d seen him. He’d volunteered to take Meg, Thalia, and I to our destination, some kind of ruins in Virginia.

At that point Will had cut in, “Not without me.”

Nico had opened his mouth, looking like he might try to protest, but Will just said, “Nope. Nico, I love you, but you have NO self-preservation instincts, and the last time you transported people across the country, you nearly faded into shadow. Coach Hedge helped keep you alive last time. This time, I’M going to be your healer.”

And with that Nico’s jaw clicked shut and he nodded.

I should have felt elated. I was getting to spend more time with one of my children and my future son-in-law! And I WAS happy about that.

Yet a dark coil of dread filled my stomach. Whatever was waiting for us at the ruins, I didn’t want Will to see it. Will was right though, Nico needed him, and we needed Nico. I couldn’t protest. Whatever was causing this guilt and dread, Will would find out about it too.

Three shadow-jumps and two days later, we arrived at our destination. Will had insisted on taking a little more time than was strictly necessary to rest, so that Nico would still have some energy left over in case we needed to leave in a hurry.

We manifested in the middle of a traffic circle. Of course, no mortals noticed us. The Mist was able to hide a gigantic metal dragon, hiding five teenagers emerging from shadows was a cakewalk by comparison.

Thalia looked over at a nearby statue of Robert E. Lee. I heard her mutter, “We’re close.” I didn’t know whether she was talking to herself or us.

She strode forwards, very purposely not looking at me, nor anyone else for that matter. I looked closely at her face as we walked. She’d been stony-faced through the whole journey here, which I’d assumed was her way of keeping her composure after finding out about Jason’s death. After finding out that she’d be traveling with me. With the person responsible for sending Jason on the quest he’d died trying to complete.

But now. Now her expression had cracked. Her eyes screwed up slightly, and her eyes appeared wetter than normal. She had a personal history with wherever we were about to go - wherever Python’s skin was. Judging by her expression, it wasn’t a happy one.

The dread and guilt doubled, pressing down on me. I stumbled.

“Apollo!” Meg cried.

“I’m- I’m okay,” I choked out.

That was a lie. But what could she do? I didn’t know what was wrong, and whatever it was, I doubted she could help me. My sins were my own. I’d faced myself, faced my ignorance, my apathy, my casual cruelty on many past occasions.

I’d seen the way I’d threatened to murder innocent demigods and satyrs, just because I was panicking. Heck, I’d threatened to murder Grover just because he scratched my lyre on a quest I FORCED on him and Percy!

That fear in Leo’s eyes as he frantically tried to redirect my panic away from murder-mode... the stammer in Grover’s voice as he wilted under my gaze... I never wanted to see or hear them again. I wanted to be loved, not feared. At least I’d made some progress towards that, at the satyr school.

I smiled briefly. Those three young satyrs, Fern, Aster, and Wren, had started off being terrified of me. Yet I’d gotten them to open up, to see that I wouldn’t hurt them. I’d changed their perception of me, even now, as a mortal. I’d made a change. I hadn’t needed to regain my throne first to make a difference.

For some changes, I WOULD need to regain my throne first. The other gods weren’t allowed to talk to me currently, and I NEEDED to talk to them. We needed to change our attitudes towards mortals - towards demigods - towards our FAMILY. There was only so much I could do on my own.

The flashback of Otis and Ephialtes had shown me how uncaring the other gods could be towards the demigods’ plight, even when we needed their help and their survival. Bacchus had refused to help the demigods until they’d ‘proven’ themselves. Percy had even given him a MASSIVE tribute, and yet he STILL only deigned to help after Percy and Jason had nearly died ‘entertaining’ him. And he had the nerve to claim credit for the defeat of the Giant twins afterwards! Bile rose in my throat as I remembered Bacchus’s words, “Being a god has its privileges.” Yes, and those privileges apparently included being a terrible person who’d just WATCH while two brave young teenagers desperately fought against enemies they couldn’t possibly defeat without help. Their lives didn’t matter. They were disposable.

Meg shot a concerned look at me. Abruptly, I noticed that I was shaking, my fist clenched so hard my knuckles had turned white.

I shot her a small smile and tried to relax. I didn’t want to have to explain my thoughts.

I turned my thoughts back towards my previous flashbacks, this time being more careful not to betray my feelings in my body language.

Things had to change. I couldn’t, I WOULDN’T let my godly brethren continue as they had. If I had to argue with them every day, I would. If I had to intervene myself to keep the demigods, OUR CHILDREN, safe, I would. Maybe I couldn’t fix everything, but I’d damn well TRY.

I didn’t really think I’d have to do it all alone, though. During the flashback I’d experienced with Percy, Annabeth, and Meg of Kronos’s defeat, I’d seen Percy’s conversation with Hermes.

Hermes had understood the worth of mortals. He’d cared about Luke SO MUCH, even knowing his future. But fate couldn’t be denied...

I gasped. Thankfully, my friends’ attention were on our surroundings, not on myself.

Fate couldn’t be denied. Terrible things happened to those who tried. When I’d thought about that during the conversation with Percy and Hermes, a mental block had slammed down. That same mental block reappeared this time, but something told me it had something to do with our destination, with the ruins and the snakeskin that were waiting for us there.

I couldn’t do anything about that now. The mental block wasn’t budging. I’d just have to wait until we got to the ruins to see why it had triggered.

I cast my mind back to Hermes. He’d looked at Percy with something akin to wonder when Percy had stated that the gods could change. He’d WANTED to change, he just hadn’t truly believed he could. We’d all fooled ourselves for so long, thinking we were unchanging, unable to grow. Yet he had. I had. Heck, even a Titan and a Giant had! Being immortal didn’t stop us from changing for the better. I would make sure we continued to change for the better, to make things better for those we always should have protected.

Those flashbacks had been painful, but they’d shown me things I needed to know. However painful the reason for this block, I needed to know.

I snuck a look at my companions. I wasn’t alone. I knew that now. I had friends. I could do this.

I steeled myself as we walked forwards.

We arrived at the ruins a few minutes later.

Well, ‘ruins’ was being a bit generous. There wasn’t a wall still standing. I knelt down and felt the ash at my feet.

“Greek Fire,” I murmured.

Thalia nodded, her face tight. “Luke and I helped burn this place to the ground.”

I looked up at her, startled. I’d figured that she’d been here before, but with Luke? “What happened?”

She looked over at me with wide eyes. “Wait, you don’t know?”

I shook my head. “My mortal memory is highly flawed. I can’t access most of my godly memories. Plus...” I swallowed hard. “I- I feel like I should know what happened here. Like I DO know, but I’ve blocked it out. Something so terrible that even as a god, I just wanted to forget about it.”

Thalia stared at me with an unreadable expression on her face. Before she could decide what to do with that information, I heard Meg cry out.

I rushed over to her. Thankfully, she appeared unhurt. “What’s wrong?” I asked, gripping my combat ukulele tightly.

She knelt down and brushed away some ashes to reveal two human skulls.

My breath caught. I wasn’t freaked out by human remains. I’d seen many, MANY dead humans over my four thousand years of existence. But I could still be freaked out by what they meant.

Gently I knelt down and picked up one of the skulls. Judging by its size and shape, it had belonged to a child no older than eight. The other skull was even smaller. The child it belonged to had still had all their baby teeth. They were probably barely out of toddlerhood.

I stumbled around the area - the impromptu graveyard. I kicked up skull after skull, almost all of them children. They stared up at me accusingly, yet I couldn’t remember what they were accusing me of. I’d had no parts in the deaths of these children - right?

Part of me knew I had. I had something to do with their deaths. I just didn’t remember how.

I breathed harder and harder, choking on the newly disturbed ash.

“Dad!”

Will rushed over, Nico by his side. He led me away from the ruins, towards the woods.

Normally woods filled me with shame and guilt with how they reminded me of Daphne. Right now, they were a relief. There weren’t any child skulls staring back at me here, and no ash to choke on.

I collected myself as best I could. “I’m- I’m okay. I’ll be fine. We need to find Python’s skin.”

Will nodded, but looked worried. “Do you know what happened here? You freaked out more than I thought you would when you found those skulls.”

“I- no. No, I don’t. But- I think I’m responsible for it. And that I’ll have to face my memories of it.”

Will frowned, but nodded. “Just remember that we’re here. We’re not gonna leave you.”

Tears filled my eyes and my throat tightened. What had I ever done to deserve such a wonderful son? “I know.”

We walked back to the ruins, being careful not to kick up too much ash. I steadfastly tried to ignore the occasional human bone I kicked up. I could do nothing for them now and could learn no lessons from their deaths until I knew what had happened. For now, I needed to concentrate on finding Python’s skin.

We split up and searched the ruins for nearly an hour. I uncovered bone after bone, skull after skull. With each discovery my conscience weighed on me more and more, until I felt like I was going to break. Your fault, your fault I heard from the other side of the mental block. They’re dead because of you. I couldn’t remember why, but I knew it was true.

Near the end of that hour, Thalia yelled “FOUND IT!”

Will, Meg, and I rushed over. Belatedly I realized that Nico wasn’t there. Looking around, I saw him deep in conversation with some spirit. He didn’t appear to have heard Thalia.

At Thalia’s feet, newly unearthed from under the ash, was a massive length of snake skin. And on top of that snake skin was a human skeleton.

Unlock most of the other skeletons we’d found, this one appeared to belong to an adult - an elderly one, at that. Thalia stared at the skeleton, a hard look in her eyes.

“Hal...” she murmured.

My mind exploded.

The world came into being around us. I groaned. The mental block I’d built up was crumbling.

Hal.

I knew him.

He was one of my sons.

And something terrible had happened to him.

I’d happened to him.

I didn’t know how or why yet, but I was certain I was responsible.

I pushed that thought away. Find out what was going on first, wallow in guilt later, once I knew for sure what I was guilty OF.

I rubbed my eyes and looked around.

Will and Thalia had tensed up, weapons drawn, waiting for an attack.

Meg just peered around, vaguely interested, but not alarmed.

Ah. Of course.

“Don’t worry,” I told Will and Thalia. “This is a flashback. They happen around me sometimes. Not sure why. None of this is really happening, we’re just revisiting someone’s memories of the past. Once it’s done, we’ll be back where we were. Meg and I have been through many if these, along with Percy and Annabeth.”

The three of them relaxed slightly, though they still seemed on-guard.

I looked around at our surroundings. We seemed to be in some kind of ballroom, that weirdly enough seemed to also be the entranceway to outside. Weird design, but okay. I’d seen weirder.

I heard a quiet click. The deadbolt turned. The door swung over, revealing two young demigods.

Two familiar young demigods.

“Thalia and Luke?” I asked.

They were way younger than I was used to. Thalia looked about twelve. Since she was normally (biologically) fifteen, that wasn’t a HUGE difference though.

Luke, on the other hand, looked to be about 14, which was a LOT younger than he was last time I saw him, in the flashback where he’d died. He’d been 23 at that point, a man. Seeing him and Thalia now... they were so young. So, so young.

