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reasonsforhope · 7 months

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Humans are so cute. They think they can outsmart birds. They place nasty metal spikes on rooftops and ledges to prevent birds from nesting there.

It’s a classic human trick known in urban design as “evil architecture”: designing a place in a way that’s meant to deter others. Think of the city benches you see segmented by bars to stop homeless people sleeping there.

But birds are genius rebels. Not only are they undeterred by evil architecture, they actually use it to their advantage, according to a new Dutch study published in the journal Deinsea.

Crows and magpies, it turns out, are learning to rip strips of anti-bird spikes off of buildings and use them to build their nests. It’s an incredible addition to the growing body of evidence about the intelligence of birds, so wrongly maligned as stupid that “bird-brained” is still commonly used as an insult...

Magpies also use anti-bird spikes for their nests. In 2021, a hospital patient in Antwerp, Belgium, looked out the window and noticed a huge magpie’s nest in a tree in the courtyard. Biologist Auke-Florian Hiemstra of Leiden-based Naturalis Biodiversity Center, one of the study’s authors, went to collect the nest and found that it was made out of 50 meters of anti-bird strips, containing no fewer than 1,500 metal spikes.

Hiemstra describes the magpie nest as “an impregnable fortress.”

Pictured: A huge magpie nest made out of 1,500 metal spikes.

Magpies are known to build roofs over their nests to prevent other birds from stealing their eggs and young. Usually, they scrounge around in nature for thorny plants or spiky branches to form the roof. But city birds don’t need to search for the perfect branch — they can just use the anti-bird spikes that humans have so kindly put at their disposal.

“The magpies appear to be using the pins exactly the same way we do: to keep other birds away from their nest,” Hiemstra said.

Another urban magpie nest, this one from Scotland, really shows off the roof-building tactic:

Pictured: A nest from Scotland shows how urban magpies are using anti-bird spikes to construct a roof meant to protect their young and eggs from predators.

Birds had already been spotted using upward-pointing anti-bird spikes as foundations for nests. In 2016, the so-called Parkdale Pigeon became Twitter-famous for refusing to give up when humans removed her first nest and installed spikes on her chosen nesting site, the top of an LCD monitor on a subway platform in Melbourne. The avian architect rebelled and built an even better home there, using the spikes as a foundation to hold her nest more securely in place.

...Hiemstra’s study is the first to show that birds, adapting to city life, are learning to seek out and use our anti-bird spikes as their nesting material. Pretty badass, right?

The genius of birds — and other animals we underestimate

It’s a well-established fact that many bird species are highly intelligent. Members of the corvid family, which includes crows and magpies, are especially renowned for their smarts. Crows can solve complex puzzles, while magpies can pass the “mirror test” — the classic test that scientists use to determine if a species is self-aware.

Studies show that some birds have evolved cognitive skills similar to our own: They have amazing memories, remembering for months the thousands of different hiding places where they’ve stashed seeds, and they use their own experiences to predict the behavior of other birds, suggesting they’ve got some theory of mind.

And, as author Jennifer Ackerman details in The Genius of Birds, birds are brilliant at using tools. Black palm cockatoos use twigs as drumsticks, tapping out a beat on a tree trunk to get a female’s attention. Jays use sticks as spears to attack other birds...

Birds have also been known to use human tools to their advantage. When carrion crows want to crack a walnut, for example, they position the nut on a busy road, wait for a passing car to crush the shell, then swoop down to collect the nut and eat it. This behavior has been recorded several times in Japanese crows.

But what’s unique about Hiemstra’s study is that it shows birds using human tools, specifically designed to thwart birds’ plans, in order to thwart our plans instead. We humans try to keep birds away with spikes, and the birds — ingenious rebels that they are — retort: Thanks, humans!

-via Vox, July 26, 2023

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pjo-whore · 3 years

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Percy Jackson At Hogwarts

Chapter 1: Wizards Are What Now?

Look, Percy never wanted to be half-blood.

Being a half-blood – the child of a mortal human and a god – was dangerous. It was scary. Most of the time, on top of having neglectful parents and a dysfunctional and incestuous family that wanted you dead for petty reasons, it got you killed in other painful, nasty ways.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Percy didn’t feel envious of the kids who didn’t have to deal with the mythological world.

Percy Jackson was seventeen years old. Until a month ago, he was fighting a war against a Greek primoradial, the Earth Mother incarnate, Gaea – also known as his great grandmother. Before that, he fought in a war against his grandfather, Kronos, Greek Titan of Time, who wanted to overthrow the Olympian gods and take over the world and the Empire State Building. Somewhere in between he also found time to spend a month in literal Greek hell, Tartarus, who also happened to be his great grandfather, and who also tried to murder him on sight.

Was Percy a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

And right now, he was still trying to clean up the mess from the Second Giant War.

Now that there wasn’t a war looming overhead, the gods’ recent exploits were coming to light, and new demigods were popping up everywhere, everyday. The number of demigods skyrocketed now that they were actively searching and not waiting for them to stumble into Camp on their own.

But that also meant there were new kids to train, more demigods for the gods to claim, and less time to recoup from the recent war.

Less than a month had passed since Gaea’s defeat.

