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jflashandclash · 4 months

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Tales From Mount Othrys

Axel II: Into the Lion’s Maw

The masks’ thrum was alluring. Something brushed his knuckles—the edges of another pew? Axel startled, gripping the wood. When had he started walking forward? There was nothing between him and the altar now—no other pew to warn him that his legs had elected to go for the shiny, dangerous object before his brain agreed.

Pax was as cautious as he was capable. “The Triple A Chimera helmets!” he squeaked and scrambled ahead of Axel.

“Ajax!” Axel growled, but knew he couldn’t stop him. Pax was right beside the altar, and Axel didn’t trust his legs to cooperate.

Alabaster sighed. “Ajax, we’re not calling it that.”

“Witch Boy, you might not be, but the rest of the world is in agreement.” Pax cracked his knuckles and reached for the bronze serpent helm. If he was willing to drink mysterious, glowing vials for Alabaster, he would definitely pick up a haunted artifact that screamed, “hex me, please.”

Alabaster grinned darkly. “Mercedes has been fueling more of the Romans’ own rumors, the ones about a beast that can morph in and out of the Mist. Why not—”

“Hello, little Spy Master,” the voice was soft, harsh, and slithered from the helm in Pax’s fingers.

The helmet clanged onto the altar. Pax jumped backwards. “Cool creepy stuff!” he yelped.

Axel ground his nails deeper into the pew. “They talk?” He already had to worry about Jack and Matthias’ influence on Pax. Pax didn’t need more bad influences.

Alabaster nodded. “They each have their own unique sense of humor.”

Sense of humor? What could that mean from Alabaster of all people?

Pax paled, still staring at the bronze one in confusion. “Why’d it call me the Spy Master? I’m just an irresistibly adorable spy assistant.”

Hecate settled a calming hand on Pax’s shoulder. This time, her smile was sad. “These helms reveal potential futures if you chose to align with them.”

“Maybe you take over spying on the Greeks when Silena Beauregard finally betray us.” Alabaster rolled his eyes at his age-old complaint.

Pax brightened, “You mean, I could be Mercedes’ irresistibly—”

“Irritatingly—”

“—adorable partner? Not just her assistant?” The prospect thrilled Pax. Axel knew how desperate Pax was to impress Mercedes. Despite that, Pax glanced over at Axel. The Free Possessions Here vibe had spooked him, and he wanted to make sure it was safe.

Axel swallowed, willing his legs into a casual approach. The closer he came, the more he could make out the detail of the beautiful plumage, the worse the urge to touch that gorgeous gold. His fingers twitched back to the cigarette in his pocket. Otherwise, he’d grab the helm. “Kinda flashy for you, no subtle amulets?” his voice came out rougher than he wanted.

Alabaster rubbed the edge of the antler between his forefinger and thumb. “I believe you gave me lectures on the value of utilizing fear in battle, and then proved it during our fight for my lab. These forms will enhance that…” His hand shook. He was awaiting an answer for a question Pax hadn’t realized he’d asked. But Axel knew the gravity of this conversation. And with this topic of conversation, Axel worried how demigods, supposedly, could spy on others in their sleep.

If Axel hadn’t come to know Alabaster so well, he might not have noticed how unconfident the Witch Boy felt. He was paler than usual—worried. His voice was soft as he continued, “Daedalus won’t make Kronos a body. I’ve researched his myth and history. He worked under threat for too long. Kronos only needs one more soul before he reforms.” Alabaster glanced up at Axel. “Castellan’s getting desperate. Even more short tempered than usual. And paranoid. He turned away Kelly. He sent out souls into the labyrinth that aren’t coming back—”

The three of them winced. None had heard from Chris Rodriguez. Pax liked to pretend he was okay.

Alabaster’s expression hardened. His knuckles turned white on the edge of his helm. “He hit Mercedes.”

Pax froze. “He what?”

Axel clenched his jaw. Mercedes hadn’t given Luke a name for their leak yet. She couldn’t find that Di Angelo child that Luke so fanatically wanted. He went from saying they didn’t need a Spy Master to using her supposed incompetency as a scapegoat to Kronos.

“Yesterday. When I told you Mercedes wanted you in the laboratory…” Alabaster trailed off. Something uncharacteristic of him. He was usually so calculated with his words. “Both of you are…” He hesitated and glanced at his mother.

Hecate nodded at him in encouragement.

Pax clutched his stomach, like he was ready to use the new helmet as a barf bag.[1] Axel understood the nausea. Mercedes was the first person to show them kindness on the Princess Andromeda.

Alabaster closed his eyes to collect himself. He squeezed the horn of the boned helm once more before his gaze shifted back to Axel. “You’re not pledged to Kronos. You can’t. Both of you have befriended those in power: Castellan’s Scourge of New Rome, his Quiet Death. The Bearer of Flames owes Axel his freedom—” Axel felt dizzy as Alabaster listed their monikers: Jack, Flynn, Prometheus.

“You can just call them their names,” Pax said weakly. “Or give them more accurate names. He Who Wears Pink Pajamas.”

Alabaster glanced to Pax, betraying the slightest of smiles over the joke at Jack’s sleepwear. “Ajax, you’ve become Mercedes’ prized spy for New Rome. Even your silly band has marked the two of you as a minor celebrity with the monsters. And—and both of you have wormed yourselves into the good graces of the children of Hecate.”

Pax feigned some bravado, leaned towards Axel, and whispered loudly, “I think Alabaster just admitted to liking us.” He straightened and looked at Alabaster. “Alabaster, you could have just said you thought we were cool. Remember how we talked about needing to sound less like a super villain about to assassinate someone?”

Alabaster’s lip twitched.

Pax balked. “Are you a super villain about to assassinate someone?”

Alabaster and Axel exchanged a glance.

That was exactly what they were talking about.

If possible, Pax’s eyes widened further. “Axeeeellll,” he whined in a tattle. “Alabaster is talking about assassinating someone!”

Alabaster sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s Kronos, Ajax. Must I spell it out for you and any hostile gods that might be eavesdropping?”

“Nah, I’m illiterate.” Pax waved a hand. “It would only help the gods.” Axel could tell how desperately his brother wanted to look aloof about the situation.

