#die the every next turn. it's funny to me. divine prophecy

[automatonknight]

i have. no perfume and a 3v4 fight to go through. i'm going to be honest i don't think i can survive that no matter how hard i try

[sadoeuphemist]

Stories I thought about writing, but didn’t:

my voice is poisonous, a gift from a strange god my parents once befriended. I’m careful not to speak, but I know they’re afraid.

A poison-voiced girl is born to deaf parents, but falls in love with a hearing boy. Their courtship is marked on her end by a thrilling restraint, biting her lip, knowing she could kill him with an indiscretion; he, on the other hand, longs to see her act without inhibition. He manages to make her laugh, sigh, gasp out in wonder - each time he falls ill from the poison of her voice, but is undeterred even in his convalescence, returning renewed in his goal to tease another sound out of her.

Her parents tell her to break it off; she’ll kill him. She reluctantly agrees. He refuses, pleads with her, grasps her hands so she can’t sign. In anguish she cries out his name — but lo! he does not sicken, does not die. It turns out his repeated exposures to her voice have mithridatized him against it. She can speak around him freely! They both agree that this development has taken a lot of the excitement out of the relationship, but it has been replaced with a greater casualness and intimacy that balances it out.

I can see the angels in their true form, a thousand splendid eyes and all. They think it’s funny, and have taken to hanging around my apartment 

The angels start making excuses to keep showing up at my apartment, in the manner of the annunciation, but for increasingly trivial reasons. They come bearing tidings about how I should definitely get the turkey wrap for lunch, which brand of fabric softener I should buy, how that quarter I’ll find on the sidewalk is a sign that I am favored by God. They come bearing bad tidings too: The Lord has heard of all the evil in your printer, and has sent us here to jam it. Their presence becomes completely overbearing, but they are insistent. There’s a reason you see us in our true forms, they say, all their splendid eyes shining. Is it so hard to believe that the God that formed every atom of you in the womb should watch over you always, that every mundane moment of your existence in this world is shot through with the divine?

There was a body in the river, ice cold and snow white. Sometimes it was all the way dead. Sometimes it sat up and talked to me.

A king has declared that whoever can complete the following tasks shall marry his daughter: 1) to recover a lost treasure stolen from his family hundreds of years ago; 2)  to name the start of the pact between men and horses; and 3) to find a cure to the plague ravaging the land.

Our plucky folk hero helps an old lady who sits by the river; she tells him of the snow white body within, who has sat up and spoken to her at odd times throughout her life. It is the spirit of the glacier: the glacier melts, and forms the river; layer by layer the past frozen in it is uncovered, parts of it living and parts of it dead. Our hero builds many bonfires and melts the glacier faster; the body lives and dies and lives many times over and tells him the three answers. 1) The thief fell into a crevasse and was frozen over; the ice is melted now, and the treasure can be recovered. 2) Iron horseshoes frozen in the glacier reveal the pact is many thousands of years old. 3) The plague is an old one, frozen and released anew with the glacier’s melting; it is carried in the livestock, and they must be slaughtered.

The hero solves the king’s tasks and marries his daughter. Presumably the new king is then faced with the challenge of the rising sea levels; no idea how that plays out.

“We’re all nice to each other here,” they told us, “we’ve got angels in the hills. They like it when we’re nice. And they see everything.”

This one’s tough to summarize adequately. Two men are going door to door, seemingly taking a survey of the religious beliefs in a small town. They finish, sit together in their car. People have been very cooperative. One of the men remarks that the local religious beliefs are disappointingly unremarkable: yes, they believe in angels watching from the hills, but most people believe in an omniscient God watching over them, and whether it is God or his intercessors, does it make a significant difference?

They sit in the car. Perhaps they smoke in the lazy sunlight. They have finished their survey ahead of time. One of them proposes: Suppose we have a picnic lunch up in the hills?

They park at the base of the hill and walk up. Lovely day. They spread out a blanket from the car, stretch their legs out on the grass, take off their coats, loosen their ties. They’ve brought their packed lunch, sandwiches, a thermos of lemonade. They talk about how pleasant all the people were. Their kind of religion seems so ... brittle, one of the men remarks. If I thought there was someone waiting to punish me the moment I stepped out of line, I’d want to do something horrible just to get it over with.

You think so? says his partner. I think just the opposite. The grand problem with religion is that there aren’t enough consequences for wickedness. I know if I saw the wicked being smote down on a regular basis, I would very satisfied in my religion indeed.

Well, of course you would; you’re a sadist.

Me? A sadist? Hardly.

You’re a sadist, his partner says teasingly. A sadist and brute.

They smile at each other. Idle conversation. There is a suggestion that they have visited many such towns and cities, asking the same question, but have yet to receive a satisfactory answer. At one point one of them notes that there’s something in the trees, but this remark is ignored and nothing is ever made of it. The conversation turns back to whether the angels in the hills are real or not. The ‘sadist’ stands up, declares his intent to do something wicked to test them. He marches around, swinging his arms, then looks around at the trees and puts his hands on his hips and laughs.

You know, up here away from society, he declares, I can’t think of a single wicked thing to do!

(Maybe a conversation here about how he could tear branches from trees, despoil the scenery, find an animal to kill; but then again animals in nature strip bark from trees, kill each other bloodily all the time, tear each other to bits, so how wicked could that be, really?)

He looks down at his partner still lying back on the blanket. Unless, of course, I were to do something wicked to you.

Whatever happens next, it is very leisurely. The scene is easy, very relaxed. Lovely day. Calm. Bright blue sky. Clouds float across it, white like feathered wings, and then pass, leaving not a trace behind.

