#I like to give them grace because it's hard to know context and history and social rules about somewhere you haven't lived or grown up

[things-methinks]

Talking to [leftist/socialist/progressive/whatever] white people as a brown girl is always an experience

[aj-thegreatest]

Fame and Paparazzi in LO: An Underdeveloped Picture

So this is gonna be less of a "formal" essay, and more of a...ramble unfortunately. Stay around if you still wanna read lol.

I've always been interested in stories where the public eye, media, and/or paparazzi become one of (if not, the only) driving forces in the story. Or stories where the main character is always on guard, protecting their image against the people who twisting it for their own means. See also: any story set in Hollywood, or any story set in a royal/high status environment.

So you could only understand my disappointment on how it's used in LO. Because ideally, this should be a straight shot! And it started off fairly decently.

Persephone, a complete nobody, gets thrusted into the spotlight by meeting an influential powerful figure. And we do see the negative effects of this through Tori and Alex (I can't remember which one got their eye snatched but I honestly kind of don't care about their characters I'm sorry). Persephone can't readily make friends because of Hades' actions. For a moment, she's isolated among her peers. And it's good! And then...

It...barely gets mentioned for like, a majority of the series (Don't worry I will get to that part near the end) There are other moments mentioned (Hera disguising herself as paparazzi as a "test" for Persephone, this notable visual from Minthe's POV)

And it's not anything...substantial? The audience doesn't get to the emotional/mental effects from this. Especially directed at Persephone, who'd ideally be the perfect person for this. It encourages the audience to sympathize with her, which I know the narrative wants. Like, desperately. One of the main rules in LO is to be on Persephone's side, 24/7. And we know what happens if people aren't:

But I also know one of the secret rules of LO, is Persephone cannot suffer/go through genuine hardships. She can't get slandered (rightfully or wrongfully) by the press, because it'd be too hard for her. She can't have a truly unfair trial, because it'd be too unfair. And, if the ending of LO means anything, she can't even have her long distance separation with Hades.

It's why Persephone doesn't get this overall treatment from the press. In the context of the world, she kind of skirts by and doesn't get recognition for it? It's a bit like Retsuko Post S2, where she should probably start getting noticed more but it just doesn't happen.

Even after the trial and her punishment, she can freely walk down the streets of Olympus like she's the most hated goddess around (I'm not even saying this to be mean, if I had a family in the Mortal Realm and I couldn't see them for a decade? I'd be pissed).

I'm going to take time to mention the video that inspired this ramble, Lindsey Ellis’ “Yoko and the Beatles,” which goes into the history of the Beatles and Yoko Ono. It also touches on other famous women, like Courtney Love, Britney Spears and others, who were slammed by the media and press. There is/are a lot of elements at play, to misogyny and racism (in Yoko Ono’s case) that effected their treatment in the public eye. And a lot of this came in the late 90s/early 2000s, which was a very bad time to be in the press. No sympathy at all.

I’d highly suggest watching it for yourself if you haven’t, because the treatment in the video did remind me of an LO character, but not the one the narrative wants us to think of-

Minthe got dumped on in the story, in WT comment section, and by its own creator! It’s no wonder people give her more grace/sympathy, because she’s barely standing up by the time she gets planted. But back to Persephone because it’s always about her:

So. the only time Persephone gets slammed like that is near the end…where the narrative decides to input all the criticism to the evil scary villain who sucks sooooo much:

And it’s like…ok. So. Typically, when a character is getting mistreated in the press, the claims are usually sensationalized and inflammatory. Borderline slander. We, the audience, should not be on the press’s side unless we’re supposed to take validity in those statements.

The best example is the 2nd interview in Bojack Horseman, where the audience is expected to see Bojack as a deeply flawed and messed up person who, when things get really bad, will throw people under the bus to save his own skin (I.E, him mentioning Sharona in relation to Sarah Lynn drinking for the first time). 

And there’s obviously situations where it’s a lot more morally grey, when it comes to the media and press. It’s all about who’s telling the “real” story and which one is the “fake.” But in this, you as a writer need to make a decision: how is your audience supposed to take it? Should we be on the press’s side, like in the case of Bojack, or should we be on the character’s side?

Now. In this moment with Persephone, it’s clear we the audience are supposed to sympathize with her. But everything Apollo (and the other citizens) are saying is…correct. Persephone is responsible for this, and she hasn’t really owned up/done enough to manage it. She’s sitting there in her ivory tower, pulling the “woe is me” act like she did in the trial. And somehow, we’re supposed to be on board? When we haven’t been given enough evidence that Persephone genuinely cares and they’re wrong about her?

And this could’ve worked! If Persephone owned up to her mistakes and wanted to change, we’d be on board! Look, she’s actually developing! But because Persephone can never be in the wrong, the narrative bends itself like a game of Twister for her to always be right. And that’s boring in a story that’s supposed to have stakes.

I’m actually gonna end this off on a positive note, and talk about the best use of the media in LO. While Persephone is at school, after she’s spent the night at Hades place, she comes across this in the bathroom:

This is genuinely perfect! We see how the press/media defame Persephone, and how people are reacting to it. We see her being affected by this in her day to day life, with the Cherry on top being the “Goddess of Sluts.” It’s so bitter and borders on Highschool levels of petty, and it works. This is probably my personal fave moment in the LO Pilot!

And I will forever be shocked on why this wasn’t included in the WT version. It’s so simple to put in, but it’s almost like the press was sprinkled in…instead of being baked into the story. A dash of media slander here, a scoop of cliffhangers, and another sprinkle of SA, and that’s all it is, really. Or just a plot that didn’t spend enough time in the dark room

[swallowerofdharma]

The language of that fall from grace won’t get us home*

I really love manga as a visual language and its various possibilities of storytelling. Among the vocabulary that can be oh so cleverly used, there is the juxtaposition of images or scenes to show similarities or contrast between concepts in the arc of a single chapter. In chapter 2 Yashiro and Doumeki have the first serious talk between them. This time deflection is out of the question and Doumeki has to give up his background and family history, since his sister Aoi has been loitering outside of the office. Yashiro is surprised to learn that Doumeki was in the police and, even if he lost his job and served a prison sentence, his motives and actions were far from the common acts of violence committed by petty criminals who become yakuza. “There is one thing I want to ask you though. How did a former police officer end up in a place like this? Why didn’t you leave when you were told to work for me?” Yashiro asks. And the answer probably doesn’t make a lot of sense to Yashiro. Because Doumeki saw him and thought he was beautiful and a beautiful person in the yakuza meant that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get involved? Without beating around the bush, Yashiro asks directly if Doumeki is gay. Maybe he discovered it in prison? So here there are probably some nuances that need a little bit of attention and some flexibility. I don’t really know who is going to read my analysis but surely enjoying this manga are people from different backgrounds and cultural contexts. Are you gay? Is this character gay? What definitions are we using? Let’s be clear then first, this is just an attempt to analyze what Yashiro and Doumeki talk about, not general statements or definitions. So let’s stay in the text, with these characters and their particular experiences and thoughts and hang-ups and their critical vocabulary. After all shouldn’t understanding come before agreement or disagreement? So let’s suspend our beliefs for a moment while reading the chapter.

“Are you a homo? Did you learn the pleasures of anal while you were in prison?”

“I don’t think I’m homosexual. I never was. But since I can’t get it up right now, I can’t say for sure”.

First of all, for these men to define their sexuality the body seems like the place to look, physical responses are less vague than just thinking someone is attractive. Finding anal sex pleasurable or getting an erection, being able to perform, as in maintaining an erection, and reaching an orgasm, these are observable facts, these are things very basic and easy to understand. And even when this is putting it simply, the reasoning around defining sexual orientation for men comes back to the physical reality often in the common language, in the crass language and in practice. Having become impotent and never having experienced anal sex from the receiving end, from the body’s standpoint Doumeki can’t know more than two things: he wasn’t gay before, we will learn more later about his experiences with women, but he knows that he rejected sexual advances in prison or didn’t feel anything about the guy who gave him a blowjob, while with Yashiro something is different. Yashiro inquires further, after all a young man having an infatuation with an older man can be quite common, but often it’s just admiration and the desire for mentorship, guidance and recognition, rather then being something sexual in nature. If Doumeki can’t be sure because he doesn’t get hard, then maybe he can admit that he felt some form of repulsion towards Yashiro when he gave him a blowjob or when he had gay sex in front of him. I think this is the direction of the dialogue until Doumeki says something unexpected: “I’m not sure. I’ve never met anyone like you in my entire life so…”. Suddenly Yashiro is the one who deflects from the conversation, although he can’t help a gesture of affection for this man who doesn’t express disgust towards his behavior.

Little digression here, but following the logic of physical response and physical pleasure only, Yashiro saying that he is bisexual makes a lot of sense since he feels arousal and gets hard with women too, although he prefers the pleasure he gets from being on the receiving end with men. Matters of consent don’t seem to count in this reasoning, although Yashiro gets angry when Doumeki cosplaying as a cop says that if someone doesn’t object or is into it then that can’t be considered rape, at the beginning of chapter 4. I believe there is something inside Yashiro that knows how wrong that idea actually is, that sometimes you are unable to voice your dissent out loud or your body doesn’t fight it but instinctively retreats into what it learned from experience and worked before, even fabricating pleasure from pain. And that maybe physical responses aren’t reliable enough to make sense of our feelings. But there is another experience that Yashiro knows, and that is that his feelings for Kageyama are independent from what little physical touch passed between them, he knows and can say out loud that he fell in love with a man. That is confirmation enough that Yashiro is queer, something outside of the logic of physical pleasure, something that Yashiro still doesn’t find easier to accept than his sexual preferences and desires. On the contrary, Doumeki as he is at the moment, can only rely on his feelings, since his body is dormant, and those feelings become impossible to ignore or discard because they are calling him and awakening him, giving him hope and direction when he had felt like he had lost everything. So why did I start this analysis announcing a juxtaposition?

The rain keeps falling as we transition into another day when Aoi is back, this time under her own umbrella. Yashiro manages to get her in a caffè to talk alone, without Doumeki knowing, and even tells her about his own experience, because having someone else who knows what that’s like is more than just a generic expression of sympathy. Yashiro can’t help but be self deprecating and stating how different he actually is from her - we will learn how he convinced himself that rape is harder on women or that he somehow doesn’t deserve to be treated with any sort of care. But Aoi, although she is surprised, doesn’t judge him harder than she judges herself as well, for putting Doumeki and her family in an awful situation. Not a lot a pages, not a lot of words, but there are so many things being said or implied, so much complexity and an instant connection. When she confesses her feelings for her brother and she shows how confused and conflicted she is and she cries because her love was not only unrequited but also unnatural, since she is sure she would have loved him even if there was a blood relation, Yashiro recognizes the same type of pain he felt when he recognized his feelings for Kageyama. Stripped down to his own honest responses and after all his stepfather did to him, he still couldn’t help but love a man and one who rejected him. Love came to both Yashiro and Aoi regardless their impossible circumstances and felt wrong and painful and unacceptable to the ones they directed their feelings to. For a moment, we don’t know how long, Yashiro can only watch Aoi cry silently, while his cigarette turns into ashes. And looking out at the window, at the light coming through after the rain, he makes a decision, he won’t fire Doumeki unless he asks to leave himself. Notice how these types of decisions come and how things can change, how these characters are following their hopes or intuition until the next moment they are confronted with another decision to make, another circumstance, and how the storytelling is based on the characters’ little weaknesses and on serendipity, so much so that if we don’t pay enough attention we can miss these delicate threads. This is Yoneda-Sensei’s storytelling. And the composition of the chapter works around these images and these three people trying to make sense of falling in love in ways that defy common beliefs or expectations, ever their own. How they are getting caught in a love that feels distinct and not subject to some type of physical response or banal logic or law or rationale. How useless is fighting against it sometimes, or how love can feel like pain and feel like hope at the same time.

*frase is from a review written by Kevin Brazil about a book called An Apartment on Uranus by Paul B. Preciado and published in ArtReview on March 1st, 2020.

[jankwritten]

I’ve been thinking a lot about what a Hazel and Jason friendship would look like.

Hazel tentatively reaching out after finally understanding that Jason isn’t everything she built him up to be in her head, influenced both by Nico and by what she actually observed of Jason herself

Jason assumes she just wants tips on leadership or maybe how to fight better, so he obliged by offering to train with her

Hazel expects Jason to go easy on her like Percy and Annabeth and Piper do, but instead she gets taken down within a few minutes and has Jason ruthlessly pointing out what things she could improve on.

(Cue: Hazel finally having an opponent who doesn’t underestimate her. Hazel who finally feels like she has somebody she can spar against who will help and not just let her win because she’s young and small. Hazel who finally gets why Nico spends so much time talking about how kind and helpful Jason is, even if what she’s seeing isn’t necessarily kind.)

Jason starts hanging out with Hazel outside of sparring but in other groups, like with Piper, or Nico. He learns that she loves dancing and horses and likes to test the hardness of a stone against her fingernails, likes to collect shiny non-precious things just like Nico does, likes to swear loudly whenever possible as if she’s doing it to purposely piss people off.

Hazel asks Jason if he wants to go hang out one day after the Argo quest is over, maybe go to some museum in NYC that she’s heard Percy talk about, or find metaphysical shops to walk through (I HC that Hazel really loves modern mortal interpretations of magic and that she’s fascinated by the ways mortals accidentally connect to the gods etc.) and Jason assumes she means with someone else and agrees, only to find out they’re going alone.

Jason panicking for a moment about potential misinterpretations, once he realizes, and stammering out some garbled thing about how he really likes her but not like that because ofc all he’s known so far is that being alone with a girl = someone will assume romantic intent. Hazel openly laughs in his face and rather boldly states that she KNOWS Jason is in love with her brother.

Hazel, eventually, being the first person Jason feels safe coming out to. Jason, in return, being the first person Hazel feels safe to talk about being asexual with. The two of them discussing their feelings more and more often while exploring new places together, like Hazel talking about how she did so much researching into queer history and labels when she first found out Nico is gay, Jason telling her that he still doesn’t feel like Thalia is his sister as if he might not be the same Jason Grace she remembers, the two of them coming to terms with being on the aromantic spectrum together.

Jason talking Hazel out of joining the Hunters when she’s having a very very bad day. Hazel stopping Jason from disappearing back out into the mortal world to finish school without first giving his other friends a chance to have input.

(Hazel and Jason inadvertently saving each other’s lives by tweaking fate, thus making their friendship literally woven into their lives forever indisputably. Hades/Pluto patting Jason on the back and telling him thank you with no context or clarification the next time they meet. Hera/Juno, tight lipped and silent, offering Hazel some kind of gift or blessing the next time she returns to New Rome. Hazel and Jason laughing it off when they tell each other because wow, their godly parents are weird as hell.)

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Idk if this is interesting but since you brought up the French versions tu/vous situation: in German ganondorf straight up uses the royal "you" for rauru where you refer to a person with the plural pronoun and calls him your majesty and such, while rauru also uses the informal you (du) and his first name for him. Which kinda had me shocked, because in fantasy media kings usually refer to each other with the royal you! It definitely felt disrespectful. But also in the German version ganondorf says, roughly translated: "we ask to be allowed to return (to our place) under the umbrella of the kingdom hyrule, if you'd allow us this grace." So here it's implied the gerudo used to be a vessel state and freed themselves, and STILL he gives them "repeated invitations "??? It's soo off-putting

Hey, thanks for the ask and the absolutely wild input!!

