Tumgik
#i read somewhere about a saint who called the devil the Enemy in his writings and i liked that so there it is
kibu-me · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Enemy from the other side of the room.
6K notes · View notes
xbaepsae · 4 years
Text
the ebb and flow | part one
“But you do know that it’s possible for a child of wisdom and a child of the sea to be amicable. Maybe even be more than that. However, at the end of the day, it’s really just because of you and Jeongguk.”
[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]
genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au
word count: 2.2k
rating: pg-13
warnings: language, character tension lol
a/n: ahhh. today’s our baby bun’s birthday + dynamite is number one on billboard, so you know i had to deliver something! for a while now, i’ve wanted to start a drabble series (especially since i always feel pressured to write longer 10k+ fics). also, i love pjo so, so much. this idea has been on my mind for a while now, so i really hope you all enjoy! i can’t wait for you guys to read the next parts :) xoxo
→ series masterlist!
Tumblr media
the fifth summer - in which you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place
Perhaps, challenging Cabin Three to an impromptu capture the flag game had been a bad idea from the start. However, you fully blame their head counselor for egging you on in the first place.
If Jeon Jeongguk would just learn to keep his damn mouth shut, maybe you wouldn’t have felt the need to defend yourself. The only reason you challenged Poseidon’s cabin in the first place was because he called your battle strategy weak. Thinking about it now, you honestly don’t recall how the conversation even got to that subject—after all, you and Jeongguk argued a lot most days—but you knew he was wrong.
How could you—a daughter of Athena—have weak battle strategy? The idea was absolutely absurd. Your mother was the goddess of wisdom and battle strategy; and as a child who literally sprung forth from her brain, you inherited every drop of her skills.
While you admit that the son of Poseidon is probably one of the more capable demigods here—though you’ll never dare say it to his face—he’s also arrogant, and arrogance never wins in a game of pure strategy. Thus, in the five summers you both have attended Camp Half-Blood, you’ve won more capture the flag games than Jeongguk has. Maybe he forgot that little fact.
“Are you sure you want to lose again, Jeon?” you asked him, a smirk stretched across your lips.
“I think you’ll be the one losing today, miss goody-two-shoes.”
Unfortunately, neither of you managed a victory this time because a certain someone from Apollo’s cabin spilled the beans to Chiron. You don’t even know how Jung Hoseok found out about the game, probably from one of those sneaky Hermes kids, but you were going to—
“Y/n, I expected better from you.”
You freeze up at the disappointed look on Chiron’s face. Although your pride is wounded, you know he’s right—you’ve always been a top-notch camper, which is why you’re head counselor of your cabin. However, when Jeongguk gets involved, you just can’t seem to think clearly. Beside you, you hear the devil himself break into laughter. He attempts to hide it as a cough, but Chiron doesn’t buy it and shoots him a glare.
“Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook either, Jeongguk.” The boy sobers up. “You both know better.”
“Sorry, Chiron,” the apology simultaneously slips past both your lips.
The centaur sighs. “It was quite reckless to get both your cabins involved like that. It’s only the first full week of summer, and things are already this bad?”
You know he’s referring to the first time you and Jeongguk butted heads together. It was your second summer, and Jeongguk accidentally shot a canon of water in your face while you were practicing your archery. Your natural reaction was to shoot an arrow back at him. Obviously, you both got a mouthful from Mr. D afterwards.
Since then, as each summer’s gone by, it’s been little things—like tripping each other, spilling food on each other, causing the other to lose at games. This impromptu capture the flag is probably the worst thing you’ve both decided to do.
“I promise it won’t happen again,” you speak up, biting the inside of your cheek.
“Can you?” Chiron lifts a brow.
Suddenly, Jeongguk nods. “Yeah, I sure can. Because it was y/n’s idea in the first place—”
“Only because you made me do it!” you interrupt, facing him now. “It’s always you and your cocky attitude that gets us in trouble.”
“Well, what about your pride, huh? You’re too damn prideful to admit that you. Can. Be. Wrong,” he spats. “Have you thought about that?”
You are riled up; you can feel your body shaking. “I’m never wrong, Jeon Jeongguk.”
“I think that’s enough, you two.”
Taking a step back, you release a deep exhale and turn to face Chiron again. “Sorry…again.”