Alabaster straightened to his full height. One hand lifted a vial out of his pocket. “I can’t do this alone. I need people I trust.”

“And if we refuse?” Axel asked, eyes trained on the vial. Something about this felt wrong. But, when was the last time things felt right? Despite everything, he could picture Luke’s easy smile, the way he coaxed Jack back after Calypso captured him.

And the look of hunger on his face when he wanted to interrogate Annabeth one-on-one.

Alabaster’s expression crumbled. “I have the River Lethe water on hand. You’ll never know you were asked. And, I will be down two friends.”

Tension curled the Mist into menacing figures in their peripheral. Hecate, Axel suddenly realized, had faded into the fog around them.

Alabaster and Axel stared at each other. It felt like they were on opposite sides of disk that was balanced on a ball. One wrong move, both would topple. Was Alabaster trying to trick Axel into admitting treachery? Or was he reaching out to commit it with him? This felt like a trap, but Alabaster had never gotten along with Luke. But, what if Luke could still be brought back?

Pax glanced from his brother to his friend. He raised his hands in an unarmed gesture. “Guys, I know you’re both paranoid, but, like, we can all agree that Luke is a dick. He—” Pax quieted. He took a shuffled step closer to Alabaster. Tactically, Alabaster shouldn’t let Pax get that close until he had an answer. “He has been. H—he hit you… when we first got here.” The end of the sentence disappeared into a mumble. Pax slipped his fingers along Alabaster’s.

Alabaster startled. His face rouged, but he didn’t withdraw. “You hadn’t even officially joined and you were already spying for Mercedes.”

“Only unwittingly.” Pax’s smile was shy, impish. He pressed Alabaster’s hand, and vial, back into Alabaster’s pocket.

Something about the interaction rang Axel’s Older Brother Alarm Bells. (And, besides, did Pax have a crush on Mercedes…?) But there was too much to process to consider it now. “And if Luke can be separated from Kronos?” Axel asked.

Alabaster shrugged. “This will give us the tools to free him, whether through aid or death. We need him to win the war, but afterwards…”

“I don’t want to kill Luke,” Pax said, “That would make Jack very sad. And he might resurrect him. And that could start the zombie virus—Ala, do you think we could make the zombie virus in Camp Half-Blood and New Rome and win that way?”

“Well, we—” Alabaster raised an eyebrow at him. “Super powered zombies?”

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them. “Oh. I see your point. Bad idea.”

Pax and Alabaster’s hands hadn’t come out of Alabaster’s pocket. Later, Axel decided.

Right now, the helm thrummed in his ears. There were no coherent words, just dissonance—a presence felt by way of an increasing pressure around his skull. Did the others hear it? Did they feel it? Did theirs call to them so intensely?

The eye sockets seemed to have eyes of their own, pits of blackness. Axel thought, for a stuttered heartbeat, that an iris shifted. Reflections off metal, he assured himself. Though he knew better. Maybe others could be tricked by the Mist. He could see through it. Something was inside the helmet. Something wanted out.

“These grant us power,” Axel summarized. Placing a hand beside the helm made the cacophony inside his head near unbearable.

No wonder Alabaster asked them to meet in his mother’s realm. Having these in the laboratory felt dangerous. Too much for demigods. Axel had to wonder if Alabaster was just a mouthpiece? Maybe Hecate was doing what she was rumored to do: give another option. A tertiary option to Kronos or the Olympians.

Axel searched the surreal jungle. She had to still be here. This was, presumably, her temple, and these were her godly gifts. Even with his true sight, all he could spot was wisps of her presence in the fog: the wave of some hair, the echo of a finger, the curve of fabric along her side, none in the same spot. An unsettling notion made Axel draw his shoulders back. She was the Mist itself. Millennia of entangling with its essence had left her nearly indistinguishable.

“Hecate?” he called, “What is the catch? What are we trading?”

She resolidified across the altar from Axel. “While you wear these, the past will become nothing more than just a dream, so that you may regain the ability to dream.” She lifted the feline helm to examine it. As she did, the air electrified. He felt something swishing behind him in tempestuous flicks—a tail? He didn’t look. She was trying to distract him.

“These will harness your anger, your pain, your doubts, and your fear. They manifest it and they become it, so that you may hold it separately from your own identities. So you may don it and meld with it when it is most fitting.” Her emerald gaze lifted to Axel’s. “You are trading a piece of yourself, pieces that will become my little monsters, my children. You are trading control. You will no longer have unwanted intrusions, but they will become the intrusion when you don them. I’m powerless to change your fates…” She looked to each of them in turn. Her son. Pax. Axel. “But in the end, I’ll shelter you. After all, you are my child’s cherished friends.”

Alabaster went red.

Breaking her somber speech, Pax nudged Alabaster. “Your mom knows she doesn’t need to pay us to hang out with you, right?”

Alabaster shot Pax a glare.

Axel tried to picture what that would mean, to be able to dream again without screaming, to know internal peace. He clenched his jaw. This felt like a cheat. It felt like—

“They will fail one day,” she said, as though reading his thoughts. “You’ll need to face your fears. But, not during this war. The delay will make it traumatic, especially for you, Jaguar Child. Melding with this will cause you pain.”[2]

Axel swallowed. Hesitantly, he reached out. The cacophony intensified, screaming until—

“Hello, Lieutenant of Kronos.”

Everything siphoned into that voice. Tension eased out of Axel’s shoulders. Distractions faded. He meant to just brush the cool metal with the back of one knuckle, but it was cradled in his hands. Its weight felt right, comforting. The plumes were soft as they curled around his forearm, around the blades he kept strapped there.

Lieutenant? Axel mused, Like Atlas? A smile curled along his lips. The Leader of Assault and Battery? Or the Sabotage Unit?

Touching the feline etching made Axel feel lighter. The calm was intoxicating. Some people went to his father to fuel their opioid addictions. He wondered if this kind of relief was similar.

“Do you two need a room? Or, well, a tree to hide behind?” Pax asked. He tried to sound light.

Axel startled, glancing up at his brother. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It must have been more than a few moments, as it had felt for Axel. Pax fidgeted with a satchel of something Alabaster must have given him to occupy his free hand. The one not in the Witch Boy’s pocket. Alabaster was examining Axel, expressionless. Axel ignored Pax, instead, giving Alabaster a crooked smile. “You’re not tricking me into taking a magical sleep med by throwing a rebellion, are you?”