The days were filled with helping each other get back on their feet, rebuilding the camps, and trying to keep the fragile peace in order.

There was still a lot to sort out, and the gods weren’t as hands-on as most would like. There was conflict building up. News spread about how the gods helped the seven demigods of the prophecy fight the giants, because a giant couldn’t be killed by a mortal alone, and this made many jealous and angry. The gods could pop in for a single battle when it was their own ass on the line, but not when a group of their own literal kids needed to rebuild their home that was dedicated to the gods?

Besides Chiron and Dionysus, the only god to physically stay at Camp Half-Blood following the battle against Gaea due to his punishment from Zeus, there were no other adults. The oldest demigods were barely twenty. Despite age, most, if not all, the demigods looked to the prophecy demigods for guidance and leadership.

Annabeth, Jason, Percy, Piper, and Nico.

The brunt of the responsibility fell on the daughter of Athena, and the son of Poseidon. They led their Camp through the Second Titan War, and now they were survivors of another war.

Things weren’t easy for a long time.

The Camp was completely ravaged.

During Gaea’s seize of the Greek demigod Camp, the cabins were burned by the monsters and toppled by Gaea’s massive earthquakes. Not even the Big House – the staple of Camp Half-Blood, the oldest building on the lot – survived the attack.

Camp Jupiter didn’t fare any better, but their buildings had been more structurally sound, thicker and built of material that didn’t burn and crumble. Enough buildings were still standing well enough to inhabit.

Everything had to be rebuilt for Camp Half-Blood.

Nobody could be sent home – to their mortal homes, with mortal parents, and a mortal life, mortal being the slang for “normal” among the mythological world – despite the new lack of residency at Camp Half-Blood. Kids needed to heal. There were nightmares and PTSD. Trauma and concussions. People to be counted, bodies missing, some so mauled they were impossible to identify. Several bodies were unearthed from the ground, sucked in by Gaea’s attack and suffocated beneath the dirt.

Shrouds were made for those who could be identified, the unknown buried in unmarked graves to be remembered. Those who were missing were given honorary shrouds, unknowing if they were in one of the unmarked graves. The Romans were unable to do their traditional funeral rituals, transporting the bodies all the way to Camp Jupiter, and were burned in shrouds alongside the Greeks.

Mortal parents simply couldn’t help.

They couldn’t fathom their children being in a war.

There were fears that demigods would be taken away from Camp Half-Blood by their mortal parents, horrified at what their kids were put through. Chiron especially worried about demigods who would be kept from Camp by parents, forcing them to live alone without any mythological world support, to defend against monsters on their own, without any magic or special weapons.

So, among the remaining able-bodied demigods, Greeks alongside Romans worked together to erect the new Big House. Tents from the Romans’ siege on Camp Half-Blood were gifted to the Greeks to provide residency until the new cabins were built, while the Romans started to march back home.

During all the chaos, Percy didn’t have any time to sit down and process all that happened.

The whole Camp looked up to him as a leader, but Percy didn’t feel very strong or wise.

He only felt bitter.

There were some who walked by and whispered “lucky” and “prophecy.”

Some who stopped talking as soon as he walked into the room.

Those who acted like he wasn’t even human, just some untouchable hero; but they ostracized him.

Percy was aware that he was one of the so-called “lucky” campers; lucky being compared, because at least he walked away with all his limbs intact.

It didn’t feel like he was lucky.

He wasn’t unscathed. He bore many scars, visible and not. His time in Tartarus was an impossible nightmare on bad nights, and a shadow on good days.

Percy was learning that he had triggers.

He was learning Annabeth did, too.

Neither liked using elevators.

Annabeth’s expression went tight when Percy used his powers around her. She turned away, sometimes completely leaving the area.

She got antsy in the dark, a childhood fear resurfaced.

There were other little things; at night when she had nightmares she would toss and turn in bed, sweating through her clothes and sheets, despite the breeze being cold. Sometimes Annabeth would completely avoid Percy, acting snappish, always coming back and apologizing in the end, and they would hold each other like they were hanging over the chasm again.

Annabeth refused to talk about what she saw in her nightmares, and Percy never pushed. He was one of the only people who could understand what she was going through.

Sometimes all they could do was sit and try to drown out the memories of The Pit.

Percy’s triggers were different.

He developed a deep-seated hatred for empousai. The moment he saw one, his body started to shake with adrenaline and nerves, fire flashing before his eyes.

Percy could no longer look at the stars without feeling a deep loss, tears pricking at his eyes.

He prayed to his father, Poseidon, more often, as if trying to re-establish his connection to the sea, to re-establish his connection to the Overworld, as if that could cleanse him of what happened in The Pit. As if he could wash away the touch of The Pit.

Percy’s nightmares were always blurry and violent. He wouldn’t snap awake like others. He didn’t startle or jerk upright. He didn’t make a single noise. He would wake silently, and lay there in bed, eyes open and unseeing, that shattered glass feeling he always dreaded at the bottom of his stomach. After he could never go back to sleep, and he would get up and sit on the tile in his cabin for hours and look in the mirror and wait for the image to change. He would wait for it to reflect what he feared, though it never did.

“Okay, so, how big is the situation? Is it like, ‘Aphrodite lost her hairbrush again’ big? Or is it ‘Gaea has risen again’ big?”