He just waves your words away and clears his throat. “I will let this incident go”—your ears perk up at that— “only if you two serve a punishment.”
Your stomach drops at his words. In all of your years here, you’ve never done anything bad enough to warrant a punishment. You’ve seen plenty of younger campers receive penalties in the past, but you’re eighteen now and the thought of having to do something embarrassing in front of the entire camp makes you nauseous. No one would let you live that down.
“How about cleaning the Pegasus stalls for a week?”
“A week?” you exasperate. Cleaning stalls was much better than doing something during the campfire, that’s for sure. But still—a week is a long time. You have campers to take care of. “I don’t have a week to spare just to clean—”
“Okay,” Chiron interrupts. “We’ll make it two.”
Jeongguk shoots you a death glare, but you can’t help the next words that tumble past your lips.
“But isn’t Taehyung in charge of the stables?” You refer to the son of Zeus. “Why the—”
“Should I make it a whole month?”
“Two weeks is perfect,” Jeongguk grits through his teeth.
“Okay, I expect you both to be at the stables sharp and early tomorrow morning then,” Chiron smiles. “Just be glad Dionysus isn’t here this week or you both would’ve had worse punishments.”
After he dismisses you both, you begrudgingly follow Jeongguk out of the Big House. By this point, it’s almost dinnertime and you really should make sure everyone in your cabin is already at the dining pavilion. As you’re lost in thought about what to eat for dinner tonight, Jeongguk suddenly turns around and forces you to stop in your tracks.
“Thanks a lot,” he practically spits out venom. “Your big mouth gave us an extra week with the Pegasi.”
“Looks who’s talking,” you frown. “You have the biggest mouth there is.”
“At least I know when to shut up,” he retorts. “Now, we have to clean the stables every damn morning.”
You roll your eyes. “Don’t act like I actually want to spend more time with you than I already do, Jeon.”
Bypassing him, you ignore his grunts of protest and make your way to Cabin Six. Outside of the gray building, you already see some of your half-siblings making their way to dinner. You greet a few of them, but they’re not who you’re looking for. Walking inside the cabin, you search the stacks of the books and finally find who you’re searching for. As if he knows you’re staring at him, he looks in your direction. “Hey.”
“Hey, Namjoon,” you wave at him.
He sets the book he’s holding down and begins walking towards you. “How did the meeting with Chiron go?”
“Oh,” you awkwardly scratch the back of your head. “Jeongguk and I have to clean the Pegasi stables for two weeks.”
Namjoon scrunches his nose at that. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Tell me about,” you sigh, and then look him in the eyes. “Because of that, would you mind helping me with counselor duties these next few weeks?”
“Sure,” he shrugs. “I mean, it can’t be that bad, right?”
You consider Kim Namjoon to be your second-in-command. As a son of Athena, he is equally as brilliant as you—if not more so—and is a natural born leader. And in all honesty, he could’ve been the head of the cabin; except, he didn’t want to. Something about how he’d rather spend his days doing more productive things.  
“Yeah,” you nod, “just make sure everyone’s awake in time for breakfast—you know how some of the kids can be without proper nutrition—and morning activities.”
Namjoon seems to ponder this for a moment before agreeing and you both head off to the dining pavilion. You’re thankful that there’s someone like him in your cabin, that you two get to be technical half-siblings. Because it’s going to be a long next two weeks.
That night at dinner, as you’re drinking from the pavilion goblets, you feel a pair of eyes burn the back of your head. You don’t even have to turn around to know it’s from table three. Jeongguk’s predictable like that. And as you throw your food offerings into the fire and prepare for the nightly campfire, you never feel his gaze leave you.
***
A part of you wants to blame the fact that you hate Jeongguk so much on your mother’s rivalry with his dad.
Ever since Athena became the patron saint of Athens, you know she’s had issues with Poseidon. You don’t know why—olives are so much better than a salty water spring anyway. But you do know that it’s possible for a child of wisdom and a child of the sea to be amicable. Maybe even be more than that.
However, at the end of the day, it’s really just because of you and Jeongguk.
Ever since you were thirteen and started your first year at camp, you’ve hated him. What started off as a simple dislike became this thing where you can’t even stand to be in the same room as him. Every half-blood knows that you both are rivals, which is why you’ve never willingly been on the same capture the flag team or on a quest together. Not that you’d want to anyway.