None of us can imagine what life was like before the Clocks came, before clockwork cities, and all their technology. They rebuilt our crumbling society, in perfect, mechanical order. 

Brief musings on a hypothetical pre-Clock society. A society built around the sun, all buildings roofless, everyone’s necks craned upward. Cities built running north to south so as not to block anyone’s view of the rise and set. A society built around hourglasses, everyone judging the passage of time by the sand puddling around their feet, knees, waists, clambering up onto growing dunes, waiting for the flip, for the sand to slowly drain away and the furnishings of their homes to be uncovered. Perhaps this was our unimaginable life before the Clocks came: sands stretching far away and bare, the hypothetical counterpart bulb of an hourglass reflected invisible above us, empty and vast with unrealized possibility, waiting to be reset.

When I was very young, I met a bear at the edge of the woods. Before I could play dead, it bowed to me.

Jokey little fic where a child is instructed on the etiquette of bears: when to bow, when to curtsy, when to raise your hands and make yourself as large as possible, when to climb a tree, when to play dead. (Note that grizzlies are territorial, so if they attack you and play dead they’ll leave you alone because the threat is neutralized; whereas black bears are not territorial, so playing dead will do no good because a black bear will only attack if it deliberately wants to fuck you up.)

I was given very specific instructions. Go to the rosebush on a clear night. As the moonlight turns the roses silver, feed them three drops of blood.

After years of trying for a child, a couple turns to an old witch to help. The woman is instructed to eat a rose from a magical rosebush. If she first pricks her finger and stains the rose red with her blood, then she will have a son, ruddy and robust and bold in battle; if she visits the bush on a clear night and eats a rose painted silver by moonlight, then she will have a daughter, as pale and graceful and elegant as the moon.

The woman is uneasy with the implications of this binary, and says so. The witch smiles and gives her a new set of instructions. So she pricks her finger at night, her blood painted black by the moonlight, and nine months later gives birth to a child as black as a rose, who is neither boy nor girl.

Never manged to come up with a plot for this one. The kid grows up to have a career fulfilling all those “Neither man nor woman” prophecies? Eh. Kinda corny. There’s something about gender roles in fairy tales here, but I couldn’t put it together.

Not for the first time, the company time loop drill had gone very, very wrong.

I did actually write a response for this one, but it got too long and I gave up on it. Summary of the rest of the idea I had:

Time resets. Nagle confirms that it is both an actual time loop and a drill; the company is doing a controlled time loop to prepare them for the real thing. People complain. What’s the point of a drill when an actual time loop would let you keep doing things over and over until you get it right? Nagle points out that could take years, subjectively, and that this is a controlled experience where he has a code to abort the exercise if anything seriously goes wrong. He insists they try to make it work.

They go through a bunch of loops. Don’t succeed. It’s highly technical stuff that none of them are trained for. Morale drops. People start complaining, they’ve spent hours at this, they should be off duty by now. Nagle points out there’s a ruling, established with VR training, that companies don’t need to pay their employees according to their subjective experience of time, and officially they’ve only spent 34 minutes at this.

More loops. Morale drops further. People start demanding Nagle use the abort code, threatening to quit. Nagle points out that while they’re in this time loop, their actions are consequence-free, but once he ends the loop they’ll have to live with their decisions for the rest of their lives. Are they sure they really want to quit?

At that point someone loses it and kills Nagle. Shock. Panic. Some satisfaction. He’s reborn the next loop, starts screaming about it - someone kills him again. Complete social breakdown. Eventually some people decide, fuck it, let’s just live in this loop forever. Killing Nagle becomes a standard thing they do at the start of every loop, so that he can’t input the abort code. They go through various reconfigurations of their social group - orgies, riots, open paranoia where everyone colonizes a different part of the building, regressing to primitivism, open warfare between various sects, rebuilding of society along different axes of thought. Everyone starts thinking of themselves as immortal, they start calling themselves things like ‘Chronobog of the Infinite Plane of Despair’ or whatever; the narration gets increasingly surreal.

After god knows how many cycles of this, everyone finally achieves an equilibrium of perfect enlightenment. They know what must be done. They leave Nagle alive, he watches as they move in perfect unison to unlock the server room and overcome all the obstacles and repair the tachyon servers, loop is finally terminated, normal flow of time resumes.

Nagle stands up, gives a speech, starts congratulating them on completing the drill. As he talks, everyone can feel the rapport they’ve built start to slip away - they no longer understand each other perfectly outside of the context of those 34 minutes. Time is moving forward again, and with it introducing unfamiliarity, uncertainty, an impossible onslaught of variables that they cannot predict or prepare for, and they are all moving inescapably further from each other even as they glance around and try to catch each other’s eyes and keep holding on to that feeling of perfect unity - but it’s too late now, they are strangers behind familiar faces, all of them heading in their own directions, going to be returning to their own separate lives; that moment of solidarity they had is past.

And then Nagle claps his hands at them and says, “OK, drill’s over, everyone back to work!”

[mythologyfolklore]

Marpessa isn’t into gods (and Ares makes a speech about love)

(My take on the myth where Marpessa rejects Apollon out of worry, that he would abandon her in old age)

.

Apollon was arguing with a mortal man over the probably most gorgeous girl he had ever seen.

Who did that boy think he was anyway? Daring to compete with him for a girl's hand! Him, the god of light, music, medicine, prophecy and so much more! This puny mortal man couldn't compare with him to save his life and he had the gall to point an arrow at his face!

