#like obviously in this passage he's still catholic

[maiathebee]

But living in community is saving Ammon.  He is learning not to give the ready answer to every problem, not to be surprised at criticism, at the nagging that goes with community life.  He is learning to recognize that all men have their various talents, physical, mental and spiritual. That the vocation of one is not the vocation of all.

Dorothy Day on her friend, at the time a fellow-Catholic Worker and always an activist, Ammon Hennacy, who later of a heart attack that came while picketing the Death Penalty in Salt Lake City.

[middle-earth-mythopoeia]

Yes, there are gay characters in Tolkien’s books

There seems to be an entrenched view among Tolkien fans that Tolkien did not write any gay characters, and that by interpreting any of his characters as gay you are going against what he would have wanted. Homophobes obviously believe this very strongly, and have always been hostile towards queer fans and queer interpretations of Tolkien’s works. Many members of the LGBTQ community also believe that they’re contradicting canon when they interpret Tolkien’s characters as gay—the only difference is they don’t mind doing so.

But is it so against canon to interpret any of Tolkien’s characters as gay? The assumption that Tolkien did not write gay characters hinges on his Catholicism, but I’m going to explain why this is flimsy reasoning.

First, it should be noted that Tolkien didn’t leave any writings expressing his views on homosexuality, so there is no evidence one way or another. But it seems relevant that Tolkien was good friends with W.H. Auden and corresponded with him over multiple decades. They first met when Auden listened to one of Tolkien’s lectures at Oxford and was inspired to learn Anglo-Saxon. Auden loved Tolkien’s poetry and prose and defended LOTR from critics at a time when it was seen as an unserious work in an unserious genre. Did Tolkien know Auden was gay? We don’t know for sure. But there’s at least a chance that he did: the secret of Auden’s homosexuality is one he “loosely kept”, according to an article in the Guardian.

So, Tolkien was friends with a gay man whom he may or may not have known was gay. But are there gay characters in Tolkien’s books? Unfortunately for the homophobes, even if you believe that Tolkien opposed homosexuality on principle, that still doesn’t mean no one in Middle-earth is gay. Actually, no one in Middle-earth is Catholic. I mean that literally, in the sense that Catholicism does not exist in the time period Tolkien wrote about, but I also mean it in the sense that Tolkien’s characters need not adhere to the tenets of his religion, even if it’s not named. Why would they?

It shouldn’t be controversial or surprising to point out that writers can, and often do, write characters that live very different lives from their own. Needless to say, Tolkien didn’t condone the actions of the antagonists of his work, but what about the protagonists? Are we to believe that all of them act in an unfailingly Catholic way at all times? In Laws and Customs of the Eldar, it is strongly implied that (especially in their younger years) Elves do have sex for pleasure and not just to beget children, something that is discouraged by Catholicism. That’s just one example.

(Please note that I’m not arguing that Tolkien’s Catholicism had no influence on his writings, because he explicitly said that it did. I’m saying that Tolkien’s characters themselves are not Catholic and do not necessarily behave like Catholics. So even if you think that all Catholics believe homosexuality is wrong, it has no bearing on Tolkien’s stories.)

Another line of reasoning goes that homosexuality is too taboo for Tolkien—but I have to wonder if people who believe this have read his books at all. The Silmarillion is full of taboo subjects. Túrin and Niënor marry, not knowing they are brother and sister; they find out the truth, and that she is pregnant, and they both commit suicide. Eöl’s relationship with Aredhel is one that, even if it didn’t start out as controlling and abusive—although I suspect it did—it clearly ended up that way, and depending on your interpretation of the text, he may have raped her. Celegorm attempts to force Lúthien to marry him, which would also involve rape, and there is a passage that implies that Morgoth also intends to rape Lúthien. Neither incest, rape or abuse are too taboo for Tolkien—neither are suicide, torture or mass murder, as the rest of the Silmarillion shows.

I don’t want anyone to take this in bad faith: I’m not saying that being gay is comparable to incest, rape or abuse, and I’m part of the LGBTQ community myself. What I am saying is that Tolkien clearly did not shy away from certain subjects, including sexual taboos, simply because they’re taboo. If you’re going to argue that none of Tolkien’s characters are queer because it wasn’t accepted at the time, that’s very unconvincing given the other subject matter in his books.

There is another reason why I think there are gay characters in Middle-earth, and it has to do with Tolkien’s inspirations. It’s well understood by Tolkien fans that you can see echoes of other mythologies in Tolkien’s works. But which ones? When Lúthien brings Beren back from the Halls of Mandos, there are obvious parallels with the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice—though the genders are reversed, and Lúthien succeeds where Orpheus did not. There are parallels between Túrin and Kullervo. There are numerous examples of this kind of thing throughout the Silmarillion and LOTR. Even the name Middle-earth clearly has its roots in the Norse name Midgard. There are some influences that Tolkien explicitly acknowledged, like the Kalevala and the Völuspá, and some that Tolkien scholars have only theorized about. While there are some scholarly articles on Tolkien and the Aeneid, one thing I have never seen anyone discuss is the parallel between Beleg’s death and the story of Nisus and Euryalus.

In the Aeneid, Nisus and Euryalus are a pair of friends and lovers who are fighting for Aeneas in Latium. Nisus, the older of the two men, is said to be a skilled javelin-thrower and archer. Nisus proposes a night raid on an enemy camp, and Euryalus insists on going with him. During the raid they kill many men in their sleep, collecting some of their armor as loot, as was customary. But when they leave the camp, the glint of light on a helmet taken by Euryalus is seen by a group of enemy horsemen, who capture and kill him before Nisus can stop them. Nisus is distraught and kills many of them in retaliation, ultimately dying beside his lover’s body. (In some versions, it’s a stolen belt, not a helm—but the constant motif is the glint of light that reveals Euryalus to the enemy.)

There are so many similarities with Beleg and Túrin that it cannot be a coincidence. Beleg and Túrin also fight side by side, first on the marches of Doriath and later when Túrin is an outlaw. They are very loyal to each other, and clearly love each other. Like Nisus, Beleg is known to be a great archer. Meanwhile, although it does not feature in Beleg’s death scene, Túrin is associated with a particularly significant helm. There are differences too: Túrin’s captivity is the reason for Beleg’s raid on the Orc-camp, whereas Euryalus is captured after the raid; both Nisus and Euryalus are slain one after the other, whereas only Beleg dies in the raid on the Orc-camp. But there is still the overarching parallel of the night raid, in which the enemy guards are killed silently in their sleep; the raid’s connection with an attempted rescue; the chance moment that leads to the tragic death; the imagery of the flash of light; and the distraught reaction of Nisus and Túrin when they see that Euryalus and Beleg are dead. Tolkien read the Aeneid as a student and so would have been familiar with its contents.

There is also the fact that in some versions of the story Túrin kisses Beleg on the mouth in this scene. Although kissing someone on the mouth has not always been a romantic gesture in all cultures and time periods, the clear parallels to the scene in the Aeneid lead me to think that it is in this case. Whether you see the relationship between Túrin and Beleg as romantic is up to you—all that I’m trying to do is show that it’s a legitimate interpretation.

Ultimately, like I wrote here, I don’t think you need permission from anyone in order to interpret Tolkien’s stories the way you want to. If you want to interpret one of his characters as gay, you don’t need to cite obscure plotlines from the Aeneid to justify it. But I do take issue with the idea—which is so pervasive in the fandom—that Tolkien’s stories must not have gay, or bisexual, or trans people in them, and that any interpretations to that effect are against canon. At the end of the day, Middle-earth is supposed to be our world, and guess what? Queer people exist.

[slowroadtosantiago]

Day 32 - Foncebadon to Molinaseca

Well, we’re in Molinaseca and all in one piece. It wasn’t as bad as was made out but still a bit dodgy in places. Jane was careful though stormed ahead of me at times, and we’ve got to here in one piece.

We set off very early this morning, up at 6 and out by half past. I had read that the sunrises were fabulous on the first part of the stretch and we wanted to see one. Unfortunately we walked up through the village in the thick mist. And it was blinking cold, down to 1 degree last night. It’s the first time we’ve had our gloves on (and I still managed to lose one on the way).

Once we got above the village and looked back we did get some lovely skies starting to glow but that was in between the clouds rolling in. We were looking back on the flat plains down to Leon.

After a couple of kms we arrived at the Cruz de Ferro. It’s an iconic part of the route and the highest point on the Camino. Traditionally you leave a stone to remember loved ones, so we paid our respects and Jane put her stone down for Stu, and then we carried on.

The stones on the path were very shale like and you had to be careful to follow a pre-worn route. The lavender was out in bloom by the side of the path and we were still hearing cuckoos despite the cloudy conditions. We stayed high for a couple of miles, dipping down at one point to a curious Albergue which the notice said was closed for renovations, not surprised by the state of it!

We also passed by lots of cows with bells on their necks clanging away on the hillside.

So finally we started the descent. It was similar to what we had experienced on Welsh mountains, we had our poles and we took our time letting anyone faster go past. There was one Korean lad who was obviously faster so we let him by, then he would stop to take photos, fall behind then come up behind us again to overtake. I got well and truly peeved after he did it for the third or fourth time.

While I remember, Koreans are in the highest number doing the Camino. They are a very catholic country and it’s seen as a rite of passage and good on your CV to walk the route.

Just before 10 we arrived at El Acebo for our breakfast, with a rainbow marking the village. It’s a quaint place, very alpine in its looks. We were starving by then so had empanadas (like a flat pasty) with coffee, but that wasn’t enough so had pain au chocolat and another coffee as well.

Stuffed we carried on our journey downwards. Just outside Acebo we met Laura from Germany who we hadn’t seen for a while and it was lovely walking with her to the next village where she was staying for the night. It had started raining a bit so our orange ponchos came out and we saw another huge vivid rainbow.

Leaving Laura behind we carried on downwards yet again for another 3 miles to finally get to Molinaseca. It’s a lovely place with narrow streets and overhanging balconies.

We’re staying in a bit of luxury tonight, in that it’s only a small place and there’s only one bunk bed in our room. Jane, despite her ankle, has elected to take the top bunk (I get up too many times in the night and disturb her). The bathroom is lovely with shower gel and shampoo provided, and we have been able to get our clothes washed for free. The Albergue seems to be run as a family affair and has only recently been converted.

We pottered in the Albergue then went out for a wander. There was nothing open at 4:30 but we managed to find a very local bar full of men playing card games. We knew the wine was a bit suspect when it made our mouths go red and was somewhat cloudy when you held it up to the light. The glass was none too new either.

A couple of drinks later we wandered around to the chemist as Jane needed some Paracetemol. I could hear some music so we followed that to see if it was somewhere serving food before 7 and we struck lucky. It was a kiosk set in funky grounds serving burgers and crepes.

We had the nicest burgers we have ever tasted - beef with with fried cecina (dried meat), strong local blue cheese and caramelised onions. Superb! Followed by a crepe of course.

Back at the Albergue we’re chilling and will hopefully get a good night’s sleep. We’ve ordered breakfast here too before a flat 13.7 mile day tomorrow.

[frienderbender]

Kikkin’ It with Kixx

The long-awaited(?) post where I talk about the specifics of the Kikkin’ It Rehab Center. This includes technical things like costs and credentials, as well as what I feel is implied about the actual rehabilitation techniques (as well as some stuff I’ve just kinda extrapolated from it). General note: yes, Rikki is my fave character but I do not agree with everything I talk about here. I feel like that’d be obvious but I’m just gonna cover my bases. Rikki is a terrible sobriety spokesperson.

With that outta the way, let’s get into it:

This first part is copied from old notes from another doc I made months ago; this is more technical stuff (costs, staff, etc.):

Opening a rehab center in California is costly. Obviously. In general, it can run anywhere from 100K to 2mil. Considering that the Kikkin’ It Rehab Center is implied to be a more high-end, celebrity rehab center, this ups the cost even more. At the very least, I’d say Rikki dropped a good 1.5 to 2.5 mil on this from the start. He definitely had the money to do so, though I like to think Nikki helped him with the costs as well. 

Again, since this is implied to be a celebrity rehab center, I’d imagine the actual price to stay there is anywhere from 10k to 30k a month. Also, because it’s so exclusive, I don’t think the center takes in more than probably around 30 people at a time. 

It’s never stated “officially” how many rehab centers there are. I think there’s probably only the one in Los Angeles, but there are smaller buildings they own that are used as meeting centers (the large main building is for housing and amenities). Specifically I think the building that we see Rikki holding that meeting in that Rockzo speaks at used to be a club owned by Rikki. But I’ll save the headcanon elaboration for my webcomic >:]

A fun fact: technically you don’t really need any special license to open a rehab center in California. You don’t need special credentials as long as you have a staff (licensed therapists, counselors, nurses, etc). With that in mind, I doubt Rikki has any sort of qualifications and instead just has a staff that runs things for him. I do think he helped write the basic guidelines of their practices, though, because his name is plastered all over this place. He owns it, he can do what he wants. And it explains a lot about himself when you actually listen to what’s being said. But more on that in a minute.

And to make that last part clearer, I think while he doesn’t have any sort of license, he is still absolutely leading the meetings and all that.

As far as the actual practices go, I’m basing what I imagine his general rehabilitation model is like on both more religion-oriented Alcoholics Anonymous/12-Step principles (worth noting that though AA was founded by a Christian group, it is non-denominational, though some groups do have a more overt religious edge to them), as well as the beliefs of famous celebrity rehab centers, specifically the infamous Passages Malibu.

I do think he uses a spiritual edge to his work because preying on people’s spirituality is a very easy way to get people to do what you want. With that in mind, regardless of what he may actually believe, I think the Kikkin’ It Rehab Center works based on the mindset that alcoholism is not a disease and rather a moral failing (which, in my opinion, is complete bullshit but that’s besides the point). I have a very long headcanon about Rikki and his relationship with faith which could be its own separate tangent but to sum up: I think he was raised very strictly Catholic and has a complicated relationship with religion as an adult. That said, he knows the power one can have if they can use religion as a means of manipulation, so he uses it in his rehab. 

In general, though, I think it follows a pretty basic 12 step program when you get right down to it.

So, back to what I was talking about a minute ago with the guidelines/practices of this place. Have you ever actually listened to what’s being said? Rikki claims that the key to getting sober is identifying the problem, no denying that. But what’s really striking is what Rockzo says at the meeting before Sobertown. 

Rockzo: “I have clarity now, and that’s an amazing thing, I tell you. The key to getting clean is killing that part of you that was hurting you. You gotta kill that part of yourself.”

