#so i WILL be bragging and call myself apollo

[do-angels-dream-of-starry-seas]

Also letting everyone know that if any past posts I made end up coming true I WILL be annoying

[sigh-the-kraken]

The GBBO remark on the nanowrimo post has reminded me that I, who cannot bake, won a bake-off (against like 8 people who made their desserts from scratch) with a practically pre-made pie.

The bake-off was part of a fundraiser with a non-monetary prize (bragging rights and a piece of paper), and I was part of the organizing committee; our only rule was that you couldn't buy a finished dessert, so you couldn't go to the deli section of a grocery store, get a $17 cheese cake and call it good. We hadn't had good turn out at prior fundraisers, so we were hoping the promise of sugary delights would help. We were also worried that no one would sign up to compete and/or we just would not have enough competitors (we only had 2 sign-ups at the time and the competition was in 3 days); the solution decided on was that some members of the committee would compete, so we would have a) desserts for people to eat and b) an actual competition for people to be excited about.

Again, I can't bake; I don't have any family recipes for desserts, and, when I bake, stuff turns into inedible bricks. So, I bought a pre-made chocolate graham cracker pie crust, an instant jello chocolate pudding packet, and a box of graham crackers; none of this is against the rules, but this is the least baking, least time consuming, cheapest method of getting a dessert. I didn't have to do anything with the pie crust. I made the pudding, but that is just pour milk and powder in bowl, stir for 5 minutes, pour in crust, put in fridge and watch tv for 3 hours. I crushed graham crackers and just sprinkled them over the top. The process takes like 10 mins work and costs like $7 max.

I'm talking with @captaindibbzy like "I'm going to win :D" [Apollo will remember this]

Day of the cook-off, I set-up the room for the fundraiser, get all the other competitors into place, go fetch my pie from the fridge in the last 5 mins; I am the last one in the circuit around the room, but people aren't following the circuit anyways and are hopping from table to table. I'm competing against people that clearly like to bake, including grandmothers. There's cakes with drizzle, decorative pies, fun-shaped cookies, snicker-doodle looking things from out of a home-making magazine next to my $7 mostly pre-made pie.

We have a pretty good turn out and get a few donations; this is basically a success/win, and my pie is almost entirely gone so I don't have to worry about storage or food poisoning my co-workers.

The ballots are collected and tallied; I did not vote for myself because chocolate drizzle cake is delicious (and it's not in the spirit of competition to vote for yourself). The ballots are tallied, tallied again and then tallied again. The other organizers are looking at me from across the room.

I won by getting like 50% of the votes. No one was mean or even rude about it, but it was the greatest upset in the history of upsets. I don't know if people looked at me and were like "this is the youngest person here/the underdog/they did their best on a tight budget clearly" and voted with empathy or if the other desserts looked nice but tasted bad (I only had the cake, and I would have given it to the cake), but I won.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Pure Blood 16 (Sirus Black x F!Oc)

Words: 2,096

Masterlist:

Chapter 15 // Chapter 17

"Did he lecture you for not killing that family?"

Remus couldn't believe what his friend was saying. For a long time, he heard many stories about Sirius's cruel family and when he started the meetings with Persephone, he believed that it would be something similar, but with this… The Singhs won the worst family competition.

"Yep," she replies as she took a bite out of her cookie.

"That's a horrible thing."

"My family is,” Persephone recalls what happened to her older sister and is debating whether to keep the promise with Juno or warn her friend.

"Say it already, it always smells burnt when you think,” Remus jokes causing her to scoff.

"It's nothing, and don't think I forgot our exchange,” He stops laughing and his hands start to shake a little.

"First you must tell me how you knew it,” He sighs.

"It was just clues, remember when we fought in third year because the other three idiots were out of their dorms at dawn?"

“No," she looks at him in surprise.

"Didn't they tell you?" Remus denies confused and she sighs.

"One night... I-” Persephone suddenly blushes. "I was going to see a boy from Ravenclaw- before you say something, nothing happened, it was just kisses- then everyone went to the bedrooms, on the way I ran into them, Pettigrew just trembled with fear but James and Sirius started yelling at me. To tell the truth, I was too happy at the time, I didn't mind seeing them, I wasn't going to accuse them– I was also breaking the rules, but they yelled at we started arguing. Obviously Filch discovered us,” Remus’ body tenses. “It struck me that you were not with them. I started to notice you more. Your wounds… sometimes you seemed sick, I didn’t understand why they were awake that time, but I suppose that in time I discovered your secret. It was their fault if you think about it.”

"That explains a lot of things.”

"What do you mean?"

“I remember it, third year. It was when they couldn't go and I broke my arm” He shakes his head. “I ... I was bitten by a werewolf when I was just a baby, I have lived with this thing all my life…” His eyes water. Persephone decides to take his hand as support. "They discovered it and they wanted to help.”

"What did they do?"

Remus chuckles.

“Animagi."

She raises her eyebrows in surprise.

"Sirius is a dog, James a stag, and Peter’s rat.”

"Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail,” She rolls her eyes and Remus laughs.

“Moony," He adds, pointing at himself. “At first I tried to refuse, but they ignored me. Since then, they have been working to be animagi, until they got it later. When it is a full moon, they transform and help me not to hurt myself or others. Werewolves don't hurt other animals. "

“Wow…”

“I know they’re not your favorite people, Percy. But thanks to them, my Little Furry Problem - that's what they call it - is more tolerable. They are my best friends, I owe them too much,” Remus adds totally honest.

"That's... well, having friends," says Percy and he looks at her.

“Jenna would surely do the same.”

She laughs. "I don't think so, that is, I know that she would support me in everything, that's obvious, but looking for a way to change yourself to help a friend, even I couldn't think of something like that.”

Her thoughts drift and she can't help but envy Remus. He’s very lucky to have them and Sirius as part of that group. She remembers the adventures they once had, the stories they shared, the sadness they comforted together.

"You're lucky, Wolfie.”

Remus smiles.

"You too, it's not to brag, but from the marauding group, now you have me,” She watches him with a sad smile. "We are in this together, Percy.”

—————————————————-

Percy’s POV

The weeks pass and the exams end, everyone can breathe, my meetings with Remus continue without problems and regarding my research on Muggles, I think I have improved, I know much more. I must admit that it was not easy to understand some things– Luckily, Lupin is patient, with each meeting our friendship has grown stronger, which I appreciate.

The potions classes with Sirius are... quiet, to tell the truth; we’re a great team, but we barely share a few words and they’re only to pass ingredients. I guess that's than to yell and push. We don’t dare to look each other in the eye and I don't know how to feel about it, Slughorn is pleased with our performance and doesn’t miss the opportunity to show it off to all the students and teachers.

"How is it possible that he keeps talking about us being so drunk?" Sirius whispers.

I giggle as we both watch Slughorn talking to a student, who only nods at the professor's babble.

I turn to Sirius, who’s dressed in a black shirt, with some of the buttons undone, dress pants, and his usual tousled hair.

"Apparently he's glad to finally have you on his pedestal of students," He grimaces.

"It was never my intention,” I laugh again and he does it too. "You look... pretty today, Singh.” He says quickly and then take a little from his glass.

I feel my cheeks burn and tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. Right now, I appreciate Jenna lending me her red dress. I was surprised that she had one like this, with no neckline, medium straps, a small bow under the chest, pretty straightforward, reaching just above my knees. To tell the truth, since Slughorn invited us to one of his “exclusive” parties, I didn't really want to, but both Jenna and Lily forced me to come.

"Thanks, you don't look too bad either…”

"Do you think this circus also has to do with us? He usually does these parties during Christmas…”

"Surely he wanted proof," He nods.

"Do you think if we leave now, he'll notice?" He walks to be in front of me.

"I don't think so, it won’t take long until he tries to show us off with a broom," Sirius bites his lip, drowning his chuckles.

"I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere else?" I raise my eyebrows and he rolls his eyes. “It's important.”

I nod and we both leave the room, we walk through the empty corridors, only the moonlight and a few torches lighting our way.

"And?"

"I thought about what you said– you know, in your house,” We stop. "I know that maybe I don't usually think things before I say or do them- that's what Remus says- that's why..." He cocks his head a little. "I can only tell you that, no matter how the plan turns out–” He looks me in the eyes. “I… I wouldn't force you into something you don't want, and if everything goes wrong…" He stutters.

"I understand,” I see sincerity in his eyes.

"I know I hurt you, Persephone," I feel shivers when he says my name. "I'm sorry.”

"It's a little late for that, Sirius.”

"I know, I just-"

"Why did you walk away?" I interrupt him, he seems surprised.

"I- I don't... I don't know.”

"You replaced me, you never worried whether if I wanted to be with you, just... you pushed me away."

"I don’t know.”

I nod and walk away a little, fighting back tears.

“All right.”

________________

After that, everything passes quickly and our fifth year is over: Ravenclaw wins the house cup and everyone gets together on the train back home.

As for me, everything changed: Apollo and Isis returned to their homes with their families, Balder will stay with his friends for a while, my parents didn’t object.

My parents and Juno barely speak to me. It’s sad to see how my family is slowly breaking down and I can't help but feel guilty, my letters to Remus express it very well, but he keeps telling me that this is not my fault. I guess he can't understand it anyway…

My only help for not going crazy were the letters between Remus, Lily and Regulus, and truth be told, I was quite surprised when I received one, earlier in the holidays.

‘Singh,

Obviously I write this to you by force, Remus demanded that I do it, I don't know why he doesn't do it, but anyway.

Given our truce period, I should start with: How was your vacation? Although I don't care, you can answer this letter... or not.

We’ve been in the Potter's house, I suppose that my vacations do not compare with the hell you’re living, somehow I feel… sorry for you.

And that's why I remembered something that I think is vital for the plan to continue. What happened with your family that made them hate you so much?

I tried to get information out of Lupin, but he refused. My family has a thousand and one reasons to hate me, I can't understand why Ares's favorite girl can be so loathed.

I have to go.

SBx’

The end of the parchment has a huge ink stain.

At first I thought it was a joke, but I decided to answer him, something very brief, I couldn't tell him about my parents that summer by letter, I don't know when I can tell him, but apparently my answer reassured him. Another surprise was that we both continued with the letters, without realizing it, I was looking forward to the Potter's owl.

Sixth year

"I can't wait for the exams,” says the redhead with emotion.

