Thinking about how the goddesses in PJO are so much less developed and complex than the gods (mostly).
- Hera is obsessed with the "perfect family" and is reduced to Zeus' angry wife. Zeus gets reduced to a simple villain later on, but in the original series we do get to see that he does have some redeeming qualities in his care for Thalia.
- I really hope Demeter got some more character development in ToA since one of the main characters is her daughter, but in PJO HOO she's just the cereal lady. Hell, doesn't she hide in the underworld with Hades and Persephone during the fight with Typhon? Smh. Compare that to the development Poseidon got with how he does care for Percy but regrets that hid existence will be so full of suffering.
- Athena gets reduced to "cold, emotionless strategist who has really high expectations for her kids." I won't compare her to Ares because he also got hit with the de-nuance-ification beam, but look at how Hermes agonizes over Luke and May's fates and then look at how Athena has been feeding kids to Arachne for thousands of years because she really really wants her statue back.
- Artemis probably gets the most depth of all the goddesses in the original PJO series in that she's a man-hater but still stands up for Percy after he rescues her, but why was she reduced to "hates men" in the first place? Meanwhile, Apollo gets five books about himself.
- Poor Aphrodite, you'll always be more than a ditzy airhead to me. We don't see much of Hephaestus, by comparison, but when we do see him we get a very clear sense who he is.
- While I love Hestia, I won't pretend that being generically nice is any deeper than being generically mean. Show me the Hestia who's the big sister to all the other Kronides! Show me the Hestia who helped kill her father! Meanwhile Dionysus actually has a whole-ass character arc of realizing Percy is different from Theseus and other heroes and indirectly admitting that he cares about his demigod children!
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This is basically a small rant/looking deep into Nom's character FROM WHAT I HAVE READ AND SEEN.
I haven't watched Nom's POV so take this with a grain of salt. Ty!
I don't think bf!Nom fully understands or comprehends other blue member's trauma or other people's trauma in general.
This stems from the conversation he had with Owain on top of the castle. Where Owain yelled that he was taking Nom's penance. That Nom should feel lucky he wasn't punished like 4c.
Because later on we learn that Owain is taking EVERY blue member's penance as well. That he couldn't actually help 4c due to the rogue God not wanting it paid in blood. Owain's blood.
And Nom, from what I understand after he said EXACTLY what Owain said to him up on the castle roofs, didn't understand the weight of it. The weight that EVERYONE (besides Eloise I think) holds due to his actions.
He pushes other's trauma and pain away to force his own onto others. The same people who care and burden themselves with HIS pain.
I don't think Nom deserves to claim he's a person when he treats others like tools for his personal gain. Whose to say he wasn't using Scott or 4c for his own gain?
Oh and speaking of this, I think Nom thought of Apo as a dog. Stemming from the fact he (nor Cherri in that moment) treated her like a person.
That was a blow to the chest for Apo. Especially since her trauma stems from being viewed as a weapon rather than a person. AND it's the same thing with Owain. Nom also thinks of him as a dog. Like yall don't have to agree but he holds orders given to Owain above his head. Like it's so stupid!
Again, I haven't watched his pov, but from what I've seen, he isn't the good person he paints himself to be sometimes. He just keeps hurting those around him, either mentally or physically.
And I love to hate this character because omg we have a heavy hitting character that has his mace back. LETS GOOO
hello flowr of dum fame. I am politely requesting u 2 start crying abt doll murder drones
WELL-
Doll is my favourite charachter in md for SO many reasons. Her motivations and personality are so good for the story and, in ways, contrast uzi. Doll is an outcast, like uzi, but is quieter about it and therefore, "fits in better". She is very quick to feel sorry for uzi in episode 3 once Doll learns uzi has the solver too. She offers help, but her role in the show steps back after ep3. Her motive is to first, kill V. Then find the patch. "Cure herself and then move on" is what I got from her demeanor after a rewatch today.
And then episode 7 happens
The end of episode 6 makes it seem like doll checked off the part of her list she failed in ep3. Kill V. So as I was watching ep6 was thinking that ep 7 was set-up (after the flashback to nori and yeva) to chase doll to the patch and beat her there.possibly fight her as being responsible for the events that led upto V's sacrifice.
But instead we get thrown right into the deep end of the solver.
I'm not complaining! I absolutely love how the solver was introduced. The way that it's been here the entire time but slowly creeping up and getting louder. Episode 7 was the beginning of the end and the solver is a key part in that aspect of the story, and just the story in general, but DAMMIT DOLL WAS SET UP THE BE THE ANTAGONIST FOR EP7.
