#forge and dove theory

[fellsilver]

The fact that the silver hair of the Seven has prevailed in their children in every known case just makes me believe even harder that Myr.kul had some hand in Maura's conception

[possibly-god]

Christoph Osterberg – the Shrink

(1975 – 25/2000 – 50)

Escaping the chaos of post-WW2 Germany, Dr. Ludwig Hesse emigrated to America, briefly living and practicing medicine in a German immigrant community, and even more briefly being married to fellow migrant Ursula Osterberg.

Their marriage was one of momentary convenience and desperation – when Ludwig skipped town after the Skeleton Incident, Ursula was almost happy to see him go, until she discovered she was stuck with a rather permanent reminder.

Practically from birth, Christoph was a stubborn, sarcastic little shit who drove his mother up the wall with his endless questions, bottomless well of back-talk, and insistence that her “little girl” was Very Much Not That.

It certainly doesn’t help matters that he’s transitioning into mini-Medic – picture Herbert West from Re-Animator (with a sprinkle of Dr. House’s personality) and you’re most of the way there.

While hiding in the basement one day, 11-year-old Christoph found a bunch of old medical textbooks and pulled a volume on the brain, beginning a fascination with the mind’s many mysteries and points of failure.

Christoph considers college the point at which he “traded up” in life – Zephaniah Mann University is where he cut contact with his mother and stepfamily, and where he met his best friend, Hedy.

Christoph and Hedy rapidly partnered up – she helps him formulate new drugs, he helps her assess her designs’ safety, and in ’73 they got married for tax benefits (and other reasons, none of them romantic).

Christoph had long since forged every single piece of legal identification to correct his gender, so their courthouse wedding went off without a hitch – hardly the most hazardous thing he’s done, considering he also brews his own hormones and performed his own top surgery.

He submitted a paper on the self-surgery experience to several medical journals but none of them believed him.

Despite his many wild and widely-known theories on abnormal and para-psychology, Christoph received his Bachelor’s with flying colors and has continued on to ZMU’s medical program with a focus on psychiatry and neurology.

His personal biochemistry studies sparked an interest in the potential medical uses of Australium, leading him to drunkenly dare Hedy to get him enough for proper experimentation – a dare that would lead her to revolutionize nuclear physics and get them and several others kidnapped.

Medic was initially quite skeptical of Christoph, and vice-versa, but once their many mutual interests and disdain for their ex-family were established, they quickly bonded as Queer Men of Mad Medicine.

Medic’s doves love him. He tolerates them (he loves them).

Between new dad Medic, new father-in-law Engineer, new basically-stepdad Heavy, new basically-aunt Zhanna, and new basically-stepbrother Patrick, Christoph somehow manages to take the sudden influx of relatives in stride.

His favorite pastime on base is psychoanalyzing the mercs – oh, the case studies he could write. He also regularly volunteers to babysit the twins (more on them later) to run twin-telepathy studies on them.

After the OHM incident wraps up, Christoph completes med school and residency to become a certified psychiatrist – though finding places that will hire him is a challenge. (At one point some MKUltra holdouts attempt to recruit him, but he turns them down – their methods are far too primitive).

Medic, Heavy, and the rest gladly fill his stepfamily’s spot in Christoph’s life – he’ll rarely admit it, but he didn’t realize how much he missed that kind of support.

On his 50th birthday, Hedy (still his wife of 27 years) invites him to join her at Team Fortress International, where he can practice freely and they can work together again. He accepts, signing on as the Shrink.

Next up – a Brooklynite brawler and angsty adolescent…

TF2K Master Post

[liperpiper]

Some Liper Trivia

We’re regaining lots of fans for this ship, so I just wanna share two of the most popular theories among Liper shippers in case some of you haven’t heard them!

1. The Wilderness Theory

(This is probably the most popular Liper theory, even among non-romantic Liper shippers)

Theory: The memories Hera faked between Jason and Piper actually happened between Leo and Piper.

In TLH, Couch Hedge and Dylan subtly implied that Leo and Piper were friends at the wilderness school even before Hera stepped in and inserted Jason into their friendship, right? The theory here is that the memories Hera faked between Piper and Jason actually happened between Leo and Piper instead; they were the ones who sat on the roof under the stars and kissed.

Other fans’ on this thoery: Cedarleaf, your-demigod-diaries, gh0ulpunk, ruby-sliper-of-iowa, possiibility

2. The Parallel/Forge and Dove Theory

Theory: That Beckendorf and Silena are a parallel to Leo and Piper.

(First of all, Liper and Charlena are both Hephaestus/Aphrodite pairings)

A few ways Leo is contrasted with Beckendorf:

He was given Beckendorf’s bunk to sleep in

He tames Festus, something the Hephaestus kids said only Beckendorf had previously been able to do.

Beckendorf sacrificed himself in a fiery explosion to help end a war. And what did Leo do? The exact same thing.

A few ways Piper is contrasted with Silena:

(first of all, some Aphrodite kids compared Piper to Silena a lot in TLH, funnily enough)

Piper became Head Counselor like Silena, and was compared to Silena because she didn’t believe in the Aphrodite cabin’s breaking hearts tradition

In TLH, Piper was manipulated into betraying her friends, just as Silena was (though Piper fessed up to Leo and Jason before it came down to that)

Beckendorf and Silena were lovers, and it still bothers me that these correlations were set up and never addressed?? It was weirdly obvious that Leo and Piper were being compared and contrasted with their cabins’ previous Head Counselors.

Other fans on this theory: r-ckbell, martymcparker, pjato-shipping-headcanons

[coffee-with-bucky]

Lovers

Summary: Unnamed and undefined, you don’t know where your relationship with Viktor stands. But, when you mention that Viktor’s moles are signs of where his past lover would kiss him in his past life, you two slowly push your relationship across that threshold and put an official description.

Pairing: Viktor x Reader

Words: 1.6K

Genre: Fluff

GIF Credit: @solidago-sempervirens​

A/N: I’m so down bad for Viktor lmao. Anyways, I had fun writing this! (Reader is kept gender-neutral)

To others, the glances were mere looks – nothing more.

But deep down in your heart, you knew what they meant. And Viktor knew just as well.

There was no label as to what this was.

Friendship? It was much more.

A romantic relationship? No official stamp of approval. It was in limbo.

But what you did know was the connection that you and Viktor forged was unspoken. Fleeting glimpses with glints in his golden eyes, which practically glowed when the sun’s rays hit them.

It was when no one was looking – the lightest of touches upon the tips of fingertips brushing across hands and arms. Sometimes your hands would find themselves trailing up to his shoulder, a gentle squeeze that you swore made all the tension in Viktor’s body dissolve. 

You treaded on a fine line – your hands itched to drift higher, wanting to linger on the sides of his neck, maybe even place a kiss where his pulse point laid.

And that was the bigger issue – you wanted to kiss him. Kiss every inch of skin he would allow. Those sharp cheekbones, his forehead where those baby hairs rested, those lips that spoke of scientific theories and ideas of hextech inventions, but more notably, the two moles that speckled his skin.

One under his right eye, the other above the corner of his left lip. You found yourself gazing at those moles almost as much as admiring his stunning eyes. A desire to kiss those moles consumed your thoughts to the point where you would get so distracted –

“…Hello? Eh, are you still with me, duck?”

Brought back to reality, the handle of Viktor’s cane waved in front of your face. Viktor smirked as you blinked, heat rising to your cheeks. You were supposed to be listening to Viktor’s explanation of the new hexgates that were in development since you asked him.

Well, half of that was true. You did want to learn about the hexgates but, it was also an excuse to spend more time with him and temporarily ditch your duties as Heimerdinger’s assistant. It was a slow day and you had justified to yourself that you could slack off for one day.

You narrowed your eyes at him, sitting up straighter in your stool, “Will you stop calling me that?”

Viktor laughed, an almost baritone quality blended into his tone, “Never.”

“Why do you call me that again? You could have given me a cuter nickname instead, you know, like dove.” You huffed.

Viktor leaned forward from his stool with a gleam in his eye, “It’s only because you pout like a duck.” As your brows furrowed, you intuitively pouted your lips, “See!”

Crossing your arms, you stuck your tongue out at him.

Viktor playfully rolled his eyes, “You never cease to amuse me, my duck.”

A bashful grin laced your face. As much as you pretended to be annoyed at Viktor’s nickname for you, it secretly made your heart race.

“Besides, a duck is cute. Therefore, a cute nickname… For a cute individual.”

You swore your heart was going to combust inside your chest.

“Now about your attention span…” Viktor hummed. Holding the middle of his cane, he softly tapped the handle of his cane to your forehead.

A gentle bonk.

“It appears something is causing a hindrance to your concentration.”

You rubbed the back of your neck with a sheepish smile, “Yeah, something like that.” Your eyes flickered to the mole above the corner of his lip.

“What’s distracting you?” Viktor tilted his head as he nudged your knee with his.

You sighed, “I was looking at the moles on your face.”

Viktor’s eyebrows raised, “Oh? And what about them?”

You smiled, remembering the myth your friends and family relayed to you many, many years ago.

“They reminded me about a myth I learned about growing up. I was told that the moles and birthmarks on your skin were indicators to where your lover from your past life kissed you the most.” You nudged his knee back.

A light flush sprinkled his cheeks. Viktor hummed, leaning his cane against the workbench, “And… You believe it?”

“Mhm, yes. But also no.”

“How so?”

You tapped your chin, “I find the sentiment behind it adorable, sure. But I think it makes the reason to kiss someone all the sweeter for the next lover in the next life.”

Viktor nodded. Pulling his chair closer to yours, his knees now brushed against yours.

“So, you’re telling me, a lover from my past life liked to kiss me… Here and here.” Viktor pointed to the moles on his face.

You smiled and nodded back, softened eyes flickering to his moles, “I think your lover knew what they were doing.” Viktor raised a brow. “I theorize that the lover from your past life kissed you here,” You softly tapped the mole under his eye with a finger, “And here,” You tapped the one above the corner of his mouth, “Because they were the most optimal spots for kisses.”

“That’s certainly a… bold theory.” Viktor smugly smiled, eyes darting to your lips briefly. “Maybe… You could test your theory?”

Your eyes widened, a quiet gasp catching in your throat at the mere image of you kissing his cheek. 

“I-I mean yes, I could, theoretically.” You bit your lip before shrugging. “But... I’m going to need a participant.”

Resting his elbows on his knees, Viktor leaned forward so much that his face was just inches away from yours.

“You have a prime contender right here.”

You cleared your throat, “Well, as the researcher, I’m going to need to ask the participant for verbal consent, which coincides with ethics, confidentiality and confirms that they want to participate in the study–“

“Yes. I consent. Now will you stop stalling, my duck?” Viktor chuckled.

You gave a single nod, biting the insides of your cheeks in an attempt to stop smiling. Taking in a gentle breath, your fingers floated under his chin, hooking it between your index finger and thumb. Leaning forward, you planted a soft kiss under his eye, letting your lips linger for a few moments. You heard Viktor’s breath hitch as your thumb grazed against his skin.

Gravitating towards his other mole, you kissed it with just as soft of a touch. Your lips were dangerously close to the corner of his lip – if you had moved just a hair-width below, you would have met a sliver of his mouth.

Pulling back, you chuckled at the sight before you. Viktor’s cheeks were drenched in pink, the tips of his ears turning almost as red as his tie.

“So as the main participant in this study,” You smiled as you stood up and sat at the edge of the lab table, “Is my theory correct?”

Slightly loosening the tie around his neck, Viktor chuckled with a widened grin, “W-Well, you’re going to have to note that I will certainly have a bias in the results,” Viktor smirked up at you, “But you’re correct. My lover from my past life knew where I liked to be kissed… except I think they forgot a crucial one.”

Before you could deliver a question, you realized that Viktor’s golden eyes burned with something behind them as he stood up. You didn’t have time to react as Viktor placed his arms beside you, caging you in as he leaned against the table. Cupping your cheek, he brought his lips to yours.