Which is why it makes this punishment so terrible. You have no doubt Chiron knew exactly what he was doing.
Despite your repulsion towards the son of Poseidon, you wake up before the sunrises—which isn’t entirely unusual for you. But what is unusual is that you don’t even have time to pick up a book or look through your laptop. You already have somewhere to be.
After you pull on your orange t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts, you slip your sneakers on and make your way towards the stables. As you walk past the arena and volleyball courts, you’re surprised to see a few campers already walking around. A few of them give you curious glances, probably wondering why the head counselor of Athena’s cabin is outside at this hour; but you ignore their looks and continue marching ahead.
Once you make it to the stables, you already see Kim Taehyung unlocking the gate. He must hear you approaching because he turns around with a boxy smile on his face. “Good morning, y/n.”
You wonder how someone like him could be so cheery this early in the morning; on the surface, Taehyung appears rather nice—approachable, even. However, you know that he often has a storm brewing in his eyes. He isn’t afraid to zap people with lightning.
“Hey…”
“I’m so excited you and Jeongguk get to be here with the Pegasi. When Chiron told me about your p—I mean, when he mentioned that you guys would be helping, I thought it was very nice of him,” Taehyung finally unlocks the gate and beckons you to follow him.
Inside the stables, you notice that quite a few of the Pegasi are already awake and begging for attention. You pet one gently on the head, enjoying the soft hair underneath your fingers. Maybe this punishment wouldn’t be so bad.
“He wants to know if you have any carrots.”
Pulling your hand away, you realized you’re getting ahead of yourself. Looking towards the doorway, Jeongguk stands there with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. You know he’s referring to the Pegasus, and you forgot that he could communicate with equines.
“Oh good, you’re here Jeongguk,” Taehyung claps a little too enthusiastically. “That way I don’t have to explain everything twice.”
The son of Zeus explains what he does every morning and every evening, and everything seems easy enough. All you and Jeongguk have to do is clean and feed the Pegasi. Taehyung mentions that he’ll swing by during the week if you two need help, but you let him know that he doesn’t have to do that—everything’s pretty self-explanatory.
“Also, you don’t have to worry about letting them out,” Taehyung continues. “Campers come to ride them during the day, so they should be fine when it’s nighttime.”
After he shows you two where everything is, Taehyung leaves you with the key and two to get to work. By the time you and Jeongguk are done with everything, it feels like hours have surely gone by. Although the work itself is easy enough, there are more Pegasi than you realized.
“How the hell does Taehyung do all of this by himself?” you ask once you put your broom away. You don’t expect an answer, but Jeongguk gives you one anyway.
“He’s been doing this since he got here. I guess he really likes Pegasi.”
Turning to face Jeongguk, you don’t miss the way sweat beads along his forehead and how he uses the bottom of his orange shirt to wipe it away. Your eyes travel down to the exposed skin of his abdomen, drinking in the sight of his tan and toned body. Before he can realize you’ve been staring for a second too long, you’re already halfway out of the stable.
Did I just check out Jeongguk? No, you shake your head; you were just looking at what was in front of you. Besides, he was talking to you anyway. You were not admiring him at all.
“What time are we supposed to meet back here?” his voice catches you before you can get too far.
You stop and turn back around. “I guess before the campfire?”
Jeongguk nods at that, and you proceed to ignore him for the rest of the day. At least, until you both have to be at the stables again later.
124 notes · View notes
penaltybox14 · 3 years
Text
Decofiremen: The Letter
@zeitheist @darknight-brightstar @squad51goals Oh no more Decofiremen.  Is it still found family if you’re finding it again?  Do you get double points for that?
Or, Josiah is way in over his head.
...
Josiah sits at his desk a long time, and the pile of scrapped letters grows around him, and the bells pass the day away.  With the windows open to the big yard, he can feel like chill in the autumn air, the swift kiss of a one-time lover in the morning. 