I personally believe (and my friends have heard it 14 gazillion times) that doll's charachter arc was not completed. She was killed off purely as an unnecessary warning for uzi and to tease cynessa for the second time (cynessa was already shown in ep4). She should've been the main villain for episode seven AT LEAST. Doll shouldnt have died there, or died so easily. Her goal was the patch. She didn't even SEE IT. As much as md was fast paced, doll's arc felt like it was sped up for the pacing of the show.
In ep3 it was set up that's she would be a major antagonist, not THE MAIN one but still one of them. Ep6&7 kinda just made her redundant imo.
I dont wanna say I could write a better murder drones, I couldn't. But I will defend the fact that the blorbo didn't need to die to be an unnecessary warning to a charchter who knew she was already in for some crazy shit.
(Also as much as I am saying this md is my favouriteist show of all time and i wouldn't change a thing abt it. I just am still salty abt doll's death over 2 years later :"[ )
The Avidya Forest had fallen into an eerie silence. The wildlife, wisdom born of instinct, had retreated to their shelters as the sky wept furiously upon the land. Yet, amidst this tempest, a solitary figure cut through the curtain of rain, his steps as steady as a metronome.
The lone wanderer who had traversed Teyvat, fresh from his stay in Port Ormos, set his way towards wherever his legs would take him.
The snippets of conversation he'd overheard at the port flickered through his mind. Merchants discussing trade routes, scholars debating ancient texts, travelers sharing tales of distant lands— all potential seeds for his next journey.
A sudden squelch and a muttered curse interrupted. Around the bend trundled a merchant's caravan, its wheels struggling against the sodden earth.
"Blasted weather!" the gruff voice boomed. The merchant wrestled with the reins of the sumpter beast. His eyes, squinting against the downpour, suddenly widened as they fell upon the Wanderer.
"By the Archons!” The merchant stared, slack-jawed, as if witnessing an apparition materialize from the very rain itself. “Where did you come from?"
The Wanderer tilted his head, sending a cascade of rainwater from the brim of his hat. His response, when it came, was as calm as a still pond amidst the storm's fury.
"The road behind."
A sound of part disbelief, part amusement left the merchant. “I can see that! But out in this weather? You're drenched to the bone!"
In that brief moment, the merchant caught a glimpse of eyes that seemed to hold the weight of centuries, at odds with the youthful face they resided in. Something about it sent an eerie chill though the bones.
Probably the storm.
"This is nothing. I’m used to traveling alone.”
The merchant shook his head. "Well, you won’t be traveling alone much longer. Hop on. I'm bound for Sumeru City. At least there you can seek shelter, kid. "
The Wanderer stood motionless like a statue. Then, with a slight nod that might have been mistaken for a trick of the light, he moved towards the cart.
"I'm Hakim," the merchant offered, flicking the reins to urge the beast onward.
"A pleasure,"
The cart moved, its wheels cutting fresh tracks in the muddy road. The relentlessly percussive pitter-patter on the canvas cover was punctuated by the occasional boom of thunder—nature's own applause to this impromptu duet of man and storm.
“So, what brought you out this far? An emergency of some sort, or unlucky timing?”
"Just passing through."
The merchant's brow furrowed. "Passing through? To where, if I may ask?"
"Sumeru City,"
A shake of the head sent droplets flying from Hakim's hair. "Well, you’re lucky you caught me heading that direction myself."
The Wanderer inclined his head slightly. "Your kindness is appreciated."
"Think nothing of it." Hakim waved dismissively, though a spark of curiosity still burned. "You’re from Inazuma, aren’t you? Though I must say, you don’t sound like it. Your accent is...difficult to place."
For a moment, the Wanderer was silent. When the answer was spoken, his words seemed to come from a great distance. "I've traveled far."
Hakim waited, expectantly for the rest. But that answer never came.
His gaze darted to his enigmatic passenger, who sat unnaturally still despite the jostling of the uneven road
What a weird kid.
Hakim muttered, words half-lost in the rain "You're a quiet one, aren't you."
The Wanderer's eyes flickered towards him for the first time since he’d hopped onboard. "What would you have me say?"
A huff of disbelief left him. "Oh, I don't know. Where you're from? What you do? Why in the world you're out here in this storm?" He squinted through the mist obscuring the path ahead. "Most folks have the sense to seek shelter in weather like this."
“Oh.”
The single syllable hung in the air, insubstantial yet somehow suffocating. Stunned into silence, Hakim was baffled by the ignorant and seemingly unfinished response. He cast a sidelong glance for the rest of the sentence, but the Wanderer’s eyes were still glued forward, unbothered by the look he received.