Alabaster shrugged. “Is it working?”

It was, but Axel didn’t want to admit that. The thought of falling asleep with this calm, all in the name of stopping a tyrant? Instead, he pointed out, “If these are going to alter how we fight and think through combat, we’ll have to test them in a controlled environment first.”

Pax bounced on the heels of his feet. Alabaster merely nodded; he already would have planned for that.

Axel’s fingers shook around the helm at the thought of putting it down. “Kronos will be suspicious if Luke tells him we have got specialized magic armor, if Kronos doesn’t just pull the memory out of his head.”

“A memorandum for surviving the Roman’s raid on my laboratory,” Alabaster explained away.

Pax rolled his eyes. Axel had to agree: Alabaster wasn’t known for being sentimental. That was an unlikely story.

Axel considered other protests or objections. But, as he did, he realized there was no way he could put this helm down without trying it on. His gaze dropped down to the flicker of movement behind those blackened eye sockets.

We have work to do, Lieutenant, the mask reminded him, as though they were already one.

This wasn’t like signing up to fight Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. That hadn’t been a choice. Luke’s men were going to kill both of them if he hadn’t signed up. But this? Alabaster was treating Axel as an equal. He was giving him the tools to fight an encroaching evil, something that was devouring his other friend.

“I’m in,” he said.

A dark laugh echoed from the helm, something that felt strangely comforting.

Axel looked up to find Alabaster smiling. The Witch Boy turned to Pax. “Ajax?” he asked.

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them. Everyone always assumed he would follow Axel’s lead in every decision. Axel appreciated that Alabaster wanted the three of them equally committed.

Pax hesitated. He set the satchel in Alabaster’s pocket. Timidly, he reached for the serpentine helmet. This time, he didn’t drop it, cradling it like Axel held his. He gave Alabaster and Axel a goofy grin. “Triple A Chimera assemble! Do we get a secret handshake?!”

“No,” Alabaster said. After Pax pouted at him, his stern expression cracked, “But, the helmets do come with weasel kittens, now that you’ve accepted them.”

Alabaster was excellent at delivering deadpan humor; that hadn’t sounded like a joke. Before Axel could ask him to repeat himself, he heard the soft trilling sound from the plumes.

“No…” Axel mumbled in disbelief.

There, emerging from the thick feathers, was a tiny set of squinting, beady eyes. The whole critter was miniscule, certainly smaller than Axel’s palm. Lifting its head appeared to be too much for it, the snout bobbing around uncertainly as it sniffed. A pang hit Axel’s chest. He held the helm more delicately. This was even more fragile than his pet jaguar cub, Juana, had been.

Pax squealed with delight. “It’s a weasel! It’s a baby weasel! You got us baby weasels!?” He hopped around the altar with the helmet. It made Axel want to frantically rush over to assure no tiny weasels fell out.

Alabaster plucked a pure white one out of the ivory on his skull helm. He slipped the weasel into a breast pocket on his shirt. Alabaster often had various compartments on him for spell ingredients, but—

“And you got yourself an incubator shirt?!” Pax yelped with glee. He had separated his weasel from his helmet, set the helmet on the altar, and was cradling his weasel in both hands.

Leave it to Pax to ignore the All Powerful Magical Armor.

“Kits or pups,” Alabaster corrected. “They don’t need incubators, but they will need to be fed, socialized with each other, taught to hunt, and—”

Alabaster cut off when Pax went on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His complexion had just settled back into that of a vampire. He went bright red again, cleared his throat, took a step back, and pointedly avoided looking at Axel.

That “later” talk that Axel and Alabaster needed to have? It was going to happen as soon as the three of them were awake.

“And named,” Alabaster tried to make it sound like there hadn’t been a pause. “Th—they’re more than pets.” He swallowed, regaining composure. “Each is an extension of your helm’s power, playing to the strength of the owner. Nietzsche can store spell runes, acting as both a roving set of prepared spells and a conduit to set magic off at a greater distance.” The tiny white head poked out of Alabster’s pocket, slitted red eyes trained on the Pax brothers.

Axel extended a finger towards his tiny charge. When the weasel sensed him, it curled about his index finger, nipping vainly. Axel had to admit, he liked her. She had spunk.

“Who gets Honey and who gets Baller?” Pax bobbed to Axel’s side.

Axel’s tiny charge clung to his finger while nodding off to sleep. “Honey and--?” he asked.

“Hunahpu and Xbalanque! Duh!” Pax cheered.

Alabaster looked relieved at the shift in conversation. “Maya names?” he asked.

Axel nodded. “The hero twins.” The names of sorcerer warriors felt fitting for gifts from Hecate. Though, Axel doubted these two weasels could feign dismemberment, the way the ancient warriors and Hecate’s children could. Well, maybe Pax’s could. That would fit Pax’s style of combat.

Pax pointed to a clustered spot of fur on the back of Axel’s. “Yours has little rosettes.”

Axel nodded. “Mine shall be Hunnapuh then.”

Pax held his up, Lion King-style. “And this shall be Baller!”[3] he proclaimed with bravado.

The three boys got to enjoy something they rarely did these days: a peaceful moment in a safe place with no one watching but a caring mother. Pax demanded they put their weasels into a kit pile in his hands. Axel surveyed this carefully, but was relieved Pax seemed to have a natural knack for tending to the little ones.

Despite discovering the existence of Greek gods, being “adopted” by someone a few years older than he was, and being cast as the heartthrob in a monster-centric metal band, these gifts were some of the biggest surprises Axel had in the past two years. Alabaster had always been uncomfortable with shows of affection. Some people got each other burgers and French fries as signs of friendship. Others gave each other weapons of war.

All of them were smiling when the jungle shook. The quake’s ripple was so strong, Pax pitched onto one side. He cradled the weasel kits protectively to his chest with one hand while smacking the forest ground with the other floor to break his fall. Axel stumbled. Alabaster snagged the edges of the altar. “Mother--?” he called.

“Mount Tams,” she said from the fog of mist, “is under attack.”