So I did a post a billion years ago detailing my feelings about the french translation of the Show of Fealty scene, its tl;dr being: it's wild they decided to go for the the tu/vous distinction because it just adds 26 layers of subtext to the entire exchange --and I don't know how this works in german, but using "tu" on a fellow adult during a show of power definitively has racist history if the context does apply (and here it's pretty hard not to see colonialist accents to the whole situation).

But it's absolutely buckwild that they gave the gerudos this notion of previously being a vassal state? but like when???? when did it happen, was it all... extremely recent history? like did Zelda just dropped at the end of some sort of unification war, where Ganondorf became a hero of his people for..... very concerning reasons? Like did they need a hero *in that context*?

(cue I need a hero etc my brain will now be haunted for the next day or so)

Like... I don't know I'm sorry if I go a bit insane, but I feel like the implication is either that Hyrule was founded in 10-15 years, given Sonia still looks pretty damn young, mid-thirties at most; or that Rauru/Mineru were trying to handle everything for far longer, and Sonia was a late addition to the picture? And so, in that time, they managed to convince everyone to do a kingdom about it --and that would mean the gerudos had time to either join first/be conquered first, and then revolt, and then join again? Like was Ganondorf forced to submit a first time as a younger king, and then return later with a Molduga army, zero-ing in on the Secret Stones, and then going all Demon King???

Yeah, from what I've seen from literal translations, that seems to be a german exclusive (unless I'm mistaken? let me know!) But it's pretty wild how such small changes in translation literally change the game's fabric and the story it tells.

[shivasdarknight]

so yeah, i havent watched either dawntrail trailer 🤷

idk im finding it kinda hard to get excited about it at the constant reminders that they fridged one of their best and relevant characters back in azys lla, the clumsy handling of the void, the rancidly misogynistic shit in pandae, the solely white examples for the new lighting engine, the telling lack of info regarding femhroths that just screams disinterest because women, how absolutely terrible this could go because No i Do Not want road to el dorado references because idc if you guys are endeared to it that shit was racist

like on a more serious note, how am i supposed to get excited about an expansion where our summer vacation is getting mixed in with a different nation's political affairs when we're mostly fantasy europeans (excluding the variable of the wol but even then most are white eorzeans) and tural is fantasy mesoamerica. how am i supposed to be excited about this touristy angle when tourism is a major facet of colonization, especially when it regards the cultures that this region is based in. so framing you getting mixed up in yet another rite of succession from a culture you - in all likelihood - are not affiliated with as a summer vacation is just. it's deeply uncomfortable and it's hard to feel excited about this - especially with their history, continued bullshit, and refusal to remove egregious stuff like the "new world" set or the far northern attire.

idk. i wanna be wrong, but it's hard to be excited when the continuation of stuff they're Saying they'll address is right in front of us. the au ra showcased were pasty with blond hair and im p sure blue eyes and it was raen, not xaela - are they really that allergic to anything darker than a light tan? locations gorgeous, but I still see gifs everywhere of meteor fighting that mamool'ja leader - what happened to portraying them as people and not as monsters to take down? i only know that mamool ja's station because i know who the mamool ja are and the significance of large, two-headed ones. to most, that looks like a run of the mill dungeon boss since there Is a mamool ja boss, and the framing is similar to any number of inhuman adversaries shown in previous trailers. but if they're doing better about cultural sensitivity, then why did they make a member of their indigenous stand-in group be the big enemy for meteor to showcase Viper combat against? i really hope that - contextually - it's not something bad, but out of context it really just looks like taking down a big reptile monster which isnt great when that's your indigenous stand-in that's been portrayed like SHIT since ARR and hasn't had the same redeeming grace as the majority tribes - because where the amalj'aa are characterized by military strength and the noble savage trope, the mamool ja are portrayed as spineless mercenaries and sexual creeps. if we're in the mamool ja reframing expac, why does the trailer showcase that.

god dammit. i want to be wrong!!! i want to be overreacting because this would suck if true but their history doesnt give much confidence that they'll do better, and their current actions - the tourism angle, the lack of info with femhroths, the lighting engine - arent much to be confident about either!!

i wanna be wrong so fucking badly but i dont trust this team as far as i can throw them.

[roobylavender]

just saw someone refer to Zdarsky’s characterization of talia in that urban legends issue as “the talia damian deserves”… she existed as a better character for decades before him than she did after… when will we be free of the misogyny.

but, in all seriousness, it frustrates me because having to deal with this level of character defamation closes the door to so many conversations about talia’s character.

Like, for example, given things like the state of her & bruce’s relationship & the level of complexity that exists there even when they’re at their best bc of the age gap, along with her own history growing up, it’s totally possible that talia’s feelings about parenthood would be deeply fucking complicated. and it’s just something that slides under the radar because people are so busy either trying to compromise with, endorse, or disprove morrison’s (and those who followed’s) mischaracterization of her.

So, in the interest of being constructive: Obv she would love her baby no matter what, but there’s so much that could be said as to whether she’d be ready for that role (especially considering that she had to contend with the possibility of single motherhood), about if she felt like she had the tools to be a good parent in that moment regardless of how much she may love her baby, about whether she feels she knows how to give this baby the upbringing she knows it deserves because she still has a lot of growing to do herself. And to be clear she would be ask these questions out of nothing but love and hope that her baby will live the fullest life the world has ever seen, but it would still be really really fucking hard because it’s not an easy emotional place to be in! and that’s okay! it’s interesting! And that’s not going into the fact that I have never once heard a single person ever confront the possibility that, for all we know, talia could have struggled with post-partum depression. and it’s just so frustrating because examining this part of her story can be fascinating, especially because family, love, and responsibility are all major themes for talia’s character and contending with these sorts of questions through her would be such a fitting setup for deeply human character work. and tbc i do think, even following the line of damian being given up, talia would want to have a family someday, like she would want to be a parent yk? so her having to confront these issues and where she sees sort of faults in her person in the hopes of being better for the child she could have one day in honour of the one she already has? As a thank you for gracing her life, even if only for as long as she got to hold them? we could have had it all.

but hey, at least now she’s the talia damian deserves, whatever that means.

i think so much about the fact that her life from when she gave up damian to when he was introduced was rarely explored in context of that loss! like obv it was never mentioned again bc denny o’neil erased it out of canon for his tenure so no one could bring it up but i think it’s fun to work with that forced erasure and make something of it. like you could totally reason that talia’s behavior immediately following son of the demon (i.e., detective comics annual #1, bride of the demon) could be construed in light of post-partum depression. her strength of character was still there but i feel like there was a sort of childlike petulance to her, too, like she was grasping onto the last threads of happiness that she could have in light of that loss bc it was otherwise traumatizing to go through and process on her own, what with her being the only one to know the truth about his survival. mike w. barr was subtle with it obv but those last pages of bride of the demon always make my heart pang bc you could tell how badly she wanted to be able to share the grief of that with bruce, and yet not even he could bear to talk about it, so you can only imagine what she was going through

i also like to construe some of her later material approaching and following tower of babel as reflective of a developing relief within her at the idea that she didn’t have to be a mother. that period of time is so crucial for her in terms of breaking free of all constraints and expectations and i can picture her having those fleeting thoughts. thank god i gave him away. i don’t know how i would have done it on my own. i can’t handle raising a child. i would spend the rest of my life perpetually in fear for his safety, and i would wither away. not to position her as potentially selfish or anything but i think it’s always impt to note she was very young when she married bruce and like! it’s totally human to experience both a deep grief following such a loss and a deep relief at the idea of not having to bear such a burden as a young woman all alone with no one to support her. but i like it even more so bc i think it could be really fun to capitalize on in light of an introduction to damian where she finds out that ra’s has him. like can you imagine how guilty she would feel knowing she got to break free and forge her own life and make her own decisions meanwhile her father was busy recapturing the child that she was eventually relieved to have given away. i would love to see something like that explored on paper. it’s so much more interesting to me to explore the complicated nuances of talia’s (and bruce’s) “abandonment” of damian and how that would factor into building a relationship with him once they meet him, than is the morrison premise of talia having raised him the whole time bc ofc she had no life outside of the league and never went through an arc to gain independence 🙄

[stopdrunkdriving]

Who Gets Grace?

New Post has been published on https://drunkdriving.co.za/who-gets-grace/

Who Gets Grace?

jamesmacdonald.com

Likewise, you who are younger, be subject to the elders. Clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you (1 Peter 5:5–6, ESV).

God opposes the proud. In the context of Peter’s full letter, the particular brand of pride he is referring to is refusal to submit to an authority in our lives—a boss, coach, mentor, elder, teacher, pastor, spouse.

Why do we get bent and rebellious? Because someone else is in control, and we’re not. Because an authority’s expectations grate on us, and we want to choose our own ways. Because we want specific things to happen in our lives, and those things are not happening. So we get rebellious and think, I will make it happen. I’ll take control and get what I deserve, and no one is not going to stop me.

That’s pure rebellion. Let’s consider the underlying problem: When you resist authority and refuse to submit, you have become overly focused on the human authority in your life. Behind that person is God, who establishes human institutions. When you proudly resist human authority, God Himself will oppose you—which is a terrifying, sobering thought. He ensures your attitude of rebellion will never take you to a good place.

You may protest, “But my situation is different. What’s happening to me is so unjust. I’m being treated unfairly. It’s not right.” Your assessment may be right, but that doesn’t change God’s answer: “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you” (5:6). God’s radical guidance runs contrary to our natural reactions. Clawing your way to some position of success or opportunity may seem appealing, but it is far more rewarding to wait, trust God, and see Him put you in that place. Then you know with certainty He wanted you there.

At some point, most of us have to work or live with someone in authority who is unreasonable. If we bear up under unjust suffering, we receive favor from God (1 Peter 2:19-20). But if the problem is our own fault, God is not commending us for hanging in there. More likely He’s thinking, I wish they would stop rebelling. It would save them so much pain and bring us closer together. We find favor with God when we endure for the right reasons—and submission invites His favor.

God loves heartfelt, willing humility. When He sees you bearing up under injustice with a submissive spirit, get ready to be blessed. The Lord instructs you to submit and honors you when you do. As you reflect on the history of your life, you will likely see a pattern: seasons of struggle when you have chosen to submit to difficult authorities are followed by abundant favor and blessings from God.

Have you found this pattern to be true in your own life—struggle, submission, blessing? With God, the way up is down. The next time an authority grates on you, rather than demanding your way, try submission. Remember, when you submit to a human authority, you are submitting to God. Humble yourself under His mighty hand and experience His favor and grace.

Journal

Consider the people who have authority in your life—Jesus, your spouse, your pastors and elders, your boss, others. Who is being unreasonable or excessively demanding of you?

What’s a concrete way you can submit to him or her in your next interaction?

Pray

Lord God, I admit I like my own way too much. Though it feels easy to submit to some people sometimes, I find it very hard to submit to _____. Please help me to see that when I submit to that person, I’m really submitting to You. I choose to humble myself and wait for You to lift me up—at the right time, in the way You have in mind. Thank You for Your grace. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Our Journey devotionals are brought to you by Change Partners of Walk in the Word.

Source: http://www.jamesmacdonald.com/teaching/devotionals/?utm_source=Walk+in+the+Word+%7C+Our+Journey+Online&utm_campaign=36f0d65b92-Our+Journe…

Who Gets Grace? was originally published on BIBLE Knowledge

The post Who Gets Grace? first appeared on Koa Sinag.

[hedgehog-moss]

what are your favorite books in terms of prose? curious after you wrote about how many modern writers lack a sense for good writing, which i’ve also felt for years. so who do you think writes especially beautifully :-)

(Warning: long post ahead pondering what is perceived as beautiful prose in English vs French!)

The first books that came to my mind are the ones listed below, and it got me wondering why they were all by French authors, when I read a lot in other languages. I think even if you can read foreign literature fluently, it’s easier to detect & appreciate beautiful prose in your mother tongue, not just because you know it so intimately (so you know how many different ways there are to convey an idea and why this particular way was a great choice in this context), but also because languages develop their own criteria of what constitutes good writing, and we aren’t really taught about this—we're taught about our own language's criteria for good prose as if they were universal and objective, and it can be hard to move beyond that, especially when you're happily lost in a book and not actively trying to analyse the subtleties of the writing.

At the risk of giving the least hipster answer ever I really like Victor Hugo's writing because there are whole passages that sound so good I need to go back and re-read them to figure out what's happening in terms of plot (usually nothing, so it's ok), because I was too busy enjoying the flow of language the first time around (my favourite of his is The Man Who Laughs)

I read Pierre Assouline's 500-page book about the Book of Job even though I have little interest in biblical analysis or religious history, because there were sentences that were so pleasantly paced and balanced I just got carried by the momentum...

I love Annie Ernaux's writing in Les Années even though I'm not a fan of her other books, because the sentence construction and rhythm are so perfectly suited to the theme of the book.

I find Anatole France's books rather dull but the language is hypnotising (I talked a bit in this post about how his grammar is graceful as a dance...)

^ looking at this I realise I always come back to movement—grace, balance, flow, rhythm (not the pace of the story but of each sentence), and I know these are the criteria that French deems Terribly Important. I mentioned at the end of this post how (and why) English tends to be less interested in the motion of language and more in the imagery; in Goodreads reviews by native English speakers, beautiful writing is more likely to be described as ‘vivid’ than melodious. That's not to say English speakers can't appreciate (or prefer!) other kinds of prose, obviously, it's just, in broad strokes, what each language likes to focus on (at the present time.) There's a lot of appreciation in English for the kind of prose that you could easily make a moodboard out of—evoking sensations, colours, atmosphere—while French highly values the kind of prose that you can easily trace out in the air, with your hand rising and falling, tapping the beat, following grammatical twists and turns.

That's just my understanding, but it's something I notice a lot because I like to read French books along with their English translation (and conversely), to see how translators handle a tricky turn of phrase, or what I would have done differently. And it happens time and time again that the English translation lovingly preserves the imagery of a French sentence (even when a metaphor is difficult to translate) while coldly abandoning the rhythm and sound (even when there are easy English equivalents). Meanwhile French translators often completely ignore (or miss out on) subtle sources of mood and imagery because they are too busy picking the words and sentence structure that sound or flow best. It's really quite funny when you start to notice it.

I would have dozens of examples if I actually took the time to note them as I read, but just two recent ones off the top of my head—

French -> English

I'm currently reading Sylvain Tesson's La Panthère des neiges (The Art of Patience: Seeking the Snow Leopard in Tibet in English) (I needed a 'cold’ book during the heatwave...) At one point the author draws a comparison between religious worship and observing wild animals. For an example of what I was saying re: "tracing out sentences in the air", there's the sentence "La prière s'élève, adressée à Dieu." The two halves are 5 syllables - 5 syllables (6-6 if you read it formally.) The last word of the first half is "s'élève" — "rises". The last word of the second half goes down, since it's the end of the sentence. There's a clear rising and falling motion to it, which is also perfectly balanced in terms of syllables / rhythm; it makes a nice symmetric pattern in the air.