You sat there frozen, your mind short-circuiting at the feeling of Viktor’s lips on yours. Fluttering your eyes closed, you pressed back tenderly, slowly, and gently, moving your lips against his. Your lips perked into a tiny grin against Viktor’s mouth, reaching up to gently hold Viktor’s wrist as he caressed against your cheek.  

When you two pulled away, Viktor stammered, “I-I apologize if I overstepped–“

You cut him off by grabbing his tie, lightly tugging him forward so you could kiss him again.

“Oh.” Viktor chuckled, stumbling slightly as you kissed him with more passion, one hand still holding his tie while the other snaked into his hair. Viktor stood in between your legs, his hands landing on your waist while a quiet sigh emitted from the back of his throat. The hand in his hair soon traveled down, you gently held the side of his neck as your thumb caressed the side of his jaw.

A mischievous thought passed your mind. You lightly gave a playful bite to his lower lip, making Viktor’s breath hitch. His hands at your waist tightened, his lips pressing firmer and more feverish than ever, making you sigh into the kiss.

Pulling away, Viktor pressed his forehead to yours, deep breaths mingling as smiles reached both of your faces. Viktor let out a giddy laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight as he brushed the tip of your nose with his.

“So…” Viktor sighed, languidly rubbing circles with his thumbs at your waist, “I forgot to ask, do you think my moles are optimal placements for kisses?”

With a big smile, you cupped his cheeks and kissed his moles again.

“Does that answer your question?” You laughed, running your thumbs across his cheekbones.

“Yes, it quite does,” Viktor closed his eyes briefly, leaning into your touch, “One last question.”

Sliding your hands down, you draped your arms over his shoulders, “Shoot.”

“You also said that my moles give a reason for the… next lover to continue those kisses,” Viktor avoided your eyes as the flush on his cheeks deepened, “So I ask, will you be that person? My… lover?”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, diffusing across your body, and traveled up to your face. Your face felt like it was set ablaze, particularly in your cheeks.

For the longest time there was no label. And now with his kisses and touch burned into your mind, imagining your relationship to be officially defined–

Lovers.

“I would love to.”

Viktor grinned, capturing your lips once more.

[dragonflylady77]

Neil gets what’s coming to him / dies a gruesome death fics - (a non-exhaustive list)

*disclaimer: I have read some of them, but not all of them so don't come at me. If you want me to add any to this list, send me an ask or a DM

Updated 4 October 2023 to say there is an event catering to this very special trope so go give @fallofneilhargrove a follow and read to your heart's content!! Here is the link for that collection on Ao3.

In no particular order:

ain't no rest for the wicked by desperat

Burying Monsters by Sir_Howdy

you can't cheat death when you're digging your own grave by @grabmyboner

cut the shit (handle it) by @holl0w-city

Seven Foot Wave, Six Feet Under (steddilly) by @writer-in-theory

No More Monster by @destroya2005

Forget About What Happened Here by @half-oz-eddie

The following by @bentnotbroken1fanfiction

Steve Goes To Jail AU

Max can't take it anymore

When Push Comes To Shove

The following by @lucdarling

stings like she means it (fear street crossover feat dead!neil)

kinktober 2020, chapter 19, poison (crime fam au)

Rumor Has It

Serious (as a heart attack)

Forged in Blood

the following fics by @dastardlydandelion

praefoco

tot acerba funera or, the ABCs of Neil Hargrove's death

edited + expanded supplicium (prompted by @keziahrain)

periculum in mora

dolor sicut ratio (the axe fics before axecution)

blasphemia(caos crossover, feat smooches with lilith)

axecution series

micis

nex

the gay garbage disposal au

famelicus(dark crack torture fic, dead dove: do not eat, pls read the notes + tags, billy’s mother/susan pwp)

repudium (solo susan pwp feat dead!neil, literal murder porn/gorn, also pls read the tags + notes)

[godofsexdrugsandrocknroll]

Jaune’s Father: “If nothing else, be kind. Kindness costs you nothing, sport”

Weiss: *From underneath many blankets, peeking from behind a comforter* I’m truly sorry, Arc. I had meant to assist you in your dust theory paper, but I’m not feeling terribly well.

Jaune: *Scratches head* Hey, no worries Sn- Weiss. Do you need anything? A hot compress?

Weiss: *Is glad she has a comforter for a shield as she blushes in embarrassment* How! *Coughs, in a normal tone of voice* Excuse me. How did you...

Jaune: I have seven sisters, Weiss.

Weiss: *Nods meekly, still embarrassed* A hot compress would be lovely. I feel awful.

----------------- 

Yang: *Blinks* Is that vomit boy?

Blake: *Reading* You could try calling him by his name.

Yang: You could try acknowledging his existence. *Blake glares, feeling a little guilty*

Cardin: *Walking by* He needed a warm compress.

Yang: What for?

Cardin: *Feeling kinda humbled, a bit envious* Nothin’ serious.

----------------- 

Jaune: *Taking box* Thanks Coco, you’re a lot less scary than Poppy said you were.

Coco: *Lowers her shades* Oh, did snookums slander my good name?

Jaune: *Feels his neck get hot* U-uh, no! Just that you were kinda protective of, um, *lifts box, almost drops it and gives Coco a heart attack* this. Sorry. But really, thanks, it’s really nice of you.

Coco: *Clutching her heart, waves him off* Just tell that leggy blonde she owes me some serious cuddling.

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

Professor Peach: It’s not often I get students actually interested in my hobby.

Jaune: Well, we are all teenagers.

Professor Peach: *Laughs* True enough. Hmm. *Side eyes Jaune* Well, the same can’t be said for you, young man. *Sees Jaune about to protest* I think what you meant to say is you’re all aspiring Huntsmen and Huntresses. Sometimes the future is so bright and shiny to your classmates that they forgot the everyday. It’s quite nice to see that isn’t the case with each of you.

Jaune: *Opens and closes his mouth, shuffles awkwardly*

Professor Peach: *Smiles softly* You have nothing to be embarrassed of, Jaune Arc. Here *carefully hands his request over* exactly as you requested. Have a wonderful day, child.

Jaune: *Nods quickly and walks off*

Professor Peach: And days like today, Rosalie, are why you do this job. *Happily hums as she gets back to work*

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

Jaune: Okay, look, I’m just asking which--

Beryl: *Sighs dramatically* And I’m telling you, kitten *Ignores Jaune’s protests* that they’re all mondo good.

Julie: Like, Bea-Bea’s right. That one *pointing with a fuchsia nail* is just the sweetest thing in the world, will just have you feeling warm and happy inside after.

Cissy: Plus it has just...mmm. Ouch! *Is swatted by Beryl, playfully* You bitch. Anyways, that one right there is just cute and total *squeals* overload. Can’t go wrong with it, it’s a classic.

Beryl: Then that one is probably the safest bet, because who doesn’t love a puppy?

Jaune: A puppy? *Beryl nods* Well, uh, thanks. And I promise I’ll get them back to you by tomorrow. I’ll also see if Ren’s interested, but, uh, maybe keep your semblances ready?

Cissy: *Raises hand* Uh, I haven’t activated mine yet. I’ve just got Nemesis.

Beryl: *Slings arm around Cissy’s shoulders* Don’t worry, kitten, between My House and Julie’s Spit-Spot, plus our weapons we can handle Valkyrie if she gets in a mood.

Jaune: *Deadpan* She was benchpressing one of the academy’s washing machines the other day. No aura.

Julie: We’re good at running away.

Beryl: *Scandalized* Julie!

Julie: Cute boy or not, no way am I getting my face rocked by that monster.

Jaune: *Shrugs, collecting stuff to leave* Um, I don’t know if it’ll work but maybe fill your bags with syrup. Might work as a distraction if Mt. Nora erupts.

Beryl: *Flatly* Really?

Cissy: *Flips platinum blonde hair* I saw her drinking it right out of the bottle once before Lie stopped her.

Beryl: *Sees Jaune’s gone, giggles* Somehow I think kitten got the better end of the deal. *Speculative* Shame he’s super taken.

Julie: Uh, what? Isn’t-

Beryl: Oh you sweet summer child, never change *Ruffles Julie’s hair*

Julie: Ack! Stop!

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

Jaune: Thanks headmaster! This is all really great!

Ozpin: *Working at desk* No need to thank me, mister Arc.

Jaune: Uh, yeah I do. You didn’t have to allow me to do this, but you did and it’s really neat of you.

Ozpin: *Smiles* Well then, you’re welcome. Enjoy.

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

Ruby: You definitely came to the right girl!

Jaune: *Looking at his haul* I’ll say. You’re sure you’re okay with helping? I kinda saw the looks you were giving Crescent Rose back at the forge. *Teasingly* You sure you don’t want some alone time with your baby?

Ruby: *Blushes the color of her cloak* S-shut up! She’ll be fine without me, I was just thinking of trying out some custom dust ammo is all! *Very seriously* I don’t have a problem! You have a problem!

Jaune: Riii-iiight. *Ruby puffs cheeks out, teasingly* Like you don’t have a cookie problem?

Ruby: *Points dramatically, very loud* THAT... *Slumps and sighs* please don’t tell Yang I have a nightly plate of chocolate chip.

Jaune: *Laughs* No problem, Ruby. You know me. How can I turn my back on the girl who actually talked her team into not killing me when I told them I cheated my way into Beacon?

Ruby: Yeah, yeah. So get those babies ready, vomit boy and watch Ruby - I am totally a pro at this and all things wonderful - Rose do her magic!

Jaune: Will do, crater face!

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

Jaune: *Grins* Thanks Cardin. You know, when you’re not being all racist and pushing people around you’re actually a really nice guy.

Sky: Ooooh. What a compliment. The kindness just gently caresses your face like a butterfly’s wings, huh Cardin?

Cardin: *Scowling* Shut it, Sky. I’m still trying so that’s totally fair.

Jaune: I, uh, didn’t mean it--

Cardin: *Rubbing neck* I know dude, no worries. Got a date with my girl coming up and it’s our anniversary, so it’s just a little extra. And don’t worry about paying me back, this is like the very least I can do for you after everything. *Jaune’s about to protest* Nope. I know we’re cool, but I was a huge douchebag. I mean it.

Jaune: Well thanks. It means a lot. *Leaves*

Russel: *Reading motorcycle magazine* You don’t have a girl, bro.

Cardin: *Frowns* I know.

Dove: You know you don’t have to help him out like that. You’re only hurting yourself.

Cardin: *Wipes face with hands, flops on his bed and stares at the ceiling* Yeah, well, too bad for Cardin fucking Winchester. If Jaune’s happy, I’m happy. I wasn’t joking when I said he deserves better than me. *Rolls on side to stare at wall.*

RDL: *All staring at their leader, all of them sad*

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

Jaune: *Cheerfully* I’m back!

Weiss: *Very grumpily glaring at Jaune from beneath her covers, only her eyes visible, her voice is acidic* It’s quite fine, Arc. It’s only been two and a half hours. I know you have better things to do, so don’t bother acting like you were looking forward to coming back to deal with me.

Jaune: *Winces* Yeah, sorry. I was getting the hot towel when I kinda realized that you’ve probably been dealing with this all by yourself. *Weiss growls* It’s just, I remembered how you said you and your Dad don’t really talk and your little brother’s a, a snot, I think you called him? *Weiss feels embarrassed, but says nothing while staring at Jaune* Just hold on.

*Weiss does but when he comes back in the room her eyes go wide in shock*

Jaune: I-I just have a lot of sisters. Four older, three younger and they all have different things they like when they’re on their period. Saphron’s just happy if I’ll bring her things and Coral just wants me to leave her alone. Peri always wants cuddles and movies and *blushes as he realizes how much he’s talking* I just thought instead of whatever you usually do, you might want something more? Just to try something new?