“Lower your bow”, he ordered. “Cease this nonsense. You're insane to attempt to go against a god.”

“I don't care, if it's crazy!”, Idas spat. “I will stop you from taking away my bride, no matter what!”

“Cute”, Apollon commented, “But there is nothing you can offer her, that I don't have as well.”

“Sure is!”, Idas spat. “How about true love and a faithful and caring husband?”

The god gasped at the insolence: “Are you saying that I'm a liar and a player?!”

“No, I'm saying that you're an arrogant prick, who only wants her for her beauty!”

By now Apollon was too angry to just point out, that Idas was being hypocritical, since Marpessa's beauty had been the reason why he had abducted her in the first place.

With a face like thunder he pulled out the sword that was hidden beneath his chiton (and no, that was not a euphemism, that was an actual sword). “That's it! You must be hubristic or suicidal – or both! Either way, enough of the useless talk. Let's duke it out. Single combat, for the sake of fairness I won't be using any of my divine abilities.”

Idas nodded grimly. “So be it then.”

Then the god and the mortal engaged in mortal combat, while poor Marpessa just stood at the side, not knowing what to do.

This lasted for several hours and it was getting nowhere.

But then, all of the sudden a voice boomed: “EVERYBODY SETTLE DOWN!”

And in a flash of lightning, Zeus and Ares were standing between the contestants, driving them apart.

“Cease this pointless fighting right now!”, Zeus ordered. “This is getting ridiculous and the noise can be heard all the way up to Olympos.”

“Yep”, Ares nodded. “At first I thought it was funny, but then I looked down and saw, that you're fightin' over my granddaughter like she's some kinda prize.”

Ares' granddaughter, huh? Well, that explained why the oaf of a war god was here.

“So”, Zeus said, “why don't we just ask the lady herself? Has that occurred to you?”

Apollon felt just a little awkward, because in his case the answer was no.

Idas cleared his throat, making the three gods glare at him.

“In all respect”, he coughed, “Marpessa agreed to elope with me, because we're in love with each other and-”

“Did she?”, Ares questioned coolly. “Certainly didn't look or sound like that to me earlier-”

“No, no”, Marpessa finally spoke up, “He really didn't abduct me. I was just fearful, because the chariot was so fast. The speed was scary.”

“Huh. Sorry, my bad”, Ares apologised. “But her father (my son) just drowned himself in a river in despair, when you made off with his only child, so do forgive me, if I'm not the most reasonable.”

“My father is dead …?”

Zeus clapped his hands to get everybody's attention. “No time for this. Let's get it over with. Everybody be silent, except for Marpessa. This young lady here will choose who she wants to be with and the loser has to accept her decision. Is that clear?”

The two contestants nodded and Zeus turned to his great-granddaughter: “Well then, child. Make your choice.”

Marpessa looked back and forth between the god and the Argonaut.

For a few minutes, she considered.

Eventually she addressed Apollon (he could hear her heart racing in her chest): “Phoibos Apollon, Life-Giver and Lord of the Oracle …”

“Just Apollon will do”, he told her gently and tried not to look too nervous.

She swallowed and went on: “Please forgive me, but I choose Idas.”

The god of light felt all colour drain from his face, while Idas cheered in triumph and danced around joyfully, like young men in love had the tendency to do.

Great. Now that bold son of Poseidon got to be all smug and happy, while-

Oh, what was that? Ah, that was Apollon's heart being shattered into a thousand pieces! Again.

“Wh-what?! Wh-why?!”, he choked. “What does he have that I don't?!”

“Mortality”, she answered.

“What?!”

“Let me explain”, the young woman pleaded. “You're without a doubt the most handsome man I have ever seen – no offense, o King of the Gods …”

“None taken”, Zeus laughed in good humour.

“… I know what I would gain with you, Apollon”, Marpessa continued. “You're the god of many wonderful and terrible things and abundant in talents and virtues like no other. You could give me everything: adventure, excitement, and so on. But you're ageless and immortal. I'm not. I will age and die. You love me now, because I'm young and beautiful, but how will it be then? Will you still call me the most beautiful woman you have ever seen, when my face is covered in wrinkles and kiss the top of my hair, that by then will have gone grey? Will you be there, when I die? Will you cry, when I'm gone? Will you remember me fondly, because I delighted you in my youth?”

The god of music was speechless.

The question had hit him right in the gut. He hadn't thought about that – never had, because it had never been necessary. His lovers usually either broke up with him after a while, or they died young. Or he didn't get lucky in the first place, like now.

“Your silence says it all”, Marpessa sighed. “You wouldn't – perhaps even couldn't – stay with me for the rest of my life. But Idas would. He truly loves me. We will grow old together and, for all of his adventures, he will never abandon me.”

The Argonaut hugged her from behind and she turned her head to smile at him.

No, there was no chance he could convince her to change her mind, Apollon realised.

Suddenly there were sniffles behind him and to everyone's surprise, Ares was wiping his eyes.

“That was one of the most beautiful speeches I have ever heard!”, he sobbed. “I just can't even! Anyway, well chosen, my granddaughter. You two have my blessing. Off ya go!”

She beamed at the war god and let Idas help her back onto his chariot.

And off they went.

Zeus gently pat Apollon's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “Better luck next time, my son”, he said. Then he vanished in a flash of lightning, leaving Apollon with Ares of all gods.

“Won't you leave too?”, the god of prophecy asked.

Ares shook his head. “Ya don't wanna be alone as much as ya think ya do.”

“Ares, please.”

“M-mh. What she said back there really got to ya, didn't it?”

