#Carthage College

[moolovesyou]

What is History? | The Holdovers

a/n: first imagine in years. but i saw a really cool post by @riverdrowning, so thank you for posting; it gave me that push i needed! it is relatively short... but hey! if anyone has any requests, i would LOVE to take them!

s: Everything after the credits; where Angus remembers Hunham.

w: cursing

wc: 1,148

x.

'Barton man.'

The last words Paul Hunham said echoed in Angus Tully's brain for a couple of days. If somebody told him a few weeks earlier, that he would be sad at the Hunham-sized void at the front of the class, he would've laughed so hard he'd have to go back to the emergency room.

It was complicated. Paul Hunham was not his idol. Far from it, actually. He was an alcoholic with a lazy eye; a person that only exists in cartoons. But he's the only person who's ever believed in him so much, that he started to believe in himself. He felt seen. When he looked in the mirror, he saw a sliver of what Hunham might've seen.

In addition to his identity crisis, he was angry. He spent more than 2 weeks with Hunham. Most of that was spent overcoming seasonal pent-up rage. He just uncovered the less smelly, vulgar, badass side of Hunham; and now he's leaving? He's leaving Angus, alone, at Barton. Not only that, but he had to deal with the outrageous rumors his classmates made.

Every misinterpreted word made him clench his fists. Kountz had to have constantly been 2 feet away from a gnarly sucker punch.

However, he gritted his teeth.

'You never give up, do you?'

He wasn't going to throw all this away after someone had lost their job for him. So for the next year and a half, he kept to himself. Of course, he'd still mouth everyone off, but it just wasn't the same. He'd learned something he still couldn't comprehend. So, he studied hard. He learned to stifle himself. He wasn't upset when his mom would forget him to go on her last minute escapades. He would spend his final winter break at Barton Academy, accompanying Mary once again.

It was a lonely senior year. Hunham was still a lingering thought. He'd always wondered where he was, a year later. Angus considered keeping in touch, but it probably would've caused more trouble. It would've been weird anyways.

He graduated apart of the class of '72. His mom and now step-father Stanley attended, which was a relief he wished he didn't have to feel. He walked, practically ran, across the stage (opting out of another cartwheel). The idea of leaving Barton made him vibrate with joy. The idea of forgetting that winter break left him with dread.

'Keep your head up, all right?'

Now, Angus Tully was in his junior year of college. Aside from the endless catalog of books, nothing about college was encouraging. Everything felt like an act; and he didn't know his role yet. No professor stood out to him. His brain had formed a mental blockade, preventing him from forming any lasting relationship.

The sky was a dark, alluring blue. Bare trees pointed their leafless arms to the sky in a prayer for the spring again. Wind blew shutters against the windows angrily. It was nearing the evening on the 26th of December.

While everyone was with their friends and family, Angus spent his holiday in Boston. He roamed a familiar bookshop. It was tucked between buildings, in a non-discreet hiding spot. Mushy, grey snow accumulated at the bottom of the bookshelves. He must've been the only person here.

The books were cold. Some were wet. A few were frozen shut. The faint jingle of holiday music hung in the air as Angus grazed the book spines with his cold finger. He was content, despite the shop owner glaring at him.

He crouched down to the bottom shelf. It was labeled 'History'. He was searching with no aim. Angus simply attempted to busy his mind. He saw dates and names he hadn't uttered since Barton. Peloponnesian war, he scoffed. Sicilian expedition. . . The Timeline of Athens. . . Carthage-

He squinted his eyes, leaning forward and resting his hands on the wood. His head tilted to read the spine clearly.

Carthage: The Ancient City of Tunisia.

The corner of his lips curved slightly. His fuzzed brain recognized this, why? Past conversations echoed in his brain. A familiar smell of waxed floors and pine trees hovered a ghostly aroma just beneath his nostrils. His left arm even felt a little sore.

Angus pulled the book out abruptly. It was a fairly new book. He could tell by its color and intact spine. The edges had wilted with the moisture. He rubbed the cover, removing speckles of snowflakes. His fingers lingered at the bottom of the book.