Now, the translation aspect—you've got the sentence "A genoux, on espère sans preuve." Then, shortly afterwards: "A l'affût, on connaît ce que l'on attend." The author is comparing the acts of kneeling (to pray) and lying in wait (to watch animals); so he chose phrasings and sentence structures that create a clear symmetry ("A genoux" / "A l'affût", 3 syllables, starting with the same sound, followed by a comma, then “on” + verb + clause.) The English translation? "To kneel is to wait in expectation without proof" [...] "Lying in a hide, the object of the wait is known."

This is bad!

Now the two sentences have different grammatical structures, they don't contain the same pronoun and don’t start with the same sound or phrasing even though the translator could have chosen to write "Kneeling" and "Lying" to preserve a tiny bit of the original intent. The translation obliterates the similarities of sound & rhythm in the grammar and word choice, which were here for a literary purpose—to link and compare two concepts.

On the other hand, every sentence in the book that's ripe with vivid imagery of wild animals is very conscientiously translated. In the next page, Tesson describes yaks as "taches de jais saupoudrant—", the English translator: "[the yaks] appeared as jade smudges scattered—" It's word for word ! The translator clearly thought visually striking phrases are essential and must be preserved as faithfully as possible, but phrases that are striking on an auditory / rhythmical level are less important (or less likely to be appreciated by an English-speaking reader.)

English -> French

I was reading The Bear and the Nightingale last year and I remember a contrast so blatant it made me laugh—the sentence "The ground was thick with snowdrops" in the original, was translated in French as "Le sol était parsemé d'une nuée de perce-neige." (The ground was scattered with a mist of snowdrops.)

In terms of French prose, this is good! In terms of faithful translation of English prose, this is bad! The translator went for the complete opposite when it comes to imagery—"thick" which evokes weight, vs. the weightlessness of "scattered" and “mist.”

But you know what? "Parsemé" and "perce-neige" have the same syllable count and nearly identical consonant sounds— [p]-[sə]-[m] / [p]-[sə]-[n]. It's pleasing to the ear and symmetrical. The “mist” bit might seem unnecessary (you could say “scattered with snowdrops”) but it was added because it contributes to this—rather than having two similar words right next to one another, they are now the last word in the first and second half of the sentence, making each half end on a similar sound, like poetry. The two halves "le sol était parsemé" and "d'une nuée de perce-neige" have 7 syllables each (with a mute e, the way most people would read it.) So the sentence sounds nice and is well-balanced, and what could be more important than musicality and balance?? Surely not imagery.

It's good writing in terms of what French deems important. It's terrible at preserving what the original English deemed important—"thick" associated with snowdrops as if the flowers were an actual blanket of snow—this evokes weight and quiet—the next sentence then opens with the trill of a bird, and the light, airy sound feels all the more vivid thanks to this clear contrast.

Which is obliterated by the French translation. But the French sentence flows nicely, and it really highlights what each language finds beautiful and essential, in terms of prose. I mentioned in this post that one of the reasons French takes up more room as a language is that it loves grammatical redundancy while English hates it—and I think it's because expanding or repeating a grammatical structure can add symmetry and balance, while it dilutes / drowns out the imagery. I don't think translators make an active choice all the time to overlook one aspect of the prose and pay more attention to another—I think as they mentally chew on the original text and try to come up with the best equivalent, they instinctively tend to fall into this pattern of favouring their language’s Good Writing criteria (probably because it’s assumed readers favour them as well.)

I should write these kinds of examples down in some Word doc, because they’re everywhere, and while there are so many writing styles and translation styles in both languages, there really is a pattern here—French being obsessed with balance and assonance, i.e. the beauty of motion & sound (which are twin concepts when it comes to language), how to make the flow of a sentence linger in your mind; English being obsessed with the beauty of imagery, the ways to make it 'pop', how to make an atmosphere linger in your mind.

Sorry for this very long answer that only briefly touched on your question, but I really love to observe the ways people use their languages so similarly yet differently!

[ganymedesclock]

These are questions I've had for some while and it's hard to find someone who'll answer with grace. This mostly relates to disabilities (mental or physical) in fiction.

1) What makes a portrayal of a disability that's harming the character in question ableist?

2) Is there a way to write a disabled villain in a way that isn't ableist?

In the circles I've been in, the common conceptions are you can't use a character's disability as a plot point or showcase it being a hindrance in some manner. heaven forbid you make your villain disabled in some capacity, that's a freaking death sentence to a creative's image. I understand historically villains were the only characters given disabilities, but (and this is my personal experience) I've not seen as many disabled villains nowadays, heck, I see more disabled heroes in media nowadays.

Sorry if this comes off as abrasive, I'd really like to be informed for future media consumption and my own creative endeavors.

Okay so the first thing I'm going to say is that while it IS a good idea to talk to disabled people and get their feedback, disabled people are not a monolith and they aren't going to all have the same take on how this goes.

My personal take is biased in favor that I'm a neurodivergent person (ADHD and autism) who has no real experience with physical disabilities, so I won't speak for physically disabled people- heck, I won't even speak for every neurotype. Like I say, people aren't a monolith.

For myself and my own writing of disabled characters, here's a couple of concepts I stick by:

Research is your friend

Think about broad conventions of ableism

Be mindful of cast composition

1. Research is your friend

Yeah this is the thing everybody says, so here's the main bases I try to cover:

What's the story on this character's disability?

Less in terms of 'tragic angst' and more, what kind of condition this is- because a congenital amputee (that is to say, someone who was born without a limb) will have a different relationship to said limb absence than someone who lost their limb years ago to someone who lost their limb yesterday. How did people in their life respond to it, and how did they respond to it? These responses are not "natural" and will not be the same to every person with every worldview. This can also be a great environment to do worldbuilding in! Think about the movie (and the tv series) How To Train Your Dragon. The vikings in that setting don't have access to modern medicine, and they're, well, literally fighting dragons and other vikings. The instance of disability is high, and the medical terminology to talk about said disabilities is fairly lackluster- but in a context where you need every man you possibly can to avoid the winter, the mindset is going to be not necessarily very correct, but egalitarian. You live in a village of twenty people and know a guy who took a nasty blow to the head and hasn't quite been the same ever since? "Traumatic Brain Injury" is probably not going to be on your lips, but you're also probably going to just make whatever peace you need to and figure out how to accommodate Old Byron for his occasional inability to find the right word, stammers and trembles. In this example, there are several relevant pieces of information- what the character's disability is (aphasia), how they got it (brain injury), and the culture and climate around it (every man has to work, and we can't make more men or throw them away very easily, so, how can we make sure this person can work even if we don't know what's wrong with them)

And that dovetails into:

What's the real history, and modern understandings, of this?

This is where "knowing the story" helps a lot. To keep positing our hypothetical viking with a brain injury, I can look into brain injuries, what affects their extent and prognosis, and maybe even beliefs about this from the time period and setting I'm thinking of (because people have had brains, and brain injuries, the entire time!) Sure, if the setting is fantastical, I have wiggle room, but looking at inspirations might give me a guide post.

Having a name for your disorder also lets you look for posts made by specific people who live with the condition talking about their lives. This is super, super important for conditions stereotyped as really scary, like schizophrenia or narcissistic personality disorder. Even if you already know "schizophrenic people are real and normal" it's still a good thing to wake yourself up and connect with others.

2. Think about broad conventions of ableism

It CAN seem very daunting or intimidating to stay ahead of every single possible condition that could affect someone's body and mind and the specific stereotypes to avoid- there's a lot under the vast umbrella of human experience and we're learning more all the time! A good hallmark is, ableism has a few broad tendencies, and when you see those tendencies rear their head, in your own thinking or in accounts you read by others, it's good to put your skeptical glasses on and look closer. Here's a few that I tend to watch out for:

Failing the “heartwarming dog” test

This was a piece of sage wisdom that passed my eyeballs, became accepted as sage wisdom, and my brain magnificently failed to recall where I saw it. Basically, if you could replace your disabled character with a lovable pet who might need a procedure to save them, and it wouldn’t change the plot, that’s something to look into.

Disability activists speak often about infantilization, and this is a big thing of what they mean- a lot of casual ableism considers disabled people as basically belonging to, or being a burden onto, the able-bodied and neurotypical. This doesn’t necessarily even need to have an able neurotypical in the picture- a personal experience I had that was extremely hurtful was at a point in high school, I decided to do some research on autism for a school project. As an autistic teenager looking up resources online, I was very upset to realize that every single resource I accessed at the time presumed it was talking to a neurotypical parent about their helpless autistic child. I was looking for resources to myself, yet made to feel like I was the subject in a conversation.

Likewise, many wheelchair users have relayed the experience of, when they, in their chair, are in an environment accompanied by someone else who isn’t using a chair, strangers would speak to the standing person exclusively, avoiding addressing the chair user. 

It’s important to always remind yourself that at no point do disabled people stop being people. Yes, even people who have facial deformities; yes, even people who need help using the bathroom; yes, even people who drool; yes, even people whose conditions impact their ability to communicate, yes, even people with cognitive disabilities. They are people, they deserve dignity, and they are not “a child trapped in a 27-year-old body”- a disabled adult is still an adult. All of the “trying to learn the right rules” in the world won’t save you if you keep an underlying fear of non-normative bodies and minds.

This also has a modest overlap between disability and sexuality in particular. I am an autistic grayromantic ace. Absolutely none of my choices or inclinations about sex are because I’m too naive or innocent or childlike to comprehend the notion- disabled people have as diverse a relationship with sexuality as any other. That underlying fear- as mentioned before- can prevent many people from imagining that, say, a wheelchair user might enjoy sex and have experience with it. Make sure all of your disabled characters have full internal worlds.

Poor sickly little Tiffany and the Red Right Hand

A big part of fictional ableism is that it separates the disabled into two categories. Anybody who’s used TVTropes would recognize the latter term I used here. But to keep it brief:

Poor, sickly little Tiffany is cute. Vulnerable. How her disability affects her life is that it constantly creates a pall of suffering that she lives beneath. After all, having a non-normative mind or body must be an endless cavalcade of suffering and tragedy, right? People who are disabled clearly spend their every waking moment affected by, and upset, that they aren’t normal!

The answer is... No, actually. Cut the sad violin; even people who have chronic pain who are literally experiencing pain a lot more than the rest of us are still fully capable of living complex lives and being happy. If nothing else, it would be literally boring to feel nothing but awful, and people with major depression or other problems still, also, have complicated experiences. And yes, some of it’s not great. You don’t have to present every disability as disingenuously a joy to have. But make a point that they own these things. It is a very different feeling to have a concerned father looking through the window at his angel-faced daughter rocking sadly in her wheelchair while she stares longingly out the window, compared to a character waking up at midnight because they have to go do something and frustratedly hauling their body out of their bed into their chair to get going.

Poor Sickly Little Tiffany (PSLT, if you will) virtually always are young, and they virtually always are bound to the problems listed under ‘failing the heartwarming dog’ test. Yes, disabled kids exist, but the point I’m making here is that in the duality of the most widely accepted disabled characters, PSLT embodies the nadir of the Victim, who is so pure, so saintly, so gracious, that it can only be a cruel quirk of fate that she’s suffering. After all, it’s not as if disabled people have the same dignity that any neurotypical and able-bodied person has, where they can be an asshole and still expect other people to not seriously attack their quality of life- it’s a “service” for the neurotypical and able-bodied to “humor” them.

(this is a bad way to think. Either human lives matter or they don’t. There is no “wretched half-experience” here- if you wouldn’t bodily grab and yank around a person standing on their own feet, you have no business grabbing another person’s wheelchair)

On the opposite end- and relevant to your question- is the Red Right Hand. The Red Right Hand does not have PSLT’s innocence or “purity”- is the opposite extreme. The Red Right Hand is virtually always visually deformed, and framed as threatening for their visual deformity. To pick on a movie I like a fair amount, think about how in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the title character is described- “Strong. Fast. Had a metal arm.” That’s a subtle example, but, think about how that metal arm is menacing. Sure, it’s a high tech weapon in a superhero genre- but who has the metal arm? The Winter Soldier, who is, while a tormented figure that ultimately becomes more heroic- scary. Aggressive. Out for blood.

The man who walks at midnight with a Red Right Hand is a signal to us that his character is foul because of the twisting of his body. A good person, we are led to believe, would not be so- or a good person would be ashamed of their deformity and work to hide it. The Red Right Hand is not merely “an evil disabled person”- they are a disabled person whose disability is depicted as symptomatic of their evil, twisted nature, and when you pair this trope with PSLT, it sends a message: “stay in your place, disabled people. Be sad, be consumable, and let us push you around and decide what to do with you. If you get uppity, if you have ideas, if you stand up to us, then the thing that made you a helpless little victim will suddenly make you a horrible monster, and justify us handling you with inhumanity.”

As someone who is a BIG fan of eldritch horror and many forms of unsettling “wrongness” it is extremely important to watch out for the Red Right Hand. Be careful how you talk about Villainous Disability- there is no connection between disability and morality. People will be good, bad, or simply just people entirely separate from their status of ability or disability. It’s just as ableist to depict every disabled person as an innocent good soul as it is to exclusively deal in grim and ghastly monsters.

Don’t justify disabilities and don’t destroy them.

Superpowers are cool. Characters can and IMO should have superpowers, as long as you’re writing a genre when they’re there.

BUT.

It’s important to remember that there is no justification for disabilities, because they don’t need one. Disability is simply a feature characters have. You do not need to go “they’re blind, BUT they can see the future”

This is admittedly shaky, and people can argue either way; the Blind Seer is a very pronounced mythological figure and an interesting philosophical point about what truly matters in the world. There’s a reason it exists as a conceit. But if every blind character is blind in a way that completely negates that disability or makes it meaningless- this sucks. People have been blind since the dawn of time. And people will always accommodate their disabilities in different ways. Even if the technology exists to fix some forms of blindness, there are people who will have “fixable” blindness and refuse to treat it. There will be individuals born blind who have no meaningful desire to modify this. And there are some people whose condition will be inoperable even if it “shouldn’t” be.

You don’t need to make your disabled characters excessively cool, or give them a means by which the audience can totally forget they’re disabled. Again, this is a place where strong worldbuilding is your buddy- a handwave of “x technology fixed all disabilities”, in my opinion, will never come off good. If, instead, however, you throw out a careless detail that the cool girl the main character is chatting up in a cyberpunk bar has an obvious spinal modification, and feature other characters with prosthetics and without- I will like your work a lot, actually. Even if you’re handing out a fictional “cure”- show the seams. Make it have drawbacks and pros and cons. A great example of this is in the series Full Metal Alchemist- the main character has two prosthetic limbs, and not only do these limbs come with problems, some mundane (he has phantom limb pains, and has to deal with outgrowing his prostheses or damaging them in combat) some more fantastical (these artificial limbs are connected to his nerves to function fluidly- which means that they get surgically installed with no anesthesia and hurt like fuck plugging in- and they require master engineering to stay in shape). We explicitly see a scene of the experts responsible for said limbs talking to a man who uses an ordinary prosthetic leg, despite the advantages of an automail limb, because these drawbacks are daunting to him and he is happier with a simple prosthetic leg.

Even in mundane accommodations you didn’t make up- no two wheelchair users use their chair the exact same way, and there’s a huge diversity of chairs. Someone might be legally blind but still navigate confidently on their own; they might use a guide dog, or they might use a cane. They might even change their needs from situation to situation!

