#frankly matthew's view makes no sense

[adventism-atheism-orthodoxy-me]

This Verse Secretly Undermines All of Christianity...

I just saw this and thought I would process it on my own.

This YouTuber doesn't sound like he's explored much beyond mainstream Western Christianity. He makes the bold statement that EVERY Christian sect finds indispensable the idea that Christ died on the Cross "for our sins". Period.

For the longest time I found that challenging too. He goes on to talk about many of the same things I've asked, "Why couldn't God just forgive us outright? Why must he go through a generational pageant to do something the God of the Universe could have done of his own accord in the first place?"

You can say this is a dumb question. I've been told this many times.

Yet I have never been the only one asking this.

Many, if not all Atheists ask this question. Frankly, many "Christian" answers sound a little unhinged.

Now, I don't think that his examples necessarily contradict the prevailing point of view though. All anyone has to do is look at the banking industry to see that credit on future earnings is a valid payment method. Now it's true that modern banking, and especially credit, wasn't developed until the European Jews, unable to make a living any other way, started lending during the medieval period. Jesuits came up with the idea of insurance, which didn't technically fall under the prohibition against usury. And with ongoing innovation, modern financial markets developed.

None of these, of course, would have been understood by the local people of Jesus' time and place.

What was understood was life and death.

And this is where I found my peace.

Sins can easily be forgiven, but sickness and eventual death? That's a whole other nut to crack. Now, to be clear, unfortunately even the most traditional Christian communities have started to obsess about how SIN must be atoned!

But there is a strain in the oldest Christian traditions that it wasn't primarily sin that was destroyed on the cross, but rather death, disease, corruption (of which sin is a derivation to be sure, but not the point).

Now it's easy to look around and say - "Look! it didn't work." I myself have had to say good bye to both my parents over the last several months.

However, there is a resurrection that is promised. And if Christ has done what he said he did, then there WILL be a general resurrection.

The key is to be prepared for that resurrection. Now we could go on about which denomination is best prepared, but I have little faith in denominationalism. I think it's a means to conquer and divide the faithful, pitting follower against follower. Soon the God who's being worshiped isn't the most High God, but the Deceiver who encourages us all to call each other heretics. I do not think most "Christians" are Christian, but rather following their own wisdom (1 Timothy 6:3-5, 2 Thessalonians 2:11, Matthew 7:13-14, Matthew 24:11).

Now I may be a false teacher myself for thinking such a thing and putting it out there, but I have faith that God will know his own. And while he loves the rest, and has given them life, that life will be so much less for the fact that they reject what he's given them.

I find the idea of a river of fire helpful - Moses and the Glory of God (Exodus 33:20-23), speaks to the idea that to human senses, God is Fire. The Story of the Three Holy Youths (Daniel 3) has also been seen as an illustration of man abiding in the presence of fire, as a proxy for God, unharmed. Pentecost is God's fire experienced by the faithful after his resurrection. How will Gods fire be experienced by the unfaithful?

I have no idea, but I doubt that it will be pleasant (Luke 16:19-31).

In short, I feel this video failed to land it's point. There's enough diversity in Christianity to survive this argument, though I do not think that most modern Christians are open to my resolution.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, Have mercy upon me, a sinner.

[lauvra]

I've been writing a roughly 5000 word piece about a concept personally deeply integrated, and it's new for me to sit and spend this much time on one work specifically; to peer through so many lenses. Tense and point of view being something of an obstacle; at first approach events seemed impossible to braid into cohesion so I'd separated sections by the use of italics or bold text, but if a piece wouldn't make sense without these tricks this is lazy writing: I've restructured it entirely. It's rare that I step away by necessity to approach a piece with fresh eyes--and should do more often but am proud of what I produce given this bad habit. Part of my writing practise includes editing all the way through. Halfway through reading, I was tiring of my character; nauseated by her actually, which is pretty confronting when writing about yourself. I'm so grateful that's something I can recognise, though. Prone to tangents, there's a lesson taken from the book Bird by Bird where Lamott speaks on one making the mistake of thinking everything that's happened is interesting. I'm going to comb through what is and isn't necessary to share. The problem is, some small elements that likely seem insignificant really are guideposts part of a larger moral and it's my job to make that clear eventually or cut the fat. They also if done well can serve the work and portrayal of individuals involved. Parts that detail the actions of others are hard to share for multiple reasons, so I'm keeping it to a minimum when therein lay the problem too because the significance of those situations must be pressed but the finer details accumulated are too large for another day. There are examples of victimisation--many self-inflicted. There's a balance to strike in penning autobiography and this was brought up incredibly perfectly by Matthew McConaughey, of all people in a comedy podcast recently. Too much "I" and the reader won't connect, too much "you" and they feel spoken down to, too much "we" and you speak with too much hubris as if in the voice of God. He also spoke about the importance of splicing sections with poems or pictures or letters, and the overall balancing act of sharing a low-blow before detailing an accomplishment. Frankly, it's equally annoying to hear one talk themselves up all the time as it is to sit through all their self-deprecation. The comedy to it all is that nothing fucking matters and who cares but the girl did the girl cared a lot and now here we are about it. I didn't want to dive fully into the first-person narrative approach because she's not me, we're sort of holding hands collaborating.

[themysticsoffering]

HILDEGARD, FEMINISM, AND THE CHURCH

I'm reading The 35 Doctors of the Church by Christopher Rengers, OFM Cap., and Dr. Matthew E. Bunson, KHS.

It's that "but never during Mass" tag that gets me. (See attached photos.)

The Roman Catholic author/editor of this book wants to make a definitive statement about a decided position on "the place" of women in the Church.

Except during the celebration of the Mass, Hildegard preached to everyone!

Reading between the lines, what the author says is that between the men of her day and Hildegard, there was no difference in ability, knowledge, insight or qualifications when it came to teaching. Hildy was equal to any man.

The only thing Hildegard lacked was permission (and a penis, frankly)!

The fact that she never preached at Mass but only teaching and preaching where/when the men willed her to go means that she was never to be seen as an authority figure but as an agent of the authority.

Hildegard didn't question the teachings of the Church. She didn't seek to rival those in power.

She certainly equaled the intellect, insight, and virtue of the men around her, perhaps she surpassed it.

Hildegard had little reason to be horrified about anything. She certainly wasn't timid!

It's not about the supremacy of Christ or cooperation in ministry as parts of the body working together as the whole,

the position of the Roman Catholic Church today continues to be in lock step with submission to what the hierarchy considers to be a well-ordered power.

Now the United States,In the absence of a priest, the nuns can preach and women who are parish administrators can give instruction to the faithful.

This says that there aren't enough men to go around. You are not worthy to have any determination if you sense a call to ordained ministry, but you can serve the purposes of those of us at the top who remain.

Tantamount to misogyny, the Roman Catholic Church continues a rather worldly stance on women holding authority.

The Church's exclusion is totally incongruent with the scope or vision of the Gospel and with the historic life of Christ or the present life of Christ in his mystical body, the Christian people.

In such views and practices, the Church behaves more like an institution and less like the healing, reconciling, redemptive, and exultant Church. it is called to be Christ in the WHOLE world, for the WHOLE world, not just a man's world.

Christ changed people. He pushed back against powers that be and intentionally shook the structure of the society he knew.

The world has changed because understanding has changed. Understanding changes because we have more knowledge than we had previously.

Is the Roman Catholic Church not to change as the world has grown? Is our understanding in conjunction with Christian faith something that should be relegated to a remote past, to older forms of understanding and practice?

Is Christ to be excluded from the growth and knowledge we operate in?

Is Christ just some teacher who died in 33 A D or is He our risen Lord alive in us today? What is our faith?

Does this church revere some idol with Christ's face or does it embody a risen, living Christ?

[jomiddlemarch]

And happiness is always louder

“Matthew doesn’t know everything,” Marthe said. Her tone was relaxed, she kept kneading the dough in front of her as she must have done for a hundred thousand mornings. Maybe more. Diana was not sure how old she was, except that she was older than Matthew, than Ysabeau even.

“What do you mean, tante?” Diana used the affectionate title Marthe had suggested but evidently not expected to hear from a witch, judging by her wide smile.

“About mating, what is required,” Martha replied, slapping at the dough. The kitchen was the only part of Sept-Tours that reminded Diana of home. There were kettles and a broad wooden table, a bowl of apples and bunches of herbs hanging from a rafter. The stone walls were deep, the windows cut in, but the light fell through in the same way.

“Will you tell me then?”

“You would like to know more than he does?” Marthe asked.

“I’d like to know what you think is important,” Diana said carefully. Marthe would scent the truth, whether she tried to conceal it or not. What did the truth smell like? Jasmine or chalk or iodine? The wine they all drank or the burning wick of a candle?

“He thinks your mating, your marriage, is unconsummated,” Marthe said.

“What?”

“Ysabeau said Phillippe should instruct him and I didn’t argue that much. It was busier then, there were so many creatures to tend,” Marthe said, plaiting the dough into a fat loaf and setting it on a sheet of metal. She drank from the mug next to her and Diana wondered briefly whether it was tea or something stronger.

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand entirely, tante.”

“It is your mutual joy that binds you, how you trust each other to show your face in your communion. How you trust each other to give joy, ma petite,” Marthe said. Diana sensed the vampire was speaking more delicately than her own inclination, to protect Diana’s sensibilities.

“You are saying the location, the situation that leads to orgasm is irrelevant? The possibility of conception is…unimportant?”

“Yes. It isn’t only one equation, which you’d think a biochemist would suspect,” Marthe said, rolling her eyes.

“I see,” Diana said. “It seems vampires are not so different from any other male animal, creature or otherwise. As lovely as I find Matthew, in general and very specifically, it seems an overestimate of an organ’s significance. A rather restrictive view of what belongs where.”

“You do see, Madame de Clairmont,” Marthe laughed. “Will you tell him?”

“Why would I do that? Knowledge is power and Matthew has undeniable skills I should hate for him to stop practicing. He’s quite good with his hands, you see,” Diana said.

“And with his mouth, non? My ears have been ringing these past nights. And at dawn.”

“Marthe!”

“He’s never been so happy, not in all the time I’ve ever known him. You don’t need my blessing, Diana, but you have it,” Marthe said. “And Ysabeau’s, though she won’t say it aloud. It’s good to see our Matthew has such a good wife, one so giving.”

“Even if I am a witch?”

“You are Diana, a scholar and an American, an orphan and a writer. You are a witch but that isn’t all you are. The young ones, like Matthew, they don’t always understand.”

“Thank you for telling me the truth, tante,” Diana said.

“You’re welcome. And don’t worry about the noise. Most couples wouldn’t spend their honeymoon with their belle-méreand their lover’s nounou. We understand.”

[ellynneversweet]

For the reverse unpopular opinion meme, what's your favorite adaptation of a Jane Austen book, and why?

My absolute, sentimental favourite is the 05 Pride and Prejudice, partly because it’s a genuinely good film and partly because it came out when I was just barely eighteen and my favourite media franchises were, uh, Pirates of the Caribbean and Spooks.

This is a reverse unpopular opinion IMO (although the definition’s a bit vague) because of the loyalty to the 95 version as the one true adaptation; but! this is a good vibes ask meme so here’s your good vibes:

- Joe Wright is a good director who uses cinematography in a thoughtful and interesting way. The lighting is incredible and manages to make different times of day and night look beautiful and readable while still reading like the intended time. The foley and soundtrack genuinely adds to the storytelling, although it’s sometimes a little dubiously mixed for home viewing.

- the costuming reflects a very mid-2000s attitude toward period dramas. Whatever. I love Lizzy’s homemade dresses and the all-white ball and the very careful progression of fabrics and colours literally softening up Darcy’s wardrobe.

- The main characters look and feel young. Elizabeth looking red and sweaty and frankly post-orgasmic when Darcy sees her at the Meryton assembly is a three second introduction to ‘this is a story about a repressed nerd suddenly confronted with hormones’ (and bookends the ~controversial~ setting of the second proposal lingering on Darcy wandering dewily through a meadow with his shirt open). Continuing on this point, I think Joe Wright has a better grasp on the characterisation of basically-good-but-young men than uh, some other people. They’re not assholes (except Wickham) but they are strutting, preening idiots who check their moustaches in shop windows and practise proposing to each other.

- the casting is spot on. Lydia is a a gawky baby with spots and an oily t zone. Kitty won’t stop eating and making badly timed jokes. Mrs Bennet is annoying and deeply sympathetic, as she should be. Jane has actual depth! Elizabeth is, in fact, just as she should be — a clever, sarcastic twenty year old who thinks very highly of herself. I won’t hear any criticism of her giggles by people who apparently forget that Elizabeth Bennet laughs in text. Caroline is, I can’t stress this enough, actually clever and attractive in a way that her crush doesn’t respond to, rather than an objectively repulsive hag bitch. Matthew McFadyen is an underrated comic genius and I laugh every time he nearly takes out Tom Hollander’s Mr Collins with an elbow in the Netherfield ballroom.

— the family relationships feel right. The Bennet girls steal each other’s wine and drape over each other on couches and tell each other off; Mr Bennet makes dad jokes, Mrs Bennet is correctly shown to be worried for her daughters as much as herself (while still doing everything wrong). Mr Gardiner and Mrs Bennet are believable as middle-aged siblings. Georgiana is a bit bubblier than she should be, but I’ll overlook that because of the way she displays the inescapable instinct to embarrass one’s older sibling in front of their crush.