"Say something like that again and I'll hit your pretty nose, Evans," I grunt.

She laughs nervously at my expression.

"I just want to pass them, they’ve made me nervous and I studied during the whole vacation," A new growl comes out of my mouth.

“Lily, there’s a reason that it's a vacation, there's no school, you don't have to study. Also, we are just starting, we haven't even had any classes!”

"I can't believe this, but I agree with the snake, Lily flower," comments James, surprising everyone. "I know, I know, but don't get used to it.”

The marauders together with Lily are gathered in the room of requirement. I’m on a huge cushion leaning against the wall, next to Lily, who’s sitting on the floor. The rest are scattered throughout the room.

"Oh, come on. Remus will understand,” The boy blushes a little and rubs his neck.

"Ha!" I laugh, pointing at him. “He didn't study either!– You see, Evans? You're the only one who studied on vacation, you little bookworm,” I say.

"She always gets nervous, it’s normal to want to be prepared," Lupin defends.

"Don't try to fix it, Moony," adds Sirius, putting his arm around the boy's shoulders.

"Okay, let's go back to where we left off: The plan.”

"Yes, the big dance will be in November, James will be there with his family. We should all gather any important information. ”

"We must know which minister will officiate the wedding, then we will see what we’ll have to do…”

"I read that their families have very specific marriage rituals," adds Lily.

Sirius and I wince.

"Don't tell me we have to spend a weekend at each other's house to meet the family," I complain.

"I have no idea…”

“That's quite rare."

"Well, although I love being with all of you, except the snake, and I'm not complaining about your presence, Lily flower– but I have a meeting with the Quidditch team…” James takes his things, the rest of us have nothing else to do now so we get up.

Upon leaving, a new conversation started between the marauders, while Lily told me a story from her childhood.

Sirius's body collides with mine. I can feel his arms at my waist, then he takes my wrist and pulls me toward the entrance to the gardens. It forces me to crouch on the floor under a window frame.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Black?!” I squeal. His hands cover my mouth.

"Shut your mouth, I just saved your life!” I look at him totally confused and he rolled his eyes.

Little by little we look out of our hiding place.

"Sirius?" The others walk up to us.

"No! Please– We’re not here, don’t make it obvious!” He says with worry.

"Who are you hiding from?" Lily asks.

"Trixie Jones!” He whispers in terror.

Taglist!

@treestarrrrrrrr @siriuslysirius1107 @thagreenmoonblack @madmaiden2890 @bloodorangemoonlight  @ren-ela  @avipshamitra  @auroraawrites @findzelda  @lizlil  @siriusmuch   @may-rapp  @chloe-geoghegan1 @reverse-hxlland  @littledeadgirlwalking​

[ljandersen]

2, 3, 5, and 20 for the writer asks? :D

Thanks for the ask!  These questions are so much fun.  This is from  “Fun Meta Ask for Writers”

2.   Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

I’m working on the second draft of my large WIP, and I know there are a few scenes I need to add.  One I’m excited to write is a flashback.  It needs to show Shepard’s initial connection with the villain and the genesis of the professional rivalry between him and Kaidan.  After writing the story, I felt like I jumped too fast into the villain’s individual relationships with Shepard and Kaidan without a real explanation.  I need to show what values he and Shepard share and how his values clash with Kaidan’s.  Since the scenes won’t be needed until part 2, I’m not rushing to write it.  I need to brainstorm more on how to make it unique and not redundant with other situations that happen later. 

2.  What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

My WIP is Shepard’s POV.  There are some off screen moments that happen in Kaidan’s life I would enjoy exploring in actual scenes.  I’ve played them out in my head even, just to satisfy my own fascination  I don’t really see it having a place in the story itself though, and without context, I don’t see it making a successful one-shot.  I might actually get to the point of writing it one day, but it will probably just be for myself.

5.  What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

I identify with elements of my main characters, but there are just as many elements I don’t identify with.  I identify with Shepard’s pragmatism, logic, determination, and focus. Neither of us like drama or displaying sad emotions.  I don’t identify with her extroversion, charisma, risk taking, or her consuming need to be in charge.  She’s social, craves stimulation, and expects to be the center of attention.  

With Kaidan, I identify with being introverted, deep-thinking, and academic.  Like him, I overthink things and can’t let some stuff go.  But I don’t identify with being as altruistic, conscientious, and kind as he is.  I don’t agonize over right and wrong and hold myself to an impossible, idealized standard of conduct.  I’m not emotional and sensitive to what others are feeling.  If I’m closest to any character, I might say it’s my villain OC, but that’s hardly flattering to admit.

20.  Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

In “Mars,” I have a scene where Kaidan and Shepard wake up after their date at Apollo’s.  Their conversation leads to Shepard calling Kaidan’s performance the night before Illos spectacular.  It makes him self-conscious and unsure if she’s making fun of him.  This lays groundwork for their scene in Shepard’s cabin during ME-3.  Shepard says she’ll never forget the first night they bunked together.  “I was pretty spectacular,” he says.  This always struck me as kind of off for his character.  He’s otherwise in the games consistently self effacing and almost determinedly modest.  Perhaps he brags about being spectacular as a joke, but something about it comes off more smug and a little arrogant.  To me, it would be more in character for him to say “they” were spectacular, or even, Shepard herself was spectacular.  It’s just a weird line to me, and I don’t really like it.  By creating this scene that happens ahead of time, I was able to turn Kaidan’s “I was pretty spectacular” comment into more of a sly, inside joke.  It made it more fun and flirty than bragging and felt more inline with his character.  Headcanoning it that way takes some of cringe of it for me.

Again, thanks for the ask!  I appreciate it so much.

[gottagobuycheese]

Tag Thingy

Thanks @silent--sonata for indulging my terrible sleeping habits XD

(fyi this will probably be unnecessarily long and rambly, so it’s going under a cut (EDIT: whelp the song list got a little out of hand, I’d apologize if I were even remotely sorry)) 

Rules: Answer 17 questions & tag 17 people you want to get to know better  

Nickname: Cheese (or Lactose Wedge, or Dairy Product of Unspecified Origin and Purpose)

Zodiac Sign: Gemini! 

Height: 160.5 cm/5′3″ (Bubbles I refuse to believe you’re actually that much taller than me) 

Hogwarts house: Somewhere between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff allegedly, both of which I’d be honored to get sorted into, but honestly I’d just be stoked to get sorted at all 

Last thing I googled: I think it was something along the lines of “how to speed up audio playback in GarageBand,” but but my train of thought was derailed before I actually looked at any of the results so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (and on a related note, thanks again for the magical audio editing @imperiousheiress!)

Song stuck in my head: The end credits to Legacy of the Wizard (which is SUCH a jam, thank you for enlightening me @jessicafish) Following and followers: 227 (goodness just looking at that number is stress-inducing) and...104?! When the HECK did you all get here??? I think just last summer I was happily floating about in the 50′s. Anyways, to anyone I have not said hello, hello! Hope you enjoy your stay, and I am sincerely sorry if you expected Quality Original Content, or even just regularly scheduled other people’s content. Sadly, neither of these things tend to happen here. 

Amount I sleep: During the school year it’s usually anywhere between 30 minutes and 6 hours (DON’T EVEN START BUBBLES YOU HAVE NO RIGHT), usually landing in the 3/4 hour ranges if I’m smart about it, but now that I am on Unofficial Break, it’s usually at least around 6 hours (except today was 3 because Avatar is an excellent show and the weirdos in this house have regularly scheduled breakfast at 9-something every morning). Sadly my sleep schedule can only be forced to tolerate normalcy for so long before careening back in the other direction, so we’ll see if this is just a blip or if we’re back to normal mid-Atlantic Ocean hours!

Lucky number(s): I wouldn’t say these are necessarily favorite numbers, but I do like 2 and 9. But come to think of it, second attempts at Official Things do tend to go better for me than first attempts, so maybe there’s some merit there after all! Dream Job: Don’t think I’m really cut out for dreaming anymore, haha (unless you are a theoretical future employer in which case I am Extremely Full of Ambition and Passion). The bed-adjacent metaphor has been made, and not to brag, but I can sleep on pretty much any surface. Currently studying my Not Favorite aspect of STEM (was there ever a favorite or did I just like being good at things sometimes) and learning how to People™ properly (and also learning a gazillion convoluted drug names like what the heck dude, did you just fall asleep on your typewriter coming up with these), so I’ll take whatever place hires me and pays me enough not to depend on my parents for everything, I suppose. In an ideal world, that would entail a job where I could make friends, and even more importantly, a job where my shortcomings would not cause Massive and Irreparable Harm, but I don’t think this line of work really meshes with that last one, so I guess I’ll either have to get my shit together™ extremely soon or fake my death, adopt an alias, and flee to a completely new place with no ties whatsoever before trying to get another, less high stakes job. 

(Though I guess, less cynically, I like helping people well enough? And stories are fun! Maybe there could’ve been something with that. Not that there still can’t be, mind, but there’s still a long way to go between Here and There)

Wearing: Black shorts. Navy t-shirt. Brown some-specific-kind-of-jacket-I-forgot-the-name-of jacket. Is it summer? Is it fall? Am I in middle school? Who can say, but they are COMFY so sadly I have no cares to give

Favourite song(s): way way WAY too many to list here, and I do not have them all organized in a handy playlist separately, but to name a few (and these are not necessarily the MOST favorite okay, it doesn’t mean I don’t love stuff not on this list, it means you can’t force me to pick between my children and I am going to find at least one quick thing from a few things I like before I need to hit post and go back to looking like I’m being studious, and also things I think you should listen to right now, but for everything I’ve linked assuming I mean the whole OST), here’s a spam of links in no particular order: 

LoZ Wind Waker - The Great Sea (aka the epitome of optimism) 

Undertale - NGAHHH!! (I was about to link more but then I realized it’d be the whole soundtrack lol) 

LoZ Breath of the Wild - Hateno Village (Night) 

A:tLA - Peace (bad call BAD CALL NOW I HAVE EMOTIONS) 

Legend of Korra - Final Scene/Ending Theme (MISTAKES WERE MADE MISTAKES WERE MADE) 

Kung Fu Panda - Oogway Ascends (I feel like I’m taking you on a whole little album journey now XD) 

PMD: Explorers of Sky - Dialga’s Fight to the Finish (aka the Gotta Shower Fast song) 

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Pursuit ~ Cornered (aka the HURRY UP AND PACK UR SHIT YOUR FLIGHT LEAVES IN THREE HOURS song) 

Apollo Justice: A New Trial Is In Session (very underrated soundtrack imo) and also Apollo Justice: Telling the Truth (because these two are very closely associated in my head and it’s getting harder and harder to narrow things down so maybe I should stop lol) 

Your Name: Katawaredoki (in which I am forcibly thrown heart first into the bedroom of my second apartment at approximately 12-something A.M.) 