My heart clenched. This wasn’t right. They should both be at camp, not wandering around, not knowing where their next meals would come from, constantly needing to watch for monsters.

How could we gods have EVER thought this was okay, letting CHILDREN fend for themselves? Even if they weren’t my own children, I couldn’t imagine leaving them like that. Not now. Not when I knew what it was like to be afraid of a monster killing you anytime you rested.

I was fortunate compared to those homeless demigods. I had never been alone. I always had allies, and ways of acquiring food. They had no such guarantee.

“That is so cool,” past!Thalia murmured.

The two young demigods marched in, Thalia taking the lead.

I looked over at the present Thalia. She stood stock-still, staring at Luke.

Ah, of course. I’d known they used to be close, and seeing him again now, before he died, before he started helping Kronos... I could only imagine how she was feeling. Perhaps I’d talk to her about it later, if we were on speaking terms at that point.

I turned my attention back to the past. Luke and Thalia seemed to be inspecting the room, though Luke moreso than Thalia. I frowned, taking a closer look myself.

The room looked pretty disheveled, the floor streaked with mud and some dried red-brown stuff -

Oh. That was blood. Well that’s not good.

I looked over at the furniture. In one corner stood a destroyed sofa, looking like something had torn it apart. Something strong with sharp teeth. Elsewhere in the room lay several smashed chairs.

The stairs were the worst. Trash was strewn at the base - along with human bones.

“Thalia,” I asked, my voice even. “please tell me you two turned around and left, and this was just a weird, but ultimately uneventful footnote on your travels together.”

Thalia shot me a glare. I wasn’t sure why. “Well, we TRIED to leave...”

*sshnk*

Past Thalia now held a spear. Seems she had noticed the bones too. Good.

Luke on the other hand...

“Thalia, why is Luke wielding a normal golf club, and not an ACTUAL WEAPON?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. I didn’t think I succeeded.

“Oh, he had a Celestial Bronze sword. It got melted into acid awhile before this. That golf club was all Luke had for a while,” she said off-handedly.

Great. Maybe the monster was some sort of a dog, and he could hit a ball really, REALLY far away while he and Thalia GOT OUT OF THERE.

Breathe, Apollo. Breathe. They survived this. You know they did. If they survived this, then you can survive WATCHING them go through this.

Luke spoke. “Maybe this isn’t such a good-”

The door slammed shut behind them.

Well that wasn’t good.

Luke tugged at the handle, but it wouldn’t open. He put his hand on the lock, trying to will it open, I imagined. Hermes’s kids could do that sometimes. Came with being children of the God of Thieves. It still didn’t budge.

“Some kind of magic,” Luke said. “We’re trapped.”

Past Thalia ran to a window, tugging at the drape. I supposed she was thinking of smashing a window to get out. Good thought, but I doubted that whoever came up with this trap would have left so obvious an escape method.

The fabric wrapped around Thalia’s hands.

“Luke!” she screamed.

I hated being right.

The curtains transformed, changing from fabric into a thick black ooze. It enveloped Thalia’s arms and crept down her spear.

Luke charged, whacking at them with his golf club. To my surprise that actually worked. The curtains temporarily changed back to fabric, and Luke was able to pull Thalia out of its grip.

The curtains quickly recovered, turning back to ooze and trying to reach out to Thalia. Luckily the ooze didn’t seem to be able to leave the curtain rods, and it soon quieted down, giving up on reach its prey.

Thalia shivered in Luke’s arms. Her arms and hands steamed and blistered.

I wanted to rush over and help her. Sing healing incantations, give her ambrosia, SOMETHING.

But I couldn’t. This had already happened. I could do nothing for her now.

Luke, however, COULD. “Hold on!” he shouted, laying her on the ground. “Hold on, Thalia. I got it.”

He fumbled through his backpack, finally pulling out a bottle of nectar. He poured it over Thalia’s hands. The blisters faded.

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least Thalia was okay now.

“You’re going to be fine,” Luke said gently. “Just rest.”

“We- we can’t,” Thalia said shakily as she stood. “If all the windows are like that, and the door is locked-”

“We’ll find another way out,” Luke said.

Luke looked around, trying to find an exit that WOULDN’T try to dissolve them, I assumed.

His eyes locked on some small red lights. Which were paired together. And moving closer. A growl emanated from them.

Thalia made a strangled sound. “Um, Luke...”

She pointed down the second hallway. A second pair of eyes looked back at them.

From both hallways came a strange sound, *clack-clack-clack*.

“The stairs are looking pretty good,” Luke said.

From somewhere above them, up the stairs, a man’s voice called, ”Yes, this way.”

A sharp pain tore through my head. “Nngh,” I groaned.

“Apollo!” Meg and Will cried out.

“I’m okay,” I tried to assure them. “Just a headache.”

Meg nodded, but looked troubled. Will didn’t seem to buy it either, but neither of them said anything. I noticed that they both stayed close to me, though.

“Who are you?” Luke called up.

“Hurry,” the man called again. I felt like I should recognize the voice.

“Hurry,” echoed from the right hallway, from the creature with the red eyes. It was the same voice.

A creature with a human voice... The same voice coming from two different directions...

I moaned as my headache pulsed again.

“Hurry,” the creature on the left called.

Luke grabbed Thalia’s hand, bolting up the stairs with her.

“Luke-”

“Come on!”

“If it’s another trap-”

“No choice!”

They ran like Tartarus himself was after them. They plunged down the hallway, nearly tripping over piles of human bones.

“This way!” the man’s voice called. “Last door on the left. Hurry!”

The creatures echoed the man’s words. “Left! Hurry!”

“We have to help him,” Thalia said determinedly.

“Yeah,” Luke agreed.

They ran down the corridor, towards the last door on the left. Light spilled out from the crack under the closed door.

The door opened as they reached it. The two frantic demigods tripped through the doorway, the door slamming shut behind them.

“Hello,” said the man’s voice, much closer now. “I’m very sorry.”

In front of them stood an old man with gray, spiky hair. He looked resigned and very, very tired. But his clothes were what really caught my attention.

Snakeskin boots. A mottled green-and-brown snakeskin suit.

He was wearing Python’s skin. Where had he gotten Python’s skin?

Because I forced it on him.

The answer came back naturally, as I’d known it all along. I suppose I had, and had simply forgotten it.

But why would I force the snakeskin on him? And why did it feel like a hole had opened up in my stomach?

Breathing hard, I forced myself to concentrate. I was SO close to remembering. I could feel it.

But do I want to?

I clenched my teeth. Whether I WANTED to didn’t matter. I NEEDED to.

Past Thalia spoke. “Um, Luke...”

She pointed to her left.

The left portion of the room was closed off with iron bars, like a prison cell. Inside stood one of the monsters that had just chased Thalia and Luke. It looked like a weird mixture of creatures, with a lion’s body, horses’ hooves (I suppose that explains the clacking sound, I thought distantly) and a head that looked like some amalgam of a horse and a wolf head.

It opened its mouth, revealing two horseshoe-shaped plates of bones instead of teeth. When it snapped its mouth shut, it produced the *clack-clack-clack* sound.

Of course the sound was produced by the more horrifying option. Naturally.

Thalia and Luke stood up, facing the old man.

“Who are you?” Luke demanded. “What’s that thing in the cage?”

The old man grimaced, his expression miserable. He looked like he was about to cry. He opened his mouth, but when he spoke, the voice didn’t come from him, but from the monster in the cage.

“I am Halcyon Green. I’m terribly sorry, but you are in the cage. You’ve been lured here to die.”

The block in my mind dissipated.

My legs buckled, long-repressed memories whirling through my mind. Meg and Will caught me, having made sure to stay close after the last time I nearly fell.

Halcyon Green.

My son.

I’d done something awful to my son.

I hadn’t wanted to, but I had.

I still couldn’t quite sort out what had happened, why I’d repressed my memories of Hal. The block may have dissolved, but I still needed to sort through the memories it was hiding.

Meg and Will gently lowered me to the ground, sitting me down.

“Apollo. Breathe. We’re here. We’re not leaving. Everything’s okay,” Will said soothingly.

I appreciated his reassurance, even though he had no idea what was actually wrong.

The flashback didn’t pause just because I was struggling to remain upright, unfortunately. How inconsiderate!

“Y-you’d better explain,” Luke stammered. “Why - how - what...?”

“I understand your confusion,” said the monster sympathetically, speaking for Hal. “The creature you see her is a leucrota. It has a talent for imitating human voices. That is how it lures its prey.”

Luke looked from Hal to the leucrota and back again. “But the voice is yours? I mean, the dude in the snakeskin suit? I’m hearing what he wants to say?”

“That is correct,” the leucrota sighed. “I am, as you say, the dude in the snakeskin suit. Such is my curse. My name is Halcyon Green, son of Apollo.”

“WHAT?!”

I winced from Meg’s and Will’s yells. Thalia just silently glared at me.

They quieted down in time to hear past Thalia’s own exclamation of surprise, “You’re a demigod? But you’re so - “

“Old?” the leucrota asked. Hal looked over his hands, seemingly contemplating how old and weathered they were. “Yes, I am.”

I understood Thalia’s confusion. It was very, very rare for Greek demigods to achieve senior status. Something else that I hoped to change.

“How long have you been here?” Luke asked.

A long, long time, my memory whispered. Decades.

Hal shrugged listlessly, his face conveying his misery and despair. The utter hopelessness... he’d given up on his situation improving a long, long time ago. The leucrota supplied Hal’s voice. “I have lost count. Decades? Because my father is the god of oracles, I was born with the curse of seeing the future. Apollo warned me to keep quiet. He told me I should never share what I saw because it would anger the gods. But many years go... I simply had to speak. I met a young girl who was destined to die in an accident. I saved her life by telling her the future.”

My blood ran cold. Distantly I heard voices calling me, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move.

Precognition. The ability to see the future. An extremely valuable and important ability. We were currently on a quest to try and restore the Oracles, after all. But it was the ability I most hated to pass on to my offspring. Seers could easily run afoul of the Fates - and run afoul of Zeus by consequence.

I remembered the horror I felt when I first visited Hal when he was a child. I’d desperately warned him to keep silent, whatever happened. Whatever the contest. That he would be punished severely if he dared to utter a word. He’d agreed. He hadn’t said a word. When he managed to reach adulthood (a rare feat for a Greek demigod) without triggering Zeus’s wrath, I had let myself be deluded into thinking that things would be fine.

It had only been a delusion. Before Hal was even born, I’d seen that the Aegis would need to be sealed in a trapped safe and left in his family’s house. I hadn’t seen why, simply that it was necessary. I’d convinced myself not to worry about WHY it was like that. After Hal had spoken - after he’d saved that little girl - it became abundantly, horribly clear.

I forced myself to concentrate on the rest of the exchange. I could fall to pieces afterwards.

“I don’t get it...” Luke looked Hal in the eyes, very pointedly NOT looking at the leucrota. “You did something good. Why would that anger the gods?”