Annabeth frowned. “I don’t know. All Chiron said was that a god needed our help – and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the sound of that.” She chewed her bottom lip in thought as they headed toward the Big House. They had been asked to attend a private meeting with Chiron, outside of the camp counselor meeting. “He sounded serious, too. Whichever god it is must be an asshole to seek help so soon after the war.”

She wasn’t wrong, Percy thought.

Jason was appointed Pontifex Maximus in Camp Jupiter, and as such he was responsible of advising the praetors, ruling over the Camp Jupiter counsel, and overseeing the work and prayers to the minor gods. His promise to Kymopoleia to bring worship and awareness for all minor gods became his fulltime job, and it was ruled that most gods must go through Jason to request help from either demigod camp.

A god asking for help directly after a full-scale war? Using Chiron as their connection? It was a hit below the belt, and it made Percy frustrated.

A few demigods raised their heads in greeting as Percy and Annabeth passed by the arts and crafts center. Conner and Travis Stoll, who were trying to build bombs with bits and pieces from the forge, took one look at Percy, then at Annabeth, and wiggled their brows suggestively. Percy unsubtly stuck them the bird, and they started to laugh their assess off.

The Big House was smaller now, after being rebuilt.

What could be scavenged from the attic was saved, but most of it was lost. Magical artifacts and ancient texts were burned and crushed. Now the Big House served mostly as the infirmary, aside from the drop-by medicinal tent near the Apollo cabin, where more medical supplies were. The Apollo and Hephaestus cabins had been the first to be rebuilt because they gave needed services.

Aside from the infirmary, the Big House had a commons area for meetings, and housed a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

Checking in the commons area, Chiron was in his wheelchair. Nico was sitting at the beloved ping pong table, which had somehow survived the siege on Camp, and Thalia was sitting backwards on a chair by the new counselor table, which no one ever used.

Percy sat next to Nico and twirled the ping pong paddle between his hands, Annabeth taking her usual seat during counsel meetings.

Chiron looked tense.

“Now, I know that only a month has passed since the end of the Second Giant War, but –”

The air practically sparked with the collective tension that built.

“– a new quest has been issued.”

Annabeth leaned forward in her seat, interested. “Chiron, you can’t have an official quest without a prophecy. And the last time I checked; the Oracle of Delphi wasn’t working right now.”

“Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t a quest from the Greek pantheon, then.”

Percy cocked a brow and shared a look with Annabeth.

“The Roman pantheon doesn’t have an oracle, and their last augur exploded himself, so –”

“It’s a friend of Lady Hecate, the Triple Goddess.”

Dead silence.

“The Triple Goddess?” Percy parroted. “I don’t follow.”

“The Triple Goddess is of the Old Religion, once practiced in Europe hundreds of years ago by the druids and magic users in general. It belonged to Albion, a land of five kingdoms, before it split into the United Kingdom and Ireland.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Nico said.

“All those years ago, in the middle ages, after the golden age of the Greek pantheon, the Old Religion became very popular in Albion. Magic was something that anyone could practice even if they weren’t born with the innate talent, with the proper training. Through the ages, though, the religion declined, and the New Religion rose and became the staple. While the Old Religion relied on the magic of the land, sea, and sky; the New Religion relied on your inner magical core, and so not everyone could do this new magic.”

Chiron shifted in his wheelchair and pulled out a small stack of photos, but when he tossed them onto the ping pong table, the demigods saw that they held moving pictures.

In one photo, it showed a person standing over a boiling cauldron, on the wooden table beside them, old parchment with a quill that moved by itself, writing on the paper. The picture moved slightly, the character stirring the cauldron. Then the animated picture reset and repeated.

In another photo, two persons stood facing each other, holding purposefully shaped wooden sticks, pointing them at each other. Bright lights exploded from the tips of the sticks, and their robes and hair swayed with strong winds.

In the last photo, a person was wearing a uniform of sorts, with a helmet and pads on their knees and elbows. They held an old broomstick between their knees, and metal hinges held on the back close to the bristles, like a hitch for the feet. In the picture, the person grabbed onto the end of the broomstick and shot into the air, like magic. It gave image to the stereotype of witches flying on brooms in the night.

“The Old Religion died out because the land lost its magic. Only select spots held magical creatures and natural magic. Magic was only preserved through the New Religion, and those who practiced the New Religion became witches and wizards. The lot of them went into hiding and created their own society – the wizarding world.”

“In today’s day and age, magic is passed down through genetics. And sometimes, those with magic cores can be born to those with no magic at all. The population of magic users stays stable, and there is balance in the world of magic …” Chiron winced. “Mostly.”

“But these people have lost contact with the Triple Goddess. They no longer worship or prayer to her. They rely solely on their own magic, not what comes naturally from the land, like in the Old Religion. And recently, war has passed for them. The Second Wizarding War ended four months ago. And this has severely depleted their resources and magic. There is a school for the magic users, used as the stronghold during the war, and now the wizarding world’s hero is returning to finish his studies.”

“His moniker is ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ and he’s called Harry Potter. But he was only a child – is only a child. He and his peers are children who have been used to fight a war that they shouldn’t have had to fight.” Chiron looked very grim.