***

Thank all of you for reading! Also, thank you to those of you that left comments in my last post. I promise, I’ll be responding as soon as I can. You rock and have made it worth while to get myself to post again! In the meantime, know you have Jack in an appreciative pile of moosh and gratitude! Stay tuned for, hopefully (>>’’) every other week updates!

***

[2] Pax, “Way to hit his kink, Hecate.”

[3] I recently read up that the hero twins were pronounced, “WAH-nuh-pwuh and shi-BAY-lan-kay.” But I think younger Axel would have been too insecure to call his lil one “Pooh,” so we’re sticking with the mispronunciated, butchering of Honey and Baller.

#percy jackson and the olympians #PJO #the heroes of olympus #HOO #Tales From Mount Othrys #TFMO #alabaster c torrington #Hecate #Pax #Axel #WEASELS #FINALLY WE GET SOME MF WEASELS

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withoutywt · 3 years

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hello tumblr! 16 year old me wanted the serotonin everyone got in middle school from reading percy jackson that i didnt and one HUGE reading block later i finally just finished mark of athena at the ripe age of 18. here are my twisted thoughts:

MARK OF ATHENA THOUGHTS:

-do you think that as nice as jason and percy are to each other, jason holds some resentment towards percy? resentment that percy got his memories back, that percy has memories with his gf and an origin story, that they work so naturally well together?

-percy is the only one with a mom that isnt dead or a god/goddess

-almost all of them except for annabeth and piper have their godly parent as a father

-ANNABETH WOULD VISIT SALLY EVERY WEEK AND THEY’D CRY ABOUT PERCY

-annabeth. threw her fucking dagger in the fucking ocean knowing her water ass bf would find it and immediately bring it back to her

-narcissus said leo would always be a seventh wheel and he quite literally is (hazel and frank, jason and piper, percy and annabeth)

-frank. being like hey annabeth please teach me how to use the chinese finger trap

-frank and leo having a bonding moment while kidnapped by mer/ocean creatures

-THE FLASHBACK WITH LEO AND HAZEL AND SAMMY VALDEZ

-oh my god. the fucking spider shit was so mf genius THE CHINESE FINGER TRAP

-update: hows girlie gonna survive tartarus with a broken ankle

-leo be like heres my character arc!

-i love frank and leos blossoming bromance

-i love percy and jasons bromance thats paused because mf percys IN TARTARUS.

-leos so smart i love him your honor

-hazel and leo: they could potentially be besties your honor!

-we got a jason and piper kiss!!!!!! we got em boys!!!!!!

-really thought they were about to be that middle school couple that says they’re dating but wont go past hand holding

-percabeth bickering: put that shit in a bottle so i can get drunk off of it

-annabeth really said im going to gaslight gatekeep girlboss my way to this mf statue

-NICO????? MY POOR GAY SON??????

-hades do be like heres my 13 year old son harbouring a secret that can start a mf war

-hazel leo and frank my favorite trio

-“leo world” shut the fuck up i love him

-percy being like yeah i just killed two giants with my bro and now i have to save my gf

-the way leo joked about frank turning into a weasel. and then they made him turn into a mf weasel

-jason and percy with the deadpan humor. i love this bromance

-brb gonna start headcanoning leo valdez as

bisexual

-that ending. im ruined your honor

-leo valdez my beloved. thats all and good night

-he carried this mf book you cant tell me otherwise!!!!!!

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daesungfmd · 3 years

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30 days of character development : 1 - 6. headcanon / wc: 1322

day one / introduce your muse. hwang daesung is the lead vocalist & rapper of impulse; a 7-member boy group that debuted on january 16th, 2014. despite being labeled as a rapper, there’s only one song that daesung has significant rap lines in: king, which is a duet between himself and one of impulse’s other rappers. on a similar note, daesung is not officially part of the dance line, but gets (arguably) more than his fair share of center time. so, what does this mean for daesung? it means that he’s an idol who believes he could 100% be seen as a triple threat if gold star would promote him as such, but instead, he’s pushed for his voice and has to read comments saying��“why’s he a rapper if he never even raps?” and “why’s the lead vocal in the center?” on the daily. </3

day two / talk about your muse’s childhood and when they decided they wanted to be an idol. daesung was born and raised in seoul, but to be more exact, it was in the neighborhood of samcheong. it’s a lovely place (as daesung himself will claim), but his childhood hardly reflected the color of his hometown. he initially had both parents, but after losing his father in 2008, he and his mother were left on their own. the loss greatly affected both daesung & his mother; ignoring the emotional impact, their financial situation was on a fast decline. you could argue that they couldn’t even afford for daesung to have big dreams ― that’s certainly what his mother tried to tell him, but he was a stubborn kid. the only “dream job” he ever had was becoming a rockstar, which is a dream that he never fully let go of. he stressed his mom out a lot during these years because instead of studying hard and aiming to go to a good university/get a good job, he spent most of his “study time” playing his guitar and/or trying to weasel his way into divebar shows. he ultimately became an idol trainee at age fifteen, but it wasn’t because he suddenly decided that he wanted to be an idol instead; he just didn’t realize what he was auditioning for, and who the hell was he to say “oops, nevermind” when he had a reality check? up until he debuted, he didn’t have any interest in being an idol. seven years in, he still doesn’t. he’s a rockstar in his heart and that’s what matters!!!

day three / talk about your muse’s audition. part of daesung’s ~charm~ is that he’s blindly optimistic. he has a lot of faith in himself, his talent & his abilities. by the time that he auditioned for gold star, he was more confident and hopeful than ever because he had already gone through hundreds of other companies and he’s the type to think that after lots of failure, you’re bound to succeed. in retrospect, perhaps the reason why so many companies turned him down was because they were looking for idols and he was a boy so clearly inspired by grunge and rock ‘n’ roll. regardless, by the time he reached gold star he had gone through enough auditions to realize what companies wanted to see in their auditionees, even had a dance memorized as well as he could with his lack of actual training in case they asked to see it. looking back on it, he wouldn’t give any advice to his former self except to do more research into what the auditions were for. he’s happy enough with where he’s at in life, but becoming an idol was never the end goal; he just went with the flow because he didn’t want to face pressure to do well in school. (ofc he realized that idols face pressure way worse than that every day but </3 mf realized too late)

