#and the first time he meets python they get in an argument and python holds a knife to his throat

[fated-normal-767]

Sometimes a family is just two insane programmers with weird homosexual connections to several people and their terrifying pacifist daughter .

iris is not a programmer but this is otherwise entirely true. I don’t think anyone actually knows what iris’ job is. I certainly don’t remember. He’s definitely sold drugs before but I don’t remember if that’s actually his job. I don’t think iris knows how computers work at all.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Nie Huaisang is the cutest thing monsters have ever seen, they can be yao dragons or giant turtles one look at nhs and they want to feed hug or kidnapt him nmj trainning involved recovering his baby brother from every monsters nest around qinge

ao3

“I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue said, his teeth gritted together and his arms shaking from the strain of holding Baxia up. “He’s mine.”

The massive tiger glared down at him over Baxia’s blade, currently stuck in its teeth, and growled something.

“I know,” Nie Mingjue said. His legs were shaking now, too. “I know, trust me, I know! I’m human, he’s – young, yes, yes, I know. But he’s my little brother! I’m not giving him up!”

The tiger spat out the blade, knocking Nie Mingjue backwards on his ass.

“And when you change your mind?” the tiger demanded. “Will you abandon him then?”

“No!” Nie Mingjue exclaimed. “Never! He’s my brother!”

“Mark your words,” the tiger said ominously. “Or else.”

It turned and stalked off, its tail waving arrogantly in the air, until its towering white form disappeared into the distance.

Nie Mingjue sighed in relief. “Huaisang?” he called, and a small head popped out of the nest the tiger had started building, blinking owlishly at him. “Come on, come to da-ge. It’s time to go home.”

“But Master Tiger said we were going to play…”

“Yes, well, he wanted to play for too long,” Nie Mingjue said. “Only a few centuries, give or take. Let’s go.”

-

It started back when Nie Huaisang was born.

No, more accurately, it started when Nie Mingjue’s father fell in love with someone he probably oughtn’t have, which according to the sect was not a terribly uncommon problem for him to have, and decided to bring home a bride.

Nie Mingjue could still remember the first time he’d seen the Second Madame Nie. They’d all been lined up to greet her, all the sect and close members of the clan in rows according to rank, Nie Mingjue fidgeting in the inside of the house proper in his first tangle with formal clothing outside of the discussion conferences. She had come sweeping in with her head held as high as a princess, seductive and bewitching.

Every movement had been perfect, the eyes of all the men fogging over in lust and the women in admiration – or visa versa, depending on their personal preferences – and a wicked smile had lit up her face when she had stepped across the threshold, officially becoming the sect leader’s wife, and maybe everything would have gone along with whatever plan she’d had back then if she hadn’t next seen him.

“Oh, look at you,” she exclaimed, rushing over to pinch Nie Mingjue’s cheeks between her hands. “What a delectable little morsel you are!”

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said, staring up at her with big round somewhat-worried eyes.

“You charming little dumpling,” she said. “You adorable mouthful of meat! Spoonful of egg yolk!”

Nie Mingjue cast his eyes around to see if anyone would be willing to help him.

“My eldest son,” Nie Mingjue’s father said, not without pride – albeit perhaps a puzzled sort of pride. “He’s probably just about old enough to come to the forecourt, if you don’t want him to live with you –”

“Oh no,” she said. “He’s definitely living with me.”

And so she stayed, and Nie Mingjue stayed with her, and she doted on him in a way he found pleasant if mildly disconcerting. Within a year, she was pregnant, and irritated with it; six months after that, she was round and complaining, even though Nie Mingjue solemnly assured her that she was as beautiful as ever.

“This is your fault, you know,” she told him, and he blinked at her. “It is! Don’t get me wrong, your father’s a charming bull when he wants to be, and of course he fucks like a champion stud, but I stayed here for you, my little cabbage roll, my charming chunk of liver.”

She patted her belly.

“That means this here is all because of you. So you’d better take responsibility!”

Nie Mingjue considered the issue for a little. The argument seemed plausible, so he raised his hands and put them on her rounded stomach. “I will take care and watch over him for all my life,” he vowed, and the baby inside kicked his hand in response, sealing the pact.

“Oh you are so cute,” she said, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “My darling pork bun! My little fish cake! I could eat you right up, if only you were just a little bit older!”

When Nie Huaisang was born, she disappeared in a welter of blood, but Nie Mingjue’s oath remained.

The trouble started after that.

-

“You can’t raise a cub like that properly,” the winged lion argued, bating its wings as if that would help it make its point better.

Nie Mingjue glared at him. “Watch me!”

“It’s for your own good, little human. He needs his own kind –”

“I’m not listening to a treasure-seeker!”

The lion scowled at him. “I’ll have you know that most humans think I’m good luck!”

“You’re not trying to steal most humans’ little brothers, are you?!”

The winged lion sighed, a deep sound, so very noble and long-suffering that Nie Mingjue couldn’t resist the urge to lift his foot and kick the lion right in the paw.

“Brat!”

“Don’t care!” he shouted. “You leave my brother alone! He’s my responsibility, not yours! Piss off!”

“You can’t even feed him properly -”

“I’ll figure it out!” Nie Mingjue bared his teeth and wished he was old enough for a saber.

“You little…fine. Fine! I’ll bring you a book on how to feed a huli jing kit, and you keep to it, you hear me?”

“I will,” Nie Mingjue said. “But don’t you even think of taking him away!”

“On your own head be it,” the winged lion grumbled. “Not everyone’s as understanding as me.”

-

“Why are you wet?” Nie Mingjue’s father asked him.

“Water monkeys,” Nie Mingjue said shortly. “There was a nest.”

“Water monkeys? Don’t they normally stay away from people…? Or, I suppose, were these ones feral?”

“Thieves.”

“Ah. Well, nothing to be done about it, I suppose…bad luck for you to run into them here, of all places. But good experience! How many people your age can say that they fought water monkeys?”

“Can we go home?” Nie Mingjue asked, a little plaintively, and rubbed his nose. “How much can you really have to say to the Jiang sect, anyway?”

His father chuckled. “More than either of us would like, unfortunately. But if you’ve had enough of water, which no one can blame you for, maybe you and Huaisang can go shopping in the pier instead?”

That would work, Nie Mingjue thought, and nodded happily.

(Sect Leader Jiang was extremely embarrassed about the ghostly rats in the night-market – he claimed they’d never seen neither nose nor tail of them before the Nie brothers had accidentally tripped over their trap and had to flee from the swarm...)

-

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nie-er-gongzi,” the white-clad cultivator from the mountain said, smiling broadly and saluting deeply.

Xiao Xingchen had made himself famous during his first half-dozen night-hunts alone for his extraordinary grace, bearing and strength, and he said he was on a mission to help the world. He was beautiful, virtuous, and matched each ideal of gentlemanly arts.

Sects throughout the cultivation world were drooling at the thought of enticing him to join them, fighting for the opportunity to put in a good word with him.

Not all sects.

Nie Mingjue stepped forward, purposely putting Nie Huaisang behind him.

“Don’t you even think about it,” he said, hand on the hilt of his saber. “Buzz off, birdbrain.”

Xiao Xingchen might wear white, but Nie Mingjue knew a zhuque chick when he saw one.

-

“I found something for my aviary, da-ge!” Nie Huaisang, seven years old and delighted with his clumsy autonomy, announced.

Nie Mingjue, less than a full year into his new role as sect leader, rubbed his eyes. “Oh?” he asked, only somewhat wanting to scream endlessly into the void, which was better than usual. “That’s nice, Huaisang…”

“Come look! It’s so pretty!”

“I’m a bit busy –”

“But da-ge!”

Nie Mingjue sighed and got up, following Nie Huaisang to the door only to come to a complete stop.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he said to the fenghuang currently pretending to be a rooster in a cage, as if anyone would actually mistake phoenix flames for regular feathers. “Do you have no dignity left?!”

-

“You can’t adopt the bashe,” Nie Mingjue said to Nie Huaisang, who pouted. “It eats elephants; we’d be broke within three months.”

He turned to the giant python.

“You can’t adopt Huaisang,” he said. “I will literally murder you.”

-

“Why can’t I go watch the eclipse?” Nie Huaisang complained. “Everyone else is going!”

“I’m not risking a tiangou.”

“The…dog that eats the sun? Really, da-ge, is that even real?”

“You know what,” Nie Mingjue said, “you’re grounded just for saying that.”

Nie Huaisang grinned.

-

“Maybe I want to go and live among the qilin!” Nie Huaisang screamed, fourteen and hormonal about it.

“Well you don’t get a choice!” Nie Mingjue bellowed back.

“You’re not my father! I don’t have to listen to what you say!”

“I’m your fucking sect leader and yes you do!”

“I hate you!”

“I don’t care if you hate me! You still aren’t going to go live in a field with some magic pointy deer and that’s final!”

The qilin herd wisely chose to withdraw.

-

“Da-ge,” Jin Guangyao hissed, and Nie Mingjue looked up from his work at him – he hadn’t heard Meng Yao this upset since he’d shoved him into a closet to get him out of way during the whole dangkang boar hunt debacle. “Da-ge, there’s a dragon outside.”

“Again?” Nie Mingjue said, standing up to stretch and feeling oddly unbalanced. They’d just finished another session with the song of Clarity, so he really shouldn’t be feeling like this; he would need to write to Lan Xichen again about his fears that the treatment really wasn’t working. Lan Xichen would probably only say to give it more time, another chance, but still… “Let me go talk to them. Dragons are the worst.”

“No, da-ge, you don’t understand,” Jin Guangyao said. “It’s not a water-serpent or – or even a jiaolong – it’s a dragon.”

“A flood-dragon is a type of dragon,” Nie Mingjue said, following Jin Guangyao outside. “You know that, it’s in the name, what’s the big – oh, I see. It’s a celestial dragon.”

Jin Guangyao glared at him with an expression suggesting that he was under-reacting, but Nie Mingjue really didn’t have the capacity in him to reach with appropriate fervor at the moment. He and Nie Huaisang had been fighting a lot recently, every little thing escalating into a giant argument, and he was no longer sure if he was doing the right thing in trying to force Nie Huaisang onto the path of his ancestors. After all, unlike Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang had – somewhat different ancestors, on his maternal side.

And, he supposed, Nie Huaisang was old enough to decide otherwise, if he truly wished…

Still, Nie Mingjue was as stubborn as a mule and had no intention of giving up his baby brother without a fight, so he braced himself and went over to the frankly massive creature draped over the entrance gateway and much of the training yard that the entirety of the Nie sect was doing its utmost best to pretend that they weren’t seeing.

Nie Huaisang was sitting on the thing’s five claws – an imperial celestial dragon, apparently – because of course he was.

“Excuse me,” Nie Mingjue called up to the dragon, which turned its head to regard him, an entire production that took nearly a quarter ké to accomplish. “The brat there is mine, please return him.”

“Da-ge!” Jin Guangyao hissed again, but Nie Mingjue waved him away.

“You have raised him well,” the dragon said, which was…a good deal nicer than most of these interactions usually went.

“…thanks?” Nie Mingjue said suspiciously, ignoring Jin Guangyao’s splutters of “It talks?!” “I think?”

“I have chosen to grant you a boon,” the dragon announced.

“…right,” Nie Mingjue said. “If this ‘boon’ is that you’ll take him off my hands, I’m afraid I’m going to have to refuse. He may be trouble, but he’s still my brother.”

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, indignant. “Don’t be rude. I asked him for this!”

Nie Mingjue frowned at him, unable to resist the feeling of hurt even though he’d already told himself to expect something like this. “…you want to leave?”

“No, da-ge, don’t be ridiculous. I asked him to improve your health!”

Ah.

“Huaisang –” he started to say.

“Don’t you ‘Huaisang’ me!” his little brother shouted. “I know you’re trying to hide it, but it’s getting worse, isn’t it? San-ge told me so! He said I should get ready!”

Nie Mingjue made a mental note to strangle Jin Guangyao, who had no right to say something like that to Nie Huaisang even if maybe it wasn’t the worst idea in the world to emotionally prepare Nie Huaisang for the upcoming bereavement and inheritance he would need to face.

“Anyway, he said to get ready, so I did!”

“You can’t just ask a divine dragon to fix me, Huaisang. That’s not how this works.”

“Uh, it totally does, and I did, and he agreed. So there!”

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms and glared. “And what did he want in return?”

“The boon is a reward for your past merit, not a trade for the deeds of the future,” the dragon said, not even slightly hiding how its whiskers were shaking with suppressed laughter. “You have travelled a difficult road, and borne the weight of it well. And besides…”

“Besides?”

“If you were to die, he would undoubtedly petition the creatures of the underworld to return you.”

“Well, fuck,” Nie Mingjue said, having not considered that. “Fine. Whatever. Heal me and I’ll try to keep an eye on my health going forward.”

Maybe more Clarity? He could try to free up his schedule, get in a few more sessions…

“I just give up,” Jin Guangyao said behind him. “I just fucking give up.”

Nie Mingjue, assuming that he was talking about Nie Huaisang’s nonsense, agreed whole-heartedly.

[haec-est-fides]

Hi, can we discuss how -- however he was influenced by Gaea -- Octavian was likely very familiar with the Triumvirate? It’s subtle, but it shows up most clearly in the way he talks.

(Personally, I think Octavian might have been raised by one of the Imperial Households, but you could just read it as him being in contact with the Triumvirate for a significant amount of time.)

The most glaring red flag imo is that we learn from Rachel (in Hidden Oracle) that the Greek / Roman parley in House of Hades was held on property owned by Nero. This is more important than the fact that Octavian was merely funded by Triumvirate Holdings, because a) it makes an in-person meeting more likely and b) Luke was also funded by the Triumvirate and he doesn’t have the same connection that I’m seeing in Octavian.

Looking back to the parley scene, Octavian goes so far as to mock Rachel by saying, “You’re the Oracle of Delphi? Right. And I’m the Emperor Nero.” It may feel like a throwaway line, but it’s foreshadowing, plain and simple. In universe, I’m almost entirely certain that the reason Octavian says Nero and not Augustus (his namesake, as he loves reminding people) is that he’d recently talked to Nero and knows whose building they’re on. It’s like a Freudian slip -- and it’s just the tip of the iceberg, because Octavian slips up like that a lot.

Let’s start small: Octavian tends to speak in a rather dramatic, formal way. (He says “alas” in ordinary conversation, for instance.) He’s intentionally dramatic and somewhat sarcastic at times, sure, but I think it goes deeper than that. {I bring up one of my headcanons here, but it isn’t the crux of the whole argument. Bear with me.} I find it likely that Octavian learned Latin as his first language -- namely from the fact that his family has been sending kids to Camp Jupiter for over a century and his attachment to the idea of being a true / traditional Roman -- which would have an impact on how he speaks English. It would make sense, then, that his English speech patterns are similar to those of other native Latin speakers -- like the Triumvirate.

Trials of Apollo shows us that the triumvirs also tend to use more formal English, such as avoiding contractions and using what we might consider to be dated terms and phrasings (though this certainly isn’t a hard rule). Again, I don’t think it’s really conscious, but rather a byproduct of being native Latin speakers. In Hidden Oracle, for example, Nero says (to Apollo), “My own forefather does not recognize me?” I’d consider both his use of the word “forefather” and his avoidance of “doesn’t” to be a concise example of what I’m talking about.

It’s also true that few other characters use “alas” like Octavian does. In Heroes of Olympus, it’s only gods / titans / monsters who use the word “alas” (besides Octavian). In Trials of Apollo, it’s actually Apollo himself who uses that word the most (though remember, he’s also the narrator). He says “alas” 5 times in Hidden Oracle and ups it to 12 in Dark Prophecy. Do I need to keep counting? Beyond Apollo’s narration, Macro, Medea, and Caligula all say “alas” at least once in Burning Maze. All of these characters speak ancient languages, and half of them are native Latin speakers. I’ll admit that maybe it isn’t wholly a Latin thing, but there’s still a case for Octavian speaking in a way that could have been influenced by the emperors and their entourages.

Moving a step beyond nitpick, the connection between Octavian and the Triumvirate can also be seen in what Octavian says and the words he uses throughout Heroes of Olympus. We can split the analysis into 3 ideological themes, really: loyal Romans, immortality, and the future.

In Son of Neptune, Octavian calls himself a “loyal Roman” in a conversation with Percy. It’s rhetoric, a succinct yet subtle way to express Octavian’s ideology / self-conception / political striving, and that’s exactly the point. Later, in Blood of Olympus, Michael Kahale criticizes the people that Octavian is recruiting into the legion, calling them murderers, thieves, and traitors. Octavian, on the other hand, calls them “loyal demigods” -- again, fully aware of the rhetoric of that statement. Bryce Lawrence, one of said recruits, calls himself a “loyal Roman” too in order to appeal to Octavian and be permitted to rejoin the legion after his exile.

The reason this recurring “loyal Roman” motif strikes me is that it’s eerily similar ideology and phrasing to something Nero says in Hidden Oracle. Apollo asks, “The other two emperors. Who are they?” and Nero responds, “Good Romans -- men who, like me, have the willpower to do what is needed.” A line from Caligula’s speech before battle in Tyrant’s Tomb echoes the same sentiment: “It’s time to be true Romans!” In Tower of Nero, Nero also talks about bringing back “traditional Roman values”.

Apollo hits the nail on the head with his commentary: “The fact that Nero -- a man who had killed his own mother -- was talking about defending traditional Roman values...that was just about the most Roman thing I could imagine.” The whole point in all of these cases is that the men talking know that the modifiers they use are 100% oratorical, are dog whistles to those who think the same way and near gaslighting to those who don’t. These modifiers -- “loyal”, “good”, “true”, “traditional” -- mean something entirely different to the person saying them than they do to the heroes / average person! That’s a fascinating and complex parallel.