Weiss: *Stares at several hot compresses, an expensive looking box of chocolates, a small boquet of blue Glory of the Snow’s, a stack of films, several unhealthy but delicious looking snacks and a stuffed polar bear with a top hat*

Weiss: *Wide eyed, completely taken aback* W-what?

Jaune: I-I-I don’t mean to assume anything, but I’m guessing you didn’t really have anyone who tried to make your period any better?

Weiss: I have a butler, Klein, who would always check in on me but never, well I never thought to ask for more. *Very softly as she stares at the rolling entourage of goodies* It never occurred.

Jaune: Okay, well, um, how about I bring this in?

*Jaune does, Weiss watching as he sets the flowers near her bed with wide eyes and gratefully accepting the compress, bringing it under her comforter and sighing in relief*

Jaune: We’ll have to set it up on your scroll, but I did bring movies to just so you have something fun to do today. There’s a family film with an apparently super cute actor, another that’s a cute animated movie that’s a staple of everybody’s childhood except mine apparently, *Weiss snorts, watching the covers* and one about a puppy finding his way home--

Weiss: *Eyes glued to the case, speaks immediately* That one.

Jaune: You sure, I checked the fam--

Weiss: *Eyes not leaving the box* I’m certain. *Flushes* Please?

Jaune: Sure. Just let me set this up.

*Jaune also hands over the chocolates, which Weiss stares at curiously and much to her delight, brings over the bags of snacks and she clutches the bag of cheesy poofs to her, very much wanting to try them for the first time*

Jaune: Okay, that should do it. So you’ve got your Cheez-E-Poofs, I grabbed a few sodas, juices that I thought you might like *quickly* but I also got water! Um, here. *Hands Weiss the stuffed animal, which she stares at and brings close to her face, loving how cute it is and how soft it is* Oh, Ruby helped me dip some strawberry’s in chocolate if you wanna try them later. There’s normal ones too.

Weiss: *Touched and doesn’t know what to say* I-it’s all so...umm, thank you. You really didn’t have to.

Jaune: *Scratches the back of his head, looks away* No problem, Weiss. I’m used to stuff like this, so...I’ll go. *Looking very embarassed* You’ve probably had enough of me talking you to death, so I’m just gonna go across the hall--

Weiss: *From behind her bear* Stay. *Jaune stares at her, blinking in surprise* You were going to offer, but you...back home the most I ever got were the occasional visits from Klein. But having someone to be there sounds very nice and I’d like if you would. Very much. I certainly won’t eat all of this anyways, so...please?

Jaune: *Nodding rapidly* Sure. Right. Yeah, I just didn’t wanna assume or impose or *watches Weiss’ eyes light up at the cheesy snack she just tried* I’ll sit.

*Jaune sits next to Weiss’ bed and they watch the film, eat snacks and after the movie, Weiss tries the strawberries as the second film starts. When she wakes up after falling asleep, she discovers the mess she’d made of the comforter is cleaned, Jaune had gathered up her snacks and placed them in a box. Her flowers now have a vase and the bear she had placed on his shoulder is on her pillow*

Weiss: *Smiles and hugs bear tightly*

~~A week later~~

Weiss: *Exasperated* Where is he?

Yang: *Balancing a pencil on her nose on her bed, ignoring her homework* Who?

Weiss: *Notices Berry B. Cold on Yang’s stomach and shoots forward like a bullet, snatching him and hugging him to her abdomen* You know who you bum, Jaune!

Yang: *Grinning like the cat who ate the canary* Oh-ho, finally acknowledging him by his first name after all this time, Weiss Cream?

Weiss: *Blushing* Quiet you.

Ruby: Leave her alone, Yang. But, uh, I don’t really know where he is.

Weiss: Nonsense. I may have missed the chance to help him with his paper but at the very least I can at least explain some of the theory to him, give him better than what Beacon’s textbooks offer.

Yang: Oh yeah, sure, sounds fun.

Weiss: *Bristling* E-even if it’s a boring subject, it is useful. *Hugs bear tighter* And he needs all the help he can get and--

Blake: *Walking in* If you’re talking about Jaune, he’s way too busy Weiss.

Weiss: I beg your pardon?

Yang: Yeah, you didn’t know?

Weiss: *Irritated* No Yang, it’s why I asked you in the first place.

Yang: *Flatly* Oh. I thought you were joking. No, I mean it, don’t look at me like that! Seriously, vomit boy’s been busy the last couple days.

Weiss: *Confused* But why?

Yang: *Staring* Seriously? I mean, he got that whole thing together for you.

Weiss: M-me!? Is that...but he said he was used to it! I-I knew he was talking about his sisters, but he said Ruby helped! H-he...

Ruby: Yup, I did, but I didn’t know Jaune was making them so you could have a nice, comfy that-time-of-the-month. I thought he just wanted a strawberry snack! That he’d finally been enlightened. *Sighs*

Yang: And that whole spread wasn’t just free, he went around and traded a lot of favors to get it together.

Weiss: *Gaping* H-he...what? He traded favors, just... *Uncertain, squeezing her bear while looking distressed* You didn’t know? He hasn’t done that with any of you?

Ruby: Nope!

Blake: Gods no.

Yang: Dad’s sweet like that for me when it’s bad-bad, but if Jaune offered I’d definitely turn him down. *Gives Weiss a look*

Ruby: Yeah, and all I need is my Non-Descript Winter Holiday lights and my guns ‘n ammo mags plus my scroll and I’m happy. *Shrugs* I get really crabby so I prefer being alone.

RWY: *Staring at Blake*

Blake: My ex did it for me once. Never again.

Weiss: S-so he did all that, just for me? Because I was miserable?

Yang: *Sighs, flops back on her bed* I don’t know why you’re so surprised. Ask his team. Jaune’s actually a pretty nice guy. He aimed Neptune in your direction back at the dance even though anybody with eyes knew he was kinda bummed the whole night. After you started talking with him after and started sharing, I think he just wanted you to have, y’know, some normal stuff that we all enjoy because our Dad’s aren’t asshats.

Ruby: Yang!

Blake: *Sees Weiss looking at her, looking upset* He’s been Coco’s personal shopper for the last week, he’s been dodging Nora since Ren agreed to a date with each of those girls from Team SNLT because she is pissed, he’s been doing odd jobs for Ozpin all week, he’s been doing a lot of work outside for Peach and I think he’s also been in the laundry rooms a lot. That stuff wasn’t just free. Plus he’s had to do all his usual leader stuff and his homework.

Weiss: *Gapes, hugs her bear and her eyes drift to her box of treats and she purses her lips* B-but...that’s so much, just so I...

Yang: Um, he likes you Weiss. Even if he stepped aside for Neptune, he’s not gonna just poof whatever he feels for you away just because he doesn’t have a chance. Then he sees you feeling like shit, knows just how bad it is because of all his sisters and gets it in his head that you deserve the princess treatment. *Stretches* He offered for Pyrrha once but she just went really red, yelled ‘NO!’ and apparently pushed him through a wall.

Weiss: *Sits on bed with her knees pulled up, hugging her bear while hiding a wobbling lip as she realizes and RBY just sighs*

~~Four days later~~

Yang: *Grins* Called it.

Blake: Yes, because it was such a mystery that this was gonna happen after Weiss had it spelled out for her that Jaune still has it bad for her even if he was trying to get over her. I’ll admit I still don’t understand the way Weiss thinks or why Jaune would put himself through all of that just because Weiss was having a bad period when it was clear at the time she wasn’t even thinking of him that way, but c’mon Yang.

Yang: *Hand out*

Blake: *Rolls her eyes, puts Lien in her hand* Child.

*Meanwhile Weiss stands on her tiptoes, arms around Jaune’s neck and enjoys kissing her boyfriend*

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

Two things: One, I headcanon Cardin as gay and occasionally having a thing for Jaune if it isn’t entirely obvious. Two, I don’t want my Tumblr to be nothing but crack/lewd. I’d also like some occasional romance/wholesome content. This isn’t the best, but hopefully it’s not quite as bad as I think it is towards the end.

[6azia]

𝟶𝟷|𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝

𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴 Part 2 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ᴅᴇ

Keigo is four when there's a new baby in the house.

In theory, he knows that the growth that was happening in his mother's stomach was supposed to become a baby one day, but to actually see you, swaddled in a blanket and sleeping peacefully in the old crib, felt completely surreal. To see you, someone who wasn't here yesterday, now a living and breathing human, was something he had a hard time grasping.

His mother frequently finds him hovering over your sleeping form, watching you with an intense stare. He stays close to you at all times, though he's not really sure why. Something about you, so completely defenseless and fragile, sets off something in his little brain that he could only understand as an innate need to protect you.

He watches his mother breastfeed you, poking your cheek occasionally to make sure you were still drinking to get as many nutrients as possible. When his mother puts you to sleep, he has a hand on your chest, ensuring the rise and fall to let him know you're still breathing. Sometimes his mother lets you cry in your crib, and all he can do is coo and nuzzle your face, trying to soothe you with his sound and scent.

You've got wings too, though yours are white. They're hardly there, a few soft and fluffy feathers; he makes sure to groom them because he knows his mother won't. Though it's probably for the best, he knows how to take care of the plumes, and he likes the feeling of taking care of you - taking care of his family . He watches you grow, sees the curiosity flicker in you when you interact with the world. When your hand holds onto his little finger, when your eyes start focusing on the things in front of you, when you start to coo back at him.

He loves you. Without any doubt in his mind, he loves you.

He calls you his little dove. It's his own personal name for you, a special term of endearment that only he knows. He feels special like that, you respond to being called 𝓓𝓸𝓿𝓮 more than your own name. It fills him up with a certain warmth that he's never really felt before, but there's a swell of pride knowing that you like the name he gave you more than the one your mother gave you.

He gives you all the love he never got. He hides you when his father's home, makes sure that you're fed and rested (though that's still hard at his small age), and that you never go too long without a kiss from him. He loves your reaction, he doesn't even know if you consciously do it, but whenever he presses his lips to your face you always give a small smile, even when you're asleep. He wonders what it is, wonders if the love he's planting in you is making you happier than he's ever been.

The vines of bonding that are normally supposed to connect parent to child seem to have twisted to bind you and Keigo. He's the person you cry for, he's the person who sleeps by your side, he's the person you look to for affection. And he gives it to you, infinite and endless, there's truly nothing more fulfilling to him than seeing you taken care of.

He wants to take care of you forever. He wants to protect you from the world. You're his beloved sister, his family, the only person who he'll let the blood you share connect you two. Confined within the rotting walls of your home, in your little world he's the strongest, he's the protector of your family.

But the world is so much bigger than the two of you. It's an endless empty space of cruelty, of rejection, of bodies bigger than Keigo's and hands that touch precious things with vile intentions. He knows vaguely of that world through his father, the string between your family and the outside world, the person who helped bring the both of you into this unkind life.

Maybe, in any other life, this could've been avoided. If you and Keigo were born into a proper family instead of having to forge one for yourself, living in your own little bubble of sweetness to combat the pool of bitterness you've both been thrown into. But the safety net he's created for you is fragile, hardly holding up to any real dangers of the world. And he, at the end of the day, is a child as well.

He doesn't really know what happened. He's seven years old, preening your wings after they had gotten messy with dust and dirt. His father is home, though he's sleeping in the living room. Then he hears sirens in the distance, and his mother takes you and Keigo to hide somewhere in the basement. You're restless, only three years old with a bad habit of fidgeting and shreking, and he barely makes it in time to shield you from the slap.

❝Keep her quiet.❞ His mother hisses.

He holds your face tightly in his neck, letting a low hum vibrate through his chest. You seem to calm, though your hands are still shaking as they clutch onto his shirt. You jump when there's a loud bang, and thundering footsteps can be heard above. There's yelling, sounds of some sort of struggle, but eventually the noise quiets down. He hears some people walking around the basement, he can see them through a crack in the hiding spot, but all they do is spare a quick glance around the space before they leave. The three of you stay in the basement for the night, and you fall asleep in the warmth of your brother's arms, the only thing he can give you.