day four / talk about your muse’s trainee years. daesung trained for eight months before being selected for who’s next?: origin story, having joined gold star in april of 2012. now... eight months is a decent enough amount of time, but keep in mind that he had no prior experience in idol music, nor did he even know much about idols; to put it simply, he felt (and was) underprepared. still, he figured that he wouldn’t be put in a team and thrown onto a survival show if the company didn’t have some kind of faith in him, so the show also made him more confident (even though his team lost)!!! he had another 10-ish months of training after the show ended, so if you ignore the three-month period of the survival show, he had a collective 18 months / 1 year and 6 months as a trainee. as for his training experience........ it was tough for daesung. he wasn’t as serious about becoming an idol as most of the other trainees were considering it wasn’t his “dream”, so he was more concerned about just making the experience fun and making friends than improving quickly (or even following the rules). he got scolded a lot, even at times when he hadn’t actually done anything to be scolded for because of course it was easy to assume that daesung was the culprit if something went wrong. a lot of other trainees at the time didn’t like his lack of professionalism/lack of care or the fact that he didn’t even really want to be an idol and was still taking up space. he struggled to make friends even with his grand efforts, so he felt really, really lonely more often than not. started to struggle with body image and general insecurities during this time as well which i won’t go into detail about here because that’s ~a story for another time~ but overall....... training was the loneliest part of this mf’s life. he tried to have fun and every now and then he did, but he really just wanted to go home most of the time.

day five / recall your muse’s debut. girls, girls, girls is the bane of daesung’s existence. even though he didn’t really want to be an idol, by the time he finally got the news that he was going to debut, he was excited!!! he hates routine, so at least he would be escaping the repetitive days, right? right? no. his excitement dulled once he listened to the demo for their debut song and disappeared completely when he tried to express his displeasure but was ignored. at the time, he was seventeen and i think we all know that 17 years olds have fragile egos. everything about girls x3 embarrassed him: the lyrics, the outfits, the choreography, the mv intro, the mv setting, the promotions. the first time he performed on stage ~should have~ been exciting, but daesung just wanted to hide. granted.... seven years have passed and he’s begrudgingly fond of girls x3 now. he won’t admit it, but he listens to it when he’s going through breakups and/or rejections for an extra little boost of confidence. but it’s humiliating if anyone else brings it up.

day six / talk about your muse in relation to concepts. daesung pulls off fun and/or high-energy concepts the best. his stage presence is a fickle thing — even this far into his career, he struggles to not look bored when performing mellow songs (or songs that he just doesn’t vibe with), but he shines when he’s having a good time. he has fun performing upbeat songs and it shows. to date, he’s gotten the best feedback during the eras of just right, lullaby & look, but has also gotten decent feedback during ~manly~ concepts like if you do and you calling my name. his ideal concept would have to be something dark, like mars’ older concepts, but he’s 99.9% sure that impulse will never go in that direction. something that doesn’t feel so out of reach but he knows he could pull off would be something like alien’s jealousy or charm’s clap — masculine like if you do and ycmn, but high-energy like look and lullaby. any time impulse has done songs that combine those aspects, it’s resulted in a huge headache because of unnecessary beat drops </3 please gold star let him have one (1) concept like this that doesn’t hurt to listen to, he’s begging </3

#𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆. headcanon.#i could ramble abt daesung forever probably

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csmean · 2 years

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Also same anon who submitted the imgur album of Pennywise dekudog And its not even the one I like goddamn at least get some taste firsr. Feel free to just post this separately but its kind of sad I was really into Peluchies initially when it first opened and was super excited to make my MYOs and everything and then Ichoriel and BastardWiki these mid-20s "sysmed" unironic sayers (+ more unlisted people as they said more mfs helped them with the Kirin callout LOL) come along, singlehandedly bring the killing blow to this species in terms of Seishin owning it, weasel their way back into the community, and are still allowed in under the new owners ownership seriously killed my love for it.

I'm only still in the new server for updates + checks + approval and when I finally make all my MYOs I'm probably just gonna gtfo and not interact with the community at large or something. Seeing those two mfs in there with a good-looking rep and getting away with acting all like "We just wannted to help since we love this community!!!" You clearly did not wanna "help" but OK... Wondering when that one anon from closedspeciesteahouse is gonna drop the apparently existing receipts of these two doing this to species before when they didnt 100% get every little thing they wanted even when theyre in the wrong LMAO.

😔

#peluchies

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enchanted-flowers · 6 years

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Stay With Me

Pairing: MF Sans (BD) x Reader

Rating: T

Tags: Fluff, Christmas

Word Count: 762

Second Place prize for @ssskeletonsoffun who requested:

B.D. slowly cracks open his eye sockets, sighing as he noticed the light flashing on his phone. You’re snuggled up against him though, wrapping your arms around his large body and snoring softly in deep slumber. B.D. reaches over to his nightstand and grabs his phone, opening his messages, and finding one of from his brother, Scar.

Come in. We need you to interrogate the weasel.

The mobster groans quietly, careful to not wake you up, and pull you in closer to his chest, kissing you on your soft head before pushing you out of the way and climbing out of bed. You whimper and sleepily reach for his hand, your face still buried in the pillows.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“I just gotta take care of some business, sweetheart, I’ll be back soon,” he lifts up your hand to his mouth and kisses it.

“Noooooooo,” you whine, now opening your sparkling eyes and looking at him sadly, “It’s Christmas, can’t you take a day off? Just today. Please.”

“Sweetheart,” B.D. frowns, scratching the back of his head, “It’s Boss, you know if I don’t go, I’ll be getting an earful later.”

You whimper, your eyes tearing up, and breaking his heart. But he’s doing this for you, so you can live comfortably and without worrying about money or anything like that. He wants to take care of you, even it means leaving your side for just a little bit.

“Okay…” you finally agree, “But at least stay with me until I fall back asleep. It’s so cold.”

B.D. glances at the frosted window, the snowflakes fluttering and swirling in the wind, suspended in the grey skies. It is quite cold, and you only have one blanket to keep you warm. He knows that that’s not enough, so it’s only logical that he warms his mate, otherwise, they’ll get cold right? Right. B.D. nods and crawls back into bed, promising you that he’ll stay until you’re asleep again. You smile, a glint gleaming in your eyes then nuzzle your face in his chest. B.D. absentmindedly strokes your hair, but with no other stimulation to keep him focused, he too drifts off to sleep once again.