— it’s an adaptation, not an audiobook. Changes are made from the source material; yes. P&P is kind of a dense story, although Austen writes with surprising economy. It’s got a large cast, and a lot of it is about emotional change and reflection. That’s not easy to film, and I think most of the choices make sense. Furthermore, it’s a brave choice to take something as well known as P&P and try to engage with it on the level of the emotional core of the story, rather than doing a plodding beat-by-beat that gets the wording of the dialogue right while ignoring the point like some kind of high school cold reading of This Year’s Compulsory Shakespeare.

Also, it’s got Real Art in it, and the fake art (props) is sensitively done and not printed out from a photo run though an ‘oil paint’ filter. That’s like, literally all I need to watch a movie.

[tigerballoons]

So who are these characters I'm calling the submarine boys? Well for a start, I should be honest with you. Despite the tag name, only one of them is actually a submariner.

The story is contemporary and fully in our world, which is a huge pain in the ass when exciting world events... event. Someone stop me from doing this again. Even when I have a plan for future developments I have to fit in nonsense like Russia, or the queen's death, to say nothing of the inevitable delays in delivery of new boats which are inevitably going to happen and knock my nice timeline all to hell. Inevitably. But the part which is under control...

Jonathan Lawrence is an actual dear. He comes from Perthshire in Scotland and is the rector of Helensburgh, on the Clyde, a position he's held for 10 years now. He was born in May 1988, which makes him currently 34. He's a warm, friendly person who can talk to absolutely anyone. He also genuinely cares about other people and is concerned for them. This means people generally like him, even when they're not religious or belong to a different church. He's also the kind of person who gets upset watching documentaries where baby animals die. Just, a total sweetheart. Some people write him off as fluffy and then get surprised when it turns out he has strong views on what's right and stands up for them.

Rob Stanton is essentially the opposite, personality-wise. He's serious, frankly overly secretive, good at glaring, and not good at talking to people. His standoffishness is actually a defence mechanism to hide how bad he is at socialising, but naturally it's become a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you actually spend time with him you find out that he's perfectly decent and does, contrary to popular belief, have a sense of humour. He's practical, thorough, has great attention to detail and stays calm under pressure. As a leader, he's strict but fair, with zero tolerance for bullshit of any kind. This is relevant - he got promoted this summer to command of HMS Vengeance, one of the Royal Navy's nuclear deterrent submarines. Rob is a couple of years older than Jonathan and comes from Slough originally, although it's best not to mention it. They're getting married next summer, which is about time because they've been together for nearly 10 years.

I actually love these two idiots.

In terms of comparisons, Jonathan has big Aziraphael energy. They're both caring, hopeful people who are a bit too trusting and can be oblivious to underhand things going on around them.

Rob is a lot like Matthew Venn from the Ann Cleeves detective series. Two losers who feel most comfortable in a structured environment because they can't deal with people, who are easily misunderstood, who care deeply about things but never let it show.

[banescrown]

wait the comments of that post you made are so cursed,,, people actually want an Ariadne & Matthew friendship what 🤡

...why tho o.O

Like not EVERYONE has to be friends with Matthew. Ari could talk to other people *cough* like Alastair *cough* and would be much better off.

One of the replies I got was about Ari being into fashion thus she and Matthew make good friends. Her wanting to fit into society is different from having a taste for fashion per say. And Matthew already has Anna for fashion really. And she supposedly hates political talk; that's canon where?

They also said Matthew's helping her with getting Anna back. First off, Matthew has too many of his own problems to deal with, I don't see why he should be able to help Ari properly. And no offense, Matthew's not the biggest expert of love and he does not understand Ari's situation AT ALL (Anna doesn't either but that's a different discussion). Forgive me if I'm very wary of the advice he'd give her.

I also see points of "Ari and Matthew must have interacted to as both their parents are very influential, she was engaged to Charles, Ari would use the fact that Matthew's Anna's friend to her advantage" etc. So, if Matthew and Ari interacted and were minutely close, there would've been some mention or show of it. Like Matthew would probably have had some worry of Ari when she was poisoned. He doesn't, and frankly in Chain of Gold it doesn't seem like he and Ari even know each other at all well. And Matthew really doesn't bother interacting with people other than the Merry Thieves and like Anna etc. If their parents worked together, it doesn't mean Ari and Matthew spent time together too.

(Oh and if your main argument is that Ari needs Matthew to get back Anna, you are diminishing her character to her love interest ARIADNE BRIDGESTOCK IS AN AMAZING PERSON OUTSIDE OF HER MISGUIDED LOVE OF ANNA LIGHTWOOD)

Ari being engaged to Charles also has no real effect, Matthew would just think, "oh this is the poor girl who's marrying my ass of a brother" and just, not think about her much again. I doubt he'd even really care. And Matthew would frankly just side with Anna instead of trying to help Ari win her back (another issue for another time). I don't see how Ari could "use" Matthew to get into Anna's good graces.

Now to Alastair and Ari having "no reason to talk" "a friendship would not get them anywhere" etc. A friendship is not about gaining something from someone you're friends with. It's about having fun, and helping each other yes, but not in a give-gain perspective, you help the person because you care for them. You don't need to have EVERYTHING in common to make conversation, you have random conversations about your interests and views and other rabdom stuff.

Maybe Alastair looked miserable or bored at a party and Ari went up to him and said "you look bored as hell" "Yes but I've found mentally planning the detailed murders of people to be quite entertaining" or some other ridiculous response and BOOM: a friendship begins.

Alastair is isolating himself, and Ari is stubborn, she could help Alastair come out of the shell he's decided to stay in, AND give him the comfort of having a friend that he hasn't had a lot of baggage to unload with. With the other Merry Thieves, you have their academy days that has caused a rift, and even when/if they move past that, it's still been there and happened (and Alastair being Alastair will carry it over his own head for a very long time). With Ari there's nothing, they've never interacted before, here's someone who will see him for who he is NOW, (while everyone, part of the fandom included, looks at him as the fifteen year old bully he WAS).

(To people who l say, "they'd only be friends cuz their both queer POC, otherwise they wouldn't", this entire argument is without mention of them being LGBTQ+ or POC now what do you have to say hA)

tl;dr: Not everyone needs to be friends with Matthew, he and Ari do not need to interact or be friends it's ridiculous and uneeded; a friendship between Alastair and Ariadne makes so much more sense IT MAKES ABSOLUTE SENSE I will die on this hill.

[qqueenofhades]

I want to hear about gay knights. Please.

Ahaha. So this is me finally getting, post-holiday, to the subject that was immediately clamoured for, when I volunteered to discuss the historical accuracy of gay knights if someone requested it. It reminds me somewhat of when my venerable colleague @oldshrewsburyian​ volunteered to discuss lesbian nuns, and was immediately deluged by requests to do just that. In my opinion, gay knights and lesbian nuns are the mlm/wlw solidarity of the Middle Ages, even if the tedious constructionists would like to remind us that we can’t exactly use those terms for them. It also forces us to consider the construction of modern heterosexuality, our erroneous notions of it as hegemonically transhistorical, and the fact that behaviour we would consider “queer” (and therefore implicitly outside mainstream society) was not just mainstream, but central, valorized, and crucial to constructions of medieval manhood, if not without existential anxieties of its own. Because medieval societies were often organized around the chivalric class, i.e. the king and his knights, his ability to make war, and the cultural prestige and homosocial bonds of his retinue, if you were a knight, you were (increasingly as the medieval era went on) probably a person of some status. You had a consequential role to play in this world, and your identity was the subject of legal, literary, cultural, social, religious, and other influences. And a lot of that was also, let’s face it, what the 21st century would consider Kinda Gay.

The central bond in society, the glue that made it work, was the relationships between soldiers, battlefield brotherhoods, and the intense, self-sacrifical love for the other that is familiar to anyone who has ever watched a war movie, and dates back (in explicitly gay form, at least) to the Sacred Band of Thebes. Medieval society had a careful and contested interaction with this ideal and this kind of relationship between men. Because they needed it for the successful prosecution of military ventures, they held it up as the best kind of love, to which the love of a woman could never entirely aspire, but that also ran the risk of the possibility of it turning (homo)sexual. Same-sex sexual activity was well-known in the Middle Ages, the end, full stop. The use of penitentials, or confessors’ handbooks, as sources for views or practices of queer sexual behaviour has been criticised (you will swiftly find that almost EVERYTHING used as a source for queer history is criticised, shockingly), but there remains the fact that Burchard of Worms’ 11th-century Decretum, a vast compilation of canon law, mentions same-sex behaviour among its list of sins, but assigns it a comparatively light penance. (I don’t have the actual passage handy, but it’s a certain amount of days of fasting on bread and water.) It assigns much heavier penalties for Burchard’s main concern, which was sorcery and the practice of un-Christian beliefs, rituals, or other persistent holdovers from paganism. This is not to say that homosexuality was accepted, per se, but it was known about, it must have happened enough for priests to list in their handbooks of sins, and it wasn’t The End of The World. Frankly, I am tired of having to argue that queer people existed and engaged in queer activity in the Middle Ages (not directed at you, but in general). Of course they did. Obviously they did. Moving on!

Anyway. Returning to gay knights specifically, the fact remained that if you encouraged two dudes to love each other beyond all other bonds, they might, you know, actually bang. This was worrisome, especially in the twelfth century, as explored by Matthew Kuefler, ‘Male Friendship and the Suspicion of Sodomy in Twelfth-Century France’ and Ruth Mazo Karras, ‘Knighthood, Compulsory Heterosexuality, and Sodomy’ in The Boswell Thesis: Essays on Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, ed. Matthew Kuefler (Chicago; University of Chicago Press, 2006), pp. 179-214 and 273-86. I have written a couple papers (in the ever-tedious process of one day being turned into journal articles) on the subject of the Extremely Queer Richard the Lionheart, some material of which can be found in my tag for him. Richard’s queerness has been argued over for a long time, we all throw rotten banana peels at John Gillingham who took it upon himself to deny, ignore, or minimize all the evidence, but anyway. Richard was a very masculine and powerful man and formidably talented soldier who could not be reduced to the stereotype of the effeminate, weak, or impotent sodomite, and the fact that he was a prince, a duke, and a king was probably why he was repeatedly able to get away with it. But he wasn’t alone, and he wasn’t the only one. He was very much part of his culture and time, even if he kept running into ecclesiastical reprisals for it. It happened. If you want a published discussion that covers some of my points (though not all of them), there is William E. Burgwinkle, ‘The Curious Case of Richard the Lionheart’, in Sodomy, Masculinity, and Law in Medieval Literature: France and England, 1050-1230 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 73–85. Also on the overall topic, Robert Mills, Seeing Sodomy in the Middle Ages (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015). 

Peter the Chanter, a Parisian cleric, also wrote De vitio sodomitico, a chapter of his Verbum abbreviatum, fulminating against “men with men, women with women [masculi cum masculis […] mulieres cum mulieribus]” which apparently happened far too often for his liking in twelfth-century Paris (along with cross-dressing and other genderqueer behaviour; the Latin version of this can be found in ‘Verbum Abbreviatum: De vitio sodomitico’ in Patrologia Latina, ed. Jacques-Paul Migne (Paris: 1855), vol. 205, pp. 333–35). Moving into the thirteenth and especially fourteenth centuries, this bond only grew in importance, and involved a new kind of anxiety. Richard Zeikowitz’s book, Homoeroticism and Chivalry: Discourses of Male Same-Sex Desire in the 14th Century (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), explores this discourse in detail, and points out that the intensely homoerotic element of chivalry was deeply embedded in medieval culture – and that this was something that was not queer, i.e. unusual, to them. It is modern audiences who see this behaviour as somehow contravening our expected stereotypes of medieval knights as Ultra Manly No Homo Men. When we label this “medieval queerness,” we are also making a judgment about our own expectations, and the way in which we ourselves have normalized one narrow and rigid view of masculinity.

England then had two queer kings in the 14th century, Edward II and Richard II, both of whom ended up deposed. These were for other political reasons, but their queerness was not irrelevant to assessments of their character and the reactions of their contemporaries. Sylvia Federico (‘Queer Times: Richard II in the Poems and Chronicles of Late Fourteenth-Century England’, Medium Aevum 79 (2010), 25–46) has studied the corpus of queer-coded historical writing around Richard, and noted that while the Lancastrian propaganda postdating the usurpation of Henry IV in 1399 obviously had an intent to cast his predecessor in as unfit a light as possible, the accusations of queerness started during Richard’s reign, “well before any real practical design on the throne […] and well before the famous lapse into tyranny that characterized the reign’s last few years. In poems and chronicles produced from the mid-1380s to the early 1390s, and in language that is highly charged with homophobic references, Richard II is marked as unfit to rule”. E. Amanda McVitty (‘False Knights and True Men: Contesting Chivalric Masculinity in English Treason Trials, 1388–1415,’ Journal of Medieval History 40 (2014), 458–77) examined how the treason trials of high-status individuals centred on a symbolic deconstruction of his chivalric manhood, demoting and exiling him from the intricate homosocial networks that governed the creation and performance of medieval masculinity.

This appears to have been a fairly extensive phenomenon, and one not confined to the geopolitical space of England. Henric Bagerius and Christine Ekholst (‘Kings and Favourites: Politics and Sexuality in Late Medieval Europe’, Journal of Medieval History 43 (2017), 298–319) traced the use of ‘discursive sodomy’ as a rhetorical tool employed against five late medieval monarchs, including Richard II and his great-grandfather Edward II, John II and Henry IV of Castile, and Magnus Eriksson of Sweden. In all cases, the ruler in question was viewed as emotionally and possibly sexually dependent on another man, subject to his evil counsels and treacherous wiles, and this reflected a communal anxiety that the body of the king himself – and thus the body politic – had been unacceptably queered. Nonetheless, as a divinely anointed figure and the head of state, the accusations of gender displacement or suspected sodomy could not be placed directly on the king, and were instead deflected onto the favourites themselves, generally characterised as greedy, grasping men of ignoble birth, who subverted both social and sexual order by their domination of the supposedly passive king. 