I almost laughed. Good intentions only mattered for so much when one stepped on a god’s domain.

“They don’t like mortals meddling with fate,” the leucrota replied. “My father cursed me. He forced me to wear these clothes, the skin of Python, who once guarded the Oracle of Delphi, as a reminder that I was not an oracle. He took away my voice and locked me in this mansion, my boyhood home. Then the gods set the leucrotae to guard me. Normally, leucrotae only mimic human speech, but these are linked to my thoughts. They speak for me. They keep me alive as bait, to lure other demigods. It was Apollo’s way of reminding me, forever, that my voice would only lead others to their doom.”

I looked around dazedly. Meg and Will had stopped calling my name, instead staring at me in horror. Thalia determinedly did NOT look at me, fixing her gaze on Hal and Luke instead. I was fine with her ignoring my existence. Right now I wanted to ignore my existence.

I would have to explain later, tell my side of the story, and hope that they could forgive me for what I did. For what I had to do.

But for now, this was Hal’s show. He’d been silenced enough. My son would get to say his piece.

Luke looked furious at Hal’s words. “You should fight back. You didn’t deserve this. Break out. Kill the monsters. We’ll help you.”

I gave a bitter smile. Not deserving something didn’t matter much. Otherwise Jason would still be alive.

“He’s right,” past Thalia cut in. “That’s Luke, by the way. I’m Thalia. We’ve fought plenty of monsters. There has to be something we can do, Halcyon.”

Normally I’d say it was hopeless. This was meant to be a trap for demigods, there were measures in place to prevent them from simply being able to fight their way out, otherwise the trap would have been destroyed years ago. Yet Thalia and Luke had survived this. I was not about to underestimate them.

“Call me Hal.” He shook his head, “But you don’t understand. You’re not the first to come here. I’m afraid all the demigods feel there’s hope when they arrive. Sometimes I try to help them. It never works. The windows are guarded by deadly drapes-”

“I noticed,” past Thalia muttered.

“-and the door is heavily enchanted. It will let you in, but not out.”

“We’ll see about that,” Luke muttered determinedly. He pressed his hand against the door behind him, willing it to open, like he did with the front door downstairs. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.

“I told you,” the leucrota speaking for Hal said bitterly, “None of us can leave. Fighting the monsters is hopeless. They can’t be hurt by any metal known to man or god.”

Hal opened his jacket, revealing a dagger on his belt.

A very familiar dagger.

I’d seen it not too long ago, in a different flashback, that one also involving Luke.

“Is- is that...?” I asked hesitantly.

“Yep,” the present Thalia replied.

Oh, the strange and twisted path the Fates had taken.

Will and Meg looked at Thalia and I curiously, but we didn’t elaborate. I had a feeling that the flashback would explain anyway. They usually did.

Hal stabbed the knife at the leucrota. It bounced off the monster’s snout.

“You see?” the monster said as Hal backed away from it.

“So you just give up?” Thalia demanded. “You help the monsters lure us in and wait for them to kill us?”

Hal sheathed the dagger, gently placing it back in its holster. “I’m so sorry, my dear, but I have little choice. I’m trapped here, too. If I don’t cooperate, the monsters let me starve. The monsters could have killed you the moment you entered the house, but they use me to lure you upstairs. They allow me your company for a while. It eases my loneliness. And then... well, the monsters like to eat at sundown. Today, that will be at 7:03.”

I glanced at the nearby clock. It read 10:34 am. A little over eight hours before Luke and Thalia were dinner.

Hal continued. “After you are gone, I- I subsist on whatever rations you carried.”

He looked hungrily at Luke’s backpack. I felt sick.

“You’re as bad as the monsters,” Luke said.

I flinched. Hal might be as bad as the monsters, but what did that make us gods, who had made this happen?

“You’re right to hate me,” the leucrota spoke, self-loathing and resignation coating its words. “But I can’t save you. At sunset, those bars will rise. The monsters will drag you away and kill you. There is no escape.”

Two more leucrotae entered the caged off room, as if underscoring Hal’s words. One of them chomped on some long-dead demigod’s Celestial Bronze breastplate, which seemed like an entirely unnecessary illustration of how screwed Thalia and Luke were.

“As you see,” one of the new leucrotae said, “the monsters are remarkably strong.”

“Send them away,” Thalia asked pleadingly. She was trying to put on a brave face, but I could see how scared she was. I didn’t blame her. If I’d been in her situation, my knees would have been quaking so hard I’d have had trouble remaining upright. “Hal, can you make them leave?”

Hal frowned. One of the leucrotae spoke, “If I do that, we won’t be able to talk.”

The second leucrotae continued his statement, “Besides, any escape strategy you can think of, someone else has already tried.”

The third monster ended the statement, “There is no point in private talks.”

Okay, the leucrotae HAD to be doing this on purpose, trying to reinforce how outmatched the demigods were.

Thalia paced, thinking. I admired her ability to concentrate on anything besides ‘Oh my god, we’re gonna die.’

She turned to Hal, “Do they know what we’re saying? I mean, do they just speak, or do they understand the words?”

The first leucrotae whined, then mimicked Thalia’s voice, “Do they understand the words?”

The second one supplied Hal’s voice, “The creatures are intelligent, the way dogs are intelligent. They comprehend emotions and a few simple phrases. They can lure their prey by crying things like ‘Help!’. But I’m not sure how much human speech they really understand. It doesn’t matter. You can’t fool them.”

“Send them away,” Luke said. “You have a computer. Type what you want to say. If we’re going to die at sunset, I don’t want those things staring at me all day.

Hal turned at the creatures and stared at them silently. They snarled and stalked out of the room.

“Luke,” past Thalia asked anxiously, “do you have a plan?”

“Not yet. But we’d better come up with one by sunset,” he replied grimly.

Luke and Thalia paced, trying to come up with some solution. After a couple minutes of waiting, the present Thalia sighed. “Nothing’s going to happen for at least an hour. Maybe more. It certainly FELT like an eternity,” she grumbled.

This was the perfect opportunity for me to come clean and explain what I’d remembered about Hal.

I half-wished a leucrota would burst in.

Sadly, no such distraction was forthcoming.

I shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, not meeting Will’s or Meg’s eyes as they burned holes in me.

“Why?” Will asked softly. I flinched. “Why did you punish Hal so severely just for saving a girl? A-and why...” he struggled to find the words, his face screwing up as he attempted to keep his composure. His voice came out hoarse and rough, “Why did you give him a punishment that would kill HUNDREDS of innocent people. Kill hundreds of KIDS. I- I-” Will’s voice cracked as tears streamed down his face. “I looked around the ruins for an HOUR, Apollo! Do you know how many children’s skulls I found?! How many never got a CHANCE, because they were caught in this messed-up trap?! Just- just- WHY?!”

Looking at the anger and betrayal in my son’s face, at his clenched fists, I almost lost my voice. Nothing I could say could fix this.

But I could explain it. I owed that much.

“Because Zeus threatened to do something worse. ”

An audible silence fell.

Thalia, Meg, and Will stared at me.

I fought the urge to stare at my shoes and shrink into a tiny ball. I needed to keep myself together. To give them answers.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, collecting myself. “As soon as Hal was born, I knew he was a seer. I also knew that something terrible would happen to him if he ever tried to use his powers. Zeus told me to kill him. That he couldn’t be allowed to live, to interfere with the Fates. I begged for his life. I assured him that Hal would never tell anyone the things he saw. It worked. And as soon as Hal was old enough to understand what I was telling him, I visited and warned him to never reveal his visions.”

“But he DID tell someone. He had to save that girl,” Thalia cut in, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Yeah. And honestly? I can’t blame him. If I’d been in his circumstances, I would’ve done the same thing.”

“But you didn’t have a choice. You HAD to punish him,” Will said.

As I opened my mouth to explain farther, the world blurred.

A new memory?

The scene resolved. We were on Mount Olympus, in the throne room. Only one throne was occupied; my father’s.

But that didn’t mean he was the only one in the room.

My godly self stood, looking up at my father, fear and worry painted on my face.

Zeus glared at him- at me- stonily.

At last he spoke.

“Hal has meddled with the Fates’ design, as I knew he would. He broke his promise.”

“Father, please-”

Zeus steam-rollered on, disinterested in what I had to say. “He must be punished.”

He leaned forwards slightly. I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my neck. I knew what was coming next.

Zeus rumbled, “YOU must punish him.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Wha-?” my godly self asked, looking confused and frightened.

I remembered this now. Zeus had known that I didn’t want to hurt Hal - to hurt my son - so the fact that he was putting me in charge of Hal’s punishment, when he KNEW I’d try to lighten his load as much as possible... well, I knew as soon as he said it that it couldn’t be that simple.

I’d been right.

Zeus leaned slightly forwards, hand teasingly close to his Master Bolt. “Punish him fittingly... or I’ll intervene.”

The world blurred again. This time when it stopped, we were in a forest. My godly self, stood, talking to a preteen girl with long auburn hair and cold silver eyes.

Sister.

My eyes prickled.

I’d seen her in two flashbacks so far, one less than a month ago, but it still felt like a punch in the gut every time she appeared. I desperately hoped I’d get to see her in person soon. To Hades with appearances, I wanted to collapse in her arms and cry and just... BE with her. I hadn’t gone this long without seeing her in millennia.

“I need Python’s skin.”

Artemis looked back at my godly self, frowning. “Apollo, what’s wrong?”

I smiled slightly. Artemis could read me like a book.

“One of my children broke a promise, told the future when he wasn-’t supposed. Zeus’s on the warpath. He... he said that I had to decide a fitting punishment for him, or he’d intervene. I’m hoping that dressing him in Python’s skin, reminding him that he’s NOT an Oracle, taking away his voice, and confining him to his home will be enough. I... I don’t want to hurt him anymore than I have to. Anymore than I need to.”

Quietly, I told my present companions, “It wasn’t enough for Zeus.”

Artemis looked at me for a long moment. Finally she spoke. “I’ll retrieve it. It’ll only take a few hours. Come back later tonight.”

My godly self nodded and turned to walk away. Before he could leave, Artemis called out, “Oh, and brother? COME FIND ME after this is over, or I WILL track you down and drag you over myself.”

A small smile tugged at my divine self’s lips. “How could I refuse the opportunity to flirt with so many of your lovely Hunters.”

Sis rolled her eyes, “Just come over, you goof. I’m NOT letting you brood by yourself.”

Artemis... sister... she meant so much more to me than I’d ever been able to tell her. Sometimes I couldn’t stand her, but she was always there for me when I needed her.

The world blurred again. At this rate, I might get motion sickness from all the scene changes.

When it cleared, we were back in Hal’s house, in his room.

Bars covered the walls, leucrotae behind them, just like in Thalia’s time. Hal stood facing my past self, garbed in snakeskin. But this Hal was younger. He wasn’t worn down. He hadn’t given up.