The blond god groaned in distress. “She really thinks I'm so shallow as to abandon her at the very first wrinkle.”

“Well, is she wrong?”

Apollon stared at the black-and-red-haired god. “Excuse me?!”

“Has anyone ever asked that of ya before?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Would you have stayed with her?”, Ares queried sternly. “I'm her grandfather, so I wanna know. Would you stay with her until she dies? Would you make the effort of weathering the storms of life with her, for better and for worse? Would you be to her what every person, mortal or divine, needs: a constant in her life, who's always there? Would you give her the loyalty every woman wishes for? Could you handle the pain of seeing the woman you fell for grow old and frail, while you stay forever young? Could you still love the face that belonged to the once most beautiful girl in all of Hellas, when it's full of wrinkles? Would you still find her beautiful? Would you wax your pretty poetry and tell her cheesy shit to cheer her up, when she gets nostalgic? Would you take care of her, when she can no longer take care of herself? Would you hold her hand, when she lies on her death bed, tell her how much you love her and give her one last kiss, before she descends to Hades?”

“I … I …”

Ares cupped Apollon's chin and forced the younger god to look him in the eyes.

“You're not that kinda guy, Apollon”, he stated with uncharacteristic gentleness. “Ya give your affection so easily, but it fades so quickly. And even if not, you leave your lovers with pretty gifts and abilities and then watch them from afar. But that's not what they need. What humans need is commitment. What Marpessa an' I just listed up? That's commitment. That's real love. And it takes a kind of courage most gods don't have or are unwilling to muster, 'cuz lovin' a mortal is painful. You an' I know that all too well, don't we?”

By now Apollon was trying really hard not to cry in front of the savage god of terrible war. But damn, Ares had a forsooth impeccable talent of hitting people, where it hurt the most. It was rivalled only by Aphrodite and their arsehole son Eros (like parents like son, Apollon supposed).

Ares sighed and hugged his younger half-brother.

“I hate you!”, Apollon choked. “And your oldest son too! What have I done to you for you to always hurt me like this?!”

“I know, I know”, Ares muttered. “Promise, I didn't do it on purpose this time, though. I just wanted ya to understand.”

“…”

“It's okay to cry, by the way. I may not be the best shoulder to cry on, but I won't judge. Let it out. It'll do ya no good to bottle it all up.”

Screw it.

The god of light collapsed in his older half-brother's arms and began to bawl relentlessly into the other's shoulder.

“Shhh”, the other murmured, while soothingly rubbing Apollon's back and holding him tightly.

They stayed like that for a while, before Ares backed off to look at the other.

“Man, they're really screwin' you over, huh?”, he asked sympathetically. “C'mon, lil' brother. Let's go home. Hestia gave me lots of cookies, but I don't like sweets, so you can have them as comfort food. Take a break from love and while you're at that, think of what I said, hm?”

Apollon just sniffled and let the older god transport them both back to Olympos.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

His Blood Runs Gold VII

Percy is a god: Part VII

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Golden child,

Lion boy;

Tell me what it’s like to conquer.

Fearless child,

Broken boy;

Tell me what it’s like to burn.

-oh darling, even rome fell // p.s. (via madzie-bane)

(Tumblr: @loudthoughtswrittenwords)

“I didn’t want to be a God!” Jason bellowed. The stone columns of Olympus cracked.

“It was the only way I could save you.” A voice as soft as darkness answered.

“How could you do this to me?” Anger laced every word

“I cannot lose you Jason.”

“I don’t care. I never asked you to save me.”

“I could not– would not let you die.”

“This is not about you Percy.”

“It never is.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you–“ His voice broke, “I want you to live. I want you to experience everything the world has to offer. I want you–“ He was a hurricane of emotion, “I want you with me.”

“That,” Jason laughed, cold and dead, “Is the most selfish thing I have ever heard.”

“You’re calling me selfish for wanting to save my friend? What about you?” The ground shook, fractured, crumbled.

“What about me?”

“I am selfish for wanting to save you, but you are selfish for not wanting to live.”

“It is not your life. You have no right to make that decision.” Thunder was a dark rumbling noise around them. “You have no idea what it’s like, what it’s been like for me.”

“I DO!”

The world exploded.

Marble floors and stone columns crashed to the earth. Screams, screeching and panicked, were a symphony in their ears. Lightning and tsunamis clashed in a look.

“I was there, fighting the other side to your war. I was there going on quests and dealing with prophecies. I was there leading people into battle and carrying bodies out. I KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE.”

“Then you would know that there is no chance of living. There is no point.”

“There is always–“ A strangled gasp cut him off.

Percy looked down and wondered with dazed interest why there was an arrow sticking out of his chest. It was such a pretty arrow. White as snow, swirling patterns snaking around the shaft, and there on the arrowhead, a smudge of gold.

He reached out to touch it and giggled as his fingers came away wet.

Silly Percy, the arrow is not gold, that’s just his blood.

He looked up to show Jason and frowned when he saw those golden cheeks go pale as bone.

A broken sound ruptured from his friend’s throat.

“Look there’s an arrow in me.”

And then Percy Jackson sunk to his knees, fell to the fissured floor. He did not move again.

It had always seemed kind of funny how we come into the world and go out of it the same way. How we cry on an exhale and die on one too. It is a wonder why we never do anything on an inhale. Maybe because half of life is about letting go. About release. And wasn’t that what dying was?

The God of Protection and Guidance stared down at his body, watching a blonde-haired boy cradle it like delicate china. He deigned to laugh at the irony of his situation. Protection and Guidance, for all except him.