You occasionally whine in your sleep, and he's quick to give a kiss on your head, rubbing through your feathers soothingly. ❝S'okay, Dove,❞ He says quietly, ❝I got you.❞

Life is different after that day. What little illusional the dirty house gave of a home was taken away, your mother holding your hands as you all walk around town, looking for the next place to sleep. Meals are even rarer, Keigo doing his hardest to make sure you've eaten at least once a day, even if that means skipping his own meals. His mother is constantly muttering under breath, talking about how she's trying to figure something out to get money, but weeks pass by and you become a family of walking skeletons.

His mother is always on the move, keeping a look out for who knows what. Keigo certainly doesn't, he can't understand what happened, where his father went, who are the people who took him, and why his mother took the both of you away. His only solace is found in you, in your heart where he's built his nest of love - his home . As long as you're with him, he doesn't complain, just focuses on taking care of you.

He wakes up one day, and the warmth of your body pressed against his is gone. He shoots up in a panic, and sees his mom sitting at his feet. She's biting her thumb, muttering again, crowds of people passing by the both of them like they don't exist. And for a moment he's not convinced he does, that this is a dream, because there's never been a moment where you weren't by his side. The space in his arms is empty, uncomfortable, makes him feel vulnerable to not have you covering his heart.

❝Where's Dove?❞ He asks, voice filled with panic. He grips his mother's arms because he doesn't know what to do with his body if he's not holding onto someone else's warmth. But her skin's cold, and she doesn't lean into his touch.  ❝Where is she?❞

❝She's being taken care of.❞ His mother mumbles. Everything about her scares him - the emptiness of her voice, her eyes, her body.  ❝He told me he would take care of her.❞

❝Who?❞ He's desperate to know, who took away his baby sister, his family ? Who felt like they could take care of you better than he can? Who could untangle your feathers better than he can? Who could kiss your boo boos better than he can? Who could love you better than he can?

His mother shrugs. ❝A nice man.❞

Keigo can feel the beginning of a sob ripple through his chest.❝When's he bringing her back?❞

[dontgetsalmonella]

Okay, so I have a Serpent and Dove theory. 

This might be a little obvious. and could be something that is common knowledge and I know this book isn’t too knew, but I just started reading the series and I figured this out today. 

So, when Lou gets bored of reading the books the church provides, Reid lends her a secret book he kept hidden in his room. Here is how he described it: 

“She accepted it gingerly, holding it between two fingers as if expecting it to bite her. “Well, this is unexpected. La Vie Éphémère . . .” She looked up from the cover, lips pursed. “The Fleeting Life. What’s it about?”

“It’s . . . a love story.”...

“Oh.” I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “It’s tastefully done. The characters are from warring kingdoms, but they’re forced to work together when they uncover a plot to destroy the world. They loathe each other initially, but in time, they’re able to set aside their differences and—”.... “It’s a story that examines the social construct of humanity, interprets the nuance of good versus evil, and explores the passion of war, love, friendship, death—” Death?” “Yes. The lovers die at the end.” .... ....“How can you cherish a book that ends in death?” “It doesn’t end in death. The lovers die, yes, but the kingdoms overcome their enmity and forge an alliance. It ends in hope.”” (Some of this excerpt is cut out for space) 

And while I hope I’m wrong, I kinda feel like the lovers in this book mirror Lou and Reid. The story, which is very similar to Romeo and Juliet, follows two lovers who are from fighting kingdoms who initially hate one another but grow to fall in love and ultimately die so that their kingdoms can be at peace. Lou and Reid follow that exact story, so I’m honestly a little scared for the next book. I feel like the author may of been hinting at a similar fate for them. Maybe they could die so that the humans and witches could be at peace?! I hope not, I really don’t want them to die, but IDK???!!! 

EDIT: Someone commented and said that they think it was just a parallel to Lou and Reid’s relationship, but doesn’t necessarily mean they will share the same fate, and I totally agree! 

[jacks4eva]

reaction to the lost hero by rick riordan

imma be honest this is a long time coming, okay so here’s the timeline we’re looking at so you understand me. i read lightning thief in middle school, dropped it and read it again in ninth grade. then i read sea of monsters, but never started titan’s curse. then for some reason in 11th grade i bought the second book in heroes of olympus and started to read it and got confused so i started to read titan’s curse and got to when percy took artemis’s place and then dropped it...again. very sad that time considering it was LEGIT THE END SO CLOSE. anyway yesterday i read the whole thing again and the battle of the labrinyth in like 6-8 hours. idk i can’t remember if i started at 10pm or midnight but i finished at 6am. anyways today i read the last olympian, and now i’m starting the lost hero. i thought it’d be funny to do my reactions.

this timeline is just funny because i have read so many books, and yet the most popular ones like percy jackson and harry potter, didn’t wanna finish lol. i still haven’t finished goblet of fire yet i read 100 pages an hour and could probably finish it in a day. anyways.

let the reactions begin

okay i’ve heard of jason but i was not expecting a pov already

woah electrocution

he’s already got a love interest what

he said the coach is 5’0 i now imagine the coach as danny devito i have no choice

piper and leo yes i recognize these names

(i’ve seen a lot of posts about percy jackson okay)

i like leo i don’t like dylan

i love the starwars reference

oh look guys we got popular girls that are racist, can they get their asses beat in this pls

dylan is also racist for smiling-asswipe

we love the cherokee representation

i hate them so much can they please leave

“i had to say something” i like coach hedge is this bad

i hope percy is the storm but i just know i wouldn’t be that lucky

ofc dylan is a racist monster

danny devito never returned :(

PLS TELL ME THESE REINFORCEMENTS ARE PERCY AND ANNABETH

who is the bulky dude

i’m sorry i’m laughing he’s a big scary dude with his head shaved and A RAINBOW TATTOO and his name is butch

oh so that’s why percy isn’t here

okay usually when reading i can form some kind of theory or connection but at this point i literally have no clue what is happening

i just knew as soon as he asked that he had abilities with fire but i was not expecting fire fingers

wow what a first impression “you should be dead”

wait so all i remember from the son of neptune was the beginning had percy alone i think and i’m not sure if he had his memory or maybe not and he was running away from monsters, so is what’s happening to jason similar to that? and WILL PERCY NOT BE FOUND IN THIS BOOK?

“That also was necessary. Long ago, your father gave me your life as a gift to placate my anger. He named you Jason, after my favorite mortal. You belong to me.

“Whoa,” Jason said. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

Now is the time to pay your debt, she said. Find my prison. Free me, or their king will rise from the earth, and I will be destroyed. You will never retrieve your memory.”

... okay theories, um a goat skin cloak was mentioned to have been owned by Zeus’s foster mother and that he owned it so the woman could either be the foster mother or Hera. If it was Hera, it would make sense that Zeus gave his son to placate her anger at his cheating or whatever. They are also trapped in Olympus, so prison would make sense. Hera was brought up a lot too, and according to wiki Hera persuaded Aphrodite to make her son make Medea fall in love with a mortal named Jason, so more than likely the lady is Hera. Their king will rise from earth could be the king from the battle of the labrynth, maybe. Or another king ya know there are so many.

Wait a minute

Something else I know about their names is Jason’s last name...JASON GRACE I thought it sounded familiar, because of Thalia Grace. Hah look at me being correct. That explains the flying and not being burnt by a lightning bolt—oh I’m stupid for not seeing it sooner.

Now just gotta figure out who Piper’s parent is.

Aha so I was right it was Hera.

Chiron not being able to give the information they need is kind of annoying.

Enceladus? So a giant offspring of Gaia, um...no bueno. Not a king tho.

“Child of lightning, beware the earth, The giants’ revenge the seven shall birth, The forge and dove shall break the cage, And death unleash through Hera’s rage.”

Okay theory time, child of lightning is obviously Jason. Beware the Earth...yeah no clue. The giants’ revenge the seven shall birth, the giants are probably the children of Gaia since that one giant was her child and it’s the seven are probably the seven half bloods from the great prophecy. The forge and dove shall break the cage, um maybe Leo is the forge since he’s hephaestus’s child (probably butchered the spelling). Doves are typically associated with aphrodite/venus, so idk about that. Maybe Piper is Venus’s child, I mean her God parent is her mom and it’d be funny since she was judging the other aphrodite kids. Also I assume Hera will kill whoever trapped her or someone involved since she’s so mad. Idk.

Could kill Drew btw.

CALLED IT CALLED IT CALLED IT IM A GENIUSSS

Wait. This woman looks like Hera, her clothes are made of Earth and she said Leo would fight her children trying to wake her. They’re gonna try to wake Gaia, which would make sense that it said stay away from Earth if she’s the Earth Goddess

I like the wolves thing because Romulus and Remus, ya know the twin boys who were raised by wolf and started Rome.

“You are our saving grace, as always. The she-wolf curled her lip, as if she had just made a clever joke”

I mean yeah his last name is grace

“She must really like this Percy guy to search for him so hard, and that made Jason a little envious. Was anyone searching for him right now? What if somebody cared for him that much and was going out of her mind with worry, and he couldn’t even remember his old life?”

so what if Percy’s just chilling at the Roman version of camp halfblood without a clue to who he is? bro.

Imagine reading this and seeing all of things I get right and wrong and wanting to slam your head into a wall.

Okay like idk why Annabeth was freaking out we kind of knew they were siblings, I mean they have the same dad. Unless this is saying they have the same mom or are twins or something. That’d be cool. That’s probably what he’s saying tbh but still, could’ve emphasized it more than “that’s my sister” like dude.

Anyway, they look very different so that’s funny.

King Boreas? uh.

Oo French

Let’s see what I can translate from the very little duolingo I did. Bienvenu, maybe a greeting. Idk which tho. Je suis Piper, I am Piper. Et c’est Jason, fils de Zeus, and this is Jason, son of Zeus. Vous parlez francais? tres bien, you speak french? good. Hey not bad, not shockingly good but considering I did the duolingo lessons 4 years ago, not bad. Vrai? Truth? Yeah I just looked it up.

Danny devito is alive!

“Leo scratched his head. “Well, I dunno about Enchiladas—”

“Enceladus,” Piper corrected.”

Leo is me omfg

DANNY DEVITO IS BACK

Arrows...HUNTERS OF ARTEMIS PLS?

“Leo stepped out next. “You’re catching me, too, Superman. But I ain’t holding your hand.”

this made me laugh ok moving on

Uh fight a sea monster? bro is Jason just Percy 2.0

“Aphrodite’s message was clear: This one needs no improvement.

And Piper agreed.”

I wonder if you can hear me squealing from hundreds or thousands of miles away

Did you miss the fact that he’s thirty feet tall— I DIED

Who slew titan k-what now? So basically yes. Percy 2.0

Okay I recognize the name Hazel, and all I ask is that she is not involved with Jason because Jason and Piper are really freaking cute.

an exchange of leaders, SO THEY DID SWITCH THEM

The way I called it

I WAS RIGHT AHA

anyways. time to read son of neptune

[lukecastellandeservedbetter]

7. Lightning Strikes Twice In The Same Place

a/n: and I’m back!! (kinda). I’m still in the process of moving, I’m currently in a hotel room, posting this on really shitty wifi. Updates will be more regular when I’m settled. 

read the others!: Masterlist

Luke was tired, and cranky, and genuinely did not want to be at the campfire.

But after Jason had his vision of Hera, of all people, and Piper got dragged in with a similar vision in Hera’s cabin, Chiron heavily suggested Luke appear at the campfire.

Despite everything, even Chiron couldn’t deny that Luke was one of the best warriors at camp.

So there he was, still at the fire, watching people singing How Grandma Dresses For War, goofing around, the Apollo cabin breaking out the lyres.

He kept glancing at Jason, furrowing his eyebrows. The boy seemed a little confused a lot of the time. He was young too, maybe a year younger than Percy? That would make sense, if he is who Luke is nearly certain he is.