So like. Do we see the implications of this? Rikki is straight up telling his clients that they have to kill parts of themselves in order to even begin to get sober; again, going back to my point that the Kikkin’ It Rehab Center goes by the “addiction is a moral failing” principle. And if you’re wondering how that applies to Snakes n’ Barrels: Pickles was identified as the problem, so in order to “kill” the thing that was holding them back, they did the next best thing: issued a restraining order and reunited without him. 

This is partly gonna turn into a Rikki analysis, which is inevitable with me, but I do think this idea of having to effectively “kill” parts of yourself says a lot about Rikki as a person. We know from watching him in the episode that he is so incredibly miserable, and that’s part of his motivation (“Because if I have to be sober, then I’ll make everybody sober, and they’ll have to live in the hell on Earth that I do.”) for running a rehab center at all. And when you think about it in this context, it makes perfect sense he feels this way. If he’s not only promoting a way of “healing” that includes talks of killing parts of yourself, but also actively trying to make his clients and the world around him feel as terrible as possible…yeah of course he’s miserable? I think this mindset is definitely reflective of some personal feelings on his own self, that he can really no longer recognize himself because that part of him is “dead.” He was his own worst problem.

I hope this makes some stuff a bit clearer about Rikki and why I definitely characterize his sobriety as being more of a genuine downward spiral than like. A new, healing chapter of his life. Yes, he absolutely needs to be sober if he was drinking so much that he has a severely damaged liver before 40, but I think his own personal ways of trying to make himself better were already poisoned from the start, so it made this journey to being clean more of like. A destruction of his own identity. This goes back to a lot of my own characterizations of Rikki (pre- and post- sobriety) where I think he gets a lot of his self-worth based on what others think of him. So in his mind it’s like. Oh people don’t like Rikki the rockstar anymore?? Ok he’s dead now. Do they like Rikki the SOBER rockstar?? They do???? Great, I’ll do anything to keep that perception of me in their heads. 

idk man. Rikki is my fave but dude he makes me so sad sometimes.

[shoujoboy-restart]

How do i stop feeling bad about being bi. / Same sex attracted? I feel the world and god hates me

A lot of instrospection and research into how normal same sex relations were WAAAAY before catholicism and after it too.

Mr Tomlinson was a farmer at Dog House Farm, which is on the site where a golf course now stands near Wakefield in West Yorkshire. He wrote the entry on 14 January 1810 in response to media reports of the execution of a naval surgeon for sodomy.

Mr Tomlinson wrote: 'It appears a paradox to me, how men, who are men, shou'd possess such a passion; and more particularly so, if it is their nature from childhood (as I am informed it is) - If they feel such an inclination, and propensity, at that certain time of life when youth genders [i.e. develops] into manhood; it must then be considered as natural, otherwise, as a defect in nature … it seems cruel to punish that defect with death.'

Mr Tomlinson goes on to question how God could allow such severe penalties for a divinely-ordained trait.

The passage was uncovered by Eamonn O’Keeffe, an AHRC-funded doctoral student in the History Faculty at the University of Oxford, while undertaking his PhD research in Wakefield Library. Although historians have written about other parts of the Tomlinson diary, this passage has not previously been brought to light.

Mr O’Keeffe said: 'In this diary we see a Yorkshire farmer arguing that homosexuality is innate and something that should not be punished by death. While Tomlinson’s writings reflect the opinions of only one man, his phrasing - ‘as I am informed it is’ - implies that his comments were informed by the views of others.

There's nothing new under the sun. At the heights of punishment and persecution of gays there are still people who cared for us and knew the way we were being treated was unfair, even the very label used against us, homossexual, was made by a gay liberation sexologist ad it meant to simply describe us normally.

I was never that religious, and my family was never too much about religion either, but we still hd clear catholic influence, my mother is a very open minded and just shrugged off both me being agnostic and me being gay so I'm very lucky for that.

But something that can help you is try to get away from concrete and boxed spirituality if you still find the need to use it, i myself think religious fundies are just sadistic narcissists: People that hate themselves so much they need to think everyone else does as well, and that even a ominipotent being that could solving droughts, famine and performing miracles instead gives a shit about who's sucking dick and wearing skimpy outfits.

Find pride in your sexuality too, don't feel ashamed of having weird fetishes or having unusual desires, as long as it's consensual and with sane informed adults you doing nothing wrong at all, explore what you like and what you dislike, and don't feel pressured to be a prude "because it's the minimum you can do as sinful homossexual" be what you want to be because it's what makes you happy and satisfied, i do personally think "conservative gay" stereotypically doesn't provide many answers for how you feel, since the least of it is gay guys that are disinterested in what benefits us and the extreme is gay dudes praising and laughing over terrorists commiting mass murder against us, so try to find a middle ground obviously.

Understand you were worth respect dozens of thousands if not millions of years ago and you have only been disrespected for barely a millenia and the world is progressing and finding space for you, find community and friends to relate with and instrospect and research to know you were always loved and there was always a place for you and there will always be no matter what.

[ithisatanytime]

Trey Skies - S O A R // B Y E 楽しむ (prod. doujinshi) [Yu Yu Hakusho AMV]

even if andrew tate wasnt a jewish fed (he absolutely is though) he is still a piece of shit for what he did to those women, im not feminist, but id fight his ass and you can tell him i said it, i saw his fights i wasnt impressed. hes dog shit, and i would bet my life, my actual life, that hes sucked a mans cock before and on multiple occasions to, his physiognomy his body language, everything, is among the worst i have ever seen and it all points toward deep sexual dysfunction beyond whats already known about him publicly. furthermore i find the recent “based muslims” push by the captured portions of internet media to be insulting, because while islam may revere christ more than jews, that really isnt saying much, but more, what is beautiful in islam? seriously what does islam have to over that christianity lacks? im not even looking for anything super convincing or even true, they dont offer any of the individual scriptures no one besides muslims knows a single quran quote by heart because it sucks, i havent read the whole thing but ive read a lot of it, and its just not inspired text obviously, there is nothing in there that comes from god that wasnt lifted wholesale from the bible. nonchristians around the world are influenced daily by the teachings of jesus christ, his message at the time was completely revolutionary, the primacy of love.

  even all of the rules that are suddenly appealing to westerners about women and such are already contained in the christian bible but with a thousand times more brevity, women are to dress a certain way and to be in quiet submission to their husbands, that about covers it dont you think? but the quran expands on this and everything, even directing muslims on which foot to step into the bathroom with and which foot to step out with, and which bare hand to wipe your ass with of course (not kidding at all thats in there) which is just like the jewish talmud which is like 40 bibles in length and rabbis will openly admit that pretty much none of them have read it all, the rare honest rabbis anyway, its filled with ugly mundane rules, rules of men, its pharisaical garbage. i dont want to just rale against islam, but im honestly insulted by the recruitment attempt. this would never be if christianity werent watered down and obfuscated by the likes of catholics and especially the so called jews, but everything based about islam is already present in Christianity as its presented in the bible. furthermore dont believe the lie that it was translated hundreds of times, the king james bible was translated only once into english from the original greek texts. and while im on the subject i have seen now several times the unbelievable cope that the bible passages forbidding men to lie with other men is a mistranslated and the original was a condemnation against pedophilia, absolutely fucking not, even if it were the condemnation against homosexuality is in both the old and new testament in multiple places, the sodom and gommorah story makes no sense in that context, nor does the condemnation against women lying with women. whats most telling about this insane cope is that its coming from people who dont call themselves christians in any sense, so ostensibly the bible is just like any other book, what should it matter to them what it says if its not divinely inspired? its because their own souls convict them

 there is no doubt in my mind that the god of the old testament made himself mainifest on earth as jesus christ and he died for our sins and was risen agian, i have no idea how close to orthodoxy that is and i dont care i read the book for myself and im close personal friends with the other.

[testudoaubrei-blog]

Content note for discussions of eternal damnation, and all sorts of other shit that will trigger a lot of folks with religious trauma.

Before I get started I might as well explain where I’m coming from - unlike a lot of She-Ra fans, and a lot of queer people, I don’t have much religious trauma, or any, maybe (okay there were a number of years I was convinced I was going to hell, but that happens to everyone, right?). I was raised a liberal Christian by liberal Christian parents in the Episcopal Church, where most of my memories are overwhelmingly positive. Fuck, growing up in the 90’s, Chuch was probably the only place outside my home I didn’t have homophobia spewed at me. Because it was the 90’s and it was a fucking hellscape of bigotry where 5 year olds knew enough to taunt each other with homophobic slurs and the adults didn’t know enough to realize how fucked up that was. Anyway. This is my experience, but it is an atypical one, and I know it. Quite frankly I know that my experience of Christianity has very little at all to do with what most people experienced, or what people generally mean when they talk about Christianity as a cultural force in America today. So if you were raised Christian and you don’t recognize your theology here, congrats, neither do I, but these ideas and cultural forces are huge and powerful and dominant. And it’s this dominant Christian narrative that I’m referring to in this post. As well as, you know, a children’s cartoon about lesbian rainbow princesses. So here it goes. This is going to get batshit.

"All events whatsoever are governed by the secret counsel of God." - John Calvin

“We’re all just a bunch of wooly guys” - Noelle Stevenson

This is a post triggered by a single scene, and a single line. It’s one of the most fucked-up scenes in She-Ra, toward the end of Save the Cat. Catra, turned into a puppet by Prime, struggles with her chip, desperately trying to gain control of herself, so lost and scared and vulnerable that she flings aside her own death wish and her pride and tearfully begs Adora to rescue her. Adora reaches out , about to grab her, and then Prime takes control back, pronounces ‘disappointing’ and activates the kill switch that pitches Catra off the platform and to her death (and seriously, she dies here, guys - also Adora breaks both her legs in the fall). But before he does, he dismisses Catra with one of his most chilling lines. “Some creatures are meant only for destruction.”

And that’s when everyone watching probably had their heart broken a little bit, but some of the viewers raised in or around Christianity watching the same scene probably whispered ‘holy shit’ to themselves. Because Prime’s line - which works as a chilling and callous dismissal of Catra - is also an allusion to a passage from the Bible. In fact, it’s from one of the most fucked up passages in a book with more than its share of fucked up passages. It’s from Romans 9:22, and I’m going to quote several previous verses to give the context of the passage (if not the entire Epistle, which is more about who needs to abide by Jewish dietary restrictions but was used to construct a systematic theology in the centuries afterwards because people decided it was Eternal Truth).

19 Thou wilt say then unto me, Why doth he yet find fault? For who hath resisted his will?

20 Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?

21 Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?

22 What if God, willing to shew his wrath, and to make his power known, endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction:

The context of the allusion supports the context in the show. Prime is dismissing Catra - serial betrayer, liar, failed conqueror, former bloody-handed warlord - as worthless, as having always been worthless and fit only to be destroyed. He is speaking from a divine and authoritative perspective (because he really does think he’s God, more of this in my TL/DR Horde Prime thing). Prime is echoing not only his own haughty dismissal of Catra, and Shadow Weaver’s view of her, but also perhaps the viewer’s harshest assessment of her, and her own worst fears about herself. Catra was bad from the start, doomed to destroy and to be destroyed. A malformed pot, cracked in firing, destined to be shattered against a wall and have her shards classified by some future archaeologist 2,000 years later. And all that’s bad enough.

But the full historical and theological context of this passage shows the real depth of Noelle Stevenson’s passion and thought and care when writing this show. Noelle was raised in Evangelical or Fundamentalist Christianity. To my knowledge, he has never specified what sect or denomination, but in interviews and her memoir Noelle has shown a particular concern for questions that this passage raises, and a particular loathing for the strains of Protestant theology that take this passage and run with it - that is to say, Calvinism. So while I’m not sure if Noelle was raised as a conservative, Calvinist Presbyterian, his preoccupation with these questions mean that it’s time to talk about Calvinism.

It would be unfair, perhaps, to say that Calvinism is a systematic theology built entirely upon the Epistles of Romans and Galatians, but only -just- (and here my Catholic readers in particular will chuckle to themselves and lovingly stroke their favorite passage of the Epistle of James). The core of Calvinist Doctrine is often expressed by the very Dutch acronym TULIP:

Total Depravity - people are wholly evil, and incapable of good action or even willing good thoughts or deeds

Unconditional Election - God chooses some people to save because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, not because they did anything to deserve, trigger or accept it

Limited Atonement - Jesus died only to save the people God chose to save, not the rest of us bastards

Irresistible Grace - God chooses some people to be saved - if you didn’t want to be saved, too bad, God said so.

Perseverance of the Saints - People often forget this one and assume it’s ‘predestination’ but it’s actually this - basically, once saved by God, always saved, and if it looks like someone falls out of grace, they were never saved to begin with. Well that’s all sealed up tight I guess.

Reading through these, predestination isn’t a single doctrine in Calvinism but the entire theological underpinnings of it together with humanity’s utter powerlessness before sin. Basically God has all agency, humanity has none. Calvinism (and a lot of early modern Protestantism) is obsessed with questions of how God saves people (grace alone, AKA Sola Fides) and who God saves (the people god elects and only the people God elects, and fuck everyone else).

It’s apparent that Noelle was really taken by these questions, and repelled by the answers he heard. He’s alluded to having a tattoo refuting the Gospel passage about Sheep and Goats being sorted at the end times, affirming instead that ‘we’re all just a bunch of wooly guys’ (you can see this goat tattoo in some of his self-portraits in comics, etc). He’s also mentioned that rejecting and subverting destiny is a huge part of everything he writes as a particular rejection of the idea that some individual people are 'chosen' by God or that God has a plan for any of us. You can see that -so clearly- in Adora’s arc, where Adora embraces and then rejects destiny time and again and finally learns to live life for herself.

But for Catra, we’re much more concerned about the most negative aspect of this - the idea that some people are vessels meant for destruction. And that’s something else that Noelle is preoccupied with. In her memoir in the section about leaving the church and becoming a humanistic atheist, there is a drawing of a pot and the question ‘Am I a vessel prepared for destruction?’ Obviously this was on Noelle’s mind (And this is before he came out to himself as queer!).

To look at how this question plays out in Catra’s entire arc, let’s first talk about how ideas of damnation and salvation actually play out in society. And for that I’m going to plug one of my favorite books, Gin Lun’s Damned Nation: Hell in America from the Revolution to Reconstruction (if you can tell by now, I am a fucking blast at parties). Lun tells the long and very interesting story about, how ideas of hell and who went there changed during the Early American Republic. One of the interesting developments that she talks about is how while at first people who were repelled by Calvinism started moving toward a doctrine of universal salvation (no on goes to hell, at least not forever*), eventually they decided that hell was fine as long as only the right kind of people went there. Mostly The Other - non-Christian foreigners, Catholics, Atheists, people who were sinners in ways that were not just bad but weird and violated Victorian ideas of respectability. Really, Hell became a way of othering people, and arguably that’s how it survives today, especially as a way to other queer people (but expanding this is slated for my Montero rant). Now while a lot of people were consciously rejecting Calvinist predestination, they were still drawing the distinction between the Elect (good, saved, worthwhile) and the everyone else (bad, damned, worthless). I would argue that secularized ideas of this survive to this day even among non-Christian spaces in our society - we like to draw lines between those who Elect, and those who aren’t.