Yet again, Hakim found himself with more questions than answers.
Kids these days…
They rode on like this for a while. Noting how the Wanderer's gaze seemed to take in everything and nothing at once.
"Have you been to the city before?" Hakim tried again, breaking the silence once more.
"First time." As expected the response was swift, clipped, like the snapping shut of a book one had barely opened.
"Is that so? You're in for a treat then! The markets, the architecture, the Akademiya... Can’t find anything like it anywhere else in Teyvat."
More silence.
Unease crept up Hakim’s spine like ivy on a brick wall. It was a feeling he couldn't quite name – not quite fear, not quite worry, but a gnawing mix of both that set his nerves on edge.
Who was this kid, really? Why take a shortcut to the city if he seemed content to take his time in this downpour?
Frustration grew at the piling questions. It was like trying to converse with a statue – no, even statues sometimes seemed more forthcoming than this inscrutable traveler. It was impossible to hold a conversation with him!
The cart groaned its protest as it conquered another muddy puddle, sending a spray of earthy water over its wooden sides. Hakim grunted, and his grip on the reins tightened, knuckles white with the effort.
For just a moment, Hakim's eyes were drawn to the rippling surface. In that fleeting instant, he could have sworn he saw a figure reflected there – one that mirrored his passenger's form, but clad in vibrant reds and deep blacks instead of the muted blues.
A chill ran through him, one that had nothing to do with the rain. Why did looking at this stranger inspire a sense of dread deep in his bones? It was illogical, Hakim knew, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had invited something dangerous into his cart.
Enough! he mentally chastised himself. You're letting your imagination run wild, old man. It's just a shy kid.
Hakim shook his head, and the image was gone.
What was he even thinking? Was age really catching up with him? He must be losing his mind…
Clearing his throat to banish the last wisps of unease, he tried once more to start some small talk. "So, kid, what brings you to these parts? You don't seem like a merchant, and you're a bit far from the usual pilgrim routes."
The Wanderer's eyes flickered to him. "It depends. I go where the wind takes me."
"The wind, eh?” Spoken like a traveler. “Must be a mighty strong breeze to blow you all the way out here." He paused, then added with a wink, "Or are you running from something? A jilted lover, perhaps?"
For a moment, a flicker of confusion passed over the Wanderer's face, quickly replaced by that same impassive expression. "No. I seek...knowledge."
If it's knowledge he sought, he was in the right place.
The Wanderer's brow furrowed slightly, as if he was grappling with a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. "Of myself," he murmured, almost too quietly for the merchant to hear.
Hakim opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. There was something in the Wanderer's tone – a vulnerability at odds with his composed demeanor – that gave the merchant pause.
Rain continued to pour, but the silence that settled between the two travelers was somehow louder than the storm.
He really is just a lost boy…
"Ah, now that's a journey that never truly ends, kiddo. You won’t be the first person nor the last to seek it.”
Sensing the boy’s discomfort, he shifted the conversation elsewhere. ”What's your trade, kid?”
The confusion on his face served as a question in and of itself.
Hakim scoffed. “Surely a growing man like you must eat, even while seeking enlightenment."
The Wanderer's fingers moved to trace the outline of a strange ornament hanging at his chest. It clinked softly, a metallic sound out of place in the organic forest.
"I...make things," he answered slowly, as if tasting the words. "Mechanical things."
"A tinker, eh?" Hakim's eyes lit up with interest. He leaned closer, cart creaking beneath him. "Now that's a useful trade. Say, my wife's got this old—"
A sudden flash of lightning interrupted, casting stark shadows across the Wanderer's face. For a moment, Hakim glimpsed something in those dark eyes – a flicker of confusion, of loss so profound it made his breath catch.
The Wanderer blinked, and the moment passed.
"You were saying?" he offered, his tone neutral but his fingers still worrying at the golden feather attached to the crafted ornament.
Trying to shake off the unease that had settled over him again, Hakim nodded. "Right, yes… You know, my wife's always complaining about this old music box of hers. Maybe you could take a look when we reach the city?"
A small smile touched the Wanderer's lips. "I could look at it."
Hakim grinned, pleased to have elicited even this small reaction.
"Well, kid, it’s a deal.”
***
The bazaar swirled around him - a treasure of sounds, scents, and colors just waiting to be discovered. Yet the Wanderer diligently arranged wares behind a stall. Each fruit found its place in a growing pyramid that seemed to defy gravity, a testament to his dedication to the task he had sought out.
"Higher, boy! Stack them higher!" The merchant's voice cut through. "We need to draw eyes!”