Immortality comes up in similarly echoed ways, showing that Octavian and the Triumvirate seem to be on the same page, coming from the same viewpoint, thinking alike. In Son of Neptune, what Octavian says to Mars is interesting especially in light of the Triumvirate. Mars, explaining the danger posed by the open Doors of Death, asks the gathered legion, “Can you imagine a world in which no one dies -- ever?” Octavian, despite his showy deference, interrupts the god, “But, ah, mighty all-powerful Lord Mars, if we can’t die, isn’t that a good thing? If we can stay alive indefinitely--” Octavian isn’t outright stupid, so I doubt he’s entirely thinking through what he says here. Of course it would be bad for one’s enemies to never die, but if you consider Octavian to be the type to be tempted by immortality? His interruption seems more in character and more likely if he has immortals or even aspirations to immortality in mind at the time.

In Blood of Olympus, Reyna’s vision of the Roman war-camp gives more weight to what I’ll call the immortality hypothesis. She notes Octavian’s “gilded chair that looked suspiciously like a throne”, how his new title of Pontifex Maximus elevates him “almost to the level of emperor”, and of course there’s the altar: “a marble altar....no doubt for the gods. But to Reyna it looked like an altar to Octavian himself.” In Hidden Oracle, it comes up several times -- even from Nero himself -- that the Triumvirate turned the ancient Imperial Cult into something powerful, something that could make them immortal. The Imperial Cult, at its simplest, looked a lot like what Octavian is doing in Reyna’s vision. Whether the Triumvirate told Octavian to do any of this, he got the idea from them, or he came up with it on his own, it’s another sign of similar thinking, at the very least.

Finally, the future -- which, of course, is bound to come up often where an augur is concerned, but I’m thinking of one line in particular. In Blood of Olympus, Octavian tells Michael about his plans, blatantly admitting that he’s aiming to declare himself “First Citizen” like his ancestor Augustus. (That title is princeps in Latin, and it’s an imperial title all three of the triumvirs use.) His Augustan lineage, which makes Octavian a legacy of Apollo from the same bloodline source that both Nero and Caligula get that status from, is another puzzle piece. Octavian is open about his heritage, his family is recognized as wealthy and powerful in New Rome and yet is never present there, and the Triumvirate seems unlikely to lose track of their relatives. Even so, what Octavian tells Michael next is a less speculative tie: “We will rule the future.” This is, specifically, the way Apollo frames the threat posed by the Triumvirate throughout Trials of Apollo once he becomes aware of their plan regarding Python and the oracles. A lot of that description comes after Apollo hears something Nero says to Python: “When we control all four Oracles, we will control fate itself!”

I suppose a facetious TL;DR might be that if you told me that Nero (canonically the best orator in the Greco-Roman Riordanverse) had been giving Octavian (canonically the best orator at Camp Jupiter) lessons in oratory or that Caligula had taken Octavian under his wing and every Tuesday they talked about world domination over coffee, I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

Maybe this post is more of a Rorschach inkblot test for myself and how I read these books. Maybe I’m trying to read way too deeply. Whatever the case, I think that there’s something more to be said about Octavian and the Triumvirate than funding, and no one has been saying it.

[unless-otherwise-stated]

TSCOSI Mini-Bang Fic 3 Release

A Perfectly Normal Totally Typical Cafe

The Rumor Cafe is opening on Milky Way and the crew was not prepared. As they struggle with maintaining and running the cafe due to their unexpected influx of customers, they look to hire. Enter Violet Liu, she needs a job so she goes in for an interview with her extensive resume. Violet gets hired and starts working at The Rumor, but she soon finds that The Rumor and its staff may be hiding more than meets the eye.

@tscosi-minibang

Written by:

Rayan - @unless-otherwise-stated

Beta read by:

Vi - @starshipviolet

Hec - @drumkonwords

Coming to AO3 soon!

Read Chapter One below the cut.

Chapter One

The Rumor Cafe had been open for an hour and the coffee machine was on fire. Krejjh was still serving coffee, the line in front of the counter stretched across the crowded store and out it. They juggled coffee cups between their four hands filling up cups and shuffling the order papers. Brian is huddled in the corner by the order receivers and trying to write down as many orders as he can. And though Brian is a linguist, studying languages isn’t going to do you much when fifty different people are telling you their orders, about five of which may have asked you a question. At this point, he was writing down as much as he could make out before frantically moving the order papers to the basket by Krejjh.

As soon as Krejjh had finished an order they would speedwalk over to the pickup counter and leave them for Arkady or Sana to deliver them to the customer. Sana was currently in a seemingly one-sided argument with a customer that kept insisting that “if this is a coffee shop why isn’t there a bowling alley?”

“Sir, I apologize for any disappointment, but we don’t have a bowling al—” Sana tried to reason with him, but he interrupted her.

“Okay, okay. Maybe the bowling alley was a stretch, but you at least have a giant python that grew legs giving out tango lessons.”

Sana was prepared to commit many crimes.

Arkady was left to wait the tables by herself, she would sprint to the counter, balancing as many drinks as she could safely carry on her tray and a few more. She would then blindly sprint out into the customer crowd shuffling the order papers, trying to figure out which drink goes where while dodging the mildly annoyed and confused customers.

All in all, despite their short-handedness and heightened probability of many accidents (and crimes), they were managing the flow of customers. That is, until the staff of the other coffee shop across the street, If Gnomes Ran, decided to pop in and check out the new (temporary) competition.

If Gnomes Ran was your classic ‘Large Corporation-Run “Local’’ Coffee Shop’. They worked under In Good Running (IGR for short), which also owned I Give Rup, I Gave Ryouallmymoneywhatelsedoyouwant, and I Got Radishes, a grocery store, clothing store and pharmaceutical respectively. The most important thing to know about them is that if you see them do anything morally wrong or illegal, no you didn’t.

It was in this rush that the employees of If Gnomes Ran entered the coffee store, skipping everyone else who was waiting in line to enter and orderly shuffling in through the door. Worker McCabe was left to hold the door open for all of them. What the staff of If Gnomes Ran didn’t see while scouting out the shop was Arkady sprinting right towards them carrying her tray filled to the brim with drinks and pastries. In fact, neither Arkady nor any of the recent visitors saw each other. And so, as Arkady was attempting to find table five she instead ran right into the entire group of visiting foreign employees.

The entire shop turned silent and turned to look at the group of sharply dressed If Gnomes Ran employees soaked and covered in many different kinds of coffee and pastries. A few of the customers didn’t notice and continued chatting for a few seconds before noticing the sudden silence and becoming quiet themselves.

The crackling of the coffee machine fire stood out against the shocked silence and it was only then that Brian realized that the coffee machine was on fire. He bolted over to Krejjh and motioned wildly at the coffee machine, completely silent as to not disturb whatever was currently happening. Krejjh was still frantically completing orders as Brian rushed over to the nearby fire extinguisher and put out the fire. There may have been a bit of foam in the orders Krejjh was making at the time.

Arkady looked up from the order papers she was still holding and stared blankly at the steadily glaring group of soaked If Gnomes Ran staff. Sana rushed over, steadily apologizing and rushing to hand them all towels, but the collective group simply turned and walked right back out of the door.

The coffee shop was silent and the closing door rang the bell and knocked slightly against its frame. Sana and Arkady were still stood right where they were as Krejjh continued pumping out orders and Brian tried to access the damage caused by the fire. Many of the customers were shuffling around silently trying to leave as to not get caught up in any issues with In Good Standing. One of the customers stubbornly waiting for their order coughed slightly, while not a loud cough by any means it stood out against the silence.

The cough seemed to bring Arkady back to the situation and she hurried over to the fallen mugs and pastries and began to clean up. Sana rested the towels she intended to give to the If Gnomes Ran staff on a nearby counter and knelt down beside Arkady to help. This broke the silence in the coffee shop and the chatter rose up from the customers once again. Brian abandoned his station taking orders to quickly deliver the orders steadily piling up on the counter. Krejjh had run out of space and was now attempting to precariously balance orders on top of each other.

The crew served the considerably reduced amount of customers left after the incident before beginning to close the shop early. Arkady and Sana returned the extra chairs and tables they’d brought out and straightened out the original tables and chairs. Brian and Krejjh were cleaning up the counters and general area around the coffee machines while discussing the dangers of fire and physics. After they’d restored The Rumor to its original, clean and orderly, state, they all sat around in the staff breakroom to discuss today’s events.

“So…” Sana began sitting at the head of the table, “That didn’t go as…planned, I suppose… but this is only the first day, and it was clearly an accident. The most we can do at this point is attempt to make amends with If Gnomes Ran and just continue with our plan.”

“This isn’t just any business we’re talking about here, Boss,” Arkady states simply from the other side of the rectangular table. “This is the IGR, everyone knows what they’re capable of.” The group sat silent around the table contemplating the possible repercussions from today’s incident, the only sound being the soft sounds of commotion from outside leaking in through the window.

“There’s nothing we can do about that. All we can hope is that whatever the IGR decides to do, it won’t interfere with our primary mission.” Sana says steadily, looking everyone in the eyes. “But something I think we can all agree on, if we’re going to continue this we’re going to need a few extra hands.”

“Not unless the IGR shuts us down,” Arkady mumbles under her breath.

“We could always put out a sign in the window and a few other flyers and ads, we just need to make sure we don’t…attract the wrong people,” Brian suggests.

“I could make the flyer!” Krejjh says enthusiastically, raising two of their hands.

“Arkady brings up a point,” Sana declares with a slight tone of finalization, “if business continues at these levels we’ll put out an ad for employment and we’ll see who applies.” She smiles at everyone and stands up from her chair, “until then, we’ll see how it goes.”

Everyone else follows suit and stands up from their chairs shuffling around and gathering their belongings preparing to head home. Arkady lingers by the table.

Brian waits by the door, arms covered in coats, sweaters and handbags. After a minute Krejjh walks up to him and takes their stuff from him.

“Bye!” They say as they follow Brian out the door. Brian manages to empty one of his hands and waves goodbye.

Arkady turns to Sana and asks, “do you need me to close up the shop?”

“Oh, no, you go ahead, I’ll close up myself,” Sana smiles. Arkady lingers for a second more before hesitantly leaving. Sana walks around turning off all the lights and watching the beams of noon sunlight sneak through the cracks in the window blinds. Although it had been a short one, it had been quite a day. She walked out the door and locked it behind her, strolling into the lunch crowd, and mentally preparing for a nap and an important phone call that she’d been expecting.

The next day a sign was put up in the window of The Rumor. Written in large, flowing letters in shiny dark purple ink, it sat in the window declaring to the street: NOW HIRING :), and below the main text in smaller printed letters in dark blue ink it added: apply at therumor.com/hiring. Many other signs and flyers were seen around the street and a few were spotted in further places in the city. It would be much harder for the If Gnomes Ran employees to ignore them than to acknowledge them. And so they did acknowledge them officially, in their company required daily logs.

More To Come Soon!

[eponymous-rose]

Today’s good things!

1. There was a really great and unexpected little smackdown of That Guy On The Faculty at a meeting today---he asked a Very Leading Question about how awful diversity initiatives are and the expert guest he asked just blandly and immediately shut him down. He seemed startled but accepted the strong argument with good enough grace. I’m sure we’ll get another incensed e-mail to the whole faculty this weekend, but this little victory was very satisfying in a schadenfreude sort of way.

2. The mountains were beautiful today. The combo of a low sun + no clouds + snow on the peaks was stunning. I walked a few extra bus stops out of my way just to stop and stare.

3. My local 7-11 occasionally gets these weird snacks coming in that I think might be test products? I buy them on the rare occasions I encounter them because they are just consistently the weirdest-ass candy I’ve ever encountered. Today’s entry was ��3D gummi candy cupcakes”, which have the strangest texture and an alarming sheen on them. I have never seen a candy that looked more like a plastic fridge magnet. Tasty, though! Better than the white-chocolate-and-pop-rocks monstrosity they had out last time (nb: I will absolutely eat that again; it was so terrible it went all the way back around to amazing).

4. Heard from my co-instructor of this quarter’s class that this is the first time in her years of teaching this unit that the students have managed to independently import data and create plots of it without her holding their hands all the way through. So apparently my two-week Python crash course did its job! So good to hear, considering I’m expanding that two-week unit into a full class starting at the end of March.

5. Thank you, past me, for actually hanging all the laundry in the closet last night. Waking up to a great selection of clothes and just being able to wear something moderately snazzy was a great way to start the day.

[vagrantblvrd]

Concerning that post about gold cards, imagine Gavin actually being skilled enough and throwing them and just slitting someone's throat with them cause of course that's also a weapon cause fake ah crew is insane

!!! OKAY, SO.

Gavin knowing all the cool card tricks with the shuffling and sleight of hand and whatnot because it looks cool as hell, but also helps with the dexterity and thiefiness of his grubby little thief hands?

(Also, he does the coin tricks too with the rolling them over his knuckles and may or may not roll coins over his knuckles at Ryan after the infamous Coin Argument to be an asshole? Although, you know. Ryan can never prove it, because Gavin always has this set of special coins he keeps on his person at all times because distractions Hitman-style and the aforementioned thiefiness dexterity thing.

But Ryan knows, Gavin, okay. Knows that asshole would totally take one of his coins out and roll them over his knuckles at Ryan being all smug and passive-aggressive and Ryan’s not paranoid, dammit! >:((((((((( but everyone is like, “Uh-huh,” because wow, Ryan. WOW.)

Anyway.

Gavin knows there are a lot of distrustful people out there – hurtful, not being trusted – and when he sits down for these poker games with crew allies/enemies/whoever to make an impression he knows they’re going to want to check the cards are legit, right?

Expect him to be cheating or whatever because suspicious/paranoid and Gavin is like, :D at them and lets them check his gold playing cards over to their heart’s content.

Does some flashy shuffling and all that before he hands them over and again when whatever suspicious  person’s checked his cards over. Wink and a grin and some flashy shuffling/whatever and “Alright then?” before he deals the cards.

And then, friend, AND THEN.

Something goes wrong while they’re playing/discussing the particulars of a new deal or truce or whatever they’re there to do?

That One Asshole who went there with the intent to start a war with the Fakes makes their move, says something unforgivably insulting regarding the Fakes as a whole or refuses to compromise or whatever.

Their goons posturing, because hey look, they have guns and Gavin’s some smooth-talking idiot who clearly isn’t a threat, you know? Has to have the crew’s heavies with him everywhere he goes to protect him and so on because otherwise he’s nothing. (The usual.)

And Ryan or Michael or Jeremy who are leaning against the wall behind Gavin watching all this happen are just.

Watching.

Going off Gavin’s cues because he’s calling the shots here and Gavin hasn’t given them the sign to correct this asshole who’s mouthing off, right?

(Unless this is the scenario in which Gavin is there to rescue one or more of the others and is there alone, in which case he should be easy to deal with, shouldn’t he.)

Gavin looks up from his the cards he’s shuffling, and smiles, all bright and friendly and just taking these insults because this whole poker game/meeting is vital to the Fakes, right?

A deal/arrangement they need for whatever reason -for business reasons or for him to rescue the others, whichever.

He keeps right on smiling as he slips a card from the deck in his hands and holds it up for a moment. Looks at it, the way the light catches it just the tiniest bit differently from the other cards in his gold deck, heavier than the rest, edges sharper, and throws it with a flick of his wrist.

Follows that up with a couple more – shock and surprise around the table because that one asshole who’s been tearing him down has a fucking playing card in his throat. Not enough to kill him, probably, but it makes for a hell of a surprise and Gavin’s a bit outnumbered here isn’t he.

The table gets kicked over and all the dramatics of the chips and cards and drinks and whatever else going flying.

And just.

Lots of Drama and Action and Gavin Gav Slitty-ing things up.

Brushing lint and whatever else off himself when everything’s said and done and sighs as he looks around because he looses more sets of cards this way, you know?

Can’t be bothered to go around picking all the cards up, and anyway, the place is a mess. All that blood and such, and just not worth it in the end.

Also, what a way to make a statement, don’t you think? Gold playing cards scattered about and one lodged in that asshole’s throat and better things to do anyway. (Besides, he can afford it.)

And then, idk, Gavin looking at what other survivors there are and getting quick agreements to whatever  terms he may have at that point or going off to rescue his crew.

Whichever.

If he’s got one of the others with him who have never seen him use his murder cards before he’s just “Oh, didn’t I mention? I had those specially made,” regarding said murder cards.

Like.

The “normal” utterly ridiculous gold playing cards? But also a handful of murder cards that he keeps on his person and slips into the deck once some suspicious asshole has verified the cards are legit?

Lets them poke and prod the cards and when they give them back to him uses that sleight of hand to tuck those murder cards in with the regular ones. So used to handling them all he can keep track of the murder cards while he deals or whatever until he needs them. (And when he doesn’t he just slips them back out of the deck and up his sleeves or wherever he hides them like nothing’s amiss.)

AND.

You know the murder cards would be jokers or the ace or spades because he’s got all these one-liners to toss out with them?

All “joker’s wild,” and “i suppose that’s why they call it the death card” and other things I’m obviously not thinking of right now?

Just.

Utterly ridiculous and probably not practical/possible at all? AND YET. I am leaning so hard on handwavy-handwaving.

Because rule of cool, and stuff. (Also reasons. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

....I cannot help but think of Ryan being all :O and possibly “Oh, no, he’s hot,” the first time he witnesses Gavin put his murder cards to use?

And like.

“Dates” in which Ryan and Gavin go somewhere to throw knives/murder cards that is somehow not a euphemism, although eventually it turns into that and the whole crew Suffers whenever they mention that’s where they’re going and now I’ve turned this into Freewood, oops???

Also/or:

Prior to this Gavin pestering Ryan to teach him how to throw knives and somehow coming up with the idea of murder cards?

Like.