Percy bitterly sank back in his seat.

“We were kids, too.”

Chiron sighed. “This war has thrown the balance of magic out of whack. The natural magic has been depleted for too long, and there are those who are actively tipping the balance to sabotage the magic for their own gain. It’s suspected that the dark forces from the war – Death Eaters – are still operating in the shadows. It is because of this that the Triple Goddess has called upon you as heroes to help restore the wizarding world and save magic.”

“You would only be obligated to attend the school of Hogwarts until you uncovered the source of oppression over magic, so the Death Eaters can be caught and restrained. If you choose to accept, of course.”

Percy eyed him sharply. “You say that as if we have a choice.”

Chiron pursed his lips. “Despite what you think, yes, you do.”

“But this is from a whole other pantheon,” Nico said. “A group of magical people who don’t even believe in the goddess who brought about their magic. Why do we have to fix this?”

More silence.

Chiron looked down on them unapologetically.

Percy shifted uncomfortably, looking over at Annabeth. Chiron seriously expected them to just up and leave Camp for this quest. Barely a month had passed since their own war, and they were getting by as they were. Percy didn’t believe Camp Half-Blood could afford to lose any support or cabin counselors, even for a short period of time.

“So, let me get this straight,” Percy said. “Basically – if I just ignore the little prologue, you gave there – you want us to go to this magical school, on orders of a goddess that’s almost faded, stalk a kid, and watch out for people who like to try to rob the world of magic – magic, which they use themselves.”

Chiron looked pained. “No, I don’t believe they’re purposefully robbing the world of magic.”

“Oh, well that clears everything up.” Percy threw his hands in the air.

“Regardless, you understand what’s being asked. This is a quest, technically coming from Hecate, as a favour for the Triple Goddess. It’s valid as a hero’s quest. It was decided it would be best that you go undercover as transfer students and secretly watch over Harry Potter, the target for most Death Eaters. Your goal is to prevent trouble before it gets serious, though I doubt that will be hard, as trouble always manages to find you –”

“Wait, hold on,” Percy said, still hung-up on the quest. “How are we supposed to fit in at a school for the magically gifted? None of us are wizards.”

“Oh, that is something that can easily be fixed,” Chiron said, dismissing the problem.

“Excuse me?!” Thalia said.

“Hecate considered this quest from the Triple Goddess for a long time before coming to me.”

Percy rolled his eyes. Out of everyone in the room, he had the least faith in the gods. They never gave him anything to have faith in.

Annabeth narrowed her eyes at the camp director. “And how exactly does Hecate plan on ‘fixing’ the problem? I don’t see any obvious solutions. We’re demigods, not wizards.”

Chiron shifted awkwardly. “She has not shared that with me. I have only gotten the request that you undertake this quest for the Old Religion, and that she will visit to prepare you.”

Percy felt like grinding his teeth. “Oh, so she just expected us to accept the quest. She never considered us refusing? Why can’t the wizards fix their own problem?” Chiron said nothing. “Camp is still in shambles – we don’t even have all the cabins rebuilt yet! We can’t leave, not now. There’s still too much work to do here, and too many new demigods to watch over and protect. And have you even considered that maybe we don’t want to go on this quest? That maybe we want a break? My entire childhood was prophecy after prophecy, quest after quest, serving the gods. We’re under no obligation to do this. You can tell Hecate that she can stick her magic wands up –”

He didn’t get the chance to finish because Annabeth had already taken a ping pong paddle and smashed a ping pong ball in his direction, the mutual action used to keep order in camp counselor meetings.

“BALL!” Annabeth yelled, slamming her paddle across the table.

Percy scowled and took his seat again.

“Now, Percy,” she said sweetly, leaning over the table. “Where did you say Hecate could put those wands?”

“Nowhere,” he muttered.

Annabeth acquiesced and put the paddle down.

“Where is this school anyway?” Nico asked. He frowned. “And Hogwarts? What kind of name is that?”

“It resides in Scotland, its exact location unknown and hidden by powerful magic. Outside of the school, which is an ancient and famous monument for the wizarding world, there are other magical establishments. One place you will be required to visit is Diagon Alley, a wizarding market. That’s where you’ll collect your resources for going undercover at school.”

“Again, you’re saying all this like we’ve agreed to go,” Percy mumbled.

He was ignored. Thalia raised her hand, her features etched with confusion. “Okay, I hate to be the one to say it – but how are we supposed to blend in with wizards and witches? We can’t use magic, and we know nothing about their world.”

Chiron admitted he didn’t know how Hecate would find ways around the problems. “She has informed me that, only once the quest is accepted, will she come and discuss the details. In fact, she should be arriving any moment –”

What happened next could not have been anymore dramatic.

There was a blinding flash of light – the glow filling the entire room – and it forced the demigods to cover their eyes lest they go blind from laying eyes upon a god’s true form.

All eyes landed on the goddess, technically titaness.

Hecate appeared as a tall, thin woman. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a kekryphalos, the shining coil twisting and adorned with intricate gems and metals. Loose strands of hair framed her sickly pale face, which held sharp chartreuse yellow eyes. She wore a dark chiton robe that draped over her thin figure, and it seemed to ripple like a heat hallucination, like ink spilling off to the ground.