Monroe is shouting at his team - quicker this, steadier that.  An engine coughs, groans, and finally turns over, to cheers and clapping - that'd be Lieutenant Jackson, who brought his new rank and a second kerodiesel up from the city back in early summer.  He keeps carefully and deliberately breaking the engines piece by piece, teaching the lads to put them back together again.  He will likely do something after dinner like pull the fan-belts or throw bacon grease into the pump levers - Josiah thinks the oakbellies would have a faint if they knew what Jackson was doing, but Jackson knows the kerodiesels like some men knew their horses, and Josiah trusts him.  
But what choice does he have?  He was shipped here to be masters of men who had more than a decade of service on him, and belts so heavy with commendation, so fat with brass you'd need a team three abreast to carry them.  He stands beside them some mornings and feels as if he ought to be in line with the lads instead.
Lieutenant T. Castor, Engine 27, Bronx Battalion District ...
No.  He crumples the paper and shoves it off the desk to where the waste-paper basket probably is, buried somewhere.  He taps his pen on the blotter, leaving little wet, smokey blobs of ink on the worn leather.  No, too formal, that.  When did he get so formal?  His fingers are callused and cracked, still thickest where they gripped the horse and axe.  There is a deep scar on his right arm where Chubs, their old bay gelding, bit him for not giving up a mint.  His left arm is a muddled, molten map, scoured of hair and curiously pale, so he pulls the sleeve down.  For the chill.  
Lt. Thomas -
Now what was Silky's middle name?  Did he ever know it?  
Lt Castor -
No, God, no.  They were on nicknames before they even hit the cobbles together.  Never so tough-tongued as a surname between them.  Thomas, he'd said, at breakfast.  I'm Thomas.  I about ran you over yesterday, I'm sorry.  Grab an extra biscuit, Eddy's recipe is the best.
Silky was almost eighteen, and he was wide about the shoulders but leggy, like a colt at Saratoga.  He had auburn hair and a broad, friendly face, and he didn't know his family, and he had been at the foundling hospital in the city and then Mary of the Assumption Home, which was in Nyack, and then he had gone to school with the Jesuits at Saint Joseph's in Rochester, and Captain Parson had come to see him about a month ago and asked if he didn't want to come and be a fireman, and Captain Parson seemed so awfully familiar well, he couldn't help but say yes.
Josiah found all of this out in line at the mess before they even sat down.
I'm sorry.  The brothers told me I talk too much.  Actually the sisters said that, too.  But I was the best at reading the Latin at Mass, they told me.  What's your name?
Silky - someone started calling him Silky sometime that winter, and Josiah can't recall why, but maybe it was during a card game, or maybe it was because he kept his hair slicked down with some sort of glue he got from the drug store in town, or maybe it was just because he could have talked the ladders into becoming trees again, his voice so smooth and his eyes so kind.  Silky had no enemies, had probably never had an enemy, except after card games in the wintertime.  That was Silky.  
Birchy!  We're doing ladder runs today - come let's be on my team.
I bet I can get Peps to hit the quarter-mile gate in a flat minute, Birchy, will you time?
Silky made a man want to be better, not to beat him, but because he cheered it so.  Which was why Silky was so often the second man on the line - he would push you, and you knew you couldn't, wouldn't ever need to, turn back.  No matter where the fire glows, the song said, we'll bring the bastard down.  And they would - when things shone, when his leg was solid under him, he could catch the humming edge of a thought before it hit Silky's tongue, and Silky rested in his amicable quiet, and the two of them brought terror and some begrudging respect to their captain.  
The sun was good, then.  The summer was high and the winter never cut through their coats.  They had grown up together, until the smoke came and the beam fell and neither of them was enough to see it coming.  
Through the ether and the pain, Silky's voice pulled him back, over and over, even when he wanted to leave, even when he wanted the echoes and the needles and the endless white - the white coats, the white sheets, the white, stark, sterile ward - to end.  Silky pulled him back.  Silky's hands in their white wrappings held his, and his Sear murmured as earnestly as his voice did.  Him that would persuade the devil to abandon his house, him that would settle a horse with his eyes.  
There were long days, endless days, when he wanted to fall forever.  Yet Silky pulled him back.
Silky had written him letters just about every week, after his promotion, when he was assigned to Wynantskill.  Eddy or Lufty Parker would dutifully leave them on his desk, where they stacked, precarious and unopened.  After a while the letters came every month, and Eddy stopped clearing his throat when he brought one, and Lufty stopped staring meaningfully at the pile, and Josiah had dumped them wholesale into a drawer to stop the burning in his chest when he saw Silky's precise Jesuit cursive on the envelopes.  