Digimon Adventure 01: Butterfly (MASSIVE 90′s childhood anime feels, and also Last Summer Before Everything Went to Shit feels (on a general scale I mean, not personal)) 

Pokémon: Lugia’s Song multitrack cover by Jordan Moore (would that I could have a talent of that musical talent) 

Pokémon the First Movie: Tears of Life (great now I’m on a Pokémon music spiral GUESS IT’S CHILDHOOD NOSTALGIA HOURS NOW) 

PMD: Blue Rescue Team - Farewell and Run Away/Fugitives (you CANNOT make me choose between these guys okay, my brain WILL explode, and whoops now I want to link the whole ost) 

Palette by A Dear Friend (wink wonk) 

Pokémon: Alpha Sapphire - Fortree City (wow talk about mood whiplash)

Detective Conan: Main Theme (I can’t find the specific version since there are so many, but it’s a Good Theme) 

Super Smash Bros.: Brawl - Opening Theme 

Pokémon Colosseum - Relic Forest 

Song for Lindsay by Andrew Boysen Jr. (oh great now it’s time for marching band feelings I guess)

Mt. Everest by Rossano Galante 

Deltarune - Field of Hopes and Dreams and A Town Called Hometown (orchestrated) (aka the Lots of Work To Do song) and You Can Always Come Home and Don’t Forget (hey guess what I wrote a bunch of fake extra verses for) (also it looks my pathetic attempts at narrowing things down are getting even more pathetic so I’ll wrap up soon XD) 

 Guild Wars 2 - Fear Not This Night (never actually played this myself but my friend got me addicted to the music) 

Lord of the Rings - May It Be (Enya) (aaaand now I miss choir, THANKS BUBBLES) 

Lion King - Can You Feel the Love Tonight (Multilingual) by Travys Kim (aka how I remembered how fun these things are) 

Original Song by Anonymous  

(The urge to add all the other songs I’m not adding is so strong but I’ve got so much work to do so just assume I mean all Nintendo music from any game I’ve played, all Ghibli movie music, every musical I’ve ever heard, and even more) 

Random fact:

Apparently as early as the 17th century, you could guess that a child would have a shortened life span if their foreheads tasted salty. Yes, there is a specific reason, and yes, you may already know what it is, and thankfully no, that life span projection no longer holds true, assuming access to Modern Medicine! 

Favourite Authors: Okay I have not read enough various books of enough various authors to be able to answer this, so I’m just gonna go with a few books instead. They are not necessarily all-time favorites, but I enjoyed reading them very much at the time and more often than not go back to them for comfort reads: The Martian, any of first three Harry Potter books, and The Rise of Kiyoshi. (That last one’s not really a comfort read but I am drowning in Loving Kiyoshi juice so here we are)

Favourite Animal Noises: Certain kinds of birds (UNLESS it’s some ungodly hour of the morning and you’re trying to sleep)? Ooh, and crickets! 

Aesthetic: A slob, but like...a comfy slob. An incredibly disorganized hermit who is happy to mill about in the uncontrolled entropy. (Are we talking about what aesthetic I give off, or what I like to look at, visually? Because I like space, and water, and mountains, and forests, and forests ON mountains, OOH and forests on mountains at night where you can see space, perhaps reflected in a body of water. Or just water, idk. Different things are pretty to look at at different times)

WELL THAT ONLY TOOK FOREVER SORRY FOR THE OBSCENE LENGTH 

@pachelbelsheadcanon @averybritishbumblebee @shingeki-no-korra @sailorlock @yeswevegotavideo @soultheta @queenerdloser @ifeelbetterer @rogueofdragons @peppervl @amadness2method @mutalune and anybody else who wants to do this! This isn’t seventeen, and I don’t know if any of you have already done it/been tagged, but I hear people moving around upstairs so that means this break is over XD. And ABSOLUTELY no pressure to actually do this, this is pretty much just me wishing you well! (and YOU of course, my dear reader! I hope everything’s going all right, or if it’s not, that it does soon)

[flightfoot]

Memories of Godly Selfishness Side Story - Satyr School

I stood rigidly in front of the satyr school. Come on, just walk in, one foot forward, then the other. I still didn’t move. 

Come on, they’re just satyr children, you’ve talked to them a million times before! Yes, part of me whispered. And they’ve been scared of you for a lot of those times, both as children AND adults. 

Thousands of years ago, I’d help spread the rumor that I had skinned Marsyas alive for bragging  about being a better musician than me. That wasn’t QUITE the case - I could see now how cruel I could be in the past, but even I wasn’t THAT bad. But I’d told people I had done it, in order to come off as more intimidating. Eventually I had regretted spreading such a bloodthirsty, false tale about myself. I hadn’t done much to combat it though. Part of me had wanted to be feared, even for something cruel. “Fear” and “respect” could seem awfully similar after all.

I no longer wished for that facsimile of respect. If the satyrs no longer listened to me as attentively, if they no longer treated me with as much deference, than so be it. Over my months as a mortal, I had grown to appreciate how nice it could be to be treated as an equal, and as a friend. 

As for being feared...

My stomach curdled.

I had been forced to confront truths I had ignored for millennia. How much Zeus’s cruelty could HURT, for one. How much of my anger I had misdirected, afraid to strike at Zeus directly, instead taking it out on people who were only tangentially involved, like the Cyclopes. And the reason why I - and most of the other Olympians, I suspected - obeyed Zeus... for the most part. 

It wasn’t because of respect. Especially when it came to his orders during Second Titan War and the Second Giant War. Most of us knew he was making bad calls. Holing up in Olympus and wishing the problem away was never going to work. But most of us had still done it, fearing what he’d do to us if we didn’t. 

Like father, like son.

I had instilled the same fear in the satyrs. They didn’t “respect” me because I was good or wise or brave, but because they believed I might torture them to death if I didn’t.

I was more similar to my father than I’d like to admit.

Time to change that.

I took a deep breath, and opened the door.

I found the music hall easily. The building was pretty small, and Grover had given me some good directions.

I peered around the entrance first, wanting to get a good look at the class before entering.

Woodrow sat on a stool. At first glance he appeared composed. Yet I could hear his ragged breathing, saw the barely controlled fear in his expression.

His pupils weren’t in much better shape. Three young satyrs sat on small cushions, each of them with an instrument in their lap. I wondered why there were so few of them. Perhaps there were simply so few young satyrs who had been able to safely make their way to Camp Half-Blood, with how difficult and dangerous traveling had become since the Emperors revealed themselves. Perhaps the other students had decided to call in sick, hoping to avoid potentially angering me. Or both.

“Both” made my stomach twist the most, so it was probably right.

The satyr on the right had a Keytar on his lap. He looked to be around 8 in human years, which meant he was probably around 16 in actuality, since satyrs age at half the rate that humans do. He clutched his keytar to himself tightly, his knuckles turning white, breathing so quickly I thought he might pass out. I recognized that expression, that desperation to clutch onto SOMETHING for comfort. I had experienced it many times since becoming human.

The satyr in the middle looked slightly older - maybe 18 - and held a trumpet in his lap. He wasn’t clutching it like the satyr on the right had held his instrument. He seemed to be mimicking Woodrow’s rigidity instead, trying to hide his nerves by simply not moving at all.

The satyr on the left looked to be youngest, no older than 14. A tiny golden lyre sat beside him. My mind flashed to my own personal lyre, which I had modeled on the one Hermes had crafted for me all those millennia ago. A quiet sob echoed through the air.  I quickly snapped out of my reverie and took a closer look at the youngest satyr. His eyes were red and bloodshot as he pulled his legs up, burying his face in the soft, curly fur.

They were all so terrified, so afraid I might hurt them, might TORTURE them. And for good reason. I had WANTED them to be scared of me. Now I wished, not for the first time, that I could go back in time and punch my past self in the face. HARD.

I breathed out deeply, prepared myself, and stepped into the hall.

Immediately four heads snapped towards me. I wished I could shrink into oblivion, far away from those terrified eyes. 

Instead I plastered a (hopefully) friendly smile onto my face and walked towards Woodrow. He gave a wobbly smile in return. 

“I am Apollo,” I announced. “I will be your music teacher for the day.”

Originally I was thinking of just coming in and announcing that I HADN’T actually flayed Marsyas, but looking at all the satyrs, I felt it best to NOT bring up that story right now. I doubted they’d believe me anyway, but they might feel pressure to pretend that they did, and then be terrified when it became apparent that they actually still thought I’d flayed him, and... 

Well, best to just try to get them somewhat comfortable in my presence. For the first time I was glad that Zeus had given me a very non-imposing form.

The students stared at me. I shuffled my feet a little.

“So... what are your names?”

No one spoke. Clearly I’d need to be a little more active in order to get anywhere.

I pointed to the keytar satyr. “I’m- I’m Fern, sir.”

“You can play the keytar, Fern?” I asked.

“A- a little...but nowhere near as well as you sir, I’m sure!” he added hastily.

I turned towards the middle satyr, letting Fern relax now that my attention was no longer on him.

“That’s a nice trumpet,” I said.

“Do- do you want it? If you want it, you can have it,” he said. Every word seemed to pain him. He clearly LOVED that trumpet, but didn’t want to deny me.

“No, no! It’s yours! I just wanted to let you know I thought it was nice.”

The satyr sighed, clearly relieved. “Th-thanks.”

Hopefully he’d calmed down some more. Maybe now I could find out his name? I couldn’t just keep calling him “the middle satyr”.

“So what’s your name?”

“Aster, sir.”

“Thank you, Aster.”

I turned my attention to the last satyr, still partially curled into a ball.

“And you?” I asked as gently as I could. “What’s your name?”

“Wr-Wren,” he stuttered.

“That’s a lovely name, Wren.”

“Th-thank you.”

We sat in silence for a moment. Finally I decided to try to move the lesson along.