Disability accommodations are part of life

This ties in heavily to the previous point, but seriously! Don’t just look up one model of cane and superimpose it with no modifications onto your character- think about what their lifestyle is, and what kind of person they are!

Also medication is not the devil. Yes, medical abuse is real and tragic and the medication is not magic fairy dust that solves all problems either. But also, it’s straight ableism to act like anybody needing pills for any reason is a scary edgy plot twist. 

(and addiction is a disease. Please be careful, and moreover be compassionate, if you’re writing a character who’s an addict)

3. Be mindful of cast composition

This, to me, is a big tip about disability writing and it’s also super easy to implement!

Just make sure your cast has a lot of meaningful disabled characters in it!

Have you done all the work you can to try and dodge the Red Right Hand but you’re still worried your disabled villain is a bad look? They sure won’t look like a commentary on disability if three other people in the cast are disabled and don’t have the same outlook or role! Worried that you’re PSLT-ing your main character’s disabled child? Maybe the disability is hereditary and they got it from the main character!

The more disabled characters you have, the more it will challenge you to think about what their individual relationship is with the world and the less you’ll rely on hackneyed tropes. At least, ideally.

-

Ultimately, there’s no perfect silver bullet of diversity writing that will prevent a work from EVER being ableist, but I hope this helped, at least!

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Ok, ok hear me out: The papas as dads? Like maybe some good ol head cannons of the papas as dads

I’ve made a couple of these for slightly different prompts, but I wanted to link them to give more context for this! <3 

Holding their Newborns --> [Link]

Parenting a Son --> [Link]

The latter of the two is more detailed in how I envision them as parents, so this one will be more general head canons! 

The Papas as Fathers (Gender Neutral Child)

Papa Nihil:

~For a new child there is definitely favoritism. His other three didn’t work out the way he planned, so this is a chance to start again! Now that he’s also not out partying or being Papa he has the time to spend with his new heir. 

~A lot of time spent with his youngest is watching horror, old movies, and game shows. It becomes one of his favorite ways of bonding with his child! They grow up knowing every line to the Omen since they were five- oops. 

~He’s not as spry as he used to be, so his youngest has their own group of ghouls to watch over them. Nihil doesn’t trust Papa IV and he definitely doesn’t trust his own physical abilities to protect them. The ghouls give him a piece of mind.

~Unlike the rest, he DOES expect his youngest to retake the Emeritus title and Clergy. How they do that is up to them! As long as he thinks they are working to fulfil their destiny as His Chosen and restore the throne to the proper bloodline! 

Papa I:

~Will heavily train his child to be an heir to the Emeritus line. Whether they decide to be Papa/Mama, Imperator, or just a part of the ministry is up to them. But he DOES put emphasis on encouraging them to take over for the family line. 

~Surprisingly soft when they are small. He is a scary man, but children need a gentle hand when they are young. So when he is a given a toy phone or asked to read a book, you better believe he does both! 

~Prefers to teach them Witchcraft and the dark arts himself. Normally he invests in good tutors and mentors, but magic is something best left to those of the bloodline. Normal humans could never comprehend the capabilities of the chosen blooded. 

~ Thanked Lucifer the moment he found out he was going to be a father. His child is an unblessing he thought he would never be graced with. 

Papa II:

~Papa is very caring and loving towards his child, but is more open to show it when they are small. Granted, he has never been very emotional but he recognizes that his child is a tiny human who needs patience and love. When they get older he is more stoic, but he never stops caring.

~He is definitely the dad that shows love through support and providing than emotions or hugs. Like he won’t kiss boo-boos better, but he would never let his child go hungry or feel like a burden. His love is by providing them with necessities and having his door open if they ever need someone to speak to. Guidance and advice is what he’s here for. 

~Very no nonsense. Doesn’t care if they party or do dumb things, people do that. But Papa does NOT tolerate horrible behavior. Papa does not want his child to ever slack, be ignorant, or do terrible things with no consequence. And trust me, he is not afraid to deal out punishments to fit the crime. 

~Will laugh if his small child sasses his younger brother, Seestor, of his father. Makes him smile every time! 

Papa III:

~ Honestly, no one expected him to take to father hood so easily. Mainly because the history of the Emeritus family and his life style. But Papa LOVES his child and will everything for them! Whatever they want, they will get and MORE!

~Like his big brother, his goal is just to not be like his father. He wants any child he makes to feel loved and accepted no matter what. Papa knows he will never be a perfect dad, but he’s going to try his best!!

~Learned the hard way not to carry infants or toddlers while wearing designer clothes. They will get messy. Actually, he is never fully able to change diapers or clean up sickness. He has nannies and staff for that. 

~He is the happiest if his child grows up and WANTS to leave the Clergy. Papa loves his him and his mission by Lucifer, but he wants his child to know the freedom he never had. Would fully pay any tuition, rent, or expenses if that meant they could live their lives the way THEY wanted. 

Papa IV: 

~Swings wildly between firm mentor figure and embarrassingly proud dad. Yes, Copia wants his child to have a good work ethic and the best education the Clergy can by... but he’s so damn proud. 

~Absolutely %100 carries around baby pictures where ever he goes. Even though he has a ton of pictures on his phone, he also has one of those extra long accordion photo albums in his wallet.  

~No accomplishment is too small, and all will be praised by him. Alternatively, failure happens and he is good at pointing out that failure HAPPENS but it does not make his child any less. Copia likes to use losing or failing as a teaching moment to make his heir stronger. 

~Copia is mushy and sentimental, but he does NOT tolerate his children not trying. He doesn’t care if they want to be the next Papa/Mama or just go work at McDonalds forever, he just wants them to TRY. There is absolutely no slacking allowed. Breaks, yes. Doing nothing? Never. 

[phykios]

honesty and promise me part 9, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

He doesn’t text her later. He doesn’t text her for two weeks. On day fifteen of no contact from Percy, Annabeth begins to accept that whatever they had might be over now. 

That’s alright, she reminds herself. She had been working up to breaking it off with him for a while, and he just went ahead and did it for her. Saves her the trouble, really. 

October rolls on, wet and cold, inching ever closer to Halloween, and Annabeth finds herself seeking refuge at Piper’s, lending her body and her skills to help her friend finish her collection before her self-imposed deadline. At least the work provides a nice distraction from her silent phone--when Percy stopped texting her, Thalia did, too. Well. That’s that, she supposes.

Still, the fact that they were never officially dating doesn’t stop Annabeth from scrolling through his Instagram at 2 AM like some pathetic ex-girlfriend, screenshotting all her favorite photos so she can look at them later without the threat of accidentally liking them. He’s been posting a lot of stills from that fucking music video again, the divinely crafted muscles of his body on full display in cool, blue light, brown cheekbone and jawline sharper than ever. Beyonce herself even liked a few of them. 

God damn she’s a fucking idiot. 

It must be the self-pity that’s making her crazy, because when Luke calls her up to be his date/eye candy to some fancy semi-costumed party that weekend at an art gallery on the Lower East Side, she agrees without even thinking about it.

The gallery isn’t that far (certainly much, much closer than the Lincoln Center) but Annabeth has not worn heels in probably up to a calendar year, and she just cannot make herself walk that far. She will not. Her tiny-ass cross-body bag isn’t big enough to hold a separate pair of walking shoes. So she ponies up the exorbitant cab fare to the Lower East Side, asking the driver to drop her at the Seward Park Library so she can elegantly sashay down the sidewalk with the rest of the rich and glamorous. 

No one spares her a second glance, which is both relieving and strangely disheartening. She’s become too used to turning heads, she thinks.

Well. One head in particular.

“Hey, Annabeth!” Luke appears from thin air, dressed immaculately as always. His sandy hair has come a long way since business school, now tamed and laid perfectly, but with the faintest touch of dishevelment, like he couldn’t completely fix it after someone’s hands had been all over it. He looks even more handsome than he had on her birthday. He kisses her on the cheek, right on the sensitive skin of an old, failed piercing, and she shivers. “You look incredible.” 

Before she left Piper’s apartment that day, Annabeth had raided her small stash of designer clothes and had rediscovered her old faithful that Piper had tried to bury, the midi-length Valentino dress she had worn to the unveiling of her and Leo’s collaboration. It’s a light, powder blue, which can’t be helped, but the lace collar and three-quarter sleeves cover most of her tattoos. She had dug out her tiara, too, making herself a low-key Halloween costume out of the spring season dress. Though the dress doesn’t fit like it did a year ago, Which is depressing as all hell. “Thanks. You, too.”

He beams at her, holding out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Who did you say was the artist, again?” she asks, taking it.

“I didn’t. Something with an ‘L,’ I think. Levelle? Levique? I don’t remember.”

The white gallery walls have been draped in shades of inky blue and midnight purple, all the better to see the crystal sculptures on display: beautiful renderings of swords and skulls, deadly weapons and human bones. There’s something mind-numbingly obvious about holding a spooky, macabre-themed gallery show on Halloween night, entitled “Death and Riches,” but she has to admit, the artwork is stunning. The crystals take what little light is cast from the weak ceiling lamps and multiply it, casting the dark velvets in rainbow reflections. Annabeth feels like she’s walking through the night sky, like she could reach out and rearrange the stars in the constellations. “Look at this,” she murmurs to Luke, stopping them in front of a sculpture of an ancient cavalry sword. “This is incredible.”

He grunts. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Annabeth fixes him with a look. “‘Cool’? Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a rock.”

She shakes her head. “You are wasted on an art gallery.”

“I am,” he agrees, swiftly. “I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my bosses.”

“What do you mean?”

Luke steers her away from the sculpture, moving them onward. “One of our assistant executives, he’s about to close a huge deal with some big wig from Europe who runs this massive import/export, but before everything is made official, he wanted to meet all of us.”

“Why here, though?”

“He’s in town for this gallery opening; the artist is his niece, or something.”

Ugh. This is why she swore off business bros: always an ulterior motive with these people. “Hey, I’m going to go look for something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he waves her off.

Annabeth, teetering on her towering heels, has to make her way against the current of the crowd towards the refreshments table along the edge of the wall. She feels ten pounds lighter without all the metal in her face, her center of gravity completely out of whack--not to mention she’s having trouble seeing with all this hair in her face. To better disguise her undercut, she had brushed all her hair over her head in one big, voluminous side ponytail on the wrong side of her face. It’s disorienting, to say the least.

Her stomach roils at the display of food, even as her mouth waters a little bit at the bruschetta with olive tapenade. Rather than risk it, she decides to just go with a glass of sparkling cider. She’s been feeling sick and anxious all day long, dreading every moment of this gala; the last thing she wants to do is exacerbate it with champagne. 

Before she makes her way back to Luke’s side, however, she wants to take another look at the actual art. Or at least find out who the actual artist is. Whoever they are, they are phenomenally talented. 

“Excuse me,” Annabeth says to the staff member manning the food table. “Do you have any more information about the artist? I’d love to see more of their work.”

“Sure!” she chirps, turning round to grab something off a stack of pamphlets beside her. “You can read more about Ms. Levesque here.”

“Thank you,” says Annabeth, taking the glossy brochure. Levesque. Levesque Levesque Levesque. She knows that name, she’s sure of it. Penny in the air… 

Slowly, like she’s walking a labyrinth, she makes her way around the gallery. The booklet has descriptions of each piece of art on display, contexts and histories and prices that make her sweat a little. But by the time she returns to the cavalry sword, her head is swimming--probably from the lack of food--her eyes straining in the dim light. She has completely lost track of Luke. She has completely lost track of the time. Annabeth puts her hand to her head, pressing her fingers against the bone of her forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She jolts at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. The owner of the hand pulls away immediately, holding it up in a placating motion. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Annabeth blinks at the person in front of her. He’s blond, tall, with glasses and a scar on his upper lip, and she cannot shake the bone-deep feeling that she’s seen him before. 

“You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down?” he asks, electric blue eyes shining with concern. 

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’m okay, just a little… the light, you know. Makes it hard to read.”

“I know how you feel,” he says, nodding sagely. “The lighting setup here is absolute murder on my glasses.” Then he sticks out his hand, proud and jutting. “I’m Jason.”

Furiously, she blinks away unbidden tears, turning her sudden sob into a light laugh at the thought of the last time she had met someone named Jason. Or, someone she thought had been named Jason. “Annabeth.” His grip is firm and congenial, like a senator. “Are you with Mercury Exchange, too?”

“Oh, no,” he says, “I’m just here to support the artist. She’s my cousin.”

“Well, congratulations to your cousin on a beautiful gallery opening,” says Annabeth, inclining her head with a smile that he returns. “These sculptures are incredible.”

Jason follows her gaze, and when she looks at him again, he’s smiling. The scar gives his smile an adorable edge. “Hazel is very talented.”

Penny drops. “Hazel Levesque?” Annabeth asks. “Your cousin is Hazel Levesque?” 

“Yeah!” Jason beams. “You ever listen to a band called Pluto’s Daughter?”

“You’re Jason Grace?”

That takes him aback, blinking in shock. “Yes… how did you--oh, you know Thalia?” he asks.

No. No no no, this cannot be happening. “Um, not-not really, I just--”

“I just saw her, like, ten minutes ago--”

No no no, she cannot be here, she can’t see Annabeth, not like this-- “Actually,” Annabeth cuts in, “I should really get back to my date, I’m sure he’s worried sick, it was nice meeting you!” And she bolts from the conversation in the general direction of the exit, leaving a very confused member of the cousin consortium in her wake. 

Stupid, so stupid, how did she not look this up beforehand, how did she not put it together sooner? She can’t let anyone see her like this, dolled up and--and downright clean. The crowd has turned into an impenetrable wall, the gaps between patrons too small for her to slip between. The dark walls close in around her, suffocating her, and her panic rises, stomach churning, bile crawling up her throat.

From the crush of people, a hand shoots out to grasp hers, and she jumps a foot in the air. “There you are!” says Luke. “Come on, I want you to meet the big wig.”

“Oh, Luke, I don’t know,” she stammers, “I’m-I’m not feeling very well, I think I had a bad burrito earlier, and--”

“It’ll just take a minute,” he wheedles, “We just gotta show up, make some small talk for a few minutes, then I’ll get you home. Sounds good?” But she can’t resist as he pulls her deeper into the gallery.

Like fucking Moses and the fucking Red Sea, the crowd parts before them, laying out a clear path to the three very well dressed men in the center of the room. Even from behind, she can tell that they’re all related: three copies of the same broad build, the same thick, black hair, peppered with grey, the same radiating aura of power and influence, engaged in deep, important conversation. 

“Mr. Olympianides?” Luke politely interjects. 

As one, the three of them turn to face him, identical gazes sizing them up, pinning them in place. “Yes?” intones the oldest-looking one, his earth-brown eyes cold and dispassionate. 

“I think he means me, brother,” says the middle-looking one, jovial. “You’re with Mercury too, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes, sir,” says Luke, holding out a hand. “Luke Castellan, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Ah, of course!” he says, taking Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard great things about you from Prometheus. I understand I have you to thank for the success of the Saturn deal?”

Luke, wholly in his element, smiles his perfectly practiced sycophantic smile--just the right cocktail of humble and arrogant, gracious and gregarious. You can tell he double majored in theater. “It was no trouble at all, really.” 