And that’s what brings us back to Catra. Because Catra’s entire arc is a refutation of the idea that some people are worthless and irredeemable, either by nature, nurture or their own actions. Catra’s actions strain the conventions of who is sympathetic in a Kid’s cartoon - I’ve half joked that she’s Walter White as a cat girl, and it’s only half a joke. She’s cruel, self-deluded, she spends 4 seasons refusing to take responsibility for anything she does and until Season 5 she just about always chooses the thing that does the most damage to herself and others. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, the show goes out of its way to demonstrate that Catra is morally culpable in every step of her descent into evil (except maybe her break with reality just before she pulls the lever). The way that Catra personally betrays everyone around her, the way she strips herself of all of her better qualities and most of what makes her human, hell even her costume changes would signal in any other show that she’s irredeemable.

It’s tempting to see this as Noelle’s version of being edgy - pushing the boundaries of what a sympathetic character is, throwing out antiheroics in favor of just making the villain a protagonist. Noelle isn’t quite Alex ‘I am in the business of traumatizing children’ Hirsch, who seems to have viewed his job as pushing the bounds of what you could show on the Disney Channel (I saw Gravity Falls as an adult and a bunch of that shit lives rent free in my nightmares forever), but Noelle has his own dark side, mostly thematically. The show’s willingness to deal with abuse, and messed up religious themes, and volatile, passionate, not particularly healthy relationships feels pretty daring. I’m not joking when I gleefully recommend this show to friends as ‘a couple from a Mountain Goats Song fights for four seasons in a cartoon intended for 9 year olds’. Noelle is in his own way pushing the boundaries of what a kids show can do. If you read Noelle’s other works like Nimona, you see an argument for Noelle being at least a bit edgy. Nimona is also angry, gleefully destructive, violent and spiteful - not unlike Catra. Given that it was a 2010s webcomic and not a kids show, Nimona is a good deal worse than Catra in some ways - Catra doesn’t kill people on screen, while Nimona laughs about it (that was just like, a webcomic thing - one of the fan favorite characters in my personal favorite, Narbonic, was a fucking sociopath, and the heroes were all amoral mad scientists, except for the superintelligent gerbil**). But unlike Nimona, whose fate is left open ended, Catra is redeemed.

And that is weird. We’ve had redemption arcs, but generally not of characters with -so- much vile stuff in their history. Going back to the comparison between her and Azula, many other shows, like Avatar, would have made Catra a semi-sympathetic villain who has a sob-story in their origin but who is beyond redemption, and in so doing would articulate a kind of psychologized Calvinism where some people are too traumatized to ever be fully and truly human. I’d argue this is the problem with Azula as a character - she’s a fun villain, but she doesn’t have moral agency, and the ultimate message of her arc - that she’s a broken person destined only to hurt people - is actually pretty fucked up. And that’s the origin story of so many serial killers and psycopaths that populate so many TV shows and movies. Beyond ‘hurt people hurt people’ they have nothing to teach us except perhaps that trauma makes you a monster and that the only possible response to people doing bad things is to cut them out of your life and out of our society (and that’s why we have prisons, right?)

And so Catra’s redemption and the depths from which she claws herself back goes back to Noelle’s desire to prove that no person is a vessel ‘fitted for destruction.’ Catra goes about as far down the path of evil as we’ve ever seen a protagonist in a kids show go, and she still has the capacity for good. Importantly, she is not subject to total depravity - she is capable of a good act, if only one at first. Catra is the one who begins her own redemption (unlike in Calvinism, where grace is unearned and even unwelcomed) - because she wants something better than what she has, even if its too late, because she realizes that she never wanted any of this anyway, because she wants to do one good thing once in her life even if it kills her.

The very extremity of Catra’s descent into villainy serves to underline the point that Noelle is trying to make - that no one can be written off completely, that everyone is capable of change, and that no human being is garbage, no matter how twisted they’ve become. Meanwhile her ability to set her own redemption in motion is a powerful statement of human agency, and healing, and a refutation of Calvinism’s idea that we are powerless before sin or pop cultural tropes about us being powerful before the traumas of our upbringing. Catra’s arc, then, is a kind of anti-Calvinist theological statement - about the nature of people and the nature of goodness.

Now, there is a darker side to this that Noelle has only hinted at, but which is suggested by other characters on the show. Because while Catra’s redemption shows that people are capable of change, even when they’ve done horrible things, been fucked up and fucked themselves up, it also illustrates the things people do to themselves that make change hard. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, two of the most sinister parts of her descent into villainy are her self-dehumanization (crushing her own compassion and desire to do good) and her rewriting of her own history in her speech and memory to make her own actions seem justified (which we see with her insistence that Adora left her, eliding Adora’s offers to have Catra join her, or her even more clearly false insistence that Entrapta had betrayed them). In Catra, these processes keep her going down the path of evil, and allow her to nearly destroy herself and everyone else. But we can see the same processes at work in two much darker figures - Shadow Weaver and Horde Prime. These are both rants for another day, but the completeness of Shadow Weaver’s narcissistic self-justification and cultivated callousness and the even more complete narcissism of Prime’s god complex cut both characters off from everyone around them. Perhaps, in a theoretical sense, they are still redeemable, but for narrative purposes they might as well be damned.

This willingness to show a case where someone -isn’t- redeemed actually serves to make Catra’s redemption more believable, especially since Noelle and the writers draw the distinction between how Catra and SW/Prime can relate to reality and other people, not how broken they are by their trauma (unlike Zuko and Azula, who are differentiated by How Fucked Uolp They Are). Redemption is there, it’s an option, we can always do what is right, but someone people will choose not to, in part because doing the right thing involves opening ourselves to the world and others, and thus being vulnerable. Noelle mentions this offhandedly in an interview after Season 1 with the She-Ra Progressive of Power podcast - “I sometimes think that shades of grey, sympathetic villains are part of the escapist fantasy of shows like this.” Because in the real world, some people are just bastards, a point that was particularly clear in 2017. Prime and Shadow Weaver admit this reality, while Catra makes a philosophical point that even the bastards can change their ways (at least in theory).

*An idea first proposed in the second century by Origen, who’s a trip and a fucking half by himself, and an idea that becomes the Catholic doctrine of purgatory, which protestants vehemently denied!

**Speaking of favorite Noelle tropes

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

The Mysterious Guests of the Boothe Hotel

Rated: Mature

Young Adult, Supernatural, Mild Language, Descriptions of Violence, Queer Themes

The Boothe Hotel has been standing for almost one hundred and fifty years. Despite its rich history and ever-growing additions in these modern times, it’s actually a pretty average building. On the surface at least. This summer was supposed to be great, but it turns out Great doesn’t always mean Good.

PROLOGUE

Boothe Hotel has been in my family for several generations. It’s a tall, five story manor house with dozens of rooms, secret passages, and a bomb shelter beneath the building. All I know is my great great grandfather insisted on the bomb shelter when he had the place built. It’s super huge and has this cool echo effect.

I don’t think it was called a bomb shelter at the time. It was 1874 and I’m not sure bombings were a thing then. American History is like the worst class in our schools. You can’t blame me for not knowing anything useful. I’m sixteen, I have other stuff to do.

So anyway, the hotel. The name came from my late, great-great-grandfather’s family. Edvard Boothe was his name, and he wanted desperately to own a massive building where he could rent rooms out to tourists for exorbitant prices. I’ve seen some of the paperwork saved from that time period, it was not cheap in the slightest. He did everything he could to skin people of their fleece and was all too happy to do it too, yet no one held it against him.

The family business basically revolves around this massive building and keeping the business going. It’s been renovated once every quarter century and updated with the newest technology of the times. Edvard Boothe made so much money off of foolish tourists that my family are still finding his money stashes even to this day. Do you know how much the currency from the mid-to-late-1800s is worth? At least once a decade we find more and then literally sell it to the highest bidder since we have no use for it.

Mom kept one bill and one coin for preservation purposes in a glass case, but everything else is always sold off.

Obviously we aren’t hurting financially, which is why we can afford to be much more lenient in renting out rooms in this day and age.

I gotta say, I’m very fortunate to have this as my life. I don’t have to look for a job. I don’t have to marry in a specific way. I don’t even have to go to college. This is great! I get to work in the hotel, eventually inherit the building, and then be comfortable for life. Not a bad lot in my opinion.

Dealing with some people with nasty attitudes now and then is definitely worth all of this. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

~.O.~

“Is this place haunted?” the woman across from me asked as I went through the paperwork necessary for her to rent the room she desired. Northside, facing the greenhouse, window seat, and a queen-sized bed to be exact. One of the better rooms on the third floor and it came with a nice view.

Her glasses made her look bug-eyed. It was kinda funny. She gave me Trelawney vibes. The flowing clothes and whimsical nature added into the idea very well. Or maybe more like Miss Grotke? Both at once? If they had a kid maybe?

“Not that I’m aware,” I told her as I considered the long history of the hotel. “No one in the family has ever mentioned such a thing and we have records dating back to Boothe Hotel’s founding day.” Though I’m pretty sure suggesting the existence of ghosts in the late 1800s, in the middle of a severely Roman Catholic town, would be a very bad idea.

“Is it alright if I place a salt line in every ‘tween just in case?” Our new guest asked, pulling an elaborately carved, crystal salt shaker from her mauve purse. The kind you’d find in some antique shop or something.

I blinked. Salt in the ‘tweens? “You mean in the doorways and windows?”

“Yes.”

“You can try, but there are drafts in the house. Those lines probably won’t last for very long, especially at night,” I told her apologetically. Unfortunately, that’s not something I can control around here. “There are space heaters in each of the rooms though, so you don’t have to worry about getting cold at least.”

The woman, a Ms. Eva Markle, beamed revealing some very shiny teeth. “Thank you, dear!”

If it makes her feel better than more power to her. It won’t take much effort to clean it up since someone will have to sweep and then mop it every few days just to be safe. A bit of salt never hurt anyone… much.

~.O.~

“I’m just not understanding the thought process behind this decision,” I said as I helped my friend Carlie carry her luggage up to her temporary room. In my hands were two massive suitcases that could probably knock a grown man unconscious if thrown hard enough. She had the other three. “You live a few blocks away in a big mansion of your own. One that’s bigger than this place if you recall,�� was my remark.

“Yeah, but since I’ve decided to spend my summer vacation here, I get to use your pool every day, get to eat your mom’s food for breakfast, get to sleep in a massive room all by myself without being interrupted by shouting brothers, and get to hang out with you while you work.”

Well… her siblings were all very nosy. The sleeping arrangement made sense at least.

We stopped on the second floor, third door on the left, Room 203. “You can do all of that at any time though, for free,” I reminded her. “You come over often enough.”

Carlie stuck her tongue out at me. “But when the day’s done, I won’t have to go back home this time.”

Ah. That made sense.

It wasn’t that Carlie had a horrible home life or anything. Her parents were just so consumed with work that they were never around. As such, the eldest child ended up being the one in charge of taking care of the household. Carlie was not the eldest or the second eldest, but because the other two, both eighteen year old twins, always managed to have plans they ‘couldn’t cancel without being rude’, she ended up the next in line to watch her five younger siblings.

This actually made Carlie’s choice to reserve a room for 10 weeks back in May, make more sense. School didn’t end until June 2nd, but she had already called in her reservation a month in advance. Since she spent her own money on the room ahead of time, she had prior commitments basically and would not be around for the entire summer. Her mother only went along with it and provided signatures for Carlie who was still a minor, because she lost some bet with Carlie about the conclusion of their favorite sitcom.

Carlie’s whole family operated on keeping promises and arranged engagements to the best of your ability. Her older brothers got away with basically being useless to the family because they were smart enough to have prior commitments lined up all the time. This time however, Carlie had beaten them to it, planning out everything meticulously over a month in advance.

Such a belief system was unique in the sense that honoring your word was most important. It took precedence over everything. Even punishments received at home. The punishment would have to be put off until later or ignored entirely if a child got in trouble but had a commitment they could not abandon.

It made finding loopholes very easy, but Carlie’s parents didn’t really seem to mind. In fact, from what I recall, they got a kick out of the inner machinations of the minds of their children. Successfully getting out of a punishment or postponing it long enough for it to no longer matter took skill in manipulation.

It was also really funny!

Hell, Carlie’s younger brother Inigo had once intended to break a rule, but knew he’d get grounded for it due to past experience, so he signed up for a school play which then required him to be at every practice the school had for the next two months. This meant he would never be home long enough to be successfully grounded and his parents had to either dream up something else that could work with such a schedule, or simply give him a stern talking to.

Carlie and I had gotten a kick out of it. Especially when he tried pulling out of the play a month later because he didn’t want to have to sing. Yet he was a Rousseau. He’d chosen to commit himself to something, so he would finish what he started, as family tradition dictated. Being in the play ended up being more of a punishment than anything else he would have gotten.

Unfortunately for Carlie, manipulation wasn’t her forte, so rarely did she win in these kinds of games.

“Smart,” I murmured as I handed her the room key. “Devious. I like it.”

“I know, right?”

With Carlie here all the time, things would be so much cooler. We could go swimming and exploring. Maybe even check out the bomb shelter in person while we’re at it since we’re older now. I haven’t been down there personally, I’ve just sung into the hole a lot like I’m Snow White looking for someone I love to find me and getting nothing but a lame echo of myself in return.

Once her things were set up properly, we went back downstairs to the dining hall where my mom was already setting up the breakfast table. Currently we had nine guests and as such, the hall was always open in the morning, with food ready to eat until eleven. The breakfast was complimentary and my mom’s pancakes were awesome. The superior breakfast food in this house. They have chocolate chips.

“Hi, Ms. Boothe!” Carlie said with a wave as we took a seat at the first table near the double door entrance.

“Glad to have you with us, Carlie. How’s your head been?” mom asked as she shifted the plates on the breakfast table around so they were more easily accessible to the guests. The nameplates were also set up showing which foods were made with what allergy-inducing ingredient.

Mom was talking about the unfortunate accident Carlie had had with the front door last week. Meaning she walked right into it while someone was opening it, somehow, and ended up with a massive egg on her forehead. The swelling had receded by now and she’d expertly hidden the evidence of a wound with concealer, but the memory of how purple it had gotten was still fresh in mind.

It had been really gross, so obviously I had to poke it just because I’m that type of friend.

I got a sharp elbow in my ribs in return, don’t worry.