None of this polemic produced by hostile sources can be read as direct confirmation of the private and physical actions of the kings behind closed doors, but in a sense, this is immaterial. The intimate lives of presumably heterosexual individuals are constructed on the same standards of evidence and to much greater certainty.  In other words, queerness and queer/gay favourites could not have functioned as a textual metaphor or charged accusation if there was not some understanding of it as a lived behaviour. After all, if the practice did not physically exist or was not considered as a potential reality, there could have been no anxieties around the possibility of its improper prosecution.

This leads us nicely into the deeply vexed question of adelphopoiesis, or the “brother-making” ceremony argued by some, including John Boswell, as a medieval form of gay marriage. (Boswell, who died of AIDS in 1994, published the landmark Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality in 1980, and among other things, controversially argued that the medieval Catholic church was a vehicle for social acceptance of gay people.) Boswell’s critics have fiercely attacked this stance, claiming that the ceremony was only intended to join two men together in a celibate sibling-like relationship. A Straight Historian who participated in a modern version of the ceremony in 1985 actually argued that since she had no sexual inclinations or motives in taking part, clearly it was never used for that purpose by medieval men either. (Pause for sighing.) 

The problem is: we can’t argue intentions or private actions either way. We can understand what the idealized and legal designation for the ceremony was intended to be, but we cannot then outrageously claim that every historical individual who took part in it did so for the party line reason. Maybe medieval men who joined together in brother-making ceremonies did live a celibate and saintly life (this would not be surprising). It seems ludicrous to argue, however, that none of them were romantically in love with each other, or that they never ever ever had sex, because surprise, formulaic documents and institutional guidelines cannot tell us anything about the actions of real individuals making complex choices. Even if this was not always a homosexual institution (and once again with the dangerous practice of equivocating queerness with explicitly practiced and “provable” sexual behaviour), it was beyond all reasonable doubt a homoromantic one, and one sanctioned and organised according to well-known medieval conventions, desires (for two men to live together and love each other above all) and anxieties (that they might then have sex).

The medieval men who took a ‘brother’ would probably not have seen it as a marriage, or as the kind of household formation or social contract implied in a heterosexual union, but as we have also discussed, the definition of marriage in the Middle Ages was under constant contestation anyway.  The church was constantly anxious about knights: their violence, their (oftentimes) lack of religiosity, their proclivity for tournaments, swearing, drinking, and other immoral behaviour, the possibility of them having sexual affairs with each other and/or with women (though Andreas Capellanus, in De amore, wrote an entire spectacularly misogynistic handbook about how to have the right kind of love affair with a woman and dismissed same-sex relationships in one sentence as gross and unworthy, so he was clearly the No Homo Bro Knight of his day). So, as this has gotten long: gay knights were basically one of the central social, religious, and cultural concerns of the entire Middle Ages, due to their position in society, their necessity in a warlike culture, the social influence of chivalry and their tendency to bad behaviour, their perceived influence over the king (who they may also have given their Gay Cooties), their disregard of the church’s teachings, and the ever-present possibility that their love wasn’t celibate. So yes. Gay knights: Hella Historically Accurate.

The end.

[jaylightning]

Chapter 14 - The Boogeyman

The room was quiet for a brief moment with this appearance of the violet-eyed male.  The atmosphere of the room had seemed to change to an eerie calm.  If one was to explain it, it was the calm that came from an acceptance.  Only issue was that no one was willing to accept this feeling.

“Oh, dear.  After business hours, and letting in people?  Y’know, one of ya could at least offer our friend here something to drink?  He’s traveled quite the distance,” Lotus would speak out as he came back down to see the scene before them.  Raven was on his feet, on edge.  One move he saw out of place would see an attack.  Lotus could see this from a mile away.  Meanwhile, Ria and Matthew were keeping back, nervous.  Everyone was simply on edge.  This wasn’t good.

“C’mon, guys ~ Just relax.  It’s only natural to be tense around--”

“That’ll be enough, Lotus.  Plus, I don’t really need a drink right now.” the male spoke, stopping the chef from speaking anymore.

“Okay so this is another secret that Lotus is keeping? if you two know each other, then I’d like to know what exactly is going on... STILL,” A red head was growing more furious by the minute with these new puzzle pieces showing up in the form of Lotus’ background.  Just how much he was hiding was setting off a bomb.

“Don’t worry.  This isn’t much of a secret he chose to keep.  Rather, it is a tale a little too silly to believe.  Much so that I’m sure with this guy’s sense of humor that he’s told you several times, but you shrugged it off as bad humor.”

“Speaking of bad humor, it’s not nice showing up three months early for an audit, Health Inspector, but I assure you everything is fine and dandy here,” Lotus told him.  It wasn’t often that the goofy smile was missing from Lotus.  It was more solemn, almost worrisome.

“Yes, I am more than aware.  As I said, I am only here to help in an issue that you all seem to be having.  I was sent to investigate the matter of your former boss, Lotus.  As you all are staring to learn, there is a bit of a disturbance in your world.  Many species are being invaded and stolen from their homes for a purpose we’ve yet to discover.  We do know a lot of lives have been lost, and we can only assume only more will be taken if this isn’t stopped.  So for starters,” the male approached Lotus with a hand going around the other’s neck, “Let’s take care of one thing--”

“Alright, enough!” Raven had enough and made a charge considering this looked more of a threat than anything.  Within a split second, a flash from Lotus’ neck followed by him collapsing and holding the back of his neck, actually in pain for a change.  The male had spun around to meet Raven and a duck under a fist that was charged with wind.  For a brief second, the violet-eyed male examined the shot and wind before throwing an open-handed palm that would send Raven back with enough force to crash into a booth and break it.

“Raven!” Ria was up and at it to check up on the detective while Matthew was just staring at the male.

“I think ... I get it.  The violet eyes, Lotus’ connection, and this... air.  Along with everything else you just said.  You’re a servant of the death gods, aren’t you?” he asked with Ria looking back over with a little more horror to her features.

“What do you mean--”

“Someone’s read their legends.  Wouldn’t say Servant, but I am of the family of the original Death God, or Shinigami.  Whichever is easier.  My name is Kuraduro Iroth, and I’m here to aid you guys in dealing with Yuuma Samil.”

Standing back up, Lotus would rub his neck as he already had an idea of what had just happened.  Seeing Raven starting to stir and get up, he had to whistle at the damage caused.  “Well ... He did ask for it, but could ya been a little more gentle on the store?” he asked before glancing over to Matthew next, “Also, that’s our little genius.  He reads a lot of things thanks to Mia... Who’d be screaming at us both if she knew I was involved in you guys.  Not that I have a choice.” Lotus commented with the Iroth laughing.

“My apologizes.  On the bright side of things, as of today you are free from your restrictions for this mission.  I believe your friends will need you now more than ever ... but I also think you will need to face your past, eventually.  This goes well enough, I may be able to fully free you-”

“Free him..? You tellin’ me this guy has been confined here in his own store and this city all this time because of you?” Raven asked as he got himself back up, properly, though he had stumbled in doing so.  The question had Kuraduro raising a brow with Lotus giving a small nod. 

“It’s the condition of the power I possess. I told you my dark days were a little chaotic... So what happens when you kill many people and their souls don’t quite make it to the afterlife?  You know that’s a part of my Realm, but... I never quite told you the full truth of my power.  It’s a power that you’re not quite born with.  It’s a power transferred in dreams.” Lotus spoke with Kuraduro patting the shoulder of Lotus.

“Along the course of time, a single entity plagued the nightmares of people it found appetizing.  It preyed on anyone with powerful dreams, and it would consume their very being through those dreams. People would go to sleep, but they’d never wake up.  Lotus had been visited by this demon ... but unlike past victims, Lotus woke up.  The demon’s soul was killed and absorbed into the soul of  Lotus here.  Basically, he is the new dream demon, or Boogeyman as one may call it in this world.”

“Basically, I had a wild imagination the guy couldn’t handle ~” Lotus spoke with a laugh.

The three would just stare at Lotus and Kuraduro that seem to know the full story of Lotus before any of them even knew a thing.  They just knew Lotus had spoken of his power as just his imagination running wild and taking form.  But to go as far as to say he’s a boogeyman?

��Whiiiich is why I have to be restricted and have these visits. This power is very much a mystery considering no one even knew if this thing was real.  It exists only  in its own realm, never seen by a person that lived to tell.  Sorry for not saying anything, but-“

“Look, I’m not going to pretend I fully understand, but I don’t need anymore explanations.  All I need is for this death god to give me a plan.  Boogeyman or not, we got work to do,” Raven spoke before groaning.  Standing still hurts.

“Also, Raven.  Yes?  After we discuss matters, I have something to ask you in private in concern of that power of yours..” Kuraduro would add on with the male looking rather irritated at the comment.  He did not feel the desire to speak to the guy that just launched him like a home-run baseball.

“Wait!  How can we talk if Lotus will die if he speaks anything?” Matthew would ask out with Kuraduro cracking a quick smile.

“The curse has been burned away by my own-ah ... What you might call magic? ability?  Maybe it’s better to call it ‘Anti-magic’.” he explained with Lotus nodding.

“Yeah... Burned.  Could had warned me, by the way..” Lotus muttered the last part, not exactly enjoying that sort of pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was hustling out to catch up to Naito that should be close by.  Sure enough, she was able to spot him which she was ready to call out to her love.  What stopped her was a look of seriousness to him.  He was hiding which meant there was something or someone close by.  Ducking low, she would approach the other without a sound and simply just wait for a command from the pyro master.

“Heh... Good thing ya went and changed to something more fitting in spy work,” Naito commented with noticing quick of Mia being out of her typical dresses and more into darker, tighter clothing.  Loose articles could prevent movements which Mia would need being on the field like this.  The issue was that she had no idea what was even going on.  Frankly, she was growing upset by the minute.

“Comment on m’ wear all ya want.  Ain’t gonna change that yer not talkin’,” she whispered with a hand being raised to shush her.

“Chill, hun.  Check it out...” he motioned as he moved away from the bush for Mia to take a peak and view out from what was in front.  She could see a couple of people tied up and being held prisoner by a single woman with long-brunette hair.  She also seemed to be dancing to a song that no one could hear.  ... Wait.

“Hey, Idol?  Do you hear violin music...?” Mia asked with Naito not exactly responding, but he was starting to sweat.

[unchosens]

❝ There’s something inside you, it’s hard to explain. They’re talking about you, boy, but you’re still the same.❞  HARRY POTTER looks a lot like that muggle, MATTHEW GOODE, right? Only 45 years old, that GRYFFINDOR alumnus works as a FORMER HEAD AUROR and is sided with the ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. HE identifies as a CIS MAN and is a HALFBLOOD. [ JESS, SHE/HER, 23, GMT+10 ]

Note: Also putting this intro up early, to convey a general sense of what Harry is up to right now! Feel free to come and plot with me, ask questions or anything like that. There’s also a lot of missing pieces in this, relationships that I haven’t been able to plot yet, so more to come!

TW DEATH, PARENTAL DEATH AND BRIEF MENTIONS OF TORTURE & SUICIDAL IDEATION

PAST (this got away from me a bit, skip to RESURRECTION for the most relevant section)

·         Life was difficult for Harry after the war (hmmmn, wonder what it would be like to have a difficult life?). He couldn’t bear the idea of going back to Hogwarts. Not only did the memories of everyone who died there haunt him, but it felt pointless. He didn’t belong there anymore, sitting in class, trying to pretend everything was the same. Harry signed up with the Aurors instead, in the direct aftermath not seeing another path for himself than to continue what he had started in protecting others. The work didn’t exactly make him happy, but it was a fulfilling purpose, helping him get up in the morning every day.

·         The lightning scar was never the worst of his wounds. The memories of the people who’d died (for him), the feeling of Voldemort in his head, the sounds of Hermione screaming under torture, Remus, Tonks, Fred and Colin dead in the Great Hall were all what truly lingered. He tried his best, but he couldn’t help but think if he’d been smarter, done things a better way, they’d still be alive. They could all still be alive. The things Harry had done himself – such as the torture of Amycus Carrow - haunted him less, but he isn’t proud of it either. There were days he thought he’d never get out of his own head, once trapped there by Voldemort, now only by himself – days he thought something had gone wrong inside of him and he simply wasn’t built for anything but fighting a war. It was of course Ron and Hermione he leaned on most, who helped him recover from the very worst of his depression and PTSD. Harry was never good at talking about the things that bothered him most, but they were there for almost all of it. They understood. It was Ron never failing to bring him a cup of tea or make a stupidly brilliant joke that only Harry would find hilarious, and Hermione coming to him to talk over every cause she was championing (and that, essentially, Harry knew he would also be championing) that made the difference. They were still here. Still alive. That was enough. Teddy too was a great source of healing for him, not just a reason to keep living, but also a presence that made Harry enjoy life again. While Andromeda was mostly their primary caregiver, Harry regards Teddy as his fourth and eldest child.