At her feet, she was accompanied by a black Labrador retriever and a polecat.

The demigods all stood as one and politely bowed, as was common for all gods. Percy glared up through his bow as he followed reluctantly.

“Rise, my young heroes.” The goddess’ voice was smooth and rich. She sounded monotone. “You have done more than enough to prove your worth to me, and for that, I know that I can trust you. I have called you four here on special request from the Triple Goddess, who has observed your acts of heroics. She believes you can save the wizarding world, her beloved kin, and magics.”

“You will use the ways of the Old Religion to learn magics and go undercover. As demigods, you already have magical cores. They just need to be trained; refined.”

Percy scowled.

“And will the oh-so-gracious Triple Goddess be visiting us herself?”

Annabeth shot him a scathing look.

“Percy!” She hissed.

Hecate eyed Percy again, as if reappraising him. “No,” she said, after a tense silence. “You will be sent to get your wands from one who still practices the Old Religion and can pair you with an appropriate wand. Your cover stories are fabricated and with the wandmaker. The Triple Goddess does not appear without dire need.”

“Her entire world being in trouble seems pretty dire to me,” Percy muttered under his breath.

Annabeth elbowed him harshly.

Hecate narrowed her eyes.

“This,” she said, pulling a laminated piece of paper out of thin air, “is called a portkey. It is an enchanted item; when touched by the intended people, or random persons, it can magically teleport you to a predetermined location.”

She held it out to demigods.

On it, in fancy letters, it read: Littletree Farms, Dorchester, Boston, Massachusetts.

“Touch this, all at once, and you will have accepted the quest.”

Chiron gave them an encouraging nod. The demigods all shared exchanged looks.

“Our responsibilities …” Thalia started, subconsciously reaching up to grab at her lieutenant circlet, from the Hunters of Artemis.

“Will be forgiven for the time while on quest,” Hecate assured. “The Triple Goddess does not ask favours lightly. This has the potential to spill into the real world; to affect our pantheon. The Old Religion is younger than the Greek pantheon, but its reach goes far and wide. The Triple Goddess is powerful; no harm will befall your precious little Camp while you are away.”

Nico hesitated, but was the first to reach for the paper. “If this is really that important … why ask for us specifically? A larger group, organized and planned, could do better.”

“The Triple Goddess has observed you, and believes you are the right heroes to help save magic.”

“But right now? This instant? Can’t we have time?”

“You will come back to your little Camp before you leave for Europe.”

Annabeth pursed her lips, then also reached for it. “Okay.”

Percy looked at her, askance. “Okay? Just like that?”

Annabeth shrugged. “A quest is a quest, and someone needs help. We are in peace right now and have no threats. I don’t see why not.”

“Fine,” Percy said, tone short. He looked over at the laminated paper. “So, this will take us where? What’s in Boston that could be so magical?”

“A wand wood farm,” Hecate said, smiling thinly. “And your quest starts now.”

Percy’s eyes snapped to the paper, where Hecate had pushed it into their collective hands unwillingly. Then the world began to spin, and there was a sharp tug in his gut, yanking him out of time and space.

#pjo #hp #percy jackson #harry potter #pjo x hp #crossover #percy #annabeth #nico #thalia #part 1 #magic percy

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belovasangel · 5 years

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All That is Evil

Summary: You were taught to fear yourself, not what’s following you.

Pairing: Demon!Shawn x (fem)Reader

Warning: Swearing, blood, mention of pills, mentions of violence, mentions of death, mad angst

From the age of one to twenty-one, you knew something was wrong with you. Whether it began when you scraped your knee at four, or got hit in the face with a baseball at twelve, you noticed something weird, and it wasn’t normal.

Firstly, you heard a laugh. It wasn’t anything recognizable, like a family member or friend, it sounded different. Darker. Sinister. You learned that word at six, as it was the most accurate word to describe the internal fear you felt every time you got hurt. Like someone watching a comedy, and the punchline came. Literally.

Second, you bled black. People said it was just darker blood, a higher iron content, doctors said. It made sense when it was just a small paper cut or even a nosebleed, but it didn’t add up when you gave blood at the school’s blood drive at sixteen. The whole bag was blacker than the skinny jeans your best friend wore. You never forgot the fear radiating throughout the room once the nurse lifted the vessel of black.

The third thing that felt wrong was the shadows. Reflections. A sign of someone behind you, which didn’t become apparent until a family member pointed out the second shadow you had. It happened in the summertime, around the time for evening, and it was brushed off as a weird sunlight. However, it transformed into more, when you took showers and afterwards looking into the fogged mirror to see a blurred figure behind you. Again, the trick of an eye or soap, because when you blinked it went away.

It didn’t make sense to anyone. Doctors and psychologists were beyond shocked. They preformed CAT scans, blood tests, even isolation and electrotherapy to find a cure. However, it left you more rattled, scared, and hooked onto a cocktail of pills for insanity.

By the age of eighteen, you had taken enough pills for the entire city of Toronto to survive upon. You gave up, cutting off the supply of chemicals and let your mind free. After all the time you spent fearing yourself, it was time to give into the corrupted visions you were taught to ignore. Even on the pills, you heard a laugh, felt the tight chest, seen ink pour from your veins and watched a second figure follow you along the city streets.