He'd put the key under the blotter.  So there is one less drawer to use.  So it is.
After the first night, young Cleary hasn't said much to anybody.  Antoine and Ellis have been pressing Lufty Parker to let him participate in some of the day's drills, and Jules keeps trying to coax the boy into one of the evening's baseball games.  Josiah sees him watching Betram Cochrane play the fiddle in the evenings, and remembers piano lessons, and a little girl with a pink bow and a dutch bob, and remembers chloroform and morphine and nursing sisters in dark capes and white hats.  The little fellow calls him Capper, which he ought to mind, but he can't bring himself to discourage.  He calls the boy Davey, or young Cleary, depending on who's listening.  
Outside, Antoine is lining up his team to race for the ladders.  He calls for David Cleary on the line, and Josiah hears Monroe sighing mightily and telling Antoine, again, that Cleary is not in training, Cleary is not even sixteen, and would you please stop asking.
Antoine is going to make his captain gray, wherever he is assigned.  He thinks Antoine could be a driver - he is brave enough, to take the narrow streets at speed - but that he will have his own house someday, too.  Josiah should look to send him to the Bronx, where the tenements are so tight they seem to be held together with moss and mothers' shouting, where there will be many families who will need his courage and his kindness.  
Engine 27, Lieutenant -
No, no.  
Ellis is arguing that a growing boy needs exercise and fresh air, not just to sit on the sidelines.
Josiah pulls the key from under the blotter, then puts it back again.  Then pulls it out.  
In the drawer are more than a dozen letters, neatly sealed, which get thinner as the months draw out between them.  
He puts the key back again.
Silky sat by his bedside at Bellevue, his auburn hair loosed from its dapper glue to spring in waves around his temples.  Josiah had wanted so badly to leave, to shed his body, to tumble down some ethereal stairwell in a dreamless morphine sleep where the sun was bright and nothing hurt, where his leg would be straight forever.  But Silky held him pinned to the dark, smoking earth, and a part of him had hated him for it, and the hate was like an abscessed hoof, rank and hot.  He could never ride the boards again, he could never go back, yet Silky pulled him back anyway.  The selfish bastard, who had sweat and fevered with him when the sear broke.  
An evening breeze rustles the crumpled sheets, the abandoned lines, the empty words around him.  Ellis and Antoine are arguing for Davey's sake, and Monroe sounds close to giving in.  Good for them.  
He grabs the edge of the desk and heaves himself, haltingly, the few lumbering steps to the window, leaning out over Monroe's bald spot.  
"Captain Monroe!"
Monroe looks as surprised as the lads to see him, leaning, gritting against his leg, out the window.
No one can see how white his knuckles are in the long afternoon light.
"Monroe, for God's sake.  Just let the boy try for it.  Antoine, so help me, if young Cleary injures himself, I'll saddle a horse with your hide."
Antoine is grinning, his black eyes bright as apples.  
"Birch - "
"A boy needs to run, Monroe."
Monroe throws up his hands.  "Fine then!  Fine!  Let the little fellow break his face!  Let the state's hand come and flick us off the map like a horsefly!  Fine!  Antoine!  Line 'em up!"
Josiah smiles, and hauls himself back to his desk.
My old friend, he writes, I am so sorry I haven't written.  Please feel free not to forgive me.  But I must tell you about the situation I find myself in - you were always the cleverer of the two of us, Silky.  You could have talked the dead to dancing from their graves.  My right hand, whatever God you once believed in has seen fit to trade a boy just twelve his family for his sear, and now at fourteen, he has finally come to us.  Yes, he is too young to train, but he is too young for many things, and once, you told me that the Jesuits told you that God does not give us more than we cannot carry.  Well, my first and last friend, this is more line than I can drag by myself.  If you cannot bear to forgive my silence, Silky, than please bear to give me some advice.  They gave me my captain's coat because they did not know what else to do, and I am lost.  You were my brother from the day we met face-to-horse, and you shared the sear with me.  What am I to do with this boy?  I know that he is ours, he is our youngest brother, but I know we cannot replace his family.  But when I was lost, Thomas, and wanted to stay that way, you pulled me back, bastard that you were and are.  If anybody can tell me what to do now, that he is with us at last, it's you.