He knew he wasn’t dead because gods never really died. But did they have souls? Or was this a result of his genes, still coded with his mother’s human DNA? A tether that kept him in the mortal world. He looked around, catching his reflection in a small pool on the far side of the room. A smiled stretched his lips as he took in his appearance. A golden aura veiled his naked body, basking him in godly light.

With a dismissive glance he turned from the pool and floated towards the boy crying over his tattered clothes. The blonde looked so familiar; they must have known each other extremely well for him to look so distraught. Percy thought about trying to tell him that he wasn’t actually dead, just in limbo but he didn’t know this person. It would be an awkward conversation to have with a stranger.

A gut-wrenching sob interrupted his musings. The stranger was bowed over, tears fresh and hot spilling down golden cheeks and onto his body. His heart clenched briefly as he watched the boy break, unable to help, to comfort.

“CUPID!” He screamed, lightning flashing in those blue eyes. “Where are you?”

A shimmer of light and then a being materialized above them.

“So we meet again Son of Jupiter.”

“Where are you?” The boy screamed again.

Percy realized the god hadn’t revealed himself yet, keeping his body hidden between the folds of the universe.

“Do you remember what I said when you asked me that question four years ago Child of Greece?”

A demigod then, Percy decided moving forward to peer at the boy more closely.

“FIX THIS!” The half-blood roared, ignoring the God’s question.

“Where you least expect it, as love always is,” Eros continued.

“Why are you telling me this?” The blonde cracked, voice small, broken.

“Because Jason Grace, you are terrified of what that means. Your friend Nico di Angelo figured it out. He understood and he embraced it, but you continue to deny yourself because you are scared.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Piper broke up with me, I loved her.”

“That is not what I mean.”

“What do you want me to say?” He whispered, “Please just fix him, heal him.”

“The only way is to admit what you have been afraid to for so long.” The God of Love said softly, turning his head in Percy’s direction.

Percy gave him a smile, wicked and intrigued. The God was beautiful, the way only love can be. In another life Percy may have asked for a moment to learn who Eros was. In another life he may have learnt just what Cupid could do.

“I love him okay! I love him!” The crumbling room shook with the force of Jason’s confession.

The Son of Jupiter gripped Percy’s body, mumbling over and over, “I love him, why do I love him?”

The Arrow that had found its mark in a heart of gold, turned to rose petals and floated towards the god still hovering above the world.

“Are you happy, you sick son of a bitch?” He glared at Cupid.

“Are you?” Glinting eyes stared at the broken scene.

Eros turned to Percy, mischief flashing across his features, “Until we meet again Son of Poseidon,”

He smirked in return. With a nod the god was gone.

Before he had time to blink, he was being hurtled across space, hurtled across memories, and time. He was hurtling right to the cracking marble floor.

Percy Jackson gasped, eyes flying open. He touched a finger to his chest and suppressed a giggle when a single rose petal floated to the floor.

“You’re alive,” The boy holding him rasped.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well you got stabbed through the heart with a god’s weapon, I was worried it’d kill you despite your divine status.”

“Well thanks for worrying but I think I’m good.” He looked around, frowning at the broken columns and ruptured floor, “What happened here?”

“You don’t remember?” The blonde squinted, confusion flitting across his face.

“No, should I?”

“We fought because you made Zeus turn me into a God and our power destroyed everything,”

“Wow,” He mumbled, “We must really have gone at it.”

“Hey, do you know your name?”

He gave the god still holding him a weird look, “Of course I know my name. I’m Perseus Jackson, God of Protection and Guidance.”

“Who are your parents?”

“Lord Poseidon and Sally Jackson.”

“And-“ The blonde swallowed, “And do you know who I am?”

Percy frowned, looking at him properly for the first time since waking in his arms.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea.”

The boy with storms in his eyes burst into tears.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@thepersonyourparentswishyouwere

@lesbian-peanuts

@thegirlwiththegoldenarm

@thatis-americas-ass

@whatevertakesmyfancy

@lucyisblue

@burninggracesandbridges

@tmifangirl24

@queenkivi

@nishlicious-01

@whitelacepants

@leydiangelo

@urbanpineapplefarmer

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

[hufflly-puffs]

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Chapter 26: Seen and Unforeseen

“But the breakout of Bellatrix Lestrange and her fellow Death Eaters had given Harry a burning desire to do something, whether or not it worked …” – Wait a minute. Wasn’t it Hermione who wrote to Rita after she read about the breakout? Harry didn’t even know he would be giving an interview up until 5 minutes before it started.

“‘Well, you see,’ said Hermione, with the patient air of someone explaining that one plus one equals two to an over-emotional toddler, ‘you shouldn’t have told her that you wanted to meet me halfway through your date.’” – Oh Hermione, I feel your pain. I mean I’m a huge fan of people just being honest about their feelings and what they want. I get Harry and his annoyance that he has to interpret and analyse what Cho might have meant with the things she said and did. But it takes a lot of courage as well to honestly tell someone how you feel, so we invent all those little games to find out how much that other person likes us instead of simply asking. And it is interesting that Hermione can read between the lines and translate what Cho meant to Harry, given that Hermione can be a bit tactless as well at times.

“‘You should write a book,’ Ron told Hermione as he cut up his potatoes, ‘translating mad things girls do so boys can understand them.’” – Didn’t Ron later have a book that would help him wooing Hermione? The one he gave Harry as a present for his 17th birthday? It would make sense that Ron would read such a book, when he thinks you have to speak a secret language in order to date someone.