The guards will take his weapons/check him for them before letting him into some of these backroom poker games? But no one expects the murder cards. (When Gavin points that out someone’s “Is that a Monty Python reference?” because lol.)

Anyway.

Gavin has his murder cards made and no one else knows about them until Gavin’s forced to use them and Ryan is like :O  “Oh, no, that’s hot” and has to admit to himself he’s totally got FEELS for Gavin. (And while he can see why people would think it’s tied to the murder cards they’re just a lovely little bonus. Also the thing that made him realize why he’d be all *___________* at seeing Gavin with his murder cards.)

OR maybe they’ve been in a relationship since the whole knife throwing lessons and this is just unfair of Gavin because hot and Ryan would really like to try his hand at Gavin’s murder cards and everything sounds like a euphemism to me this morning, sorry. /o\)

[douchebagbrainwaves]

AND IT TURNS OUT TO HAVE SELFISH ADVANTAGES

We erred ridiculously far on the side while working on Wall Street. But the first is by far the biggest killer of startups that go public is very small. This can work well in technology, at least, that worry will now be out in the open instead of being a good writer than being a good speaker is not merely that it's longer. Shockley. But I don't write to persuade, if only out of habit or politeness. This habit is unconscious, but not smiling. Fundraising is brutal. We constantly have to make decisions about things we don't understand, and more often than not we're wrong.

These are smart people; if the technology was good, they'd have learned to ask that. When we interviewed programmers, the main thing we cared about was what kind of software that makes money and the kind that's interesting to write, and Microsoft's first product was one, in fact, but no rich people. If there is a lot more disagreeing going on, especially measured by the word. So why not go after corruption? The most important thing is not to change anyone's mind, but to reassure people already interested in using Lisp—people who know that Lisp is a computer language, and have a compiler translate it into machine language for you. Making things cheaper is actually a subset of a more general technique: making things easier to use. I heard there were about 20,000. As far as I know, no one of whom really owns it, it will disappear. It let them build great looking online stores literally in minutes. And to engage an audience you have to choose between two theories, prefer the one that doesn't feel mass-produced. Investors like it when you don't need it this month. Painters and writers notoriously do.

Whereas we felt pretty sure that we could sometimes duplicate a new feature within a day or two of a competitor announcing it in a press release. And compared to the facial expressions she was used to. You can work in plain sight and they don't realize the danger. Transposing into our original expression, we get: decreasing economic inequality means taking money from the rich. For a long time it was most of making things easier, but now that the things we could make sites for people who didn't want them to start treating us like actual consultants, and calling us every time they wanted something changed on their site. Something that curtly contradicts one's beliefs can be hard to sell. Building office buildings for technology companies won't get you a job, except perhaps as a classics professor, but it has more potential than they realize. VisiCalc made the Apple II. Our hypothesis was that if we wrote our software in a weird AI language, with a bizarre syntax full of parentheses. The cause must be external. What's special about startup ideas? Any advantage we could get in the way they framed the question.

Inexperienced founders make the same mistake when trying to convince investors of something very uncertain—that their startup will be huge—and convincing anyone of something like that except by implementing your way toward it. Instead of saying that your idea is to make money and maybe be cool, not to be too difficult for programmers used to C. Those companies were apparently willing to establish subsidiaries wherever the experts wanted to live. If you actually want to compress the gap between rich and poor, you have to sit with a teacup of types balanced on your knee and make polite conversation with a strict old aunt of a compiler. Right now the limiting factor on the number of investors just as we're increasing the number of desirable startups will probably grow faster than the percentage they sell to investors shrinks. True, but I don't think many people realize there is a lot of competition for a deal, the number that moves is the valuation and thus the amount invested. It has too many cooks. Whereas the bad firms will get the leftovers, as they do now, and yet you won't use it. If you can't find an actual quote to disagree with the author's tone. We expected the most common complaint you heard about Apple was that their fans admired them too uncritically. And it's not fun for a smart person to work in record stores.

Apple is trying to be a 2 week interruption turns into a 4 month interruption. Cobol is a high-level languages on the other. If they wanted Perl or Python. What was wrong with that? People will pay for? You can work in plain sight and they don't realize the danger. It seemed like selling out. This is the same argument you tend to hear for learning Latin. Whereas we felt pretty sure that we could hold our own in the slightly less competitive business of generating Web sites for art galleries. In fact, it's often better if they're not. But even if you only have one meeting a day with investors, somehow that one meeting will burn up your whole day. You must resist this.

Now Palo Alto is suburbia, but then it was a charming college town with perfect weather and San Francisco only an hour away. One big wave and you're sunk. For example, a politician announcing the cancellation of a government program will not merely say The program is canceled. This process is not just to baldly state the facts. If you're having trouble raising money from them is something that has to work very closely with a program written in a certain language, it might be a great thing. The five languages that Eric Raymond recommends to hackers fall at various points on the power continuum, he doesn't realize he's looking up. That's negligible as corporate revenues go, but the time getting there and back, and the most productive setup is a kind of thinking you do without trying to.

[americangodstalk]

Cultural backgrounds: Anansi

Anansi is a popular folktale character and cultural hero. He is from Ghana, originating from the tales of the Akan people. He quickly got a good place in the Ashanti mythology and his legends spread across all of West Africa, and then into the Caribbean folklore.

Sometimes called Kwaku Anansi, Kompa Nanzi or Nancy, Anansi is described as both a spider (Anansi meaning “spider” in the Akan language) and a humanoid being – his depictions ranging from fully human-looking or completely spider-like to hybrids such as a spider with human face and clothes or a man with eight limbs. He is often described as having a family: he has a wife, that bears different names according to the sources, and several sons (Ntikuma, his first-born son, Tikelenkelen, his big-headed son, Nankonhwea, his son with spindly necks and legs, and Afudohwedohwe, his big bellied son). Some story also tells of Anansewa, the beautiful daughter of Anansi that he tries to wed to the most profitable parties.

Anansi is a famous trickster, renowned for his ruses, his cunning, his talent at making speeches and his skills as an orator. The Akan consider him an Abosom (equivalent to the Yoruba orishas and Vodun loas). The Abosoms are in the Akan spirituality powerful spirits, akin to lesser gods, that helped shape the world and are a link between the mortal, earthly beings and the supreme entity that is Nyame, the Sky Father. Anansi is said to be either the son of Nyame and Asase Ya, the Earth Mother, or merely their servant and messengers. However, Anansi never received any intense worship and his divine nature was never put forward by the Akan, who felt that his role as a cultural figure and folklore hero was much more useful than his religious aspect.

Among the many legends about Anansi, two stick out the most because they each explain one of Anansi’s role in the world.

The first story explains that in the beginning the world was story-less, for all of them were kept in a box by Nyame, the Sky Father. Anansi thought the world was boring and thus went up at the top of the universe to meet with Nyame and ask from him the box of stories. Nyame, impressed that Anansi managed to reach him with his silk strings, agreed to give him the stories in exchange for the capture of extremely dangerous creatures, such as the Python, the Leopard and the Hornets. Anansi managed to capture all these deadly beings through ruses and tricks, and Nyame gave him the box. That is why today Anansi is considered the master of all stories in the world and the patron of storytellers.

The second story says that a long time ago, the clever Anansi craved for more intelligence,and set out on a quest to collect all of the knowledge in the world. Then he put all of this wisdom into a jar (or a calabash) and decided to keep it all for himself. Searching a safe place to hide his treasure, he chose to put it on top of a high tree. He tried several times to climb the tree while holding the jar, or tying it to his belly, to no use. Anansi hadn’t noticed that his son, Ntikuma, had secretly followed him, curious about what his father may be doing. When Ntikuma suddenly shouted at Anansi that to carry the pot all up to the tree, he had to carry it on his back, Anansi got a shock due to the surprise.

Here the story splits in two popular versions. In the first one, Anansi, surprised, let the jar out of his hand, and it crashed on the ground. Immediately, a storm came and its rain washed all of the world’s wisdom away in the river. Anansi, angry at his son, chased him under the rain until he realized that having all the world’s wisdom was not useful if you still needed the help of a child to do things right, and forgave Ntikuma. The other version rather has Anansi following his son’s advice, and climbing on the top of the tree with the jar, only to conclude the same thing as in the other version. He then threw the jar himself onto the ground, so that the wisdom would be free to spread in the world. This story explains why Anansi isn’t merely considered as a clever and cunning trickster, but also as a “wise” figure and the one who offered knowledge and wisdom to the world. (Some like to claim that the box of stories of Nyame and the jar of wisdom of Anansi are one and the same [1]).

But these are just two of Anansi’s many stories. Another one tells of how he created the first inanimate human body, another speaks of him as the one who brings rain in the mortal world and causes the floods. He is also considered the one who taught human how to plow and sow. A legend says he created the sun, the moon and the stars and thus was responsible for days and nights[2], and another explains that he helped Owia the Sun, youngest son of Nyame, to gain his father’s role as the chief of the world, against his two older brothers Esum the Night and Osrane the Moon, and that for his services Anansi became Nyame’s personal messenger. A last tale explains that when all of the animals in the world fought over who was the oldest, Anansi won the argument because he explained that, when his father died, he had to bury him in his own head, for the earth didn’t exist back then.

Fittingly for Anansi, master of storytelling, his survival and the spread of his popularity across the globe was due to him being part of an oral culture – unwritten traditions and stories that spread from mouth to ear in all of the western African continent before going over to the Caribbean Islands, and then the New World. Indeed, when slaves were brought over from the Caribbean and the African continent to the Americas, they told each other the stories of Anansi – the “anansesem” or “spider tales” in the Ashanti language, a specific genre of tales for children centered around the Spider adventures. Since most of these stories told of a little, weak spider turning the table on powerful oppressors through his cunning and his tricks, Anansi quickly became a symbol of resistance and survival during the slavery era – and telling his tales was a way for the slaves to keep their original identity and culture alive.

However, this transition from the Old World to the New World modified Anansi’s characterization. While in America he became a classical hero to admire, imitate and follow, originally Anansi wasn’t a paragon of moral virtues. He was a flawed character and while his stories often showed him as, indeed, the winner or the survivor of a world turned against him, sometimes Anansi brought unfortunate events upon himself or the world due to his own vices – the “anansesem” were entertaining and instructive, yes, but also a warning against how avarice and selfishness could be our own undoing.  

For example, a story explains how Anansi, supposed to find Nyame a wife among a village of beautiful maidens, decided to take all of them as his own wives without any of them for Nyame, and when the Sky Father “stole back” all of Anansi’s wives for his personal harem, the Spider unleashed all of the sicknesses existing upon the world as a way to get his revenge. Another explains that Anansi one day received meat from Death itself to feed his family. However, upon seeing that Death had endless supplies of meat (for everything living in this world belongs to Death), Anansi became greedy and stole from Death. Death, angry, followed Anansi back to punish him and while the Spider evaded it, he still brought mortality into the world of the living. A last story explains how Anansi announced to all the animals that Gun, the personification of firearms, their deadly archenemy, was dead and invited them to his funeral. What the animals didn’t know was that in fact, Gun wasn’t dead, and Anansi had borrowed him from the Hunter – thus, once all the animals were reunited, Anansi killed them all and then took their bodies to his home so that he may feast on them.

Anansi was included into the Haitan Vodou as a Gede Lwa. The Lwa or Loa, falsely called “gods” of vodou, are powerful spirits forming an in-between stage between the mortal creatures and the supreme being, while the Gede were a specific family of Loa associated with death, the afterlife and funerals. As a Loa Gede, Anansi was supposed to establish or facilitate the link between the living and their deceased ancestors. [3]

[flightfoot]

Apollo’s pretty terrible at reading people’s thoughts and emotions at first, but becomes an expert at it over the course of the books, once he starts dropping his facades

Apollo is only this good at reading people when he actually tries. At first, he often didn’t put in the effort, and just fooled himself into thinking that they were thinking or feeling what he wanted them to be thinking or feeling.

When Apollo meets Meg, he actually thinks about his own people-reading skills.

My highly advanced people-reading skills told me she [Meg] was hiding something, but that was not unusual for demigods. For children blessed with an immortal parent, they were strangely sensitive about their backgrounds. (THO 20-21).

Apollo wants to believe that having a god as a parent is a great blessing, so he doesn’t really choose to think about what kind of life a lot of these demigods lead, what with often being raised by a single parent, getting kicked out of schools, and being hunted by monsters constantly. He doesn’t care to know, so he doesn’t dig and figure it out.

He also misremembers how much he’s helped Percy.

“But Percy Jackson has always been reliable. You have nothing to fear. Besides, he likes me. I taught him everything he knows.” (24)

He’s only really interacted with Percy four times: when picking up the Hunters in Titan’s curse; when disguised as Fred the Hobo; sort of when he made Rachel the Oracle of Delphi; and when he sent Percy to retrieve his wayward Celadon in Singer of Apollo. And Percy was NOT happy with Apollo after Singer of Apollo. But Apollo wants to be partly responsible for Percy’s successes and he wants everyone to like him, so that’s what he remembers.

Speaking of Singer of Apollo, that short story really shows how little he used to listen to others, and how easily he could be fooled into believing that they are thinking and feeling things that are favorable to him.

“we’re kind of off duty, Lord Apollo. It’s Grover’s birthday.”

“Happy birthday!” Apollo said. “I’m so glad you’re taking the day off. That means you two have time to help me with a small problem!”

He’s not really listening to what Percy has to say here. He’s twisting Percy’s words to mean what he WANTS them to mean, and it’s not like Percy can really refuse him, for fear of incineration.

When Percy and Grover get back from retrieving the rogue Celadon, Apollo offers a reward, which Percy declines:

“Well, good job you two! As your reward, you’re invited to watch me perform on Mount Olympus.”

Grover and I glanced at each other. Insulting a god was dangerous, but the last thing I wanted was to hear more music.

“We aren’t worthy,” I lied. “We’d love to, really, but you know, we’d probably explode or something if we heard your godly music at full volume.”

Apollo nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. It might distract from my performance if you exploded. How considerate of you.” He grinned. “Well, I’m off, then. Happy birthday Percy!”

Now apparently people exploding while listening to Apollo’s music IS a serious concern, but Apollo still should have been able to tell that Percy and Grover were actually just looking for an excuse to skip the concert... if he had cared to look more deeply into what they were thinking and feeling. Which he didn’t. He didn’t even care enough to remember that it was Grover’s birthday, not Percy’s. I strongly suspect that if post-TBM Apollo could rewatch his interactions with Percy and Grover during this quest, he’d face-palm at how oblivious he was. Or be tempted to punch himself in the face. Or both.

Back in The Hidden Oracle, he IS actually able to read Percy when he meets up with him a short time later, but dismisses his own reading of Percy’s expression, since it’s not favorable to him.

If I didn’t know how much Percy Jackson adored me, I would have sworn he was about to punch me in my already broken nose. (26)

He does this sort of thing a lot throughout THO and TDP, where he reads people and situations accurately, and then tells himself that that can’t possibly be the case. He mostly stops that by the time TBM rolls around, though.

Apollo gets this reading-accurately-and-then-denying-it thing a lot with Percy especially.

“Well, never fear,” I said. “There are always new opportunities to win fame! That’s why I’ve come to you for help!”

He gave me that confusing expression again: as if he wanted to kick me, when I was sure he was struggling to contain his gratitude. (33)

Apollo just can’t seem to accept Percy’s true thoughts and feelings, so he always just goes with the interpretations that’s most charitable to himself, like when Percy mentions that the Oracle isn’t working:

I swallowed back the taste of fear and seven-layer dip. “I just... I assumed - I hoped this would be taken care of by now.”

“You mean by demigods,” Percy said, “going on a big quest to reclaim the Oracle of Delphi?”

“Exactly!” I knew Percy would understand. “I suppose Chiron just forgot. I’ll remind him when we get to camp and he can dispatch some of you talented fodder - I mean heroes -” (47)

I suppose Apollo’s right in that Percy understands what Apollo means. Percy just isn’t thrilled about it, which Apollo doesn’t seem to realize. Or rather, doesn’t WANT to realize. He desires Percy’s respect and even adoration, so he keeps on fooling himself into thinking he has it.

This self-deception doesn’t hold up for very long. He gets better at reading people pretty quickly - especially Meg, since he doesn’t crave her respect or adoration the same way he desires Percy’s, so he’s more willing to take his own reading of her at face value, rather than trying to fool himself. Plus he knows very little about her, neither does anyone else, and she’s not volunteering much. So if he wants to know more about his new master, he has to become really perceptive and good at getting her to open up.

I glanced at the rings on her middle fingers. “So yesterday... those swords. And don’t do that thing.”

Meg’s eyebrows furrowed. “What thing?”

“That thing where you shut down and refuse to talk. Your face turns to cement.”

She gave me a furious pout. “It does not. I’ve got swords. I fight with them. So what?”

“So it might have been nice to know that earlier, when we were in combat with the plague spirits.”

“You said it yourself: those spirits couldn’t be killed.”

“You’re sidestepping” (THO 133)

A little later in the conversation, he’s able to acquire enough hints from her words and expressions to get an idea of what may be going on:

“I never met my mom.” she said. “I didn’t know who she was.”

“Then where did you get the swords? Your father?”

Meg tore her waffle into tiny pieces. “No... my stepdad raised me. He gave me these rings.”

“Your stepfather. Your stepfather gave you rings that turn into imperial gold swords. What sort of man -”

“A good man,” she snapped.

I noted the steel in Meg’s voice and let the subject rest. I sensed a great tragedy in her past.” (THO 134)

Apollo is able to ask just the right questions to get the hint that something is kinda weird about Meg’s relationship with her stepfather, and to get a hint that something traumatic is involved - and also that pursuing that subject would be bad for his health.