“So, Aster! Could you play a piece for me? The most complicated piece you’ve mastered, if you could. I’d like to judge what level you’re on.”

“Su-sure.”

Nervously, he played a quick, high energy piece. He played it well, with only the occasional stumble. It was pretty good, coming from someone so young. 

I smiled encouragingly as he finished. “That was very well done, Aster. You play the trumpet well.”

He smiled back. It was a little wobbly, a little fearful, but it appeared genuine.

“Thank you.”

I turned my attention to Fern. “You feel up for a performance?”

The look on his face said no, he did NOT feel up for a performance, could you please turn away for a few seconds so I could run away and find a hole to crawl into and die? 

Out loud, he said, “I’ll try.”

Slowly, he started playing. This song.. it seemed sad, but... hopeful. Saying that maybe everything wasn’t fine, but paradoxically, that somehow MADE things OK. Bad things happened. Terrible things had happened. But hope remained.

It... it struck close to home for me. I’d watched some awful things. I’d seen friends die, realized how blind we gods had been, how much we’d gotten wrong. Yet things could change for the better. I had changed for the better. 

Remember what it’s like to be human.

Jason had passed the torch to me. It was up to me to continue changing things, to fulfill Jason’s promise, and my own. 

I smiled softly at Fern as he finished. If anyone noticed that my eyes were a little wetter, they didn’t comment.

“That was beautiful,” I said. “What song is it?”

“His Theme, sir,” Fern replied. He seemed calmer than before. The song seemed to have quieted his fear. “It’s from a video game called Undertale.”

“Who’s theme?” I asked. I wasn’t familiar with Undertale, though after hearing that song, I DEFINITELY wanted to look it up.

“That’s the name of the song, ‘His Theme’.” This time I could hear the quotation marks.

“Thank you for playing it for us, Fern,” I said gently. He smiled back at me. 

I turned to the final satyr child. “Wren?”

The boy startled. “Y-yes?”

He was still scared of me. I tried to soften my voice more, praying that that would put him at ease. “You feel up for playing your lyre? I’d love to hear it.”

Mutely he nodded, picking up the lyre in his shaking hands. Yet his hands were remarkably steady as he plucked the strings. 

This song I recognized. I’d heard it played several times over the past decade, played by many different musicians on many different instruments. A sad-sounding song, yet it was used as an intro.

“Dearly Beloved,” I stated as he finished. “From Kingdom Hearts.”

“You know it?!” he exclaimed, nervousness forgotten.

“Of course! It’s pretty well known, and besides...”

And besides, it reminds me of the lovers I’ve lost.

I didn’t say that aloud of course.

“Excellent song choice, Wren. You played that beautifully.”

Wren beamed at me. 

At last, I was making progress. They seemed to be losing some of their fear.

Then I looked over at Aster.

He was looking down at the floor, face crunched up slightly.

I frowned. Why did he seem upset? He’d played a nice piece on the trum-

Oh. OH.

I couldn’t remember much about the piece. He’d played it well enough, but there wasn’t much heart in it, and he’d stumbled over a few of the notes. I hadn’t been able to identify the song, and it hadn’t been memorable enough for me to feel inclined to ask what it was. He’d known how to play the trumpet, but it didn’t seem like the most natural instrument for him. As if he normally played something else.

“Aster,” I called, hoping my intuition was right, “Would you like to play the instrument your most proficient in for me?”

His jaw dropped.

“You knew?!”

“Not until just now. Please retrieve it, if you like. I promise I won’t be mad at you for playing it.”

He hesitated a moment, then walked over and pulled out a flute.

I had been right.

He’d hidden his true instrument, feared playing it because of what had happened when Marsyas had played one near me.h

But now he was willing to play it for me.

He started playing. Sad, slow, and melancholy again. It seemed to be a theme. I didn’t recognize this one.

This song... I could hear the longing, the unrequited love in every note. So soft, yet filled with gentle pain. Oh, Daphne...

Again, I was left in tears at the end.

“That was beautiful,” I whispered.

Aster beamed back at me. “I’ve been practicing that one for awhile. I’m the best in my class at the flute! Heck, even Woodrow’s had trouble teaching me more, since I’m beyond his level. I’ve never met anyone better than me at... it...”

A look of horror overcame his face.

“Un-until you, ofcourseyou’rebetteryou’reApolloyou’rethegodofmusicyou’reALWAYSthebestpleasedon’tkillmeI’llneverplayamusicalinstrumentagainjustpleasedon’t-”

My heart broke. He thought I would MURDER him, TORTURE him, a CHILD, JUST for the crime of playing the flute well, and SAYING how well he played it.

I had to set this right. This is why I came.

Aster threw the flute away and prostrated himself on the floor, trembling in fear, crying. The other two satyrs had backed up, looking at their friend as if they were afraid they’d never see him again.

Slowly I approached him, kneeling down to try and appear as unthreatening as possible. It... wasn’t really working, but still I tried.

“Aster,” I called. “Aster. I’m not going to hurt you. Not for playing well, and not for bragging about it either.”

He still sobbed, but I thought they’d quieted just a fraction.

“I- what I did to Marsyas- that story- it isn’t true. I- I didn’t kill him. I just told everyone I did, because I wanted to be feared. Marsyas was smart enough not to reveal himself and show that I had lied about killing him. Even he knew that was a bad idea. I- I wanted to be feared. For no one to dare think they compared to me. I regretted it later, but the damage was done. And I never fully committed to trying to repair it. Until now.”

“Aster, I’m GLAD you’re so good at playing the flute. I’m HAPPY that there are brilliant musicians in this world besides me, even ones who brag. I’m not gonna hurt you, or anyone else, simply for saying that their anywhere near as good as me, or even better. I won’t hurt someone for something so small. It’s WRONG, okay? I was WRONG to even pretend to do that in the past. So... please...”

I walked over to the side and retrieved the flute from where it fell. I held it out to Aster. “Please pick up your flute. I know how important an instrument is to a musician.”

Eyes still bloodshot, cheeks tear-stained, he reached out and accepted the flute. The other two satyr children let out sighs of relief.

Still, Aster stared at me in disbelief.

“It’s OK,” I soothed. “It’s OK.”

He moved towards me, and hugged. A second later he seemed to remember himself and flinched back. “It’s fine,” I said, hugging him back. “It’s fine.”

He melted into the hug.

We stayed like that for a minute.

This is what I had been missing. This warmth. Why had I ever thought it was better to be feared?

We broke apart, Aster still wiping tears from his eyes. Yet he was smiling.

“So!” I smiled at the three of them. “Who wants to learn some new songs from the God of Music himself?”

They cheered.

As I sat down and taught them some new (or rather, really REALLY old) songs, I smiled to myself.

Maybe I wasn’t a god right now, but I could still make things just this little bit better. I could change things, by myself, without needing powers. Even if it was small, it MATTERED. 

To these young, small, oh-so-fragile children, it MATTERED.

And I cared.

I cared what they thought of me.

I cared about their well-being.

I didn’t want them to live in fear of me.

And now they no longer would.

It would take a long time to undo the damage that the Marsyas story had inflicted on all the satyrs. There were  so many satyrs, and it had been passed down for so, so long.

But that wouldn’t stop me from trying.

It was simply one step on my quest to improve things for mortals, and to improve MYSELF.

And I had just taken another step.

[cameronspecial]

Sent From A Goddess (Ch.2)

Pairing: Demigod! Tom Holland x Demigod! Reader

Summary: (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is the daughter of Poisedon, and for twelve years she was all alone. Growing up at camp without any family and watching people she is closed to come in and out of her life has caused her to close up. So she made a rule, the only people she is allowed to be truly close to is her brother, his family, Chiron, Tyson, Annabeth, and Grover. When Tom in his brothers come around, will he be able to break that rule?  

Word Count: 2 005

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Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | 

Tom and his brothers had been at Camp Half-Blood for a week now and it was safe to say that they were enjoying themselves. Tom was relatively good when it came to sword fighting, however, he was not the greatest at archery which was ironic because he was the son of Apollo. During the whole week, they have been here, Tom has not once heard her laugh or seen her smile. What happened to her for her to be like this? He wants to see her happy and he wants to help her. He nor any of his brothers could get her to laugh or talk about herself, and that made him even more curious.

(Y/N) sat on the beach with her sketchbook and pencil in hand. Everyone else was training, so all she could hear were the soothing waves and the distant sound of swords clashing together. She mindlessly sketches what was on her mind like usual and this time it was one of her many imaginations of what her mom looked like. Throughout her many sketchbooks pictures of what she thought her mom looks like are scattered all throughout them. She had done everything she can to find her mother, but she never found anything in her 16 years of life. She wants to know who she is other than the daughter of Poseidon. “Why won’t you tell me who she is?” she whispers to no one in particular. Percy stood on the path that leads down to the beach watching at his little sister. Even though they were born the same day in the same year, he always saw her as his baby sister because he was twelve years later. He didn’t like to see his sister likes this and the fact that anything he does doesn’t help makes it worse. He walks towards (Y/N) to keep her company.

She sensed her brother coming near her and closes her sketchbook. “How did you imagine her this time?” he asks softly. He sits down next to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. She opens up the sketchbook to show her brother. He smiles at the drawing of the beautiful woman that looks like (Y/N). “I decide to make her look more like me this time,” she tells him. “Well, like all of your drawing it looks amazing,” he praises. All she can do is nod and close the sketchbook again. Percy sighs, “You know you can talk to me about anything right?” He knows that she has closed herself off ever since Luke died and it was killing him that he couldn’t make her feel better. She whispers I know before getting up and walking off. Percy sees that she left her sketchbook and takes a look at some of her drawings. They were all so sad. He felt like he could feel her grieving. Annabeth walks up to Percy and sits with him. “Did she blow you off again?” Annabeth questions. She knew how much this was hurting Percy because she felt the same way. She couldn’t help her best friend feel better and that bothered both of them. “I know how you feel. I tried talking to her this morning at breakfast and she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t tell me how she felt. Percy, she’s getting worse by the day and I am worried. Who knows how she is feeling or what she is thinking?” Annabeth worries. “I know, but I promise Wise Girl that I am doing everything I can to help her and I will continue too until she is better,” Percy vouched, Annabeth started crying and all he could do was bring her face into the crook of his neck.