·         When Kingsley soon approached him about Auror training, Harry didn’t hesitate. It was what he had always planned on – the only thing he’d planned on. And it was a natural extension of the work he’d already been doing, helping with the trials and the remaining Death Eaters. For someone not expecting to survive, there was something healing about participating in the clean-up, in the rebuild. In a way, he recognised that there was something sorrowful in his choice to become an Auror. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see a different path – he ended up occasionally guest lecturing at Hogwarts, for NEWT DADA students and enjoyed it. But at the end of the day, that life was not for him. It might have been restful – but Harry knew he had never been a restful person. He never would be. At least now it was on his terms, his choice. He could go on doing the only thing that truly kept him sane with all he had lost – ensuring that those he loved would stay safe. That’s not to say it didn’t take a while to find a healthy balance – at first Harry threw himself into the work, caring little for his own wellbeing when the only thing he feared was losing momentum and having to think about the trauma of the war. Because after all, the war might have been over, but the society that had created it was still very much alive.

·         Becoming an Auror required a lengthy adjustment process. The war was over, yes, but it was time for politics to begin, and there, Harry was out of his depth. He had old scars, too, from dealing with the Ministry and a lot of distrust. He’d never been good at working with others – who weren’t Ron and Hermione, but luckily, both were still at his side. What was far more difficult was learning to accept help from other people too, and additionally, getting used to the slow and bureaucratic way Aurors had of solving problems. Harry couldn’t just throw himself headfirst into danger anymore, surviving on skill, luck and nerve – he had to listen, obey orders and co-operate.

·         Furthermore, a lot of his co-workers weren’t particularly receptive to the relentless way Harry and his friends pursued reform. The famous Golden Trio were still inseparable, and frankly, unstoppable when they had a cause. It was mostly Hermione leading the way, but Harry wasn’t going to sit back and participate in more of the same Ministry corruption either. For him, it was the personal that took foremost priority. The rehabilitation of Azkaban was something he assisted Kingsley with – removing the Dementors and improving living conditions for the prisoners. He also contributed to the reform of legal trials – nothing more painful to him than the memory of Sirius’ twelve years in Azkaban without a trial, the lost years they could have had together, and the life stolen from his godfather.

·         That said, Harry himself was far from perfect. While he wasn’t especially guilt-ridden over his needless and anger-fuelled torture of Carrow, or the other, more practical uses he’d made of the Imperius Curse during the war, he couldn’t in good conscience fail to recount the whole story, everything he did, when telling Kingsley what had happened. Kingsley organised a pardon for war crimes, which he then promptly buried at the Ministry for political reasons, knowing that people didn’t want to know this about their hero and it would only create trouble. He wanted to protect both Harry and the new government. Harry went along with this, hating the idea of undergoing more publicity, more attention, and following Kingsley’s lead to let it rest. In a way, Kingsley became his new Dumbledore for many years after the war and to him, Harry was a loyal soldier while he and the Trio began to find their own footing and political views as public figures. However, his use of the Unforgivables remain a secret even now, something not known to many outside of Harry’s closest circle of Ginny, Ron, Hermione and some of the Order. When Harry thought of that time and what he did, he remembered the danger of his temper, of what he was capable of if he gave into anger, of where it could lead him. That, more than anything else, was what haunted him about what he’d done and was a warning he planned on passing on to his children when he considered them old enough – yet he often put it off, afraid of what they might come to think of him.

·         Before that, he and Ginny rebuilt their relationship, finding their deep connection to still be alive and strong after the horrors of war. It was Ginny who got him without Harry having to speak, and it was Ginny who could make him laugh again. She understood the trauma in his past and had never changed the way she looked at him. They eventually got married and supported each other as they grew their careers, Ginny in professional Quidditch and Harry in working his way up the ranks of the Aurors until he became Head Auror. They had three children, whose names were picked out to honour the past: James, Albus, and Lily. As his family grew, Harry truly felt for the first time in his life that he was putting the past to rest, finally letting go of all his pain. His own childhood had very little love in it once he was sent to the Dursleys - as a parent, he wanted to ensure his children grew up with everything he didn’t have, as well as give them the best of him, usually at his most patient and even-tempered around them, if also a little overprotective.

·         Harry was disappointed when Ron left the Aurors – he was so used to relying on him as his partner. It was hard not to feel a little abandoned even though he understood why Ron chose to go and was happy for him – but Ron probably never realised just how lost Harry felt without him, for a long time, not being able to look across and see him at the next desk over. He continued to work closely with Hermione, treating her office as an extension of his own (“I feel smarter in yours, alright?”) and always politically aligned with her, a near unbeatable team. His friendship with Ron didn’t change – they were still brothers. Harry had never had a family until Ron, and soon after, the Weasleys. With his marriage, it was official, as was Hermione being his sister but Harry had felt the truth of that long before. Still, it was the happiest time of his life, having what he’d always craved so much. His nieces and nephews were also well-loved by Harry, who if at times could seem a little more reserved than the other Weasley uncles, was no less affectionate. And it was that older Weasley generation around whom he’d always been able to open up – the younger Wotters were the same. He loved them all, but the worst kept family secret was Uncle Harry’s soft spot for the children of Ron and Hermione, it being something of a joke around the cousins that Harry simultaneously tried very hard to appear impartial and was very bad at concealing his feelings.

·         The extent of his trauma was a much better kept secret – something Harry never liked talking about beyond the essentials that he had to share with them. Protecting his family was his highest priority, but his fame and position made it difficult. Harry tried to keep his kids from the spotlight as much as possible, but even he knew it was hopeless. The press had never stopped being interested in the Boy Who Lived, even once he was a man. For himself, he hated the publicity - personally, he could never quite get over the lies and the harassment he’d faced, the way he'd been treated as a spectacle to dissect all over the front page. But Harry had also seen firsthand what it was like when false information and dogma was fed through the news and so professionally, he knew it was crucial to speak to them – in his capacity as Head Auror only. His most important rule, which he made clear at every interview with his sternest expression and very coldest voice was that he never spoke about his family. All he ever wanted was for his children to have safe and happy lives, and he would have done anything to make that happen. It was why Harry struggled with Lily’s ambition to be an Auror. At once painfully proud and fiercely worried that she would find the cycle of violence and darkness too much to bear, it took time for him to accept that she was just as stubborn as he ever was.

ORDER

·         The rise of the Wraiths made Harry furious, perhaps more than even he had ever been before (and he was always very good at anger). The sacrifices he had made, that the people who had fought and died had made, were not going to be made into nothing. He reformed the Order not just to fight, but to win, knowing that once more, the Ministry was too large and corruptible to be trusted. And this time, he had no intention of doing it in secret, beyond the covertness necessary for survival. The Order itself would be secret, but Harry was going to speak out. This was their world now. They weren’t children, and they weren’t powerless.

·         He depended on his old circle to be his fellow leaders, Ron and Hermione, Ginny, Luna and Neville – there was no one else he trusted more, and together he had faith they could end this, for once and for all this time.

·         He took the codename Hart, a reference to his stag Patronus - hart being a term for an adult red deer, was also chosen for Gryffindor red, but of course, he had to endure a lot of jokes mostly from Ron and the Weasley brothers about being the heart of the Order. All of which Harry dismissed with an eyeroll – he wasn’t special, certainly not more than any of them. They were going to win together.

PROPHECY

·         When Harry heard about the Prophecy, his determination to fight didn’t change, but he also felt a deep dread, an ever-increasing disconcertment at the way history seemed to be repeating itself. He wasn’t afraid of having to fight Voldemort again – he would do that prophecy be damned. He didn’t need a prophecy to tell him to do that. But Harry was afraid of the past repeating itself, of more people dying for him, of them making a sacrifice for someone who wasn’t worth it. How could he, how could one person, be worth all the death that lay in his past? The worst of it was the fear of who could be lost next – his children, the very best of his life; his wife, who was the greatest source of happiness he’d ever had; or his friends, who’d never backed down from his side, despite the risks they’d faced.

·         The thing about prophecies was that Harry learnt them, as he learnt so many things, at Dumbledore’s knee. Hearing this one made him angry. The only one who could defeat an unspeakable enemy? Already, it implied that he would once more be the victor, the one to survive, the one who lives. What about his children? His wife? His best friends? There were no assurances for them and Harry had no intention of being the survivor this time, not if it meant losing them. The one thing he wanted was to end this war before his children had to be more involved than they already were. And that, to Harry, meant not listening to the prophecy. He already knew they didn’t have to be true – that it was Voldemort who had really marked Harry as his eventual killer. Dumbledore had told him that, and whatever complicated feelings he had about the man, who he at once loved, resented and couldn’t bear to hear criticised, Harry still had more faith in him than just about anyone else. If there needed to be a sacrifice this time, he’d be the one to do it.

·         The only problem was that if other people chose to believe the prophecy – and they did – he and his family would be a target. He knew in a way that it was his own fault. After all, he did defeat Voldemort. But Harry also knew it wasn’t because of any prophecy. As he once put it, he chose to walk into that arena with his head held high and do the job marked for him, by Voldemort, by Dumbledore – but not by fate. To the rest of the world, though, he had proven once before that he was the Chosen One. So the Potter family increased their protections, and went as close into hiding as they could go without actually going into hiding, all the while the spectres of James and Lily I and their fate hanging over him.

·         Meanwhile, considering his determination to not believe this Prophecy, Harry started thinking about what might happen if he did die. It was certainly not his intention to die – he didn’t mean to sacrifice himself simply for the sake of it, but he’d fight and die if necessary, like anyone else. He had to think, then, about how that might mean leaving his children with nothing.

·         Years ago he’d given the Marauder’s Map to Teddy, who he assumed had since passed it down to James, and perhaps Albus and Lily in turn (Harry didn’t need to know about that, it wasn’t supposed to be passed down from parent to child, but from mischief maker to mischief maker - though regardless of that, he knew what it was like to crave a connection to the father you’d never known and it belonged as much to the Lupins as to the Potters. He might not have known much about his father, but he was sure James Potter I would have wanted Teddy Lupin to have that map).

·         Now, however, Harry gave his long-treasured Invisibility Cloak to Lily as a means of protection at Hogwarts from the student Wraiths and also as a tacit sign of his approval of her decision to become an Auror. But truthfully, it was also because of his uncertainty of whether he’d make it out alive this time. Perhaps, if the worst indeed came, it would give her comfort, as having something of his own father always had for him. He also, at this time, looked past his own desire to stay perfect in her eyes and told Lily about his own use of the Unforgivable Curses in his past, knowing that she was in many ways, just like him - and if Lily was going to choose the same path as him, face the same darkness, he wanted to warn her of the dangers of their shared temperament. He had passed on enough pain to Lily already and he did not want her to repeat his mistakes. At Hogwarts, Lily did need the Cloak the most; for James, Albus and Teddy, all adults, he focused on giving them all the time he could, just in case. He wanted them to know there was nothing in the world he loved as much. That it had all been worth it, to get to this part of his life, where he got to have them.

·         That was then. While the fact that he has been brought back from the dead as a living revenant seems to point to the prophecy’s accuracy, the old Harry would have pointed out that knowledge of the prophecy would have encouraged the Knights to bring him back as just that – a self-fulfilling prophecy once more. Now, without his memories, Harry is less inclined to regard the prophecy as false, not when everyone around him seems to credit it but it remains yet another thing Harry struggles to believe about himself. What chance does he have of defeating any enemy? He doesn’t even know who he is. He doesn’t know if he wants to know who he is, if he even wants to be alive. He might be a revenant, but he isn’t a hero. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help. If he knew where to start, he’d try. For all his confusion and grief over the heaven he’s lost, there’s no part of Harry capable of sitting back and doing nothing. But he’s lost. Whoever Harry Potter used to be, he’s no one’s Chosen One anymore.

DEATH

·         The one thing he wanted was to end this war before his children had to be more involved than they already were. But tragically, that hope ended the same night Harry’s life did. October 31 2024. Lestrange, something of a sadist, had chosen the night on purpose and tormented Harry with the fact before he died. Harry gave up any hope of escape, preferring to buy time for his family. (All details are pending plotting with other involved characters!)

·         Ginny took James and Albus to safety, to the Granger-Weasley safehouse, only to return with Ron and Hermione to help Harry. They were too late to find anything more than his body, bereft of his wand, which had been taken by the Wraiths as a trophy.

·         He was buried at Godric’s Hollow, in the graveyard next to his parents’ plot. On their other side is a memorial stone Harry organised himself, honouring Sirius and Regulus Black, neither of whom left a body behind. Harry, alongside Andromeda, also oversaw the burials of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks at Godric’s Hollow.

RESURRECTION

·         Harry Potter had been resting, at peace. He was torn away from that when he woke up in his grave, to be found by the Knights and told who he was. At first he felt nothing so much as confusion. All he could really remember was being safe, comfortable, warm; now it was eyes on him all the time, hushed whispers in his presence, frightened voices and angry discussions in which people threw around blame. Learning of his past made him more unnerved still – it was impossible to think of being this person others described, apparently the perfect hero … though Harry can’t help but see the trail of death that seems to follow this past self of his in all the stories. Touching everyone except him.

·         Being around his old family and friends is, for the most part, uncomfortable. He doesn’t know how to act around any of them, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be. And they look at him with so much expectation, so much hope. It’s the worst around his children. The way they look at him could break him if he let it. Despite everything he doesn’t remember, Harry hates the feeling that he’s disappointing people. It hurts to let them down, when it seems as if they love him so very much. If only he could remember. But no matter how much he tries, he can’t find what he’s lost – what, he sometimes thinks, might no longer exist as anything other than someone else’s memory.

·         And there are times he doesn’t want to try. Times all he feels is anger, an anger he tries not to show, but it’s there. He doesn’t belong here. He shouldn’t be here. And they brought him back. It was the first thing he had said when he was pulled out of the grave – “I’m not supposed to be here. Who are you? Why did you do this to me?” Since then, it’s never really stopped hurting. It got worse when he learnt about Neville Longbottom – Harry doesn’t remember the man, but knowing he should be alive and Harry should be dead is a lot to bear. From the stories, though, allowing other people to die for him is nothing new. The question is why other people keep going along with it.