“So long as I don’t touch it, I’m golden, Ms. Boothe!” Carlie said, sending me a dirty look that I couldn’t help but cackle at.

Mom smiled and set down a massive platter full of pancakes right at our table. Ten in total, five for each of us. The chocolate chips were all melty and awesome. “Since I know that’s where you’ll both go, I brought them to you.”

“Thanks!” we chorused.

I grabbed the chocolate syrup already on the table, while Carlie monopolized the maple praline. We chatted quietly amongst ourselves for a few moments until the quiet was interrupted by the click-clacking of a familiar pair of shoes.

Our newest guest walked into the room, mauve purse slung over one forearm and large, round glasses firmly set in place. She took note of us and beamed, walking over quickly to place her bag down on Carlie’s other side. “Hello, dears!”

“Hi, Ms. Markle. How’s your morning been?” I asked as I rolled a pancake up like it was a newspaper and dipped it in my syrup.

The woman adjusted her dozens of silver bangles and righted her flowy, green shirt. “Quite well, thank you. I didn’t have to deal with any of the drafts that you warned about. I’m very pleased with the state of my room as well as the antique furniture! So fetch!”

Oh my God.

“That’s good,” I said with a barely-repressed grin. “Mom’s set out breakfast by the long window if you’re interested.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

Carlie sent me a look as Ms. Markle went to get her own breakfast.

I leaned in to say, “She wanted to put down protective salt lines in her room.” I found it rather adorable, but the frown on Carlie’s face was concerning. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Why would she do that?”

I shrugged. “She thinks the place is haunted and since it won’t harm anyone, I didn’t see a problem with her putting the salt down.”

Carlie was silent for a brief moment, before asking, “Are we staying on the same floor?”

“No…? Why?”

Carlie sighed in obvious relief. “Overly superstitious people weird me out, but if we’re on different floors then it’s okay. Also, her jewelry is made of silver and I hate silver. It rubs me the wrong way, literally.”

Weird. I don’t get what her concern is about but to each their own. So long as they were civil to each other it didn’t matter to me what happened between them. Guest infighting was so annoying to deal with, you have no idea.

Ms. Markle returned with a bowl full of… bacon covered in mayonnaise and relish. Carlie and I shared a look as if somehow the other had the answer for why this was a thing we had to be exposed to. The woman then seated herself and began rummaging through her purse until she withdrew a stalk of rhubarb and some whole ginger?

Why? Who just carries that stuff in their bag? Where did she fit it in the bag? Like, it was a decent sized bag but it wasn’t like a tote or anything.

The rhubarb was dipped into the relish, then the mayo, and then very clearly munched on like it was some kind of candy.

Okay, maybe there is a reason to be concerned about Ms. Markle. Rhubarb is nasty. Relish and mayonnaise on rhubarb sounds like it would produce the flavor of licking Satan’s anus in person.

Ignoring the eating habits of our tablemate wasn’t easy. Especially when she began working on the whole ginger, dipping it in the sauce combo as well. Why? What possessed this woman to eat like this?

I’m so glad breakfast is the only complimentary meal we offer. I will only have to deal with this once a day if I’m lucky.

~.O.~

The south side of the hotel faces the woods. It’s a big area around here, and the trees can grow exceptionally high in the right conditions.

The woods border the mini golf course that was added to the property about ten years ago. Golf is pretty popular in Gaylord. Mini golf is more for funsies though and less competitive when it comes to normal people.

Anyway, the setup is nice and Carlie loves it. Especially since the course only costs $3 to play through. The money earned through the mini golf course is donated to a local charity since we don’t actually need it.

As usual, Carlie was dressed in her head-to-toe black ensemble. Only the skin of her face was visible and she carried a large, black parasol around as we played. When it was her turn to use the putter, I’d hold it over her head for her. I’m just nice like that.

She was one of those pasty white people. The kind who would turn to flame if the sun even blinked at them for a second. To protect her skin she wore SPF 90 sunscreen all the time and always smelled like bananas as a result. Carlie hates bananas by the way.

“I feel like you want to beat the hell out of that ball,” I told her as she tapped the ball into the hole in order to get a Par. “Like, it’s in your aura or something, not necessarily in anything you’ve done. You know?”

“I haven’t been to the driving range in months. It’s a great way to let out some pent up aggression,” she confessed with a frown, giving her putter the stink eye.

Yeah. Carlie’s swing was ridiculous. Baseball, golf, you name it, she’d cave your head in if you stood too close.

On my end, I like to leave the sports to the people who are good at them. I’m not about that life.

I handed the parasol back with a smile. “For your delicate, baby butt skin.”

She stuck her tongue out. “Ha ha. So funny. Truly a talent unlike any other. Really.”

“Your sarcasm powers my dark soul.”

A roll of the eyes was her response.

Before we could tease each other any further, Ms. Markle appeared in our line of sight. She was walking down the path that surrounded the hotel, reading a book while also nibbling on a raw, uncooked beet. I don’t know where she got it from. Certainly not the hotel since we’d never waste money on something like that. I never saw her leave for the town either.

Carlie turned away, nose wrinkled in disgust. She really didn’t like Ms. Markle at all, huh? How odd. I thought she was pretty nice, if a little weird.

The woman felt fine to me. In fact, everyone in the hotel was pretty chill in my opinion. It was rare that everyone staying here was a nice person. I planned to fully appreciate that fact as much as possible, for as long as possible.

I just have a feeling that this summer is going to be a great one. I can’t really explain it, but I’m looking forward to it. My best friend will be here everyday, which is awesome! The weather is supposed to be nice all summer, which is good for our plans. The guests are decent people on top of all that.

Great times ahead.

~.O.~

Act I is available for purchase on my [Ko-Fi]. Read the Commission details before committing to anything. Act I is $4, containing the Prologue + Ch. 1-4. 15K+ words available.

The release schedule will be iffy because I'm homeless and trying to find a place to live. Ko-Fi is the only way I'm making money right now so I'm doing my best. Apologies.

[justiceraffles]

About the Gosho Boys and literary crime fiction

This is a lengthy text wall in which I ramble about detectives. It started out with me thinking about the Gosho boys and their relationship with classic mystery fiction and literary/fictional detectives and it ended up derailing into a Hakuba rabbit hole in which I overanalyse details pointlessly for hours because I guess that is simply how most of my free time is spent.

(Fair warning that this is probably ridden with mistakes because I am capable of only 1.3 thoughts at a time)

So, when it comes to Shinichi, Heiji and Kaito, they all have a literary character from classic detective fiction that they’re closely associated with. Namely, it’s Sherlock Holmes for Shinichi, Ellery Queen for Heiji, and Arsène Lupin for Kaito. The relationship they hold with each of these figures (and with crime fiction in general) is very different, but it’s quite telling of their personality, character, their relationship with literature, and their respective approach to their profession. I talk about each of them a little bit and then just spend half the time talking about Hakuba. 

Shinichi is born in a household where mystery fiction is extremely important. He is surrounded by this type of story and his parents nurture this interest actively. Detectives and mysteries permeate his life wholly. For Shinichi, Holmes is seen as the maximum exponent of a genre. Holmes is The Great Detective. The archetype, the one that defines what it means to be a detective and the one later writers will seek to emulate one way or another. Detective fiction is what it is today because of Holmes, so it makes complete sense for Shinichi to have him as his idol. Holmes is what he strives to be and it’s what people associate him with. 

Heiji is a lot more subtle than Shinichi is, but he is also very much a lit nerd. Ellery Queen is both a character and a pseudonym for the writers that created him. As a character, Ellery Queen is such a perfect choice for Heiji’s favourite detective. He’s a mystery writer who doubles as a sleuth and helps his father, a police inspector, in solving crimes. Wonder if that sounds familiar, huh. Aside from similarities in the character (I could go on about some passages that have such strong Heiji vibes I’d be here forever) the Queen novels challenge the reader very directly. They tell you to pay attention, that you are presented with the exact same clues as the detective and should therefore be able to solve the mystery as well. The mystery story is a competition and the author issues a challenge by presenting it to the reader. I love this because Heiji has a huge competitive streak, and this is highlighted from his introduction. To find that the stories he’s passionate about also encourage this side of him is just so fitting and appropriate. 

The case where Shinichi and Heiji meet always makes me think of the contrast between reading a Holmes novel and a Queen story. Personally, I feel like the enjoyment of a Holmes story often relies on letting yourself be awed by the deduction. You can follow along with the mystery but a big part of the charm is based on the detective himself and the way he explains the thought process that leads him to his conclusion. You’re meant to sit down and enjoy as Holmes explains himself, and admire his brilliance. There’s a focus on the truth and the way to reach it, which is very, very Shinichi. A Queen novel, on the other hand, invites you to play along as you read. You are on equal standing with the detective, and it’s up to you to reach the same conclusion he does. These are the principles of “fair-play” in mystery fiction. As it implies, it is very much a game! So Heiji challenging Shinichi to a battle of wits and deductions goes perfectly in line with what he’s reading. Holmes is the genius detective you look up to with admiration, Queen is a sleuth that invites you to solve the crime alongside him. These suit the vibes that Shinichi and Heiji give off themselves very well. 

Kaito is much, much different for obvious reasons. He’s not a detective, and he’s not nearly as much of a mystery geek as the others are. The entire KID persona is closely associated with Arséne Lupin because Toichi fashions it accordingly. Even if phantom thieves aren’t quite the same as Leblanc’s original idea for the Gentleman Burglar, they still have a clear origin in Lupin and there’s important similarities to be made between them. Storytelling-wise, KID heists work on the same principles as Lupin stories. You know the criminal is there, hidden amongst the cast presented to you, and you know he will carry out the crime. And, regardless of whether you have an inkling of an idea of how he’s going to pull it off or not, you still allow yourself to be amazed by his methods regardless when the trick is revealed! Even when the schemes are outlandish and border on the fantastical and unbelievable, the stories are best enjoyed when you suspend your disbelief and allow the plots and characters to be over the top. But well, the connection between Lupin and KID is fairly self-explanatory. So, rather than KID, I think it’s more interesting to think about the relationship between Lupin and Kaito himself.  

Kaito doesn’t seek to be seen as a modern day-Lupin in the same way Shinichi wants to be a modern day-Holmes. Unlike Shinichi who becomes a detective in great part because he has Holmes as his idol, Kaito doesn’t become a thief because of his admiration towards a literary character, but because of his love and admiration towards his father. Kaito dons the KID suit with pride because it’s something his father left behind, and he embraces each part of it because it can lead to answers and understanding. But, always cryptic, Lupin doesn’t provide a whole lot of answers and understanding, and neither does Toichi. Lupin admits that he struggles to recognise himself under all the disguises and roles he has played. The truth behind his father’s character seems to become more elusive the more Kaito becomes involved with thievery. The “gentleman thief” persona, despite being charming and theatrical, has consequences on a personal life. 

...And then there’s Hakuba. 

Hakuba is complicated. 

But, Raffles! You say, Saguru is another Sherlock geek!

Well, yes. Of course he is. The deerstalker outfit and him naming his hawk Watson make that clear. Hakuba is an absolute Holmes nerd. 

I’m here to read too deeply into it when it’s most definitely not that deep at all. But, there’s never enough information about Hakuba and I have a blast overthinking stuff. So that’s what we’re gonna do! 

Despite obviously being a big fan, Hakuba’s relationship with Holmes is different from that of Shinichi’s. 

First, we don’t get to see Hakuba nerding out about Holmes novels and stories in the same way Shinichi does. He doesn’t quote Holmes at length or go on about how much he loves the books. Instead, we know Hakuba’s a nerd because he’s apparently passionate enough about this character to include things associated with him into his own personal image and identity.

Second, there’s the way others perceive him. Shinichi and Kaito (as KID) get “Heisei Holmes” and “Reiwa Lupin”. Despite irking a couple officers every now and again, Heiji is held in high regard and considered a great detective by the police force. Hakuba has a considerable amount of fame, but he doesn’t receive the same amount of trust people place on Shinichi and Heiji. It’s easy to forget because Hakuba acts with a lot of confidence and familiarity around crime scenes, but several of his appearances highlight the way his presence is tolerated at heists because of his father’s influence and is generally seen as an outsider. The police take orders from Shinichi and look up to him for advice— it’s not quite the same with Hakuba. More often than not, Nakamori treats Hakuba like a visitor or observer than a consulting detective. All of this rambling to say that even though he presents himself that way, Hakuba isn’t (or, at least, isn’t seen as) the Holmes he admires.  

So, if not Holmes, is there anyone that suits Hakuba better?

I’d say yes and no. 

As far as I can recall, the series never makes any explicit comparisons or references to other detectives when Hakuba is concerned. That said, much like you’d associate the deerstalker and Watson to Holmes, Hakuba has some other quirks and behaviours reminiscent of other detectives. Now, I’m not here to say that Hakuba was made deliberately as a compilation of references to literary detectives. These similarities are admittedly mostly coincidences. That said, deliberate or not, I think an argument can still be made that the connections exist! And well, considering the lack of concrete information about Saguru, thinking about them is fun. So this is what I think: 

One of Hakuba’s most prominent quirks is his fixation with time and exactitude. His pocket watch is a memorable prop and being precise about minutes and seconds is an important part of his character. You can find very similar behaviour in Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot, who also carries a pocket watch around and is extremely particular about punctuality and numbers. Another thing interesting about Poirot is that he’s most interested in the psychology behind a crime, in understanding the mindset of the killer. Poirot mysteries have each of the suspects explaining their own version of events, because the detective wants to understand everyone’s version of perceiving the truth. In other words, Poirot mysteries have a focus on the whydunnit. 

You can probably tell that now I’m going to gesture wildly at Hakuba’s “Why did you do it”

Speaking of Hakuba’s signature question, it’s probably also worth mentioning the Father Brown stories by G.K Chesterton. The sleuth is a catholic priest, and after his deduction and identifying the culprit, the stories usually end with the priest spending time with the criminal. Before an arrest is made, Father Brown has a private meeting with the killer (or thief). It’s implied that this is carried out as a personal confession of sins, and expresses a need to seek out an understanding of the motive as perceived by the criminal themselves. 

I say this because the catchphrase does come off as a little strange. It’s curious that Hakuba asks why when we usually expect the detective to be able to sort it out by himself. But, it’s really not that strange to find equivalents to it in stories that focus on the psychological part of the crime and empathy towards them. 

(Also worth mentioning that both Christie and Chesterton were presidents of the Detection Club, a group of writers during the golden age of detective fiction that based their stories around the concept of “fair-play” that I mentioned earlier when I was talking about Heiji.  

Back on track: Hakuba and Poirot share key similarities. 