When he and Meg end up in Python’s cave, he’s also able to identify that Meg’s more terrified of the man’s voice, than she is of the giant reptile talking to him:

Next to me, in the glow of the apple, Meg seemed to have turned to bronze. Her eyes were wide with fear. A little late for that, but at least she was quiet. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought the man’s voice terrified her more than the monster’s. (THO 168)

Probably the best, and possibly his most important reading of Meg, was when he was able to identify what sort of manipulation Nero had used on her, to get her to obey him.

“Meg had been trained to regard her kindly stepfather Nero and the terrifying Beast as two separate people. I understood now why she preferred to spend her time in the alleys of New York. I understood why she had such quick mood changes, going from cartwheels to full shutdowns in a matter of seconds. She never knew what might unleash the Beast.

She fixed her eyes on me. Her lips quivered. I could tell she wanted a way out - some eloquent argument that would mollify her stepfather and allow her to follow her conscience. (THO 289- 290).

His ability to read both the situation and Meg is crucial to persuading Meg to fight back against Nero, even if it doesn’t last. Plus, it lets him identify much of the basics of what happened to her, even though he’s not outright told, which is useful in his efforts to help her throw off his brainwashing in later books.

Meg isn’t the only person Apollo can read - far from it. In the Dark Prophecy, he’s able to tell that Leo and Calypso have asked to stay at the Waystation:

“Assuming we live through tomorrow,” I said, “you two intend to remain at the Waystation.”

[...]

“How did you know?” Calypso asked.

“The serious conversations with our hosts?” I said. “The furtive glances?” (291)

He’s also able to persuade some blemmyae to blow up the Cave of Trophonious, and that a 5 second timer counts slower underwater. Blemmyae are stupid though, so that’s not as impressive as it sounds.

Over in The Burning Maze, Apollo’s able to read Jason pretty well, despite only having known him for a few minutes. He’s able to tell that Jason’s hiding something.

“All right,” I said. “What did the Sibyl really tell you?”

[...]

“What makes you think I’m holding back?” he asked.

“Please,” I said. “Don’t try to be evasively prophetic with the god of evasive prophecies.” (211)

Piper seems to have an idea that Jason might still be holding something back, but Apollo acts like he knows for sure, and is able to persuade him to open up.

Later in their conversation, Apollo reads the situation between Jason and Piper REALLY well.

“You would’ve let us lead you cheerily off to your death? How would that have affected Piper’s peace of mind, once she found out?”

Jason’s ears reddened. It struck me just how young he was - no more than seventeen. Older than my mortal form, yes, but not by much. This young man had lost his mother. He had survived the harsh training of Lupa the wolf goddess. He’d grown up with the discipline of the Twelfth legion at Camp Jupiter. He’d fought Titans and Giants. He’d helped save the world at least twice. But by mortal standards, he was barely an adult. He wasn’t old enough to vote or drink.

Despite all his experiences, was it fair of me to expect him to think logically, and consider everyone’s feelings with perfect clarity, while pondering his own death?

I tried to soften my tone. “You don’t want Piper to die. I understand that. She wouldn’t want you to die. But avoiding prophecies never works. And keeping secrets from friends... that really never works. It’ll be our job to face Caligula together, steal that homicidal maniac’s shoes, and get away without any five-letter words that start with D.” (214-215)

Apollo’s social skills here, his ability to read Jason, and knowing just what to say here is really impressive. He may have complained in the past about not being a silver-tongued orator anymore, but I’d argue that his skills there have IMPROVED, not lessened. He just needed to get over some of his self-pity and awkwardness first.

Jason’s not the only one he’s gotten good at reading and giving advice to, though. While on board Caligula’s wardrobe boat, he pressed her about the song she sang, “Life of Illusion”, and what it meant to her. That the way she sang the song, she was talking about herself, and her feelings about Jason. He got her to open up.

“I tried,” she murmured. “After the war with Gaea, I convinced myself everything would be perfect. For a while, a few months maybe, I thought it was. Jason’s great. He’s my closest friend, even more than Annabeth. “But” - she spread her hands - “whatever I thought was there, my happily-ever-after... It just wasn’t.”

I nodded. “Your relationship was born in crisis. Such romances are difficult to sustain once the crisis is over.” (263)

Piper confesses that the major problem she had with their relationship was how she had been manipulated and pressured into it by Hera’s and Aphrodite’s machinations, and how she wanted a chance to figure out who she is and what she wants.

“You’re wondering who you are without all the pressure.” (264)

She’s not even sure if she counts as Cherokee, since Cherokee heritage is matrilineal, and her mother is a Greek goddess, not Cherokee. Apollo has some surprisingly profound and comforting words of wisdom for her:

“It’s been my observation,” I said, “that you humans are more than the sum of your history. You can choose how much of your ancestry to embrace. You can overcome the expectations of your family and your society. What you cannot do, and should never do, is try to be someone other than yourself - Piper McLean.” (265)

Apollo now excels at really listening to people and offering comfort and support. He hasn’t done so in the past, either by choice because he didn’t care, or because he honestly wasn’t as good at reading people and seeing what they needed. But now he’s excellent at it, and I suspect that his skill will only improve. 

Apollo’s also gotten really good at reading situations to manipulate his enemies, like when his party is captured by some pandai while infiltrating Caligula’s ships.

I scanned the deck. No additional guards were running toward us, no searchlights were trained on our position. No horns blared. Somewhere inside the boat, gentle music played - not the sort of soundtrack one might expect during an incursion.

The pandai had not raised a general alarm. Despite their threats, they had not yet killed us. They’d even gone to the trouble of zip-tying Piper’s and Jason’s hands. Why?

I turned to the largest guard “Good sir, are you the panda in charge?”

[...]

I studied his majestic ears, then hazarded an educated guess. “I imagine you hate people eavesdropping on you.”

Amax’s furry black nose twitched. “Why do you say this? What did you hear?”

“Nothing!” I assured him. “But I bet you have to be careful. Always other people, other pandai snooping into your business. That’s - that’s why you haven’t raised an alarm yet. You know we’re important prisoners. You want to keep control of the situation, without anyone else taking credit for your good work.” (241-242)

Apollo used some pretty limited info, managed to arrive at the correct conclusion, and then manipulated the situation to his benefit (though the others started helping at that point). Even Piper could scarcely have done better!

Later in the scene, when Meg is able to fight back, Apollo’s the one who notices that Crest doesn’t want to hurt them, and is able to persuade him to leave.

With a horrified whimper, Crest dropped his bow. He staggered backward, struggling to draw his sword. Meg yanked her first scimitar from Amax’s dust-covered chair and marched toward him.

“Meg, wait!” I said.

She glared at me. “What?”

I tried to raise my hands in a placating gesture, then remembered they were tied behind my back.

“Crest,” I said, “there’s no shame in surrender. You are not a fighter.”

He gulped. “Y-you don’t know me.”

“You’re holding your sword backward,” I pointed out. “So unless you intend to stab yourself...”

He fumbled to correct the situation.

“Fly!” I pleaded. “This doesn’t have to be your fight. Get out of here! Become the musician you want to see in the world!”

He must have heard the earnestness in my voice. He dropped his sword and jumped through the gaping hole in the glass, ear-sailing into the darkness.

“Why’d you let him go?” Meg demanded. “He’ll warn everybody.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Also, it doesn’t matter. We just announced ourselves with a literal thunderbolt.” (252)

Everyone has access to the same info about Crest that Apollo does, and yet Apollo is the one who tries to save Crest, is able to persuade him to retreat, and understands Crest well enough to suspect that he won’t raise the alarm (not that it mattered).

Later on Apollo sees Crest again.

“I think we’re being followed,” I said. “Our friend Crest.”

Piper scanned the night sky. “What do we do about it?”

“I’d recommend nothing,” I said. “If he wanted to attack us or raise the alarm, he could’ve already done it.” (266)

Apollo’s better at reading the situation than Piper is here - probably because he identifies with Crest, music-lover that he is. He’s able to read Crest really well, and make the correct decision. Much like with Meg, reading Crest accurately was key to getting his help later. If Apollo hadn’t been as good as he is, Crest would still be dead, likely murdered by Meg, and Apollo would be gone for good.

Apollo’s people-reading skills have grown so much, from not being able to/not caring to read Percy accurately in The Singer of Apollo, to being able to wheedle out what Jason’s hiding, to giving Piper some excellent support and comfort. I believe that these skills will again prove to be vital in the next book, particularly when meeting Reyna. Nico helped her somewhat, getting her to open up about her father and telling her that she did what she had to do, but they were interrupted before they could really finish their heart-to-heart, and she still hadn’t seemed to have totally come to terms with what happened to her father. I suspect that Apollo will be able “heal her heart”, not by starting a romantic relationship with her, but by helping her put her past to rest and being supportive.  

[irarelypostanything]

Slice of Life[6]

[Andy]

“There have been some increasingly controversial topics in the news,” began Andy, in the milionth meeting they were holding that week, “and I know that not everyone here is in agreement with regard to personal beliefs.  Though there is some merit to discussing these topics, I would encourage you to do so outside of work.

“So please,” he continued, “for the love of the old gods and the new, stop arguing about the last episode of Game of Thrones.”

“It was kind of bullshit though, right?” asked Jake, to murmurs of approval.  

“I haven’t watched it yet,” complained Kevin.

“Spoiler,” said Jake, “it sucked.”

“Jake, please.”

“There was a shocking twist about Tyrion being the Night King.”

“Kevin, Jake may or may not be messing with you.”

“I did think the part where Eddard rose from the dead was a little out of left field, though.”

“Amy, please proceed with your presentation.”

Amy was standing in front of their conference room’s projector.  Her long, dark brown hair was tied into a bun, and her usual Davis badminton jacket was replaced by a white button-up.

“Thanks Andy,” she said, relieved that the meeting was back under control, “as I was saying, this project is worth roughly 25.6 million dollars, collectively.  As is the usual case, the largest defense contractors are going to take the majority of business.

“But this is where things get interesting.  I’m going to have to be intentionally vague about the next portion of this, since we’re in a nonclassified setting, but we have certain...capabilities...that even some of the largest corporations don’t.  Thanks to some wise decisions we made early last year with regard to our research allocations, we are actually the first team we know of that can use...”

Her voice trailed.  “Well, that’s also classified.  But the figures aren’t.  Look at this.”  The slide changed.  “We are poised to become the government’s preferred vendor for the entire sensor, and all we have to do is give them a taste.  They expect delivery within three weeks.  For this to work, all teams have to collaborate perfectly.”

“It’s really important that we execute this now,” agreed Andy, “that means it’s really, vitally important that we not let our meetings diverge into arguments about petty bullshit.

“Kevin, we’d like a status report from you.  What’s the important software issue you said you wanted everyone to know about?”

“I know we were told not to compile on the hardware,” began Kevin, “but unfortunately, with our system, it’s unavoidable.  The time stamps are messed up, so doing basic things like compilation is surprisingly difficult.”

“Why not code it in Python?” suggested Jake.  “that way you won’t need to compile it.”

“Wow,” said Dan, with mock amazement, “switch programming languages.  Brilliant.  This is the kind of empty-headed bullshit that only a hardware engineer would come up with.”

“Right,” Jake retorted, “because messed up time stamps is a hardware issue.  Do you guys also give your system administrators mops, then give your janitors root access?”

“Switching to python actually isn’t a bad idea,” said Ryan, “but there’s a much more obvious solution to this problem.  You can-”

“Hang on,” interrupted Dan, “care to repeat that comment about root access?”

“You guys don’t understand separation of duty,” said Jake.

“You guys don’t understand fuck about fuck,” said Dan.

The next half hour went about as productively as that conversation.

[Nora]

Saturday.  It was a surprisingly clear morning, for San Francisco, and the sun was just starting to rise.  Because it was San Francisco, though, the morning was ice cold.

Nora made her way up the steep trail of Mt. Davidson.  Kevin said he knew every trail and angle at this place, and she believed him.  The park was tiny.  She reached the peak with ease.  She glanced in the direction of the sun, then turned away to look at downtown in the distance.  She could see the bay, and Castro, and a bunch of major downtown buildings until her view reached Sutro Mountain.

She pulled out her cell phone.  “This is boring,” she told Kevin through the speaker.

“Did you know it’s the tallest hill in all of San Francisco?”

“Highest of the seven hills?”

“Sure.”

“What, because of the giant cross?”

“I admit that the giant cross is cheating, but the point still stands.”

“Not sure what the big deal is, to be honest.  I’ve had a more fun time at Bernal Heights, and that place has some pretty good coffee.”

“Giant blue building.”

“What?”

“Find the spot where Balboa is, look a bit to the left, and you’ll see that giant blue building.  It’s a water tower.  We used to sneak up there, forever ago, when we were young.”

“Okay...”

“I used to love this city.  It’s not the same now.  Whenever I came back it was never the same, always a little different.  So I started to come home every month, then every other month.  The last time we spoke, it was my first time back in almost a year.”

“Well, what’s changed?”

“It’s just different.”

Nora looked at the tower, then at Kevin’s high school, then at the water again.  From a distance, it was all tiny.  Like none of it mattered.

“You used to love this city,” asked Nora, “and now you don’t because it’s changed?”

“Exactly.  You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“So you believe that the city you once loved is gone.  I believe that the city you loved never existed.”

“That’s morbid.”

“Seriously, how much of it had you really seen?”

Nora looked again at the view.  “Oh wait, technically you’ve seen quite a bit of it.”

“Technically.”

[Kevin]

Sunday.  Kevin was at a church.  Again.

After another sermon, a middle-aged person named Leo (whom he had met a couple of weeks ago) sought him out.

“Hey Kevin,” he said, “do you know a lot about social media?”

The question hit him with surprise.  Kevin had once been obsessed with social media.

“I know a little bit,” said Kevin, “why do you ask?”

“I’d like to give our church more of an online presence, but it’s all new to me.  What do you know about Facebook groups?”

“Well,” said Kevin, “not too much.  I know that you can pay to have the algorithm favor you, so you get more traffic.  I also know that you can integrate it with Google Analytics, and I believe the algorithm will favor you if you can rack likes or comments in a five-minute window.

“The whole thing is very calculated.  The emojis you use, whether you use GIFs, whether you use tags...all of these are taken into consideration when considering your post placement.”

“That’s all fine and good,” said Leo, “but you don’t sound super enthusiastic right now about Facebook.”

“Have you heard of Life Church?”

“No.”

“It’s a nice resource, it’s an online church, but it’s just a little bit too good.  It’s hard to describe.  It’s ridiculously high quality video, full Facebook integration, professional band.  You can view the likes and comments in real time.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s weird.  All of this is weird to me for some reason.  Doing that kind of thing for a church?  I prefer sites like Medium.  I can harvest so much sweet, sweet data.”

“Are you okay?  You just turned red.”

“You know, I get crazy about this a lot.  I used to be a normal guy.  A couple likes here, a couple likes there.  I started to find forums where I could get 100 likes a post, consistently, and I started to get a presence.  Click, like, share.  Click, like, share.  It’s no way to live, man.  Every second a feeling of wanting judgment, every act of communication a desperate plea to please the algorithm.

“But this one time, this one night I’ll never forget, I put up an article that went #trending.  It got 36,000 Facebook shares.  Pretty okay, sure, but then I found the real analytics.  3 million hits.  3 million people read it, all around the world.”

For a little while, Leo just stood there.  Finally, he spoke again.

“Kevin, I just want to share some videos.”

“Oh, okay.  Have you considered YouTube?”

“What’s that?”

Kevin walked back to his apartment after lunch.  Part of him wished he could be as enthusiastic about church as he was about technology, but there was still something he couldn’t get over.  It was a belief that was fundamental to him for as long as he remembered.  It was a belief that went against everything he had read in every book of the bible.

Kevin didn’t think it mattered what people believed.  All that mattered to him was what people did.

Some Christians donated to the poor, built schools, saved lives.  Some atheists donated to the poor, built schools, saved lives.  Both Christians and non-Christian people had done great things, and horrible things, but so had Muslims.  And Hindu people.  And scientologists, and probably a million other religions.  But no one thought it was okay to believe that your beliefs didn’t matter.  

Kevin wasn’t sure if he believed in everything or nothing.  He figured it was impossible to believe in nothing, because that would mean that he still believed in something.

[Dan]

Monday.  8PM.  Dan was one of the only people in.

It was a long meeting, followed by a crucial lunch meeting, followed by coding, followed by another meeting.  These past few days had been tough on everyone, but Dan sometimes wished he could just hole up, not talk to anyone, and code.

He finally had a few hours to himself.  This was when he felt most productive.

2, he thought.  2, 4, 8, 16…

Dan’s weapon of choice had always been C++.  He knew bitwidths, 56-megabyte proprietary structs, obscure abbreviations that only meant anything to him, Andy, and the Department of Defense.  He knew 18 different ways to bind to a socket.  He knew 19 different ways to accidentally bind to the socket incorrectly, which is why he was careful who he hired.

He looked at his code.  100 lines.  18 minutes.  It compiled, implemented a client/server, verified that both sides were properly using the data.  Not bad.  He added error handling, comments, varied conditions.  He updated his code like a skilled writer polishing his prose, and like a skilled writer he knew how important every individual unit was.  He knew how significant the difference was between --i and i--.  He knew the implications of using [] on a vector instead of .at()

Having accomplished his main goal, he decided to spend a few minutes making fun of other people on Github issues.

He saw one branch of code where someone failed, failed again, then tried changing all the include statements from using “” to using <>.  Dan laughed.

He saw one branch of code where someone tried to log everything as fatal.  This was surprisingly common, especially for people too dumb to figure out how to set log level.  Dan laughed.

Then Dan saw a branch made by one of his best friends.

Ex-friends.  No one ever figured it out.  Things were mysterious, but for reasons he never understood this friend’s family chose not to mention their company (or Dan) once.  But how did it happen?  This was also mysterious.  Dan compiled a list of all the things he had learned after college, and it was long, but one item stood out:

When an obituary omits cause of death, that usually means it’s suicide.