·         With the resurrection, Harry has been altered. Some things remain the same – he’s still brave and determined, still resilient and certainly still internalising his own feelings, trying to be strong, because it’s what people seem to expect of him, what they’re looking to him for. And he can’t help but try to be what others need instinctively, though truth be told, he’s no better than he ever was at comforting others, awkward and unpractised at both words and touches of love. The feeling of a wand in his hand is familiar, even if he doesn’t remember old spells, and he seems to have a way of rubbing the scar on his forehead when he’s thinking, or brushing flat the unruly hair on his head, that might well painfully remind his forgotten loved ones of the man they knew. But while he still feels those old instincts deep within, ultimately, he’s more consumed with himself and his own pain. It’s something like being a child again – egocentric and absorbed in his own feelings.

·         His worst flaws, the ones that before his death, Harry had spent years working on and trying to master are instead amplified – his temper, impatience, independent streak, tendency to internalise and his disregard of his own life. For now, he’s cooperating, remaining hidden in the Order safehouse, but he’s never been easy to control, and while others are consumed with trying to figure out what to do about Harry, what’s right - even with the best of intentions, he’s never liked being told what to do or “handled” like a problem. As if he’s incapable. In fact, that tends to make him more defiant, more reckless, and without the bitterly learnt lessons in controlling those urges, Harry is every day more likely to do something he can’t take back.

·         The worst part of it is that he doesn’t really know what he wants – to do anything and everything possible to get back his memories, regardless of danger? To fight alongside the people who are apparently his family? Or to leave, to take the offer of a peaceful life without any of them, to leave and never look back? Deep down, there’s another urge, to give up entirely, to stop fighting past the pain he feels in order to stay alive – it’d be easier to return to the heaven he’d lost. That much he can’t say out loud to anyone, sure of the pain it would cause to these people who won’t seem to stop fighting for him, whether he wants them to or not.

[isfjmel-phleg]

it's "the secret garden" anon yet again! i'm curious, could you elaborate on your problems with "anne with an e?" i have some criticism myself; it's such a nice show but i also feels it strays from the source material too much

Bear in mind that I have only seen the first season (and haven’t heard anything about the others that particularly persuades me to continue) and am not trying to insult any fans. It’s a well-acted series with excellent production values. But I am discussing why it didn’t work for me.

I can understand making changes to an adaptation as long as the essential story, characters, and themes are in place. Anne with an E struck me as less interested in adapting Montgomery’s story than in rewriting it to be the story she should have told, as if it were a flaw of the book not to be dark and concentrated on social issues (not that that’s necessarily a bad thing, just not the point of the novel) and, frankly, kind of cynical.

The Anne of the novel is indeed a girl who has had an extremely difficult past and has been raised by people who were unkind to her. Nevertheless, she is determinedly hopeful, and while her retreat into imagination is to an extent a coping mechanism, it’s also inherent to her nature. She has suffered but it has not consumed her. The Anne of the TV series is not quite the same character. She’s harsher, downright deliberately rude at times (the way she speaks to Jerry after meeting him really bothered me; he’s done nothing to deserve such treatment, and it felt out of character for her to be so vindictive without a cause), and seems to simmer with an underlying bitter anger--not the quick but fleeting temper of her novel counterpart, but a sort of...I don’t know, almost belligerence toward life?

The series justifies this as a result of her past--implying she has PTSD, an interesting concept but not one that the text adequately supports, I think--which, through flashbacks, is revealed to be rather exaggeratedly horrific. It’s as if almost everyone in Anne’s life is consumingly dedicated to singling her--and only her--out for torment. I mean, they seem to care a lot about making this random orphan girl miserable. It seems more likely that her past would be full of neglect, being ignored, not cared for or about, treated like an object; that other orphans would maybe taunt her vocabulary and roll their eyes and walk away instead of taking the trouble to catch and handle a mouse just to shove it in her mouth (???). Is that not traumatic and hurtful enough, especially for someone like Anne? The series is trying extra hard to establish her as a Victim, and it really isn’t necessary. You should be able to feel for her and root for her without this level of effort.

The result is a dark tone not in keeping with that of the novel, which may not always be bright and cheery--Matthew’s death is devastating--but has a pervading optimism and sense of humor that I don’t recall getting from the series. Montgomery treats the foibles of her characters with a light satirical touch, and more of them are harmlessly silly or self-important than truly bad people. But the series uses most of the inhabitants of Avonlea as a means to convey its insistence that most people of the past were despicably small-minded and hateful. The truth is far more complicated--Montgomery’s novel, written in the actual past by someone who lived then, does not present such a black and white picture at all--but the series does not treat the complex issue with the nuance and subtlety it requires.

Instead, Anne’s worldview takes anachronistic cues from the present day, and the only alternative is exaggerated bigotry. The “kindred spirit” Reverend Allan of the novel is replaced by a minister who spouts misogynistic views on women’s education that are absent from the book. If I recall correctly, Anne in the books encounters little if any opposition to her academic pursuits--and quite a lot of support. Why was it necessary to make the people around her more sexist than they were written to be in 1908? Can’t an author who lived through the era she wrote about be trusted to portray her world as she knew it? The result was a rather forced, heavy-handed treatment of the issue. This “century ahead” interpretation of Anne seems to come from an idea that a character from another time cannot be unconventional, unique, or relatable without conforming to the standards of our day. This is not only unrealistic but rather self-congratulatory. (Just imagine a TV series being made a century from now portraying all of us as hive-mindedly horrible jerks without human complexity or widely varying views!)

On another note, I was very uncomfortable with the scene in which Anne reveals to her classmates what she knows about her previous guardians’ sex life. That Mrs. Hammond would discuss so thoroughly such a topic, even in veiled terms (Anne doesn’t seem to fully understand the implications of what she’s repeating), with a child does not seem likely for a housewife of that era. Any questions Anne might have had about that topic would more probably have met with curt dismissal. The scene felt out of place for me, and seemed perhaps a deliberate snub at / subversion of the innocence of the novel. There’s realism and then there’s cynicism, and for me, Anne with an E leans more toward the latter. And that’s just not a reading of the story that appeals to me.

[pomegranate-belle]

prompt if you wanna: someone starts hitting on foggy, go matt gets into a Mode™ and warns the person off, but they double down and start hitting on him harder just to spite our resident sadboy

I’m not sure if this is exaaaactly what you were looking for, but your prompt reminded me of the loose idea I had for introducing Elektra into the Gwenverse; that is, as Foggy’s college ex instead of Matt’s. And then when I was writing, this exploded into like 3000 words and became very upsetting, so I’m sorry.

—

Elektra Natchios made the hair on the back of Matt’s neck stand on end. He wasn’t scared of her — he wasn’t scared of anything — but he knew instinctively that she was more than the mean-spirited little debutante she pretended to be. Beneath her flowery, expensive perfumes, she smelled like blood and steel. Which made it all the more baffling and all the more irritating that she latched on to Foggy immediately after meeting him.

Thankfully, she made the mistake of calling him ‘Franklin’ and irrevocably soured her first impression. And although that slip was one Foggy might otherwise be willing to forgive, Matt was happy to see he also had enough sense to be wary of Elektra’s motives.

“She just reminds me of the kinds of girls who’d ask me out in high school on a dare from their friends,” he admitted to Matt one night, without bitterness or shame. “Although since she’s a diplomat’s kid I guess it’s probably more likely this is Rosalind’s doing.”

Rosalind. Foggy’s birth mother. A cutthroat attorney with her fingers in all sorts of pies. It was something Matt hadn’t considered — a reasonable explanation, he supposed, except that Elektra moved like a killer. Still, it would make a good excuse to keep Foggy out of Elektra’s claws while Matt figured out who she really worked for.

“Better not to risk it,” Matt said with a shrug. “Plenty of other fish in the sea. That’s a thing people say, right?”

The words coaxed a laugh from Foggy’s mouth.

“Maybe for you, buddy. I don’t exactly have prospects banging down my door. And she is extremely hot...” After a long pause, Foggy sighed, falling back onto his bed with a thump. “Ehh, I’m not gross enough to test if she’d sleep with me just to keep up the ruse, though. Come on, help me come up with something really mean to say to her to get her to back off, you’re scary good at stuff like that.”

It was nice, Matt thought to himself, to be appreciated for one’s talents, even the unimportant ones. He spent the next two hours concocting increasingly scathing brush-offs for Foggy to use on Elektra. Foggy sounded conflicted but impressed at every one.

—

“Foggy!” Elektra greeted brightly — then, less so. “Matthew.”

Foggy took a deep breath the way he always did when he needed to gather his courage. Matt shifted closer so their shoulders brushed; casual contact usually seemed to help, when it came to Foggy, and this time was no different.

“What do you want, Elektra?” Foggy asked sharply, and Matt was reminded with a little shiver of Foggy’s cold tone during mock debates.

“I thought we could go get a drink tonight,” Elektra replied, and Matt’s hands clenched into fists at the sound of her running her fingers up Foggy’s arm. “Maybe some dinner? I know this lovely little place with a view of the whole city. I’ll even be a gentleman and pay.”

It was the kind of joke Matt knew Foggy normally found funny. But he didn’t laugh, just shook Elektra off. The movement jostled Matt too but he hardly minded.

“Stop it!” Foggy snapped.

“Pardon?” asked Elektra, and her tone went a little icy.

“Look,” said Foggy, and he was practically shaking he was so upset, “I don’t know what you’re really after and I don’t care, but you’re a really shitty actress, ok? You’re clearly about as real as a three dollar bill and I’m not gonna date you. So buzz off.”

For once, Elektra didn’t have a smart remark to make. Her heartbeat even stumbled a little in surprise. She walked off without a word, and after he finished hyperventilating, Foggy spent the next fifteen minutes crowing about the dumbstruck look on her face. All in all it was a wonderful afternoon.

—

But Elektra didn’t give up. In fact, Foggy’s rejection only seemed to make her more determined. She appeared everywhere they went — parties, classes, study sessions. No matter how either of them told her off, she continued to crop up like a bad penny. And she... Adjusted. Slowly enough that it might seem natural to anyone who wasn’t as suspicious as Matt, she modulated her behavior around Foggy. Stopped with the horrible, saccharine attempts at seduction. Let herself be a little mean and rude, but with a softer, kinder layer underneath. Both were fake, in Matt’s expert opinion; a careful balancing act to make Elektra seem more genuine, more likable, and more like Matt. And the more he was around her, the more certain Matt became that he was the real target of her interest. She was working for the Hand, maybe, coming to check on him. Or their enemies. But either way, giving too much of a reaction would be dangerous — so Matt waited, and kept his thoughts to himself. Didn’t allow himself to respond to the way interest seeped into Foggy’s tone around Elektra, or the way she slowly and cautiously began to initiate physical contact. He tried to ignore the way Elektra subtly asked Foggy questions about him, or quietly egged him on whenever he mentioned Matt of his own accord — which was often. Matt let her gather information. She’d confront him on her own as soon as she thought she had what she needed.

—

And so she did. A month and a half after changing her strategy, once Foggy had absorbed her into their friend group against Matt’s advice, she followed Matt to Fogwell’s. He let her, because the sneaking around was frankly beginning to annoy him.

“At last,” he mused lightly, whirling around in time to catch her wrist before the blade in her hand could press against his throat, “your true colors are revealed.”

“Ooh. Very nice reflexes, Matthew.”

Matt squeezed her wrist until her weapon clattered to the floor.

“Why thank you. I think it’s time we talk, don’t you?”

Elektra lashed out with her leg, and Matt had to release her. She had the sense to keep her distance afterwards, instead of pressing the attack. Matt took the time to pick up his cane.

“Hmmm, and what should we talk about, I wonder? Me? Or is the anger in your voice about Franklin?”

Matt’s hands clenched tighter around his cane. He had about eleven different things he wanted to spit at her, but for the moment he kept his peace.

“You look like a wet cat, Matthew,” she continued to needle. “Have I struck a nerve?”

“I’m warning you,” Matt told her. “I don’t take kindly to people meddling in my affairs. I can appreciate subterfuge as much as the next person, but the jig is up, as they say. I might not know why, or who, but I know someone sent you here for me. You might as well come clean.”

Elektra just laughed her pretty, irritating little rich girl laugh.

“Oh my, you really are a piece of work, aren’t you? When they told me you were Stick’s apprentice once upon a time, I really didn’t expect... This.”

Hearing Stick’s name rankled Matt worse than her mocking about Foggy.

“Who sent you?” he demanded.

Elektra laughed.

“You couldn’t guess? The Chaste did. And it only took me a second to pick out your ridiculous little friend as the weak link. At first I thought I’d just use him to get access to you,” she mused, “but now? Now I’m having fun watching you squirm. I’m going to do everything I can to take your little boytoy away from you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Matt smiled in a way he knew frightened people, and flicked the blade in his cane up out of its sheath an inch or two.

“Au contraire, Miss Natchios,” he said. “I could kill you.”

“But you won’t, Matthew.”

She sounded very sure. More sure than Matt was.

“And why is that?” he asked her.

“Because right now a living Chaste agent is more useful to you than a dead one. You’re like me, Matthew. You get terribly bored by all this.” There was a swish of air as she waved her hand around as if to encompass the world. “Isn’t it nice to not have to pretend with someone? And besides... If you kill me here, you’ll have no way to figure out what my side is really up to.”

She had a point. Matt was still more curious than annoyed, if just barely so. And if the Chaste was going to attempt to increase their presence in the city it would behoove him to know about it as soon as possible. Damn.