“‘Come on, Ginny’s not bad,’ said George fairly, sitting down next to Fred. ‘Actually, I dunno how she got so good, seeing how we never let her play with us.’ ‘She’s been breaking into your broom shed in the garden since the age of six and taking each of your brooms out in turn when you weren’t looking,’ said Hermione from behind her tottering pile of Ancient Rune books.” – I always love those small snippets into Hermione and Ginny’s friendship, confirming that they have a relationship outside of the boys surrounding them, and obviously there are things Hermione can’t and won’t talk about with Harry and Ron.

“‘Maybe not,’ she said darkly, returning to her translation, ‘but at least my happiness doesn’t depend on Ron’s goalkeeping ability.’” – I used to be a sports fan (I watched a lot of soccer/football) and I can confirm how dependent your mood is on your team winning or losing.

“He dreamed that Neville and Professor Sprout were waltzing around the Room of Requirement while Professor McGonagall played the bagpipes.” – Why wasn’t that in the movie adaption? WHY????

“‘Oh, Harry, don’t you see?’ Hermione breathed. ‘If she could have done one thing to make absolutely sure that every single person in this school will read your interview, it was banning it!’” – If you wanna make sure teenagers do something forbid it. There would be less smoking and drinking and sex if none of those things were considered a taboo.

“The teachers were of course forbidden from mentioning the interview by Educational Decree Number Twenty-six, but they found ways to express their feelings about it all the same. Professor Sprout awarded Gryffindor twenty points when Harry passed her a watering can; a beaming Professor Flitwick pressed a box of squeaking sugar mice on him at the end of Charms, said, ‘Shh!’ and hurried away; and Professor Trelawney broke into hysterical sobs during Divination and announced to the startled class, and a very disapproving Umbridge, that Harry was not going to suffer an early death after all, but would live to a ripe old age, become Minister for Magic and have twelve children.” – I love Flitwick’s reaction: you’ve been through a lot of trauma kiddo, here have some candy. And of course Trelawney is as always not exactly wrong. Harry doesn’t die young (or rather he doesn’t stay dead) and well he gets a job at the ministry and has a bunch of kids, the general drift is right.

“When Bode tried to steal this weapon, something funny happened to him. I think there must be defensive spells on it, or around it, to stop people touching it. That’s why he was in St Mungo’s, his brain had gone all funny and he couldn’t talk.” – We know that the weapon is the prophecy about Harry and Voldemort, and that only those two are able to touch it. I wonder if this specific defensive spell is put on prophecies afterwards or if it is in their nature, that they create a special kind of magic, that makes it impossible for anyone to hear a prophecy that isn’t about them. Then again there are prophecies were it is unclear who they are about. Even the one about Harry didn’t specifically mention his name, it is because Voldemort choose Harry that it became about him. And I wonder if all those people mentioned in prophecies are aware of that? Do they get a letter from the ministry? Do they have a right to know?

“‘That is just as well, Potter,’ said Snape coldly, ‘because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters.’ ‘No – that’s your job, isn’t it?’ Harry shot at him. He had not meant to say it; it had burst out of him in temper. For a long moment they stared at each other, Harry convinced he had gone too far. But there was a curious, almost satisfied expression on Snape’s face when he answered. ‘Yes, Potter,’ he said, his eyes glinting. ‘That is my job. Now, if you are ready, we will start again.’” – Isn’t it funny though? Snape always accuses Harry that he thinks he is special, that the normal rules don’t apply to him, etc. But here Snape basically confirms that he is the one who wants to feel special and important, that he enjoys the special role he plays in the war, as a spy for both Dumbledore and Voldemort. It is about value and it is the only kind of value he can get. And ironically I think Sirius is quite similar in that: he wants to play a special role as well. Whereas Harry is right in the middle of this war, no matter if he wants to or not.

“Harry did not speak; he felt that to say anything might be dangerous. He was sure he had just broken into Snape’s memories, that he had just seen scenes from Snape’s childhood. It was unnerving to think that the little boy who had been crying as he watched his parents shouting was actually standing in front of him with such loathing in his eyes.” – One might say that of course years of abuse would naturally lead to a bitter hateful man the way Snape is. But Harry carries his own package of unhappy childhood memories with him and guess what? He didn’t become a dick. When Harry sees Snape as a child he also sees himself, but they both became very different men.

“‘It was your home,’ said Professor Umbridge, and Harry was revolted to see the enjoyment stretching her toadlike face as she watched Professor Trelawney sink, sobbing uncontrollably, on to one of her trunks, […]” – Umbridge is a sadist. She feeds on power and she feeds on her power to destroy lives. That is why she could fit in in Fudge’s ministry as well as Voldemort’s ministry in book 7: this isn’t about ideology. It is about power and the abuse of power. And every system allows people like Umbridge to come to power. And that is what makes her such a great villain.

 I love how all the teachers stood together to protect and help Trelawney. We know that McGonagall isn’t very fond of Divination or Trelawney, and yet she is the first to defend her.

[reviewsfeed-blog]

Happy Friday folks! I hope you are all looking forward to a fabulous weekend!!

Today I am posting another Down the TBR Hole post, in an effort to clear out my Goodreads list of unwanted books. In case anyone needs a brush up on just what this tag entails:-

This meme was started by Lia @ Lost in a Story to clear out my reading list of unwanted books. Here is how it works:

Go to your Goodreads to-read shelf.

Order on ascending date added.

Take the first 5 (or 10 if you’re feeling adventurous) books

Read the synopses of the books

Decide: keep it or should it go?