My godly self spoke in a monotone, as if reading from a script: “You told that girl her future. You meddled with fate, with the domain of the gods. You shall be punished accordingly. You will wear the skin of Python, to remind you that you are NOT an Oracle. Your voice has been stolen, so that you may never again tell others of what you see. You will never leave this house again. And... a-and...”

Here my past self’s composure cracked. “Y-your voice will be repeated by the leucrotae. It will be used as bait to lure demigods’ to their deaths. To re-remind you that your voice will only ever lead others to destruction. You will be forced to watch them die, knowing it’s your fault. Your curse.. your curse will only be ended when the owner of the treasure in this safe,” here I gestured to a huge locked safe, “successfully claims it.”

Hal looked stunned. He moved his mouth, but no words came out. My godly self turned around, whispering hoarsely, “I’m sorry,” before disappearing.

Thalia broke the silence. “Zeus. HE was the reason for all those deaths. He was the one who set up the death trap,” she spat.

She let out a breath. “I’m not surprised. It explains some things I’d been wondering about.”

I looked at her interestedly. “Like what?”

She looked me in the eyes. For the first time in several days, I saw no anger directed at me. “Hal never seemed angry or upset with you, just resigned. Zeus’s goat led me to the mansion, so he knew about it... and knew that the Aegis was here for me to claim. Plus the fact that the Aegis was here in the first place.”

She gave me a small smile. “Also, after getting to know you... this just REALLY didn’t seem like the kind of punishment you’d come up with.”

I teared up slightly. Thalia Grace, thinking well of me? Believing me to be a good enough person to NOT willingly consign hundreds of innocent demigods to a horrible death? (Okay, that was an admittedly low bar, but I’d take it.)

Still...

“I could’ve done more,” I admitted. Abort, mouth, abort! I screamed to myself. She only just now started to stand you again, what are you doing? My mouth didn’t comply.

“I could’ve tried to guide more demigods away from the area. I could’ve appealed to Artemis and Athena for help in persuading Zeus to change his mind. Maybe I wouldn’t have succeeded. Maybe he would’ve even gotten angry with me. But I could’ve TRIED. Instead I buried my head in the sand. I blocked my memories of this as best I could, ignoring the demigods’ screams for help. I did what I’d been doing for millennia; ignoring those I should have helped to protect. Because it was EASIER. Because it was SAFER.”

I looked Meg, Will, and Thalia each in the eyes in turn, and reiterated a promise I’d already made, but needed to be repeated. “I will fight to ensure that this kind of thing NEVER happens again. That my divine family finally starts to protect demigods. ALL demigods, not just our own children. Even if it means protecting them from other gods. This was WRONG. This... this was EVIL. I can’t go back in time to stop it from happening. But I can try to prevent a repeat.”

Light shone in Thalia’s eyes as she studied me. At last, she gave me a small smile. “Luke would have agreed. The Luke I knew, at least. Before... before everything happened.”

I smiled back at her.

The world blurred and melted again (seriously, how many times was this going to happen? This had to be a record!)

When it cleared, we were still in Hal’s room, but back with Thalia and Luke. I checked the time. It was 7:01 pm.

Almost time for the leucrotae to eat.

“You haven’t escaped?!” I hissed to Thalia. She looked at me sadly.

“We escaped after this. We had to wait until...”

ZZZAAP-POP

Everyone except Thalia jumped. Past Thalia sat up grinning, holding a glowing jar of Greek fire.

“Somebody order a magic bomb?” she asked cheekily.

“..until that,” the present Thalia finished.

The clock turned over to 7:03 pm.

It was sunset.

Time for the leucrotae to feed.

Hal held out his hand to Thalia, silently asking for the jar.

“Thalia,” Luke said. “Give Hal the Greek Fire.”

Past Thalia looked back and forth between Hal and Luke, indecision warring on her face. “But-”

“He has to,” Luke ground out, his voice laced with sorrow. “He’s going to help us escape.”

Oh. So this is how Hal died.

Past Thalia realized Hal’s and Luke’s plan at the same time I did. She blanched. “Luke, no.”

The bars continued to slowly rise, the leucrotae clacking their bone plates impatiently.

“There’s no time!” Luke shouted. “Come one!”

Hal took the jar from Thalia, setting his face in a brave smile.

I knew that smile. That need to put on a brave face for the sake of others. I’d needed to use it several times in the past few months.

He nodded at Luke. I didn’t know why, but Luke seemed to get his meaning. Luke slipped a book and Hal’s dagger into his pack. Then Luke pulled Thalia into the closet with him.

“In here!” One of the leucrotae shouted, speaking for Hal. “I’ve got them trapped in the bathroom. Come on, you ugly mutts!”

The leucrotae ran to the bathroom.

Thalia and Luke burst out of the closet, sprinting for the open enclosure. They barely made it before the panel closed, Luke wedging it open with his golf club.

“Go, go, go!” he yelled.

Thalia wriggled through as the golf club began to bend.

Hal’s voice shouted from the bathroom, “You know what this is, you Tartarus scum dogs? This is your last meal!”

On of the leucrota tore away after Luke and Thalia. Luke punched it in the snout, distracting it long enough for the club to snap, closing the panel.

As the two young demigods started crawling through a metal duct, I heard a battle cry from Hal.

His last words.

“For Apollo!”

The mansion exploded into a fireball.

The world blurred forwards. I felt like my mind was blurring too.

For Apollo? Why would he shout that? Why, when my existence had caused him nothing but misery?

And... he’d sacrificed himself to save Thalia and Luke. He could’ve let them die, like so many demigods before them. But he chose to die in their place.

“He was like you.”

I looked up, startle, and found myself looking at Meg.

“Huh?” I asked, not sure whether I had heard right.

“He was like you,” she repeated. “Like with you and the arrow. With Jason. He killed himself to give the others a chance to escape.”

I almost laughed. “Yeah, but he KNEW he was going to die. I don’t think I would’ve had the courage to go through with stabbing myself if I’d REALLY believed I’d die.”

“You would have,” she said with certainty. “I know you.”

I didn’t know MYSELF well enough to say that; yet, I couldn’t bring myself to disbelieve her.

Will cut in. “Hal believed in you. That’s why he shouted that, at the end. He wanted you to see. He wanted you to be proud of him.”

“I am. I am so, so proud of him.” I said hoarsely.

CLANG

I looked around. The world had cleared while we’d been talking. We appeared to be in some sort of warehouse.

Thalia and Luke crept towards the clanging noise. Ahead of them, a piece of metal quivered.

Something was there.

They inched their way over. Luke lifted the sheet of metal. Thalia readied her spear.

A hammer flew out, narrowly missing taking Luke’s head off.

“Woah!” Luke yelped, and grabbed the little girl who had just tried to give him a concussion.

I took a look at her. She looked about seven years old, with blonde hair and intelligent grey eyes.

Annabeth Chase.

She struggled and screamed in Luke’s grip. “No more monsters! Go away!”

“It’s okay!” Luke tried to hold her, attempting to calm her down, but to no avail.

“Thalia!” he shouted. “put your shield away! You're scaring her!”

She collapsed her shield and dropped her spear.

“Hey, little girl,” she said soothingly. “It’s all right. We’re not going to hurt you. I’m Thalia. This is Luke.”

“Monsters!” Annabeth yelled.

“No,” Luke said, still holding onto Annabeth. She wasn’t fighting quite as hard now. “But we know about monsters. We fight them too.”

He continued to hold her until she settled down and accepted the hug.

“You’re like me?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yeah,” Luke confirmed. “We’re... well, it’s hard to explain, but we’re monster fighters. Where’s your family?”

Annabeth’s face screwed up in anger. Her chin quivered. “My family hates me. They don’t want me. I ran away.”

She was so, so young. To be on her own...

My blood froze. If she’d been in the wrong place... if she’d run across the mansion instead of Luke and Thalia...

I shook those thoughts away. I could beat myself up about that more later. I already knew that scenario would be visiting my nightmares.

Thalia knelt in front of Annabeth, putting her eyes level with Annabeth’s. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Annabeth.”

“Nice name,” Luke told her, smiling. “I tell you what, Annabeth. You’re pretty fierce. We could use a fighter like you.”

Her eyes widened. “You could?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said earnestly. I smiled at him. If not for everything that happened, Luke would have made a good dad. I could see why he was made Counselor for the Hermes cabin.

“How’d you like a real monster-slaying weapon?” he asked, pulling out the dagger Hal had given him. “This is Celestial Bronze. Works a lot better than a hammer.”

Annabeth took the dagger and studied it, looking at it in awe.

Luke continued. “Knives are only for the bravest and quickest fighters. They don’t have the reach or power of a sword, but they’re easy to conceal and they can find weak spots in your enemy’s armor. It takes a clever warrior to use a knife. I have a feeling you’re pretty clever.”

“I am clever!” she cried, beaming.

Thalia laughed and ruffled Annabeth’s hair. “We’d better get going, Annabeth. We have a safe house on the James River. We’ll get you some clothes and food.”

Annabeth’s smile wavered for a moment, doubt creeping across her face. “You’re... you’re not going to take me back to my family? Promise?”

My heart broke a little. No child should be this adamant about not returning to the people who are supposed to protect them.

Luke reached out, placing a hand on Annabeth’s shoulder. “You’re part of our family now. And I promise I’m not going to fail you like our families did us. Deal?”

“Deal!”

Past Thalia smiled at Luke approvingly. “Now, come on. We can’t stay put for long!”

“He broke his promise.”

I startled, looking up at the present Thalia. She stared at the three of them, a far away look in her eyes.

I knew. Annabeth had told me, after we’d flashbacked to the final battle with Kronos. That broken promise had cursed the dagger, making it the weapon from the Great Prophecy.

Seeing Luke make that promise, seeing the sincerity on his face... It made me doubt my own capacity to keep the promises I’d made. If even Luke could fall, what chance did I have? With my record of promise-breaking?

Yet I had to try. I HAD to.

I didn’t want to fail my family anymore.

I didn’t want anymore children’s deaths on my conscience.

I had to do better.

Maybe I’d fail.

But that was better than not trying in the first place.

The world blurred together for the final time. The four of us blinked awake. We were still standing in the burnt out husk of the mansion.

I looked down at my feet. There lay Hal’s skeleton, surrounded by snakeskin.

I smiled bitterly. He hadn’t deserved his fate. I hoped that he’d made it to Elysium. He deserved it.

“What HAPPENED?”

I heard a shout. I looked to the side.

There stood a frantic-looking Nico Di Angelo.

Oh. Yeah. We WERE in that flashback for a while.

“It’s... kinda a long story.”

Will started explaining what had transpired to the son of Hades.

Carefully, gently, I removed Python’s skin from my dead son.

We’d give Hal the proper rights soon, once Nico was up to speed.

For now, I had a promise to make.

“Never again,” I told Hal. “Never again.”

#trials of apollo #fanfiction #memories of godly selfishness #apollo #lester papadopoulos #will solace #meg mccaffrey #Thalia grace #Halcyon green #the diary of luke castellan #the trials of apollo

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quietlysomethingalso · 5 years

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What makes Chuck the bad guy?