“Just don’t push your luck,” Matt snapped.

When Elektra replied, he could all but hear the grin in her voice.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

And so, despite the modicum of sense that told Matt he should just slit Elektra’s throat and be done with it, their game of cat and mouse continued. They picked fights with one another more openly, more frequently. Matt could tell Elektra enjoyed it, and... Maybe he enjoyed it too. As much as he didn’t like to admit it, there was something new and interesting about living this mundane life alongside someone with the same dark secrets as him.

But that didn’t mean she let up on her determination to take Foggy from him. Every day, despite all the sense he spoke to his roommate when they were alone, Matt lost ground with Foggy to Elektra. But he knew the more emotion he let her see, the further she’d push the envelope. He had to stay placid. Detached. Cold and calculating and unfeeling.

—

Despite Matt’s intention to stay calm, he very nearly flew off the handle the afternoon he returned to the dorm and caught them kissing. Not his finest moment. Foggy, peacekeeper that he was, asked Elektra to give him and Matt some time to talk. She agreed, smacked a particularly loud peck against Foggy’s cheek for Matt’s benefit, and flounced off smugly. There were a few minutes of silence as Foggy gathered what he wanted to say, and Matt spent them seething.

“You’re still my best friend, you know,” Foggy said at last. “Me and Elektra, that doesn’t change this.”

“She’s not a good person, Foggy,” insisted Matt, and he couldn’t quite hold back the frustration bubbling through his veins that the one time he was telling the truth Foggy wouldn’t believe him.

“I know it seems like that, Matt, but Elektra and I talked and I think we were wrong about her. I... I think maybe she really does like me,” Foggy offered, and his voice went so hopeful and shy that Matt had to dig his nails into his palms to keep from grabbing the laptop off his desk and shattering it against the wall.

His patience had worn out. Something had to be done about Elektra, he vowed. Soon.

—

It was like she knew what he was planning. It took another month to corner her. By then, Foggy had fallen for her con hook, line, and sinker and Matt’s frayed nerves were beginning to take a slight but unacceptable toll on his schoolwork. Foggy had also dragged Matt out shopping to buy a silk scarf to gift to Elektra; crimson, Foggy had explained, because a flashy, beautiful color like that suited her. Never mind that she had enough money to buy anything her heart desired— Foggy was in love. Matt was torn between wanting to puke and wanting to shatter something.

This time, he was the one to follow her to Fogwell’s. It was past two in the morning, and she moved slow enough that he never lost her even though he deigned not to take to the rooftops for speed. Which made it feel like a trap, but Matt could tell they were alone, and Fogwell’s was his home turf so he had the advantage anyway.

She knew he had followed her, so he didn’t bother to sneak up on her or offer a greeting.

“Why now?” he asked instead, a little curious despite himself.

“I figured I really should work on my actual mission at some point,” Elektra said. “And you seemed like you were reaching a breaking point.”

“Ah,” Matt said. “So now we fight to the death, is that it?”

Elektra took two slow steps to the right, and Matt turned his body to follow the sound.

“We don’t have to, you know,” she told him, and sounded almost soft. “They asked me to bring you back to us if I could. You could be one of us, Matthew. Walk away from this ridiculous act. Walk away from the Hand.”

Which was senseless on its face. Matt had everything he needed. Power, control. A good life. The Chaste and the Hand were two sides of the same coin — Elektra’s people wouldn’t be able to give him anything new. Stick had been one of their best and the Hand had cut him down like an animal. No, Matt was satisfied where he was. On the winning side. Switching allegiances would buy him nothing but new masters to learn to accommodate.

“I’m happy where I’m at, thank you,” he said with as much amusement as he could muster when the words tasted like ash in his mouth.

“Liar,” Elektra retorted.

But Matt ignored her to slip off his shoes and socks. It was more pleasant to fight that way, when he could feel every vibration and movement running up through the soles of his feet. And it reminded him of the dojos in Japan, one of the few pleasant sensory memories in Matt’s life. He could almost smell the tatami if he tried. And taste the blood in his mouth. Those were the things on his mind when he and Elektra began to fight.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” she told him as they traded blows, a breathless admission. “To see you really let loose. You could do this all the time if you joined us.”

She was still at it, still trying to get him to shift his allegiance. Well, two could play at that game.

“You think we’re so alike,” Matt said, grinning as he hit his stride, as the fight moved into something closer to a dance. “And we are. But that goes both ways, Elektra. There’s a darkness in you that all the Chaste’s sanctimonious brainwashing can’t stamp out. You’re not better than me. You’re not more righteous than me. We’re both just killers.”

And with those words, Matt was exactly where he wanted to be. By the switches whose placement he’d had memorized since a time when he could still see them. He hit the lights, and they flicked out with a crack of electricity. Then there was nothing but himself and Elektra, together in the darkness. No ambient buzz to cover the way Elektra’s heart began to pound, the way her breaths shortened, the silken swish of her hair as she tried in vain to spot him among the shadows.

It took just a little too long for her eyes to adjust, and Matt took ruthless advantage. To Elektra’s credit, she did manage a cut to his arm — with a thin blade, a sai, maybe, from the way she flipped it in her hand. But it wasn’t enough. It took Matt just minutes to knock her weapons away and pin her to the floor with his foot on her neck.

“I’ll make you a deal, Elektra Natchios,” he said, grinding his heel harder against her throat. “I’ll let you live — in fact, I’m such a swell guy I won’t even tell the Hand you were ever here. And in exchange, you’re going to take your talons out of Nelson.”

Point made, Matt removed his foot to let Elektra speak.

“How do you mean?” she rasped, and wisely didn’t try to attack him again.

Matt grinned.

“I’m glad you asked. You’re going to break things off with him. You’re going to make him hate you — so much that once you’re gone he won’t think of you again.”

Matt was going to keep Foggy around for the foreseeable future — and he didn’t want to hear about Elektra during any of it.

“Why do you want him so badly, Matthew?” she spat. “What’s so special about him? At least tell me that much.”

Matt shrugged, still smiling a shark’s smile.

“I have plans for him. That’s all you need to know. Now, do we have a deal?”

He held out a hand. Elektra shook it.

—

Matt listened, head tipped back against the wall of the dorm building, while two storeys above Elektra broke Foggy’s heart. It wasn’t as satisfying as he’d thought it would be. She was flat and cold and didn’t flinch, and Matt could hear every pathetic sniffle Foggy tried to hide. She finished with a particularly uncalled-for comment about Foggy’s weight, and slammed the door on her way out. Matt tilted his head to focus on the click of Elektra’s heels on the stairs, but kept getting distracted by the salt smell of Foggy’s tears. A single drop of something wet streaked down Matt’s face and he scrubbed it away with the heel of his palm, irritated. It hadn’t rained since morning, why the hell were the trees still dripping rainwater?

He set the thought aside as the door to the building opened and Elektra stepped out.

“Satisfied?” she asked over her shoulder, not even pausing as she strode away into the night.

“Immensely,” Matt replied. “But I’d be out of the city before sunrise, if I were you. Just to be safe.”

Elektra’s pace didn’t quicken, and neither did her heartbeat, but Matt thought they understood one another. It was only a few minutes until she was out of range of his perception. Once she was well and truly gone, Matt took a slow loop around the outside of the dorm building, whistling to himself, before he made his way back to his and Foggy’s room. He knocked lightly at the door before letting himself in.

“Hey, Matt,” Foggy greeted, trying and failing to sound cheerful. “Welcome home, buddy.”

He was sitting on his bed, rubbing fabric between his hands. Silk. The scarf he’d bought for Elektra, the gift he was going to give her. Matt wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved she hadn’t taken it.

“What...” Matt’s throat went suddenly and horribly tight; he had to swallow a few times before he could speak again. “Did something happen? What’s wrong?”

It was Foggy’s turn to clear his throat.

“Uh. Elektra—” His voice cracked. “Um. She broke up with me. I... I guess, um. She really was dating me because of Rosalind but... She, uh, got. Got sick of me.”

The smell of salt thickened in the air again, and there was a sudden, sharp pain in the area of Matt’s heart. He rubbed his chest idly.

“Foggy, I’m sorry.”

He received a bitter laugh in response.

“No, Matt, this isn’t... You tried to warn me. I should have trusted you.” Foggy sighed, letting the silk scarf slip through his fingers; it hit the floor with a near-silent swish. “You know, I just thought... I thought maybe somebody out there really did want me for me. Guess I won’t make that mistake again.”

Elektra had been entirely too much trouble, but in the end she’d broken first. And that had pushed Foggy further into Matt’s clutches. All was well that ended well. The more implicitly Foggy trusted Matt’s judgment, the easier he’d be to manipulate.

And yet, as Matt sat down next to Foggy and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, his stomach churned with nausea. It was the perfect moment to say something endearing and manipulative — you’ll always have me, Matt thought firmly, say you’ll always have me. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead he just sat there, uselessly, and let Foggy collect the pieces of his broken heart himself.

[danyka-fendyr]

Eight

Alright everyone, so this is just a little thing I made for @dreamwritesimagines writer’s block challenge. Because she is an absolute love, she let me write it about Matt Murdock rather than, say, literally any of the characters I was really supposed to write it about. I named it Eight because recently I’ve been getting a little into enneagrams because Sleeping at Last released an amazing album about them and I feel like Matt would be an 8. So many of the lyrics on track 8 describe Matt to me. It’s a bit short, but that’s because I still have homework to do, lol. I hope you guys like it! Dream was kind enough to let me use the prompts, “We’re not together, we’re bros- I’m gonna be his best woman at his wedding. “ and “You? You’re my superhero crush?” I love her brain, and I love her stories, so I feel very lucky to get to make this. Thanks so much Dream!

Warnings: None because for once in my life I’m not murdering anybody. Really just some pg-13 action type stuff.

Wordcount: 1864

I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart And all I want is to trust you Show me how to lay my sword down For long enough to let you through

-Sleeping at Last, Eight

Matt Murdock was undoubtedly a complicated man in every sense of the word. He usually looked like he had fallen asleep in an iron maiden, and not the band, he left at the most inconvenient times, and he slept with more women than one could reasonably count on both hands.

You were very unsure why you were friends with him. Frankly, it seemed like a terrible idea. You were definitely not the kind of person who found yourself friends with an insane person.

“I would disagree with that.” Matt interrupted you.

“Hey! I was trying to inner monologue.”

“Yeah, well, you were outer monologuing.”

“Not the first time.” You sighed, leaning forward on his couch to touch your toes.

“I can’t see what you’re doing but I can tell it’s dumb.”

“You’re so mean to me.” 

In spite of that, you sat back up, rolling over to lay your head in his lap. Matt didn’t have to think before sinking his hands into your hair, playing with it. You sighed, closing your eyes against the glow of the neon lights swimming across the walls of his otherwise dark apartment.

“You really have the worst view, you know that?”

You could hear Matt smile. “That’s not what you said the first time you saw it. You called it, ‘enchantingly urban,’ as I recall.”

“That was for your benefit. It’s crap.” You opened your eyes again so you could glare at him accusingly. 

“If it’s so bad then why do you crash on my couch so often?”

“Because my roommate, though I love her dearly, snores like Mr. Snuffleupagus if he was dying.”

“Big Bird’s got a gun,” Matt sing-songed.

“Was that even a thing when you were in school or is this just another result of the creepy amount of time you spend with children.”

“A. It is not creepy. I just happen to do a lot of pro bono work, and children just happen to usually be broke. B. I think you’re just asking that question because you’re trying to avoid the elephant in the room.”

“Wait, there’s an elephant in the room?” You sat up. “Matt, I think you’re seeing things. Oh wait...”

“That is really not as clever as you think it is.”

“Oh no, it is. And you love it.”

“Alright, you’ve got me there.”

“Seriously though. Is there an elephant in the room I just don’t know about? Because as far as I’m concerned we’re peachy.” You tucked your feet up under yourself, the material of Matt’s couch digging into your skin.

“The fact that you’ve been here, sleeping on my couch, almost every night this week.”

You frowned. “I thought you said you liked having me around.”

“I do. But having you around this much sometimes interferes with my...social life.”

“Oh, ew! Too much information, Matthew!” You recoiled, putting your hands over your ears.

You and Matt had been friends for roughly forever. Okay, so it hadn’t been that long. It had been a few years though. In the timeline of Significant Matt Life Events, you had met him pre-Karen Paige, post-Foggy Nelson. It had been a match made in heaven when you accidentally walked into him and he, with all the snark in the world, had asked you how you had managed to bump into him even though he was the blind one. He thought he was funny, but you weren’t as amused. Foggy asked you for your phone number, one bad date lead to a great friendship, and the rest was history.

“The elephant in the room is Foggy’s new girlfriend.”

“Um...I think she might take offense to that, Matt. Like, a lot of offense.”

If he looked about 2 inches to his left he would be glaring right at you.

“No seriously. I don’t get what you’re trying to get at here, Matty.”

“What I’m trying to say is that Foggy hasn’t dated anyone since you. I was just wondering...how you felt about that.”

It was at this point in time that you started dying laughing. It wasn’t really that funny, but in a way, it was. You? Heartbroken over Foggy Nelson, a man you had gone on one date with once, years ago? Unlikely. You said as much.

“Okay.” Matt sounded oddly relieved. “I just wanted to make sure. They asked us to dinner tomorrow night, but I was prepared to make excuses for you.”

“Ooooh, dinner? Sounds perfect!” You gave Matt your toothiest smile, even though he couldn’t see it.

“I’m not paying for you.”

You punched him in the arm. “Meanie.”