HOWEVER! There are also differences between them. I’m referring to the fact that Poirot puts the most emphasis on this psychological level of a crime. Poirot says “I am not one to rely upon the expert procedure. It is the psychology I seek, not the fingerprint or the cigarette ash” On the other hand, I’d argue that out of all of the Gosho boys, Hakuba is the most fastidious about procedure. He has some level of knowledge of forensic investigation and places importance upon it.

Sherlock’s methods do draw inspiration from precursors of forensic science, so you could trace it back to that. You could also go to R. Austin Freeman’s Dr. John Thorndyke, who is inspired by Holmes, but places a heavier focus on the scientific method behind deductions. Thorndyke is probably the one to properly kickstart the forensic/medical sleuth subgenre that grows later with the improvement and development of DNA evidence and technology. We have Hakuba being observant enough to find one of KID’s hairs, and then use Hakuba labs to narrow his identity down. It doesn’t resemble Poirot’s methods, it also isn’t quite Sherlockian, but it does resemble other classic british sleuths!

OKAY, COOL. WHERE ARE YOU GOING WITH THIS RAFFLES. 

I’M NOT REALLY SURE! I NEVER KNOW WHAT I’M DOING! I JUST WANTED TO TALK ABOUT HAKUBA AND DETECTIVE STORIES. 

Alright. This is more of a personal interpretation/headcanon than anything else, but unlike the other three Gosho boys, who have one  clear inspiration/basis/model, I like the idea of Hakuba reading a vast array of detective novels and picking up the little habits, methods, that he finds interesting or comforting. The deerstalker, the name for his hawk, his pocketwatch, his signature question, his methods, his knack for competition, all of them handpicked from the things that he enjoys most about detectives. 

It’s also worth mentioning that all of the authors for these stories I’m associating with Hakuba are British. The thought of him being passionate about English authors as a way to understand his English side of the family is a headcanon I quite enjoy. And, technically, the same could apply to his Japanese side as well. I can imagine young Saguru reading Rampo’s Kogoro Akechi stories and also wanting a rival like the Fiend of Twenty Faces and jumping at the chance of chasing KID because how much he resembles the character. Or appreciating Akako’s cryptic clues because Rampo’s fiction also has supernatural edge to it. 

I don’t know. I just like the idea of Saguru learning about the world, his family, and himself through literature? This is pure, unapologetic self-indulgence on my part, I have to admit. 

Though, if I HAD to assign one specific detective to Saguru, I think it would probably be Poe’s C. Auguste Dupin. Poe’s stories with the character as seen as the start of detective fiction, and Dupin serves as the prototype for detectives to come — even Holmes, even if he doesn’t get nearly as much recognition as Conan Doyle’s detective today. Despite the fact that Hakuba is the original teenage detective in the series, and he’s also often forgotten and neglected by both Gosho and a big portion of the fandom. Even so, he paved the way for Shinichi and Heiji, and is very important regardless. 

Anyway! I don’t know why I wrote this and I am now very embarrassed but thanks for reading all the way!

[sprawa-przybyszewskiej]

Ekphrasis in The Danton Case, Thermidor, and their adaptations

Ekphrasis is invoking a piece of visual media into a literary piece. It can be done for a variety of reasons, from entirely pragmatic (mostly grounding the literature in reality - if the invoked piece is a real piece of art, one you could find in a museum, for example) or more poetic (drawing some symbolic meaning between the piece of art and the idea behind the text).

In Przybyszewska's plays ekphrasis is nonexistent, at least on the foreground. I don't recall any clearly established visual, given to the readers by the original author. It's not weird in any way - how many pieces of medai do you recall which refrain from its sophisticated and additional piece of subtext and iformation? Hundreds, probably. The only other artistic thing that she has weaved into her plays is La Marseillaise, which is invoked twice in The Danton Case. There are also three book references to Othello, Orlando furioso and this one book Robespierre summarizes to Saint-Just when he's talking about hatred (but of which I have no idea if it's a real one - it probably is - or not). Other than that - nothing, plus the books count only a little, forekpfrasis should be, as I said, visual in nature.

Of course, the historical aspect of her works is what grounds them in our reality, and so cleverly, too (seeing as they're not really historical plays in any way or form, but manage to fool most anybody). And thanks to her extensive stage directions, we have no need of any additional element helping us visualize the scenes, for she does it perfectly enough on her own.

However, seein as these are plays calls for a mirror ekpfrastic effect and thus theatrical and cinematographical adapations are born. And they, on the other hand, have a potential to be filled to the brim with visual refernces. Here I would like to have a look at a few, which are taken from one of the most well known staging and the famous Wajda movie (plus some). In no particular order, there goes:

This is the very first scene of a controversial theatre adaptation of The Danton Case. Instead on portraying Robespierre as a firm leader, who only in the very end collapsed temporarily under the huge responsibility he now had to bear, the director decided to portray him as someone physically weak, not in the sense Danton meant when he called him a weakling, but in the sense of somebody who already bears so much responsibility, pain, physical ailments, doubts and whatnot. Just: everything, everythin a human could possible deal with, he deals with, and has to do so in a way that doesn't make people suspiscious about his "shortcomings". There is a interesting parallel between him and Saint-Just, whose upright and unbreakeable character is symbolised by a neck braces, something which people wear after a spine endangering accidents - and incidentally, wasn't it Saint-Just who accused Robespierre of "breaking his spine"? But not in this adaptation, oh no - here their very last scene is cut extremely short and they recite the last few sentences along with some Thermidor lines as two floating heads, a vision into the future which awaits them.

Enough about Saint-Just, though, let's focus on Robespierre and Marat. I must admit I know next to nothing about him, only what some passage here and there in this or that historical study might tell me, but I know, as does everybody, that he was known as L'ami du Peuple, which is why of the reasons, I think, why the director took this image and transposed it onto Robespierre: to make him even more likeable, to show for the umpteenth time that it is Robespierre whom we should cheer on and whom we should feel sorry for. This might also be a parallel between their both's tarnished health, their premature deaths and - last but not least - the role of an icon of the Rvolution both of them play in nowadays' audience's minds. You don't have to study history to knowwho Robespierre was, you don't have to study art to know this painting. Even if you don't agree with some more in-depth explanation of linking this person to this painting, it is a good opening image. It captures our attention in a good way.

I had mention Saint-Just and there he is, in the background of the picture, symbolically assisting Danton and his clique in their last moments. Instead of shwoign them in torn shirts, the director went into another direction altogether and enshrouded them in white sheets from heads to toes, making them all look like very stereotypical ghosts, whom they will all become in just a couple of moments.

In Polish culture, the first thing that comes to mind when talking about ghosts is Dziady, an old slavic tradition that is now replaced with the Catholic All Souls Eve. Dziady is no longer, apart from perhaps some small minorities who still practice old pagan faiths, but as a ritual, they are immortalised in a play by Adam Mickiewicz, undoubtedly the greatest Polish poet ever. Everybody know this play, some scens - by heart, and they were and are being staged pretty much constantly from one point on. Needless to say, they inspire a lot of art, and I decided to show this very fmous poster by the most famous Polish poster designer, Franciszek Starowieyski…

…who is important in this case, because he played David in Wajda's movie.

Not many people know - because his other carreer overshadowed by a lot his first one - that Wajda was a painter. Who actually hated his art, some of his pieces are in the national museum of contemporary art in Łódź alongside stars such as Władysław Strzemiński (the hero of Wajda's very last movie), which is a fact he absolutely detested. I dont know, nor do I care, why was that, because what matters is his previous education as an artist at the very least helped him not only to envision the visuals of the movie, but also acquainted him with great works of art. On which he could model this or that setup. I think it's a nice little detail he catsed Starowieyski as David, a real painter acting as another real painter, it adds a layer of reality onto the movie, and presumably makes for a more natural acting in the few scenes he was in his studio (I also think they look alike).

Speaking of David's studio, I once stumbled upon a lecture which drew parallels between some scenes in the movie and some paitings, which was mostly focused on character and costume design, and truth be told didn't contribute much to the overall watching experience of Danton. However, I must admit the lecturer had a very good eye in this one particular case, in which he pointed out that this quick shot in David's studio pretty obviously invokes the Fussli's The Artist's Despair Before The Grandeur Of Ancient Ruins. I don't think it's a coincidence (or at the very least, would be funny if it were) this shot is shown during the scene where Robespierre starts to grasp at desperate measures to save the country/save his own face in the trial. It is an artist's despair, only artist of a different kind. And it is a despair when being faced with a (possible) ruin of something great, even if its greatness is not yet formed, as opposed to the greatness passed.

The very last example I was able to think of was this photo I found of The Danton Case from 1975. It is one of those old, very classical (I presume) adaptations, which are mostly filled to the brim with riddiculosly attractive people and very often deliberately drew from other sources of artistry, like the one pictured above. No matter what the real relationship between Louise Danton and her husband was, in the play it is portrayed as something atrocious, and I cringe whenever directors try to make it something else without good reasons for doing so, so I am very glad in the past at least they stuck with classicaly depicted acts of violation against women, not because it is a violation, but because in the classical stories (like the myth of Persephone shown in the sculpture above) the woman will usually get her revenge. Just like Przybyszewska's Louison did.

Thank you for bearing with me until the end, and if you have any other examples of this come to your mind, I compel you to share them with me!

List of pieces of art in the order of their appearance:

Jacques-Louis David, The Death of Marat

Franciszek Starowieyski, Dziady

Jacques-Louis David, Self-portrait

Heinrich Fussli, The Artist's Despair Before The Grandeur Of Ancient Ruins

Gianlorenzo Bernini, The Rape Of Persephone

[insingersfall]

Are dreamers descendants to fallen angels?

So I’ve been thinking a lot about the origin of dreamers, especially in relation to Ronan’s faith and his anxiety about creating life - a job he feels should be exclusive to God.

This is going to be long so the short story: Maybe dreamers are descendants to fallen angels?

Here’s my long ass thesis on why I think so:

Since CDTH I’ve seen this quote a lot:

In a wider sense it doesn’t have to mean anything, just a powerful ending to Bryde’s cheesy monologue about Ronan being too good for basic humanity, but I immediately read it literally.

-       do you long back?

And just two pages afterwards we get this:

Coincidence? I think not.

Bryde knows what Ronan is and where he comes from - the sky.

The question of “what am I” is something Ronan struggles with during the entire course of TRC and a vital part of his storyline.

And it’s always this:

Not who am I, What am I.

During the first four books Ronan struggles both with this huge existential dilemma of “what” and with more mundane questions regarding “who” he is. I think Ronan’s coming of age-arc, especially the “why do you hate yourself”/ “I don’t” - scene in TRK is one of the most moving scenes in YA. I read that as being about “who” he is. And In CDTH he’s older, he’s figured a lot of shit out. There are no negative feelings left about him being gay for example. Not in relation to his family, himself or to his religion.

But he still has a lot of negative feelings and anxiety about being able to create life. He still struggles with his identity as a dreamer alongside his identity as a catholic.

Ronan being religious adds so much to his character and this is why I can’t help but read A LOT into the religious symbolism. And it’s there.

Maggie herself posted this a while ago to clear up why Ronan gets so mad in BLLB when the copy of him dies. It clarifies multiple things - that Ronan is very much stuck in toxic masculinity and refuses to show vulnerability while also being very vulnerable, as well as how the situation mirrors his suicide-attempt, which is obviously triggering. But for this theme I want to highlight these two paragraphs:

“First, the setting. Adam is not religious, but Ronan is, and St. Agnes is a place he goes with the broken remains of his family. Now Ronan takes Adam — someone Ronan has only just allowed himself to admit internally that he likes, a lot — not just to the church, but to a private part of the church Ronan frequents on his own. “

And

“But to Ronan, it’s not just a copy. It’s a person who just happens to look like him. Remember that Ronan has spent his life loving dreamed people just as hard as real people. Ronan has spent enough time with Matthew and Aurora to know that even though they came from dreams, their feelings are real. They are not disposable. This other Ronan is really terrified, really in pain, and really dying.

And the real Ronan killed him. He’s killed someone.”

This is one of the very few times Maggie has explained something that isn’t explicit in the book. As we know Maggie is a major spokesperson for “the only things canon are the things in the book” but here she adds additional information. Why? Because it’s really, really important to Ronan’s character. Both the religion and his feelings about creating life. Especially these two combined.

He hates himself for a lot of things, and he hates himself for the ability to create -and therefore take away- life. Something only God is allowed to do.

Well yes Adam, maybe there are two gods in this church. Or something like it.

So - fallen angels? What does that mean really?

The story of fallen angels differ a lot from religion to religion, I’ll focus on the Christian tradition since that’s what our lord and savior Ronan Lynch would like. There isn’t a lot of Bible stories about it, it’s more of a tradition arising from later accounts in religious texts and poetry.

The Devil is a fallen angel who together with a bunch of other angels rebelled against God and was expelled from Heaven to Earth.

In some older interpretations the “angels” on Earth had children with humans and created giants, who in time became demons. Or, if you’re writing YA fantasy with a religious MC, maybe these descendants of angels became dreamers.

Lucifer rebelled against God because he too wanted the power that God possessed.

“Lucifer apparently became so impressed with his own beauty, intelligence, power, and position that he began to desire for himself the honor and glory that belonged to God alone. The sin that corrupted Lucifer was self-generated pride.” 

I sure think that sounds like Bryde, and it sounds a lot like the sin Ronan fears God will judge him for.

And on the subject of the Devil. Who in this series is often referred to as a “devil of a boy?”

It’s our man, Ronan.

A quick search of the word “Devil” in the Raven Cycle (1-4) led me to a number of passages, mostly as part of a saying, but at some occasion to specifically describe someone, or as a direct reference to someone.

Ronan, Niall, Kavinsky and Aurora. Dreamers and their dreams.

Coincidence? I think not.

The same search in Call Down the Hawk I would say really confirms this recognition of mine. It has for starters this wonderful paragraph:

But it also broadens the parable to all of the Lynch brothers.

The upper quote about the three brothers all being handsome devils is the only time not even Matthew can avoid the metaphor. A character who up until then has only been compared to an angel.

Contradiction? No, not in the question of descendants to fallen angels.

A creature who are - by definition - both angel and devil, savior and sinner, companion of God as well as a child of Satan.

We don’t know for sure yet how one becomes a dreamer. But we do know that it in some way it’s inherited. In some peculiar way from parent to child. From one devil father to one of his devil sons, the one he created together with another one of his creations. Because Ronan therefore is a clone of Niall? Is Hennessy a clone of her mother? Kavinsky one of his parents? Maybe the next two books will tell. Regardless I still like the idea that they all descend from the first angels on earth, mixing with humans.

I also just have to mention that Ronan not only dream of the sky, but also on multiple occasions dream about flying. Not as a bird, but with his own wings.