He wakes up again, hours later, realizing what happened and flops out of bed in panic. Scrambling to find his phone, he checks everywhere, yet it was nowhere to be found.

“GODDAMMIT WHERE DID I PUT THE DAMN THING?!”

“I hid it,” you simply said, leaning against the doorway while holding a tray of two steaming mugs, “You shouldn’t be working today,”

“WHY WOULD YOU-” B.D. takes a deep breath, pinching the top of his nose to calm down, “Sweetheart, I need my phone. I have work to do.”

“No,” you pout and and set the tray on a nearby table and crossed your arms, “All you do is work and work. I never get to see you anymore! I just ask that you spend Christmas with me. Please. We haven’t even finished decorating the tree because you’re always so busy! I-I know why you work so hard, but it’s all meaningless if you d-don’t actually spend time with me…”

You sniffle and wipe the tears out of your eyes, but tried to stay strong. B.D.’s heart broke and he immediately wraps his large arms around you, cooing and calming you down.

“Okay,” he kisses the top of your head, “Why don’t we go outside and finish decorating the tree hm?”

You nod at that and the two of you head outside and fish out the lights. It takes about an hour, and getting tangled in the chords a few times, to get it, but it was all worth it. B.D. hands you the controls, asking you to do the honors. You smile at him, and happily flip the switch. The tree lights up like fireworks in an array of colors, all dazzling and flashing the darkened living room. The star stood at the top, shining a bright yellow and illuminating your perfect face. The lights dances behind your wondered eyes, a soft blush spreading across your warm face. You don’t notice him staring, but you’re more beautiful than any Christmas tree he’s ever seen. While you watch the tree in amazement, he hands you your cup of hot chocolate. You giggle and thank him, as the two of you stand side by side, watching the glimmers of colors twirl and blink, while the snow falls silently outside.

He’s glad he took the day off.

#undertale #my writing #undertale headcanons #mafiafell #mafiafell sans #reader insert #raffle prize #sans

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ecotone99 · 5 years

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[MF]It's all fun and games

The thing I hate worst about hunting demons is the hours. It sure as hell ain’t nine to five. I’m not saying it’s always at midnight, but it is very rarely earlier. Definitely nothing good happens after midnight.

I've been waiting on this one for a few days. The Strauss family had given me the key to their house and rushed out in obvious relief on Tuesday. As I had requested, they had tidied up but not moved too many things. I had come in with my gear and set up in the garage. A military style cot, dried food, two changes of clothes, some basic toiletries, and my box.

Yeah my box.

It’s important.

Years ago, I carved my box from an oak beam salvaged from a burnt down church. I had salvaged several things from that old place after it burned. I had a lot more of the wood, of course. The firemen had let me in as soon as they had completely extinguished the flames. Some of the metal objects had been quite warm but I figured I owed the congregation my best efforts. They deserved it. I was still pawing through the wreckage when about fifty parishioners showed up with tools and trucks. The had food and drinks with them. Two of the men had gently but firmly removed me from the wreckage and sat me down on a tailgate with a cup of coffee and the best damn egg sandwich I had ever eaten.

That was the night my eyes had been opened and my calling made perfectly clear. The night a demon burned down my fucking church. Right before I killed the little hellspawn.

These days I don’t get surprised. Some of the tactics vary with the demons but mine was pretty set in stone. As one of my childhood heroes, Bruce Lee puts it, “I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.” My kick is my box.

I realize it seems a little weird as a weapon. It’s not so much the weapon exactly as a trap and a coffin. The box is very important and the nature of its making is important and hugely complicated. But in the end it makes the work so much easier. You can do this job without one, I had killed my first demon without one, but the box makes it possible to do so without burning down the structure you currently occupy. Bonus.

I won’t bore you with all the Symbols carved into the box. They are important certainly but the importance is directly related to me. If you made a box it would be very similar to mine in many ways. I could use yours and you could use mine. Assuming, of course that you are also a thaumaturge blessed by heaven. A thaumaturge is what they used to call a wonder worker or miracle worker.

I’m not making this shit up. Lots of Catholic saints, godmen in India and various other chosen people around the globe have done this throughout history. I can do it but I have no freaking idea how it works. I am satisfied knowing that it does, and I can help people with it.

Now sitting in the Strauss’ garage over the past few days I have really caught up on my reading. Mostly on my phone but also on my tablet, I devour series and single novels voraciously. If I could just make a living doing this I would be set. I eat a healthy, if a Spartan diet. I have all day to read, exercise and nap. Most nights are quiet and when they aren’t I have the grim satisfaction of knocking another invader off the wall between us and hell.

Have you ever looked at your watch, then someone asks you what time it is and you have to look again to answer them? That is the feeling I get when some demon shenanigans are about to begin. Like I did something stupid and I will likely do it again. I guess because the evil of the demon has a range and the perimeter feels more like exposed stupidity than actual evil. Chagrin maybe, I don’t know.

I set down my tablet when I get that feeling. I flex my feet in my boots to make sure the are tightly fastened. Standing slowly, I check the function of my joints and do a quick little stretch. I don’t want to pull a muscle for crying out loud. Some of these whoresons can get kind of rough. I snagg the box from where it lays on my pack. Finally, I roll my neck out one more time and walk to the door into the house and open it.

As I step through I catch a whiff. Butt funk and honey, Eu d’ Demon, my least favorite smell. The Strausses had told me that the demon seemed to begin in the kitchen and then move through the living room on its way upstairs to the kids rooms. I quickly decide to meet it in the living room instead of the kitchen. Too much sharp shit and glass in there.

Moving quickly I set the box down on the spot I picked out when I first arrived. The lid opens silently and I get a whiff of the oil that I rub into the wood after each use. It’s a pleasant and wholesome smell that covers up the demon stink very well.

I move silently and crouch behind the couch. I control my breathing and begin focusing on one of the small thaumaturgical miracles I can do. It essentially freezes any hellspawn in place for a few vital moments. I’m not one hundred percent sure why this is but it has something to do with how our brain functions versus a demons. Our amygdala is the part of the brain that processes our emotional reactions. Our amygdala loves a surprise. We like scary movies, surprise birthday parties and unexpected events. Even those people who say they hate them enjoy them. Well at least their amygdala has a positive reaction, even if the secondary reactions are not good.