AKA, some extremely disjointed, overly-long, informal and fever-dream-esque thoughts about Jimmy and Chuck’s relationship. AKA a big rant-y meta post of the sort that I have said in the past that I was too lazy to actually make. And yet here I am. Spoilers for BCS season 4 (and earlier) ahead.

I also, though I know I probably shouldn’t, feel the need to point out that all of this is just my interpretation, and I’m not trying to say my take on things is perfect or (least of all) better than anybody else’s. Just tossing in my two cents is all.

So, first things first, I... don’t actually think Chuck is the “bad guy”, not exactly. That characterization is way too simplistic and I definitely do not think that is meant to be the ultimate takeaway from Jimmy and Chuck’s relationship. There is a scene at the end of season 3 where Kim makes it clear that she is wracked with guilt about the events of the bar hearing. Jimmy has no such scene- instead, not long after this, we get the scene where Jimmy sabotages Chuck with the insurance company. Not as a strategy, but just to lash out, out of spite. In the aftermath of Chuck’s death, as Jimmy and Kim grow more distant, we see Kim’s lingering humanity being juxtaposed with Jimmy’s stubborn refusal to accept any responsibility, or feel any remorse, for what he did to Chuck. It is the spark for Jimmy’s incredible season 4 descent into total, Saul Goodman moral bankruptcy. And I think this is evidence of the fact that Jimmy mishandled his relationship with Chuck.

But with that said, to say that Chuck mishandled his relationship with Jimmy in turn would be an understatement, and I do personally believe that he bears the brunt of the responsibility for the conflict the two of them had.

Chuck is a widely hated character across a lot of the Better Call Saul fandom (and yes, there is definitely a part of me that irrationally hates him, too), so it feels weird to be saying that lately I have been feeling like Jimmy needs someone to go to bat for him against his brother. Recently hollenius has made some incredibly insightful and well-articulated posts describing the nuance in Jimmy and Chuck’s relationship and explaining their reasons for identifying with and sympathizing with Chuck as a character. I’m absolutely not trying to call them out; they made really good points which I am not trying to criticize or “debunk” or anything (or even really directly address). But they did get me thinking more about my own thoughts on Jimmy and Chuck. I have never found Chuck to be more sympathetic than Jimmy- not by a long shot- and I think I just wanted to articulate some of my reasons for that. Partly just to get it down on paper, but also because I think it might help me to better understand my own thoughts on the show.

Better Call Saul is, just as Breaking Bad was, all about how characters change. In BCS, a major part of that is the characters’ attitudes about how people can change, if at all. The final scene of season 4 is so heartbreaking because it is the culmination of something we have seen over and over again in Jimmy and Kim’s dynamic- Kim believes that Jimmy can change, and that he can be a good person, and Jimmy is ignorant to it, and squandering it. (I have said before and I will say again, the tragedy of their relationship is that Jimmy has from Kim what he always wanted from Chuck, and he is just too stubborn to realize it.) We know what Chuck thinks about change, too. He puts it in as plain terms as possible. “People don’t change! You’re Slippin’ Jimmy!” In Chuck’s eyes, Jimmy was bad once, and so that’s all he will ever be, no matter what, full stop.

Is he wrong? Everything Chuck says about Jimmy seems to be true. Jimmy breaks the rules all the time even when he says he will try to change, and you can hardly pin that directly on Chuck (Chuck didn’t make him take a bribe from the Kettlemans, or go around Cliff’s back at D&M, etc. etc.). I believe it’s perfectly reasonable to look at the two of them and determine that Chuck simply knows Jimmy better than Jimmy knows himself, and is right not to trust him. But that’s not how I interpret it. In fact, I believe that Chuck’s beliefs about Jimmy have virtually nothing to do with Jimmy’s behavior in the first place. And I also believe that Chuck’s prophecy for Jimmy is self-fulfilling.

Here’s what I think: I think that Chuck hates Jimmy. Hates him not for his deeds, but hates him as a person. And he uses Jimmy’s troubled past as an excuse to let himself off the hook for it. I am actually extremely confident that this is what is going on with them. Chuck has a deep-seeded resentment of Jimmy. Mistrusting him is a foregone conclusion, and a crutch.

I think it’s really about jealousy. Specifically, Jimmy is good at making people like him, and Chuck is bad at it, and Chuck resents that. I don’t have any interviews to pull from off the cuff but I believe there are quotes from people involved with the show to this effect. It’s also really apparent in the flashbacks we get. Chuck is deeply disturbed by Jimmy’s platonic chemistry with Rebecca. And he resents Jimmy for being the favorite child of their parents. It goes hand in hand with Chuck constantly expressing his frustration that people have affection for Jimmy. This personal struggle that Chuck has with relationships is actually an incredibly sad and moving story that, in a certain way, makes me very sympathetic to him. What I find unacceptable is that he turns around and resents Jimmy for this. He blames Jimmy for being more loved than he is- after all, Jimmy is the “bad” one and he is the “good” one.

To answer the question of what makes Chuck the “bad guy”... well, really, a better question would really be, what do I think Chuck did wrong? In my opinion, it’s not really about what Chuck does to Jimmy, exactly, but how Chuck treats Jimmy. Was Jimmy entitled to a job at HHM just because he passed the bar? I certainly don’t think so. Not even after bringing in the Sandpiper case. (Although it obviously proves Jimmy could potentially be a major asset to the company, that doesn’t oblige Howard or Chuck to actually hire him; even if he were a flawless candidate, which he isn’t, that’s a decision they have the discretion to make.) The reason those decisions of Chuck’s are wrong isn’t because of the decisions themselves but the reasoning behind them. Chuck doesn’t reject Jimmy from HHM just because he doesn’t think Jimmy is qualified for the job (that’s something two brothers with a healthy relationship would be capable of having a rational conversation about, for goodness’s sakes!)- he does it because he actively wants to avoid giving Jimmy a chance to succeed. If Jimmy ever actually did succeed and improve himself, that would invalidate Chuck’s justification for resenting Jimmy. That would take away his crutch. And that is unacceptable to him.

Why did Chuck continue to pretend that he believed in Jimmy? Why did he make Howard take responsibility for him? Why did he allow Jimmy to idolize him and attach to him? I believe it is because Chuck knows on some level that his beliefs about Jimmy are wrong, and that’s what he is trying to hide.

I think the tragedy of Jimmy’s devolution into Saul- what we are meant to take away from his relationship with Chuck- is that Jimmy was, at one point, able to change, and Chuck prevented it. Not that Jimmy is flawless, but that his motivation was genuinely to be a better person. Would Slippin’ Jimmy have ever been concerned about whether it was ethical to take a bribe? Would Saul? Jimmy is ashamed of himself for it. The same way he is ashamed of himself for the billboard stunt to the point where he hides Chuck’s newspaper, just because he knows Chuck will be disappointed in him.

After Jimmy learns the truth about what Chuck thinks of him, he has a complete crisis of confidence and returns to Cicero. As Slippin’ Jimmy, he believed that trying to do the right thing just made you vulnerable (wolves and sheep!). He let his guard down when he tried to change for Chuck, and he got burned because of it. I don’t think Jimmy could ever get over that (again- the tragedy of Kim and Jimmy’s relationship!) Ever since, Jimmy slowly stopped questioning the ethics of his actions, and committed to his “the ends justify the means” mentality. And now he has found security in the old Slippin’ Jimmy mindset. Every man for himself.

Once again, to be clear, I’m not trying to say that I think Jimmy is free from blame, or that Jimmy was right to do what he did to Chuck. Absolutely not. Jimmy is incredibly flawed, and he makes bad decisions constantly, virtually nonstop; it’s one of his defining character traits. But I do believe that Chuck’s mistreatment of him is the reason for Jimmy’s downfall. And in that sense, it does make Chuck the “bad guy” of Better Call Saul- the reason that Jimmy went down the path to becoming Saul, in the end.

There’s that scene near the end of season 2, when Chuck is trying to convince Kim that Jimmy sabotaged him. Kim knows that Chuck is right- she knows that it is exactly the kind of thing that Jimmy would do, and that Chuck knows that, too. But she defends Jimmy anyway. And she lays into Chuck.

“I know he’s not perfect. And I know he cuts corners. But you’re the one who made him this way. He idolizes you. He accepts you. He takes care of you. And all he ever wanted was your love and support. But all you’ve ever done is judge him. You never believed in him. You never wanted him to succeed. And you know what? I feel sorry for him. And I feel sorry for you.”

I think it’s the single most important exchange in the entire show.

#better call saul #jimmy mcgill #chuck mcgill #meta #every time i get going it ends up being way too long and borderline incoherent #sorry friends #just talking to myself here

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romancatholicreflections · 5 years

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10th January >> Daily Reflection/Commentary on Today’s Godpel Reading for Roman Catholics on Thursday after Epiphany or 10th January (Luke 4:14-22a).

After his baptism, Jesus is full of the Spirit of God. He has been commissioned and is now ready to do his Father’s work. The Gospel says he has been in Galilee already for some time and people everywhere are hearing about him as he preaches in synagogues. Today we see him in his home town of Nazareth. And, as he usually did, he went to the synagogue there on a Sabbath. As was the right of any Jew, he read from the Scripture. The passage is from the prophet Isaiah. It is a messianic prophecy which he applies to himself: “This text is being fulfilled today even as you listen.”

And what does it say?

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me.” That is, the Lord has made him King and Lord. He has been made Messiah, which in Hebrew means “the Anointed One”. In Greek it is Christos (. It is a formal announcement of his identity. (Compare Mark’s gospel where Jesus hides his true identity until much later.)

And what is the mission of Jesus as Messiah?

“To bring good news of liberation to the poor.

Freedom to those in captivity.

Sight to those who are blind.

Liberation for the oppressed…”

More than any of the other gospels, Luke emphasises Jesus’ attitude to the economically and socially poor. We see that at Jesus’ first appearance in the world, when it is the poor and outcasts who are the shepherds who come to pay homage to the newborn child. The poor are also linked to the oppressed and afflicted, the forgotten and the neglected. Yet it is they who are most open to the Good News. So much so that the poor are described as “blessed”.

Jesus gives a message of liberation, of freedom for the world. It is important for us to realise that Jesus came to make us truly free. So many Christians abandon their church in order to be free. They find being Christian a stifling experience. Yet, we must insist both by the way we present the message of the Gospel and by the way we live it that, as Christians, we enjoy a particularly high level of freedom. (True freedom does not consist in doing just what we feel like doing; that can be very destructive both of ourselves and others. True freedom is the ability to make the good choice – good for oneself, good for others. Agape-love points us in that direction.)