(Y/N) watches in horror as Percy hands over the knife to Luke. She watches as the person she used to trust and still love plunges the knife into himself. She tries to run towards him to stop him, but Percy holds her back. Luke lies on the ground slowly bleeding out, but instead of dying as he did in real life, his body changes to look like Kronos. Everyone else disappears so that it’s just her and Kronos in the darkness. He stands up and walks towards her. She felt absolutely powerless. She couldn’t move her feet; she was frozen in fear. “You’re a nobody. You couldn’t save them and you won’t be able to save the rest. Not Percy, Not Annabeth, Not Grover,” Kronos continues to list the people she loved and the people that she has lost. Then it kept getting worse. Darian appears in front of Kronos. He begged and pleaded to be let free. Kronos just laughs and a sword appears in his hand. He raises it ready to plunge it into Darian’s heart and all she can do is scream and watch.  

Before the sword plunges into his heart, (Y/N)’s eyes flutter open and her screams could be heard throughout the cabin. Percy is standing over her bed, shaking her awake. “You’re okay. You’re okay,” he promises as he holds her close to his chest. Once she calms down, she told Percy thank you and that he should head to bed. She makes sure he is asleep before putting her hair in a ponytail and putting her shoes on. She opens the door quietly and sneaks out. She passes the archery range as she makes her way to the climbing wall. She notices that a mop of brown hair was at the range where he was not supposed to be. She recognizes him as Thomas Holland, one of the newest campers, and decides to watch. She leans against the tree and observes. He draws back the string with the arrow and then let's go. The arrow doesn’t fly through the air as it would normally, the arrow drops to the floor which was funny because he is the son of Apollo. She doesn’t know what overcame her, but she starts giggling for the first time in months.  Tom’s head snaps in the direction that he heard the giggling come from. He smiles when he sees that it was (Y/N); he finally gets to see that beautiful smile of hers.

She immediately stops when she sees that he was staring at her. “You know for a child of Apollo you are pretty shit with a bow and arrow,” she claims with her face turning back to its serious expression. Tom laughs and looks at her, “Yeah, well it’s not liked I asked to be his son and these things are harder then they look.” (Y/N) just shakes her head and taps her ring two times to change it into a bow and arrow. She walks up to the target, draws back the string with the arrow, and lets it go. It flies through the air and hits the bullseye of the target. She draws back another arrow and it splits the first arrow. She does the same thing two more times then looks at Tom with you were saying written on her face. “It’s not as hard as you think,” she brags with a wicked smile before turning the bow back into a ring. “Teach me,” he says in awe. He had never seen anyone that good, not even Will. (Y/N) just shakes her head as she walks away, “I am sorry, but I don’t teach anymore.” That was the first thing that she ever told him about herself and that made him hope. Hope that maybe he can get her to smile again.

She got to the rock wall when and gets ready to climb. “You’re really going to climb that thing in the middle of the night with no one around. Doesn’t seem very safe,” Tom comments as he watches her get closer to the wall. The girl scoffs and begins climbing the wall, “I have been climbing these walls ever since I was little, and I think I will be fine.” If Tom keeps this going, then he can finally learn more about her. “Well, I just want to make sure you are safe,” he admits out loud. He wouldn’t tell anyone just yet, but he may have developed a tiny crush on the mysterious girl. “I don’t need you to protect me. I am pretty sure you're supposed to be in your cabin, so why don’t you go back,” she claims, by now she was half-way up the wall which amazed Tom. “Yeah, well maybe I’ll keep you some company and try the wall myself,” Tom announces as he starts climbing the wall. She looks down at him, she wouldn’t admit it, but she definitely felt a bit of concern towards him. “I don’t care what you do or about you.” Tom ignores her, knowing that it was not true, and continues to copies what she is doing.

(Y/N) was standing at the top of the climbing wall, watching Tom climb up towards her. He tried to remember what holds she used to get up, but his memory failed him and he wasn’t fast enough to get up. The lava started slowly pouring when he was so close to the top; what was worse was that his hand couldn’t hold on anymore and he let go. (Y/N) was quick to grab onto his wrists and pull him up beside her. “That’s why you use the rope and harness, you dimwit,” she scolds, she pressing the button to stop the lava and starting to descend the wall. “Umm, how am I supposed to get down?” he croaks. He did not think this through. (Y/N) shakes her head and belays the harness up to him. “Put that on!” she shouts to him. Tom nods his head and does as he is told. Once he gets it on, she starts bringing him down slowly. He had to admit that he was a little afraid, but he trusted her. “My knight in shining armour,” Tom gushes with his hands over his heart. “Shut it, Holland. Now, get back to your cabin before I call the harpies to eat you up,” she growls before she storms off to her cabin.

Percy’s head darts toward the sound of his sister coming through the door. He lets out a sigh of relief, “Thank the gods you are okay. You know I worry when you are not in bed. What happened to you? Your closes are burnt to a crisp.” (Y/N) mumbles that she is okay and continues to collect a change of clothes for her. She walks into the private bathroom Chiron built for her cabin. She turns on the faucet of the bathtub and watches the water drain into it. Once it was full, (Y/N) starts to strip off the burnt clothes and examines herself in the mirror. Through the mirror, she could see the scar that was approximately 15 cm. It started from the top of her right shoulder and goes in towards her shoulder blade. The incident may have happened 7 years ago, but the scar still remains as a reminder for what happened.

The young female sinks herself into the tub and watches the water swish around in the tub. The music plays in the background whilst she is deep in thought. Why did Tom insist on trying to get to know her? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone like everyone else? Whatever he is doing, she does not like it. He may be handsome and cause other girls heart to flutter, but he didn’t have that effect on her. If the children of Aphrodite could know what she was thinking, they would say that she was crazy. They would say that his good looks, muscles, and delightful singing voice is perfect boyfriend material. (Y/N) on the other hand, thought that his consistent trying to get to know her was quite annoying. Plus, she would need to know more about him if she were to ever fall head over heels for him, she would need to learn more about him first.

*Tell me what you thought about the chapter here*

Next Chapter Comes Out November the 2nd

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[covenunited]

Apollo: Do you have any talents?

all your muses on this blog

Greek Pantheon Asks

Fancy: “Well, I’m an expert shot with a compound bow, and I’ve been told that my cooking is out of this world. Not that I like to brag, or anything.”

Niyah: “I sketch and paint a lot. I don’t know if that makes me any good at it, but I don’t do it to impress anyone else. I just use it to express myself.”

Lila: “Does seeing into the future not count? Alright, if we’re leaving magic out of it, then I guess I’d say that I’m a pretty smooth talker, and my skills as an amateur bartender are pretty well honed.”

Jace: “I have a green thumb, but that isn’t so much a talent as it is learning what different plants need to grow. Anyone can do that if they’re willing to put in the time and effort. I do like running parkour obstacle courses in my free time, though.”

Tancred: “I have a fair singing voice, but I’m also starting to learn how to play the guitar.”

Casper: “I learn to play a new instrument anytime I get bored with my life it’s a coping mechanism. I can currently play guitar, bass, drums, violin, piano, tambourine, trumpet, trombone, and synthesizers, and I’m in the process of learning to play a type of hand drum called a bodhrán. Aside from that, I also play football and am heavily involved in theater. Think of all that what you will.”

[dfroza]

the Spirit within acts as a deposit of things to come

that will be…

just as an engagement ring

(A pure seed)

marriage itself on earth reflects upon the eternal tapestry of a heavenly marriage to come as a secret elopement away from this world. and there is a beautiful mystery in the way our Creator made the body of a woman to become as “One” body with a man as a lifelong commitment of trust. sex is sacred and is only meant for marriage as a safe space shared in this bond.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 3rd chapter of the Letter of First Corinthians where Paul reflects upon planting a pure seed and the body becoming the Temple of the Spirit:

My brothers and sisters, I cannot address you as people who walk by the Spirit; I have to speak to you as people who tend to think in merely human terms, as spiritual infants in the Anointed One. I nursed you with milk, as a mother would feed her baby, because you were not, and still are not, developed enough to digest complex spiritual food. And here’s why: you are still living in the flesh, not in the Spirit. How do I know? Are you fighting with one another? Are you comparing yourselves to others and becoming consumed with jealousy? Then it sounds like you are living in the flesh, no different from the rest who live by the standards of this rebellious and broken world. If one of you is saying, “I am with Paul,” and the other says, “I am with Apollos,” aren’t you like everybody else? So who is Apollos really? Or Paul for that matter? We are only servants, agents who led you to faith, and the Lord commissioned each of us to do a particular job.

My job was to plant the seed, and Apollos was called to water it. Any growth comes from God, so the ones who water and plant have nothing to brag about. God, who causes the growth, is the only One who matters. The one who plants is no greater than the one who waters; both will be rewarded based on their work. We are gardeners and field workers laboring with God. You are the vineyard, the garden, the house where God dwells. Like a skilled architect and master builder, I laid a foundation based upon God’s grace given to me. Now others will come along to build on the foundation. Each serves in a different way and is to build upon it with great care. There is, in fact, only one foundation, and no one can lay any foundation other than Jesus the Anointed. As others build on the foundation (whether with gold, silver, gemstones, wood, hay, or straw), the quality of each person’s work will be revealed in time as it is tested by fire. If a man’s work stands the test of fire, he will be rewarded. If a man’s work is consumed by the fire, his reward will be lost but he will be spared, rescued from the fire. Don’t you understand that together you form a temple to the living God and His Spirit lives among you? If someone comes along to corrupt, vandalize, and destroy the temple of God, you can be sure that God will see to it that he meets destruction because the temple of God is sacred. You, together, are His temple.

Don’t let anyone deceive himself. If any one of you thinks he is wise in matters pertaining to this world, he is going to be really disappointed. In fact, one must be deemed a fool by worldly standards in order to become truly wise because the wisdom of this rebellious and broken world looks like foolishness when put next to God. So it stands in Scripture, “He catches the wise in their deceitful plotting.” And the Scriptures add, “The Lord knows the highest thoughts of the wise, and they are worthless.” So there is no reason for anyone to boast in human leaders. You already have it all. So whether it is Paul, Apollos, Cephas, the world, life or death, the present or the future—it all belongs to you. You belong to the Anointed One, and the Anointed One belongs to God.

The Letter of 1st Corinthians, Chapter 3 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 38th chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah which documents a poem written by King Hezekiah:

Meanwhile, back in Judah, Hezekiah became very sick and was about to die. Learning of it, Isaiah, Amoz’s son, went to visit him.