You had an apartment in the middle of Toronto complete with a dog, and beautiful plants. Somehow, you grabbed the fifteenth floor suite and it was safe to say you’ve never made a better purchase. It became the only place you felt normal, even if you saw double on sunny days. However, you felt chills on the hottest days, and now that you were alone with your pit bull, Sebastian, things were even wilder then before. Items were moved around, clock times were off by hours, and Sebastian always barked at the same corner of your bedroom.

It didn’t make sense, not much did, but you learned not to question the minor inconvenienced you’d experience daily. Yet, you adapted and worked with the hand you were dealt with. All is fine in love and war.

You were content with the light chaos, where afterwards you counted your blessings, but none were enough when you turned around to see him. A man stood behind you, clad in black pants and boots with a grey button down and a bird tattoo. In a way, he felt familiar. Like you’ve passed each other on the street, or even in the elevator on the way to your room. Yet, it wasn’t the sight of him that was a memory. It was the shooting pain in your chest. Sinister.

His brow was furrowed, posture strong and jaw set. You had to look beyond his harsh stance and the bile on your tongue to open your mouth. He held up a finger, silencing your words. “I’m Shawn. Don’t ask how I got in here because I’m getting you out.”

He, Shawn, walked towards your bedroom and opened the door, striding to the closet and stepping in. You blinked a few times, letting the tight knot in your chest release before you protested. “Hey, hey! Get the fuck out of my apartment, who the hell do you think you are? How did you get in here? Stop- Stop touching my clothing you freak!” Running behind him, you grabbed his arm.

Within a blink, Shawn had you pinned to the wall, his bird tattoo clad against your throat. Tears quickly formed in your eyes, choking out coughs and pleas for your life. He chuckled. “Your fear is delicious, my love.” Shawn said as he leaned in to your hair, sucking in a deep breath. “However, we need to go, and I’m done with these foolish games.”

A final squeeze and he was off of your cowering body, turning around to ignore your body crumpling over. Shawn zipped up the overnight bag he packed himself and began walking towards the door. You stood upright, coughing into your elbow while wiping tears. He motioned to the door, tapping his foot.

“I’m not going unless you tell me where and why.” Shawn let out a groan, taking quick strides. “You need to trust me, my love. I’m here to protect you. Trust me and I will keep you safe.” You scoffed.

“Then, what the hell was that, moron? If you wanted to sneak in and steal my stuff, fine. Get out. I’m not going with you.” Shawn shook his head, his brows furrowing tighter. As he opened his mouth, there was a light knock at your door. You began walking to the door, yet Shawn caught your arm. “Let go.”

He pulled you to the bedroom once again, covering your mouth tightly and closing the door behind you. “Listen, we need to leave right now.” You shook your head, reaching for the door once again. “Tell me what the fuck is going on, Shawn. Why should I trust you? Who are you? Where are you taking me?”

Shawn turned towards the door, ear pressed to hear the newly formed commotion in the living room and kitchen area. You held your breath, watching Shawn run to the window and open the glass. He turned quickly, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you to sit on the ledge. Shawn kept your face to him, not wanting you to watch the next event to occur.

The bedroom door whipped opened, you let out a scream. Looking to Shawn, he gave you the first smile since meeting him. “I’m taking you to Hell.” And with a quick shove, you fell back.

You’d always imagined death to be beautiful, like a celebration of your happiest times and memories. A farewell to the life you’d been blessed with, and onto a newer and more exciting adventure. It was a mystery as to what life was like after your time was up. However, now you knew.

It was a plush, king sized bed with red satin sheets in a room surrounded by black, grey and white. The floors were marbled, the walls were a solid tone of grey, and the bed frame was engraved with patterns so intricate it would take days to finish the detailing.

You sat up in the beautifully soft sheets, fingers grabbing at the material thick in your fingers. Letting out a yawn, you stretched your sore arms. Peering around once more. The room was bare and lacking personality, yet you wondered why there was no memoirs or items of sentimental value. As your feet touched the surprisingly warm marble, the door opened.

Shawn.

He walked in, a cut on his forehead and bruises along his jaw and lip. You gasped, the fear diving into your chest like a blade. He caught your shocked expression, sucking in a deep breath with a smile. “Good morning, my love. I see you slept well.” Shawn walked beyond your frame, and opened the newly discovered bathroom door to clean up.

With hesitance, you stood and followed him in, marveling at the stunning black and white features along the room. “What happened, can you please explain to me where I am?” Shawn held a white towel to his forehead, watching the blood seep into the fabric. It was black.

“You’re in Hell, my love. You died.”

Scoffing, you pushed off the doorframe and walked into the bathroom fully, standing tall next to Shawn. “Shut the fuck up, tell me where I really am.” Shawn let out a giggle, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. “Is that really how you should be talking to your King? After all, I saved your life.”

You looked directly into the mirror, panic beginning to seep further into your bones. Shawn stood up tall, walking behind you in the mirror, focused on your confused facial expression. “Don’t you remember seeing me after those long nights, where you’d use those pretty little bath bombs? Or hearing my laugh when you’d burn yourself on the stove. How careless.”