The words of Isaiah that Jesus uses are to be taken both in their literal and in a fuller sense. It is a message for those who are materially poor, for those who are in prison, those who are blind and those who are oppressed. But all these terms can be understood in a much wider sense. There are all kinds of poverty. In addition to the material kind, there is intellectual, emotional, social poverty. There are all kinds of things which imprison people, including various forms of addictions and compulsions. Blindness is not only a physical disability but there are other forms of blindness due to ignorance, prejudice and a lack of true vision in life. There are many ways a person can experience oppression. Forces which dominate people’s lives like an obsession with materialistic values and consumerism, driving ambition at the expense of others. It is for each one to look into their own lives and see where they need liberation most.

These words of Jesus can be seen as his ‘mission statement’. It is what his whole life will be based on. It is not primarily a religious manifesto. It is a manifesto for the kind of life that every human being is called to follow.

Jesus only began this work. Its continuation and fulfilment depends on our cooperation with him. We are not to hear these words only as receivers but also as a challenge to us. To what extent am I part of this empowering, liberating, eye-opening mission of Jesus for my society and the world?

The people in the synagogue are deeply impressed by the words of Jesus but they are also amazed. “Is not this the son of Joseph?” Very soon they would turn against him. Because they presumed they knew who he was but they did not. They had grown up with him and were too close to him. A matter of familiarity breeding contempt. The same can happen to us when, as happens again and again, we cannot detect the presence of Christ in a person who is very close to us. Not only can we not see Christ in that person, like the people of Nazareth, we often do not want to.

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lawofavgs · 6 years

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The Sacrifices We Make - Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

The next morning, I spent an unreasonable amount of time in my room. Everything I could think of to delay going downstairs, I did at a snail’s pace. I made the bed, with corners that would impress any drill sergeant. I dressed myself with the care of someone who had never worn the traditional 18th century garments. I finger-combed my hair, stroke after stroke, until I could no longer find a tangle. Eventually, I had to face the terrifying concept of going downstairs for breakfast – and the potential conflict awaiting me. I just had to keep telling myself the result of what I had done was worth the cost.

I crept into the kitchen, heart beating rapidly as I looked around for signs of danger. A couple of servants bustled in and out – less than I was used to seeing around Lallybroch. A sigh of relief bubbled out of me as I saw a pot of porridge still simmering. Scoping myself a portion, I turned to scurry back to my room and let out a yelp, nearly dropping my bowl in the process.

“Murtagh!”

The man in question raised two bushy eyebrows in surprise before looking at me speculatively. He took in my appearance and I tried not to shrink under his appraisal.

“Aye, and ye’re the Sassenach witch Brian’s been havering about for years,” he spoke plainly, and I expected no different. It was certainly better than the first first impression we had – him playing rescuer then kidnapper all in the span of 2 minutes. Though I was looked upon as a witch, I felt secure in the knowledge that no one at Lallybroch would have me burnt at the stake.

Save perhaps one inexplicably angry red head.

“Well, not exactly a witch, but yes. The Prophesizing Sassenach. I should take my act on the road. Though, I refuse to sing this time.”

Murtagh looked at me as though I was a loon, and I could tell he was already itching to make a hasty retreat from the kitchen. “I dinna ken what you are, truly. All that matters is that ye’ll bring no harm to the people here.”

“Never. You have my word. I just want to see everyone at Lallybroch safe,” I promised. After searching my face for honestly, he nodded once, appeased by what he saw. Without another word, he grabbed a bannock and marched out of the kitchen.

Right past a glowering Jamie.

I couldn’t understand it. What had I done to enrage him so? Not once in all the time I had known him had he once shown this kind of derision for me. Even before we were married, traveling with the rent party, it was more like gentle impatience when I refused to open up to him or accept the Highland way of life.

Hell, even in France when I tried to stop him from duelling with Randall, his rage was reserved for Black Jack. I only received his hurt and betrayal.

“You may have my father fooled, but I’m no’ so easily swayed by mysterious words and a sweet smile,” he warned before disappearing after his godfather. I was left speechless. Did saving his father and sparing him from Randall really change him that much? I couldn’t see a trace of the sweet Jamie I had known for three years.

One thing hadn’t changed though. Jamie was still a man who would defend his family against any perceived threat, and to him, that’s what I was.

Shoulders slumped, I tried once more to escape to the sanctuary that was my room. Fate seemed to be against me, however, as I saw Jenny darning socks in the sitting room.

“Dinna fash yerself over my brother. He has his own matters to deal with,” she informed me with a smile as she continued her work.

“Yes, I gathered that. He was never so....”

“Angry as a stung horse and stubborn as an ox?” Jenny finished for me. I couldn’t help the wry laugh that escaped me.

“The stubbornness I expected. That is a Fraser trait, after all.” At this she smirked and offered no argument. “The anger, however, that one is new. I thought with the information I gave your father and the moments he averted, Jamie would have had an easier life.”

“Well, I dinna ken exactly how things were supposed to go originally – Da was always vague about the details – but life has no’ exactly been easy for Jamie since that prophecy of yers. I get his frustrations. Father would barely let me cross the doorway without an escort, and always sent me to the priest hole when there were sightings of Redcoats. But for Jamie, it was worse. The lad fostered at Leoch and studied at a university in France. He was ready to be a man upon returning to Lallybroch but was instead treated as if he were a boy. Hiding from the English and never going to Broch Mordha without Father or Murtagh. He thought he would be marrit with bairns by now, preparing to be Laird.”

I started at both revelations: that Jamie had led such a sheltered life these past 6 years, and that he was still unmarried despite his status (and many other positive traits).

“I didn’t…I didn’t realize your father would go to those extremes. I thought he would just prevent the one incident I told him about, prepare for the failed uprising, and then life would go on as normal,” I stuttered, setting my now-cold porridge on a table and dropping onto the settee.

“Oh aye, it was like father changed overnight. We could see the difference in him after he brought you back to the fairy hill, but after whatever happened or didn’t happen that October, he became paranoid. His father always had an interest in the supernatural, but Da held no stock in seers or fairies or the like. It was bad enough that people called him a selkie. Once he believed what you told him to be true, it was like he feared fate would come to rebalance the scales.”

“Do you believe me? That I’m from the future?” My voice came out small, and I was surprised at how badly I needed her to say yes.

She regarded me for a moment, weighed the thoughts in her mind and took measurement of them. Finally she said, “I do, aye. I dinna ken what you are exactly, or how it works, but I ken you had knowledge of events that would come to pass and you shared that information with my father. Was it really because you wanted to help? You had no ulterior motives?”

“I swear to you,” I breathed out, “I only meant to save your family from pain.”

Jenny graced me with that typical Fraser nod of acquiescent, confident in her assessment of me, before she returned to the task in her hands. As I rose to leave, I heard her add, “Be patient with Jamie. He’s thick-heided but he’s kind. Once he figures out for himself that you mean no ill will, he’ll no’ treat you so rudely.”

I certainly hoped she was right.

After half-heartedly prodding at the congealed porridge I had brought up to my room, I managed to finish every last bite – the thought of the upcoming famine never far from my mind – and meandered out to the courtyard. The promise of summer was slowly starting to fill the air, and I considered asking Brian if I could tend to some of the gardens. If I were to take up the post of healer for Lallybroch and Broch Mordha, I would need to build up supplies and....

“What are you doing poking about?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin upon hearing Jamie’s near-accusing question. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Must you sneak up on people like that?”

Despite his stormy demeanor, he managed a smirk – bloody bastard was pleased with himself. “Aye, weel, if you arena doing anything wrong, you wouldna be so quick to startle.”

“I’ll have you know I was just taking stock of what the gardens need,” I informed him as I crossed my arms defensively. “There are plenty of wild herbs growing on the property that can be transferred and tended to here.”

“Ye ken what grows on the property, do ye?”

I sighed, still coming to terms with his attitude paired with such a familiar voice and face. It was a constant battle to remind myself that this wasn’t my Jamie. This Jamie cast a suspicious eye on me, wary of my intent and annoyed at the shadow I left over his transition into adulthood. I knew he blamed me for the change in his father’s personality, and despite the reason for it, it was hard for him to gain perspective.

It would be easy to think him ungrateful, given the changes made and the trials and tribulations avoided, but to him those events would simply be abstract concepts. How could one wrap their mind around terrible things that would never come to pass? The only thing Jamie knew was the sudden lack of freedom and a superstitious father. Besides, according to Jenny, Brian never went into detail about the horrors that would befall their family.

Still, it was difficult to be at odds with Jamie, any version of Jamie. I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t flutter when Jenny mentioned he was unmarried. Visions quickly flashed through my mind, of the two of us together and happy and whole, with our child on the way.

But how could that dream ever be reality when Jamie held such a disdain for me? And how do you tell a man that even though you’ve never made love, you’re carrying his child? It was a concept I could barely straighten out in my mind, and I was living it. I started to wonder if coming back to Lallybroch, if staying here, was the right choice. Once again, I had to remind myself that this wasn’t about me; every decision I made would have to be for the baby. In the end, I knew that no matter where our paths led – together or separate – I needed to end this battle.

“All right, that’s it. You and I are going to discuss this like adults. No more sneering or snide remarks. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’m willing to answer them,” I informed him, squaring my shoulders and preparing for conflict.

Jamie had the good sense to look at least a little chastised but shook his head. “I’ll no’ get into a stramash wi’ you in the dooryard of my home.”

“Then where would you like to go? The barn? The mill wheel? The other side of the broch?” I could hear the snippiness in my tone but I couldn’t help it. Even if Jamie was acting out over something he didn’t understand, he was still being an arse.

Surprisingly, Jamie turned with a huff and nodded towards the barn. Maybe I had expected him to refuse my suggestion of a tête-à-tête and continue on stubbornly with his bitter behaviour. It was hard to predict his thoughts and his future choices the way I once used to. Where once stood a man forced to grow up quickly, now was a lad whose protected life may have bred an immaturity I never saw in him.

When we stepped inside the barn, I held my arms out in a gesture of invitation for his interrogation. “Whatever you want to know; ask. I will try to answer as best and as honestly as I can. Someone once told me about having room for secrets but not for lies. You have my word that everything I tell you will be the truth, but I reserve the right to hold onto some secrets of my life.”

Jamie sized me up, taking pause to formulate a line of questioning – or perhaps a plan of attack. Steeling himself in a gesture I had seen before, he started, “Are you a witch?”

Suddenly I was seated under a giant tree that blocked out the sun, my dress torn and my back stinging from being strapped. Instead of a suspicious tone, I heard one of concern. I saw blue eyes that pleaded for truth, regardless of what that truth might be. I saw a man who was not looking to condemn me, but protect me.

“I’m not a witch,” I answered, the same way as the first time. “In truth, I don’t know what I am. You’ve heard of “The Woman of Balnain”? That seems like the closest explanation, though not entirely the same. The only thing I do know is when I touch the stones atop Craigh Na Dun, I travel through time. I don’t know the rhyme or reason behind when I end up. I’ve also met one other woman with the…ability.”

Geillis Duncan. Would she have met the same fate in this altered timeline? I couldn’t think of a reason why it would have been avoided. The only difference would be her going through the trial alone.