Then he turns his gaze to Annabeth, and she just about faints. 

Those eyes. She knows those eyes. Perfectly blue-green, like the waters of the Mediterranean in the sunshine, beneath thick, black eyebrows, with an aquiline nose and a full, salt and pepper beard--she is, without a doubt, looking into the unimaginably handsome face of Percy’s father. 

“May I have the name of your lovely lady?” He takes her hand, bringing it up to his for a kiss. 

Annabeth’s eyes practically bug out of her head. This is what Percy will turn into in twenty years? Good lord.

“This is my…” Luke trails off, sparing her a glance. “This is Annabeth Chase. She’s an architect here in New York. Annabeth, these are the gentlemen I was telling you about: Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus Olympianides.”

Oddly enough, part of her relaxes, even at Luke’s little fib. If Percy’s father is here, then that means that Percy might not be. She would still have to duck Thalia, but if Luke lets her leave within the next few minutes, that shouldn’t be too hard.

“Chase--like the Boston Chases?” the oldest brother asks. She’s seen those dark eyes, as well, lined with black, and sometimes with glitter. 

Annabeth smiles, just a little vacant. She hasn’t had a conversation like this in two years, but back in Boston she’d had them nearly weekly. “That’s the one,” she agrees, letting a giggle out at the end. With business bros her age, they preferred a little bit of a too cool attitude, they’d loved her with all the metal in her face. But the older ones like a giggle. From the corner of her vision, she sees Luke give her just a little bit of a side eye. 

“You’re Randolph’s daughter?” Asks the other brother. His eyes are electric blue. Even if Annabeth hadn’t just met Jason, she’d have known this was Thalia’s father from twenty paces. 

“I’m his niece,” Annabeth says. “Frederick is my father.”

“The middle one?” Percy’s father says, with a little bit of a grin. 

“Yes.” So far, so good--and no one has asked about her mother. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to see that she is not her stepmother’s daughter.

There’s maybe the slightest hint of snideness when Zeus says, “Another Harvard graduate, I assume.”

So there are a lot of Chases at Harvard. On a whim, one night while she should have been writing her Modernism final instead, Annabeth had spent several hours making an academic genealogical chart, inordinately pleased when she found out that her old, decrepit freshman history professor had also taught her father, way back in the day. 

“Guilty,” she titters, “but I did attend Miss Minerva’s here in the city.”

“So your Randolph’s niece,” Thalia’s dad asks again, “And Frey Vanir is married to your aunt.”

“Yes.” She bites down on the “sir.” She’s got to have some standards. 

“Good families,” Nico and Hazel’s father says, nodding at her, “Chases and Vanir.” 

Annabeth has some very, very hazy memories of meeting her own fabulously wealthy extended family, just after her little cousin Magnus had been born. She doesn’t recall much, but she can remember the high, vaulted ceilings of her aunt’s apartment on Commonwealth Avenue, the view of the Public Gardens just down the block, and the very big, very sharp-looking sword hanging above the mantel. The Chases are a well-off family, it’s true, but the Vanir, old money from leftover Nordic peerage are very much on the Olympianides' level, even if Annabeth is the one wearing a tiara that allegedly once belonged to the crown jewels of Sweden. 

Athena Pallas is on that same level, too, but Annabeth would rather run into Thalia then talk about her mother. Especially with these people.

Then Poseidon’s gaze fixes on something behind her, and he breaks into a broad, heartbreakingly familiar grin. “Ah, Percy, there you are!” he calls. 

The smile drops from her face, and her blood freezes. Caught in the gravity well of a black hole, she turns. 

A huge mistake. 

Her only thought is How dare he be so handsome.

He’s in a suit she’s never seen before, crisply pressed, but comfortable, simple black but with pearl cuff links, to match his father’s. The sharp lines of the suit hide his beautiful form beneath them in a way that makes Annabeth understand the appeal of lingerie like she never has before. He looms, back discipline-straight, his face scrubbed clean and eyebrows perfectly shaped, and to cap it all off, a pair of simple, classy diamond studs in his ears. Percy Jackson remains, as always, unfairly gorgeous, the perfect specimen of male beauty, and Annabeth is powerless under his gaze.

And he’s just heard every word of their conversation.

“Percy,” his father says, “have you met Annabeth Chase?”

Percy stares at her, mouth open a little. She watches those eyes take her in from top to bottom, hairstyle to clean face to conservative dress to high heels. Never, ever one to hide his emotions, she can see his inner monologue playing out on his face: shock and awe, bewilderment and confusion, jerkily transitioning to… to a politely blank face. Like the surface of the ocean, the wave of his feelings disappear beneath his skin, leaving no trace that they were ever there. “No,” he says, in a tone that broaches no argument. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever met Annabeth Chase before.”

He takes her in again. Percy was never above leering, but he was always pretty situational about it. He would wait until sex was explicitly on the table, wait until she wanted to see him go just a little bit crazy for her. He doesn’t leer now, cataloguing the dress, the shoes, the tiara.

“Cinderella?” he asks, before the conversation can become awkward and their audience can notice something else.

“Yes,” she says, unable to force the smile she’d used on his father just minutes before. “What girl doesn’t want to be a princess for Halloween?”

“Cinderella was always your favorite, wasn’t she?” Percy’s father asks him. Then he laughs. “Once we went to Disney in Paris, I think, and Percy, all of ten years old, cried because he didn’t think he was going to be able to meet her.” 

Percy’s face stays blank. “I was six, Dad.” 

Annabeth winces, internally. That was the year, he’d told her, that he’d spent in shoes that didn’t fit because his new ones had been destroyed by bullies taunting him over ballet, and he didn’t want to tell his mother because trying to buy him a second pair of shoes would have been a struggle. She wonders if maybe he was crying because he’d spent the day walking around Disneyland in shoes two sizes too small, and no one had noticed.

His father laughs again. “Still,” he says, “Cinderella is your favorite.” 

“I don’t have much use for princesses anymore,” Percy says. “Fairy tales and true love are kid stuff.”

His uncles laugh along with his father, and Luke just frowns at Percy, like he’s not sure what to make of him. But his family seems convinced it's the wisdom of youth.

“Oh,” says Poseidon, “You never know when you can find someone special.” He does leer at Annabeth, just a bit. There isn’t a lot to leer at in this dress, but it's unmistakable. He’s very handsome, but the leer is perhaps the first time she’s thought he didn’t favor his son. 

“Were you the one who dated the princess of what it was called?” Thalia’s father asks. “Or was Triton? Or was it both of you?” 

“No,” Hazel and Nico’s father says, “no, they both dated Atlas’s girl. Right?”

“Yes, Uncle Hades,” Percy says. 

“Zoe?” 

Calypso, Annabeth thinks, just before Percy says it out loud and they all nod. 

“Is she here?” Thalia’s father asks, glancing around. “Or do you have a different date tonight?”

Annabeth hasn’t even considered Percy having a date. But the idea of it causes a wave of nausea to come over her, of a beautiful woman on Percy’s arm, one of his fellow dancers, or perhaps some heiress, who he could take to fancy parties and show off to his father and uncles.

That could have so easily been you, says a voice in the back of her head. 

I’m no one’s arm candy, she wants to yell at herself. 

But she can’t, because she’s literally resting on Luke’s arm, while three powerful businessmen ogle her. 

She breathes through her nose, and tries to keep from throwing up. Or crying. 

“Percy knows its best to come to events like this stag,” Percy’s father winks at him, and then unmistakably at her, “you never know what sorts of lovely creatures you might run into.” 

Percy frowns, clearly uncomfortable. “I think Miss Chase definitely came with her boyfriend.” He nods to Luke, and gives him a smile Annabeth has never seen. So forced and fake and clearly unhappy. 

She wishes she could stop everything and scream at Percy that Luke’s not her boyfriend. That he could never be. That she does not want Luke, not the way she wants Percy. 

But time goes on, and so does Percy. “I don’t like coming to these sorts of things alone, if I can help it.” 

And the world nearly collapses out from under her feet. 

“The buddy system is important.” He turns his head, clearly searching the milling crowd for someone. Annabeth doesn’t follow his gaze. She doesn’t want to see the woman he willingly shows off to his father. She glances at Luke instead. His face is still placid, but she’s known him a long time, in all sorts of states. He’s clearly uncomfortable. 

“Thalia,” Percy’s voice says, not a shout, but a request. Annabeth doesn’t look over at him, or the direction he shouted, but Luke does. He breaks away from her gaze and actually unlinks their arms. His mask slips a little bit more. 

At the last possible second Annabeth looks over too. 

Thalia Grace looks exactly like the Thalia Annabeth has always known. Her hair is slicked down in some old fashioned pin curls, and she’s wearing a cocktail dress and red soled heels that are too big for her, but you can see the tattoos up and down her arms and legs, underneath her ripped fishnets. Her facial piercings are all still in, and her eyebrows and ears are full of safety pins and the necklace around her neck is made of them too. She’s wearing the same beat up leather gloves as always. 

For just a second, Annabeth hates her. Because Thalia is clearly so Thalia, so comfortable in being Thalia, and she can walk around this fucking gala, with buisness bros and old money, and look totally comfortable and confident. 

And Annabeth keeps adjusting her sleeves and hair, worried that somethings going to move wrong, and it's going to become obvious that she’s… something? 

Then their eyes meet, and it's almost as bad as when Percy showed up. Thalia looks lost, and then she glances to Annabeth’s side, at Luke and her face settles into a frown not unlike Percy’s. 

She stops beside Percy who smiles at her, “Thalia and I always use the buddy system.” He says. Then, as he holds out his hand to her, his smile becomes the closest she could ever refer to as cruel. “Thalia, have you met Annabeth Chase? Of the Boston Chases? Her uncle is Frey Vanir.” 

Standing tall, bright eyes ringed in black, Thalia takes in all of Annabeth. She’s done this before, when Annabeth was drunk and crying on a dirty bar floor, with a couple hours old tattoo on her arm and a couple of days old ring in her eyebrow. Annabeth had seen her mother on Wednesday for lunch and had destroyed her life by dinner. She doesn’t really remember what they’d talked about, in the wee hours as Friday became Saturday: not being good enough for your family, how New York took your dreams, chewed them up, and spit them out, how your father would never understand you and your mother would never love you. That sort of thing.

She’d been a gross, pathetic mess. But Thalia had seen something in her that night. Had lifted her off the floor and out the door and eventually onto the mattress in the place she’d been renting weekly at the time. She’d taken Annabeth into her world.

Now, it doesn’t look like she sees anything good in Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases, in designer heels, with a designer bag, wrapped in a designer dress and dripping in jewels. Annabeth knows she looks like a dozen other girls at this event, girls that Luke’s (and maybe Thalia’s and, God, maybe even Percy’s) eyes have wandered over with interest. 

“Miss Chase, despite being from Boston,” Percy says to Thalia, “was mentioning some of the schools she went to in New York. I thought maybe you might have known each other through one.” 

Percy’s face has gone perfectly blank, but Thalia’s… Thalia’s is angry. 

“No,” she says, “we did not go to school together. But Luke and I did.”

It’s Annabeth’s turn to gape, eyes wide as she turns to him, shocked. 

Luke tries to smile. “Yes, we did, but--” 

Thalia doesn’t let him finish. “Are you still sending weekly audition tapes to Lorne Michaels?” she asks, a snarl that only an idiot would mistake for a grin on her face. 

Annabeth would laugh, if she felt like laughing at anything right now.

Luke tries to speak again, but Thalia talks right over him. “No, of course not. You’re doing some business thing.” She eyes his suit and then her three older relatives. “Why else would we be here? I know you never really had the brains for the arts. You were always more interested in the carnal passions of acting.” 

Annabeth actually does laugh, just a bit, both because that’s clearly something Luke had once said (and Annabeth remembered him coming straight out of NYU, a Yankee transplant to Boston, she could totally believe it) and because Thalia got Luke’s cadence and tone down perfectly. 

But it does nothing to relieve the tension. If anything, it's gone up. 

Percy’s father forces his own laugh. “It is so much fun when you run into old friends like this.” He offers, clearly sensing the storm brewing. Percy has at least tried to force it down. “And it's good to see you, as well, Thalia. It's been a long time.” 

“It has, Uncle Poseidon,” She agrees. 

“Mr. Castellan has left the world of acting for our bland business and finance meetings, but are you still acting?”

Thalia goes very still. 

Annabeth, in the two years she’s known Thalia Grace, has never even once heard her so much as allude to acting in anything. She set up equipment and tended bars for cash. The only acting she ever did was pretending not to be hungover. 

It’s a slight movement, but she sees Thalia reach out and grip Percy’s arm. He meets it, holding on. Steadying. 

He understands what’s going on here.

“She’s not,” Thalia’s father says. He’s been polite so far this evening, but now he sounds annoyed. “All that talent and all that promise, and she’s thrown it all away.” He looks at Thalia, electric eyes to electric eyes, and shakes his head. “You could have been just like your mother.” 

Percy, Luke, and Hades all let out a sharp breath. 

Thalia’s smile, sharp, turns acidic. “I can't be,” she says. “I don't drive. So I couldn't drive myself into a tree.”

Her father narrows his gaze, mouth tight. Annabeth has actually seen that look on Thalia’s face before. Poseidon looks suddenly very sorry he ever opened his mouth. 

Thalia turns to Percy. “Do you think Hazel would mind if I committed a murder and ruined her big night?” 

It's a very Thalia thing to say, but Annabeth has never really considered the theatricality of her before. This is an artist working her craft, taking words and turning them into daggers.

“Hazel loves performance art,” Percy says. “And it is on theme.” 

Thalia nods and then looks at her father. She smiles. “That sounds like a lot of work, so, instead, why don’t I do just what you want. I’ll be my mother. I’ll go get fabulously drunk and embarrass you horribly. Unfortunately, this is a 21+ event, so I won’t be able to endanger any children in the process. But you never know.”   

She spins on her heels, and walks away. 

“I'm going to make sure she doesn’t enganger any children just to prove a point,” Percy says. “I'll see you later.” He nods to his family, and then offers Annabeth a very formal handshake. “So nice to meet you.” 

She’s missed his hands on her. She doesn’t want to let go. 

But she lets him, and he moves over to give Luke one, too. He leans in, just a little bit, and lowers his voice so only Luke and Annabeth can hear. “You shouldn’t make a scene in a public place. But you deserve to know, she’s been cheating on you since May.”

Annabeth can’t breathe for a moment. The perfect man, handsome and charming and crueler than she ever believed possible.   

Her stomach rolls again. 

Behind her, she hears Poseidon say, “Do you often tell women whose mothers’ acting career dried up and then descended into substance abuse that you hope they have the same career as said mothers? Because wow."

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispers. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m very sorry.” 

He turns to speak with the three brothers, to formally and probably seamlessly untangle themselves from all of this, and she tries to turn too, but the effort to spin gets too much. 

She’s still nauseous, feeling light-headed. The stiletto heels only add to the problem. She shakes and stumbles, right into Luke, who catches her on one arm, Poseidon on the other. Annabeth has to work very hard not to yank herself away from him. 

“Are you alright?” Poseidon’s accent isn’t the same as Percy’s at all, his hands too smooth. There are differences between the two that she can focus on. 