Tears flooded your eyes. “Stop.” Shawn placed his bruised and swollen hands on your shoulders, connecting his eyes with yours. “What about all those sunny days on the sidewalk, or how you saw me move in your peripherals?”

“Stop it, Shawn.”

“I’ve always been here, by your side. Waiting for the right moment to bring you home. I couldn’t stand those bastards hurting your precious mind. Stopping what was rightfully mine. But, now you’re here with me, my love. And we can make them pay. Wouldn’t you like that?”

You sobbed into your hand, slowly falling to the ground of the bathroom floor, collapsing in on yourself. “You were meant to rule alongside me, you were born for the crown. I brought you here. I saved you! I killed those angels, ripped their wings feather by feather! Isn’t that enough?”

Looking beyond your tears, Shawn was standing above you, a small frown on his cheeks. “I-I need time.” He nodded, heading for the door. “Wait, Shawn?” He turned on his heel, bruises already beginning to fade lightly into greens and yellow. “Where’s Sebastian?”

Shawn clicked his tongue, then suddenly jerked forwards. “Oh, yes! Of course. I left him there, in your apartment. You’ll see him soon, in about a month, give or take a few weeks. However long it takes for... Okay, I’ll let you be.”

He left the bedroom, leaving you to quiet sobs in the new place you would soon call home.

#shawn #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagines #shawn peter raul mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes au #demon!shawn #demon!shawn imagine #demon!shawn au #koh!shawn #koh!shawn imagine #imagine #angst

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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My Hero Academia Season 5 Episode 5 Review: Operation New Improv Moves

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This My Hero Academia review contains spoilers.

My Hero Academia Season 5 Episode 5

“We’re birds of a feather.”

Battles are chaotic and it can be easy to focus on only the immediate danger within them. Survival can give the illusion of strength, but sooner or later this facade crumbles away without the right preparation. “Operation New Improv Moves” is an exciting My Hero Academia episode that presents another grueling fight between the students of Class 1-A and 1-B, but it also speaks to how essential it is to adopt a bird’s eye view perspective. This vantage point, which considers the whole situation and doesn’t get lost in the specifics, proves to be fundamental in not just battle, but also life. Hawks emphasizes this to Fumikage Tokoyami during his internship and it’s a pivotal lesson for his current clash against Class 1-B.

“Operation New Improv Moves” does primarily focus on the second battle in this Joint Training Arc, but it’s exciting that the first fight’s conclusion still has everyone abuzz. Midoriya’s brawl isn’t for a while, but he already can’t help but devise a strategy with Mineta. Mina Ashido’s Instant-Kill Floating Ball also better be the Chekhov’s Gun of this Joint Training Arc. This season has largely been fun and games so far, but it’s nice to see a fire get lit under everyone as their competitive instincts become unleashed.

Shinso and Asui were the big stars of last week’s win for Class 1-A, but they’re still frustrated over their inability to pull off a flawless victory. It’s a throwaway moment, but All Might actually dwells on it quite a bit with the other Pro Heroes. They break down why “frustration” is the perfect emotion to feel after a victory and that there are few expressions that are more representative of a hero. Shinso and Asui’s self-criticism expands into general pointers for the entire team by Shota Aizawa.

This is a stretch of episodes that’s designed to be about combat, but it’s appreciated that the previous fight’s results are studied. The entire team learns how they can generally improve upon their performance and it opens the door for all of these characters to debut new strategies whenever they’re next in the spotlight. In contrast, Vlad pushes much more of a tough love approach on Class 1-B’s students. They receive derision and frustration more than they do encouragement and advice.

Class 1-B also exhibits some reverence towards Kirishima and other heroes for their work against the Shie Hassaikai. It’s a fleeting detail, but it helps continue to flesh out My Hero Academia’s growing world. Some of the students from Class 1-A have achieved remarkable things, even by Pro Hero standards, and so it’d be kind of ridiculous if nobody was talking about it. It also plays better that Class 1-A doesn’t get cocky from these past achievements and it’s instead their opponents that mystify them through these rumors over their past.

“Operation New Improv Moves” provides an especially exciting and eclectic mix of fighters. From Class 1-A is Tokoyami, Hagakure, Yaoyorozu, and Aoyama, all of which have extremely unique Quirks that have never fully gotten their due yet. Class 1-B pulls together just as interesting of an assortment of heroes.

Itsuka Kendo has gotten some attention before in the series, but the rest represent some of Class 1-B’s weirdest individuals, with Quirks that pull from mushrooms, comic onomatopoeia, and living darkness. Before literal darkness takes over the battlefield, there’s some metaphorical shade thrown at Yaoyorozu from Kendo over how they both “fit into the same box.” A very “there can only be one” Highlander mentality begins to fester between students, but it’s best reflected in Tokoyami and Kuroiro.

Everyone in this fight has a lot to contribute, but it ultimately turns into a war between shadow-centric Quirks between Fumikage Yokoyami’s Dark Shadow and Shihai Kuroiro’s Black Quirk. It was inevitable that My Hero Academia’s Joint Training Arc would pit counterpoints of characters against each other, but “Operation New Improv Moves” is thrilling rather than predictable simply because Tokoyami and Kuroiro’s Quirks are so powerful and mysterious.