“What purpose did you have, coming here and warning my father of dark days?” he asked as he lowered himself onto a rickety old stool. Even seated, he was an imposing figure. I pondered his question, piecing out how to answer truthfully without revealing facts about the life we would have led together without my interference.

“At first, I didn’t know what year I was in. With no family to go to, I figured here would be the safest. I knew the people to be kind and trustworthy. When I met your father, I decided to warn him.” As I explained my rationale, I wondered if that was the reason I ended up in 1740. My mind and my heart had been so focused on saving Brian – wee Brian, not yet born, perhaps the stones saw fit to send me to a time where I could save his namesake instead. “How much did your father tell you about my warning?”

“I thought I was the one asking questions,” Jamie remarked with a half-smile. I must have been so starved for positive affection from him, because that small joke paired with the slight upturn of his lips had me glowing. I watched Jamie’s brow furrow as he recalled Brian’s words from years past. “All he said was a White Lady had warned him of life-altering events caused by the British army, and that the scenario you spoke to him about came to pass. He never said what was to happen, or what proof he had that you were anything but a loon. All I ken was how fearful he became every time he heard tell of Redcoats near our lands. I believe if he could have locked Jenny and I up in a tower, he would have.”

Given what Jenny told me, I knew Brian had withheld what I told him, but I didn’t realize to what extent. I was curious as to why he chose not to tell his children, even if it meant bearing their resentment or confusion. And though it may not have been my place, I truly felt Jamie deserved to know the full story. And so I told him, in general statements that were still more detailed than the information he had, about what had been prevented. I watched the colour drain from his face as I went on, confirming to him why Brian had developed such an aversion to the English.

“Please don’t be angry with your father. I’m sure he had his reasons for not telling you the whole story.”

Jamie’s gaze remained fixed on a far wall – the thousand yard stare I had seen from him many times before. I could tell his mind was working hard, turning over what I had said and moments from the past six years that were taking on a new meaning to him. Finally he looked at me, seeing right to my very soul, before standing and walking past me towards the door.

Before he could cross the threshold, he stopped and turned back to me. “I still don’t understand this, but if what you say is the truth, then I thank ye. Not just for me, but for my family and our tenants. For saving my father’s life. And…I’m sorry. I blamed you for things that werena yer doing, painted ye in a false light, and I treated ye poorly.”

With a stately bow, Jamie took his leave. It was all I could do to remain on my feet and get my emotions under control enough to head back to the house.

#outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #claire x jamie #jamie x claire #outlander #the sacrifices we make #fanfic

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pamphletstoinspire · 6 years

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Understanding The Bible - A Practical Guide To Each Book In The Bible - Part 33

Written by: PETER KREEFT

TEN

________

How a Christian Is Different: First Corinthians

Today, especially in America, Catholics, like everyone else (except Orthodox Jews and Fundamentalists), want to be “accepted”. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians is especially relevant to such people. Though it talks about dozens of separate issues, the most unifying theme is that Christians must be different.

Corinth was the largest, most cosmopolitan, and most decadent city in Greece. Two-thirds of its seven hundred thousand citizens were slaves. It was a major port and hub of commerce. Much of the commerce was in human flesh. “To act like a Corinthian” was an ancient saying meaning debauchery, especially prostitution. Men went to Corinth to take a moral holiday.

The city was also full of idolatry, which centered around Aphrodite, the goddess of sex. Her temple, atop an eighteen-hundred-foot promontory, had a thousand temple prostitutes. Paul had come here in the years A.D. 51 and 52 to evangelize. Now four or five years later, he writes this letter to address some of the problems of this new, struggling Church surrounded by an “advanced” world just like ours: a world in “advanced” stages of decay.

His main point is that Christians are called out of paganism to a radically distinctive lifestyle. For Christ is the Lord of every aspect of life. Paul is utterly Christocentric; in 1 Corinthians 1:30 he identifies four great abstract ideals (wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption) with Christ Himself. In 1 Corinthians 2:2 he says that he “decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ”. Any addition to Him would be a subtraction.

America is strikingly similar to Corinth. According to polls, most Catholics consider themselves “Americans who happen to be Catholics”, rather than “Catholics who happen to be Americans”. Two of the words they dislike the most are “authority” (or “lordship”) and “obedience”. Yet these are precisely what Paul calls for.

Christ always sought out the most needy, and His Church has always followed His lead. Christianity naturally flows to the lowest places, like water. Corinth was the world’s lowest place, the spiritual gutter. Yet the Corinthians thought of themselves as high, not low—like the high and airy temple of Aphrodite. For one thing, they were rich due to trade and prostitution. For another, they were well educated. Though they did not produce any philosophers, many philosophers from Athens taught there. The most prominent philosophical school at the time was probably Scepticism. The last thing any of them would believe was a man rising from the dead.

Into this atmosphere heavy with lust, greed, and pride, Paul had introduced the clear light of Jesus when he first visited (2:1-5). And he now continues the same strategy: not compromising, not pandering, not patronizing, but calling for the hard way, the distinctive way of living the life of Christ in a Christless world.

This is not a systematically ordered letter, like Romans. It moves from topic to topic. There are many minor topics, but the four major ones are (1) sectarianism, (2) faith and reason—Christianity and philosophy, (3) sex and love, and (4) the resurrection from the dead—both Christ’s and ours. Other topics include incest, pagan lawyers, eating food offered to idols, prostitution, virginity, marriage, divorce, the Eucharist, order in worship, speaking in tongues, and other spiritual gifts.

The first two of these major points are treated together since simple faith unites while pride in reason divides. Paul is utterly scandalized at the growing factionalism in the Corinthian church (1:10-13). Can anyone seriously wonder which of the many “denominations” he would approve today?

Paul sees the source of division as the proud claim to possess superior “wisdom” and not submitting to Christ as God’s Wisdom. The wonderful irony and paradox of God’s folly being wiser than human wisdom (1:18-3:23) is the definitive passage for philosophers or theologians with “original” minds who tend to resist Christocentrism and want to “advance” in different and schismatic directions.

If all Christians had kept this passage uppermost in their minds for the last two thousand years, I believe that the tragedies of 1054 and 1517 and the hundreds of tears in the seamless garment of the Church since then could never have happened. If the Church ever becomes visibly one again, this passage will be the foundation for unity. Yet she always remains substantially and invisibly one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic.

On the number one topic in modern morality, sex and love, Paul does three things. First, he condemns sexual immorality in chapters 5 and 6, as well as the Corinthians’ lax attitudes that accepted it. Instead of justifying incest, they should excommunicate the offender. Instead of justifying prostitution by the slogan “all things are lawful” (6:12), they should realize that in doing so a Christian, as a member of Christ’s Body, makes Christ fornicate with a prostitute (6:15)!

Second, Paul gives a positive alternative picture of Christian marriage in chapter 7. Here he clearly distinguishes God’s commands from his own opinion, which is to stay single. I think there is a wonderful divine humor in God revealing some deep and perennial principles of marriage through a celibate who confesses that he personally does not recommend it! I also see a wry divine humor in including in Scripture (7:6-12) a clear distinction between what is divine revelation and what is not. The distinction between divine revelation and human opinion is a matter of divine revelation, not human opinion!

Third, Paul writes the most famous passage about love ever written, chapter 13. This is the essential alternative to pagan lust for both married and unmarried. It is also a call to a clear and distinctive lifestyle and Christian witness. After all, Christ had prophesied that the world would be able to distinguish Christians from others by the special kind of love they had (Jn 13:35), not by having the same kind of love as the world had.

First Corinthians 13 is often read at weddings because it is the best definition of love ever written. This love (agape) is not a feeling or desire (eros) but a life; it is as Dostoyevsky put it, “love in action” rather than “love in dreams.”

The first paragraph (13:1-3) shows the infinite value of love by contrasting it with other things of great value: speaking in tongues, prophecy, knowledge, faith, and even the works of love without the soul of love.

The second paragraph distinguishes this love from all others by describing it in fifteen characteristics (vv. 4-7). Love is the skeleton key that unlocks all these doors. For instance, it is impossible to be patient with difficult people without love, but love brings patience with it.

Finally, the last paragraph shows the eternal destiny of love. Everything else, including all the things the Corinthians set their hearts and lives on, is doomed to die. Even faith and hope and earthly wisdom are not needed after death. But love is. When we love now, we plant seeds for eternity.

Chapter 13 is sandwiched between two chapters on spiritual gifts, especially the gift of tongues, and their use in worship. Paul shows moderation and wisdom in avoiding both the extremes of naive enthusiasm and suspicion, and in subordinating everything, even supernatural gifts, to love. He himself speaks in tongues and wants everyone to (14:5, 18), but the issue is much less important for Paul than most charismatics and their critics think.

Next to chapter 13, chapter 15 is the most famous and most important. It is the primary text in Scripture on the resurrection of the body. None of the Greek philosophers in Corinth believed in bodily resurrection, not because they did not believe in miracles, but because they did not believe the body was good and created by God. Their sexual materialism and their philosophical spiritualism went hand in hand. Paul revealed instead that the body is more real and good and important than they thought. It is a holy thing, the Spirit’s temple now (6:19) and the seed of something destined to live with God eternally, not a mere animal organism seeking sexual pleasure as its greatest good.

Plato had called the body “the soul’s tomb”. Paul tells the Corinthians, who were probably influenced by this philosophy, that to deny or ignore Christ’s bodily Resurrection is to abandon the whole faith. Without the Resurrection, “our preaching is in vain, and your faith is in vain” (15:14), “you are still in your sins” (15:17), and “if for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all men most to be pitied” (15:19).

And this Resurrection is no mere symbol, no merely subjective and spiritual “resurrection of Easter faith”, or some such silly subterfuge. The Greek words for “the resurrection of the body” are anastasis nekron, which means “the sitting-up of the corpse”! Denial of the literal Resurrection, according to the Word of God, is denial of Christ, denial of the faith.

After demonstrating its existence (15:12-34), Paul gives some hints about its nature (15:35-58) through natural analogies. This body is the seed of another one. This body is as different from the resurrection body as a planet differs from a star. Paul’s contrast between a “physical body” and a “spiritual body” does not mean that the post-resurrection body will not be tangible. Christ’s was and is. It means that the source of this physical body is physis, nature, the dust we return to, while the source of our resurrection body is the Spirit of God, who will raise us as He raised Christ.

Paul concludes the great chapter with words that sound like trumpets (indeed, that is why Handel accompanied them with a trumpet in his “Messiah”). He concludes by sticking his tongue out at death, taunting it: “O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?” Death is now a stingless bee for us because its stinger is in the body of Christ crucified. He took the stinger of Hell out of the bee of death for us.

The central theme in each of the specific topics Paul deals with (probably from questions in a letter the Corinthians had written to him) is the theme of Christian distinctiveness. This is seen most strikingly in chapter 6, where Paul is scandalized that Christians sue other Christians before pagan lawyers and judges. No one today even blinks at that practice, for we have so radically lost that sense of distinctiveness.