“I haven’t been feeling well tonight,” she admits, if it will get her out of here faster. 

“Do you need to sit down?” Asks Poseidon. “I’m sure there is a medical professional around here.” 

“No, no, thank you,” she says. “I should probably head out, If that’s okay,” she tells Luke, apologetically.

He nods, finally complying with her need for escape. “Of course.” 

When Poseidon lets go of her arm, she basically falls into Luke. It's embarrassing. Her eighteen year old self is probably cheering. Unfortunately for her, that crush was killed two great heartbreaks ago. Now, it’s just quiet and awkward as they walk away. “Sorry,” she says. 

“Sorry? I should be thanking you. That was a really good excuse.” Then he looks at her--really looks. “It wasn’t an excuse, was it?”

She shakes her head, miserable. 

“Is it because of that guy? Percy? Do you know him?”

She nods.

“Why does he think you’ve been cheating on me since May?”

“Because he thinks you and I are a couple, and I’ve been sleeping with him since May.” 

Luke lets out a low whistle. “You and those business bros.” He shakes his head. Sometimes he doesn’t quite have the self-awareness that he should, she thinks. “I blame myself. If I didn’t invite you to that MBA party, maybe you wouldn’t have lost your virginity to that asshole in my cohort.” 

“Percy’s not a business bro,” she says, defending him, though for the life of her she doesn’t know why. “He’s a ballet dancer with NYCB. It… ended about 3 weeks ago. I’d tell you about it, but I do actually feel pretty horrible.”

Luke frowns at her. “You want me to get you a cab?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I know you have more business bro things to do. I can get myself home.”

He waits several seconds, before giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, wishing her goodnight, leaving her in the middle of the mingling crowd and the crystal displays. 

Annabeth shuffles towards the exit, passing the food table. Even the smell makes her feel like she’s going to throw up. Walking faster doesn’t exactly help. 

Eventually, she manages to get out of the main gallery, where the lobby and coat check had been set up, very much regretting letting Luke go. Right now, walking outside and finding a cab might as well be like attempting a quick little jaunt up Mt. Everest. Head aching, stomach rolling, she slumps against the wall outside the coat check, laying her warm cheek against the cool wall. 

That’s when she hears the muffled shouting. 

Two voices she knows intimately. 

“How can you say that?” Thalia whisper-screams. “In what possible universe are they the same?”

“How are they not?” Percy quietly shouts back. “They’re exactly the same.”

“I can’t even believe you’re defending her. She lied to us--she hurt you, just like--”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me you’re doing this for me. This is about you and your problems. Like always.”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit.” Then comes the telltale clacks of Thalia stomping about in her high heels. She flings open the door of the coat closet, and comes face to face with Annabeth--who probably looks about like death warmed over. Thalia takes one look at Annabeth, sneers, then stalks away, anger sparking off of her like static shock. 

Hot on her heels comes Percy, equally furious. "Then find someone else’s couch to crash on tonight!" He shouts at her retreating form.

Then he sees Annabeth.

She hopes she never has to see him that angry ever again. 

It takes a couple of pounding heartbeats, but he visibly dials it back down, rage giving way to something a little less intense, the bitterness bleeding out of him until he’s only just annoyed. “Oh,” he says. “It’s you.”

There’s a million and one things she wants to tell him; her mind is a hurricane, every thought and feeling moving at a hundred and fifty miles per hour, sentences forming on her tongue in one second and ripped away the next. She wants to tell him that she never meant to hurt him, but all that comes out is, “Luke isn’t my boyfriend.”

“What, he dump you already?”

“We’ve never dated,” she says. “He’s just a friend. I haven’t cheated on anyone.”

“Oh, so you’ll get all dolled up for some guy that isn’t your boyfriend, but you couldn’t be bothered to find a pair of jeans without holes in them to come see my show?”

Her stomach lurches, in both anger and regret. She did do those things. “You told me that you didn’t care what I wore.”

“And I didn’t, because I thought you didn’t either.”

“I don’t!”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you parted your hair on the wrong side? Because you didn’t care if someone would see your undercut?”

She can’t say anything to that, because of course, he had hit the nail on the head. 

“I mean, Thalia may be messed up, but at least she has the guts not to hide it, but you--” he sputters, gesturing angrily to her head, “you put on a tiara and pretend you haven’t been gutter trash for the last two years.”

Indignation rises in her. Gutter trash? “You’re one to talk--you can’t go anywhere nicer than Antonio’s for dinner but you own a custom fucking Italian suit and diamond earrings?”

He scowls. “Oh, I'm sorry, just so we're clear, Kym got me this suit so I would stop, and I quote, 'embarrassing her with my poverty.' I borrowed the earrings from Nico. But you're right. The same Christmas I had my power and heat turned off in Paris, my dad got me these pearl cufflinks.” He raises his hands, brandishing them. “Just what I always wanted!”

“Don’t give me that--the man takes you, his bastard,” she spits, “on the family vacation to the Greek islands every goddamn summer! You think he wouldn’t drop a couple million for you if you asked? Meanwhile, I had to grovel at my mother’s feet for years for even the barest hint of support--”

“That is not even remotely the same thing, and you know it!”

“It isn’t?” She laughs, cruelly. “Because from where I’m standing, we were both left at the mercy of our shitty parents, but you’re too much of a coward to tell your father to fuck off when you really want to.”

That just about sets him off. His eyes darken like sea storms, raging and thunderous. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. You’re the one that lied to me for months, to Thalia for years--Jesus, Annabeth, was any of it real? Was everything you said to me over the last five months just some game to you?”

“How dare you,” she hisses. “How dare you even ask me that when you know full well you’re the only person I’ve shown my designs to in years.”

“Oh, really,” he says, and she goes cold. “What about the one that won the Eta Industries award? Did you not show that to anyone? Or did you get that one because they knew you were Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases.” 

Clenching her fists, she growls, standing up against the wall. “Leo and I put our hearts and souls into that project, and we won, fair and fucking square. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, seeing as you probably only got into NYCB because someone cashed a seven figure check.” 

She doesn’t know if she’s ever said anything she believes less. 

Percy laughs, an ugly, bitter thing. “If it had been that easy, I would have asked him to do that five years ago.”

Then he frowns. “Are you… feeling okay?”

She is not, as a matter of fact, but it’s no longer his fucking business, now is it. Annabeth opens her mouth to tell him so, then abruptly closes it as a little bit of vomit erupts from her esophagus. She covers her mouth, pressing against her teeth, trying to will it back inside. 

Warm hands encircle her shoulders, holding her up as her legs threaten to buckle beneath her. “Come on,” he says, gruffly. 

Together, they stagger into the single-stall bathroom, when Annabeth rips himself from his grasp, dropping to her knees before the toilet, and hurls. Faintly, she hears the lock of the door click behind her, then jumps at the feel of his hand on her back. “Leave me alone,” she spits, hocking bile into the toilet.

He doesn’t answer, only gently repositions her braid behind her shoulder so she doesn’t get any vomit on it. 

She will not admit that his hand on her body is the best she’s felt all day. She will not. 

“Ugh,” she moans, in between bouts of bile. “Fuck me.”

“Jesus, what did you eat?”

Annabeth has barely eaten all day, so it’s mostly sparkling cider and a bit of the olive tapenade from earlier. 

Finally, after several excruciating minutes, it subsides. She feels twenty pounds lighter, like she’s vomited up all of her organs. Now if only she could have barfed up her heart as well. She’s sure Percy can feel how hard it’s beating, just from being around him again. 

When the hell did she let herself get this worked up over a fucking guy, anyway? She hasn’t felt like this since she was nineteen, moping over a missed connection. But she’s not nineteen anymore, she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. She can handle it herself.

“Feeling better?” he asks. 

She coughs, attempting to clear her throat, throwing him a glare over her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.” 

“I said,” she growls, fingers tightening around the bowl of the toilet. “Leave me al--” Her genius retort is, sadly, cut off by another bout of vomiting, so forceful that her tiara comes flying clean off. It would have landed straight into the bowl, were it not for Percy and his lightning reflexes, snatching it out of the air before the crown jewels of Sweden landed in a puddle of barf. 

When she comes back to herself, she realizes that she’s crying. 

The second wave passes, and she can breathe again. Her awareness returns to her in pieces, starting with the pinch in her knees from kneeling on the cold, hard floor for too long, then the cool porcelain of the toilet, oddly soothing against her flushed skin. Her mouth tastes like you’d expect, and she spits, trying to clear it in vain. 

“That’s it,” Percy murmurs behind her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Just let it out.”

Her chest heaves on a sob, quickly disguising it as a cough. Why won’t this man just leave?

When another five or so minutes pass without any more upchuck, she pulls away from him, practically crawling back until she hits the bathroom wall, the floor pressing up against her bones, and she kicks off her heels. Everything is too cold and too hot, Annabeth practically shaking out of her skin, taking in huge, gulping gasps of air. Faintly, she hears the door open and close, softly and carefully. 

Good. He’s gone. 

Her whole body shudders. Stubborn tears force their way out of her, crawling down her cheeks, mixing with the taste of vomit and lipstick. 

But she can’t wallow in it for too long, because a minute later, Percy comes back, crouching down next to her, offering her a plastic cup of water. “Here.”

She takes a swig, swishing it around her mouth. Staggering to her bare feet, she shambles over to the sink, spitting it out. 

There’s no way Annabeth can avoid looking at herself too closely in the mirror, but she tries, her eyes skating over her smeared mascara and running foundation, taking in her (thankfully) vomit free braid and her bare head. “Where,” she coughs. “Where is my tiara?”

“I got it.” In the mirror’s reflection, Percy holds it up. “Wouldn’t want the crown jewels of England to wind up in the toilet.”

“Sweden,” she says, on reflex.

“What?”

Why can’t she just shut her stupid mouth, for God’s sake-- “They were part of the Swedish crown jewels.”

He stares at her in the reflection, his eyes unfathomable. “I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” She asks, a question to which she really doesn’t want to know the answer.

“How I keep letting this happen.” Percy closes his eyes, shaking his head, raising his chin to the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Like this, all the angles and contours of his stupidly beautiful face are thrown in sharp, brutal relief. He looks thin, somehow, the quiet sadness of his expression carved into the lines of his frown, of his squeezed shut eyes and the grim line of his lips. “I thought I was done with letting rich girls fuck me to make a point.”

Funny, how a simple sentence can feel like a knife in the stomach.

Percy, always so tall, slumps his shoulders, running a hand over his face. In seconds, the sadness is gone, replaced with a blank void of expression. “Will you let me call you a cab to take you home?” He asks, because of course, he’d never leave her alone like this. He’s too fucking good.

Annabeth nods into the mirror. 

He sidles up to her, slinging her arm around his shoulder. In his other hand, he carries her shoes and her tiara, dangling limply from his fingers. For a wild second she wants to turn and kiss him. She’s wanted to do that for weeks. She wants to wipe the tears and vomit off her face, stick back on her tiara, and go back to the party on his arm. They could make a beautiful picture, she thinks, Poseidon Olympianides’ son and Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases. But when she tries to move, maybe to make a big mistake, she sways, unsteady. His grip on her waist tightens, holding her close, but his face is turned stubbornly out. He won’t even look at her.

The cool night air and the smell of city dirt is a welcome balm on her flushed face. In no time at all, Percy has hailed a cab, letting her hang off of him as she falls heavily onto the seat. With the utmost care and precision, he gently places her shoes and her crown on her lap, as controlled and careful as when he puts down a fellow dancer. There is no mistake here, she knows. Their little dance together is over. It feels like the end of one of those romantic movies from the 50s her dad used to love to cry over.

“Take her home, please,” he informs the cab driver, giving him her address, then without even sparing her a glance, he closes the door on her.

But greedy for one last look, Annabeth presses her face to the window as the driver pulls away from the curb. The night is dark and the streetlamps are unhelpful, but she can still see him as he cups his hands to his face, glowing like he holds a little star between his fingers, can see him tilt his head up and exhale, sending cigarette smoke up into the heavens.

[trauma-express]

Le Chat Chalet  Car

Le Chat Chalet Car is definitely one of my favorite episodes in general, so I wanted to get into some character analysis, specifically of Simon. This episode gives us insight into his past and reasoning for what he does, but I think it also pretty neatly sets up his flaws and later descent. I also feel like this episode leans into the “cycle of family dysfunction” metaphor that people have noted about this season. Under the readmore for length and images. Not particularly Simon friendly but I try to be fair.

This is a very complicated episode that introduces the dynamic between Simon and Samantha which many people have likened to a dysfunctional mother-son relationship.  I do feel for Simon here, as the Cat did legitimately wrong him by running from the Ghom and never tried to contact him in the 8 years. He is obviously distraught at the idea of being trapped with her for an unknown amount of time, especially as it was unexpected and Simon does not cope well with change or the unexpected.

So while his reaction of lashing out is understandable… it still isn’t that appropriate especially in front of Hazel. As someone who struggles with anger issues, it is hard, but we have to learn to control our first reactions even if they’re understandable. And again, with Hazel being there, showing such anger in front of a child is not great, and Hazel clearly looks nervous at his outburst of yelling and kicking the door. 

She also looks similarly troubled when Simon aggressively grabs the Cat away from her. The Cat is not bothered, but Hazel was enjoying a conversation and has no context for why Simon is so mad. I won’t discuss other episodes too much, but Hazel tells Tuba not to hit him in the Jungle Car, showing that Tuba had made an effort at teaching Hazel emotional regulation, so this kind of anger is probably not something she is used to. 

Hazel is also clearly upset during his outburst, with his punching the wall and clear anger about the events. Again his anger is understandable, but that was not really an appropriate way to respond to a six year old’s question.

I don’t say this to villainize Simon’s anger here, but it shows he does not handle it in an appropriate way, and that only worsens over the season. This is probably due to the fact that he grew up in the Train without proper guidance, but it obviously negatively impacts how he relates to others. Still, I think that at this point, he was genuinely acting out of concern for Hazel at this point in the book, not wanting her to get hurt by the Cat like he was.

Now, onto his interaction with Grace, I will say that in this situation, unlike later in the book, they are both somewhat right and somewhat wrong in their conflict.

Obviously, Grace is going to be frustrated at Simon’s demand to leave when there is a blizzard making that an impossibility. We know she and the Cat also dislike each other, which this episode reminds us about. And it can be inferred throughout the book that Simon leans heavily on her for emotional support. So she is worried about her number, stressed at being stuck with the Cat, and Simon is lashing out because he’s stuck. However, as Simon makes clear, he is also obviously upset at being stuck with the Cat and wanting support from Grace, who knows about his painful history with her leaving him in a bad mental space.

But I think it was a little unfair of Simon to take that out on her during the backstory scene, at which point she was not saying anything, merely standing by him. He suddenly turns on her and even if it is unintentional, it comes off as slightly guilt trippy and trying to hurt her. Obviously, saying things with the intention to be hurtful is not something either of them should do even if they are frustrated with each other, though it can happen in relationships.

However, only Grace apologizes here. Again, she admits she could have been more sensitive as this ordeal was triggering for Simon, so it is not uncalled for. But while Simon offers her support when she confesses her problem, he does not reciprocate the apology. It might have helped if he acknowledged she was stressed out too or apologized for yelling, but he does not. It is not healthy for a relationship where one person’s anger is prioritized and the other is expected to endure the lash outs. Being willing to apologize and take responsibility for your wrongs is important, mental illness or other issues or not. Again, as someone who struggles with anger, I am lucky that people who knew me for a while have been willing to put up with some of my worse moods, but remembering it makes me not want to be that person anymore. 