Without further ado, here are the next ten books on the TBR:-

  Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch – Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Goodreads

According to The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch (the world’s only completely accurate book of prophecies, written in 1655, before she exploded), the world will end on a Saturday. Next Saturday, in fact. Just before dinner.

So the armies of Good and Evil are amassing, Atlantis is rising, frogs are falling, tempers are flaring. Everything appears to be going according to Divine Plan. Except a somewhat fussy angel and a fast-living demon—both of whom have lived amongst Earth’s mortals since The Beginning and have grown rather fond of the lifestyle—are not actually looking forward to the coming Rapture.

And someone seems to have misplaced the Antichrist…

To be honest, this book was a no-brainer before I even re-read the synopsis. I love Pratchett’s humour, and Neil Gaiman is also an esteemed author in his own right. Whilst I wasn’t so fond of American Gods as I’d have hoped, I did enjoy Stardust. This is an easy keeper for me!

Verdict: Keep!

  The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time – Mark Haddon

Goodreads

Christopher John Francis Boone knows all the countries of the world and their capitals and every prime number up to 7,057. He relates well to animals but has no understanding of human emotions. He cannot stand to be touched. Although gifted with a superbly logical brain, Christopher is autistic. Everyday interactions and admonishments have little meaning for him. Routine, order and predictability shelter him from the messy, wider world. Then, at fifteen, Christopher’s carefully constructed world falls apart when he finds his neighbor’s dog, Wellington, impaled on a garden fork, and he is initially blamed for the killing.

Christopher decides that he will track down the real killer and turns to his favorite fictional character, the impeccably logical Sherlock Holmes, for inspiration. But the investigation leads him down some unexpected paths and ultimately brings him face to face with the dissolution of his parents’ marriage. As he tries to deal with the crisis within his own family, we are drawn into the workings of Christopher’s mind.

And herein lies the key to the brilliance of Mark Haddon’s choice of narrator: The most wrenching of emotional moments are chronicled by a boy who cannot fathom emotion. The effect is dazzling, making for a novel that is deeply funny, poignant, and fascinating in its portrayal of a person whose curse and blessing is a mind that perceives the world literally.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is one of the freshest debuts in years: a comedy, a heartbreaker, a mystery story, a novel of exceptional literary merit that is great fun to read.

This is a book I had heard of growing up, but it wasn’t until I understood what was special about it, i.e. that the main character is autistic that I added it to the list.

One of the ladies I used to work with has an autistic nephew, and I’m curious to take a moment and see things from an autistic child’s perspective. I think we could all benefit from gaining some understanding of autism and how people think differently on the whole! It is easy for people to be labelled nowadays, “fat”, “thin”, “simple” etc. I don’t want to use any further slurs, including race and religion because frankly, I don’t condone them. I acknowledge their existence here.

This book is also a keeper!

Verdict: Keep

  Six of Crows – Leigh Bardugo

Goodreads

Criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker has been offered wealth beyond his wildest dreams. But to claim it, he’ll have to pull off a seemingly impossible heist:

Break into the notorious Ice Court (a military stronghold that has never been breached)

Retrieve a hostage (who could unleash magical havoc on the world)

Survive long enough to collect his reward (and spend it)

Kaz needs a crew desperate enough to take on this suicide mission and dangerous enough to get the job done – and he knows exactly who: six of the deadliest outcasts the city has to offer. Together, they just might be unstoppable – if they don’t kill each other first.

This is the first book I am resigning from the list. The synopsis sounds perfectly okay and readable, but doesn’t sound WOW! It lacks the pop, so it’s going to drop…

Verdict: Go

  Sleeping Giants – Sylvain Neuvel

Goodreads

A girl named Rose is riding her new bike near her home in Deadwood, South Dakota, when she falls through the earth. She wakes up at the bottom of a square hole, its walls glowing with intricate carvings. But the firemen who come to save her peer down upon something even stranger: a little girl in the palm of a giant metal hand.

Seventeen years later, the mystery of the bizarre artifact remains unsolved—its origins, architects, and purpose unknown. Its carbon dating defies belief; military reports are redacted; theories are floated, then rejected.

But some can never stop searching for answers.

Rose Franklin is now a highly trained physicist leading a top secret team to crack the hand’s code. And along with her colleagues, she is being interviewed by a nameless interrogator whose power and purview are as enigmatic as the provenance of the relic. What’s clear is that Rose and her compatriots are on the edge of unraveling history’s most perplexing discovery—and figuring out what it portends for humanity. But once the pieces of the puzzle are in place, will the result prove to be an instrument of lasting peace or a weapon of mass destruction?

An inventive debut in the tradition of World War Z and The Martian, told in interviews, journal entries, transcripts, and news articles, Sleeping Giants is a thriller fueled by a quest for truth—and a fight for control of earthshaking power.

I remember adding this book to my TBR – what drew me to it was how different it was to anything else out there! I also like the idea of the story being chronicled in the manner of articles etc instead of prose.

Verdict: Keep

  Join – Steve Toutonghi

Goodreads

What if you could live multiple lives simultaneously, have constant, perfect companionship, and never die? That’s the promise of Join, a revolutionary technology that allows small groups of minds to unite, forming a single consciousness that experiences the world through multiple bodies. But as two best friends discover, the light of that miracle may be blinding the world to its horrors.

Chance and Leap are jolted out of their professional routines by a terrifying stranger—a remorseless killer who freely manipulates the networks that regulate life in the post-Join world. Their quest for answers—and survival—brings them from the networks and spire communities they’ve known to the scarred heart of an environmentally ravaged North American continent and an underground community of the “ferals” left behind by the rush of technology.