But why would a cat go before a dog to adjudicate a dispute with another cat? The difference between a Christian and a non-Christian is like the difference between a cat and a dog. It is not, for Paul, merely a difference between two beliefs, but a difference between two beings, two species.

I continually ask my theology and philosophy classes the simple question, “According to the New Testament, what is a Christian?” They always answer it not according to the New Testament but according to something else. For they always say what a Christian thinks, or believes, or feels, or does, or likes, or desires, but not what a Christian is. Paul knew what a Christian is: a Christian is a little Christ, a member of Christ, a cell in Christ’s body.

Because of this radical transformation of our very “I”, everything in our lives is transformed. As he was to put it in his second letter to these Corinthians (5:17), “If any one is in Christ, he is a new creation.” In our desperate, bored search for novelties and “new theologies”, we can never be more radically new than to simply rest on “the Church’s one foundation — Jesus Christ her Lord”.

#understanding the bible

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terranoctis · 3 years

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epic iv

Here follows spoilers, lingering in the dark with another list of stories I’ve consumed.

1. The Song Of Achilles by Madeleine Miller

I’ve heard a spectrum of comments about this story for years, most things good. I studied Latin for three years in high school, so I’ve translated more parts of the Iliad than I wanted to as a teenager. But now that years have passed, I have a fondness for classical texts like the Iliad that I couldn’t have had then when it was my homework. Though I’ve forgotten much of my Latin nowadays, I do remember the story of Aeneas somewhat--and by connection, fragments of Achilles’ story. The ending of this story did not come as a surprise to me, because it’s a story most will know if they have some familiarity with classical Latin literature. Even so, the novel is still a great read when one knows the ending. If anything, there’s a kind of beauty in knowing the end and taking in the views along the way.

Though there are prophecies in the original texts, like one that I believe where it was foretold Achilles would die at Troy, this story specifically uses the prophecies to foreshadow the kind of ending we already know will come. From Patroclus being promised to fight for Helen to Achilles being the fated warrior and dying after Hector...We’re privy to these storms coming down the road, but we’re also living in this moment of Patroclus seeing the most humane sides of Achilles. Achilles, by all means, is a flawed human, but that’s what makes this story so much more compelling. His pride is what sets most of the ending arc in motion, as it is his grief that brings the story to its penultimate end. It’s a Greek tragedy, and a story of love between two men who are seen as anything as but in many interpretations of their relationship.

And really, what’s the most refreshing is that it’s written from Patroclus’ perspective. He is a character who doesn’t have a voice as much in these stories, as a man at Achilles’ side. It’s also, if one might add, a good friends to lovers story (*winks terribly*). It is though, a stronger focus on the relationship between the two than anything else. Though Miller still does a good job at illustrating the world around the pair, the story is hyper-focused on the two.

I personally don’t think I enjoyed the story as much as it was lauded (I’ve been seeing rave reviews for years), but I very much still understand why it was lauded and liked the novel. I would like to read Miller’s other story Circe now because I think her way of writing would make the story of a witch that much more compelling. I think I may have to also re-read the Iliad, only if because I’m curious to see how it would make think about this story if I remembered more of the classical text. Even though I have some criticisms, it boils down to the fact that I enjoyed this novel. You cannot deny the beauty of the writing.

2. A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik

It’s hard to put my feelings on this novel into sensible terms. I was trying to make sense of whether I actually liked the book or not, and it came down to the fact that I did even though it felt like the book was trying very hard to be something more substantive than it was. That isn’t to say it’s not a good book, or that it is a great book. It is a fun read, for what it is. I believe it is a fun book, much more so than Novik’s other books I’ve read that kind of follow a relatively more serious plot in worlds she seems to have stronger footing in. It’s clear to me and one that should be noted in case there are comparisons--this novel seems markedly intended to be marketed towards a younger age group than Uprooted and Spinning Silver. This world also takes place on Earth, unlike previous novels, so there are significantly more modern references and writing that evokes our modern world. In turn, I think it opens up to more criticisms because it will be comparable to our society, which in turns up some issues I’ll mention further in this post. If anything, I feel slightly terrible that there will be comparisons made regardless of the author’s intent to Harry Potter for any who have read that series. J.K. Rowling doesn’t have the sole authorship of magical schools in fiction, but the comparison is there because it’s the most prominent ones in most readers’ minds.

Before I proceed further, there have been controversies over Novik’s writing of race in this novel. I did not take issue personally, as an Asian American, with depictions of Asians in this novel. That being said, I am not of the specific descent with which it could be taken as offensive, and so in reading the text, my personal stake in the depiction would have lessened any perceived offense in it. Take my opinion with a grain of salt, and please understand that I do empathize with those who are offended. I understand why people may take issues with Yi Liu as a name, and I particularly understand why descriptions of hair associated with race (i.e., locs, El’s hair as someone of Indian descent) being written in terms of being “dirty,” may particularly be offensive. Though the latter was related to how the scholomance, or the school, has maleficara that will attack any students and hair was a bad idea in the school in general because it’s an easy way for them to get attacked--I can understand why even that connotation (that I don’t think Novik ever intended) could be extremely problematic. It’s not okay the loc description was connotated that way, if you reread that section, and it’s something I hope she learns in future books. That being said, I do think much of the criticism is unfair. Novik is not tone-deaf as I’ve read in other writers. She is working to describe a more diverse world even if it’s not the strongest way to do so. I think it should be noted the bullies in her story are establishment, rich kids. The loc description is the worst of her offenses, but it’s something a writer is learning and reprimanded for (not hated on, as I’ve been seeing in some reviews). Novik works to write a diverse world, which is something markedly more than what many white writers in magical schools have done--and that effort is something that should be commended. I mentioned earlier Rowling. Simply compare the student body of Novik’s world to Rowling’s Hogwarts to see what I mean about diversity. I sincerely hope she takes the constructive criticisms of this novel to improve in the next one, because I sincerely think she can be better and will be.

The story definitely focuses on the grim side of magic, with larger-than-life stakes when it comes to survival and becoming accomplished students. Even the most minute details like eating lunch are filled with danger, to which all these students have acclimated to. Nonetheless, as a story led with teenage protagonists, there’s very much a sense of cliques and popularity that correlate directly to their survival and futures.

It’s interesting that El’s foil is everyone’s favorite hero and her new best himbo friend, Orion Lake. (It also made me giggle, because one of my characters is named Orion, and he’s the complete opposite of the Orion in this book) Orion is immediately likable to everyone, but he’s being used while El is disliked and refuses to be used by anyone. They’ve both never been quite treated as a normal person or friend by anyone, so their unlikely friendship is the core of this story. Quite frankly, the story shines the most when these two are working together to do whatever they need to. A review I read remarked upon their relationship as the amazing friendship of a himbo and his intelligent best friend, and it made me laugh because it’s so true and it’s fun to read.

El’s nature as someone shunned makes her want to shun everyone else and build alliances. It’s nice, for one, that she builds an alliance of other anti-establishment people at the costing of shunning establishment people, depending on how you look at it. It assumes though that all establishment people are bad, and maybe it’s my hesitance on that which makes me hesitant on liking El. Nonetheless, that’s kind of the joy of a flawed character. She’s allowed to make mistakes and reassess them as her experiences go on. We see that in her gradual interactions with Clara, and that’s a credit to the writing, no matter how minimal those interactions are so far.

Overall, I do think the book is a fun read. The execution of the writing, in El’s attitude at times to the glaring problems of depiction mentioned earlier, are the flaws in this story. Nonetheless, the dialogue and the interactions between these kids still make it a fun ride. It’s not exactly my favorite book on magic, but an enjoyable one nonetheless.

3. The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson

Where do I even start with this one? I think I was drawn from the very first chapter. It’s a refreshing and beautifully-woven take on the multi-verse, in ways that I think I would love to see a film or TV adaptation on this. A multi-verse is a subject matter that interests me, but it’s also the way this novel was written that truly sells it for me. This might be one of my favorite novels I’ve read in awhile. It’s not a perfect novel (what novel is?), but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

The story is not only a depiction of multi-verses, but also a discussion on how the conditions of your environment can dictate much of who you become. It opens in an interesting way, showing that the only people who can become traversers, or travelers through multi-verses, are those who are dead in that world. That is why Cara is a traverser, because she’s dead on almost every world they’ve discovered. She only survived by a different choice or a different means of life on this one, when the conditions of how she was raised with a poor mother, generally killed her on most worlds. The multi-verse in this story is not only just for the exploration side of things, but also a commentary on classism and social constructs. It’s what makes this story stand out. All good science fiction novels for me are a commentary on something very human, and in this case, it’s the result of how little choices or even little factors can factor in someone surviving or not. Cara’s a survivor, and there are twists that are introduced throughout the story that continually took me off-guard, when generally, I can sort of guess some twists for most stories I read nowadays. It’s a testament to how well-written the story is from Cara’s POV.

At first, I felt the last third of the novel was not as strong as the first two-thirds, but the more I think about it from a thematic standpoint, the more I do like it and the ending, at least in terms of Cara and Dell. I’m not certain I enjoy the ambiguity of what happens with Adam Brosch, our main antagonist, and his brother. That being said, I sort of understand where the author wanted to go with this. We only have one world to live with sometimes, so might as well live the best one with the brother we do have and the world we can control. At least, that’s one take on it. One doesn’t forget the atrocities of such men’s crimes, however.

The longing between Cara and Dell is quite beautiful as well. I do feel the writer put them in at times with a romantic connection that was a glowing bright light at all times, which I have my issues with, but some loves can be like that and I respect that. It doesn’t always read the best though, but for the purposes of this novel, I think it suffices and weaves in beautifully when tied to traversers. There’s a kind of haunting way in which Cara understands that on every world, she’s afraid of her abusive ex and his brother (who turns out to be her boss in this main world). There’s an even more beautiful meaning in Cara thinking that in every world, she's drawn to Dell. It takes on a different mean when you think about who you are in multiple, divergent universes and think that perhaps there is one constant factor to it with someone you love. I think it’s telling that the author ended on that note, about a couple who probably wouldn’t have worked out on any other universe because the space between them was so vast. But that it existed in just one world, with them, meant more than anything and that it was precious. In the end, the story closes to multiple worlds and talks lovingly about the possibility and hope in this one. It closes with Cara’s vision of herself with Dell, despite everything that has happened and may happen to her--and that this one out of all the infinite worlds means significantly more to her.

I also wanted to note that the author’s dedication at the end of the novel, right after the words that Cara narrates in her vision of her future with Dell, is touching. I don’t mean to read into the author’s intent, but I can’t help but feel in a good way that the story sort of takes on another meaning with that dedication. I admire that kind of affection, that I can only imagine to an extent she wrote for someone else she left unnamed. I guess, after all, I do want love stories in my fantasy and science fiction novels. I’m not surprised exactly.

When it comes down to it, I’m also a ruthless romantic at times. This is the kind of story that makes me want to write more and more.

#personal #.chrysalis.#reading and ramblings

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