I think Simon was being completely genuine when he tried to reassure Grace he was always with her. For all his flaws, he is fairly honest (until the denial starts at the end), and is not that manipulative so I think he sincerely believed it when he said it. And it’s kind of him to reassure her over the worries she expresses to him. It shows his difficulty with dealing with other people’s feelings, though he is still being kind.

So essentially, I love this episode because it does a great job showing some of Simon’s most and least sympathetic traits (y’know, barring the murder thing). It also gives us Frank but that’s not relevant.

[luminous-shifting-vibes]

*sequel* to actual fucking quotes from the shiftblr coffeehouse discord server

once again, it's out of context because x1000 funnier

also x1000 longer than previous post

"ur satan is gnc af"

"Bestie I’m already having gender envy over a fucking demon please"

"O_O ODEPIJHFbavevisdpvfhzdcnjawedsidjksjdkoeirjfmkdsoeirujdksodifjndmksoidfjdksidfj ITS" NOT IN MY FRAFTS IS SPEDNT 1 hour PN THAT SHIT"

"AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"ohoho sexy"

"I am very proud of myself"

"himbo x edgy fuck"

"YOU COULD SQUISH HES CHEECKS"

"he has teefs"

"SQUASH"

"good for biting 📷"

"he's a himbo basically"

"B͂̒̄iͫ̍̈tͧ̓ͯè̄̇"

"bifth"

"i havent watched blue exorcist in years but mr okumura my beloved </3"

"MY LIFE QUESTIONS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED"

"is it important information to mention that the person i put up for my turn is the son of satan" "I know like 1 thing about everyone who isnt ranboo lmfao"

"crimes"

"tumblr sexyman"

"idk why but my first thought was cowboy onceler"

"I vibe with him but he is very long and twisty"

"steampunk e-girl"

"steampunk tumblr sexyman"

"Canonically bi crimelord I agree!!"

"OOO FRIEND SHAPED"

"ARTIST SIGHTED"

"they look like someone i would want to be friends with but is way cooler than me so i'd never actually talk to them"

"babby..... would die for him"

"honestly i probably kin him"

"i'm sure he's lovely but he looks way too much like my ex i'm sorry-"

"i'd be down for another rotation! i have another twink to show y'all"

"Also :00 blonde friend"

"Let us all infodhmo"

"Hsjagdvbs shhh im on phone"

"Nix woukd you like to joon?

"skitters away"

"I have two braincells and they both drink dumb bitch juice"

"oof wait whats the order again i have 0 memory"

"i want to bond with him over cosplay-"

"Awkwardly watches in band kid"

"One day I'm gonna a broadway star"

"which isnt to say they were bad. they were just fortnite dancing during rehersals"

"I threw it so hard my glasses flew off and slid under the stage right divider"

"anyway heres my boi"

"emo"

"haha emo"

"virgil sanders kinnie"

"he looks like he listens to my chemical panic at the fallout boy"

"Bro I bet he'd kick my ass with his deck"

"bird man my beloved"

"fuck i had so much to say and then i forgot it all"

"Birds!!"

"guiguhuh"

"crabrave"

"She sounds like someone I would end up stealing her personality"

"yess name collector gang"

"alias glass aiden haven absinthe fish brick rice"

"But I have Cypress, Remure, Genesis, Lemres, and Comet"

"And she's named after a mars candy bar bc alien"

"Hey, if plato went by plato, you can be king thief"

"im not dissing my gramma like that shfojd"

"My dad has seven legal names" "bitches be like *looks at fictional character* *steals their name* it's us we're bithces"

"coraline lowkey traumatized me but i adore it regardless"

"mmmmmm magic man :]"

"°0° green man"

"criminal (affectionate)"

"he would shoplift a candy bar from walmart and then brag to all of his friends about the sick stealing he did"

"despite the fact he's canonically been capable of overpowering a minor deity"

"i would commit so many crimes for him"

"Very babey"

"Yes please tell green man he is very pog"

"he also keeps a lot of dumb secrets"

"but I will sorely miss the chaos and energy of this here chat until I wake again" (by request XD)

"i just say words and if they're funny then they're funny"

"* or extremly chaotic either works"

"at this point we are just taking turns rambling"

"oH--"

"bc my brain has a schedule"

"Hopefully they have gyoza there or I will lose my mind"

"hehe yes spooky man"

"my ghost glucose guardian"

"the head of the undead group that lives there, and we end up dating. (yes I date a ghost, no I will not be taking constructive criticism /lh)"

"ghosts r just inherently sexy"

"i mean im becoming a squid thing so"

"Raven quirk raven quirk!!"

"ł â m p"

"łæmp"

"mothman: ooh lamp you look very nice today! do you come here often? mothman: wait shit no"

"I'd date a ghost"

"mine is still accurate, i am still sobbing (/j)"

"p e e p e e"

""@nick wilde is a tumblr sexyman" is the best thing i have ever seen"

"im sorry im cackling like a dying hyena"

"you're all 12 year olds"

"PEENIE"

"He once caused global warming on accident so he could get a tan"

"god, what a himbo. i love him"

"that reminds me of my friends kin assigned me jesus"

"Man outside of battle be like: princely crying but then in battle hes like: "CATACLYSM! DISASTER! DEVASTATION!" Chill out man"

"Every time I talk about satan it never fails to shock people it's my favorite thing to do"

"im kin assigning him roman sanders" ""Oh yeah he caused global warming because he wanted to get girls" "he what""

"oh damn i forgot satan was straight"

"twink appreciation club"

"give us the twinks"

"my first thought was bottom-"

"so many people to try and get his dad to love him"

"daddy issued"

"OH MY GOD ITS WILBUR"

"Big boy but"

"anyways janus is swagggg"

"........................."

"gib twink"

"give twink then i will share"

"holds him gentle like hamburger"

"This dumb bitch opened a book that said "do not open" and got possessed by a little bastard"

"he is. fragile creachur"

"klug is beauty klug is grace i would let him step on my face"

"If I'm playing swap and I have to hear one more "Pwanet Powew" Im gonna lose it"

"Who is to blame? Pandora or the box?"

"Bakugo isnt my type but I respect the drip"

"i say like my type isnt long-haired pretty boys and girls that look so gnc that people have a history of confusing them for men"

"hes a gremlin and i can appreciate a pretty gremlin"

"that is to say i am attracted to VFlower vocaloid. This is a confession."

"note i am a lesbian"

"You may like Schezo wegey"

"why does he have one single expression"

"soul soul eater passes the vibe check"

"magic wand"

"I Want To Hold His Hand"

"i would commit a war crime for him any war crime idc which one"

"my favorite one is when he sounded rlly gay because he said "Muscular bodies keep me satisfied""

"p e a n u t"

"Klug is a homophobic homosexual its just facts"

"grug from the croods is peak male performance"

"jaw drops to floor, eyes pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets, heart beats out of chest, awooga awooga sound effect, pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out, slams fists on table, rattling any plates, bowls or silverware, whistles loudly, fireworks shoot from top of head, pants loudly as tongue hangs out of mouth, wipes comically large bead of sweat from forehead, clears throat, straightens tie, combs hair Ahem, you look very lovely."

"tag yourself im the fireworks shooting from the top of the head"

"i like essays"

"central time gang"

"11:11 pog-" (wait... is that a suprise angel number?? yes it is lovelies just for you <3)

"Then again im also a dumbass bitch who wonders what the souls in soul eater taste like. SERIOUSLY THOUGH. THEY LOOK TASTY AS HELL!!!! LIKE GODDAMN BRO YOU'RE MAKING ME FUCKING HUNGRY. Like. that shit- it's Bone Apple motherfucking Teeth. hell yea my guy. Im hongy now.... shlorp I'm seriously considering this. Like. They seem kinda like a liquid? But a solid? Are they like jello? The fuck they taste like my guy???? I keep imagining they're like sour, like sour candy maybe? Or do they taste salty? Sweet? Maybe some combo of two? Do they even have a taste or is it about the texture? The sensation? God my mouth is watering what the hell. I am starving. I think I need to go get a cookie. I'm gonna go get a cookie. Brb. I'm better. I'm still craving souls though. Which is a weird-ass cringey thing to say but I'm being dead-ass rn. They just.... look tasty???? And I wanna eat one. Thus. I am shifting to Soul Eater for the express purpose of satisfying my fucking cravings. enjoy"

"points were made"

"jello? more like helloooo schloooAHFJDSDAIDWNALDHSJKDAIDANDM"

"WAIT I THINK I HAVE AN ANIME GIRL BITING VIDEO TOO"

"anime girl voice: mmm! mm... ahhhhmp!! mmm, mmm... aaahmp!"

"i think it sounds great i'm going to start eating like that"

"several people are typing"

"do these look edible to you"

"forbidden gummies"

"when I was on lsd I couldn't eat my fruit gummies because I thought they were alive because they had little faces on them"

"oh shit yeah don't do drugs"

"anyways general consensus is puyos are edible, ty for your input everyone"

"everypony is a word so powerful it can bring nations to its knees"

"pls the self control it's taking me not to say "hewwo everypony" in gen chat when someone new joins-"

"hewwo evewrypony uwu deaw cewestia i hopwe it doewsnt wain owo"

"ive cooked up a sowution wiwth the knowwege ive acwued. they say a kitcwen time saves niwne, but im just savwing two. Ive gathewwed the inwedients to make a time sowbet. Thewe's hawdly woom fow seconds when the seconds mewt away."

"I had a ten year old sister... you know what happened to her??? very sad, very tragic... she turned eleven....."

"NIIICE"

"Guts dont say the secks word :( /j"

"watch your fucking language in front of the president"

"im so sorry lumi"

"i think you're like ehhhh 8/10 funny"

"now me???? 10/10. Hilarious"

"sometimes i have to take a step back and remember that this is the same guts i follow on tumblr /lh"

""ok every here's some good shifting advice!!! uwu have a good day" "yeah i did lsd and ate fruit gummies""

"i have one setting and it's whatever this is"

"my bitch ass cat just pushed the door open with his fuzzy face and now my sleeping dad is being lulled into dreams by Cosmo Sheldrake's 'Pliocine'."

"me on discord: nick wilde"

"me on tumblr: shifting water! haha funne! me on here: my hermit crabs are cannibals also i want to eat souls."

"im sorry yOUR VIBESA RE JUST SO DIFFERNT"

"u give off older cousin ive never spoken to but always admire at the family gatherings vibes"

"what the fuck"

"BC I HAVE LIBERTU"

"If you adopt me then yes"

"am I qualified for dad jokes???"

"we're all a lot smarter on tumblr"

"I'm like "awww... sweet... sweet little shiftlings... posting such sweet shiftling content... so pure, so wholesome... does not even know abcs....""

"can't think before you speak if you never think B)"

"I'm not responsible enough to be a mom"

"cat pet"

"show us pictures of the cat or i will do Crime"

"maybe thats me being a coward tho"

"MOTH!!!! MOTH MY BELOVED"

if y'all want I can make this a series bc shiftblr keeps giving me more content

[taylizmasterpost]

Jake Gyllenhaal and Jealous Liz (October 2010 - February 2011)

Now, there’s a lot to say about Jake and Taylor. The time they got together was a time when he was promoting his movie, Love and Other Drugs, and she was about to drop Speak Now. So at first glance, it look a lot like a traditional PR stunt. However, they do not have a first public meeting -- something that Taylor has with a lot of her other PR relationships (think Calvin at the Fund Fair or Harry at the KCAs), and seemed generally more camera shy. 

Jake’s costar in Love and Other Drugs, Anne Hathaway, was also single at the time, and arguably a PR relationship between the two of them would’ve drummed up significantly more buzz for the film, so stunting with Taylor seems an odd choice.

Jake also reportedly annoyed Taylor with how much he wanted to hide from the press, which is interesting. I’m not totally certain if they were real or not, but I’ll put all of their stuff in here, because it’s interesting to note Liz’s reaction to all of it, despite her relationship:

23 October 2010 - Emma Stone hosts SNL. Both Taylor and Jake G show up to support her, supposedly they’ve already started dating at this point and this was their first public appearance together.

"They walked around together backstage, but they were careful not to be seen too close. It was hard to tell if they were together, but everyone was shocked that she brought him," a source told People magazine.

Notice the lack of public meeting. Strange that they just showed up together dating. 

24 October 2010 - Liz tweets about listening to Never Grow Up

October 2010 - Taylor writes All Too Well, the first of the three “Nashville songs” -- All Too Well, State of Grace, Stay Stay Stay-- that were written for the Red album before she moved to LA, based on the fact that she said she started writing for Red slightly before Speak Now was released.

We also know All Too Well has to have been written in 2010 because what the copyright record for it says:

Now, it seems to me that this is too soon to be about Jake. It’s obviously a breakup song, and Taylor and Jake have only just started dating (unless they had a secret dating history we don’t know about). It would be weird for her to be writing all this about him while they’re still dating.

All Too Well could be about any of the three women I’ve spoken previously about in this masterpost. However, I’m going to try to make the case that this song is for Liz:

All Too Well is Liz’s favorite song from Red. She has said so on multiple occasions. Years later, when she came to watch Taylor’s Reputation tour in Glendale, Taylor even played it for her as the surprise song. Sure, it could just be that Liz is just a fan, but the song fits where we are in the timeline. Liz has moved on with someone else. Taylor is trying to get over it, but she can’t help but think back to the past she remembers “all too well.”

If the song is about a woman, lines like “back before you lost the one real thing you’ve ever known” reads to me as Taylor making a (possibly unfounded) dig at closeting. All Too Well also carries the bad driving metaphor with “almost ran the red,” which runs throughout a lot of the other Liz songs on Red, and which Liz will later reference herself in her own music. The lines in the bridge about “asking for too much” and “running scared,” remind me of Taylor insisting she was single during Valentine’s Day, despite spending it with Liz, only to turn around and miss her once Liz got a boyfriend. Lines about loss of innocence are also interesting, when we think about that L Chat post about Liz from earlier...

Of course, obviously, you can think this song is about whoever you want. If you wanna claim it for JH or Joe Jonas or Taylor Lautner or maybe even some girl Taylor went to high school with, be my guest. I personally don’t buy it being about Emily in a post-Dear John world, and the timeline doesn’t read as Jake to me, so I’m giving it to Liz!

25 October 2010 - Speak Now is released. In the album’s prologue, she specifies that the song “Long Live” is for her band, which is interesting to me, considering that the bridge of the song sounds like it might be about a relationship, and the secret message of the song is “For you,” which sounds oddly specific:

Will you take a moment? Promise me this That you’ll stand by me forever But, if God forbid, fate should step in And force us into a goodbye If you have children someday When they point to the pictures, Please tell ‘em my name

The secret message for Mine is “Toby,” which is the name of the actor who played her love interest during the song, making it make no sense for the song to be about him (and, in my eyes, making it more likely she was trying to cover up who the song was really for). We’ve already discussed Story of Us having “CMT Awards” and Back to December having “Tay,” so I won’t beat you over the head with those.