What appalled Dan wasn’t the act itself, but the sheer indifference that their company displayed.  They just didn’t care.  His cubicle was replaced by an intern’s, then another intern’s.  That’s more or less how he felt the company regarded this death.  It was a name tag change, a commented out line in payroll.  It frustrated Dan to no end, the sheer meaningless and triviality of the ordeal.  

Silently, when he was sure no one was there to hear, Dan wept.

He cried to a timer.  When five minutes passed, he got back on track with coding.

[verritytorres]

post tbk depression - unfinished mini fics

“At least we’re going to die together,” Aaron said. Each word was like a knife, cutting deeper and deeper in his chest. His small, sad smile was the final blow.

“Bullshit,” Call hissed at him with a conviction he didn’t have before. He squeezed their laced fingers. “You’re getting out of this alive—”

A blast of heat interrupted him. Tamara flung a fireball at Alex, her face contorted with righteous fury. Alex scowled and flung out his hand, using his air magic specialty to throw the fire right at the boys. Call barely ducked in time, grabbing Aaron’s shirt and pulling him down.

The masked man holding Call screamed as Tamara’s fire ate at his shirt. He let go of Call and he jumped away, wincing at his leg. He yanked Aaron away with him, and the blond boy staggered to his feet.

“Havoc, get him!” Tamara screamed, summoning another fireball.

Havoc’s snarl echoed throughout the abandoned village and he launched himself at Alex. Aaron tried to take away his hand—to fight back, no doubt—but Call tightened his fingers, holding him in place.

“No heroics,” Call said, pinning Aaron in place with his blazing eyes. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a blinding light interrupted him.

Call and Aaron whipped their heads at Alex, horror striking their hearts when they saw the metal of the Alkahest glowing with power. Alex raised his arm, his face alight with cruel victory.

It’s been two years.

It’s gotten to the point where everyone doubts you. Hell, they probably even doubt your mental state. You’ve gone on endless rants about how “—I can feel him, Tamara, I can’t explain it, but he’s there—“, her warm brown eyes filling with fucking pity, and her soft voice telling you for the umpteenth time that Aaron was dead; his soul was taken by Alex Strike; that there’s no way for him to come back, even under normal circumstances. But you resent that.

First of all—and you hate yourself for thinking this, she’s your best friend, for fuck’s sake, and the only one available at the moment—who’s she to say what’s up with souls? She’s not a Makar. Sure, she’s read all the books about it, but she’s never known what souls look like—what his soul looked like. A thousand colors at once. It was warm on the outside, caring, kind, the Aaron everyone knew and loved; but you saw something else, too. Something that somehow, you can’t really explain—that seems to be a prominent issue with all this Makar-void-soul business—but it sure explained his occasional bouts of aggression.

Second—and this might come as a surprise to people—you’ve read the counterweight theories. You’re not completely hopeless in class. You know your shit. And in every reading about counterweights that Rufus assigned to you and Aaron, it always said: The Makar and their counterweight’s souls are forever linked. So if that “link”, or whatever, was severed, you of all people would know. You would stop feeling that rubber band. You would stop feeling these flashes of phantom pain. You wouldn’t feel anything at all, just a gaping hole you can never fill. Besides, when a Makar dies, they take their counterweight down with them; that’s a known fact. That’s why Aaron didn’t want you as his counterweight at first, remember? He was so worried you’d die. But you decided to do it anyway, and now he’s gone.

But you’re still here. Why are you still here?

Why are you still alive if he’s not?

Simple. He’s not fucking dead.

Tamara says differently. Rufus says differently. Alastair says differently. The whole fucking World of Mages says differently, with their memorial statues and grand funeral (with no body to speak of, by the way.) Your own brain says differently. It plagues you at night with constant replays of that fucking beam, of Alex’s cruel expression, of his hand in yours. Aaron blames you for it every night in your dreams.

(You don’t get much sleep these days.)

It’s been two years, and you still think he’s alive, somewhere, somehow.

But now you’re on your way to his grave with flowers.

The fallen leaves crunch under your boots. The winter chill came early this year, biting your face in sudden gusts. Students are already wearing their warmer uniforms. Yours is red this year, and your wrist glistens with gold. It was supposed to be your senior year—all three of you, finishing school with a flourish. The plan just doesn’t work with two.

His tomb is a bit extravagant for his taste, you think. Aaron wouldn’t want a statue of him like Verity. “I didn’t earn it,” he’d say. He’d want a small modest little stone, engraved with his name, the dates, and if he died honorably or otherwise. But the Assembly insisted on a big memorial near the Mission Gate with a plaque underneath.

You don’t really like it. The sculptor got his nose wrong.

The platform by Fake-Aaron’s feet is littered with dead flowers. A rumor went around that leaving a little token by Aaron would give you good luck on your mission. Even the Gold Years did it sometimes. And you can agree that Aaron always did project good vibes.

You gently set your small bouquet next to his left foot. It’s a bit miserable—colorless bluebells, pink lilacs, and a weird purplish one Tamara called “hyacinth”—but you grew it yourself. Gold Years learn to use earth magic to cultivate things at speed. Aaron would have loved it; he always did appreciate earth magic right after chaos.

You take a deep breath and whisper, “Aaron.” A gust of wind buffets your face, and you pull up the hood of your coat, shivering slightly. “I—I know you’re out there. I don’t know how I know, but I…” You open your mouth to say more, but the words catch in your throat. You swallow thickly. “At this point, I might just be imagining it. I’m sure everyone thinks that. So please—please—if you can hear me, tell me. Send a counterweight sign or whatever. Just—show me.”

Something rustles behind you. You whip around and stare wildly around because holy shit, what if he actually heard you, is that him, finally—

But there’s nothing there. You wait a few minutes more, eyes and ears peeled for something, anything.

Nothing. It was the wind.

It’s been two years.

You start to think he might not come back after all.

Master North had gone on a long spiel about the untrained Makars—or Makar, as of late—being a danger to the whole school; Alma kept trying to convince everyone of her outrageous conspiracy theory. Rufus was exhausted, both mentally and physically. He had spent most of this meeting loudly and vehemently protesting everything his students were being subjected to.

When the mages arrived at the Order village, Callum had been immediately clapped in irons and sent to the Panopticon, no questions asked. Tamara had been ushered away and locked in her dorm with the Chaos-ridden wolf, isolated from all contact, but at least she was safe. Rufus’ main argument throughout this arduous meeting was Callum’s ordeal. He was a child, for God’s sake. He may be the Makar, but he means no harm, and he certainly did not kill Aaron. And he most definitely is not the Enemy of Death. Rufus, of all people, would know.

As soon as the Masters’ meeting was dismissed, Rufus all but ran out of the room. He couldn’t manage to bust Callum out of prison right now, Master North made sure of that. But he had time. He would pull strings in the Assembly, anything to get the boy out. But right now, something else was on his mind.

“It’s history repeating itself!” Alma had screeched. “Constantine Madden had killed his counterweight too—“

“A terrible accident,” Master Milagros said coldly. She didn’t like Alma.

“Maybe, but it was his fault nonetheless! When counterweights die, Makars are weakened but not killed. Makars, though—when Makars die, they take their counterweight down with them. Does anyone remember Verity Torres?” Alma waited half a second before continuing, “She was murdered, and her counterweight fell dead on the spot at the exact moment. So tell me, peers,” Alma stared around the room, her eyes piercing daggers at every Master, “why is Callum Hunt not dead?”

Alma was raving mad during most of her speech, but she had a point there. Something wasn’t right.

As he hurried down the halls, Rufus noticed everything was quiet. Usually the cavernous halls of the school echoes with laughter and the sounds of elementals and magic, but all he could hear now was the occasional drip of water and the swift pattering of his own feet.

He got to the small docks where the small boats let into the underground river system. Rufus swiftly stepped onto one and didn’t bother sitting down. He closed his eyes and focused his thoughts on the water, feeling its need to flow, and willed it to take him to his office. The water happily complied, and Rufus sped down the river.

Rufus took the few minutes he had to organize his thoughts. [hackshshd]

 He would have to look at Aaron to be sure. Rufus flicked his fingers and created a small air-phone in front of him. Master Amaranth appeared, feeding eyeless fish to her python. She didn’t notice him until he said her name.

Amaranth jumped, clutching her heart. “Rufus! Don’t scare me like that, how many times do I have to—“

“I’m sorry, Amaranth,” Rufus inclined his head. “But I have an urgent request.”

Amaranth sighed and wrapped her snake around her neck. “Well?”

Rufus made an effort to make his face look grief-stricken. It wasn’t hard. “I’d like to see Aaron.”

Master Amaranth was silent. Rufus wasn’t known in the Magisterium for being emotional. His tragic backstory was well known throughout the school—a Devoured Master, his first apprentice group dead or ostracized, his second going on that same path—but so was his seeming apathy. William Rufus showing emotion was as rare as two Makars in a generation.

“Okay,” Amaranth said. “They put him in the infirmary. You have five minutes.”

Rufus thanked her and changed the boat’s course.

   It was summer again. Call lay on the grass, basking in the sun. And Aaron was with him, their palms together, their fingers loosely laced, and everything felt right.

Aaron squeezed their hands a little. Call turned his head to look at him, smiling softly. But Aaron wasn’t looking back at him. He kept staring at the sky.

“Hey,” said Call. “You okay?”

Aaron didn’t respond. Call propped himself up on his elbow to take a closer look at him. Aaron’s green eyes were glassy and dull.

“Aaron!” Call jostled his shoulder but Aaron still didn’t look at him. “Aaron, answer me—“

Aaron shot up abruptly, gripping Call’s throat with a vengeance. Call scrabbled at his fist, but only felt metal, and suddenly Call was back at the Order village. Aaron’s face melted into Alex’s and he said in a voice far too sinister for a sixteen year-old boy, “Power.” Light flooded out of the Alkahest and burned like hell, and Call was thrown back. Aaron lay there beside him again, but he wasn’t there, and Aaron’s hand was cold, Aaron wasn’t breathing, Aaron was gone—

 Call has always been the kind of person that knew when he was dreaming and when he wasn’t. He knew he was dreaming when Master Joseph came to him and splashed snow on his face. He knew he was awake when he saw Aaron die.

[shirtlesssammy]

1x12: Faith

Welcome to hellatus, guys! This summer we’ve decided to recap our favorite episodes from past seasons. We’ll be picking two per season. We’re starting off with Faith --because Dean’s faith and self-worth seem like a good start, and at least one recapper (Boris) hasn’t rewatched in a very long time.

Then:

On a dark, lonely highway, two brothers criss-cross the country hunting monsters while looking for their dad.

Now:

Sam and Dean are hunting a rawhead in the basement of very dark house (forewarning: Boris will maintain a running commentary on how dark this show is in the beginning for the foreseeable future.) While Sam gets the children to safety, Dean takes out the monster with electricity, but gets zapped in the process.

(If I’m going to suffer, you’re going to suffer)

Sam gets Dean to the hospital (Omg, Hannah!) but the doctor has bad news. Dean suffered a massive heart attack, and his heart is irreparably damaged. He only has a few weeks to live. Sam, in tears, heads to Dean’s room. He finds his brother, considerably worse for wear, channel surfing. “You ever watch daytime tv? It’s terrible.” (haha, Jensen is only a few years removed from Days at this point. Also, it’s SO something Dean loves.)

This is Dean’s episode, but I’m really feeling for Sam here. He just lost Jessica at this point. He isn’t close to John, but their dad is missing too. He is facing the reality that his brother is going to die. Welcome to the show of pain and loss and never ending heartache, Sam Winchester.

He jumps into full savior mode, researching everything about Dean’s condition, and even calls their father. Surprise! He doesn’t answer. There’s a knock at the door, and Dean’s there!

He checked himself out the of hospital. That’s ok though, because Sam has a lead on a specialist in Nebraska. He’s not letting Dean die on his watch!

The specialist is actually a faith healer in a tent. Dean is appalled. I’m appalled at the amount of mud everywhere. This is not ADA compliant. Throw some boards down for the sick and injured at least. As Sam and Dean enter the tent, they argue about faith and God. A young woman counters Dean’s argument, and hello flirty Dean. The woman is Layla. She wonders why Dean is even at the faith healer’s if he doesn’t believe. “Apparently, my brother here believes enough for both of us.” It’s like Sam took those words and internalized them for 13 years. Aside from his mental breakdown after Dean and Cas went to Purgatory, Sam’s always kept pushing and believing in something better.

Once the boys are seated inside the tent, Roy Le Grange starts his spiel. In a side whisper to Sam, Dean calls bullshit on the whole shebang. Roy, who’s blind, overhears him and asks him to come forward.

Dean does not want to go. Dean doesn’t think he deserves to be healed. Dean reiterates that he is not a believer. “You will be, son. You will be.” Hahahahaha, he only believes now because he’s seen it all. Roy asks the congregation to pray and he lays his hands on Dean. Dean falls to the ground. Sam rushes to his side. Dean looks around and sees someone behind Roy.

Back at the hospital, a doctor assures Dean that his heart is perfectly normal, like nothing was ever wrong with it. She also tells the boys that another young man died from a heart attack the day before. Coincidence? Dean thinks not.

The boys split up. Sam goes to learn about the heart attack victim and Dean heads to talk to the reverend. He tells Dean about going blind, cancer, a coma, and a miracle of waking up cancer free with the added bonus of healing thrown in for funsies. Dean wants to know why he was saved. DEAN. The reverend says he sees “a young man with an important purpose, a job to do, and it isn't finished.” Lol, he has AT LEAST 13 more years of work to do.

Sam learns that the man who died was running at the gym before he died. And the clock there hasn’t worked since.

Dean runs into Layla and her mother as he leaves the reverend’s. They’re turned away by the reverend’s wife. Layla’s mom lays into Dean, and Dean learns that Layla has a brain tumor. “Why do you deserve to live and not my daughter?” Whoa, harsh lady. One, he saves the world,  a lot. And B, angels are pretty much making it impossible for him to die.

Back at the motel room, Sam reveals all the research he’s been doing. For every healing that Roy has performed, someone else has died. Dean concludes that they’re dealing with a reaper.

Cue generic lame-o music montage if you’re watching Netflix. Cue super awesome, totally on the nose Blue Oyster Cult’s Don’t Fear the Reaper if you’re watching the DVD. Sigh. We see Roy heal people while a reaper takes a life.

Sam guesses that Roy is using dark magic to bind the reaper to do his bidding. Dean wants to kill him. Sam doesn���t want to kill another human. Then Dean says, “We can’t kill Death.” Lolololololol. Sam suggests breaking the black spell.

They head back to the tent where another dramatic healing service is about to begin. Dean stakes out the tent while Sam breaks into the preacher's house. He discovers a book hidden behind another. It's an old book with information about reapers and the coptic cross on the altar in the tent.

Also in the book? News clippings about people who have died...and one news article featuring the man campaigning against the faith healing. And so the next victim is revealed (In a Monty Python voice: He’s not dead yet!) Sam relays the info about the next victim to Dean.

Dean's mission in all of this is to stall the healing. But this show being what it is, the next person called up for healing is Layla. We want her to live but also...it's not the way to save her. Dean is clearly feeling the same quandary and he tries to tell her not to go up and be healed. Her mother calls her up to the altar and Layla goes. (And you can’t blame her. The word of some angsty dude over her desperate mother? No contest.)

Meanwhile out in the parking lot the next victim calls for help as the reaper pursues him through the parked cars. The preacher's about to heal Layla when Dean pulls the fire alarm – and by “pulls the fire alarm” I mean he just shouts that there's a fire. Uh. Subtle? People panic anyway and skedaddle. The preacher's handlers lead him out and the healing (and murderous reaper) is stopped.

Hooray! Problem solved! Except...no. The reaper reappears and grabs hold of the victim's head. The protester collapses slowly to the ground while Sam shouts at Dean through the phone to fix it. Dean spots the preacher's wife standing strangely off by herself. She's muttering an incantation and when Dean interrupts her, she stuffs an ornate necklace under her shirt before yelling for help. With her spell interrupted, the reaper recedes.

Dean and Layla have a chat about the failed healing. She wants to know why he interrupted her healing and when he doesn’t have an answer, she walks away disappointed. Dean heads back to the car muttering that she deserves life more than him. Ooooh Dean Bean.

Anyway, don't worry kids, because the preacher's gonna heal Layla in a private session! Or, worry readers, because someone's gonna die soon. I'll give you a hint. He's over six feet tall, has fanfiction green eyes, and channels his immense daddy issues into hunting.

Back at the motel, Sam explains the book he purloined from the preacher’s house. It was written by a “priest gone darkside” who learned how to trap a reaper. They theorize that the preacher's wife first trapped it to keep it from taking her terminally ill husband, and later decided to use it to kill people she found immoral. Gross. Since the preacher is healing Layla that night, they head out to either destroy her necklace or the altar, or possibly both since they’re not sure what’s controlling it.

Dean muses about the value of his life yet again on their way to the revival camp. I suppose this is one of the reasons I find this episode so compelling. I’m endlessly drawn to Dean and his deep well of self loathing and sacrifice. I feel like this episode epitomizes much of that for me, and sets up so much of the conversation about faith and purpose later on.

Anyway. Roy's about to start healing but his wife isn't there. She must be lurking elsewhere to do the reaper spell. Sam heads to the house to find her while Dean leads the local cops on a merry chase through the encampment. Sam finds a cellar and heads inside. At last he's found the altar! He finds a picture of Dean on the super messy black altar. (If you're going to do a black altar, at least do it with some style, lady.)

The wife shows up. “I gave your brother life and I can take it away.” Yeah...NO. Sam trashes the altar and races for her. She locks him in the cellar but Sam is resourceful and starts bashing his way out while the preacher’s wife heads to the tent to pray Dean dead.