A slight nod was his response. Dark strands of hair fell across eyes that held no spark of self, only the determination to fulfill the purpose he had chosen. Another apple. Another careful placement. Rinse and repeat.
This was why he was here. This was what he had asked for.
A name was called out. The Wanderer's ears strained at the familiar sound.
She was here again.
The call went up from several stalls, vendors and merchants alike waving enthusiastically to catch her attention. It wasn't the eager call of shopkeepers to a potential customer, but the warm greeting extended to a dear friend.
As she approached each stall, Wanderer watched the same scene unfold time and time again. Merchants would press fruits, sweets, or trinkets into her hands, insisting they were gifts. The girl would protest, her hands raised in polite refusal. The vendor would insist more strongly, and she would decline once more, her smile never wavering.
This transaction of generosity and refusal, taarof as they called it, would continue, a custom unique to the locals here that the Wanderer found fascinating. He had learned much these past few days about the place and what kind of people lived here, all by observing this girl.
Kindness was currency, more valuable than Mora, and debts of gratitude were meant to be repaid many times over. Help freely given was expected to ripple outward, creating a web of mutual support and care. Everyone, it seemed, was part of one big family.
It was unlike anywhere else his feet had taken him. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to settle down after centuries of wandering. If it was here he might have a chance at finding his purpose… It didn’t seem as impossible anymore. To learn, and to understand.
But some lessons, it seemed, were harder to grasp than others. The easy camaraderie, the unspoken bonds of community— these were as foreign to him as the strange customs and vibrant colors of Sumeru itself.
Could he really belong among them when they had no idea what he truly was?
The apple in his hand felt suddenly heavy. His eyes drifted back to the Star of Sumeru as she navigated the bazaar with grace and genuine affection for those around her.
A realization settled over him like a cold mist – he was not part of this. He stood apart, an observer, a stranger to the warmth that seemed to flow so naturally between these people.
"Hey–! Have you been standing there this whole time?"
Apples rolled in every direction, disappearing under the feet of startled shoppers. The Wanderer blinked, momentarily stunned as his meticulous work scattered across the cobblestones. He looked down at the round red fruits still clutched in his hands, then at the now empty display.
A heavy, hopeless sigh left Hakim.
"Lad, I appreciate your help, but we can't afford mistakes like this. Those bruised apples will have to be sold at a discount now."
"I apologize, boss." The Wanderer quickly crouched down to pick up the fallen fruits. "My mind was elsewhere."
"Clearly," Hakim grunted. "Look, why don't you focus on restocking from the back? I'll handle the displays for now."
He felt Hakim’s eyes on him for a moment longer, then turned away with a small shrug. He could tell Hakim thought that he was odd, no doubt about it, but he was a hard worker. In the end, that's what mattered in a place like this.
“And no more daydreaming! Got it?” He heard Hakim shouting out in reminder.
By closing time, the day's mishaps had been mostly mitigated. As they packed away the remaining produce, Wanderer felt Hakim studying him with interest.
"You did better this afternoon," he offered. “Keep at it.”
The simple praise sent an unexpected thrill through him. He hadn't even had the chance to demonstrate his true skills, the things he truly excelled at, and yet... he was accepted. Valued, even.
“Thank you, boss.”
Link for the full story
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It's just a thought but I think that Nancy is important to the main villain of Stranger Things, or the most powerful creature of the Upside Down, or at least it wants to kill her.
That's cause in the first season she got stuck in the upside down, even if it was for a brief while, she did, and the Demogorgon almost took her.
In the second season, she was the one to finally hit the peak point by burning a part of Will's skin to make the Mind flayer escape him.
As for the third season, she was the one who linked up the connection between Billy and Driscoll and connecting it to all the previous events, which means she figured out the flayer's plan.
Plus people who are flayed don't remain conscious of themselves, so when Bruce attacked her he said "I'm here for you Nancy Drew", but he was already flayed, so it wasn't Bruce, it was the mind flayer. Why would the mind flayer want her?
And in the latest season, she was pulled into Vecna's trance where he showed her all of his horrific plans, and she definitely has submerged trauma and guilt into her, maybe not as deep as Fred or Max, but she does, otherwise Vecna couldn't even have semi cursed her, plus she said she heard the clock while in the trance.
On top of that, she's got the journalistic instinct to always figure out the truth or the plan making it a step harder for the monsters, so it's possible.
I might be digging up too deep into this I know, cause she's one of my favourite characters and I can't help it but keep analyzing but do share your thoughts on this.
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“People can have lovers. They can have friends. They can be together. But when you think about it, you'll see that originally, we're alone.”