I can sense the demon enter the room. The malevolence is palpable. An oppressive wrongness that kicks the senses into fight or flight. It’s time to make my move. My thaumaturgy is ready and I jump up from behind the couch and scream,

“Peek-a-boo!”

The reaction is instantaneous. The ugly blue/green thing with a clown’s face goes rigid, stiff as a board. I dash in and grab it with both hands and throw it as hard as I can towards the box. I hear the satisfying clunk of it closing, signifying the thaumaturge has taken affect.

I have never had the phobia but I do understand why people fear clowns. Something that closely resembles a human face but is slightly wrong in its features and movement makes us horrified. Deep down we know that the smile is wrong and hiding something. Every demon I have ever killed had a clown’s face. Horrifying.

I'm already fixing in my mind the next piece of thaumaturgy and I spin around putting my back to the demon and placing my hands over my eyes. I began to count aloud.

“1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3 Mississippi, 4 Mississippi, …”

When I get to ten I spin around and speak to the closed box.

“Ready or not, here I come.”

The box sits there, the lid is closed. I walk to the box and lift it onto the coffee table. I sit down on the couch and stare at the box for a moment and then reach out with my fist. I tap on the lid, the old rhythm. Tap tap tatap tap, Shave and a Haircut...a short silence. Then from inside the box comes the answering taps. Tap tap, Two bits. Got the bastard.

Now comes the coup de grace. I focus nearly all my attention on my left hand. I make it a weapon of the light and good in this world. I focus the wrath of God in my hand so that it begins to glow. I hold that power ready.

My right hand reaches for the little handle on the side of my box. It is the crank for a music box. As I begin to turn, the tinny sound of the music box floats in the room. I mouth the words to the song as I slowly crank the handle:

“Round and round the mulberry bush...The monkey chased the weasel..”

I think of all the little children in the world who go to sleep at night with a tiny touch of fear. They don’t know if they are the monkey or the weasel. Do they pursue their goals like their monkey. Scampering and trying to catch the things and people in their life that make them happy. Or do they scamper along in terror and panic? Stressed by the world and it’s pressure and always fearful of failure.

“The monkey thought twas all in fun..”

I know. I know they are both. I can’t save them from their own thoughts and choices, but I can give them one less thing to fear.

“Pop!...”

The lid pops open and the demon springs up. It is hideous and ridiculous all at the same time. It slobbers and snots through its horrid clown face. It’s blue hair bounced in ridiculous shoots at the sides of its head. The hands, in fat white gloves, reached toward me.

I reach out my left hand and touch the sickly soft fabric of its costume.

“You’re it, motherfucker.” I say in a low growl.

With the combination of the touch and those magic words, the clown screams. It lays its head back and howls. The hands come up straight in the sky and the entire clown body slumps all at once back into the box. One more scream comes from the box but it trails off. Like the old Roadrunner cartoons when something fell off a cliff. The scream fades and dies. I look in the box just to be sure. It smells like unwashed ass and honey but otherwise it is empty.

My right hand is still on the crank handle, I play the last notes.

“...goes the weasel.”

More stories, and some good reading and podcasts at https://www.ityatale.com/stories

submitted by /u/RevMajor [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2KFQOye

#Blogger #Story

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jonathanbelloblog · 5 years

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The New-Car and Concept Hits, Misses, and Revelations from 2018

As usual, the 2018 auto shows in Detroit, Chicago, Geneva, New York, and Los Angeles got the staff to arguing about which new cars, trucks, SUVs, and concepts were hits, which were misses, and which had us scratching our heads. Here’s a look back at some of the highlights and lowlights of the past year, with prospects for those models and concepts in 2019 and beyond.

HIT: Genesis Essentia Concept And the winner of the “Wait, that’s a Hyundai?” award goes to this breathtakingly beautiful concept car. What a work of art.—Aaron Gold

Star of the New York show, and probably the auto show season. It’s exactly the sports grand touring (electric vehicle) design that Genesis needs in order to build up its luxury brand credibility.—Todd Lassa

OUTLOOK: Production by 2021 confirmed. Genesis’s limited production halo will be a purely electric sports car—not an SUV.

HIT: Infiniti Q Inspiration Concept It features Infiniti’s interesting VC-Turbo variable-compression engine technology, and if the next production Q70 ends up looking like the Q Inspiration, I won’t complain.—Mac Morrison

Beautiful, even if it does look like it cribbed a bit off the Porsche Mission E’s sheet. The only thing I don’t like about this car’s sleek, relatively understated styling is the unlikelihood that it will make it to production without a dozen added ungainly flourishes.—Nelson Ireson

Too bad it’s not the actual car, because with its mean, chunky mug, massive panoramic glass feature that extends down the back, its wide, sweeping rear end, and floating four-place seating and console, this is a package that shouts luxury and exudes future cool.—Mike Floyd

After generations of uninspired flagship sedans, the Q Inspiration’s cues promise a return to the spirit of the original Q45.—TL

OUTLOOK: An Infiniti flagship that looks something like this will come. And without the distinctive C-pillar “Nakamura kink” curlicue featured on all current models.

HIT: Lamborghini Urus I came into the Motor City prepared to write a half-dozen jokes at the Urus’s expense, but after seeing it in person, I’m smitten.—A.G.

MISS: Lamborghini Urus I can give the Urus a pass because Lamborghini has done an SUV before, but I can’t forgive its uninspired, Aventador nose on a Q7 body.—TL

OUTLOOK: Will outsell the LM002 by far. And a multitude of forthcoming variants and special editions will keep it at the top of Lambo’s charts for a long time.

REVELATION: Toyota Supra achieves the perfect balance Chief engineer Tetsuya Tada says a key goal of the new Supra was that it must achieve a perfect 50:50 front-to-rear weight balance. From the sound of it, the team has nailed the brief. The Supra will not come with a manual transmission, which is a surprise to virtually no one.—MF

OUTLOOK: The production Supra finally bows at the ’19 Detroit show. With Akio Toyoda in attendance.