Dean, meanwhile, gets a happy visit from our friend the reaper. He starts to die, eyes graying out and color bleeding from his face, when Sam appears by the reaper’s wife and destroys her necklace. Sam got free! Now the reaper is free! The reaper immediately turns away from Dean and heads for the preacher's wife. She's toast in moments - her life for her husband, apparently.

Sam meets up with Dean and they head back to the hotel. Dean mopes about what happened when Layla stops by. (Sam called her and told her to stop by. Sam, you dork.) Sam gives Dean a stupid grin and hightails it out of there. We get the recap: Layla's still terminally ill. The preacher's suffering after the death of his wife and collapse of his healing business.

Layla tells Dean that she's okay with everything that went down. “If you're gonna have faith, you can't just have it when the miracles happen. You have to have it when they don't.” (Accurate!) She bids Dean farewell.

He tells her, “I'm not much of a praying type. But I'm gonna pray for you.”

“Well,” she replies. “There's a miracle right there.” (Accurate.)

Ya Gotta Have Quotes:

We can't work miracles

I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot

I bet you she could work in some mysterious ways

I looked into your heart and you just stood out from all the rest

We can't kill death

God save us from half the people who think they're doing god's work

You said it yourself, Dean. You can't play god

That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down.

Why me?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[wits-writing]

AVENGERS APRIL – Doomquest (Iron Man #150)

From a Gothic take on Captain America to a Medieval take on Iron Man in my weekly month-long look back at some of my favorite Marvel stories in anticipation of Infinity War. In 1981, Co-plotters David Micheline and Bob Layton, with pencils from John Romita Jr., celebrated 150 issues of Tony Starks adventures as the Invincible Iron Man by taking him out of his element and sticking him in the high fantasy setting of Camelot. Flung back in time mid-fight with Doctor Doom, the hero and villain end up embroiled in a battle between King Arthur Pendragon and Morgana Le Fay while each is still stuck working to figure out a way back to the present on their own.

[Full Review Under the Cut]

Like with the Captain America story last week, “Doomquest” takes place while Tony was still operating with a secret identity, utilizing the cover story that Iron Man was his official bodyguard. Between that and the fact that he’s in the company for Doom for most of this story, there’s very little of Tony as himself to get an impression of how he was portrayed in the comics of the time, except for one moment where the playboy side of him comes out as one of Arthur’s lady servants offers him company at night. The story mainly concerns the spectacle of the situation and getting as much out of the scenario as possible in 38 pages.

It’s also worth noting that this story is technically a two-parter, since the title it’s widely known and the backstory behind why the armored foes got sent to Camelot in the first place gets covered in Iron Man #149. I re-read both issues before writing this and 149 doesn’t add much to the discussion besides a moment of Tony’s righteous anger at one of the Stark Industries chairmen sold technology to Doom’s kingdom of Latveria and that one of Doom’s minions sent the archvillain back in time, smashing the machine so he can’t return, as revenge against the despot for murdering his brother. The big anniversary issue event in question is why people remember this story so fondly and it all begins with a Monty Python reference.

(It’s only a model)

From the moment Iron Man and Doom realize they’ve been sent to the past, the story begins burning through as many possible situations within this setup as it can. Because of how much it does in the relatively few pages it has “Doomquest” can become an argument both for and against the more modern notion of decompressed comic book storytelling. This is a concept so potentially massive that seeing the story play out with more room to breath could grant both major characters space to display the personalities that have defined them over the years. Camelot itself getting the chance have a better sense of place beyond an interesting backdrop for the confrontation between these two could also be welcome. On the other hand, some running gags in this issue, like Tony’s annoyance at Doom referring to him as “Stark’s lackey” would probably get old with more space and it could all end up being tedious as opposed to the tight, entertaining package that exists.

That’s enough time spent on hypotheticals, because it doesn’t change what “Doomquest” does accomplish over the course of its story. It plays out expectedly without any twists or turns to catch the reader off-guard, the two time-lost characters get questioned by the Knights of the Round Table, brought before Arthur and gain his trust right before Doom busts out of the castle later that night to find the castle of Morgana Le Fay. The closest thing to an interesting wrinkle to the background of why the story takes place in this setting is Doom revealing that he’s been travelling through time to gain knowledge from the greatest sorcerers throughout history in order to learn their magics to save his mother’s soul from hell. Camelot’s era was set to be his next destination anyway, so he could meet Morgana. She agrees to help in exchange for Doctor Doom first leading an army composed of the undead warriors who were slain by Excalibur. The battle between the undead legion and Iron Man with Arthur and his knights marks the best piece of art in the issue as the scope of the battle is covered over a gorgeous two-page spread from Layton and Romita.

Between its two leads, “Doomquest” ends up showing off more of what makes Doctor Doom unique as a character than it does for the Armored Avenger himself. There’s a certain level of arrogance and cruelty laced with bombast that can always be expected in a comic by Victor Von Doom’s simple inclusion and Micheline and Layton capture that well. It’s also captured in how Doom’s machinations to get assistance from Le Fay are ultimately undone by the fact that he’s spent the entire issue underestimating the intelligence of “Stark’s lackey”, leading to both parties declaring a truce to utilize the tech in their armors to make it back to the present (in a page that’s one of the more creatively laid out in the issue.)

Iron Man #150 is a well-structured romp spending its length taking the reader on a ride with Iron Man and Doctor Doom through a conflict in a realm of legend. I got a brief chance to talk with Bob Layton about this story at the Cincinnati Comic Expo in 2017 and he ended up telling me this was based on a story idea he’d been holding onto since he was first reading Marvel books as a kid and getting to do something with it left an impression on the legacy of Iron Man comics’ since. Micheline and he have revisited the conflict between Doom and Iron Man in relation to Camelot twice, once a hundred issues later in Iron Man #250 and another in the Iron Man: The Legacy of Doom miniseries in 2008, which was where I first saw this story ever mentioned, both follow-ups are worthwhile reads on their own. My biggest problem with “Doomquest” is that I wish there was more to this story thematically, but that wasn’t the goal and as the fish-out-of-water anniversary fantasy epic it is there’s a lot to love.

Next time, I get down to discussing the team in question.

[overcaffeinated-creative]

Solus Vetra, Modern AU

Title: I have the Best Work Stories Ever

Rating: T

Characters: Unnamed New Guy, Solus Vetra, Pre Vizsla, Akaan Kast

Summary: A new guy gives a first person run down of the wildest day in his blossoming Kyr’tsad career. Solus shows off what makes her a total badass. Assume they’re operating within an American HQ.

Notes: This was inspired by the introduction scene of Natasha in Iron Man 2. You know the one. There’s a lampshade for it.

Being the New Guy always sucked. If there is someone to be blamed for something going wrong it will be you. Food and coffee runs also became your job without your approval. The really sadistic bastards made up things for you to find on wild snipe hunts to supposedly find. No one cared if you have known each other half your damned lives (looking at you, Conner, who has shared my room for ever family thing since birth) because you are Fresh Meat. If leaving out key information could result in something funny they just had to do it. Because all that matters in the end is there’s a new di’kut around HQ to be tormented until the next batch arrives.

Take for example, no one telling me that Vizsla’s personal assistant was one of those vode. Basic warnings were given (because they’re all shebs but they’re not intentionally malicious shebs) about how things ran. Careful with the loud noises if her name is highlighted red on our intra-communication network, don’t mind the black Husky in the service vest (his name is Sen and they openly argue with each other), and the sweet black and silver Cadillac CTS V in the parking lot is hers. It was to be given a wide berth and never, ever startle her when she’s getting in or out. Things can (and do) go sideways with sparks.

Getting to their sheb quality was no one ever braced me for what she looks like. See, Solus Vetra is one of those bathed-in-the-blood-of-the-Ka’ra, born-in-a-fiery-burst-reeking-of-Mandokarla, my-loyalty-is-only-to-the-true-Manda’lor names. Anyone who knows their history knows Aliit Vetra was one of those old school families; as in ancient old school. The kind that is (still) dripping money, are very proud of being Mandalorian, and who have the past to make Renaissance Borgia look tame and never got caught doing any of it. So, this petite, smoking hot, white haired, Asian chick was not who I pegged for Solus Vetra. (In fact, I found out my pick for Solus Vetra out of seeing the Higher Ups was actually Bo-Katan Kryze...a different level of Traditionalist asskicker but not the PA) Every single time I had seen Vetra she was dressed to the nines, wearing labels even I know mean Wealth, and darting around with her face buried in a tablet and wearing this tweaked Google Glass display. Basically, I would have bought her as one of the Duchess’ people before Vizsla’s...well ever. There was too much Silicon Valley Tech Start Up in her look.

Assuming makes an ass out of you and me as the saying went.

Near a month into my tenure with the company was when the Day of Reckoning all went down. In the span of three hours she went from Pepper Potts with her unruly boss and love of art to Natasha Romanoff with everything you would expect of the world’s best spy. (Seriously, I want to know if we have a Black Widow Program and if that’s where we found her. Because she is scary.) First, came The Argument with the Boss that would have made a lesser man piss himself. Few hours later, she popped up in the gym sparking The Beat Down to her vocal heckler. It cemented her as Certified Badass in my mind and shot her to the top of my “Never Ever Fuck With” List.

The Argument was held in an adjacent meeting room to the fourth floor supply closet at 10:23 AM. I was down there looking for this weirdly specific ink cartridge for our satanic printer when this feeling of doom washed over me. I swear the room dropped ten degrees while clicking suddenly picked up. It was like gearing up for a boss fight in the wrong area of a video game. You just knew shit was about to go down and it was not going to go in your favor at all. Instead of some kind of insectoid monster making the noise it was the rapid fire click of $1200 USD, real python pumps (I got curious enough to Google how much her red soled kicks cost and the answer is more than my rent) beating down on the tile floor with a Purpose.

I have to say a Smart Man would have waited for the danger to pass and ran away. This is where I say I am not a smart man. Di’kut is the right title for me because I stayed to eavesdrop...and maybe a little (a lot) of stunned silence freezing me into place. See, she cornered ‘Alor in the recently emptied meeting room with this chilled civility. I heard the door close with this crisp professionalism (how is that even possible?) before she started reaming him. 

It turned out Vetra was a Smart Person because she had a lot of languages to yell in. I lost track of the clearly individual ones after the five mark. Whatever he did (I speak English and Mando’a with some passable Spanish to her rapid fire Everything) it had to have been bad if she was suicidal enough for this. Everyone, and I mean everyone, knows Vizsla can be a giant kad when he feels like and he always feels like it. When he started yelling back I had the kneejerk reaction to go help her. Again, Vetra is Small and I am a Dumbass. Before I could move, her voice shot up a couple more decibels in the angriest (and I had Dred Priest overseeing part of my training) Mando’a to have ever been uttered. Then it was drop a pin and hear it echo for eternity silent.

Conner sent three texts while I was holding my post (and my breath) behind several stacks of xerox paper. Just to keep him from blowing my cover I shot back it was taking a while to dig around and he left me alone. It was a good thing because without their yelling-and with my luck-I would have gotten busted. Until this, I would have picked getting busted by Vetra...every time really. I knew what she looked like smiling in a good mood without someone dying. A’lor only smiled when things were going to shit for someone else. Now...now it was way harder. Since she had the gett’se to get in the Manda’lor’s face and live. But, he was not only a giant kad but one who could survive her wrath. I had no winning options except to hope for a mercy kill from a heart attack or something.

My internal strife stopped when I heard them pass by the closet door and they were...laughing? What in the hell had I missed falling down that rabbit hole? Twenty minutes ago she threatened to cut his gett’se off and parade them around with the stick he kept up his ass. Now, they were friends? What kind of fucking magic did he just pull? Could I learn it? Holy Shit. Pre Vizsla knew how to laugh? Without murder and chaos raining down around him? What kind of magic did she have?

Keeping it on the safe side I waited another ten minutes to return to my desk.

Witnessing The Beat Down was one of the best things to happen in my twenty years of living. Seriously, it came straight out of a movie it was so unbelievably awe-inspiring to see. Angels sang, the lights of the heavens shined down, and I watched the best ass kicking to have ever went down this year and possibly ever. A little digging around and the offer of enough uj cake even got me a full on video of the event. It makes the bad days better in twenty-five seconds.

Everything kicked off when I stopped by our gym when my shift ended at one. The shellshock from overhearing The Argument kept my head shoved pretty firmly up my ass. (I mean, that had to go down in some kind of history right? PA owns Manda’lor with words alone. It was going down in my history.) Conner picked up on something being off enough to leave my ink cartridgeless ass alone. I think he assumed I walked in something I shouldn’t see. Namely that nympho from Recruitment climbing some of the ground team guys...again. Why in the hell he was into men who could pass for hockey goalies, missing teeth and all, I would never know...fucking Canadian.

Somewhere between changing into workout gear and returning to the main room Vetra had shown up. Okay. I mean, I guess anyone could work out here and she was a Vetra? I had to assume she had at least basic self defense training. That had always been a huge part of the Mando Culture, especially with the Traditionalists. On second glance, I saw she was still in her outfit of the day. She even had her tablet with the intention of getting Kast to sign something. That made way more sense. Yeah, she would square off verbally with her boss but this would not be a verbal battle. Knowing how to defend herself was important; throwing the ground forces around moved away from that. It went more into the, “This is going to horribly wrong. Why are you brushing up the Basics with them?” because they could break her.

Remember, how I said I’m a dumbass and not to make assumptions? This is a good time to remember that I am one because I made the same mistake twice.

But, so was Akaan Kast.

See, Akaan Kast was a cycle ahead of me in training with a reputation for being both a bully and a show off. He thought because he was directly assigned to a company in HQ he was a Big Deal. “Kasts are always around the most powerful," he liked to brag, “Because we are the most powerful and recognize our own.” However, that did not get him an invitation into the Nite Owls or the A’lor’s personal company. Both ate him alive even if he refused to acknowledge it. (If I toasted the gods for that good fortune a few different nights no one had to know.) He also had this Thing for trying to impress Traditionalist girls. (Don’t ask me what it was because I tuned it out every time he tried to pontificate on the subject.) Plus, Priest liked the guy and that is all anyone needs to know.

Point was Kast was being up to his usual antics and Vetra was taking None of It. Everything in her body language screamed “Predator ready to maul a man’s face off” masked behind this stone cold smile. Picturing her with pinned back ears and bared fangs looked too right. All she wanted was him to sign something on her tablet but he was being Difficult. The last man who made her life Difficult was chewed up and spit out with words alone. This was going to be funny as hell to witness.

“Kast, sign,” she huffed while jabbing the tablet into his chest. “Then we both can get back to our jobs.”

“You can call me Akaan and I’ll call you Solus,” he started off in complete ignorance. Except not. He clearly knew he was riling her up. “What if we trade instead? You get a true combat lesson then I’ll sign.”

“Kast, do you damn job. Sign now. That’s an order.”

“Can you really give orders as a personal assistant? Thought you job was to fetch coffee and answer phones.”

All eyes were sneaking glances at them by this point but no one was stepping in. I was a little confused. Some of these people had to have been around when Vetra first come through. Some of them even looked amused at her being hassled. I knew Kyr’tsad had a Reputation but I thought taking care of their own was part of it. Letting Kast be a kad to their own wasn’t taking care of her.

“If I’m echoing an order of the Manda’lor I can.”

“Just a fifteen minute lesson? It's been a while since you've been out in the field. Wanna make sure you can keep that pretty little head on.” I gagged at this point. How disgusting could someone be? How could he thing this was even going to work in his favor? Was she supposed to be impressed with his only okay muscles and terrible (Ba’buir would call it Americanized) attitude? Did he really think insults would work?

“Fine.”

Anyone who has ever met another human being knows fine is past “Fuck You” on the Scale of Responses. But, Kast looked pleased with himself while Vetra pointedly left most of her belongings on a bench. Which was a lot of belonging to just be moving around the office. Tablet, Goggle Glass, ear piece, earrings, watch, bracelet, shoes, cell phone, suit jacket, and top shirt? I guess if I paid that much (I had no idea the real price but I could only imagine) for a button up I would avoid getting it dirty too. Course I’d never pay who knows how much for a shirt no matter how soft it was.

I edged closer to their makeshift ring to see what was going down. Fantastic choice on my part. See, Kast made some off-handed comment about the cutesy tattoo he could see through her undershirt. He asked what it was prompting her to offer a clear view; a colorful Barn Owl nestled on her hip. Here, Barn Owls had a special meaning because they were only for the Nite Owls. The Nite Owls, being Kryze’s personal team of unmatched Spec Ops ghosts who could probably destabilize an entire first world country over night or something ridiculous. So, Huge Deal.

I put several fragments of thoughts together all at once; Kast did not. He asked why she had that Mark of Honor. Made some vague comment about why it was important “just a personal assistant” could not just wear it around. As the cherry on top he even tried to lecture her on the rules and demanded it be removed. I could detect the jealousy in his voice. He wanted one of those tattoos and would never get one.

Have you ever seen a six foot, three inch wall of could have been Alabama linebacker get his ass handed to him by about five feet and some change of definitely could be a model? I just did. It. Was. Awesome.

Before he could finish his spiel she had him on the ground. Not with dirty shots, simple but effective basics, or even an unexpectedly lucky flail. Hell no. It was like watching absolute poetry in motion. A twist of the hand in front of her face, launching her body up and over his arm to flip him forward, with his neck trapped between her thighs and his arm pinned. That held down hand looked like it was really hurting with the way she had it twisted. Everything Solus Vetra did in that moment was built to show the fuck off. When I said Natasha Romanoff I meant it.