Gods usually didn’t have more than one child with a mortal. Connor and Travis were the only exception to the rule, as far as he was aware. Castor and Pollux didn’t really count, since they had been actual twins.

Whatever little Luke knew about Thalia’s brother, he knew less about her mom. They didn’t talk about their moms, they weren’t important in the grand scheme of things.

But something told Luke this wasn’t just a godly parent connection.

He also could be completely off his rockers and exhausted and looking for connections that weren’t there because of the amount of stress he had experienced in the last three days, trying to find Percy, trying to keep Sally notified, trying to keep peace between the cabins without the tension relieving activity of capture the flag even though he was pretty sure he just caused more tension since any campers that were in the war didn’t trust or like him much, and relayed the information to the new campers.

“By the gods Luke, you’ll burn a hole in his head if you keep looking at him like that.” Connor commented, leaning back while eating a roasted marshmallow.

Most of the campers anyways.

“Oh shut up,” He rolled his eyes.

“Why’s the new kid on your radar?” Travis butted in, settling in on the other side of Luke after being dragged into a dance with an Apollo camper. “Think he’s cute?”

Luke contemplated telling the Stolls. They were pretty good at secret keeping- they had to be he supposed with the amount of pranks they pulled on everyone -but Luke wasn’t even sure it was considered a secret yet, just a theory.

The Stolls exchanged looks. Luke wasn’t even falling into the bait. They both sat up and glanced around.

“What’s going on?” Connor asked quietly. “What is it?”

Not to mention the incident with the fountain of Iris, Luke had gotten pretty good at pushing away the feeling of Kronos locking him in his own head, seeing his reflection and never being quite sure enough if he was actually looking at him. The job helped, Sally and Percy helped, Beth helped. For a moment he had felt normal.

But this couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

It certainly wasn’t the first time he could’ve sworn his eyes were gold. In fact, if you looked closely, his eyes still had a gold undertone, a parting gift from the Titan King himself. Luke would never be able to escape his past.

“Luke,” Travis put a hand on his shoulder, and Luke reached for the sword he’d left back at the Big House.

Thank gods, otherwise Travis would be a Stoll-Kabab.

Travis and Connor weren’t serious often, but they could certainly tell when their older brother was off. He’d become an open book since Kronos.

“Luke, what’s going on?” He whispered. “Is it Jason?”

“Do you know his godly parent?” Connor butted in.

Before Luke could answer, Chiron came over, Piper and Rachel following suit, making an announcement about Hera, Jason and the quest he inevitably had to go on. Before they could inquire further, Rachel was reciting the Great Prophecy.

The second one that is.

Eight half-bloods will answer the call,

To Storm or Fire the world must fall,

An oath to keep with a final breath,

And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death.

With a brief latin interruption from Jason, a camper brought up a rather good point.

“Why isn’t he claimed then?” Someone shouted.

“He is claimed,” Chiron corrected grimly. “Jason, show them.”

Jason held out his arm, showing off the eagle, that same uneasy expression on his face. Luke watched him look to Piper before pulling a coin out, flipping it.

In an instant, Jason was holding a javelin, and everyone was gushing over it.

“I want one!” Someone from Ares Cabin shouted.

“It’s so much better than Clarisse’s electric spear.” Someone else commented.

Luke watched Jason look at his spear thoughtfully and his eyes widened, grabbing Travis and Connor  and pulling them down moments before lightning flashed over their heads.

Before Connor and Travis could comment on Luke’s instinct, Chiron urged Jason to announce his godly parent.

“Jupiter- or, Zeus, rather. Lord of the Sky.” Jason announced, looking back at his tattoo.

“You don’t look particularly surprised,” Travis observed.

Luke leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, narrowing his eyes in thought. “He reminds me of Thalia.”

“Thalia?” The Stolls repeated, looking at him.

Luke nodded.

Before they could prompt their brother to explain, Rachel was reciting Jason’s personal quest.

Child of lightning beware the Earth,

The giants revenge the eight shall birth,

The forge and dove shall break the cage,

And death unleash through Hera’s rage.

It was clear now if it wasn’t before- the Second Great Prophecy was in the first phase, and Jason was meant to lead it.

After volunteering to go, Leo immediately made a mad dash for the forest- not a great start. Piper didn’t seem thrilled about the claiming but it certainly solidified her spot on the quest.

Piper and Jason went their own ways after the quest was assigned, and everyone was slowly trying to get back into the spirit of the fire.

Luke looked to the sky, lost in thought.

Why couldn’t things be easy, just for one night?

He went back to the Big House, going to his room and collapsing onto the bed.

He needed to get some sleep.

It was going to be a long time until he got a real bed again.

[abalonetea]

okay, so! @thebisexualpirate brought to my attention that I haven’t done a wip introduction for Groundhog Day for a while! so, to old followers that want a reminder, and to new followers just starting out, let me introduce you to the light of my writing life, Groundhog Day!

on a meta level, dual video games were released. Fields of Fara, a classic rpg fantasy, and Fara Falls, a more gritty counter-game. these games take place in lands that are almost the same, with characters that are almost the same. they are part of a larger set - the Fara Chronicles - in which every game model is based off of Fields of Fara.

on a level that is far more pertaining to the story, we follow a motley cast of characters within the confines of their two versions of Fara, as their games glitch up horrible, and they are set down a path no one expected.

a long time before the story begins, the First Glitch descends on the world of Fara. at this point in time, the kingdom loses their king, their prince, and their princess...and in her grief, the Queen takes off to lands unknown, trying desperately to hold her HEART together, and leaves the kingdom in a state of disarray. so when Midnight, a queen from lands forgotten, comes to offer her aid, they happily hand her the crown.

and for a time, all is well. at least, that’s what the masses think. but then the First Glitch evolves, and suddenly, the time loop that the kingdom is trapped in can be remembered by more than just Aba, the plant elemental forced into a villain’s role. suddenly, Blue, a paladin that doubles as a Royal Scientist, can remember the loops, too. and, suddenly, more glitches are cropping up all over the land.

this is where the story begins - with a new glitch, one that sends Blue into the neighboring game of Fara Falls, and his counter part, Red, into Fields of Fara. what follows is a race to get home before Blue meets his Game Over that quickly turns into something else, as new bonds are made, family is forged in coding and Hope, and a New War threatens to shake Fields of Fara to its very core.

who’s the cast?

Queen Midnight, of Fields of Fara: the most beautiful woman in all the lands, and a refugee from Twill, a land deleted during the Beta Wars. she seeks to turn Fara into a utopia, where no one ever ages, where no one ever dies, and will do anything to preserve her kingdom...even kill off half of it.

Blue: a paladin in Fields of Fara that works as a scientist in the Royal Labs, helping research the Code of the World and, in his free time, studying the multi-verse theory. hit by a glitch that has him at one HP indefinately, fighting is far from his mind. he can summon Looney Tune style black holes to cross throguh the Void.

Locke: a knight-in-training from Fields of Fara, and the Goodest Good Boi in all the lands. he’s dating Blue, and they’ve been living together for years. fights with bone magic and fire magic. has a thing about killing, and is always looking for the best in people.

Motti: one of the Butterfly People from Fields of Fara, and Blue’s lab partner. she’s a tired little worker moth that doesn’t have time for any of this bullshit.

Flame: a fire elemental and the general for the Fields of Fara Royal Guard. he’s a war hero from the Delta Wars that drinks too much and lives alone with his bird dragon, Wrinkles. his loyalty is wrapped up in too many promises, and he’s something of a personal mentor to Locke.

Polynya: a water elemental and captain of Fields of Fara’s Royal Guard. she’s the Queen of the Seafire and led the guard through the Delta Wars. she will do anything not to have to fight in another war. dating Ginia.

Ginia: a plant elemental that runs a flower shop in the Capitol. she was a paladin during the Delta War, and now dates Polynya. during the story, she’s wrangled into the position of Royal Gardener.

Aba: the first character to be caught in the glitch. his coding has been altered by Kee, forcing him into a plant elemental state, as well as changing his title from HERO to VILLAIN. near fifteen years of dying and loops has left his mental state altered, his HEART damaged, and his code fractured.

Kee: the villain. don’t trust her.

other people of note in Fields of Fara include Miss Denna, Razzle, Cordial, Cocoa, the Collector, the Butterfly People, and the Witch of the Woods!

Queen Midnight, of Fara Falls: lost to her Level, she is a fracture of her former self, twisted and bitter and violent. she rules the kingdom with an iron fist, and hosts balls that double as executions. her Level is 100.

Red: a paladin who lost his magic due to a head injury when he was younger, he’s been living with Bolte since they were just kids. he’s a fixer, of clothes and flesh, and tries his best to patch Bolte up when he comes home bloody. bitter and filled with a lot of inner turmoil.

Bolte: the General for Fara Falls’ Royal Guard, a knight that fights with bone and fire magic. with a Level in his 30s, and a lot of scars under his belt, he’s traded in his Goodness and Hope for the world, in favor of keeping Red alive. would burn the country down for Red. very brusque. comes off as an asshole.

Captain: head of the Royal Guard, a crocodile woman with more scars than scales. missing an eye, and with a booming voice, she cuts an intimidating figure. very close with Bolte, and biding her time until she can over throw the Queen.

Celeste: the genderfluid spider bard that runs the Casino, and a host of other illicit activities. sometimes snacks on people, with a flair for fashion and a strange fondness for Blue. they’re better than you.

other people of note in Fara Falls include Denna, Castor, Rattcliffe, Anna, and the Corrupted!

a brief glossary of terms

HEART: the physical embodiment of your life force

Game Over: dying

Inventory: an endless space where you can store items

EXP: points gained for killing someone

Level: the weight of your HEART

finally adding my tags to this! going through the “Tag later” tag oops

@writings-of-a-narwhal @elaynab-writing @writersloth  @cometworks @deadlyessencewhispers @nora-wrote-a book @georgiacambrielwritblr @rmorada  @drabbleitout @inked-foundry @srazar  @salvasti @a-place-of-babble @lady-redshield-writes@ohlooksheswriting@bookish-actor @indecentpause @kobalt-ink @marniebalboa @carmenwrites @quilloftheclouds @shadeshadow234  @ethilite @livvywrites @maple-writes @writings-of-a-narwhal @krisseycrystal @writting-with-you @inkpot-dreamer @thebisexualpirate @caitwritesstuff @dove-actually @writersloth @writing-with-roses​ @tabbykatwrites @leave-her-a-tome @antique-symbolism

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 6

Table of Contents Go to first. Go to previous. Go to next.

Updated 2019.01.29. (Minor name tweaks.) Insects tw.

That night after pairing a dinner of pan-seared Cram with a few shots of bourbon, Carey slept on the couch in the second floor lobby. He bundled up comfortably in a hospital blanket from the stock room. As much as his mind protested, he knew better than to sleep in his new braces and binding--especially not the corset. But, he reminded himself that he could simply don them fresh upon waking.

Day three at the pharmacy crowned first thing with Carey testing the elevator once more. As much as his constitution had prioritized his need to seek out the orthotics--god, sprinting down the Commons like that had felt disgusting--he knew exactly what he wanted lay on the third story. And while he had the braces on his side, he hoped that the elevator could shuttle him there reliably.

So, he located scales in the stock room. From there, he estimated he weighed just over a 110 pounds clothed, and he made Angel hover on one as well, to guarantee its thrusters’ applied pressure didn’t translate into weight. It stepped off, still confused.

“I’m not sure what this accomplishes, Sir.”

“Here, bring me a walker.”

“Surely.” It complied, and when indicated, balanced it folded up and upside-down on the scale. “Eleven pounds.”

Carey looked over to where the walkers were stored, folded up on the shelf.

“Put... ten of them in the elevator car for me, please. No, twelve.”

“I might have a misunderstanding of how these are used, if you need so many...”