Your foolish and misguided friend, who apologizes for what it's worth,
Truly,
Birchy.
8 notes · View notes
pellaaearien · 6 years
Text
Meta Monday: Lucifer Edition (Part Two)
Happy Meta Monday! Here’s the promised second part to this post (which for some reason became stupidly popular, thank you so much everyone!) focussed on the names of everyone’s favourite Devil.
Full disclosure: I got most of this info from the Wikipedia article about Lucifer, but I thought it was organized a bit unintuitively, so I’ve summarized it in the context of our Lucifer. Feel free to go read the article if you want/need more info!
Tumblr media
Lucifer
As I mentioned in the previous post, lucifer is originally a Latin word. As a noun, it means Venus, the morning star. As an adjective, it means ‘bringer of light.’ Its connection to the Devil is generally considered to derive from the Book of Isaiah, verse 14:12:
How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations! (NIV)
Here’s where it gets interesting (and language-y, luckily for me!) Because the original Hebrew version had הֵילֵל (Heylel), the only time it occurs in the Hebrew Bible, translated as "shining one, light-bearer." Accordingly, the Latin Vulgate version of the Bible used lucifer (uncapitalized), as an adjective. When the King James Version came around, it used Lucifer (capitalized) as a name, intended to refer to the Devil.
Why was the change made? There are a couple reasons, though as with much early Church history it basically boils down to “some old guys said so.” The first, and simplest explanation is that the imagery of a star falling from Heaven fits the story of Satan, the brightest of the angels, being cast down. 
But to put the verse into context, it comes from a speech made by the prophet Isaiah, condemning King Nebuchadnezzar II, where he is called “shining one, son of the morning” aka the sort of language one would use to refer to god-kings such as the ruler of Babylon: ‘You were so great, now look at you.’ And yes, the parallel with Satan is obvious, but it doesn’t make any sense for Isaiah to suddenly reference the Devil here unless he’s drawing a direct comparison, which from the second sentence it doesn’t look like he is. 
So to sum up: somewhere between the Latin translation of the Bible and the King James Version some people decided that the passage was a reference to the Devil and that’s why Lucifer is known as a name of Satan. 
Which means it wasn’t always this way. There are four other references to lucifer in the Vulgate that are definitively unconnected to the Devil. There were even two bishops named Lucifer: Saint Lucifer of Cagliari and Lucifer of Siena. 
Some early church writings and music actually use lucifer as a reference to Jesus! The hymn Lucis largitor splendide by Hilary has the line "Tu verus mundi lucifer" (you are the true light bringer of the world). It’s also used in the Easter Proclamation prayer: "May this flame be found still burning by the Morning Star: the one Morning Star who never sets, Christ your Son...”
So our Lucifer is being quite the cheeky Devil indeed, using the name no doubt with full awareness of the implications! 
Samael
What can I say? Neil Gaiman does his research. Samael is an archangel from the Jewish Talmud, the name is translated as the poison, or blindness, of God. He is the angel of Death, and the name of Satan is sometimes accorded to him when he is in his role as an accuser (which is what the word satan originally means - “enemy, adversary”). 
Now, I don’t have the time, nor am I qualified, to discuss Talmudic lore (and am only somewhat qualified to discuss Christian theology), but I did want to delve into some of the implications this has for the show.
Linda says in 1x06 (prompted by Amenadiel) that the name Samael represents God’s love for Lucifer. While it’s true that in Judaism the angel Samael never fell from God’s grace, the name struck me as a bit odd as a title of love. It seems like Lucifer was always intended to be a punisher; that dratted predestination makes me wonder if God always anticipated Lucifer’s rebellion, and if so, gross. (Remember that this is just in the context of the show; as a Christian myself I have my own opinions about the story of the Christian Devil but that’s a little bit outside the scope of this post!) That means that God let Lucifer rebel because he needed someone to be in charge of Hell, and named him accordingly, back when he was first created? A+ parenting there. 
In any case, names and their etymologies are interesting, and Lucifer’s, fittingly, is the most interesting of them all.
47 notes · View notes