He tapped out and she waited a few seconds longer before releasing him to gracefully rise. “Your lesson got my suit dirty. I’ll have payroll deduct the dry cleaning costs from your next check. Providing there is one of course.” In a flash she popped back up while he remained sprawled in an undignified heap. Hands on her hips, red lips pulled into a feral smile she looked down at him, “I’m the Alii'alor of Vetra and a Nite Owl within Kyr’tsad. I earned my colors and you have earned nothing. You challenged both my honor and my authority. Good luck explaining that one to A’lor.”

I have no idea if I am in love or if I am going to be scared for my life from here on out...maybe both...definitely both. At least, Kyr’tsad is fun to work for if it is a hot mess.

[annabethwisegirl-chase]

250 Headcanons (Part 2)

Headcanons #51-100.  These cover Annabeth’s third year at camp through the events of The Titan’s Curse.

51.  It’s their third year when Luke gets his quest.  She’s half convinced that he’ll take her with him, and is devastated when he doesn’t.  Instead, he chooses one of his siblings, who’s older than he is and has more experience at camp, and one of Clarisse’s brothers.  They’re a good group, fighting wise, but Annabeth can’t help but feel that’s all they’ve got.  They’re all talented with their weapons, and Luke’s smart and cunning, but she’s afraid that it won’t be enough.  The night before he’s supposed to leave, Annabeth finds him getting in some last minute practice in the arena.  She makes him promise to come back to her and he does.  And because Luke’s never broken a promise to her before, she believes he’ll be safe and will make it back to camp.

52.  While Luke’s gone, things kind of fall apart for Annabeth.  Her and Malcolm get into a fight over the fact she has seniority over him, despite the fact that he’s a year older than she is.  It’s a dumb argument, but they’re both so stubborn that neither one of theme are willing to compromise and they go three weeks without speaking.  It makes the Athena cabin feel tense, to say the least.

53.  Annabeth doesn’t remember how it came up--maybe they were talking about places they wanted to visit, or maybe they were just talking about their family history--but she makes a passing comment to Clarisse about the fact that her mortal family is descended from Swedish royalty.  It gets the Ares camper to make a quip about that’s why she acts so high and mighty--like she’s a princess compared to the rest of the paupers.  It’s not meant to be mean, at least, no meaner than the other quips the girls share, but it rubs Annabeth the wrong way.  Especially when Clarisse takes to calling her “princess” whenever she does something in an attempt to make herself look better.  Eventually, Annabeth gets sick of it and something inside of her just snaps.  The girls end up fighting physically outside, near the canoe lake, and they have to be pulled apart by Chiron and one of the older satyrs.  The next few months, they communicate only through death glares.

54.  With the loss of her two closest friends, and Luke still gone on a quest, Annabeth finds herself looking for friendship in an old, slightly odd companion: Grover.  After Thalia’s death, she tried to distance herself from the satyr.  But, now that Luke’s gone, he seems a pleasant reminder of the good old days.  He’s awkward, has horrible taste in music, and can’t play the pipes to save his life, but he’s funny.  And he and Annabeth once more become fast friends.

55.  When Luke’s quest weighs heavy on her mind one day, Annabeth finds Chiron to ask why she can’t have one of her own.  He looks at her with an expression that shows he knows more than he lets on and promises that her day is coming.  After she asks when exactly that day will be here, he tells her to go up to the attic and take the leather pouch from around the Oracle’s neck.  It’s the first time Annabeth hears the Great Prophecy.  Her nightmares change from being about spiders, to being about the prophecy.  And suddenly, she’s convinced that every kid who comes across the border is a child of the Big Three.  But more importantly: they’re her chance to prove herself.

56.   Luke comes back from his quest not long after, but it’s immediately obvious he’s not the same.  Technically speaking, he was successful.  But, to look at him, it sounded like a stretch.  For one thing, Luke was the only one to return from the quest, but he refused to talk about what happened to the other two guys who left with him.  He comes back clutching the arm of a dragon and the nasty cut on his face is still healing when he stumbles across the camp borders.  Even though he’s bloody and beaten, Annabeth still runs to him the second she finds out he’s back and he still picks her up just like he used to when they were on the run.  He tells her that he made good on his promise, but something about the smile on his face is different now.  It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  It’s reminiscent of the time right after Thalia died, so she thinks it’s only a matter of time before it comes back again.  It never does.

57.   There are other things that change about Luke after he returns from his quest.  His and Annabeth’s sparring sessions, once an everyday thing, become less frequent.  At first, he misses it only once in a while.  But soon, once in a while becomes once a month, which becomes a week, which becomes every other day, until he finally just stops coming.  She asked him once why he stopped coming, and he just seemed kind of surprised by the question.  He gave some lame excuse about her not needing it anymore, or just forgetting, but he doesn’t meet her eyes when he says it.

58.   That’s the first year the Aphrodite cabin convinces Chiron to hold a prom for the campers.  After all, there are several of them that are year round and will never have a real “prom” experience, which they claim to be completely unfair.  Even though she’s too young to go, Annabeth gets wrapped up in the whole idea of prom.  She helps the Hephaestus and Aphrodite cabins set up for it, and gets a little flustered when she sees Luke in a tuxedo with his Converse sneakers.  It’s totally inappropriate, but it works on him.  And they both laugh when he pulls her up on his feet to teach her how to dance.  It’s one of the few times since he’s been back that she’s heard it.  That night is a bit of a mess.  One of the Hermes campers spikes the punch and a satyr drank too much of it.  It ended with him passing out and getting a complete prom makeover: dress, hair done around his horns, and makeup slathered on his face.  It made the bead for that summer.

59.   The next year passes relatively uneventfully.  There’s an epic prank war between all the cabins, which ends when the Hermes cabin had a python put into it by the Demeter kids.  No one’s really sure how they even managed to get it in there.  But, it’s one of the most amazing things Annabeth ever saw when she watched Luke catch it and release it back into the woods.

60.  She’s eleven when she becomes head counselor for the Athena cabin, and like always, she’s the youngest.  Most of her older siblings don’t always take direction from her because she is so young, but she does have seniority.  Still, Annabeth has always been strategic and is quick to make friends with one of her sisters that is about four years older than she is.  It’s her that most of the Athena kids listen to, but Annabeth doesn’t care.  As long as they’re following her orders, then that’s what matters.

61.   That’s also the year she gets to lead her first Capture the Flag team.  It’s what finally gets her to talk to Clarisse again--an actual conversation instead of the one word ones they’d been having.  They talk battle strategy, and recruit the Hermes and Demeter kids to be on their team.  It’s almost too easy to take the flag away from the Apollo campers and she can’t help but smirk at how overwhelmed that new kid, Will seems when she disarms him in one swift move.  Luke’s the one carrying the flag across the border, but he pats her on the shoulder after the celebration and tells her just how proud of her he is.

62.   But it’s also one of the last conversations the two of them have.  After that Capture the Flag game, Luke starts to pull away more.  There are bags under his eyes that were never there before and he always seems to be deep in conversation with Silena Beauregard whenever he’s walking around camp.  He’s not rude to her.  Whenever he sees her, Luke still smiles and waves, but there’s rarely a time where it’s just the two of them again.

63. Grover leaves a week after the start of the year round term.  Before he left, he’d told Annabeth that this seemed like the perfect chance to redeem himself to get his searcher’s license, so he was looking forward to the assignment.  It wasn’t supposed to be hard.  He was just supposed to go to some New York boarding school, meet this kid, and bring him back to camp safe.  At least he wasn’t having to chase him all across the east coast, he had joked and Annabeth had smiled before hugging him goodbye and tucking a few extra tin cans in his backpack.

64.   With Grover gone, and Clarisse and her navigating the waters of acquaintances again, Annabeth takes the time to make amends with Malcolm.  It doesn’t take much for the two siblings to fall back into their old ways and soon, they’re pouring over old maps and blueprints, trying to design a world all their own.

65.   Hackeysack becomes very popular at camp during this year.  It’s not uncommon for a camper to randomly pull out a little beanbag or ball at dinner, training, or a campfire, and a game to start up.  Because of the fact she’s still always playing pick up games of soccer (and volleyball, but more on that later), Annabeth’s pretty good at the game and gets mad at people when they let it drop.

66.   That’s the year Annabeth has any real contact with her mother.  On her birthday that year, there’s a box on her bed with the Hermes Express logo, her name and a birthday ‘best wishes’ from Athena.  When she opens it, there’s a brand spanking new Yankees cap.  At first, Annabeth thinks it’s an odd gift.  After all, she’s not really that into baseball.  But, when she puts it on, she’s stunned to see her body vanish, and it’s pretty much the coolest birthday present ever.  For the next week, Annabeth constantly wears it, trying to find ways to prank people with it.  She has the Stoll brothers convinced that the third stall in the boys’ bathroom is haunted before Chiron figures it out and makes her stop.

67.   Grover’s gone all of two months when Chiron announces at dinner one night that he must leave as well.  It’s the first time that Annabeth has ever known the centaur to leave camp, and she approaches him after dinner to ask why.  The simple answer is that there’s been a problem with one of the satyrs at one of the schools, and he needs back up.  Annabeth asked if it was Grover, and Chiron’s lack of an answer gave her the same truth that words would have.

68.   The next time he comes back is a week before Christmas, and he takes the group of year round campers up to Olympus for the winter solstice.  It’s the third time Annabeth’s been to Olympus, and each time she’s more blown away by the design of it all.  However, she can’t help but think about different ways she would improve upon it--different statues, a reflecting pool, changes to the style of the Athena temple.  But, this is the first time they’ve been there while the gods are in session.  It’s the first time she meets her mother, who does little to acknowledge Annabeth’s presence, which leaves the young girl anxious and upset.  It makes her wonder whether the Yankees hat wasn’t a mistake and her mother really doesn’t care about her anyway.  It’s Thalia’s birthday, so she doesn’t think much of it when Luke slips away from the group to go off on his own.  After all, she thinks that being alone on a day like today is a pretty good idea too.

69.   Chiron leaves again immediately after the New Year to rejoin Grover in the city.  The satyr didn’t come back to camp over the holidays, thinking it might be better to stay closer to his demigod in case something were to happen.  It’s then that things at camp start getting weird.  The sky seems darker, and the storms--which have always passed around camp--seem to take longer and longer to part.  The sea’s starting to act up, too and the campers start to suspect that something went wrong.  Soon, there’s talk of deadlines and things being stolen, though no one can seem to expand on the details.  They all just seem to be information taken from snippets of dreams.  Once, Annabeth managed to catch Luke in a rare moment where he was alone and asked him what he thought of it all.  He said that it was ridiculous and nothing was stolen.  That it was just Zeus and Poseidon making a show and things would go back to normal soon.  It was strange how he almost seemed happier, after years of pulling away.  But Annabeth didn’t care about the sudden change.  She was just happy to have her Luke back.

70.   It’s a week after the summer session starts that Chiron returned, but Grover was still MIA, which is more than cause for concern normally.  But, Chiron promised that things were okay and that the satyr and his charge would be at camp soon.  At least, he hoped.  There’s a half-hearted joke made on her part about how terrible he is at directions and that maybe they just got side tracked.  But there’s an easy look shared between the two of them, as though they both know that things are about to change.

71.   As though on cue, she has a nightmare about the Great Prophecy that night.  But, she’s not sure whether or not it’s the nightmare or the storm outside that wakes her up.  Technically, it’s not raining in the camp, but they can still hear the wind and the waves going insane outside.  Even though it’s past curfew, Annabeth puts on her Yankees hat and sneaks outside to the Big House.  There, she sees Chiron watching some struggle happening up on the hill, illuminated only by lightning strikes.  She asks for answers that he doesn’t give and she has no choice but to watch the scene on the hill unfold.  Someone goes down and there’s a terrible moment where Annabeth is afraid she’s about to witness another half-blood get turned into a tree.  But the tree never comes.  Instead, there’s a boy that comes down the hill, dragging an unconscious Grover with him.  There’s something strange about this boy.  And that is that people don’t meet Percy Jackson.  Percy Jackson happens to people.  Annabeth is the first person in camp to become aware of this fact, and becomes aware of it immediately after his arrival.  Because right after arriving on the porch of the Big House, the kid passes out.  Chiron manages to get Grover onto his back, so Annabeth is left trying to haul an unconscious boy up off the floor, wrap his arms around her neck, and essentially half drag/half carry him on her back into the infirmary.  

72.  When Chiron tells her to keep an eye on the boy and make sure he lives to the next day, Annabeth is pretty sure that it’s actually her punishment for being out after curfew.  She’s up the rest of the night, and the few times she does doze off in the chair next to him, he wakes her up by talking in his sleep.  It becomes a pretty consistent cycle.  She’ll doze, he’ll start talking, she’ll wake up, wipe the drool off his face to keep him from drowning in it (she’ll only recognize the irony later), and wait for him to wake up.  She wants to talk to him before Chiron comes back down in the morning so she can find out if he knows anything about what’s going on.  After all, Annabeth has to hope that this is the kid she’s been waiting for.  The one that’ll get her a ticket out of this place.  Even if he is kind of scrawny and doesn’t look like he’ll amount to much.  It’s the black hair and the lightning bolt that struck as soon as he was over the hill that makes her certain this kid is another child of Zeus.  Besides, he was the one who sired Thalia, and she doubted that any of the other gods were dumb enough to break their pact.

73.  Grover comes to about two hours before Percy does.  Annabeth had just finished spooning ambrosia into Percy’s mouth and was trying to ask him questions, but he seemed entirely too groggy for such a thing.  Besides, by the time he would have actually been able to give her any real information, Chiron had come back down to the infirmary to check on how Percy was coming.  He had brought Argus, who relieved Annabeth from her post and she went off with Grover, who told her the basics of who Percy was.  Together, they walked up the hill to retrieve the Minotaur horn as Grover tried to recollect what had happened the night before.  It was certainly choppy and there were pieces where he couldn’t quite remember what was going on, but he managed to get the gist of all that had happened.  And the idea of the kid, drooling in the infirmary, being smart and skillful enough to destroy the Minotaur with its own horn seemed pretty far fetched.  At the same time though, it kind of reinforced her idea that this kid was going to be a pretty big deal.

74.  Like most other days when a new camper arrives, Annabeth is excused from her activities and stays on the porch until the kid’s ready for a tour.  There is a slight exception in the fact that she’s sent on to get a spot ready for him in the Hermes cabin while Chiron takes him around the first part, which she does not complain about.  It means she gets to see Luke again.  She catches the Hermes cabin at the rock climbing wall, where she tells him all about how she saw Percy coming over the camp border and how she’s pretty sure that he’s the next Zeus kid.  Then again, she said the same thing about Will Solace and about half a dozen other campers, and each time, they were claimed by someone else, so Luke just smiles and nods.  He looks better now, far happier than he seemed to have been in a long time and it automatically puts Annabeth in a better mood.  She hangs out with him for the rest of the activity and grabs a book on the way back, before waiting outside of the Hermes cabin for Chiron and Percy to show up.

75.  After Percy makes the plumbing explode in the one girl’s bathroom, Annabeth refuses to go in there for a solid week.  Instead, she showers and does everything else in the bathroom across camp.  Logically, she knows what happened was because of something Percy did, but the feeling of being doused with toilet water is still too fresh in her mind to be comfortable.

76.  The first night that Percy’s at camp, Chiron mentions that it might be a good idea if she tutors him in Ancient Greek.  Personally, Annabeth can think of about twelve things she’d rather do than teach a newbie how to stumble through Homer, but she agrees anyway.  It’s totally a strategic move.  She figured that by doing something Chiron wanted her to, it’ll convince him she’s not too young for a quest.  And, if this Percy kid gets a quest before her, he might feel like he has to take her along since she spent time tutoring him.

77.  During their tutoring sessions, Annabeth has a hard time whether Percy’s an idiot or if he’s just trying to make her frustrated when he gets stuck reading something.  It took them two days to get through the alphabet, and the next five to get through the first few lines of the Odyssey.  It’s also during these sessions that she tries to teach Percy about the actual stories that happened that inspired some of the Greek myths.  But, since their sessions typically aren’t that long and it’s more important he learn to read Greek, they only get through a handful, and most of them deal more with who the gods are and what they represent than anything else.

78.  When Percy gets claimed, Annabeth supposed that it made sense.  Granted, she was hoping for a Zeus kid, because she had gotten on so well with Thalia.  But, the fact that Percy started irritating her from the moment he showed up was some underlying animosity because of who their parents were.  As she knelt with the rest of the campers, there was a comical mental image that flashed through her mind of Poseidon staring smugly at Athena like, ‘check out your daughter bowing before my son,’ but it was one that Annabeth really didn’t appreciate all that much.

79.  She tries to bribe Malcolm to take over Percy’s Ancient Greek lessons, but he seems just as put off by the idea of working with a Poseidon kid as she does.  Whenever she has the chance, she tries to make sure that she picks stories that she feels shows Percy’s dad in a not so flattering light.  Somehow, it makes her feel better.  Those days don’t last long though before Percy’s being granted a quest and Annabeth pretty much invites herself along.  After all, if Percy is the kid that’s supposed to help her make her mark on the world, she can’t let him get killed so soon after coming to camp.

80.  Between Grover’s snoring and Percy talking in his sleep, there were very few nights that Annabeth had a decent night’s sleep.  There are some nights when she stays up well after her watch has ended and that’s when she teaches Percy about the constellations, the way Luke once taught her when they were first on the run.  It’s during these nights that Annabeth starts to think that maybe the son of Poseidon isn’t completely hopeless, and it’s with horror that she realizes she actually has a crush on the idiot.  She chalks it up to the fact that it’s nostalgia and she’s projecting her feelings for Luke onto him and she becomes a little snarkier for the next several days.

81.  It’s only after that they work together--without Grover pulling their teeth to get them to cooperate--on the Thrill Ride-o-Love that Annabeth realizes for the first time what a good team the two of them make.  And it’s then she thinks that maybe her mother was wrong for holding a grudge for so long.  So, she decides to become his friend.