So what do I think this will mean in the big scheme of things?

Not a lot honestly! I’m not even sure I’m arguing that this will be a plot point.

But I do think the paradoxical identity in descending from something so torn between good/evil is fucking perfect for Ronan. Someone who’s constantly torn between his own fuck-ups and wanting to do the right thing.

Who creates marvelous life in form of magical animals, angelic brothers and light where there needs to be light, but who also creates monsters, horrors and dangers.

Who wants to protect the world from climate change and protect the people he loves from danger and for all we know might instead accidentally end the world.

Who turns to God and fears hell at the same time as he’s presenting himself to the world as a devil of a boy.

I just think it’s beautiful, whether Maggie has a storyline planned with this or not.

So I’ll just end this thread with the upper picture and with the quote describing Ronans’ birth.

[whispsofwind]

After talking about it with @nicnacsnonsense, we decided to continue the conversation started here about Brother Francis and Nanny Ashtoreth in the book. Just for fun!

(For context, my thesis is that Francis and Ashtoreth were Aziraphale and Crowley in the book as well, while theirs is that they were originally separated characters who got cut for adaptation purposes. I think both interpretations are valid but it's a lot of fun to argue my point, and a good exercise in English writing too! Obviously this all also apply to Harrison and Cortese, I just didn't want to repeat all the names every time).

Nic, what you said in the last reblog makes a lot of sense, and raises a few points I hadn’t thought about, mainly that Crowley and Aziraphale watching over Warlock is technically a Heaven/Hell sanctioned activity, and therefore it does make sense that they would receive resources to do so. More sense than I thought originally. The fact that they make a big show about Shadwell could simply be because Shadwell is the one contact unrelated to Heaven and Hell. It all makes lots of sense, I admit.

However, it’s still not enough to change my mind, mostly because the inclusion of a middle man makes Aziraphale and Crowley basically superfluous to the narrative.

If Hell was always going to send people to educate Warlock, and Heaven could be so easily persuaded to send people of their own to educate Warlock, Aziraphale and Crowley’s plan becomes a bit too thin for my taste. Yes, it's true that the book is an ensemble novel where they play quite a small part, but if they were just making minor tweaks the the preexisting Heaven and Hell's school programs, they kind of end up doing almost nothing at all.

What I mean is, coordinating each other’s efforts just isn’t much, if Hell is already teaching Warlock Evil, and Heaven is teaching Warlock Good.

And yes, part of the novel pokes fun at how ineffectual Aziraphale and Crowley are, but it just seems so unfitting to me that their Big Plan to Save the World was basically ‘convince Heaven to send their people as well’.

I also wonder why would Heaven and Hell be so eager to actually give their field agents a whole team. Aziraphale and Crowley are already the designated agents on Earth and don’t really need underlings to do this particular job. And while Heaven and Hell both care a lot about obedience, delegating the education of the Antichrist to other people, even obedient people, still seems like a bad move for someone hoping to shape said Antichrist’s worldviews. Including a middle man (or, multiple middle men and a middle woman) seems to complicate things needlessly, and makes it much more risky, I think.

Not to mention, basing their entire plan on the reports and the obedience of subordinates seems a bit of a hazard, when both Aziraphale and Crowley know perfectly well how easy it is to trick your boss into believing you’re actually doing your job. They would have to control every move Ashtoreth and Francis do just to be sure everything is actually going according to the plan, which rather defeats the point of having underlings to begin with.

Plus, there’s the very real risk of Ashtoreth revealing that Heaven is interfering with the Antichrist’s upbringing. I am simply not convinced that Hell was aware of that: wouldn’t they object, even just out of principles? The Antichrist is their business, after all. And Ashtoreth is clearly very aware of Francis's presence. (Ok this one is a bit of a stretch but throwing it out there).

And finally, there's the very simple fact that inserting the Nanny, gardener and tutors to the narrative doesn't really add anything. Their narrative purpose can easily be filled by Aziraphale and Crowley, making these 4 characters completely superfluous. That just doesn't sit right with me, in a novel where even the Four Other Horsemen do have a narrative purpose, a comedic tool that then goes on to show how dangerous and inhuman the Horsepeople are.

The one narrative purpose Ashtoreth and Francis could fill is, I think, the Cold War metaphor, with the two Sides sending actual teams to help their agents out on an important work. But, at the same time, there's a strong sense that Aziraphale and Crowley are the equivalent of two field agents in a very remote, isolated outpost. Sending more people doesn't seem fitting to me, when you have a perfectly good agent already assigned to the case.

The text is very ambiguous though, I’m the first to admit that. I re read those pages, and some vocabulary seems... well, not purposely misleading, but very open to interpretation.

The verb ‘oversee’ when they talk about educating Warlock suggests an indirect role, but then they use the word ‘godfathers’, and godfathers are traditionally supposed to have a hands on approach (at least in the catholic rite, a godfather promises to actively help raise the child and take care of the religious upbringing).

Crowley watches Mary Poppins to prepare himself, which could suggest he was trying to get into the part... or maybe he just wanted to know how to consuel Nanny properly (then again, if Hell is sending another agent for this precise purpose, shouldn't she be better at this than Crowley?)

You have Aziraphale’s line about his “little team”, heavily implying there are different people involved... or maybe it was a tongue-in-check joke about how good an actor he is.

Then there's Rover (good puppy who helped me find the passage), whose simple presence kind of suggests Crowley can't be Ashtoreth, because Crowley doesn't have a Hellhound. But then again, Mary Poppins talks with a puppy, and Hell may have ordered Crowley to expose the Antichrist to a Hellhound in his most formative years.

So, I don't think there's any actual proof in the text. But maybe it’s just me overthinking the joke???

So yeah, to sum it up, I think that for me the deal breaker is the very idea of delegating the raising the Antichrist to others, when there's not a specific need to delegate it, and plenty of reasons not to :D

[lordeasriel]

Idk if you really do meta so no worries if not but I’ve been studying loads of Arab history recently and I keep thinking about the magisterium and how it would interact with other world religions. Like the Arab world and Islam must still exist, and be close by. In the secret commonwealth there is a little bit of this but not loads. Just wondering what your thoughts are?

Oh, yes I absolutely do meta! lmao That’s basically all I do in this fandom! Thank you for the ask, I’ve given this theme some thought before, but never wrote it down.

First, I just want to say that my understanding of Islam is not extensive at all - we do not have a big muslim community in Brasil, especially not in my city which is super small - and despite all my research, it’s not enough to go super in-depth in the nuances of it. So, if you or anyone wants to add to this post, please feel free and encouraged to do so. I’m gonna offer you simply a very broad cultural take on the Magisterium and how it reacts to most religions.

I’m fairly certain Islam exists in Lyra’s world, tho. It’s not openly said so, but there are many instances in TSC that suggests so; what we don’t know is to which extent it exists. There is a direct mention to a niqab and there is a mention of a woman in Smyrna also wearing a headscarf (probably a hijab, maybe? there’s not a lot to tell), and as far as my knowledge goes, these are Arabic cultural/religious items. So, we know at least this part of the culture is there.

Something to keep in mind about Lyra’s world is that it’s a full-on globe, much like ours; that seems dumb when I say it lol but my point is, it’s too big for the Magisterium to reign alone as the sole master of religion with Christianity. Even in our world, the Catholic Church struggled in endless crusades against several different religions, including their own infighting over different variations of Christianity, and despite their best efforts, many religions still exist - some of them small, yes, and damaged by their influence.

There are far too many different cultures in the entire world for a single religion to successfully overtake the entire population. Human beings are so ridiculous random that some of us don’t even partake in religion, so it’s hard to see Christianity as almighty. It is, however, in Lyra’s world, a lot more powerful (think the Mighty Age of the Church in the past, when they consorted with entire kingdoms and their kings and controlled most aspects of life) and therefore it creates this idea of ‘they are alone in their power’. They’re definitely not, the Witches alone prove that; they have their own religion and gods. So do the bears. Their fantasy vibes conceal their cultural variation, but they are part of the world regardless, some of the witches even being pro-Magisterium. Again, random people being random.

Aside from these cultural groups, the general human population has the atheists, which are a divergent religious opinion as well and obviously, the Magisterium tries to suppress them hard - as they offer a lot of resistance to the dogma by improving science. By being more politically involved, the Church succeeds in controlling scientific progress, but still encounters resistance everywhere, no matter how feeble it is (yay, Oakley Street!). And the gyptians with their own secret commonwealth associations also suffer censorship and persecution, so the same probably happened with most religions.

Islam is not a small religion, and it’s also very old in terms of how long its been known to exist, so for it to seem so watered down to a simple cultural lifestyle (at least from what we see in TSC, with the dress ‘code’, I’m not sure if that’s the exact term for the niqab use, sorry if it’s not)  probably means that the Magisterium succeeded in fighting its influence very strongly (probably the Crusades, I’m not super familiar with that subject either). That’s either before or after it became the Magisterium, since we can assume the Church was vaguely similar to our world’s version of it, up until John Calvin’s papacy and the Magisterium’s foundation. And because they succeeded, they managed to contain the strength of Islam and keep it mostly isolated from the Magisterium’s power region which is the entire Europe, pretty much. (we have little information on Africa, and we know next to nothing about the Americas and Oceania, so I assume the Church had different degrees of influence in these areas).

But as we move through the Levant in TSC, it’s possible to see how fragmented their influence seems to be depending on the country. They have the Patriarch’s group in Constantinople, but that is still very, very close to Europe, in a way (I mean it is Europe but also Asia, geography is not my strongest trait lmao). But as Lyra goes deeper and deeper, the less we see official ‘civilised’ Magisterium groups (like La Maison Juste or any types of priories or anything dogmatic) - we mostly see military forces spread thin (mostly and more likely CCD), which to me just seems like their way of trying to enforce the idea of their might to muslim people in the region. However, they don’t seem to have a strong hold on the region and the further you go to Asia, I believe you’d find a very widespread community of people who follow the Islam and not Christianity.

One thing though, is that I think that these major religions (according to wikipedia lol): Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism; they are all confined somewhat to specific areas instead of being spread like they are in our world. You wouldn’t find nowhere near as many muslins and buddhists in Central Europe, Western Europe as you would in the Middle East, for example. And this is because Lyra’s world is yet to suffer from a globalization process, (easier transport, communication system, culture assimilation) they are outdated, including the fact that the world seems to be set somewhere between end of Victorian period (late 1800s) up to the 50s, and according to estimates, the world population in 1950 was around 2.5 billion people as opposed to our 7 billion in 2020. So, it’s a lot less people, most of them very spread across the globe, these are all things to consider when thinking about how the Magisterium would handle these things.

China (The Celestial Empire of Cathay and Manchuria in Lyra’s world) is said to be a huuuuuuuuge empire, and they are also implied to be very lethargic politically, which means they probably isolated themselves keeping their own religion and culture very tightly away from the Magisterium. There is a passage about how it is believed the Emperor wouldn’t care much, because he was old and/or sick, if and when the Magisterium invaded the Karamakan desert,  which is a Chinese territory, with several different nationalities of armies. So there is a lot to consider, but I think this gives room for us to see that the Magisterium is not entirely as almighty as it seems or as it tries to look like it is. Its reach has flaws and it mostly seems to operate in Europe and Europe-close regions, such as Northern Africa and parts of Asia.

So, I do think other religions still exist in Lyra’s world - despite not many being mentioned at all - and smaller religions like Judaism and Sikhism, for example, were probably persecuted a lot more due to their status, but in general I don’t believe any of them were entirely erradicated, despite, of course, being oppressed by the Magisterium.

[alarawriting]

Writeober #3: Bone

Gerlach Schwartztern cackled maniacally as he felt the bindings keeping him out of the world faltering. He had expected this, ever since he’d seen that the historical building where the ritual had been performed was scheduled to be knocked down. There had been three days of demolition, and finally, the sacred circle at the center had been breached. He was free!

“Hey! You! This is a hardhat area! You can’t be in here!”

Gerlach shuffled around – being bound out of reality, able only to see what was transpiring, without having muscles to move, had done no good for his physique, and all his muscles were stiff beyond belief – to see a man in a bright yellow helmet and a shining orange vest, yelling at him.

“Dost thou know to whom thou speaketh?” he said, smiling cruelly, raising his own bony fingers as he prepared to teach the fool a lesson.

“Come on, asshole. Don’t give me that Scadian shit,” the man said. “You need to get off the grounds. It’s not safe.”

“Unsafe for whom?” Gerlach laughed, and reached out with his power. He called out to the dead buried below and all around to rise from their graves.

Nothing happened.

“Unsafe for you, asshole. You. Did I stutter? Get the hell out of here before I have to call the cops.”

Where were the dead?

Now that he was looking for them, he couldn’t feel them. In the Old World, there had been skeletons everywhere. But he’d had to flee the witchfinders – not the idiots who accused old women with black cats and herbal knowledge of being witches, but the ones with real power, who hunted those with real magic – so he’d taken passage to the New World, four hundred years ago.

Life was hard, then. Many colonists died, and their skeletons became his servants. He’d terrorized the colonists and the natives alike… until mages of both groups had teamed up against him. The natives had used their magic to confine him within a single town, herding him to the colonist mages, who’d bound him and locked him outside the world so long as the runes and symbols they’d carved in the stone under a church floor remained intact.

Now that the church was demolished, and the stone broken, Gerlach was free. He’d been able to see the world from his prison outside it; he’d seen the population explode. Surely the dead must be everywhere! People still died in this brave new world, did they not?

“Very well, knave. I shall leave, if you direct me to a graveyard.”

The man in the yellow hat sighed. “I don’t have to do this,” he said. “You’ve been an ass. But fine. The new church that replaced this one is about two miles down the road, and it has a graveyard. I think you have to turn right on Whitman – or I dunno, maybe it’s Baker? One of those streets. Go in about three blocks, you’ll find the church, and the graveyard’s across the street.”

“Then there I shall go,” Gerlach said, picking up his robes – they were dragging in the dust of the construction – and walking toward the gate in the fence. An interesting fence, that, made of wires woven together loosely.

“Thank you is a thing, asshole!” the man called after him, but Gerlach did not thank his inferiors.

***

It took far longer to find the church than the knave’s directions suggested. Gerlach was calling down curses on the man’s entire family unto the seventh generation by the time he finally found it, his legs and feet screaming at him for making them perform so much work after just being embodied again.

But there it was. The graveyard. And now he could feel the dead, lurking below, waiting for his call. With them at his command, he would rule over this town – and others. As the dead came to answer him, he would grow in power, and he would be able to call more and more of them as his power expanded. Eventually he would rule over this entire nation. Perhaps even the world.

Gerlach took a deep breath, and then called to the dead.