“Look, they’re just the easiest unit of measurement I have handy. I don’t need a walker.” I don’t think, anyway... “I know it seems funny, but.”

Once Angel achieved the request, Carey pushed the third floor button and let the elevator travel upward. Once the light went off on the operating panel, he called the elevator back to the second floor.

“Twelve more.”

“...Yes, Sir.”

A second test proved the elevator could handle roughly a minimum 250 pounds.

“You can put them back in the stock room now.”

“As you wish.” Angel hovered back and forth with its three tentacle-limbs each loaded with four walkers at a time. “Seeing as you didn’t consider the elevator safe enough to test personally, does... whatever this was... assuage your fears of it?”

“I think I could handle riding it to the third floor, if that’s what you’re asking.” Carey stood and snatched up the last of his sweet roll, and shoved it in his mouth. He dusted off his hands in a steeling gesture, then stepped into the again-empty elevator. His grin with a cane across the car threshold kept the pocket doors from shutting. “Come with me?”

Angel rushed to cram in with its owner.

“Oh! So soon?”

“Third floor,” the elevator announced, holographic and androgynous.

With a pleased sigh, Carey exited the car with his Handy in tow. The doors shut behind them. This floor’s lobby had two armchairs and a coffee table, and some large fake potted plants. The door to the stairwell was in tact, as were the bathrooms. Like the two floors before it, this lobby still boasted both elevators. Unlike the other floors, besides access to the other floors this one only had a single heavy white wooden panel door. Before entering, he put his hood on again from his back pocket.

The chemist let himself in, and walked into what looked like a reception desk littered with paperwork, a terminal, and a keyboard. The light of his Pip-Boy scattered across the receptionist who now lay decomposed in the floor beside her office chair. Relieved to have found no ghouls, he took his hood back off, his hair mussed worse for nothing. Behind the desk stood a heavy digital security door. Squinting, Carey tried to peek in with a hand against the glass. He could see a faint green glow, but had no way of knowing if it came from a backup power source or the indicator light to something inside. He banged his fist on the glass angrily and slouched at the computer terminal with a growl.

“Fuck me. I knew the chems would be behind glass like this.” He scrutinized the terminal on the desk. “At least the terminal the door’s wired to is still working. It’s heavily encrypted, though. Could take me days, weeks, to figure it out.”

“Is it really so critical to gain access to the chem stores?” A hard pause and Carey turned his head slow to glare at his Handy. “Yes, yes, it’s certain to have some kind of medication that can help.” It knew this had nothing to do with its owner’s health.

“Could you be a dear and... make me a pot of coffee, Angel? I’m going to be at this for the rest of the afternoon.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Angel dashed off, grateful for the chance to get away before popping off sarcasm. Besides, it knew his chem stash was inside it, and if it excused itself, he couldn’t get at them.

Carey found the password was ten characters long, based on the command line which blinked at him. This newer model of RobCo terminal interfaced with Pip-Boys, to his delight: it took both holotapes and the key-prong. Eager, he rooted around the receptionist’s desk drawers for a holotape he could cannibalize. The receptionist relied heavily upon a large library of them, and she had entire dedicated file cabinet specially suited for them among the furniture of the small office. After loading a few of them to browse, he found one with only two or three entries on it, and proceeded to format it.

“Thank you, Eleanor.”

While the tape formatted, he continued rummaging the desk. Nothing looked like it could have been the cheat for the password. Before he dove into repurposing the holotape, he made sure no holotapes in the library stuck out to him, which might have been the key all along.

Carey removed his Pip-Boy and set it up on the counter. He pulled up the command screen on it and loaded the blank holotape into its cassette tray, then plugged in the key-prong to make use of the terminal’s keyboard. He still hadn’t figured out how to input data into the Pip-Boy directly, and this was a facile cop-out. By the time Angel returned, he’d gotten embroiled in composing a simple decryption tape.

“Here you go.” It set a clean mug of hot black coffee beside its owner. “Is the going as tough as you expected?”

“Not so sure yet. I’m just grateful RobCo put out any cross-compatible models before the world ended. I don’t even know if it’s possible to write anything to this Mark IV model of Pip-Boy. You remember that I clocked into the Deenwood Compound with the key-prong of my Mark III model? The thing had a holotape in it we had to guard with our lives, and plugging it into the security door loaded the data from the holotape into its terminal, which only had the key-prong and not the holotape cassette tray. Two-part key. I guess that’s how they kept people from doing what I’m doing now.” He nodded thankfully as he picked up the mug with one hand and took a testing sip. When it didn’t taste horrid, he took a second. “Exquisite. It may be two hundred years old, but fresh ground coffee still tastes fresh. Angel, you still make the best coffee.”

“That means the world to hear, Sir.” Its ocular lens flitted anxiously. “What is it that you’re ‘doing now’?”

“I’m writing an algorithm that suppresses the encryption that’s censoring what each byte of data holds in it. It’s not going to crack the password for me, but it’s at least going to let me see letters instead of a billion bytes of punctuation. If I’m lucky, it’s a word and not a random set of characters.” Carey stopped a moment and counted on his fingers as he mouthed the letters. “Damn, ‘pharmacy’ is eight letters. ‘Pharmaceutical’?” He shook his head.

“I’m not sure that’s wise, though I’m most impressed, Sir.”

A few more skims of the script left Carey confident enough to pop in the tape into his Pip-Boy and run it. It seemed to work, Eleanor’s screen then displaying twelve ten-letter words, interspersed with miles of ASCII symbols. He didn’t see any good guesses among them, so he tried the first on the screen: CIRCUMFLEX. His script indicated the input had only two characters in common with the answer.

With so little overlap, he couldn’t readily discern a pattern; so, he tried the second word: JACKANAPES. It also had two characters in common--however, his script told him one of these characters was in a different position from those of the first guess. He wasn’t a master at hacking or decryption, just good at undermining basic protocols, so the formula to putting this information to good use didn’t present itself immediately. He started scrawling notes on a piece of scrap paper, and jotted down the twelve words so he could still study them should the terminal clam up like he thought it would likely soon.

The third blind attempt--ACQUIESCED--had yet another pair of characters in common. He wondered if any of these three pairs overlapped. Noticing the trend, he observed finally that all twelve possibilities had an ‘E’ in the ninth position, and he bit his upper lip. He scrawled a sort of Hangman at the top of his notes:

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ E _

The computer let him have a fourth try, so he tried the fourth option: SEXUALIZED. He laughed in frustration when this not only was wrong--the terminal locked him out for trying too many times. Yet, thanks to his decryption script, the screen displayed that the guess had four positions in common with the actual password--three which he hadn’t had prior.

As he downed his rapidly room-temperature coffee, he pored over the twelve words looking for further patterns. Six of them ended in a ‘D,’ and ACQUIESCED was the only one of those that didn’t end in ‘IZED.’ He’d already tried SEXUALIZED, so he had his next four attempts narrowed down fairly quickly once he formed a strategy. In hindsight, it would have benefited him to forge a strategy before the series of attempts.

The screen said Carey still had 34 minutes before it would let him test his theory. He sat back with a sigh, and glanced around the room with closer attention to detail. Angel had gone back downstairs. He took a smoke break and glanced down at Eleanor. Cautious, he knelt down to check her for valuables. In addition to praising she had on her person what looked like the passkey to the private elevator, he also took the silver locket around her neck. He couldn’t make out more than there being three faces between its two halves, the snippets of photography faded beyond recognition. He pocketed the passkey and jewelry, and proceeded to go through the desk for valuables now that he’d combed it initially for keys. Something felt so relatably muddy about the passing thought that the password had died with her.

“I’m about to get it, though,” he told her, “especially if it lets me try four more times.”

The time didn’t pass quickly enough, and his mind wandered again to the African beetles. He recalled folk medicine making use of all kinds of insects, for all kinds of remedies. Termites, centipedes, even grasshoppers, scorpions, and spiders. He also knew of the less reputable uses, as the vehicle of imbuing the individual with different boons... or as the source for powerful hallucinogens. A resin distilled from the finely ground powder of a particular arachnid he couldn’t recall the identity of--camel didn’t sound right--had been highly sought after in the black market, and he and Jacob had dealt with it several times. Simply named, the junkies called it Resin. From his understanding, its psychotropic potency exceeded that of even psilocybin, or even Jet, and one typically heated it just enough to liquefy in order to inject it. He never sampled the stuff himself, owing to its notoriously high addition rate.

He’d had enough expensive habits to nurture.

Half of them went into cooking Melancholia. Melancholy. You are what you put in your body, right? He’d have to take stock of how much of the chem-coction Angel had left.

The Handy had left the carafe of coffee with him, and he topped off his cup. His thoughts returned to the giant cockroaches and horseflies that had infested the New England Commonwealth. He wondered if any served the same significance as the Resin scorpion?

Eleanor’s terminal let him in again at last, and he hunkered down to scrutinize his choices against the list to ensure it hadn’t shuffled them. All four of his theory-words still appeared among them and he sighed, taking one last puff off his cigarette before putting it out in Eleanor’s ashtray. OXYGENIZED. Five in common, proving to Carey his theory held clout. Among the remaining three, he ruled out the unlikely TEXTURIZED, and tried SEQUELIZED. When that didn’t work, power of elimination left him with ALCHEMIZED.

Somehow, he’d all along had a feeling it was the right answer. He’d always thought he liked Eleanor.

After confirming the password, Carey left the door shut. He called out to Angel to see if it was within earshot, so he could report his success, but he didn’t get a response. He put his Pip-Boy back on and took his cane and his cup of coffee with him into the pharmacy lab and stock room alone.

His Pip-Boy cast a hard rim light on the equipment and shelving. To his left around the corner lay the chem lab, and to his right, the pharmaceutical stock with a dozen or so metal stock shelves. Even better than he expected, he sipped on his coffee, and took in his victory in awe. Given some acclimating, this could certainly be a veritable playground for Melancholy.

The chemist specialized in sedatives and painkilling agents. That’s what the military wanted him for: to study the applications of opiates. The more he thought about it, the more he felt the moniker fit him better than his own name, or nationalized name, ever had. He’d gone by his last name longer than he could even remember the exact point at which he’d committed to it. But to become a symbol, an avatar of the poppy? He had already, in his short time unfrozen, become something entirely otherworldly than he’d known in his past life.

Yes. Before the vault. That was a past life. Being frozen had been antiseptic in nature, and killed off the bacterial infections of compunction and reservation. This new world fostered a culture which could nourish and condition the latent aspects hidden away within himself which humanity had failed to recognize. Without time, he could tell neither if this quality was pieces of his identity to which society had been willfully oblivious, nor some vestigial proof of an embrace of atavistic progress.

But he would tap into it here. This building would be a crucible for change.

As he leaned proudly against the desk at the inventory side of the room, he felt a sharp pain in his foot, and jerked with a hiss. The mug shattered in the floor when he dropped it, and coffee splattered everywhere. He flashed his Pip-Boy this way and that because he heard the spill agitated something in here. Breathing heavy, he clutched at his cane. He wasn’t alone. Another ankle-bite jerked him to the floor, and he slid head-first backwards into the metal desk-front. With him now in the floor, the vermin revealed themselves, a dozen RadRoaches skittering eagerly toward their next meal.

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[strawberrykweenie]

concrete screws: 10 Things I Wish I'd Known Earlier

The concrete operational stage is the 3rd stage of advancement of a toddler’s believing that takes place roughly amongst the ages of six and twelve (Jean Piaget’s Stage Theories, n.

This is certainly tied off with wire towards the rebar at quite a few details. In case the remesh is Slice to in which there isn't a good wire that rests from the rebar, tie it off at the primary a person out there. (See photographs two and 4)

It is obvious that this homeowner isn’t afraid of coloration. They chose a Rosemary coloured best and backsplash to accent the "contractor blue tape" cupboards.