Isaiah: Here is what the Eternal One has to say:

Eternal One: Get your affairs in order. You are going to die. You are not going to recover from this.

Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and started praying.

Hezekiah: Eternal One, I beg you to remember how I have followed the path You set before me, and how I did so with all my heart. Remember how I have done what You wanted with sincerity of purpose every step of the way.

Then Hezekiah broke down and wept. He wept and wept. Then a different word from the Eternal came upon the prophet Isaiah.

Eternal One: Go and tell Hezekiah that the Eternal, the God of your ancestor David, says: “I have heard your prayer, and I have seen your tears. I’ve decided to add another 15 years to your life. Not only that, but I will also rescue you and this city and not allow you to fall under the control of the Assyrian king. I Myself will protect this city, Jerusalem. You’ll know that I, the Eternal One, will keep My promise by this sign: I will make the sun’s shadow—which has climbed these steps of Ahaz’s stairway—go backward 10 steps.”

And the shadow on the stairway moved backward 10 steps. When Hezekiah, king of Judah, recovered from his illness, he composed a poem.

Hezekiah: I thought for sure in the prime of my life

that I’d been brought to the gates of death,

that I’d miss out on the rest of my years.

I thought: That’s it. I will never again see the Eternal in the land of the living.

I will never again enjoy the company of those alive in this world.

My time on earth is folded up and packed away like a shepherd’s tent.

It’s as if a weaver has snipped me off from the loom and rolled me up.

From day to night You bring my life to an end.

I stay calm until morning arrives,

then like a lion He breaks all my bones.

From day to night You bring my life to an end.

Oh, how I argue and mourn for my passing life!

Like a swallow or a crane I twitter;

like a lonesome dove I moan.

My eyes become bleary from looking up to the heavens for help.

I cry, “O Lord, way up high, I am oppressed; come and help me!”

But what can I say? God has spoken to me.

Things are as He made them.

So I am determined to go slowly, make the most of my years,

even though I am bitter to the core.

But I so wanted to live! So I prayed, “Lord, by these things, people live

and my spirit is grounded in the same.

So heal me, let me live!”

Paradoxically, my bitter experience was pushing me toward wholeness.

For You, God, have put behind all my shortcomings and wrongdoings.

You have rescued me from death.

You pulled me from a black hole of nothingness and held me close to You.

And so I join the living in giving thanks to You.

After all, thankful voices never rise from the land of the dead.

After all, the songs of praise never soar from death’s dark realm.

Those who go down into the pit—that great black nothingness—

They can’t even begin to hope for Your faithfulness.

But ah, the living! And I am among them today,

giving praise and thanks to You for life,

The old telling the young about the loyalty of Your love.

The Eternal will rescue me,

and we will break out the stringed instruments.

We will sing and make music for the rest of our lives,

right here in the house of the Eternal.

Isaiah instructed the physicians to apply a compress of squashed figs to the boil on Hezekiah’s skin to help him recover.

Hezekiah: When will I know that I am well enough to go to the Eternal’s house? Is there a sign I should look for?

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 38 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, july 16 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about new identity:

At the time of his baptism, the heavens were torn open and the Spirit descended on Yeshua like a dove. The Heavenly Voice then proclaimed: "You are my son; my beloved: my favor rests upon you" (Mark 1:11). The Voice from heaven not only validated Yeshua's ministry before the others, but it more radically revealed that the blessing of his relationship with God - his chosenness - was something we could ultimately know as well: "You are my beloved child; my favor rests upon you." The Voice was given for our sake -- so that we might know (John 12:30).

Baptism, after all, represents being identified and immersed with God's life: it is like a rebirth or a "crossing over" from the realm of this world to that of the realm of the spirit; from the old to the new... When we hear (shema) the Heavenly Voice within our own hearts saying, "Fear not; you are my beloved child: I have chosen you to know me," you come alive to inherit the blessing of knowing God as your Father, your Abba, your friend...

"O heavenly Father -- O Abba -- help me to know myself as your beloved child, chosen and forever loved by you from the foundation of the world... My heart yearns for you; from the inmost depths do I need you; I cry out; my heart aches, for your blessing is this: that my heart would know you, and that in my great need you would forever be my beloved, my life, my beginning and my end, my all in all. Amen." [Hebrew for Christians]

7.15.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

July 16, 2021

Whom Shall I Fear?

“The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1)

Think back to your youngest childhood days. Do you remember being afraid of the dark? Were you scared when your parents turned off the nightlight?

Flash forward to more logical adult fears—thieves, natural disasters, negative bank account balances, unemployment, public speaking, shark attacks, political turmoil, and death. While some of those fears may seem far-fetched, there are other fears you might encounter that will truly drive you to your knees in prayer.

How would you respond to life-threatening persecution? What if your children recant their faith and abandon everything you’ve taught them from Scripture? Could you handle the loss of loved ones and all of your possessions?

The Bible is filled with examples of faithful believers who suffered (Hebrews 11:36-38). Many of the sorrow-filled Psalms were written by King David. But he wasn’t the only subject of fear, suffering, and trauma. Perhaps you are reminded of Job. He was a godly man. Yet the Lord allowed Satan to torment him, removing nearly every good thing from his life (Job 1:12; 2:6). How could he respond in faith to the One who protected his soul?

In today’s text, David draws our hearts to what Spurgeon calls “a threefold cord which could not be broken.” The Lord is our light, salvation, and strength. And then he asks two rhetorical questions: “Whom shall I fear?...Of whom shall I be afraid?”

With the Lord on your side, you need not fear anyone or anything. His love for you is sure and steadfast. Nothing in the entire universe—darkness, disaster, demons, or the devil—can separate you from His love (Romans 8:38-39). MH

A tweet by illumiNations as a collaborative effort of global Bible translation:

@IlluminationsBT: Meet one of our illumiNations partners - SIL @SILintl. Learn more at: https://www.sil.org

7.15.21 • 12:03pm • Twitter

[savefarris124-blog]

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

Words To Live By: “Do more of what makes you happy.”—a ceramic owl I received during a Secret Santa gift exchange.

Owls are wise, and the purple ceramic one given to me by my former assistant manager Paula was especially so. Yet I have a bad habit of taking on too many things all at once, usually in an effort not to disappoint people. This leads to stress because I feel my time is not my own. To decompress I will then take on a side project I enjoy for the hell of it. Ultimately I end up doing everything half-assed and balls drop. So this holiday season I’m changing some things around, including doing less of what makes me unhappy and more of what makes me actually happy.

I really had to think about this. As I get older the highs are less high. Last week my friends and I went to Harry Potter night at Lifted Spirits Distillery, and one thought stuck with me in the days to come—if I had to face a Dementor right now what sort of memories could I call on to summon a Patronus? So much of life seems bittersweet to me, but dwelling on that never did any good. Instead I want to take a moment to acknowledge the things that send pure jolts of unadulterated joy through my body.

I thought this would make a great subject for a blog post. After all people love it when Oprah talks about her favorite things, and Oprah and I are practically the same person. This entry also works on another level. Christmas is coming, and soon after that comes my birthday. Now really, you don’t have to get me a gift. I’m not expecting any gifts. No gifts please. However if you do insist on a gift I have hidden ideas throughout these entries. See if you can spot them!

1) Comedians and Their Audiobooks

Let’s be real; I will never meet my idols. I could pack my things, sell my house, and move to L.A., but I’m quite sure there is a person in Hollywood paid to misdirect wide-eyed rubes like me if we ever get within 50 feet of a celebrity. Probably the mayor or something.

Alas, there will be no brunch dates with Mindy Kaling, no hilarious text chains with Amy Poehler, and Tina Fey will never want to hear about how I took a screenwriting class in college that was mainly devoted to just watching 30 Rock and learning how to be funny. I mean, even if she did by any chance care about that, there is no way she would be interested in the fact that our final assignment was to write a 30 Rock spec script, and mine had a great plot about how Jenna gets a new boyfriend who is just dating her for her fame, how Liz worries about Jenna’s eventual reaction to this news, and how everything turns out okay in the end because once Jenna discovers the truth she is flattered that someone would think she is famous enough to use for status. And surely Tina Fey wouldn’t care that I probably still have a copy of this script of stashed away someplace and I would consider it a privilege to tear through all my belongings until I could find it for her, would she? WOULD SHE?

Where was I? Ah yes, audiobooks. So much better than regular books. I like to listen to them while driving because one day I realized I didn’t recognize half the songs playing on the radio. Now after two years of listening to thoughtful, inspiring books on my commutes I can proudly say I know zero songs on the radio.

I like memoirs by funny people because the comedians read their own works, so it’s almost the same thing as having them in my car. Currently I’m listening to My Squirrel Days by Ellie Kemper aka Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt aka my spirit animal. Ellie has a way of infusing low-stakes situations with such high amounts of drama so everyday life turns into a picture of pure absurdity. Her personality comes across so genuinely sweet and down-to-earth that you can almost forget that her family built Kemper Arena, meaning she grew up with enough money to try and fail at pretty much anything and still turn out just fine. That was a compliment Ellie; please be my best friend.

2) My Old 90s Christmas Tape

It’s true that the holidays burn me out. I still have slight PTSD from working retail, so whenever the halls get decked and the carols start playing I always look out of the corner of my eye for the person about to yell at me for ruining Christmas. I have morphed into Charlie Brown at the beginning of A Charlie Brown Christmas except it takes more than 30 minutes to solve my problems and my therapist insists on charging more than 5 cents.

There is only one part of the holiday season that brings unquestioned joy, and that is the totally awesome Christmas Tape my mom made for me as a child. Remember the days before streaming when if you wanted to watch something you either had to watch it live or pray Blockbuster had it in stock? Well my mother never let “the man” at Big TV dictate her viewing habits. She let a screaming 6-year-old who wanted to watch Christmas cartoons in July do that for her, thank you very much.

Yes, my awesome mom recorded over 6 hours of your favorite holiday specials onto VHS. You want A Charlie Brown Christmas? We’ve got that, plus the lesser known It’s Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown which comes first on the tape because we don’t care about things like “chronological order” and maybe also because the classic one aired later in the month. From Frosty the Snowman to Inspector Gadget Save Christmas to Winnie-the-Pooh and Christmas Too this tape is made of nothing but pure nostalgia, and my only complaint is that we couldn’t fit even more holiday specials on it. Specials like A Miser Brothers’ Christmas or the epic Pac-Man: Christmas Comes to Pac-Land.