Unlike the original handwritten lyrics to Sparks Fly, which featured the lyric “Get me with those brown eyes, baby,” the version that Taylor put on the Speak Now album had the lyric “hit me with those green eyes, baby,” with the eye color presumably being changed because Liz has green eyes:

The secret message for Sparks Fly is “Portland, Oregon,” which is where Taylor and The Agency covered Tom Petty’s song American Girl in May 2009 during the height of early TayLiz. 

26 October 2010 - Taylor and Jake are spotted together in Brooklyn getting lunch with Emma Stone:

Liz does a sound check for Taylor for the Today Show. A video later gets posted on YouTube and someone leaves this comment noting Taylor and Liz’s chemistry:

31 October 2010 - Taylor and Jake are spotted in Big Sur together and stay at California’s Post Inn Ranch. 

Liz spends Halloween with her boyfriend:

1 November 2010 - Taylor’s appearance on Ellen airs. Ellen asks her about Jake. Taylor says “I’m always optimistic about love. Yes, always, sometimes.”

2 November 2010 - Taylor and Jake are spotted in Santa Barbara together. They get ice cream, interact with fans, and Taylor reportedly laughs at everything Jake says.

16 November 2010 -  Jake attends the Love and Other Drugs premiere alone. This is interesting to me, considering if this was a PR relationship you would’ve thought he’d bring Taylor as his date. Still, Paula made some weird decisions in her time as Taylor’s publicist (like putting her with a carousel of 18 year olds), so this could just be Paula thinking that Taylor showing up at the premiere with him would be too obviously read as a stunt. Doesn’t rule it either way. Still, I think Anne would’ve been a better choice for PR for this.

Mid November - Perez Hilton alleges that Jake has picked up Taylor on his private jet to fly her to London because she was “feeling lonely.” Jake was in London promoting Love and Other Drugs so this seems very stunty to me personally.

22 November 2010 - Taylor attends the American Music Awards and wins Favorite Female Country Artist.

Liz tweets congratulations at her and seems generally excited.

24 November 2010 - Love and Other Drugs is officially released in theaters.

25 November 2010 - Taylor and Jake spend Thanksgiving in Brooklyn with Jake’s family.

26 November 2010 - Liz seems to have spent Thanksgiving with Jason:

27 November 2010 - Taylor and Jake are spotted in a coffee house in Nashville:

And, maybe in response, Liz makes this weird and vaguely jealous Tweet:

Now, I don’t know what this means. Maybe the “you” refers to Liz and she’s having what Carly Rae Jepsen would call “boy problems” -- feeling torn and overburdened between a best friend and boyfriend:

Or, perhaps, the “you” in this Tweet refers to Taylor, and Liz is trying to say that Jake is “using her up,” maybe meaning taking up her time. Or maybe Liz wasn’t referring to any of this. We can’t really know. Still, it’s interesting.

29 November 2010 - TayLiz hang out and Liz tweets about it. Perhaps to make up for the lack of time spent together since they both got boyfriends.

30 November 2010 - Taylor and Jake have coffee in Nashville:

1 December 2010 - Taylor writes a MySpace post about the CMTs.

Liz tweets about watching Glee, meaning she’s the one who got Taylor hooked on the show and therefore interested in Dianna. Hilarious.

2 December 2010 - Taylor calls Love and Other Drugs a “good movie” when asked about it, and won’t say anything more. She also adamantly refuses to talk about her personal life (This gives me 2018/19 Joe vibes, whatever that means).

3 December 2010 - Liz tweets that her favorite song on Speak Now is Last Kiss. She also tweets at Jason about his cooking:

5 December 2010 - Jake is asked about Taylor and says this:

“One of the greatest parts about being in a relationship is the intimacy you share, but it can be difficult if you’re being watched the whole time.”

This reminds me so much of what Taylor’s currently saying about Joe. Interesting, looking back on it.

7 December 2010 - Jake and Taylor do the “maple latte” pap walk stunt in Brooklyn with Maggie and her daughter. This is the only series of photos of them that I think was a set-up, but that means it’s pretty gross this is the one they chose to bring a child into:

I think the reason this was so obviously a pap walk was to get the “maple latte” in the shot. I’ve already speculated that Taylor had written All Too Well prior to her relationship with Jake, and this stunty pap walk would make sense if she needed to use him to cover for it.

8 December 2010 - Liz makes another weird vague possibly jealous tweet:

Now, in the context of Mine possibly being about Liz and Taylor saying that song is about her “tendency to run from love,” it’s possible Liz is shading Taylor’s pap walk with Jake the previous day. This tweet feels very “back before you lost the one real thing you’ve ever known.”

However, maybe she’s just really happy with Jason. I don’t know. I don’t know these people.

9 December 2010 - Taylor and Jake drive around LA, Jake yells at the paps.

Compare these to those photos with Taylor Lautner earlier in the timeline. These are not nearly as staged. Take away from that whatever you will.

13 December 2010 - Taylor turns 21. Liz and Caitlin bring her a pizza. Liz tweets at Taylor that she’s changed her life. This is supposedly the birthday that Jake didn’t show up to that The Moment I Knew is about. Liz and Caitlin bringing her pizza if she’s sad about it would make sense...

31 December 2010 - Taylor and Liz spotted together in Nashville. They get Pei Wei and JustJared calls Liz a “gal pal.” Taylor seems upset, possibly about her whole Jake birthday thing. Or possibly something else.

Liz tweets about going for a run and listening to Speak Now:

5 January 2011 - Taylor and Jake break up.

19 January 2011 - Taylor and Jake are spotted together by fans in Nashville, first at a coffee shop and then at dinner. Jake did not have any other business in Nashville, so it can be assumed he came there to talk to Taylor:

CONCLUSION: Were Taylor and Jake real? I don’t know. They really only ever did that one pap walk and didn’t seem to publicly promote each other’s work, as far as I could find, despite both releasing projects while together. The one pap walk they did seems to maybe have been to cover for All Too Well, which had possibly already been written (likely about Liz) before Jake and Taylor started dating.

Were those tweets from Liz jealousy? Or am I reading too much into it?

Either way, Taylor’s had her fun, and now it’s time to maybe start thinking about getting back together with Liz. There’s just one problem: her boyfriend.

The Speak Now Tour Begins (February 2011 - May 2011)

[bigbrotherlouis]

✨✨

hello lovely!! if it’s okay with you, i’m going to do a scene from the latest chapter of tried to keep myself from hurting bc i am proud of that one a lot!

Mitch tips forward again, determined to try again, and get stopped by the press of Dylan’s palm to his forehead.

“Mitch,” Dylan says, his voice shot through with something. “What are you doing?”

He blinks at him. “What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” (i really went into this last chapter not wanting to do an happy ever after. like, yeah, they’re going to end on a positive bc i like those kinds of stories, but i didn’t want everything to be fixed by talking to each other. they still have stuff they have to work out, and i wanted it to be realistic)

There’s a pause. “Okay, fuck this,” he mumbles and shoves carefully at him, enough so Mitch tumbles back and he can stand. It’s a weird sense of deja vu, sprawled on the ground, watching Dylan fix himself up after rejecting him again. (parallels!) It aches in a way Mitch didn’t know still ached. He swallows hard.

“Where are you going?”

“Hotel.”

“Why?”

“I’m not doing this shit,” he says and pulls out his phone, tapping at it too quickly. (they both try to solve things mostly by ignoring them, and this is dylan doing that) His hands are shaking slightly. Mitch swallows again, the taste of Dylan still on his tongue, and his throat way too dry.

“Are you, uh,” he says, still aching. “Are you breaking up with me.” (this maybe was a little too obvious for mitch to ask straight up, but i think it made sense in context. the last time dylan did this, they broke up. it’s reasonable for him to think that history’s repeating itself)

That gets Dylan’s attention; he glances up from his phone to stare at him. “What? No.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Yes,” Dylan says and then frowns. “No. I don’t know.”

“Okay, then why are you leaving?”

“Why are you trying to blow me on the sofa?” (i never know how to refer to blowjobs. it’s awkward for me every time.)

“Getting you to the bedroom seemed like too much work,” he says, too honest and too unthinking. Dylan levels a look at him. (this is less supposed to be flippancy and more supposed to be mitch not thinking. his brain’s busy trying to think through what’s happening)

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

He shrugs his shoulder. “You looked like you needed a blowjob,” he mutters and makes a face, nothing left in him to keep it away. (mitch in this fic has a history of trying to fix things with sex and this was him trying to fix the weirdness between them, or manage dylan’s mood)

Dylan stares at him some more and then sighs. “Just— hold on for a second.”

Mitch watches as he turns around and disappears in the direction of the kitchen, holding his breath until he reappears with another protein bar. He drops it on Mitch’s stomach.

“Eat that.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Take a fucking bite, Marner.” Mitch obediently unwraps it and takes a bite, chewing quickly. (more managing) “You told me that you wanted to gargle bleach.”

“Huh?”

“Every time you suck a dick, you said you want to gargle bleach,” Dylan says and then nods at the protein bar. “For the taste.” (i really tried to make dylan attentive and and thoughtful in his own way and this was the culmination of that)

Mitch looks at what’s left in his hand, tastes the mild sweetness on his tongue instead of— well. “Oh. Thanks?”

“Why the fuck did you try to suck my dick?” (very delicate, dylan)

“Why not?”

“Jesus Christ, do you have to play so dumb? Or have you forgotten the massive fight we had about this?”

“I’m an adult, Dylan. I can do what I want.”

“Sure, but what if I didn’t want a blowjob, huh?”

“Dunno, dude, you were enjoying it for a while there,” (trying to balance dylan’s interest as someone who experiences sexual attraction with his refusal to make mitch do something he doesn’t want to do was really hard in this scene! i don’t know if i did it well, honestly, but i sure as hell tried. dylan’s still trying to figure out what boundaries are) Mitch tells him and finishes the rest of the protein bar, feels it settle uncomfortably in his stomach. “You were still mad and I thought it would snap you out of your sulking. I was wrong, apparently.”

“I wasn’t sulking.”

“Oh, yeah you were, bud. Big time.”

Dylan breathes hard for a second. “So, what? You decided to try and suck it out of me?”

“It was working until you got pissy.”

“I’m never pissy.” (they’re still young and dumb)

Mitch snorts, pushing himself into a better sitting position. “Sure.” Dylan looks down at his phone again and then moves, snagging his jacket and looking for his shoes. “Shit, wait, you’re still leaving?”

“I— yeah?”

“Because I tried to hook up with you? You, my boyfriend?” (mitch is also trying to figure out boundaries!)

“I’m still mad at you and I don’t want you throwing yourself at me as, like, some weird omega thing.”

“Weird omega thing,” Mitch repeats, testing the words against his teeth. (unapologetically one of my favourite phrases) “Okay.”

“You’re telling me it’s not?”

“I’m telling you that I’m an adult who makes my own decisions and I can do what I want.”

“Fine,” Dylan says and looks at him head on, eyes keen and sharp. “Did you want that?” (i really wanted to show dylan changing and learning through this fic and this is one of the ways i hoped it showed!)

“I wanted you to be in a better mood.”

“Not what I asked.” (okay, maybe it’s a bit much to ask hockey players in their early twenties to understand the nuance between wanting sex and wanting the outcome of sex, but it was an important point to make to the reader, in my eyes)

Mitch tries again. “You wanted it.”

“Also not what I asked,” Dylan tells him. Mitch thinks about it for a second and then drops his shoulders, sighing.

“I mean, does it matter?”

“Does it— of course it fucking matters, Mitchell. What the fuck.”

“You’re upset, I can make you feel better, it’s what I’m supposed to do. (something something we live in a society) So it doesn’t matter,” he explains, watching emotions cross over Dylan’s face too fast to catch fully. Dylan seems to settle on a determined sort of anger, mouth pressed into a tight line.

“Listen to me, no, listen. I don’t— I don’t care about the whole fucking omega thing, okay? I really don’t. I’m trying to care less about the alpha thing, but it’s me so it’s a little harder. (meaning, it’s really easy to give people grace sometimes while beating yourself up for the same thing. dylan doesn’t care about mitch being a good omega, but desperately cares about being a good alpha) But you? This? I care about you, as my— as my boyfriend, not as my fuckin’— omega, or whatever.” (there’s probably a whole other fic here about what omegas mean in this particular au but i will most likely not be writing it)

“Dylan—”

“Shut up, I’m making a point. I already told you, and I don’t know how many times I’m going to tell you again, but I don’t fucking care that you don’t like sex. You don’t want to have it, so we won’t, and you can stop feeling so fucking gulity about it. I can deal with my own dick and you can just leave it alone. Can you get that into your thick skull, already?”

Mitch is quiet for a second, waiting, but the anger doesn’t fade from Dylan’s face, from his body. “Then why are you so mad?”

“I’m mad because you just do shit instead of talking about it, or, like, asking, and I know I’m not one for talking about feelings, but shit, Mitch, at least I’m not trying to fuck my way into feeling secure.” (could he have said this more delicately? probably. would it have been true to character? no. also it’s nice and succinct, thanks dylan for wrapping that up so neatly)

“Hey,” Mitch says lowly. It’s the only thing he can make himself say.

“You don’t trust me.”

“I trust you.”

“No,” Dylan says. “You don’t. Which, like, it has to be earned n’shit, but that goes both ways, and I can’t trust you if you’re not going to be honest with me. I can’t trust you if I think you’re going to keep bulldozing over your own emotions to make me happy. Or, what you think will make me happy.”

“I don’t want you to—” He cuts himself off because he doesn’t know how to end that sentence, everything muddled in his brain. (this was where i thought about starting the whole “i’m scared you’ll leave me if i don’t want to have sex with you” argument but then decided it was too much for the last chapter) “You liked it, though.”

“Yeah, because I like sex and I think you’re hot, and there was not enough blood in my brain to understand what was happening right away. I’m sorry, though. I should’ve stopped you sooner.” (originally, they weren’t going to get as far as they did with the blowjob but it didn’t work to stop it any sooner, so i kept writing. this is also not an excuse necessarily but again: hockey player)

Mitch’s ass is starting to hurt, so he hauls himself up from the floor to sit on the couch again, twisted around to keep Dylan in his sightline. “I’m sorry too,” he says and tips his head up. “Are you still going to leave.”

“Depends,” he says warily. Mitch digs his fingers into the back cushion and hates the thought of him walking away.

“I’ll keep my hands to myself. (*selena gomez voice* i mean i could by why would i want to) C’mon, Dyl, we’re not going to see each other in forever.”

Dylan visibly hesitates, but eventually he drops his coat again, toes off his shoes, crosses around the sofa to stand in front of him, Mitch twisted the right way around. “Okay, fine, but I want to go to bed. I’m tired.”

“It’s still early,” Mitch says, just to be difficult. He’s tired too, bone-weary from the game and from the rest of the night, and he gives over his hands so Dylan can pull him up. (it’s about the hand touching!! the intimacy!!)

anyway this was a tricky scene to balance while being respectful of 1) where characters currently are 2) where they used to be and 3) where i wanted them to end up. so mitch defaulting to sex to make dylan feel better and dylan letting him fulfills point 2, dylan stopping them but only after he realises fulfills point 1, and agreeing to talk fulfills point 3! not sure if it was executed well re: motivations and reactions, but i definitely did my best :)