Develop a Help Body and Prep the Wire Observe movie of this stage. Once the outer mildew is finished, you’ll will need to develop a support frame to surround it. The concrete you’ll be pouring is significant – about ten to 15 kilos per-sq. foot and you simply don’t want the sides with the mould to bend with the load. Evaluate the mould and Slice a number of 2x4s for any assistance frame around it. Lay three boards beneath the mold - lengthwise, Each individual a bit lengthier than the particular mildew. You’ll use this below hold to assistance the end 2x4s. Attach them with 2-inch screws. Then insert the remaining two side pieces and fix them to the very first two, completing the frame.

This custom designed residential concrete countertop attributes an integral drain board, inlaid copper, and a large around hanging breakfast bar supported by a stainless steel leg.

The countertops undoubtedly are a roman slate texture right after becoming tricky troweled. They had been also sanded a lot of occasions prior to the last colorant. The perimeters are shaped to appear to be damaged stone. The sink/island features a two-foot overhang. See additional shots from this contractor >>

Circular kitchen contains an island that is definitely 50 % concrete and 50 % butcher block. Forged in purely natural gray, the concrete was then ground to expose the mixture, which were seeded with mother of pearl.

Since the perimeters are Prepared, you should seal all of the within seams with silicone caulk. Pick a shade that stands out against the melamine.

This 18' lengthy jet black island resembles a concrete surfboard. Lexan, the material used to make nalgene bottles, was employed During this countertop for added, bendable toughness.

They could fairly deduce from People two statements that it is possible that their teacher is consequently a vegetarian, but not all children would be able to make this type of leap of deductive logic.

Combine and Pour the Concrete Watch movie of the stage. For our 12-sq.-foot countertop, we needed 3 sixty-pound bags of All set-blend concrete. Add drinking water into the concrete and mix using a shovel for each the company's instructions. If you wish to add colour into the countertop, now’s time to incorporate pigment to the mix. Pigment additives are available in powder or liquid. Liquid pigments are very easy to evaluate and mix, Primarily with tiny concrete batches such as this one particular. But don’t neglect to account for the level of drinking water during the pigment when measuring the water to the concrete. Controlling the level of drinking water added to the concrete combine is critical to making consistent coloration. Confer with the manufacturer's pointers. Mixing the concrete properly is significant to its strength and longevity. When it achieves the texture of peanut butter it’s time and energy to increase it into the mildew. Take into account that the concrete at The underside of mildew will turn into the best of the concrete slab.

This darkish suede countertop reveals a drain board with stainless metal rod inserts. The countertop is steel troweled. See more pics from this contractor >>

An illuminated concrete countertop showcasing fiber optic lights. The Concrete Countertop Institute is presenting classes for incorporating fiber optics into counters due to the fact 2006.

This kitchen exhibits the flexibility of concrete. The countertops demonstrated in Dove Gray, are metal troweled. The try to eat-in bar is held up with two hand-packed cones as supports for the composition.

[likesplatterpaint]

Moments

[please forgive my lack of Read More/Cut, I'm stuck on mobile]

I bought Hybrid Theory as an 11 year old, at Toys R Us. A world opened for me and my budding desires to write. I couldn’t fully understand the pain and anger this man was singing about through my own heart, but my characters sure could.

Reanimation gave my imagination greater depth as I fought glorious battles in my head. The opening riff of Krawling’s violin still holds me spellbound every time I hear it.

Meteora crackled into my life as an unsure middle schooler who just wanted somewhere to belong, who was just beginning to sing the notes of a soul starting to crack against the oppressive forces Chester screamed back at.

Minutes to Midnight hit as I was an angry senior in high school, ready to leave behind everything in my small hometown. I was barely treading water after my mother’s transplant and all the changes that came with it. I sweat out each beat of “Bleed It Out” on a treadmill I didn’t want or need to be on with pounding feet. I sang “In Pieces” through clenched teeth in my bedroom time after time when my father let me down and refused to be part of my life. I brayed “What I’ve Done” and prepared for a new start. I remember blasting “New Divide” the summer before I began college, clinging to the hope of a new start and surviving such a huge transition.

I whispered the words to My December as winter of Freshman year showed me death and took my closest confident away from me, my grandmother.

I still remember the moment I first watched the video for The Catalyst. Sitting at my plain dorm room desk, a sophomore in college, I played it over and over as I tried to make sense of the constant chaos in my life as it began to crumble at the home and family I so desperately wanted to be away from. When They Come For Me became my anthem for rare moments of confidence.

Waiting For The End carried me through the Thanksgiving from hell the next year, when my parents screamed at each other, my mother locked herself in her bedroom and I realized how mentally ill my she had become. It held me as I realized how broken things had become. It gave me hope I would survive because “I know what it takes to move on. I know how it feels to lie. All I wanna do is trade my life for something new, holding on to what I haven’t got.” The stars and constellations around Chester’s face mystified me as he sang me through my grief. And he picked me up through Iridescent a year later when my mother and stepfather split, and I felt as though the bottom of my world had fallen out. I’m sure he sang me through the night my mother threatened to kick me out in December that year.

And Living Things came a year later, as I prepared to graduate into an uncertain world and watched my mother decline further. I dove headfirst into depression, even though I didn’t understand it at the time. I whispered “I’ll be gone” to myself the night before graduation. I bound my heart to my closest friend’s through Roads Untraveled, as we struggled to stay alive to some day be happy and stable. I painted to Powerless and screamed it with tears streaming down my face after each soul destroying phone call as I watched my mother try to drown herself and everyone else within reach. I understood to my core what he was singing about then. I breathed that song that year.

Recharged brought me a new song and a whole world of hurt as my boyfriend of two years left me, I started a new job, and became nearly mom’s sole support system. I shouted along to Waiting For a Light That Never Comes, desperately wanting my day in the sun, desperately sure that life would never bring anything but chaos.

And then came The Hunting Party, two months after my mom died. Two weeks before the job that would bring me to my home. I found my catharsis and grief in Until It’s Gone, mourning my mother and my old life. I drowned out he buzzing in my ears and acknowledged both the finality and mortality of life with Final Masquerade. It felt as though someone could see into my soul, took my grief and fear, all my unresolved words and feelings, and forged them into the notes. It let me scream to someone who was long gone, who I would never get my closure with, let me howl that I missed them but would never forgive them. It held the vortex of every complex emotion I felt as I fell into my new life.

And then silence until this May.

Where, for once in my life, Linkin Park found me stable. Healing. Still struggling with anxiety and trauma but living. Happy.

They gave me Battle Symphony to rally to, when I needed to remember that I had the tools to fight my anxiety and depression now. They’ve given me Heavy to sing when I won’t slip into despondence but need to acknowledge how hard and taxing life is. They gave me Talking to Myself when I felt I wasn’t being heard. Invisible for the students I desperately wanted to reach. Good Goodbye to move toward another transition in my life.

They gave me One More Light for the grief I still carry but no longer struggle with, for all the times I thought about ending my own life when it was too much.

I know their music carried the same significance to so many others. Chester’s voice was a part of my life for 15 years. He sang me through some of my worst moments, and like so many other fans, he’ll never know my name.

But I’m thankful to have known his voice, and how he lent it amongst his own struggles and pain to let so many others like myself know that they were not alone. That there was hope but there was also crushing darkness that needed to be acknowledged in order to be healed.

Thank you, Chester Bennington.

May you rest in peace and know how many lives you touched, and likely saved.

[ladybuvelle]

The Rise and Fall of House Buvelle

Compared to other prominent noble houses in Demacia, the Buvelle family has only been in high standing and on the official counsel for a short time. They aren’t considered as old as, say, the Lightshields or Spiritmights, but they did come from one of the smaller countries that existed before Demacia became a singular nation. Though Demacia now has a more unified culture, different dialects still exist as a remnant of a different age; some passing for entirely different languages in their own right as Common has become the standard. The Buvelle family isn’t the last to know their specific language, though much of it has been reduced to terminologies or phrases; words that have been adapted to the Common language, or words that that stand on their own such as names of things (ex. certain foods, musical terminology, armor/weapon types, etc.)

In the time following the devastation of the Rune Wars, Demacia became especially wary of the countries beyond its borders. The kingdom became progressively more insular, and there was a gradual shift to becoming a fully self-sufficient nation of people. Citizens were encouraged to live within their means, and for a time this put the nation to work and gave greater balance between the social and financial classes. This also gradually discouraged trade with other countries (mostly with the poor, as it was a point of personal honor to provide for yourself rather than relying on others - or at least buy locally from your neighbor). In its way this created a new market; if people were only willing to invest in themselves and their Kingdom directly, then someone within the Kingdom had to provide.

Without regular trade, luxury or exotic items were extremely hard to come by. Not impossible, but certainly not something the everyman would have or even have seen. The first Buvelles changed this. Carmelo Buvelle is the first recorded barer of the name and had originally been a stonecarver before an accident that broke one of his legs left him unable to continue working on the large sculptures that the crown would commission him and the other artists he worked with. His sons could still provide for he and his wife, but Carmelo’s hands still worked and he couldn’t keep still for very long. He began carving miniatures of all sorts of things he’d seen during his time traveling as a teenager before coming home to settle down; small animals, little foreign houses, flowers, anything that could be committed to the stone he worked with. He would sometimes gift them to family and friends, and in turn their friends and family would see the pieces, which lead to him being approached for personal commissions. Suddenly Carmelo had work again, and he dove into it eagerly.

More rapidly than anyone had expected, the Buvelle family became known for various crafts; beyond stonecarving there were daughters who became favored weavers, sons who became skilled jewelers, mothers and fathers down the line who took on sculpture and tailoring and painting and finer and finer arts still. Most became teachers at some point in their lives, helping usher in a cultural revolution within the main city of Demacia. Much of Demacia’s impressive architecture and massive structures of marble owe themselves in some way to the Buvelle family’s influence, either directly or indirectly through students.

In about three generations’ time the Buvelle family had gone from lower-middle class to nobility. Because most of their work took place in forges or at direct worksites and workshops, the land they purchased within the city for the family mansion was much smaller by comparison to other noble houses - whose homes, lands, stables, and various other personally owned structures could span many acres. The only significant parts of the manse were the large garden and woodland area that stretched out behind it, and a spacious cellar for storing wines, cheeses, and other aged foodstuffs. The rest of the home had rooms dedicated purely for display of their family’s greatest personal works, or the work of students and associates.

Things weren’t perfect, of course. Older Demacian families, though too proud to even admit to having too much pride, didn’t exactly favor their new neighbors. The Buvelles wore fine clothes and did excellent work, but their mannerisms and formal education spoke of a more common lifestyle. They were highly gregarious and outspoken, hosting wild parties that were more like a good tavern romp than an elegant affair. Their women were fiercely independent and vivacious yet chaste before marriage - which gave plenty of would-be paramours who thought them loose town girls bitter reasons to call them whores behind their backs when they were spurned. Even if the Buvelles hadn’t done anything especially wrong in the eyes of the law (except perhaps drinking a bit too much wine some nights), socially they were unaccepted by their peers; even if those same people would happily commission them for their next portrait or furniture set.

The next few generations certainly felt the social ire of their neighbors and did their best to change that. Children born since then were given full and proper educations; they could read, write, do math and geometry, history and philosophy, and many began to practice other kinds of arts. Michela Buvelle in particular was considered a musical prodigy. She was said to sing, dance, and play various instruments with more fluency than most people could speak their mother language, but her true interest was musical theory and its relation to math. She wrote many, many books and general studies on the subject of musical structure, giving terminology to concepts and styles in her family’s dialect; things such as forte, allegrissimo, staccato, arpeggio, and so on. Her work was so prolific that her musical ‘formulas’ and terminology rapidly became the standard for anyone that studied music in Demacia, and even Piltover since she had moved there to study advanced mathematics. Records show she never returned to Demacia before her passing, but she had all of her personal diaries carted home to her family after she did.