In the storytelling tradition of classic speculative fiction from writers like David Mitchell and Michael Chabon, Join offers a pulse-pounding story that poses the largest possible questions: How long can human life be sustained on our planet in the face of environmental catastrophe? What does it mean to be human, and what happens when humanity takes the next step in its evolution? If the individual mind becomes obsolete, what have we lost and gained, and what is still worth fighting for?

I’m a little on the fence about this one. I’ve had to have a good long think about it.

I love the idea of the book exploring advancement in technology and individuality (or the lack of). I feel my reservations are the result of thinking the synopsis isn’t written all that well. I’m going to keep it tentatively based on potential.

Verdict: Keep

  Three Parts Dead – Max Gladstone

Goodreads

A god has died, and it’s up to Tara, first-year associate in the international necromantic firm of Kelethres, Albrecht, and Ao, to bring Him back to life before His city falls apart.

Her client is Kos, recently deceased fire god of the city of Alt Coulumb. Without Him, the metropolis’s steam generators will shut down, its trains will cease running, and its four million citizens will riot.

Tara’s job: resurrect Kos before chaos sets in. Her only help: Abelard, a chain-smoking priest of the dead god, who’s having an understandable crisis of faith.

When Tara and Abelard discover that Kos was murdered, they have to make a case in Alt Coulumb’s courts—and their quest for the truth endangers their partnership, their lives, and Alt Coulumb’s slim hope of survival.

Set in a phenomenally built world in which justice is a collective force bestowed on a few, craftsmen fly on lightning bolts, and gargoyles can rule cities, Three Parts Dead introduces readers to an ethical landscape in which the line between right and wrong blurs.

Okay, so this was added to the list a year and a half ago. Looking at it now, I can say that my reading preferences have certainly changed. This doesn’t appeal to me anymore, so it’s off the list.

Verdict: Go

  Doors of Stone – Patrick Rothfuss

Goodreads

The eagerly awaited third book of The Kingkiller Chronicle.

It is absolutely eagerly awaited – I love this series so far!

Verdict: Keep

  Golden Age – James Maxwell

Goodreads

The discovery of a strange and superior warship sends Dion, youngest son of the king of Xanthos, and Chloe, a Phalesian princess, on a journey across the sea, where they are confronted by a kingdom far more powerful than they could ever have imagined.

But they also find a place in turmoil, for the ruthless sun king, Solon, is dying. In order to gain entrance to heaven, Solon is building a tomb—a pyramid clad in gold—and has scoured his own empire for gold until there’s no more to be found.

Now Solon’s gaze turns to Chloe’s homeland, Phalesia, and its famous sacred ark, made of solid gold. The legends say it must never be opened, but Solon has no fear of foreigners’ legends or even their armies. And he isn’t afraid of the eldren, an ancient race of shape-shifters, long ago driven into the Wilds.

For when he gets the gold, Solon knows he will live forever.

This book doesn’t appeal to me much at the moment. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I could read it… I may even want to in the future, but I’m not feeling the love right now.

I’ll keep it because I bought a copy, but it’s not something I am likely to pick up in the near future.

Verdict: Keep

  Children of Earth and Sky – Guy Gavriel Kay

Goodreads

From the small coastal town of Senjan, notorious for its pirates, a young woman sets out to find vengeance for her lost family. That same spring, from the wealthy city-state of Seressa, famous for its canals and lagoon, come two very different people: a young artist traveling to the dangerous east to paint the grand khalif at his request—and possibly to do more—and a fiercely intelligent, angry woman, posing as a doctor’s wife, but sent by Seressa as a spy.

The trading ship that carries them is commanded by the accomplished younger son of a merchant family, ambivalent about the life he’s been born to live. And farther east a boy trains to become a soldier in the elite infantry of the khalif—to win glory in the war everyone knows is coming.

As these lives entwine, their fates—and those of many others—will hang in the balance, when the khalif sends out his massive army to take the great fortress that is the gateway to the western world…

This synopsis really doesn’t say a whole lot about the book, in my opinion. Unless you are die-hard feminist and want to invest into special agent “doctors wife” – nothing stands out about these characters.

It’s a nope from me.

Verdict: Go

  The Psychology Book – Nigel C Benson

Goodreads

Clearly explaining more than 100 groundbreaking ideas in the field, The Psychology Book uses accessible text and easy-to-follow graphics and illustrations to explain the complex theoretical and experimental foundations of psychology.

From its philosophical roots through behaviorism, psychotherapy, and developmental psychology, The Psychology Book looks at all the greats from Pavlov and Skinner to Freud and Jung, and is an essential reference for students and anyone with an interest in how the mind works.

I definitely have a kindle copy of this – and I am fairly sure I have read at least some of it. Psychology is a subject I am interested in and like to visit periodically, so I’ll keep.

Verdict: Keep

  There you have it!

I only dropped three books of the list this time. I think now I am coming to books that I have added more recently (within the past year and a half or so) there will be less I drop off the list as my reading taste will be closer to it is now.

I’ll still benefit from reviewing, however, as you never know. Plus, doing so gets the books put on the ACTUAL reading list I work from.

Have you reviewed your TBR recently?

  Down the TBR Hole is a tag designed to help clear Goodreads lists of unwanted books #bookblog Happy Friday folks! I hope you are all looking forward to a fabulous weekend!! Today I am posting another Down the TBR Hole post, in an effort to clear out my Goodreads list of unwanted books.