I could end on that heavy hint, but I need to say something more about this tape. Yes I love the specials, but what takes this tape from “nice gesture” to “prized possession that must be saved in case of fire” are the commercials. 90s advertising at its absolute finest. For instance:

This Cool Whip classic that wants you to believe non-dairy whipped topping is the new ranch dressing: 

The toy I’m still waiting for Santa to bring me:

Watch advertisers show that the quality of the product doesn’t matter if you can blatantly market it to children:

And finally I present Macauley Culkin’s entire reality falling apart: 

3) Raw Cookie Dough

Look, I know all about the CDC’s warnings against eating raw cookie dough. The flour could be contaminated with E.coli, the eggs could be festering with salmonella, and spending 12-15 minutes in the oven infuses the dough with enough magic power to grant a wish. Well guess what? I don’t care! That fudge I made for Hanukkah called for uncooked flour, raw eggs gave Rocky the physical edge needed to lose his big fight against Apollo Creed, and I just made that last one up. Remember folks, you can’t believe everything you read on the internet.

Still, because I occasionally listen to medical advice and am also too lazy to whip up batches of cookie dough on a whim, I sometimes like to indulge myself with a treat from The Cookie Dough Café. This wonderful company knows that I demand my vanilla butter sugar in its purest form, and is proud to offer a product both delicious and healthy. I mean it totally counts as a health food if I’m avoiding the CDC death ingredients, right? Right.

4) Sunny Days

I won’t knock the gym. I joined Planet Fitness last year and from then until now I lost 25 lbs. Not a staggering amount over the course of a year, but it does mean that for the first time in a decade I weigh less than what I put on my driver’s license. I don’t mean to humble brag here. I mean to brag brag.

I couldn’t have done that without a place to workout in the wintertime. That being said you will never, ever, ever convince me that a workout in the gym is even a quarter as good as a walk outside. A walk outside offers you sunshine and fresh air. The gym offers you harsh fluorescent lighting and the lingering stench of recycled body odor.

Outside my house there is a walking trail. Sometimes I pass deer grazing and I slowly, slowly creep toward them, pretending that I myself possess the gentle grace of a forest creature. “I am Snow White,” I tell myself. “If life gets too scary I will face it with a smile and song, and the sun will shine down on me and all of my new animal friends that will help me clean my house.”

Inside the gym I pass neon painted elliptical gliders that loudly beep at me if my heart rate falls outside selected parameters. Ke$ha blares from an overhead sound system, and my attempts to drown her out by streaming Disney music are all for naught.

Belle sings, “Little town, it’s a quiet village.”

Ke$ha screams, “He’s going down! I’m yelling timber!”

Belle coos, “Every day like the one before.”

“You better move! You better dance!”

Belle continues, undeterred, “Little town filled with little people, waking up to say…”

“SWING YO’ BUTT ROUND AND ROUND! END OF THE NIGHT IT’S GOING DOWN!”

Belle gives up, and we both grab some of that edible cookie dough to ease our disappointment.

My roundabout point here is that the gym sucks, and half of my time spent writing is an excuse not to go there. Also if someone wants to buy me a trip to Disney World right about now, I won’t say no.

[rfhusnik]

The Return Of The Man From The Green City Part One

                                      Written By: Rashon Leyf I’ve heard they’re all special in the eyes of the universal masters; thus, I’ll send this to those I consider to be especially so. And, after all, let’s face it, they all have their freedoms – still, no matter have past dictators, radicals of the political left or right, religious zealots, or radio and television talk show hosts tried to wrest those opportunities to tell an ever-changing world that they’re real, and that they matter, from them. Outside today, the most significant of the twelve months nears its ending. But, despite its unusual entrance from March, this year’s installment of April still provided its supplied and usual symbolisms. Now is a new beginning. Now is a chance to start over - but only if we’re really sorry for mistakes we’ve made. And, although we’re told all is warming, April promised us the reality of a cold and bitter winter which might easily last beyond its appropriateness. But, in my mind, and probably for a long time (well into May or June) I’ll tell myself it’s still April beginning. And using that prosaic template, I’ll now write these words to a very special man who’s come to us yet once more from his home in the green city. My recognition is that yesterday, had we known then what we know today, we might have avoided certain evil. Yet, the plastic component we applied to past mistakes allowed them to show  through when, in momentary comprehensions, their content seemed especially blameful. And, thus, most likely they’ll now remain in our minds no matter if they were forgiven. But, some of life’s travelers say their errors can now be placed in an altered perspective by a new wind just beginning to blow from the left side of morality.   And a lot of people may not realize what the actual consequences of what they wish for would  be. And such people usually only judge the conduct of others. Their own actions are left without critique. And sometimes such people quickly condemn honest efforts of others, yet have no resolutions to offer for problems they can’t help but note. And, often the small victories such people supposedly achieve, are eventually shown to be but normal byproducts of time passing by.   And just now, as I’m looking at the list of items Ralph wants me to “touch upon” in this piece, I can see that I’ll probably need to ask him to divide this particular writing into two posts – something I know he dislikes doing. But, I fear there’s just too much to be said here. And, oh yes, I have some of my own “stuff” to share also. First of all, Amber and I receive numerous contacts from people who say they’re concerned about us. And for that, we’re humbled. And we thank all those who keep us in their thoughts and prayers.   But, in reply I must say, “No, Amber and I aren’t the only minority type people living in this city – not by a long shot! Truthfully, the ratio of whites to minorities here is basically the same as anywhere else in this nation, although this city is not like any other in the nation – and again, not by a long shot! And, a number of other blacks and Hispanics were already living here when Amber and I arrived here. And Amber and I made a conscious decision to relocate here. We moved here at the beckon call of Ralph Hawk, who had convinced both of us that his “calling” was indeed based on other realities of earthly life. And thus, since no one, including minorities lives what would probably be termed a “normal” existence in this city, Amber and I have decided upon this bold approach to life here. We’ve determined that we’ll not allow anyone, regardless of his or her race or political or religious background, to inflict any sort of blame, or condemnation of lifestyle upon us. And we’ll live our lives as we please in this city of strangeness, despite any outside criminal sexual conduct by males, radical feminism by females, domestic and international terrorism, fake news, religious problems which run the gamut from intolerance to careless statements made to the media, illegal immigration problems, bureaucrats and politicians in the nation’s capital who care only about themselves, media and entertainment characters who bend the truth, tell outright lies, and make fools of themselves as they host mid-day and late night television programs on which they demean national leaders and their spouses, and ridiculous probes (conducted at great taxpayer expense) into supposed events which never occurred. And Amber and I will never leave this city. And had you ever been so fortunate as to have been asked to relocate here, you’d have made the same commitment. But, one of the sad things I’ve noticed while I’ve been here, is that stories come and go from inside to outside this city, and then also from outside to inside it. And many times I and many others can’t know if the happenings and people spoken of in those tales ever really happened, or ever really existed in the world you and I know as real.   And so we face the eternal quandary yet again when we confront such anecdotes as the one about the teenager who drove a 1957 Chev, but had to leave it behind, and begin to enjoy a 1967 Airplane when he was forced to relocate near Haight-Ashbury because of draft board harassment. And then we also heard of the young literary woman who hated all men because her dad didn’t want her to move to Manhattan. And of course there was also the one about the guys who supposedly tied a pair of men’s long underwear across a roadway late at night, only to have it become entangled in a school bus’s rear view mirror the next morning.     And what about the guy who threw a bag of garbage on the lawn of some people who lived a few miles away, only to find it lying on his own lawn the next day? And then of course there was the one about the guy and woman who got caught pleasuring one another in a school broom closet; and, a couple of people even said that man was the same guy whom the cops had pulled over only weeks earlier because he’d been, as they termed it, “playing car tag” with another vehicle which had left the scene just before they’d arrived on it. And, of course, while speaking of sex and cars, there’s also the one about the guy and girl in the back seat of a police car which was being driven by an officer at the time. Someone said they may have been doing things they shouldn’t have been doing as he drove them to the police station.   But the one that always got me the most, was the one in which the guy who was always bragging about how good his cigarettes were, was hauled out of his home one day and taken down to the municipal court where he was made to testify before a judge. “Okay, tell this court the truth about the complaints we’ve heard about you. Have you been lying to your family, friends, and others?” asked the judge. “No, your honor” replied the hapless chap. “Every word I’ve said is true. I only smoke such types of cigarettes which I’ve learned through experience will deliver full rich tobacco flavor to me. And, also, I prefer those brands which feature what I term ‘easy drawing filters’. With such types of filters I needn’t strain myself every time I wish to take a drag. But, I’m still waiting for the development of what I call ‘glowing filters’. With such cigarettes, you know, guys like me, who like to ‘tie one on’ every once in a while, won’t need to worry about lighting the wrong ends of our cigarettes when we leave a bar, and it’s real dark outside.” But those stories constitute but a meager few of the many that reach us here in the city. There are many more – many many more! But I can’t repeat any more now. I’ve allotted enough space to such tales already. And yet, I’ve told the ones I’ve always found to be the most fascinating; except for one other which I’ll (hopefully be able to) relate in the second installment of this posting. And I know that as a person of color, my thoughts should focus much more upon such places and topics as the enslavement of my ancestors, what happened at the Lorraine Hotel fifty years ago, what’s “going down” in the hood, who’s performing at the Apollo, and many other such topics. And I do often think about those things. But yet, sometimes, I can’t help it, I find myself picturing that young man in San Francisco long ago. And can you see him? He’s placing a new covering across a window through which he often peers and sees people and a city in motion. And he knows those people and that large city (by the bay) are waiting and praying for an end to a worthless war being fought far away. And in the past I often asked about that young girl who radically disliked males. “Did she ever make it to Manhattan?” And one day someone finally answered that question for me. “Yes,” she said. “But she only stayed there for a brief while. She didn’t like New York. It wasn’t what she thought it would be.” “Where is she now? And what’s she doing now?” I asked then.   “I heard she’s moved to the capital of France. And now she lives with two other females not far from Tour Eiffel.” But see, such are the mind wanderings which occur to some of us here in this city when we receive a rare visit from that so-called “man from the green city”. And while he was still here, I asked him, “Man from the green city, why don’t you relocate here, and live with us in this city?” “I’m not worthy to live among people such as you” he replied. But then he also said, “But you know, someone told me that the man from the blue city might move here soon.” I’ve always believed that there’s only so much melding that can be done in a melding pot. So, instead of subjecting many mortals to pot, and extreme racial blending, maybe the leaders of our times should stress that all mortals should try to live out their lives in the nations in which they were born. And, also, it might be likewise constructive if we could hold on to the greatest of the legal differences between respective races. And when I look out the back window, and notice quietude, that’s when I’m happy! And I’m especially joyous when it’s that month which, by its very nature offers all men and women a chance to start over once again. Yes, obliging month, you who begin with a day dedicated to fools, you’re inclusive message is anything but foolish. And, on this day of the calendar’s fourth month, I want to express my sincere basic thanks to all such citizens of The United States Of America who, by one legal means or another (employment in either the private or public sectors, or in group or self-employment situations, or in retirement, or as investors, etc.) are supplying themselves with what they need to survive. But I also have words of encouragement for those who are truthfully working toward the goal of that previous sentence. And, I especially honor those who, while they support themselves, also strive to better life for others in the American states. And recently my friends Renni Maes and F. John Surells were married in a very nice white wedding. And since then, of course everyone here in our city has been asking when Amber and I will likewise “tie the knot”. The answer:  Soon, but ours will be a very nice non-white wedding. And my friends, if I’ve never said or written this to you before, hear or read it now:  We who live in this city are especially charged to both watch for, and comment upon possible mistakes and evils which we may note surfacing in societies outside our guarded existence! And in that vein then, and without any further discussion on my part (and without any further discussion simply because I have so much else to say in this piece and can’t allot any more words to this subject), “Woe to the Christian religion when its greatest ambassador tells an unknowing world that Lucifer’s domain does not really exist! And if Lucifer’s domain doesn’t really exist, are we to infer then that he also is only a myth? The Christian Bible, though presented with differing amounts of “books” by various Christian denominations, does contain many references to hell and Lucifer (or Satan as he’s more often called). And it also often warns Christians of the deviousness of Satan and his subordinate angels (or devils as they’ve been referred to since their “falling out with God”). And if there is no hell, and no Lucifer to provide some sort of punishment to those who, without ever expressing sincere remorse for doing so, continue to practice great evil, then what else is there but temporal courts to chastise such types? And what if evildoers die in the commission of great evil, or before the date a temporal court was to have sentenced them for their crimes? And be honest, don’t you believe that the lack of any fear of what might befall one in an afterlife could serve as a motivation for one to commit heinous temporal acts?   And I’d ask you also to think upon probably the greatest (and worst) example of such a person I’ve just now been alluding to. What about Adolf Hitler? He committed suicide before facing any court. And, in the absence of any hell, are we to believe then that the person who’s usually considered the most diabolical of all time simply “faded away” and was never held accountable for what he’d done? I’m a man who has certain personal initiatives, but yet, I’m probably more of a reactor to the reported actions (real or fake) of others. And thus I guess I’m only asking for common sense in regard to the so-called “gun debate” of recent times. And I’m recognizing that certain guns should be outlawed, and that measures must be taken to keep guns away from the mentally ill. But, I’m admitting that the second part of the previous sentence will be difficult to achieve. And, while I’m sympathizing with the victims of gun violence, I’m also understanding that just like alcohol and illegal drugs which once were, and currently still are banned from public ownership, guns will never fade away from the reality of everyday life in the U.S.A. Oh, but the strangeness of the city I live in overwhelms my being every moment of every day. And the masters of literature, about whom, and to whom I’ll speak in what I’m assuming will be the second part of this piece, continue to organize my existence here, while they simultaneously grant new freedoms to all (including myself) users of creative words. And the last thing I asked the man from the green city before his departure was “Is life improving in the green city?”   And he answered, “Oh, it basically stays the same, except perhaps that some say it’s real existence and significance are at this time still untitled. Yet, personally, I’m always trying to be good; but I guess human robots and football personnel are the real heroes near the Fox River.”  