While things were gradually improving for the Buvelles, with older members dying out and newer generations becoming more familiar and comfortable with each other over time. Old habits and feuds took longer to die, but soon there would be more pressing concerns; Demacia was at war with Noxus, and a draft had been initiated. All citizens were expected to serve time in the military at some point in their lives, though Demacia’s standing army itself is a highly disciplined force beyond its ‘temporary’ citizen soldiers. Noxus’s armies are generally far less trained, but they make up for it in sheer numbers and brutality. Many lives were lost during one clash or another, and soon even members of the nobility were asked to step forward and give their lives for their King and country. For many Houses this was something they could accommodate well enough; the Crownguards, Spiritmights, Vaynes, Laurents, and more all took pride in their sons and daughters who already had combat and arms training or who already served in the military. The Buvelle family, however, was a family of craftsmen, not knights. While one or two had found their way into the army, many chose to devote their time to study and craftsmanship instead. So when the draft hit House Buvelle, the result was devastating.

Because of their unfavorable standing for several generations, and perhaps ‘bad luck’ on the part of having too many daughters and not enough sons, many Buvelle women remained life-long singlewomen and old maids until their deaths while others would take a much lower social position just to marry - which also meant taking their husband’s name, relinquishing the title of Buvelle outright and in some cases purposefully never mentioning they were a Buvelle to anyone after marriage (for fear of social stigma at the time if the bride was looking to escape her family’s embarrassing shadow). All this meant that the remaining Buvelle family members at this point in history were small to begin with. When the draft hit it dwindled them down even further. Many died thanks to lack of training and experience, or the sheer brutality of the Noxian forces.

By the time the battles ended, the few remaining members were either married into other families (and no longer baring the name, or wishing association) or left lame due to injury. House Buvelle proper, at its final stages, was comprised of Lestara Buvelle and her father and mother. Her father, Sergio Buvelle, had been the only one to return from the war thanks to a grave injury to his lower extremities - one that left him unable to produce any further heirs. He died not long after that, suffering from severe depression, PTSD, and alcoholism to the point of self destruction. His wife, Nella, followed soon after. It had been said she was a very fragile woman, and Sergio had left such destruction in his wake for their family reputation that Nella’s heart just couldn’t take it.

Lestara remaining and grew to be an extremely formidable woman despite her otherwise lonely circumstance. Her entire family’s fortune was hers to use as she wished, and she took to collecting and traveling and studying whatever she could get her hands on. She indulged in every fantasy she could think of in the ways of the material, and took a special interest in rare artefacts of forgotten ages. Reading through Michela Buvelle’s old memoirs and private notes, she came upon a several page documentation of something referred to as an “etwahl”; a magical instrument said to have been constructed long, long ago. Possibly even before the Rune Wars of old. This instrument, when played, could stir the hearts of men in seemingly miraculous ways, pushing them beyond their normal, physical limits or bestowing such mental, physical, and spiritual calm that it could only be likened to enlightenment.

In a serendipitous turn of fate, Lestara was made aware of information on a strange instrument belonging to a young girl in some backwater Ionian orphanage. The document had stated that the instrument could only be properly wielded by the one it was bound to, so if she wanted the instrument then she would also have to adopt the girl - which she happily accepted, and in time grew to love as a daughter. Unfortunately, it made no mention that the Etwahl could also be used as a weapon of destruction; only less than three years after adopting Sona, bringing her home, teaching her all she could, taking her on tour, and Lestara was killed in an accident where the Etwahl reacted to Sona’s uncontrolled emotions.

The Buvelle family bloodline died with her, though Sona Buvelle now remains its sole adopted heir. By law she has inherited the Buvelle family fortune and estate and her place as Head of House Buvelle on the Demacian Council. But due to a number of factors (her disability, her previous ‘criminal’ reputation that the council is aware of, and a lingering dislike of the Buvelle family and Lestara in particular, being a foreigner, and her generally meek attitude when surrounded by such powerful authority figures) Sona doesn’t play a very active role during meetings, if she even attends at all. Of the people on the Council she is also the only non-native and most unfamiliar with the finer intricacies of the Measured Tread and the general law, nor does she have the will or means to play social politics. (She’s read the Measured Tread, of course, but retaining such a ‘boring’ read is another story.)

To the common or middle-class citizen, Sona is quite beloved for her grace, charity and kindness. Even a good number of the nobility see her at least somewhat favorably as a performer and many are die-hard fans of her music and ability to instill calm. But there are some who haven’t forgotten the Buvelles of the past, or who still hold personal grudges against Lestara in particular (she always spoke her mind, and was particularly outspoken about social equality between the sexes - which ruffled more than a few feathers). And with Sona being unable to speak freely in defense of herself, it’s difficult to sway people to her favor. Without directly manipulating them with her music, that is. And she refuses to do so.

And while the cause of Lestara Buvelle’s death isn’t general public knowledge, previous maids did witness her body and Sona beside her, cradling her and crying with the Etwahl close and bloody. There are plenty of wild rumors about it that most people choose to ignore because “she’s such a nice, quiet girl!”. With her more recent self-defense killing that opinion may begin to change...

[joneswilliam72]

Us Review: What happens when our shadows run free? And what the hell is with the rabbits?

WARNING TO THE READER:

I have done my best to keep spoilers out of this review. It would – however – be impossible to affect my interpretation of Us without a few of them. That said, I thank you for reading The 405 Film section (as always), but I would most recommend reading this review AFTER you see Us, if you're planning to – which you really should be. The film is really best approached cold and meditated on after viewing.

If you're fine with that warning, read on.

Are humans ever born evil? Or are they made evil?

The nature versus nurture debate has long raged in science, philosophy and art. Indeed, thinking on the question has also forged central areas of thought in early psychology – which seemed to take the stance that evil and good are partitioned in the human psyche into what becomes one's personality.

That great but flawed early psychologist Sigmund Freud called the dark part of the human psyche "the id." The id in his psychoanalytic theory of personality operates on purely instinctual drives, and seeks to satisfy these base, primitive needs as quickly as possible because it operates on the Pleasure Principle which seeks to maximize pleasure and avoid pain whenever possible.

In Freudian theory, the id is balanced out by the seat of morality and inhibitory (and thus very controlling) "superego" and "the ego" which seeks to moderate the drives of the id and the often controlling nature of the superego. The ego is essentially caught in the middle of the two. It is the conscious part of the personality under Freud's model (although not all parts of the ego are conscious).

Swiss psychiatrist (and former friend and collaborator of Freud's) Carl Jung took a different approach to the central question here. He conceived of our dark side as "the Shadow" – which, like the id, is totally separate from our conscious personality (what he also called "the ego" with other parts – which Jung conceived of as archetypes or innate tendencies that mold and transform the individual consciousness – like "the Persona").

The Shadow is composed of instinctual drives but also whatever we may consciously deem unacceptable – drives like power, lust, domination, greed, envy, wrath... murder. All these things get pushed into the Shadow. As Jungian analyst Aniela Jaffe said, the shadow essentially is the "sum of all personal and collective psychic elements which, because of their incompatibility with the chosen conscious attitude, are denied expression in life".

It is thus interesting – and immediately piqued my attention as a longtime student of Jung's writings – that Jordan Peele as the writer of Us decided to use the term "shadow" to describe the doppelgängers of the family in the film: dad, Gabe Wilson (shadow named Abraham) – played by Winston Duke; mom, Adelaide Wilson (shadow named Red) – a tour de force performance from Lupita Nyong'o – we ultimately get our understanding of what's happening principally from Adelaide and Red; daughter Zora Wilson (shadow named Umbrae) – played by Shahadi Wright Joseph; son, Jason Wilson (shadow named Pluto) – played by Evan Alex.

So, in essence what is happening in Us, is (at first) a home invasion thriller with the shadows as invaders (and all that means symbolically). It is here that we see some of what we can presume were cinematic influences here too: Michael Haneke's Funny Games immediately came to mind, as did (paradoxically) 2008's The Strangers. But that is – of course – far from the totality of Us.

Peele's deft hand as director is really evident throughout, even when the home invasion part of the film is ostensibly over. He effortlessly and perfectly guides the film over a razor's edge of tension. One can only speculate that he learned the art of perfect timing in the comedy he's done. As Jonathan Kite (another creative with experience in both genres) told me in our interview (which you can read here):

"In general, I think that comedy always serves horror. I think that they're extreme emotions being ... Getting yourself to laugh is a natural reaction and being scared and jumping is a natural reaction. And, they're both, they're both shared experiences. Which is why, I think, comedies and horrors do so well in large groups because you scare one, you're probably gonna scare everyone in the theater. Or you get one person to laugh, a lot of people are probably gonna laugh."

Which is another interesting part of Us: there is a good amount of effective (and overt) comedy here. It very effectively balances out the tension throughout. It is also for this reason that people who don't do well with horror should not be dissuaded from catching Us in the theater: Peele knows almost intuitively when the audience needs a break in a moment of levity.

Of course, the film does evolve from the point of the home invasion. Which gets to the social statement inherent in Us – and, indeed, the USA's zeitgeist right now – what would happen if all our shadows were running around in bodies that look exactly like ours but are paradoxically untethered from ourselves? With Donald Trump in the White House despite scandal after scandal and him showing some of the worse penchants of humanity (even with the summary of the Mueller Report finally being out and saying that the Report “did not establish" Russian collusion) – and the President's penchants for the horrible not phasing many of his supporters – the premise of Us fits the times we are living in like the gloves the red jumpsuit-clad shadows all wear.

But there is still more fertile psychological fodder at play in Us. What happens when we use violence to combat the evil, violent and base? Circumstances – nurture – paradoxically can make us more like what we're fighting when we do that. We too can be debased.

This nature versus nurture theme becomes ever more prevalent as we progress through the film and towards the ultimate twist which evokes yet another great film that revolves around the idea of the doppelgänger or double: Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo. The variable of madness as a central force affecting the behavior of the shadows is also thrown in.

Beautifully cerebral social horror is what Us ultimately is. It probes the psychology of the individual and abstracts that to the social in a very eloquent – and highly entertaining – way. Some reviewers – however – felt a little intimidated by those cerebral qualities.

For instance, many were fussing over the meaning of the rabbits in Us. I think the symbolism here is pretty straightforward though: first, when Red tells her fairy tale during the home invasion part, she speaks of having to eat raw, white rabbit as Adelaide would eat food. This suggests the idea of the white rabbit being equal to a white lamb or white dove in symbolism – innocence, moral purity, goodness. The shadow by definition thrives on the evil or that which destroys the innocent, morally pure and good.

Second, rabbits are also often the prototypical animal for visual similarity among individuals in a species of animal in nature. This gets to the scientific side of the doppelgänger and its possibilities in nature. To quote my original article looking at the science and history behind the doppelgänger before Us came out (read it here):

"Science has proffered a number of explanations for the doppelgänger phenomenon. The evolutionary one  basically says that because you don't see much of the diversity between how individuals look in other species, it really isn't surprising to think there's someone who looks exactly like you somewhere. For instance, can you really tell two squirrels [substitute rabbits] apart? Thus goes this explanation that maybe we are to some degree, just seeing what we want to see there, and that diversity does not really exist – at least, not to the level we believe. Ergo, there could be someone out there who looks exactly like you. The possibility of the genetic lottery randomly combining the same options a number of times also adds credence to this idea.

Still, other studies have pegged the likelihood of an exact doppelgänger as about 1 in 1 trillion. And even if there was a higher likelihood, this explanation really doesn't say anything about the malevolence that is so often ascribed to the doppelgänger."

In summation: go see Us. There are less than a handful of films that evoke all these questions in such an incredible, entertaining and moving way. Us is insanely cerebral, superbly-conducted psychological and social horror that – in my view – eclipses the also superb Get Out.

That $70.3 million opening – the third-biggest horror opening of all time (behind It and the newest iteration of Halloween) – is only the start to a film that has the aesthetic and cultural potential to go much further.

Cheers to that. Cheers to seeing what else Peele has in store for us too.

from The 405 https://ift.tt/2HTObZN