82.  When they make it to the Underworld, Annabeth wonders how many people down here that she knows, and whether or not any of them would recognize her.  There have been old campers and former counselors, her cousins, her aunt, and she half wonders if Thalia’s spirit might be roaming around as well.  But, they don’t have time to really “explore,” since they do need to get in, get the bolt, get Percy’s mom, and get out.

83.  There are other, little things that make Annabeth decide that going home after summer session is a good idea.  She realizes that maybe her mother held grudges too long and didn’t want to face the same fate.  Seeing Cerberus makes her miss the dog that she used to have when she lived with her dad and, even though he ran away years before, it still brings back good memories of days before Emily or Matthew and Bobby.  When she gets back to camp, Annabeth has a letter waiting for her from her dad.  Apparently, Chiron had written to him to tell Frederick where exactly his daughter was headed should anything go wrong.  The letter invites her back to try one last time living with him and it includes another apology and the promise to do better.  She writes him back at the end of July, after Grover’s left for his quest and the counselors are picking out the bead designs, telling him to get her room ready for her return.

84.  When people tell her that it’s Luke’s fault that Percy was stung by the pit scorpion, she doesn’t want to believe them.  Annabeth tells them that it has to have been some mistake and that he would never do anything that cruel.  But, after searching the camp in an attempt to find Luke and explain what’s going on, Annabeth has to accept that people were telling her the truth about him.  That he was the reason that Percy was put back into the infirmary.  And while she’s mad at Luke for hurting her new friend, part of Annabeth still wants to find out why he did what he did and how she can fix it.  Because the Luke she knew would never do that.  There’s a brief moment where she considers running away and going off to find him and join him.  But then, Percy wakes up and Annabeth realizes that Luke’s not the only person she has in her life anymore.

85.  School proves to be complicated, to say the least.  There are kids that she knew from the last time she lived with her dad in her classes, and it’s hard explaining where exactly she went for the last few years.  The ones who have younger siblings the same age as Matthew and Bobby are even harder to convince that she just went to live “with her mom’s family” for awhile.  Her grades are great, but Annabeth kept getting kicked out of class for correcting her teachers.  For the most part, life with her dad, brothers, and step mom is fine.  They still argue, but it’s not as bad, and Annabeth firmly believes that there is some progress made.  Still, civilian life is exhausting in a different way than her demigod one and finding new excuses to get out of classes and soccer practice to fight a monster becomes increasingly more difficult.  She’s glad when the school year ends and she’s able to go back to New York.

86.  Her oath to Chiron when she swore on the River Styx to protect Percy is still binding.

87.  It took Luke poisoning Thalia’s tree for Annabeth to finally admit that something might be wrong with Luke.  If he could hurt the one other person in their family without a second thought, then he couldn’t be the same person she knew.  She spends the next week willing to tear him limb from limb for finally killing Thalia and threatening their home and she doesn’t believe him for a second when he mentions that Thalia would have been on his side.  

88.  Her family used to spend a week during the summer at Virginia Beach.  Annabeth’s step mother found that the beaches in North and South Carolina were quieter and had more to do.  But, the air force base near the beach was what kept drawing Frederick back year after year.  There were so many things about the aviation history of Virginia, so it was hard for him to leave that particular place.

89.  When they reach Circe’s island, Annabeth almost hates to admit that she really likes the way the makeover makes her look.  After all, she spent years growing up with girls that were just drop dead gorgeous.  Being a normal thirteen year old definitely comes with self-esteem issues to begin with.  Being a thirteen year old who grew up watching guys fawn all over daughters of the other cabins gives one a whole other batch of insecurities.  On the island, her typically knotted, curly hair is finally tamed into a braid, the makeup she has on is just enough to make her features stand out, and the dress is surprisingly comfortable and well fitted.  It’s one of the few times in her life that Annabeth has felt truly beautiful.  And, even though the rational part of her knows that those things shouldn’t matter, she still wants that.

90.  The summer that they do go to get the fleece feels more like a transitional time in Annabeth’s life than any she’s ever known.  The people who are thrown together on the quest, both new and old friends from Annabeth’s life almost seems like a shift.  But that’s always how her life has seemed: constantly changing, constantly evolving, never permanent.  So, when Thalia comes back and looks exactly the same, it’s enough to bring tears to Annabeth’s eyes.  Part of it is from the sheer joy of having someone so special back in her life.  But, when the one person who thought would never let her down has turned her back on her, and the people she had sworn would be her enemies turn out to be her closest friends, it’s nice that Thalia’s still the same.

91.  Even though Thalia’s a year older than Annabeth when she comes back, she manipulates the mist so they put the two of them in nearly all the same classes.  Nearly because Thalia threatened to stab herself in the eye if she took the 3-D Architectural Design course Annabeth was so excited about.  With the two of them rooming together and being in (almost) all the same classes, it just almost becomes second nature for one of them to start talking and the other one to finish that person’s sentence.  They become so in sync that it’s almost frightening, especially for the other students.  Especially when they decide to pull some elaborate prank on their classmates or start up a new game among all the students.  Once, they started up an intense game of assassin, where students were constantly on a mission to “kill” each other, taking various bandanas away from their victims.  Thalia and Annabeth allied immediately, designing elaborate plans to “off” their classmates using various strategic plans Annabeth had learned during her time at camp.  They finally got detention for it when both girls ran a teacher over in the hall in pursuit of their victim.  Thankfully, due to her power to manipulate the mist, Thalia got them out of it.  She just didn’t want to do it, and Annabeth had soccer practice that her coach would kill her if she missed.  Once a month, their school holds a dance and Annabeth lives for these evenings.  She’s likes being able to put on a little bit of makeup and spend the night just dancing with Thalia and her other friends at school.

92.  Annabeth reaches out to the Hunters of Artemis the day after her dad announces he’s moving to San Francisco.  He promises that there’s room for her, and that he’ll send her on a plane to camp every summer.  But that’s not the point.  California is a place where Greek demigods just aren’t supposed to go.  Sure, the Underworld’s down there, and Mount Tam, but Chiron always acted as though there was another reason Greeks shouldn’t be there.  Later, she’ll learn about Camp Jupiter, and think that’s a ridiculous secret and reason to stay away from California.  But, the fact that her dad is willing to uproot the Chase family on a whim for a book, right when Annabeth is starting to feel at home in Virginia again, means that that’s not the permanent place she expected.  At least with the Hunters of Artemis, there’s permanence in immortality.  Permanence in companionship.  And then the fact that the one guy Annabeth’s convinced herself she will ever love has gone rogue and tried to kill their mutual best friend definitely doesn’t help.

93.  Thalia met the Hunters after she joined up with Luke, but before they found Annabeth.  She hadn’t gotten along with Zoe then.  So, naturally, Thalia spent most of her time talking about the Hunters--when she would talk about the Hunters--dissing them and their lieutenant.  During her time at camp, Annabeth finally comes in contact with this infamous band of girls and thinks they’re okay.  They only meet twice, but she can definitely see the appeal of staying young and adventuring forever.

94.  It never occurs to her what might happen when she jumps on that manticore’s back.  Sure, she figures she’ll fall to her death, but it’s worth it.  She’ll have saved her friends and two new demigods, and go out a hero.  It’s what Annabeth has been convinced will happen since she was seven.  She never expects to end up in San Francisco.  She hasn’t been to her dad’s new house yet, and Annabeth can’t help but wonder how far it is away from her new prison.  But it’s not just a prison.  The instant she sees Luke, suffering under the weight of the sky, all her former resentment of him completely breaks.  He looks so scared and so much like the Luke she knew and loved, and there’s not even a second thought as she takes the sky from him.

95.  Every moment is pure agony, but it’s Luke that keeps her going.  He feeds her ambrosia when the others aren’t looking.  And, when they do catch him once, he says that Annabeth has to keep her strength up in order to catch their real target.  She figures he means Thalia, and Annabeth seriously considers letting the sky crush her--crush all of them.  It’d end her agony, as well as the idiots up on the mountain with her.  But, no doubt it would keep falling and crush the rest of the world with it.  So, she eats the ambrosia, and even though the hairs on her forearms end up getting singed off, it keeps her going long enough before Artemis gets there and takes it.

96.  Her execution is scheduled for the winter solstice, and Annabeth finds it strangely ironic.  That was when Luke first stole the bolt and their whole world shifted, and it seems fitting for her life to end that same day as well.  Luke spends some evenings talking to her, trying to convince her that he’s doing the right thing, and for her to join him.  He speaks of the old days, and how Thalia will decide to join him once she arrives.  She ends up spitting on him, which only makes him madder and he has her death pushed up a day.  He does offer her the chance to repent and join Kronos--join him.  But Annabeth can tell that, even before he’s possessed, that he’s not her Luke anymore.  He’s under the influence of a Titan and it’s only through defeating Kronos that she might be able to save Luke.

97.  The first time Annabeth sees her dad’s Sopwith Camel is when he comes in, shooting up the place with his bronze bullets.  If he wasn’t swooping in to save their life, she’s pretty sure he would be winning the ‘Dorkiest Dad’ award for his latest purchase.

98.  Annabeth realizes that she’s starting to feel more than just a crush towards Percy when he shows up with Thalia and Zoe on Mt. Tam.  After all, it’s kind of hard to deny that someone’s pretty incredible when they travel cross country to save you from being pinned underneath the sky.  Still, she thinks it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever done, traveling that far without her and risking his life on some half-brained quest.  When she would see the gray streak in his hair though, she always felt bad.  He held up the sky for her, and he suffered because of her, and that gray in their hair was a constant reminder of that.  Annabeth was glad when it finally grew out.

99.  Olympic parties hold nothing to the dances her boarding school held.  There’s constant dancing and the minor gods are much better on their feet than any of the other guys at her school.  If she had had it her way, the party would have gone on a week longer so Annabeth could have danced with all of them.  The food also proves to be a step above the stale cookies and fruit punch, but that seems to be a given.  When Percy finally asks her to dance--without Annabeth having to punch him first--she hears the same song he does: sad and slow, but a little hopeful.

100.  Two things happen when Annabeth goes back to stay with her dad instead of going back to New York.  First, her brothers get copies of every single Harry Potter movie up to that point.  One day (and night) while she’s babysitting them, the three of them marathon the first four.  It was the first time Annabeth had ever seen them--being at camp does have its disadvantages--and she instantly is drawn to the Draco character.  The blonde hair, blue eyes, and the boy who wants so desperately to win the approval of his father reminds her so much of another boy that she knows.  One that’s about to lose the very essence of who he is.  The second thing that happens is around the first few weeks of March.  She’s home alone, working on some homework, while her dad and Emily are at one of Matthew and Bobby’s basketball games.  A knock on the door and Luke’s there.  Scared and unsure, and pleading with her to come with him.  She wants to believe him that something’s wrong, that together they can fight it, but when she suggests asking for help, he shuts down and shuts her out.  Annabeth begged him to come in, to let her call Chiron because it couldn’t be too late, but she refused to go with him.  The memories of what happened at Christmas were still too fresh for her to trust him like that again, and she thinks that he can sense it.  Thinks that that might be part of the reason he ends up telling her to kill him then.  But she can’t do it.  Because, no matter what, he’s still Luke.  He’s still the boy who saved her all those years ago and who she’s still in love with and the thought of him dying breaks her heart.  It’s this day that will forever be one of Annabeth’s biggest ‘what ifs.’  What if she had gone with him?  What if she had killed him then?  What if he had agreed to come inside?  What if she had found another way to save him?  What if he was still around?  What if...?

[mastcomm]

Impeachment, Coronavirus, Terry Jones: Your Wednesday Briefing

(Want to get this briefing by email? Here’s the sign-up.)

Good morning.

We’re covering a late night in the Senate, the spread of the deadly coronavirus from China, and new details about the hacking of Jeff Bezos’ cellphone.

Opening arguments at the impeachment trial

The House managers will begin their case against President Trump this afternoon, after a marathon Senate debate over rules for the trial ended early this morning. Here’s what to watch for when proceedings resume at 1 p.m. Eastern.

The oral arguments follow a series of party-line votes in which Senate Republicans turned back Democrats’ attempts to subpoena documents and compel White House officials to testify.

The debate lasted more than 12 hours, and became so acrimonious that Chief Justice John Roberts reminded the impeachment managers and the president’s lawyers to “remember where they are” and return to “civil discourse.”

The details: Read excerpts from the articles of impeachment and see how the parties diverge on the facts.

Closer look: The trial camerawork is basic, but our TV critic found the ritual striking.

Related: Mr. Trump criticized his political enemies, including “corrupt” Democrats, during a wide-ranging news conference today before he left Davos, Switzerland.

Another angle: Mr. Trump’s legal team has argued that abuse of power is not an impeachable offense, a position contradicted by many legal experts, including, at one point, Attorney General William Barr. In 2018, while in private practice, Mr. Barr wrote a memo saying that presidents who misused their authority were subject to impeachment.

Coronavirus reaches the U.S.

The World Health Organization is to meet today to determine whether a deadly new respiratory illness should be declared a “public health emergency of international concern.” There is growing evidence that the disease can spread from person to person, although it’s unclear how easily.

The outbreak has killed at least nine people and infected more than 400 in five countries, including the U.S. Here’s what we know about the coronavirus and a map of where it has reached.

Yesterday: A Washington State man who had recently traveled to Wuhan, China, where the virus originated, became the first confirmed case outside Asia, federal health officials announced. Passengers arriving from Wuhan will now be screened at five U.S. airports.

Background: The virus is from the same family that caused outbreaks of SARS and MERS, which killed hundreds of people in dozens of countries. This infection seems less severe, however, according to one specialist.

Another angle: A Chinese health official warned today that the virus could spread further during the weeklong Lunar New Year holiday, which begins Friday.

What is the U.S. military’s role in Africa?

A brazen attack by Shabab fighters on a base in Kenya this month killed three Americans, the largest number of U.S. military-related fatalities in Africa in more than two years.

The Jan. 5 assault was largely overshadowed by the crisis with Iran, but it’s now drawing scrutiny from Congress and the Pentagon and raising questions about the American military’s mission in Africa, where it stations more than 5,000 troops.

Background: The Shabab, an East African terrorist group affiliated with Al Qaeda, have vowed to attack Americans wherever they can, although their campaign has largely been confined to Somalia.

How we know: Our article is based on interviews with a dozen American military officials or other people briefed on the attack. Several spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss a security failure that remains under investigation.

Channeling Barack Obama in Iowa

With less than two weeks before the state’s caucuses, Pete Buttigieg is invoking the former president, who won there in 2008 on his first run for the White House.

“The same state that took a chance on a young guy with a funny name, who a lot of folks didn’t think could win 12 years ago,” Mr. Buttigieg told a crowd in Council Bluffs, “this state could help us make history one more time.”

Mr. Buttigieg is crisscrossing Iowa this week while three rivals — Senators Amy Klobuchar, Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren — are in Washington for the impeachment trial.

Related: In a new documentary series, Hillary Clinton sharply criticizes Mr. Sanders and declines to say whether she would endorse him if he won the Democratic nomination. “Nobody likes him, nobody wants to work with him, he got nothing done,” she says.

If you have 11 minutes, this is worth it

Acclaimed chef moves to the woods

Iliana Regan, above, created a Michelin-starred restaurant in Chicago and published a celebrated food memoir last summer.

But her dream lies in northern Michigan, where she and her wife have turned a four-bedroom log cabin into an inn. There, Ms. Regan is attempting to redefine what it means to be an American chef.

Here’s what else is happening

Remembering Auschwitz: With the 75th anniversary of the liberation of the Nazi death camp approaching, world leaders including Vice President Mike Pence gathered in Jerusalem today to remember the Holocaust and speak out against anti-Semitism. Here are the latest updates.

Snapshot: Above, Toksook Bay, Alaska, a remote village where the 2020 census began on Tuesday. The Census Bureau hopes to overcome language barriers, isolation and distrust of government as it tallies minority groups that have long been undercounted.

In memoriam: Terry Jones was a member of the British comedy troupe Monty Python and also had success as a director, screenwriter and author. He died on Tuesday at 77.

A Hall of Fame Yankee: Derek Jeter fell one vote shy of becoming the second player elected unanimously to the Baseball Hall of Fame. Larry Walker, who spent most of his career with the Colorado Rockies, was also voted in.

Late-night comedy: All eyes were on the Senate: “It’s a pivotal day in the history of the republic,” Stephen Colbert said. “Soon, we will find out if breaking the law is illegal.”

What we’re reading: This article in The New Yorker. Brent Staples, a member of The Times’s editorial board, calls it “a vivid new history” of “how slave rebellions (not white abolitionists) defeated slavery in the hell that was the Caribbean.”

Now, a break from the news

Fifty-one years ago, another celebrity couple took a very different approach to intrusion.

John Lennon had become a global star with the Beatles, but in 1969, the band was breaking up. The other Beatles’ lack of enthusiasm for Lennon’s devotion to the conceptual artist Yoko Ono added to the tension — and further whetted the public appetite for gossipy details.

After the two married in March of that year, in a hastily arranged ceremony in Gibraltar, they knew there was no way to avoid being set upon by reporters and photographers.

So they invited them in. They took up residence for days at a hotel in Amsterdam, holding open hours from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. They later did the same in Montreal, using the “bed-ins” to promote global peace.

That’s it for this briefing. See you next time.

— Chris

Thank you Mark Josephson and Eleanor Stanford provided the break from the news. Andrea Kannapell, the Briefings editor, wrote today’s Back Story. You can reach the team at briefing@nytimes.com.

P.S. • We’re listening to “The Daily.” Today’s episode is about the impeachment trial. • Here’s today’s Mini Crossword, and a clue: Guitarist’s time to shine (four letters). You can find all our puzzles here. • Nicole Perlroth, who covers cybersecurity for The Times, answered readers’ questions about Russian hacking and the 2020 election on Reddit.

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