He felt them respond, felt skeletons restless in coffins push against the lids.

And push.

And push.

“What transpires here?” he roared. “You should be rising from your graves! I have called you, and you must come!”

Skeletons still pushed against coffin lids.

“Why can you not come forth?!”

Some skeletons broke their wrists and fingers trying to push open their coffin lids. None of them succeeded in actually opening anything.

Gerlach tried for hours. And then he walked to another graveyard and tried again. Still the dead could not open their coffins. Gerlach was furious. Back in the Old World, only the most wealthy had even had coffins. And they were decorated wooden boxes that a sufficiently motivated skeleton could punch through. Here in the New World, four hundred years after arriving, apparently skeletons were all contained in unbreakable coffins.

He sank to his knees on the ground and screamed, his dreams of conquest dying just like the skeletons trapped in unbreakable coffins, and just as unlikely to rise under his power.

***

Elias Whittaker was furious.

The city had concealed the plans to demolish the old church until he was out of the country, and then gone through with the destruction. He hadn’t known about it until his daughter drove by the place and saw it destroyed. It had been a month.

None of the records of the Whittaker family, passed down from father to son (or daughter in some cases), had said anything about Gerlach Schwarztern being a patient and crafty man. A brilliant necromancer, yes, but he’d named himself Black Star in German for gods’ sake. He was not the type to lay low. So why hadn’t the city fallen to walking skeletons yet?

Could it be that Schwarztern had died in his prison, or perhaps died the moment he re-entered the world and time began for him again? Maybe all the aging he hadn’t done while he was trapped caught up with him at once.

But Elias didn’t think that was likely. From everything he’d read in the family tomes, carefully preserved for four hundred years, the crafters of the spell hadn’t thought it would do that. They had warned, over and over, of the danger should the binding circle they’d carved into the rock ever break or wear. All of them had passed on the knowledge to their children, but between illness, war, and adult children’s desire to strike out west to make a new life for themselves, far away from their parents… Now the Whittaker family was the only one left.

Elias had been on the Board for Historical Preservation, had argued for years that that tiny run-down little church needed to be preserved exactly as the city’s founders had left it, that it was nearly 400 years old and was a view backward into a past that America had almost lost, the early days of the colonies. And what happened? The moment he was out of the country, the rest of the Board caved in like a wet tissue and let the city government have its way. They were going to put up some mixed-use development there, townhomes and offices and retail all mixed together, somehow. And that was worth letting an ancient necromancer free in a world where almost no one remembered that magic existed, or how to invoke it. Right.

But there was nothing Elias could find to indicate that Schwartztern had escaped. No graveyards were disturbed. No records of dead people getting up and walking. No disturbances at the morgue.

His daughter Rebecca found something—a record of an old man who’d been caught in the Jewish graveyard, obviously digging up graves because several graves had shown signs that the dirt had been interfered with, holes and clods and piles of dirt all over the graves. The elderly caretaker for the graveyard was still spry enough to shoot at an anti-Semite committing a hate crime, though. Rebecca reported that the old caretaker didn’t know if he’d actually hit the man in the tattered black coat or not, but that if he had, he must have only winged him, because the man had run without sign of injury. Since then, members of the Jewish community had been taking turns helping him guard the graveyard, with their own guns, and there had been no further disturbance.

Oddly, the fellow hadn’t left a shovel behind, but Ira Friedburg, the caretaker, had never seen him carrying one, either. Maybe it was under his coat, and the bullet had hit it instead of the man.

Of course, Elias knew why Schwartztern hadn’t needed a shovel. The graves had been disturbed from the inside. But why had the Jewish graveyard been affected, and not the much less well-guarded Catholic and Protestant ones? Schwartztern might well have been an anti-Semite, considering that in that time period almost everyone was, but he had never shown a preference for any specific type of corpse.

For the first time in his life Elias was grateful for the Second Amendment. Gerlach couldn’t know of any firearm technology more advanced than maybe a musket. A small weapon that fired deadly ammunition with terrifying accuracy and speed was nothing Gerlach Schwartztern could have any experience with. And the Jewish graveyard had suffered enough hate crimes that the caretaker patrolled it with a gun, regularly, and was small enough that Schwartztern hadn’t managed to raise a single body before being caught at it.

It was frustrating and maddening. He searched for three months. No sign of Schwartztern anywhere. Had the man left town? Was he right now trying to raise the dead in New York City or Washington DC or something? Had he returned to his homeland? Wait, no, he couldn’t have done that without a passport.

In desperation Elias started going around to funeral homes, asking them if they’d seen a man of Schwartztern’s description – long graying hair, a long beard, pale skin, aquiline features, crooked teeth. None of them had.

Until Elias went to Baron and Sons Funeral Home, and was met at the door by a man who looked exactly like the portraits of Schwartztern that had been passed down, if the man had gotten a modern haircut, a shave, and gotten his teeth straightened.

Elias’ eyes widened. “Gerlach Schwartztern?”

The man looked surprised. “There’s not many who know me by that name,” he said, and called back into the funeral home. “Mr. Baron, there’s a man here who wants to speak to me specifically. I’ll take a break to talk to him and then return to the clock.”

“Sure, that sounds fine,” a man’s voice called back.

“How are you – Why are you – What, did you find religion while you were trapped? You were freed almost four months ago,” Elias hissed. “But you’ve raised nothing.”

“Not entirely true,” Schwartztern said. He had a thick accent, but it wasn’t quite placeable – which made sense, because it was from another country 400 years ago. His English, though, sounded plausibly modern for a foreigner. “Let us walk to the back.”

“Where the graves are, and where you can attack me?” Elias snapped.

Schwartztern shook his head. “There is a contemplation garden for the grieving. No funerals are scheduled now, so it is unoccupied. We can talk without interruption.”

Oh. Right. There wasn’t a cemetery anywhere near the funeral home. That was why funeral processions were a thing. He followed the ancient necromancer, bemused, to the garden. “Did you forget your powers? Or lose them?”

“I assume from your knowledge of my name that you were one of the guardians my captors must have left behind to keep me contained,” Schwartztern said. “You may call me Gerlach Schwartz now, though. Or simply Gerlach. Apparently this new age is one of great informality. And yet they don’t even use ‘thou’ anymore.”

“Uh, yeah, we got rid of that a while back,” Elias said. “And you’re correct. My family has been keeping watch. Everything I’ve read said to expect an insane necromancer who would do anything to rule over the living with the power of the dead. But here you are in a building with… maybe two dead people?”

“There are four corpses here, in fact, but you’re correct. Four corpses is far from enough to conquer a town with.”

“What happened?”

“Modern caskets,” Gerlach said simply. “In my day, only the wealthy were even interred in a coffin; most bodies were lowered into the bare ground. Apparently since that time everyone who dies is buried in an impregnable sepulcher called a ‘casket’, or they are burned to ash… except for the Jews, who bury their dead in wooden boxes that I could at least work with, before the Jew fired his weapon at me.”

He shook his head. “The weapons they have in this time! It would never work, raising the dead, not now. I have been watching some of their movies—” He put a strange emphasis on the word. “So many tales of dead rising and biting the living to make them a risen corpse as well. And in these tales, everyone has one of these terrifying weapons, and they can entirely destroy a corpse with them. Perhaps a skeleton would be more difficult to hit, but with sufficient ordinance, they would prevail over my skeletons as well. The creators of these tales added the part where the dead can bite and their bite kills to make it a believable tragedy, else none would believe that enough firepower could not overwhelm even the dead.”

Elias rather thought no one had done anything to the plots of zombie movies to make them believable, but he could see how a necromancer might have a different opinion. “So you’re telling me you’ve given up. That I don’t need to kill you or capture you because you aren’t interested in raising the dead to conquer, anymore.”

Gerlach laughed. “Interested, perhaps. But it will not work, and this I now know. There are far more dead today, but that is because there are far, far more living, and they greatly outnumber the dead. Most of the dead are locked away in boxes far too strong for a skeleton to break open. I know, for I have made them try, and try again.” He shrugged. “So it is not practical. And it is also hardly necessary.”

“Why unnecessary?”

“Men live like kings in your time, young man.” Elias was not a young man – he might actually be older than Gerlach was when he was trapped – but this didn’t seem like something worth arguing to a man born over 450 years ago. “You need no servants to bring you hot water for your bath – simply turn a knob, and hot water comes forth! Food of any kind can be had at any time, no matter the season! Music can play anywhere, whether musicians are there to play it, or not. Entertainments as rich as the plays put on for kings can play endlessly, never repeating, on a box of light in your home – a home which is heated in the winter and cooled in the summer, and both are done evenly, throughout the home, without risk of fire. And there are treatments for lice.”

That explained the shorter hair. “So you’re, what? Trying to be a good tax-paying citizen now?”

“I am told there will be great, great difficulties in becoming a citizen, as I cannot present papers to prove what nation I was born in, or what date, or when I came to this land. Apparently I am an ‘illegal immigrant’, and if I am found by the authorities, they will deport me… somewhere. Since my own nationality no longer even exists, I have no idea where. But my employers here are sympathetic.” He nodded at the funeral home. “I came here because I thought the presence of the dead plus the title Baron meant another necromancer was here, but that was not the case… as I suspect you know well. They’ve arranged for me to work here and learn their trade, for there are many techniques of preserving the dead that exist now but did not, in my day. Apparently they are paying me ‘under the table’, an expression I understand not, except to say it is a means of paying one with no papers to prove their identity.”

“It means they’re paying you in cash and not taking out your taxes, so I guess you’re not a taxpayer after all.”

“In my day, taxes were paid in grain.”

“Sometimes money is referred to as ‘bread’ in this day and age, but the days when you could actually pay tax in grain are long behind us.”

“I do realize that,” Gerlach said. “Have I satisfied your curiosity? Do you understand now that I present no threat to your world?”

“And you use your necromancy here?”

“As God witness, no, why would I do that? They have techniques for moving bodies and they know nothing of magic. If I were to use the power I have over the dead, now, it would perhaps be as a detective, who can hunt down dead bodies after they are murdered and hidden away by the murderer. I have watched many entertainments about detectives,” he said, in a tone as if he were telling a salacious secret. “In my day the profession didn’t exist, but today it seems a very popular job. I wonder that any murderers can go free, with so many detectives.”

“It’s… not actually that popular in real life. People just like stories about detectives. They like to see a mystery presented to them, so they can try to solve it, or enjoy watching the detective solve it.”

“Ah. Well, I have much to learn about this new world before I dare leave this job,” Gerlach said. “They provide me with a room here to live in, upstairs, but for food and clothing and a box for entertainments I must pay my own way.”

Elias shook his head in complete bemusement. All of the effort he’d put into, his whole life, to keep the necromancer contained, and this was what Gerlach did when he got free. “Well, there’s nothing I can charge you with and nothing you’re doing that warrants my interference… but I will be watching you.”

“That would be delightful!” Gerlach said. “It grows tedious sometimes, to have no acquaintances I can share knowledge of the past with, or my necromancy. You would make an excellent companion!”

I have worked all my life to keep this man in prison and he wants to be my friend. Well, it would help Elias make sure that Gerlach was continuing to not be a threat. “Fine, I’ll come take you out to lunch sometime.”

“I look forward to it greatly!”

As Elias left, he wondered how he was going to explain any of this to Rebecca.

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

From @writing-prompt-s, “ An ancient evil awakens to destroy humanity, only to find out he is no match for modern technology, thus forcing him to become a functioning member of society. “

[thebestpersonherelovesbucky]

Some of you might remember about two months ago when I needed to vent about my horrible bitch face cousin, Barbara. 

Well.

I need to vent again.

Yesterday was my aunt’s funeral/memorial. It was an extremely emotional day. Top off with a lovely serving of “are you fucking kidding me?”. 

Let’s start off with our arrival at the church. On the positive side, despite the pandemic, there was an overwhelming turnout. So many people loved this woman. 

The first person we’re greeted by is Barbara’s brother; let’s call him Paschall. I haven’t seen him in several years. I could be mad about that, but I’m not cause he’s sort of just an airhead who means well and has admitted that it was wrong that no one ever came to help us with our grandmother. We hug. I hold him as he starts to cry.

Next, I see Barbara’s older sister ((the oldest of the three)) who we’ll call Rachel. Rachel hugs me and tells me she loves my hair ((it’s currently violet)).

This is all in the lobby of the church where there are poster boards with pictures of my aunt. We’ll...get back to those.

Finally, we meet up with Barbara. 

This is the first time we have any interaction with her since my first venting post about the situation. But the day was not about her ((or so we thought)) and we approach her with kindness and sympathy, which she receives the way any nice person might. We hug. She tells us that we should sit up in the front bc we’re family. ((very kind of her, right?))

But we go and up in front of the altar, where the urn would be placed, were more pictures. One of just my aunt. One of her and my uncle’s wedding. And one of her and Barbara. JUST HER AND BARBARA. Not a picture of her and all three of her children. Just her and Barbara. 

The mass starts ((Catholic)) and the procession is made up of Paschall, one of Barbara’s sons...and her fucking husband. 

Now, I don’t want to just to conclusions. I think to myself, well, maybe they asked Dad if he would be part of it and he was too upset to do it. But...nope. No, no. Barbara, who basically took over and in my uncle’s grief, took advantage and just made everything to her specifications, had her son and her husband over my aunt’s fucking brother in the service. 

For those of you not familiar with a Catholic Mass/funeral, it typically involves 3 people giving readings (the first reading from the Old Testament, a psalm, the second reading from the New Testament), the Priest reading a passage from the Gospel and He then gives His homily/sermon. The first three readings, in a service such as this, are usually done by members of the deceased family. The surviving family members ask someone to read and it’s actually an honor to be asked. 

The people who read were a niece from my uncle’s side of the family, a friend of their family, and a nephew from my uncle’s side of the family.

I am 100% not saying that my uncle’s side of their family is any less part of her family than ours, but...my siblings and I are her brother’s children. I’m her goddaughter. We weren’t asked to do anything. 

And my youngest sister is an accomplished singer. She’s sung as baseball games and other events. We thought the young girl singing in church just happened to sing at the church. 

Nope. 

No, she was the daughter of Barbara’s friend.

During the Priest’s sermon, he never mentioned our side of the family once. Obviously, this is not his fault if he was not made aware of us, but he kept referring to my aunt as a wife, a mother, and a friend. She was my father’s sister. And her mother is still alive, albeit sick with dementia and in a nursing home and doesn’t even know any of us anymore, and we’re still trying to heal from caretaker burnout but...never mentioned her. 

Because of social distancing, we were sitting behind my parents and I could see how my father was visibly hurt more and more as the service went on.

And just guess who gave the Eulogy? Go on! Guess! I bet you only need one try! 

