Raysreads - Leafing Through Pages

Do not fear the dark, fear what darkness brings

I love him so much

Who made this.

arthur is such a tragic character and at the same time the most optimistic fiction podcast protagonist i've ever known. and i think those two things correlate. because his specific brand of tragedy has left him with absolutely nothing except hope to hold on to. his will is the only thing he hasn't lost, and that in itself is also a tragedy. he cannot give up, not even when going forward will only hurt him more. there is mercy in death, there is peace in giving up. there's no mercy in putting one foot in front of the other, bracing yourself and moving forward, again and again and again, not to get somewhere safe enough to rest, but just because you cannot stay still. there is no peace in moving forward when you know the world is not done punishing you. the only reason you'd ever keep going is if you believed you deserved it, and believed that by putting yourself through this hell you will eventually have earned your peace.

Awhile ago @ouidamforeman made this post:

This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...

It. It kind of fucks. Severely.

And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.

I'll explain:

As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.

Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.

(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)

Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:

"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." --Genesis 3:24, KJV

Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.

(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.

...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)

So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.

But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:

The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.

Do you understand?

The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.

The flaming sword was given to be used against them.

So. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell leads it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.

That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.

...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.

They're Crowley and Aziraphale.

(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)

In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.

It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.

...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.

And the Serpent--

(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)

--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.

As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:

"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization." --Robert G. Ingersoll

The first to ask questions.

Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).

And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.

And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--

(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)

--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.

To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.

Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.

It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.

And then you write some more.

And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.

(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).

It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)

...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:

I love this shot so much.

Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.

You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.

"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every human being on the planet. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.

But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.

Godfathers. Sort of.

Criminal Minds: A Tribute

After having finally watched the season 15 finale last night, I cannot believe that this amazing show is finally over. I haven’t watched this show since it began airing like some people, nor have I ever watched it episode by episode as it slowly came out on CBS, and some would say that that makes me ‘not a real fan’ but I digress. I have been watching this show for over two and a half years now and it has been some of the best moments of my life.

It all started with two episodes I watched on a whim when they were on cable in a little hotel room in white salmon, Washington. I had already gotten a taste of police procedurals at that point through NCIS (which I have still not finished) and had previously seen criminal minds on my recommended list on Netflix so i thought ‘why not?’ and turned it on. This was still one of the best decisions of my life to date. That might seem super dramatic but the two episodes i watched (10x16 ‘Lockdown’ and 10x17 ‘Breath Play’) were amazing to me. They were just the right amount of creepy and haunting with that dash of genius and psychology and action....it was just perfection in every way. 

So I decided to go back to the beginning and start the whole show from the top.

At first I was confused, the cast was different in season 10, and in season 1 there were all these people i didn't know, but I soon caught up and watched the first few seasons with my mom.It was slow going, I admit, I got home form school and had to quickly watch anywhere from 1 to 3 episodes before my stepdad came home as he didn't like the show but I soon watched all 12 seasons available on Netflix. It was the most bizarre moment when i finished them and sat there for a while with no way to access the rest of the show. Months passed, it seemed to me that the heretofore 2 years of watching the show was over, that I would never finish it. But after 8 months of moving around and waiting, I finally got my hands on the remaining 3 seasons. I binge watched 13 and half of 14 before I procrastinated another 2 months, because I was not ready for it to end.

When I think of Criminal Minds, the first episode that comes to mind is an unusual one. Season 1 episode 14 ‘Ride The Lightning’, I barely remember anything from the earlier season but Ride the Lightning sticks out to me as one of the most heartbreaking episodes on the show. The Woman asking to stay on death row and the car driving away at the end hurts my soul. It has been so long but that episode will forever be seared in my brain.

The second episode that always sporadically comes back to me is the season 2 episode ‘North Mammon’. The idea of 3 girls having to choose whom to kill, is one that shoots shivers down my spine. It was an ugly and tragic episode that will always hurt to watch.

I have loved almost every member in the BAU at some point, some more than others, but my favorite is Dr Spencer Reid. This is probably a typical choice but I don’t care at all. His character arc from a shy and awkward sweater wearing genius to a badass and confident agent is one that is amazing, tragic and sweet all at the same time. In season 1 he cant even shoot a gun but in season 15 he get a 100 on his shooting examination. In the same way, he was often a scrawny ‘pipe cleaner with eyes’ early in the show but in season 14 he swiftly takes down a suspect who lightly shoves Tara. I love how he becomes confident and strong willed but most of this is due to torture, prison, drug addiction, and his girlfriend being shot in front of him which makes his character development horrifying but no less satisfying.

This team...they’re a family. They’ve been blown up, shot, tortured, killed, electrocuted, chased by dogs, hunted down, kidnapped, falsely accused, drugged, imprisoned, and psychologically tormented. They would hurt for each other, kill for each other, die for each other. They were each others mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers. They were more than friends and family in every way that counted. And now it’s....over.

I’m am so blessed that I was able to go on this journey with this amazing cast of characters and they will forever be in my heart, I will never, ever forget the agents of the BAU and I will always list this show as one of the top ten best of all time.

Wheels Up,

Forever.

Yeah so maybe listening to Malevolent 43, the redone Troy/Cyclops Sagas, and topping it all with the Thunder Saga wasn't the *best* idea.