HIT: Mercedes-Benz G-class Like Jeep’s Wrangler, it’s a serious throwback that now doesn’t always have to make you feel as though you just bought a used car from the mid-’90s. Expect to smile more than ever when you drive one, or see one coming your way.—MM

The ever-so-massaged styling keeps the former-generation’s rugged looks with some considerations given for new technology. Plus, the doors still have that military-grade sound when they shut.—Billy Rehbock

You might not be able to tell the new G Class is new at all if you only see it from the outside. The interior, on the other hand, is now much better executed, from ergonomics to materials to design. Too bad its starting price is more than a good annual salary.—NI

REVELATION: Dr. Z still likes Detroit Daimler CEO Dieter Zetsche has a real fondness for The Motor City. He revealed the new Geländewagen at the historic Michigan Theater with erstwhile Hummer enthusiast/Governator/failed The Apprentice host Arnold Schwarzenegger.—TL

OUTLOOK: Mercedes will not attend the 2019 Detroit auto show. No Dieter Zetsche this year. But at least we have Akio Toyoda.

HIT: BMW X2 The slick new X2 is a refreshing break from the cookie-cutter SUVs—sorry, SAVs—we’re used to seeing under the Bimmer badge. Here, finally, is a BMW ute that manages to avoid both the frumpiness of the X3 and X5 and the silliness (and uselessness) of the X4 and X6.—AG

MISS: BMW X2 It looks like the designers were bored. So am I.—NI

OUTLOOK: Another Bimmer destined to cut into 3 Series sales. It’s a crossover. Of course it will cut into 3 Series sales.

HIT: Hyundai Veloster Hyundai’s next-generation Veloster is an evolutionary step in design and promises to be a genuine hot hatch. The N Performance model is particularly attractive with 275 hp and 260 lb-ft of torque sent through a six-speed manual.—BR

The Mark II Hyundai Veloster reminds me of the Mark II Honda CRX.—TL

HIT: Hyundai Veloster N Give us a simple car with a big engine and a buttoned-down suspension and chances are we’ll rave about it, because chances are it’ll be pretty darn good. If it doesn’t torque-steer like a lubed weasel, the Veloster N should be a gem.—AG

OUTLOOK: The Veloster N is a gem. After all these years, Hyundai has learned how to tune a chassis.

REVELATION: A Trumpchi by any other name GAC has committed to importing its first model, the three-row GS8 sport/utility, to the U.S. market by the fourth quarter of 2019.—TL

OUTLOOK: 50/50. Depends on whether President Trump or President Xi wins the trade war.

HIT: Volvo V60 station wagon The second car on Volvo’s “60” platform is the largest, widest, and important to this pick, the lowest wagon in its class by overall height, which at this point includes very little that is sold in the U.S. Volvo isn’t expecting the crossover- and sport/utility craze to turn soon – after all, the automaker makes bags of money on the XC90 and XC60 – but if anything on the road draws modern customers back to the station wagon, this will be the car.—TL

REVELATION: Will wagons make a comeback with non-enthusiasts? Judging from the number of them on the show floors, it certainly looks like the station wagon is staging a comeback. There’s the Buick Regal TourX, Mercedes-Benz E400 4Matic Wagon, and the Volvo V90 that all look good and give us fans some hope.—Ed Tahaney

OUTLOOK: Probably not. Buick insists on calling its Regal TourX wagon a “crossover/utility,” and it’s still not selling.

HIT: Lagonda Vision Concept Laser projection taillights, completely feasible for production. Lift up roof over rear seats. Electric vehicle possibilities emphasized. Car is length of Rolls-Royce Ghost, but with more interior space than the Phantom.—Robert Cumberford

MISS: Lagonda Vision Concept My first impression was, “nice lines, nice proportions.” But when the car spun on its turntable to where I could see two grownups lounging in the back seat, I couldn’t get it out of my head that this is a cartoonishly large car, especially for an Aston Martin.—TL

OUTLOOK: Some version of this must be headed to production . . . . . . as long as Aston Martin calls it an “SUV.”

HIT: Porsche Mission E Cross Turismo Concept It looks like an electric concept that Porsche might have drawn back in the days of the original 901-model 911, with none of the bulky body heft of virtually every modern car. In that regard, it’s the opposite of both the Tesla Model X and the S.—TL

MISS: Porsche Mission E Cross Turismo Concept Huge knobby tires. It’s really a strange beast. Hard to grasp its place in the world.—RC

OUTLOOK: To be produced as a variant of the Porsche Taycan. Watch out, Tesla Model S and X.

MISS: Volkswagen I.D. Vizzion Concept Suicide doors and ultra-flush cabins are cool, but those features have also become a de rigueur part of self-driving concepts. The disappointing part is the adherence to three-box design and this concept’s more-than-striking resemblance to a Tesla Model S.—Basem Wasef

OUTLOOK: The I.D. Buzz deserves more buzz. The modern Microbus makes for a better VW EV.

HIT: Subaru Viziv Concept Subaru has been working up some really solid concepts of late, and the Viziv is the best yet, with angles in all the right places up front, chunky fender flares and a take on Subaru’s trademark hood scoop. It’s an aggressive, yet modern looking design that Subaru would be well advised to push out basically as-is.—MF

It used to be that Subaru would show a nicely designed concept predicting a future model, and then the realities of production would result in something less than handsome. But the latest Impreza and Crosstrek are reasonably attractive, and now it looks like the next WRX/STI might benefit from those compact models’ looks. Better news is that the Viziv Concept hints that the WRX/STI could be offered in wagon form again.—TL

MISS: Subaru VIZIV Concept Six-sided grille frame, five-sided wheel openings front and rear, three-side headlamp openings. Decent looking, but excessively complex surfaces, retro hood scoop, really convoluted lift gate shape.—RC

OUTLOOK: A WRX/STI worth waiting for, if they do end up looking similar. Yes, but do enthusiasts buy Subies for the looks?—MF

HIT: Cadillac XT4 Has there ever been a good small Cadillac? The former Standard of the World has been trying and failing for the better part of four decades, but it looks like they finally got it right. The XT4 is cute and playful, a little cheeky even, and yet it still has the dignity and stateliness of a proper Cadillac. The XT4 may prove to be t from Performance Junk Blogger Feed 4 http://bit.ly/2Ayuwdp via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Performance Junk Blogger Feed 4

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eddiejpoplar · 5 years