Dinner with Matt and Foggy’s new girlfriend was an interesting affair. Not because Foggy’s new girlfriend wasn’t nice. She was! She just also mistakenly assumed you were on a double date. You weren’t!

“So, Matt,” she started, taking a sip of her drink. “Enough about Foggy and I. How long have you and Y/N been dating?”

Matt looked more surprised than he probably should have given that they had been asked this question a few times.

 “Us? Dating. No.” Matt laughed. “I think you misunderstood. Y/N and I are just friends.”

“Yeah. We’re not together, we’re bros- I’m gonna be his best woman at his wedding. “

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You two just seemed so comfortable with each other, and...” She glanced down to where Matt’s jacket lay over your shoulders, your fingers intertwined over the table from where you sat on the opposite side of the booth in the cozy little Italian restaurant you knew was run by one of Matt’s old clients.

Now, listen. You know what it looked like. But there was a very simple explanation for all of this. You had gotten cold outside, Matt was a gentleman, your hands were also cold by proxy, you liked hand-holding, you liked Matt- Okay. So you liked Matt. Was that a crime?

That being said, it was none of anybody’s business.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Truth is, I’m already taken,” you said.

“Oh?” She seemed very surprised by that.

“Yeah. Daredevil has my heart. I love me a vigilante with a good butt.”

Foggy snorted. He was always very very amused by your innocent crush on Daredevil. You could never tell why, but you just assumed it was because he had a great sense of humor, even though he was rarely so entertained by your other jokes.

“You could say he’s a handsome devil,” Foggy chimed in.

“Ha! That’s a good one.” You grinned.

The night carried on in much the same way, though Foggy’s date seemed a little perplexed by the dynamic between you and Matt. You were pretty sure that at some point she went back to assuming you two were dating just because it was easier for her to handle. You couldn’t blame the poor girl. Even you got confused sometimes by the fact that you were not-dating Matthew Murdock. Matt liked to keep things confusing.

By the time you stumbled back to Matt’s apartment, you could barely keep your eyes open. You were a night owl, admittedly, but a night out on the town always left you feeling drained. Accordingly, Matt agreed to let you stay on his couch again. You could have loved him for that alone.

“Matt?” Your voice was quiet, hesitant as his keys jangled in the lock.

“Yes?” He opened the door, leading the two of you inside.

There is silence for a moment as you two shuffle your way inside, Matt’s cane tapping against the floor out of reflex. Your hands are still intertwined, and you don’t know how to say what you want to say next. You’re not even sure if you should say it.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Is something wrong?”

You take a shaky breath, stepping away from him and letting go of his hand. You can’t look at him right now, but that doesn’t really matter since he can’t tell the difference. You stare out his window instead, watching the neon signs buzz into the night.

“What would you say...if I told you I was a little bit in love with you?”

He doesn’t say anything, which in your mind is answer enough. Contrary to popular belief, you can actually take a hint. The message from Matt is loud and clear, ironic given all the silence surrounding you.

“I would say I’m glad I’m not the only one because I’m a little bit in love with you too.”

“You are?” You pivot to face him, eyes wide.

“Yes. I never wanted to say anything though, because I always thought you were still a little hung up over Foggy and...I don’t know. I date a lot of women and I didn’t want you to think you were just some passing phase or a replacement for someone or anything like that. I guess I just-”

You cut him off. You know it’s rude, but you can’t yourself. With greedy hands, you grab his face and press his mouth to your own.

Kissing Matt is a very physical experience. With him being blind, it’s like he’s trying to soak up as much of you as he can. Matt has all the prowess kissing you you would expect from a man with his experience, and it takes your breath away. His mouth moves against your own with an intensity you couldn’t have predicted, one hand tangling in your head. You feel his cane fall to the floor when the other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, skin on skin.

When you pull away, you can barely breathe, barely think. It is a rush to kiss Matt, and suddenly you have an idea of how he gets women into bed with him so easy. You would probably do anything he asked you to right now.

“I...If we’re going to do this, I have to tell you something,” he said.

“Yes. Anything.” Your eyes are still a little glassy.

“I’m the Daredevil.” He says it all in one go, spits it right out like he’s ripping off a band-aid.

There is a beat.

“You’re the what now?”

“I’m the-”

“No I heard you.” You pull yourself out of his arms, taking a step back in surprise. “You....You? You’re my superhero crush?”

“Yeah...sorry about that. I would have told you sooner, but I was afraid you would get hurt if you knew, but if we’re going to do this for real you have to know. I don’t want someone coming after you and having you be unprepared and-”

“Oh my gosh is that why Foggy thought all of my Daredevil comments were so funny?” You screeched.

“Yes, probably, but I don’t think you’re listening to me right now-”

“I can’t believe this! I just totally made out with my superhero crush. You felt me up!”

Matt sighed. At a certain point, he always realized he was never going to get through to you.

“Want to do it again?” He offered.

“Heck yeah!”

So you did. And that’s the story of how you somehow ended up dating your superhero crush. Who knew? Dreams really do come true.

[giftofshewbread]

Apostate

: By Candy Austin  

Published on:June 26, 2020

Hebrews 3:12 “Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God.”

In recent years, several high-profile Christians have chosen to turn their collective backs on God and walk away from the Faith. Famous Christians such as Musicians. Leaders, Authors, and Pastors, some even losing their faith to the point of committing suicide. This is nothing more than an ‘utter tragedy’ to say the least!

From CBN news: ‘Losing My Religion:’ What We Can Learn from Celebrity Christians Who Walk Away from the Faith

20 years ago, Harris’ book on Christians and dating became a best seller, and Harris became an instant Christian celebrity when he was only 21 years old. Harris served as lead pastor at a Maryland megachurch from 2004 to 2015.

He now renounces his earlier teachings on purity, saying they “contributed to a culture of exclusion and bigotry.” Harris has also apologized to the LGBT community for ways his “writing and speaking contributed to a culture of exclusion and bigotry.” He recently took part in a gay pride festival in Vancouver, British Columbia.

Last month Harris revealed in an Instagram post that he has left Christianity altogether. “I have undergone a massive shift in regard to my faith in Jesus,” he wrote. “By all measurements that I have for defining a Christian, I am not a Christian.”

Marty Sampson who wrote music for Australia’s Hillsong ministry years ago also recently posted doubts about the Christian faith on issues such as hell and suffering, saying, “I am genuinely losing my faith, and it doesn’t bother me.” – Source

From CBN News: Beloved Pastor, Mental Health Advocate Tragically Takes His Own Life

Jarrid Wilson, author, pastor, and founder of Anthem of Hope, tragically took his life Monday night, on the eve of World Suicide Prevention Day. – Source

From CBN News: Christian Singer Announces, ‘I no longer believe in God’: How You Can Experience Jesus More Personally Than Ever Before

Jon Steingard is a pastor’s son and a musician, singer, and songwriter. He has been the lead singer for the Christian band Hawk Nelson since March 2012.

Now he has made an Instagram announcement that is generating headlines: “After growing up in a Christian home, being a pastor’s kid, playing and singing in a Christian band, and having the word ‘Christian’ in front of most of the things in my life—I am now finding that I no longer believe in God.” –Source

To be honest, I have a hard time understanding how people who once supposedly lived their lives with and for God all of a sudden decide one day that they do not believe in Him anymore. How does one sing songs, preach, or write books for years at a time and supposedly for God’s Glory, all of a sudden do ‘an about face’ on Him?

All the while, some had made a considerable amount of money from their ‘supposed Faith’ which, in the end, when they decided to walk away, makes it seem that the whole time they were just faking it and ‘making merchandise of Him.’

Such is the case with our Prodigal daughters who will be 27 and 22 this year. These are grown women who still post rants for all to see, mind you, on their social media pages. Rants stating their ‘ungrateful dissatisfaction’ on their upbringing. Lamenting their lack in getting to ‘be their true selves’ because of the restrictions of living in a Christian home.

During their time as children, as I have stated in previous articles, we were in no way as strong in the Lord as we are now. Basically, we were like a lot of Secular Christian Families nowadays who still live like the world. Our girls were raised in church but were in no way made to attend every time the church doors were open. We taught them about Jesus, but we probably only read the Bible on occasion, at best.

Anyhow, nothing was ‘force fed’ or anything like they would have their social media friends believe. Once they became teenagers, our family did start to grow more in the Lord. Our girls seemed to enjoy attending Youth Camps and even wanted to do ‘Mission Work’ when the opportunity arose. They each had their own Bible and seemed to have their own genuine relationships with the Lord until they each fell in love with an atheist.

In recent years, though, as it seems by their posts, our raising them to know and love the Lord and to follow His Word apparently became ‘toxic’ to them. How dare we not allow them to be their own person as a child, with no restraints, and to ‘Do as thou wilt’!  How ‘unhealthy’ we were to want them to do things God’s way! By pointing them to God’s Word, that meant that we were somehow silencing their voice?! What kind of lousy parenting is that?!

All of a sudden it was a ‘detriment’ for them to grow up in a God-fearing home! Look at how much they missed out on by not getting to sin like everyone else! Wait… now that they have ‘apostatized’ and are ‘finally free’ from all of our Christianly toxicity, everyone on their social media needs to know that they have ‘triumphantly walked away’ from all godly hinderances!

Now they can ‘pursue their heart’s desire’ to the fullest extent, by having premarital sex every night, march in any number of gay pride and abortion parades, get drunk several times a week, smoke all the hookah pipes and weed as often as they like, indulge in all the secular movies, concerts, and music, and any other ‘ungodly pursuits’ they may have! Yay!

Whoo hoo! Now all of their social media friends can ‘cyber pat them on the back’ for they are ‘Free at Last, Free at Last; now they can Thank their Father the Devil that they are Free at Last! Being a Christian was such a burden! Mom and Dad who are total ‘Southern Baptist Bigots’ and their ‘quack’ Rapture beliefs can stuff it! We are Women now, and we are gonna do as we darn well please!’ (Tongues audaciously sticking out and devil-horn hand signs galore!)

Yawn… ‘pinky clap’ on their newfound independence as they ‘defiantly and proudly’ march down the wide road to destruction. Whoo hoo. Yay. We are so happy for you. Not.

‘Deeply saddened and frustrated’ does not even begin to describe where we are at in seeing all of this play out in our Prodigal adult children. The truth is, in these Last Days, we feel ‘utterly defeated.’ The enemy has robbed us of so much and keeps on doing so, no matter what! We cannot win for losing.

No matter what we do, we are perpetually viewed as the ‘bad guys.’ We could give all our love, approval, support, time, money, help, and gifts to them and still somehow we would be deemed as ‘the toxic Christian parents.’ Ultimately, we are despised and rejected, year after year; and, frankly, there is not much we can do about it… except Pray.

From Got Questions: Will there be a great apostasy during the end times?

The Bible indicates that there will be a great apostasy during the end times. The “great apostasy” is mentioned in 2 Thessalonians 2:3. The KJV calls it the “falling away,” while the NIV and ESV call it “the rebellion.” And that’s what an apostasy is: a rebellion, an abandonment of the truth. The end times will include a wholesale rejection of God’s revelation, a further “falling away” of an already fallen world.

The Greek word translated “rebellion” or “falling away” in verse 3 is apostasia, from which we get the English word apostasy. It refers to a general defection from the true God, the Bible, and the Christian faith. Every age has its defectors, but the falling away at the end times will be complete and worldwide. The whole planet will be in rebellion against God and His Christ. Every coup requires a leader, and into this global apostasy will step the Antichrist. We believe this takes place after the church has been raptured from the earth.

Jesus warned the disciples concerning the final days in Matthew 24:10–12: “At that time many will turn away from the faith and will betray and hate each other, and many false prophets will appear and deceive many people. Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold.” These are the characteristics of the great apostasy of the end times. – Source

Bottom line, Jesus tells us to love our enemies, do good unto them, and pray for those who despitefully use and persecute us. We need to also pray for all the high-profile Christians who have walked away from the Lord in recent years.

Pray that the god of this world would be hindered or stopped from blinding the minds of those who are perishing! That God would grant them and all our Prodigals salvation before it is too late! For Apostates and Prodigal sons and daughters to come to their senses and come back home to God the Father, sooner rather than later!

Time. Is. Ultimately. Running. Out.

Until next time… Maranatha!

(JESUS = THE WAY, THE TRUTH, & THE LIFE)

Candy Austin

*My 2cents worth here, as the Tumblr Author of this page, (giftofshewbread) I just wanted to say, I myself, love the lord, but it’s been a hell of a battle with the flesh & spirit, to become a follower of Christ, it’s the greatest journey you’ll ever endure & it’s truly a battle within, like they say, ‘The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,’ and it certainly is.  God help us all, I myself wrestle a lot in these past few years, it’s not been easy and I’ve called out God and I’ve been furious with Him and not trying to come from a selfish part of me, just one that is very battle weary and people have become so ugly/cruel/wicked and in my situation, it’s been extra hard because of being alone, not much for fellowship, just thru internet and it’s very meager and so, it’s been a very lonely journey, oh I know the Lord is with us, but yet, we are human and so much to learn, it can just sure be a solo feeling and hard time of it.  Well anyways, holding on, but Lord, Maranatha, Amen !

Leho Lechem 

[troubleintrump]

Open Letter:

To my Trump-supporting family,

On the morning of November 9, 2016, the America I knew and loved died.  Or rather, I woke that day to discover that it never really existed in the first place. 

Let me explain. 