(Nana Osaki ~ Nana)
And indeed, we are. Nana could see it very clearly after her whole life experience; being accustomed to loneliness since childhood after her mother abandoned her, her grandmother wasn't able to love her and she lost the person she loved the most, realising the impossibility of ideal love. More than an anime character, Nana is actually a voice that speaks the language of lonely hearts. It is true that we are all born alone and we will die alone, I think we all realise it, but the perspective matters a lot. Nana's perspectives about life are quite bewildering while she is constantly trying to choose between soul and ego. Her desires aren't in balance with her pride and her heart seems to be always at war with her mind.
Nana Osaki is presented as a unique, talented woman, whose dreams are concerned with her career in the music industry and being on her own, while she is trying to forget a painful past, which, paradoxically is filled with memories of infinite bliss and love. But, as Dante Alighieri would say, "There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery". I would describe Nana as a passionate woman, whose feelings are as deep as a lake. You shouldn't laugh at its depth only because it is not an ocean; it may be your biggest mistake to judge her this way. You see... although on the outside the lake is calm and filled with exquisite lotus flowers, its depths may reach the bottom of hell. She's so intense that she could die of too much love, sorrow, regret... you'll never know, because she doesn't pour her feelings everywhere on the outside; she keeps them inside her heart.
Her strength is admirable. Yasu described her as a strong and independent woman, but the truth is that deep inside, she craves people more than she will ever be able to admit. When compared to Nana Komatsu, people would say that she is the defenseless one, but in fact, their hearts are very similar to each other, just like two drops of water are. Nana Komatsu seems to be more dependent because she reveals her most profound feelings, but Nana Osaki is just as vulnerable as her. The "secret ingredient" that she has is called pride. Only because she hides her feelings very well, that doesn't make them less valid; on the contrary, it only proves that they are real and their intensity, hidden as they are, grows even heavier.
The first time she saw Ren, Nana said that she felt "jealousy and lust", but not love. Love is often described as an act of giving. When someone loves, he has to give himself to that person; his time, attention, feelings, sometimes, even soul. Nana didn't feel love because she didn't want to give herself; on the contrary, she wished to possess. Only after that, she could allow herself to give. The relationship between Ren and Nana is captured in her tattoo, a red lotus flower, also known as ren-flower. To me, the tattoo has many meanings and as I became more interested, I actually found out that it symbolises many things, according to their relationship. It is said that in spite of the dirty background in which it is found, the lotus blooms brightly. I immediately associated this with Nana and Ren's past, both of them being abandoned as children and having a not so pleasant childhood from which they grew beautiful, talented and special. In Ancient Egypt culture, the lotus is found in the Book of the Dead, as a symbol of rebirth. Each night the lotus flower closed its petals and fell asleep in the waters of chaos to be reborn in the next day, even brighter than before. I found a connection between this and the rebirth of Nana and Ren's relationship, who, in spite of being separated, kept their feelings as strong as ever in the night of segregation, to be reunited in a love which might be even stronger than before.
The red lotus represents the heart of nature and as a symbol, it stands for the qualities of the heart. The color red is said to be controversial. Some people would associate it with energy, heat; others with evil and sensuality (just like Nana's grandmother who didn't allow her to wear pink and red clothes because she didn't want her to seduce men, as her mother did). It is said that red is the symbol of heat, sexuality and passion and it is a color often used to "stimulate lovers' passion". The passion, which may be positive or negative, is found in both forms in Nana's character. The positive passion concerns her singing career, creativity and friendliness, qualities often admired by Nana Komatsu. But the negative passion is seen on the outside only as a reaction to her real, hidden feelings. Envy, aggression, jealousy are only forms of a deep reaction which lies under this destructive mask, a mask which buries the emotions that are not satisfied, like an unrequited love or an unfulfilled desire to possess the people she loves.
(I think Lana Del Rey’s song, Guns and Roses matches best with Nana and Ren’s relationship, but instead of Guns N Roses, it would be Sex Pistols)
“A moon that's not exactly full. When I'm with Ren I feel like that. Even though we love each other deeply... no one can really make me feel complete.”
(Nana Osaki ~ Nana)
In spite of Nana's virtue of loving profoundly, the loneliness deep inside her heart could not be extinguished. Not by Nana Komatsu, not by Ren and sometimes, not even by herself. Shining in the darkness as the waning moon she describes, she is not actually herself, letting people see only one part of her, while her real enigmatic self is mercurial and contradictory.
“The secrets inside her mind are like flowers in a garden at nighttime, filling the darkness with perfume.”
(Fumiko Enchi ~ Masks)