This season’s secret weapon continues to be an inspired use of Quirks when it comes to battle strategy rather than victory through brute force. Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow can unleash vicious attacks, but here he uses its size and maneuverability to scout the entire field and immediately locate the enemy. Unfortunately, Tokoyami’s increased aptitude with his Quirk only becomes more of an advantage for Kuroiro. Kuroiro’s Black Quirk allows him to commandeer Dark Shadow and turn it against Tokoyami’s team in a very powerful display.

What’s also so effective about the competitive nature between Tokoyami and Kuroiro is that it functions as this collective origin story for this rivalry. “You and I share a destiny,” Tokoyami coldly hisses at Kuroiro. “Operation New Improv Moves” successfully turns two fringe characters into individuals that feel like they could fuel their own spin-off, which is really the power of My Hero Academia’s characterization and what this new season has the ability to tap into. I’m not sure if Tokoyami’s accusation that Kuroiro is a “Dark Fallen Angel” is based on anything, but it’s a straight up savage burn and an effective way to label your opponent as the villain in this feud.

My Hero Academia’s Deku and Bakugo on Season 5, Class 1-B, and Dark Betrayals

By Daniel Kurland

My Hero Academia Season 5: What to Expect

By Daniel Kurland

The choreography around Tokoyami’s flailing Dark Shadow and Shihai Kuroiro as they move around the pipe-filled area gives this episode such a gripping visual quality. It’s easily one of the best uses of an environment for a fight that My Hero Academia has ever done. Both the Dark Shadow and Black Quirks are already fascinating, but they really get to show themselves off through the labyrinthine nature of the battlefield. The “flying” solution to Tokoyami and Kuroiro’s feud plays well and also feels like natural development for Tokoyami’s character. Deku’s been on the sidelines for a lot of this season, but I love that his reaction to this is a freaking “Egg of Columbus” reference as if it’s a totally natural thing to reference in this situation.

It comes as a surprise when the episode jumps back in time a few months to chronicle Tokoyami’s Quirk development alongside Hawks, but it’s an approach that actually really works well despite how it stops the action dead in its tracks. Not every episode should resort to this strategy, but it provides valuable context for not only Tokoyami’s evolved powers, but also the ideology that drives him forward. More Hawks is also never a bad thing.

Tokoyami and Kuroiro are mostly able to resolve their fight, but that’s merely one piece of this busy battle. The final moments of “Operation New Improv Moves” initiates “Plan B” where Kinoko Komori unleashes a fungal apocalypse on the battlefield that forces Class A to quickly develop a new battle strategy that carries over into the next episode.

When it comes to the supporting players in this fight, I’ve always been very skeptical of Yuga Aoyama and his Navel Laser Quirk as anything other than comic relief, so I was kind of hoping that this battle could legitimize the hero. “Operation New Improv Moves” features more smart use of Quirk application since both Aoyama’s Navel Laser and Toru Hagakure’s Invisibility Quirk both make use of light refraction, which allows them to actively mess with Kuroiro’s strategy. Aoyama still isn’t elevated above a novelty supporting character, but this does allow him and his Quirk a little more depth that goes a long way. It’s possible that both he and Hagakure will both have more to do in the concluding half of this encounter.

The animation in this episode that brings these fast-paced Quirks to life is a triumph, but Yuki Hayashi’s score is so excellent here that it deserves some special attention. Hayashi has never been a slouch, but he’s seriously upped his game for this season and every scene becomes more powerful thanks to the operatic music that accompanies these tense moments. It’s the first time in a while that the series’ music consciously stood out to me in terms of its ability to match the animation.

If there’s any major problem to this season of My Hero Academia so far is that there’s a strangely reflective quality to the episodes that bides a lot of time and leaves every episode feeling padded. This look to the past makes sense on some level since this season is all about a reunion and a chance at redemption between 1-A and 1-B from the events of season two’s Sports Festival. However, “Operation New Improv Moves” definitely gets indulgent in this regard. There are several moments where U.A. High’s faculty reflect on the progress that their students have made, which it’s possible to do without devolving into full-on flashbacks of old footage.

All Might’s memories about Midoriya even feel trumped up to some degree and certain moments like his performance in the School Festival concert shouldn’t necessarily be included among Midoriya’s mastery of One For All or his defeat of Kai Chisaki. My Hero Academia is a rare example of a shonen series that doesn’t get lost in filler material and it’s an incredibly faithful adaptation of the manga, but sometimes the cost of this is episodes that subtly run the clock and don’t really get moving until the halfway mark. When “Operation New Improv Moves” is focused on battle it’s absolutely fantastic, but it shouldn’t have to tiptoe around its action to this degree.

“Operation New Improv Moves” could be a tighter episode in some areas, but it still succeeds and even improves upon last week’s solid battle. It’s comforting that My Hero Academia allows this fight to spill over into the next episode and that every showdown in the Joint Training Arc won’t have the same “one and down” structure to it. There’s a strong mix of action, character development, and emotion through this exercise and it does exceptional work to highlight some of the anime’s unsung heroes. This battle continues to rage on, but Tokoyami’s narrative softly receives resolution as he passes the torch over to Yaoyorozu for the next leg of this confrontation.

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And the biased commentary protest group continues to fight the good fight. Never surrender.

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