I grew up in the Deep South.  I was a flag-waving, gun-shooting, red-blooded American boy.  I said the Pledge of Allegiance every morning in school, got tingles when I heard the national anthem, and fervently accepted that no other country on the planet could ever come close to the grandeur, freedom, and inspiration that the United States of America offered.  We were that City Upon the Hill that was promised to the world – a shining beacon of participatory democracy that everyone else desperately wanted to emulate but could never achieve.  We were tough on our allies, but only because we needed to push them to excel and improve.  Of course, they’d never quite catch up to us economically, politically, or militarily, but hey, that’s the price of not being the USA.  The chants of “USA! USA! USA” weren’t taunts, but merely celebrations of our preeminence.  And anyone’s detractions were just signs of their jealousy.  Because everybody wanted to be American, right?

I was sold the American dream just like the hundreds of millions of my compatriots.  Work hard, pay your dues, and you’ll succeed.  No child left behind.  All in this together.  Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.  I joined the Navy and proudly served my country because that’s just what a Southern boy did.  There simply was no higher honor than being part of the vanguard protecting democracy from those who would do us harm.

Even after traveling the world with the Navy and learning that, actually, America didn’t hold a monopoly on freedom, I still wasn’t swayed from my categorical resolution that no country was better. No people could be better.  America resulted from the failures and lessons learned from every other country’s trials and errors.  Mostly errors.  But we corrected them all.  Where other countries had endured the restrictions of authoritarianism or the unfettered chaos of direct democracy, America perfected the balance with our Constitution and its representative democracy.  Sure, we had our own fits-and-starts, which our schools taught – seizure of land and the treatment of Native Americans, the slave trade and oppression of black people, relegation of women to the home – but the America in which I grew up in the 1980s and 1990s had moved past those missteps.  Right?  Wasn’t America now that happy melting pot teeming with opportunity for all, if only you tried hard enough?

Of course not.  But that was how I viewed it.  And I’m sure that’s how you still think of America.  What we did to the Native Americans?  They just need to accept that we civilized them and they should be thankful.  Slavery, Jim Crow, systemic racism?  Nah, African Americans need to get over slavery, stop being ghetto thugs, and start accepting responsibility for their own communities.  And women certainly have come a long way – just don’t get too uppity or think you’re entitled to too much of a political view, otherwise you risk losing your innate genteelness.  (If reading this part makes you feel uncomfortable – and it probably does – stop for a second and think about why.  Your discomfort is what’s left of your conscience.)

After I left the Navy and joined the real world, I saw more and more of what this country truly was.  The mistreatment of people of color, the judgment and chastisement of the LGBT community, and the everyday sexism.  Unlike the America taught in schools, this place had a lot of scars, scratches, and quite a few gaping wounds.  But still I thought none of them were terminal.  Surely Bill Clinton (for all his flaws) had it right when he said there was nothing wrong with America that couldn’t be cured by what was right in America.  Surely.

Up until November 8, 2016, I genuinely believed that, despite its myriad shortcomings, America was still the country that stood up to bullies.  It valued intellect and scientific discovery.  Americans may have disagreed on specific policies, but still had faith that public servants genuinely had the country’s best interests at heart.  Immigration built this country.  And we should always, always protect the innocent and welcome those fleeing poverty, war, or famine with open arms.

But America didn’t elect a leader who represents any of those principles.  America didn’t elect a leader with any principles.  And you did that.  You can say you held your nose and voted for the “lesser of two evils,” or that you only voted for Trump because you knew he’d further the policies with which you agreed, even if you found him personally detestable.  But when you and all of the other Trump voters pulled that lever, you weren’t just selecting your preferred presidential candidate.  You were selecting what America was.  And it is nothing like the America I grew up believing in.  To say that your choice and the result it brought about triggered an existential crisis would be an understatement.  My whole life, I’d been an unquestioning, patriotic servant of America because of what I’d believed it stood for.  But in a single night, everything it stood for was revealed as a fraud.  Everything I stood for was a fraud.

So now, two and half years into the alternative reality, I’ve come to grips that this isn’t some insane nightmare.  This is reality.  And seeing how Trump supporters (yourselves included) have behaved since then, I really was a fool for ever believing America stood for anything else. 

I won’t bore you with my journey to “wokeness” or why the things you tolerate literally sicken me.  Sexual predator? “They’re not hot enough to sexually assault.” Racist bully?  “Fake news.”  Uncompassionate bigot?  “They should stay in their own damn countries.”  Even if I had the capacity and patience to expound on every deviation from the America I thought existed, you wouldn’t care.  Why?  Because you’ve stopped listening.  The rise of Fox News means you’ve stopped reading the papers.  And even if you did, you wouldn’t be intrigued or inquisitive about what they say because you’ve bought into the idea that the press is the enemy of the people (except for Fox News and the National Review, which get passes because, well, why?). 

You’ve stopped paying attention to anyone who doesn’t agree with your crystallized view of the world.  You’re the mosquito of the Reagan era, completely unaware the sap has long hardened around you into amber.  And frankly, it’s not even particularly pretty amber.  It’s dull, opaque, muffled.  You can’t see or hear through it and you don’t want to.

But to be honest with you, I’ve lost all interest in trying to break you free.  At first, I really wanted to.  I wanted you to understand how the promise of America was broken.  I wanted you to see so we could find some way to fix it.  But every time I tried, you trotted out some line you heard Trump spew (none of which make any sense whatsoever, by the way) or that some Fox News commentator has conned you into thinking reflects reality.  So I’m done.

The America I believed in doesn’t exist.  Instead, it’s a different country now, irretrievably.  I get a bit melancholy about it sometimes, because promise and hope and opportunity are like political endorphins, and I miss them.  And I miss you.  I miss having conversations about our lives as though you hadn’t abandoned everything we ever believed in.  I miss seeing your smiling faces without having to hold back a political tirade.  I miss spending time with you without constantly wondering how you sleep at night knowing what this country is doing to the defenseless.

Surely by now you’ve seen the AP’s recent photo of an El Salvadoran man and his two and a half year-old daughter who drowned as they fled the violence in their home country, hoping to seek asylum in America.  They drowned because Trump won’t let them claim asylum at the border entry points.  He’s denying them the safety and promise that America used to stand for.  Many observers who haven’t yet fully recognized their prior delusions are saying, “This isn’t what we stand for.”  But it is.  It’s exactly what America stands for.

And that is why I’m done with you and your ilk.  We’re still family; you raised me; we share the same blood.  But we come from and live in two different countries.

Sincerely,

Matthew

[claudia1829things]

"VANITY FAIR" (2004) Review

"VANITY FAIR" (2004) Review William Makepeace Thackery's 1848 novel about the life and travails of an ambitious young woman in early 19th century has generated many film and television adaptations. One of them turned out to be the 2004 movie that was directed by Mira Nair. 

"VANITY FAIR" covers the early adulthood of one Becky Sharp, the pretty and ambitious daughter of an English not-so-successful painter and a French dancer during the early years from 1802 to 1830. The movie covers Becky’s life during her impoverished childhood with her painter father, during her last day as a student at Miss Pinkerton’s Academy for Young Ladies, where she meets her only friend Amelia Sedley – the only daughter of a slightly wealthy gentleman and her years as a governess for the daughters of a crude, yet genial baronet named Sir Pitt Crawley. While working for the Crawleys, Becky meets and falls in love with Sir Pitt’s younger son, Captain Rawdon Crawley. When Sir Pitt proposes marriage to Becky, she shocks the family with news of her secret marriage to Rawdon. The couple is ostracized and ends up living in London on Rawdon’s military pay and gambling winnings. They also become reacquainted with Amelia Sedley, who has her own problems. When her father loses his fortune, the father of her beau, George Osborne, tries to arrange a marriage between him and a Jamaican heiress. Leery of the idea of marrying a woman of mixed blood, he marries Amelia behind Mr. Obsorne's back, and the latter disinherits him. Not long after George and Amelia's marriage, word reaches Britain of Napoleon's escape from Elba and control of France. Becky and Amelia follow Rawdon, George, and Dobbin, who are suddenly deployed to Brussels as part of the Duke of Wellington's army. And life for Becky and those close to her prove to be even more difficult. The first thing I noticed about "VANITY FAIR" was that it was one of the most beautiful looking movies I have ever seen in recent years. Beautiful and colorful. A part of me wonders if director Mira Nair was responsible for the movie's overall look. Some people might complain and describe the movie's look as garish. I would be the first to disagree. Despite its color - dominated by a rich and deep red that has always appealed to me - "VANITY FAIR" has also struck me as rather elegant looking film, thanks to cinematographer Declan Quinn. But he was not the only one responsible for the film's visual look. Maria Djurkovic's production designs and the work from the art direction team - Nick Palmer, Sam Stokes and Lucinda Thomson. All did an excellent job of not only creating what I believe to be one of the most colorful and elegant films I have ever seen, but also in re-creating early 19th century Britain, Belgium, Germany and India. But I do have a special place in my heart for Beatrix Aruna Pasztor's costume designs. I found them absolutely ravishing. Colorful . . . gorgeous. I am aware that many did not find them historically accurate. Pasztor put a bit more Hollywood into her designs than history. But I simply do not care. I love them. And to express this love, the following is a brief sample of her costumes worn by actress Reese Witherspoon:

I understand that Witherspoon was pregnant at the time and Pasztor had to accommodate the actress' pregnancy for her costumes. Judging from what I saw on the screen, I am beginning to believe that Witherspoon's pregnancy served her role in the story just fine. Now that I have raved over the movie's visual look and style, I might as well talk about the movie's adaptation. When I first heard about "VANITY FAIR", the word-of-mouth on the Web seemed to be pretty negative. Thackery's novel is a long one - written in twenty parts. Naturally, a movie with a running time of 141 minutes was not about to cover everything in the story. And I have never been one of those purists who believe that a movie or television adaptation had to be completely faithful to its source. Quite frankly, it is impossible for any movie or television miniseries to achieve. And so, it was not that surprising that the screenplay written by Julian Fellowes, Matthew Faulk and Mark Skeet would not prove to be an accurate adaptation. I expected that. However, there were some changes I could have done without. Becky Sharp has always been one of the most intriguing female characters in literary history. Among the traits that have made her fascinating were her ambitions, amorality, talent for manipulation and sharp tongue. As much as I enjoyed Reese Witherspoon's performance in the movie - and I really did - I thought it was a mistake for Fellowes, Faulk and Skeet to make Becky a more "likeable" personality in the movie's first half. One, it took a little bite not only out of the character, but from the story's satirical style, as well. And two, I found this change unnecessary, considering that literary fans have always liked the darker Becky anyway. Thankfully, this vanilla-style Becky Sharp disappeared in the movie's second half, as the three screenwriters returned to Thackery's sharper and darker portrayal of the character. I was also a little disappointed with the movie's sequence featuring Becky's stay at the Sedley home and her seduction of Amelia's older brother, Jos. I realize that as a movie adaptation, "VANITY FAIR" was not bound to be completely accurate as a story. But I was rather disappointed with the sequence featuring Becky's visit to the Sedley home at Russell Square in London. Perhaps it was just me, but I found that particular sequence somewhat rushed. I was also disappointed by Nair and producer Jannette Day's decision to delete the scene featuring Becky's final meeting with her estranged son, Rawdy Crawley. This is not out of some desire to see Robert Pattinson on the screen. Considering that the movie's second half did not hesitate to reveal Becky's lack of warmth toward her son, I felt that this last scene could have remained before she departed Europe for India with Jos. Despite my complaints and the negative view of the movie by moviegoers that demanded complete accuracy, I still enjoyed "VANITY FAIR" very much. Although I was a little disappointed in the movie's lighter portrayal of the Becky Sharp, I did enjoy some of the other changes. I had no problem with the addition of a scene from Becky's childhood in which she first meets Lord Steyne. I felt that this scene served as a strong and plausible omen of her future relationship with the aristocrat. Unlike others, I had no problems with Becky's fate in the end of the movie. I have always liked the character, regardless of her amoral personality. And for once, it was nice to see her have some kind of happy ending - even with the likes of the lovesick Jos Sedley. Otherwise, I felt that "VANITY FAIR" covered a good deal of Thackery's novel with a sense of humor and flair. I have always found it odd that most people seemed taken aback by an American in a British role more so than a Briton in an American role. After all, it really depends upon the individual actor or actress on whether he or she can handle a different accent. In the case of Reese Witherspoon, she used a passable British accent, even if it was not completely authentic. More importantly, not only did she give an excellent performance, despite the writers' changes in Becky's character, she was also excellent in the movie's second half, which revealed Becky's darker nature. Witherspoon was ably assisted with a first-rate cast. The movie featured fine performances from the likes of James Purefoy, Deborah Findlay, Tony Maudsley, Geraldine McEwan, Eileen Atkins, Douglas Hodge, Natasha Little (who portrayed Becky Sharp in the 1998 television adaptation of the novel), and especially Romola Garai and Jonathan Rhys-Meyers as Amelia Sedley and George Osborne. But I was especially impressed by a handful of performances that belonged to Bob Hoskins, Rhys Ifans and Gabriel Byrne. Bob Hoskins was a delight as the slightly crude and lovesick Sir Pitt Crawley. Rhys Ifans gave one of his most subtle performances as the upright and slightly self-righteous William Dobbins, who harbored a unrequited love for Amelia. Jim Broadbent gave an intense performance as George's ambitious and grasping father. And Gabriel Byrne was both subtle and cruel as the lustful and self-indulgent Marquis of Steyne. In the end, I have to say that I cannot share the negative opinions of "VANITY FAIR". I realize that it is not a "pure" adaptation of William Makepeace Thackery's novel or that it is perfect. But honestly, I do not care. Despite its flaws, "VANITY FAIR" proved to be a very entertaining movie for me. And I would have no problem watching it as much as possible in the future.