BARBARA!!!

And she continued to make it ALL.ABOUT.HER. She barely mentioned her siblings, she talked about her husband and her children, and she couldn’t even be bothered to mention my father by name the one time she said anything about him. Which was, and I quote “she spent time in the summers with her brother.” 

As if they didn’t grow up together. As if ((until Barbara changed all our traditions)) we didn’t spend holidays together. As if he was just this one-off side character in her life. 

It should go without saying that the rest of us weren’t mentioned either. 

But! She was kind enough to mention our grandmother and basically said that if she wasn’t in a nursing home now, that she’d’ve been there with us. Like...

No, Barbara, she has dementia. She’s in a place where she’s safe. And this may come as a surprise to you, but actually trying to take care of someone with a disease like that isn’t fucking easy. But see, she wouldn’t know, bc she only helped with her own mother for maybe an hour or two at a time and only if my uncle took her kids ((I won’t sell her completely short, she did help once she was in a home. Very convenient, right?)) and she never helped with my grandmother save for the one time she came to do her hair. As a hairdresser, you’d think she’d’ve come to help with her hair so that we didn’t need to, huh? Of course, not.

The whole time she was delivering her Eulogy, Rachel didn’t even look up. Not once. She was pissed. In fact, when Barbara finished, Paschall got up to hug her, Rachel did not move. Not until Barbara actually came into the pew for one. Telling. Very telling. 

Anyway, the service ends and remember those pictures in the front of the church I mentioned earlier? 

Now we get a chance to really look at them. 

My aunt’s life clearly did not start until Barbara was born. 

One picture with her and my dad. Two pictures with her and our grandmother. Zero pictures of her and our grandfather. None when she was a little girl. A few with her other kids. Her and my uncle. TONS with Barbara and her children. And...a whole lot with her and Barbara’s IN-LAWS. 

I just...

And it’s not like she didn’t have pictures to use. WE sent her a whole bunch! Before the first round of bullshit!! Us being kind and trying to send her memories of her and her mother and it was like we didn’t fucking exist. 

And that, guys, gals, and nb pals, is how to make someone else’s funeral all about you. 

Oh, PS:

She also said to my brother “I wish I could go see grandma and do her hair for her. I hate that I can’t.”

My brother, to us, was like “Thanks, Barbara, where’ve you been the last half a decade???”

[beshert-bh]

My journey to/with Judaism

***This is a super long post, it’s the FULL story, not a brief overview, but it would mean the WORLD to me if you read it***

Upbringing: very much Not Jewish™️

I was born into a Catholic family. I have a goyish last name. I was baptized as an infant, and my parents took me to church each week as a kid.

In kindergarten — back when I still went to a secular private school — one of my best friends was Jewish. He told me all about the traditions his family did...told me all about the kippahs they wear, and how they had their own game called dreidel for this holiday they celebrated, called Hanukkah. (Of course this convo was at a basic-kindergarten-level of knowledge.) When I came home from school I was fascinated with Hanukkah, (this is cringey to admit but my 5-year-old self tried to integrate the traditions together and so in order to do this I drew up a “Christmas dreidel” complete with Santa Claus’ face on one side, a present on another side...you get it)

And that is when I was promptly put in “parochial” schools. I went to Catholic school from 1st grade to 12th grade. I went through Holy Communion and Confirmation like all the other kids did. My elementary soccer team’s mascot was an Angel. My high school’s mascot was a Crusader. Our high school was located on Rome Avenue. I went to a Catholic youth conference. I considered becoming a nun because I was single all throughout high school.

Growing up, around Christmastime we would always travel to visit my grandma, and she would always say we’re “German Jewish” — but I would write her off. In my mind, I was like, Yeah ok like 1%? .....It felt like my grandma was acting like one of those white people who takes a DNA test and says, “Look! We’re 1% African!” So I would dismiss her and remind her how we’re Catholics and she would drop the subject.

Falling away from Xtianity: my first 2 years of college

My freshman year I changed — politically — as I was only conservative in high school because of the ‘pro-life’ agenda being shoved down my throat. I really aligned more with liberal and leftist policies and views, though. Once I became open to new political ideology, I began to question my theological beliefs.

I always had a strong connection to God. My whole life. But I struggled with connecting to Jesus, Mary, the saints, and so on. So obviously my freshman year of college I began to fall away from Catholicism.

You see, Catholics are “bad at the Bible” as I like to say. Other Christians do a better job of teaching and analyzing the writings. They actually require school-aged children to memorize Scripture passages. Catholics mostly just teach the same stuff over and over. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, blah blah blah. Catechism, liturgical calendar, blah blah blah. Parts of the mass, fruits of the spirit, blah blah blah.

So since I was already doubting Catholicism, its corrupt leadership, and its mindless traditions.... I thought maaaaybeeee I would find purpose, truth, clarity, etc. in plain-old Christianity. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The other Christian churches I went to baptized people (which is a BIG LIFE DECISION) on the spot. For example if a newcomer felt on a whim that they wanted to be baptized, the church would do it right then & there. No learning, no planning or preparing, that was it. They promoted blind faith and circular thinking. I began to realize these were both normal attitudes and cognitive patterns within any and every Christian community that I encountered.

Even the Christians who exhibited curiosity mostly just asked questions in order to be able to understand, and then accept, the doctrine as truth. Questions never ever challenged anything.

Oh and let’s throw in the fact that I’m bisexual. Homophobia, transphobia, biphobia (and more) are rampant in the church. So needless to say, with all my observations about the lack of logical thinking in the church (and considering my sexual orientation) I fell away. I stopped going to church unless my family made me when I was home from college.

Enter stage right: Judaism

In retrospect I happened to have a lot of friends in my sorority and my favorite fraternity on campus who were Jewish (the frat happened to be a traditionally-Jewish one). Thought nothing of it at the time. Fast forward to junior year when I met this cute guy on Tinder. He’s now my boyfriend and we’ve been dating for over a year. He didn’t tell me this on Tinder, but when we went on our first date, he revealed that he’s Jewish and wanted to make sure that’s something I was ok with. Clearly I had no problem with that. I wasn’t too into Christianity anymore but I still identified as one (and I was still surrounded by Christian friends in my sorority) so I told him I was Christian/raised Catholic and asked hypothetically if he would be comfortable with a “both” family. He said yes.

We started dating during an October, so of course Hanukkah came up soon. There was a mega challah bake at our local Chabad, which he took me to, and we had a blast. From then on I decided I wanted to show him how supportive I was of his Jewishness. (The last girl he dated dumped him after 3 months BECAUSE he was Jewish... so I felt that I needed to be supportive)

We started going to shabbat services and dinner every week. We did Hanukkah together (we bought our first menorah together, he taught me how to spin a dreidel, his mom bought me Hanukkah socks...lol). At some point in our relationship I told him I may have Jewish ancestry from my grandma but it’s distant and my whole extended family is Christian so it really wouldn’t even matter. I don’t remember when I had that conversation with him.

Eventually, after another few months of Shabbat services and Shabbat dinners, Pesach came around.

We went to the first seder together. The second seder is what changed everything.

Deciding to convert

At first I wasn’t sure if I belonged at this second seder. My boyfriend had always brought me to every event. I had never attended anything alone at Chabad before. But I went anyway. Throughout the night I felt increasingly comfortable. I had never felt more like I was a *part of something* than I did at this seder.

I sat near a friend who I recognized. (He knows I’m raised Catholic.) Then he & his friends welcomed me. We all took turns reading from the Haggadah, we drank the four cups of wine together, and we laughed together as I had maror for the first time.

Then the familiar faces left to go home, and one of them even went to another table to sit with his other friends whom he hadn’t had a chance to see yet that night. Naturally I thought I was alone again. I almost left, but something tugged at my heart to stay until the very end of the second seder. Something told me to keep going and keep taking in this wonderful experience.

The rest of the night consisted of many songs (most likely prayers, in retrospect) I did not know. Everyone stood to sing and we all clapped to the rhythm. I knew none of the words but I still clapped along, alone at my own table. Then one of the boys — the one who had been sitting with my friends and I earlier — motioned at me to come over and join his other friends. I approached this new table full of people I’d never met, feeling awkward as ever, and they not only hoisted me up to stand on the table with them as they chanted, but they also included me in their dance circle. (no, I don’t think it was the Hora, we just spun around over and over. lol.)

This was the first night I felt at home with Judaism. Going through the Jewish history with the Haggadah, remembering the important occurrences and symbolizing them with various foods, ending the night by being welcomed into the community... it was transformative. After attending shabbat services for months and learning about Jewish values, it changed something in me when I observed Pesach for the first time last year. I knew this path would be right for me. I felt as if my soul had found where it belonged. The Jewish history, traditions, beliefs, and customs resonated with me. It all just... made sense.

I told my boyfriend I wanted to convert. I wrote three pages of reasons. But I sat on the idea of converting and did nothing for a while. I did do some more research on Judaism, though, as I continued to attend services each week.

The exploration stage

I began to actually research on my own time. If converting was something I was genuinely considering, it was high time I began actively learning as much as I could possibly learn. It was time to dive deeper than just attending the weekly services and googling the proper greetings for Jewish holidays.

I started digging deeper into Judaism and Christianity so I could compare and contrast the two. I needed to understand the similarities and differences. And BOY are they different. That was surprising at first, but the more I learned about Judaism, the more I loved how different it was from the Christianity I was indoctrinated into.

Not only are the values and teachings of each religion vastly different, but the Tanakh (which is “The Old Testsment” in Christian Bibles) actually contradicts:

The entire “New Testament”

The gospel books specifically

The Pauline letters specifically

How did I realize this? Some bible study of my own, but mostly through online research. And, of course, I would have gotten nowhere without the help of Rabbi Tovia Singer and his YouTube videos. He debunks everything there is to debunk about Christianity.

Here were some things I came across when researching:

It confused me how the four Gospels didn’t align (like, major parts of the story did not align at all...and supposedly they’re divinely inspired...but they don’t even corroborate one another?)

It confused me how the psalms we sang in church were worded completely different from the true wording in the Bible (essentially the Christian church is taking tehillim and altering it to benefit Christian dogma and Christian rhetoric.)

It confused me how we read in the Bible that Jews are ‘God’s chosen people’ and yet in every Catholic Church, every Sunday, there is a Pauline letter being read which depicts proselytization of Jews, as if Jews are lost and need Christians to save them. As if Jews would go to hell if they fail to accept Jesus.

It confused me why we would pray to Mary and the saints, because praying is worship, and worshipping anyone but God themself is idolatry.

It confused me why Christians make, sell, and use graven images. Idolatry. Again.

It confused me why Christians give absolute power to humans. For example, if you crawl up the same steps (Scala Santa) that Jesus supposedly crawled up before he died, you automatically get “saved” because *some old men who have no divine power* said so (they have a term for this and it’s called “plenary indulgence” lol).

It confused me why Jesus was believed to be the messiah considering he had to have biologically been from the line of Joseph. Wasn’t Jesus supposedly conceived without any help from Joseph? Wouldn’t that render Jesus, uh, not messiah by default? Even if he was from Joseph’s blood, he still did not complete all the tasks moshiach is supposed to fulfill. And even if he DID fulfill all the tasks required of moshiach... we still would not worship a messiah as he is human and not GOD.

These were all new thoughts I developed this past year between Pesach and Yom Kippur. New questions that challenged everything I thought I knew. It was like teaching a child 2+2≠22 but rather 2+2=4.

Hillel

This fall, after the High Holy Days, my boyfriend began attending shabbat dinners at a rabbi’s home. His new rav lives in the community and it’s exclusive to be invited, so I never imposed. We do Shabbos separately now (with some exceptions, we do it together sometimes).

I continued to go to Chabad with one of my friends who knew I wanted to convert. But one month, she couldn’t come at all, and I felt a little judged there anyway.

So I began going to Hillel a few months ago. And I honestly have found a home there.

From Hillel’s Springboard Fellow reaching out to me and taking me out for coffee to get to know me... to running into my sorority & fraternity friends at every Hillel event (shabbat or otherwise)... From getting included in various clubs like the women empowerment group and the mental health inclusivity group... to being the only college student to participate in Mitzvah Day (hosted by Hillel) with the elderly and the local Girl Scout troop... I feel truly welcome. I’ve started to attend every week. I even talked briefly with the rabbi about having Jewish lineage and wanting to convert.

Discovering new information

I went home to be with family during Thanksgiving break. My grandma flew in so she was there when I got home. She stayed with us from then until New Years (and she’s actually moving in with us next year.)

Of course, now I have a Jewish boyfriend, Jewish friends, and I’ve done extensive research on Judaism. So this time I had background knowledge when she inevitably said... “You know, we’re German Jewish!”

I inquired a little. I asked her what she meant. How is she Jewish? I know my uncle took a DNA test this year and came back part Ashkenazi. But I needed a deeper explanation than DNA.

She revealed to me that her mom’s mom was Jewish. We believe she married a Christian man. Together they had my great-grandmother, who I believe was Christian. She had my grandma, who had my dad, who had me.

And I immediately felt like that changed things. At first I was (internally) like, Now I definitely need to convert! But then I was like, Wait, does this make me Jewish? Am I Jewish-ish? ...Can you be considered Jewish if you’re only ethnically Jewish but not raised Jewishly? ...Can you be Jewish if your dad is your only Jewish parent? ...Can you be Jewish if your dad never had a bris or a bar mitzvah?

I joined a bunch of Jewbook groups, began learning the Hebrew calendar & holiday schedule, and found some folks who assist with Jewish genealogy. They did some digging for me and apparently I descend from the Rothschild family. THE Rothschild family.

Who is a Jew? Who “counts”?

This is something I’ve been muddling over.

At Hillel, at my school at least, most people are pretty Reform. They’re very liberal with their definitions of Judaism (they believe in patrilineal descent and not only matrilineal descent).

They accept me and see me as actually Jewish ...and the ones who don’t... they at least see me as Jewish-adjacent, an “honorary Jew” or an “ally to the Jewish people”.

My boyfriend, however, still sees me as Not Jewish.™️ (For context he’s Reform but he’s trying to become as observant as possible) I know he only thinks this was because of how we began our relationship and because of how I was raised. But I’m very confused here.

Do I count?

Do I not?

Do I count *enough* but still need to go through a formal conversion process?

So...now what?

I don’t know how to navigate this odd journey but I have felt for a while that I have a Jewish neshama and I feel a strong need to affirm it. I just don’t know how or what is appropriate. Do I learn Hebrew? Sign up for a trip to Israel/Germany/Poland? Put up a mezuzah? Or go toward the other end of the scale, and head down a path of a formal conversion/reaffirmation process?

Thank you in advance for your responses and thanks for reading. 🤎