[njawaidofficial]

This New Film Is Resurrecting Ted Kennedy’s Darkest Scandal

https://styleveryday.com/2018/04/07/this-new-film-is-resurrecting-ted-kennedys-darkest-scandal/

This New Film Is Resurrecting Ted Kennedy’s Darkest Scandal

Andria Blackman and Jason Clarke in Chappaquiddick.

Claire Folger

On the night of July 18, 1969, Sen. Ted Kennedy — the last surviving son of the powerful Kennedy political dynasty — drove his car off of a small, wooden bridge on Chappaquiddick, a sandy speck of an island off the coast of Massachusetts. He somehow escaped, but even though his 28-year-old passenger, Mary Jo Kopechne, was still trapped in the partially submerged car, Kennedy did not report the accident for another 10 hours. Kopechne died, sparking a media frenzy, and the incident effectively ended Kennedy’s hopes of ever ascending to the presidency. For a time, the word “Chappaquiddick” rivaled “Watergate” as a metaphor for catastrophic political scandal.

Kennedy’s career, however, not only didn’t end — it thrived for 40 more years until his death in 2009. “There was no other senator in my lifetime that achieved more than him,” said director John Curran (Tracks, The Painted Veil), whose new film Chappaquiddick, opening today, re-creates the events surrounding the scandal. Curran was 9 years old when Kennedy and Kopechne’s faces shared the front pages with the Apollo 11 moon landing, and his family and the Kopechnes lived in neighboring towns in New Jersey. But as it was for so many others, the incident ultimately faded for Curran into a fuzzy footnote in Kennedy’s storied career as one of the country’s most successful and respected senators.

“As an admirer of Ted Kennedy, I recognize that [Chappaquiddick] was a blind spot that I didn’t really think about,” said Curran. “I conveniently dismissed it.”

Then in 2015, Curran read a screenplay about the event by rookie writers Taylor Allen and Andrew Logan that made the year’s Black List, the annual survey of the best unproduced screenplays in Hollywood. The filmmaker realized just how little he actually knew about even the basic details of the incident. “I was surprised,” he said. “I would never have put it on the same weekend as the moon landing, for instance.” (Indeed, putting the first person on the moon may have been the only event that could have possibly distracted the American public’s attention from the Chappaquiddick scandal.)

The real Sen. Edward M. Kennedy, as he leaves the Dukes County Courthouse in Edgartown, Massachusetts, on July 25, 1969, after pleading guilty to leaving the scene of a fatal auto accident on Chappaquiddick Island.

Ted Dully/The Boston Globe via Getty Images

More to the point, Curran recognized just how central Chappaquiddick really was to Kennedy’s life, and how vital to understanding the impact he had on the American political landscape.

“However it’s been managed over the years, ultimately history’s going to own Ted Kennedy’s legacy, and I’d like to be a part of at least being honest about this chapter that really defines him,” he said.

Curran said that the production declined to approach the Kennedy family about the film, with the expectation that no one would comment directly anyway. “We got some contact through people that represented them to voice their displeasure in it,” he said. “But there was no dark conspiracy about trying to shut down the film or anything like that.” (When reached by BuzzFeed News, a spokesperson for the Edward M. Kennedy Institute declined to comment.)

And although Kennedy’s cousin and aide Joe Gargan (Ed Helms) ends up becoming the moral center of the film, Curran and Helms also decided against reaching out to him. “I didn’t see the value in kicking that hornet’s nest,” Curran said. (Gargan died in 2017.)

“There’s no way you’re going to come up with a version of it that absolves Ted of responsibility.”

That could be because the film takes an unsparing look at both Kennedy (played by Mudbound‘s Jason Clarke) and the political machine that rallies around him at the behest of his father, Joe (Bruce Dern), leveraging the power of the Kennedy family legacy to obfuscate the truth and protect his political future. At nearly every moment, just about everyone makes the politically expedient choice rather than the obvious moral one, starting with Kennedy’s maddening decision to huddle with Gargan and a friend, US Attorney Paul Markham (Jim Gaffigan), instead of immediately calling the police and reporting the incident. The film makes it devastatingly clear that Kopechne (Kate Mara) likely did not drown, and died instead of suffocation after breathing all the usable air left trapped in the car. Had authorities been alerted much earlier, there was a chance she could have survived the crash.

“It is a damning portrait because there’s no other way to tell it,” said Curran. “There’s no way you’re going to come up with a version of it that absolves Ted of responsibility.”

The filmmakers were also acutely aware from the start that a major feature film showcasing the worst moments of one of the foremost liberal leaders of the last 40 years could be wielded as a right-wing partisan weapon.

“Of course it will be,” said Curran. “There will be glee from right-leaning people who didn’t like Teddy Kennedy. But that doesn’t discount that it happened. … I would hope that the film is stronger than that, and it is seen as a more nuanced portrait.” The film does explore how the reputations of Kennedy’s late brothers John (a president) and Bobby (a senator and nearly a president) were a crushing burden for Ted at the time, especially just a year after Bobby’s assassination. (Kopechne had worked as a secretary on Bobby’s 1968 presidential campaign.) But it also portrays a Democratic establishment that was so deeply invested in Ted Kennedy’s political career that the fixers brought in to save it are furious with Kennedy for not being smarter about saving himself at the expense of the truth.

Director John Curran (center) on the set of Chappaquiddick.

Claire Folger

And it’s that depiction of how a powerful, national politician and his allies scramble to hold onto political power in the wake of a self-evidently ruinous personal failure that Curran believes is especially relevant for our currently fraught political climate. The film was shot in the fall of 2016, largely in and around Chappaquiddick Island, and the similarities between the heated political divisions of the late 1960s and the bitter rancor kicked up in the final months of the 2016 presidential campaign — including a national candidate winning the White House despite bragging on tape about sexually assaulting women — were impossible to miss.

“There’s that primal thing that, whether you’re left-leaning or right-leaning, you have this sort of in-built allegiance to your team,” he said. “Times when I felt conflicted about this story and Ted, I had to remind myself that I’m screaming for the other side of the aisle to look just as hard at their own candidate.”

He paused. “I don’t know if it will work that way, but how else can you approach this stuff?”

Despite the cynicism inherent in Chappaquiddick — the idea that a powerful enough politician can literally walk away from an accident that ultimately killed a young woman — making the film also left Curran with a slightly less bleak outlook on our current political moment.

“If this accident happened now, Teddy would not have a second chapter,” he said. “It would be over.”