If I consume another piece of media about a mentally ill, hopeless man, so distraught that he betrays all his people and morals-

The Malev duo may be doing better than Ody and the crew but that is *not* saying a lot.

Even the horrible sadness aside, both pieces were so hard hitting for entirely different reasons and I listened to them so closely together. I think I've done myself in with this one boys.

is THIS your man? [shows an image of a malnourished injured exhausted man with big sad eyes looking up at the camera with blood smeared all over his face and mouth. and he is visibly trembling]

From Anthony Bourdain:

Americans love Mexican food. We consume nachos, tacos, burritos, tortas, enchiladas, tamales and anything resembling Mexican in enormous quantities. We love Mexican beverages, happily knocking back huge amounts of tequila, mezcal, and Mexican beer every year. We love Mexican people—we sure employ a lot of them.

Despite our ridiculously hypocritical attitudes towards immigration, we demand that Mexicans cook a large percentage of the food we eat, grow the ingredients we need to make that food, clean our houses, mow our lawns, wash our dishes, and look after our children.

As any chef will tell you, our entire service economy—the restaurant business as we know it—in most American cities, would collapse overnight without Mexican workers. Some, of course, like to claim that Mexicans are “stealing American jobs.”

But in two decades as a chef and employer, I never had ONE American kid walk in my door and apply for a dishwashing job, a porter’s position—or even a job as a prep cook. Mexicans do much of the work in this country that Americans, probably, simply won’t do.

We love Mexican drugs. Maybe not you personally, but “we”, as a nation, certainly consume titanic amounts of them—and go to extraordinary lengths and expense to acquire them. We love Mexican music, Mexican beaches, Mexican architecture, interior design, Mexican films.

So, why don’t we love Mexico?

We throw up our hands and shrug at what happens and what is happening just across the border. Maybe we are embarrassed. Mexico, after all, has always been there for us, to service our darkest needs and desires.

Whether it’s dress up like fools and get passed-out drunk and sunburned on spring break in Cancun, throw pesos at strippers in Tijuana, or get toasted on Mexican drugs, we are seldom on our best behavior in Mexico. They have seen many of us at our worst. They know our darkest desires.

In the service of our appetites, we spend billions and billions of dollars each year on Mexican drugs—while at the same time spending billions and billions more trying to prevent those drugs from reaching us.

The effect on our society is everywhere to be seen. Whether it’s kids nodding off and overdosing in small town Vermont, gang violence in L.A., burned out neighborhoods in Detroit—it’s there to see.

What we don’t see, however, haven’t really noticed, and don’t seem to much care about, is the 80,000 dead in Mexico, just in the past few years—mostly innocent victims. Eighty thousand families who’ve been touched directly by the so-called “War On Drugs”.

Mexico. Our brother from another mother. A country, with whom, like it or not, we are inexorably, deeply involved, in a close but often uncomfortable embrace.

Look at it. It’s beautiful. It has some of the most ravishingly beautiful beaches on earth. Mountains, desert, jungle. Beautiful colonial architecture, a tragic, elegant, violent, ludicrous, heroic, lamentable, heartbreaking history. Mexican wine country rivals Tuscany for gorgeousness.

It's archeological sites—the remnants of great empires, unrivaled anywhere. And as much as we think we know and love it, we have barely scratched the surface of what Mexican food really is. It is NOT melted cheese over tortilla chips. It is not simple, or easy. It is not simply “bro food” at halftime.

It is in fact, old—older even than the great cuisines of Europe, and often deeply complex, refined, subtle, and sophisticated. A true mole sauce, for instance, can take DAYS to make, a balance of freshly (always fresh) ingredients painstakingly prepared by hand. It could be, should be, one of the most exciting cuisines on the planet, if we paid attention.

The old school cooks of Oaxaca make some of the more difficult and nuanced sauces in gastronomy. And some of the new generation—many of whom have trained in the kitchens of America and Europe—have returned home to take Mexican food to new and thrilling heights.

It’s a country I feel particularly attached to and grateful for. In nearly 30 years of cooking professionally, just about every time I walked into a new kitchen, it was a Mexican guy who looked after me, had my back, showed me what was what, and was there—and on the case—when the cooks like me, with backgrounds like mine, ran away to go skiing or surfing or simply flaked. I have been fortunate to track where some of those cooks come from, to go back home with them.

To small towns populated mostly by women—where in the evening, families gather at the town’s phone kiosk, waiting for calls from their husbands, sons and brothers who have left to work in our kitchens in the cities of the North.

I have been fortunate enough to see where that affinity for cooking comes from, to experience moms and grandmothers preparing many delicious things, with pride and real love, passing that food made by hand from their hands to mine.

In years of making television in Mexico, it’s one of the places we, as a crew, are happiest when the day’s work is over. We’ll gather around a street stall and order soft tacos with fresh, bright, delicious salsas, drink cold Mexican beer, sip smoky mezcals, and listen with moist eyes to sentimental songs from street musicians. We will look around and remark, for the hundredth time, what an extraordinary place this is.

I read somewhere you wrote Ares/aphrodite/Hephaestus In a fic, is this true and where is it? I had that same idea, and so happy!!

Thanks for the interest! I did start a PJO reading the books fanfic where they feature and its still only ne chapter even after all this time 😅, but its on my ao3 account also under RaysReads!!!!!