'Written by Paul Hunham'

He pursed his lips to stop himself from smiling. That son of a bitch. A part of him was shocked. But, the rest of him knew it was possible from the beginning. For once, it felt good to have high hopes. His cheeks warmed up and his heart pumped excitedly. This probably saved him from impending hypothermia. Distant memories flew at him like migrating birds coming home.

Something in him made him hesitant to flip the pages. Everything he knew was still buried under dusty memories. Whenever he thought of Hunham, everything was still an unfinished thought. A what-if. A chicken scratched dream dreamt by a super-hair-gelled teenager. Was he supposed to look into the present when he was still, undeniably, stuck in the past? He shivered with anticipation. The bold letters glared at him. Truthfully, nothing was a dream anymore. They had reached the future that headlined so many conversations. This book was evidence of that. He was just stuck searching for an explanation.

So, he opened the book. Each page flipped felt like a layer peeled off of Angus's heart. He skipped from the middle, to the end, to the start, and back and forth.

He flipped all the way to the beginning. A relatively blank page. The dedication page. A few words anyone could've missed. A few words most people probably skipped. The few words he actually read.

'To Mr. Tully, you can do this. I did.'

He chuckled., rubbing his stubble in awe. Suddenly, he felt eighteen again. He could hear the school bell ringing for him to go to fifth period. His heart tugged at the possibility of sitting in a Barton desk again. A history lesson accompanied by a lazy-eyed stare.

As Angus was once told, history is an explanation of the present and a study of the past. To Paul Hunham, Angus was an evaluation into his own youth and upbringing. To Angus Tully, Paul Hunham was, and currently, is a reminder of who he can be.

"Can I buy this book?"

x.

A couple weeks later Paul Hunham received a letter in the mail.

'To Walleye,

I read your book. I thought it was alright. I think it could use more pornography.

Let me know if you ever pass by Barton again. I'll be there. I'd love to have another traditional dinner. How about Easter?

From, Angus Tully.'

[ridethecyclone-daily]

CARTHAGE COLLEGE

[gwenstacysblog]

Christmas doesn't feel like Christmas.

The Holdovers // Angus Tully in college celebrating Christmas without Walleye.

It was December 18th. Snow was falling and all of Boston seemed eager for Christmas to arrive. Happy shoppers left stores with gifts for their loved ones. Carolers sang "White Christmas" while families skated in the park. The last day of classes before break was always bittersweet for Angus. It has been three years since that Christmas at Barton. Angus found himself alone yet again another Christmas. His mother and Stanley decided it was time for another trip. Leaving Angus all alone. The last time he spent Christmas "alone" he really wasn't alone. He had Mary and Walleye. They were more like family than his own family.

It was the best Christmas he had in a very long time. Angus often wondered what Walleye was up to. Mary and Angus still kept in touch. He was thankful for Mary's support getting through his last year and a half at Barton.

After Angus left Barton, he decided to go to Boston College and study history. He made a few good friends but all of them went home for Christmas.

Angus was planning on going to a ski lodge to get away for a few days. If he was going to be by himself, he might as well have some fun.

He was packing up his things when he got the call. "Hello? Who is this?" Angus said. He waited for a response. "Angus, this is Mary Lamb. I wanted to check in on you, dear."

"Oh, it's so good to hear from you! I'm doing alright." "Good, good. What are you up to this Christmas?" "Well, my mom and Stanley are traveling again." Angus tried to hide his disappoint but his tone was cold and melancholic. "Angus, I'm going to my sister's and we would be more than happy to host you for Christmas. What do you say?" Mary's tone was gentle and motherly.

Angus had to think for a minute. "I guess my solo ski trip can wait a few days." Angus got the address and planned on leaving first thing in the morning.

On his way, he decided to pick up a bottle of whiskey as a thank you. Luckily the roads weren't too bad. Some of the snow was turning into slush and the drive was only forty-five minutes.

When Angus arrived, he took out his suitcase and walked up the stairs. The last time he hiked up those stairs Walleye was waiting in the car. It almost felt wrong to be celebrating without him.

Mary answered the door and gave Angus a big hug. "It's so good to see you, dear!"

A wide grin crossed his pale face. "Good to see you, too. Thank you for having me."

Mary laughed. "Well, it's no ski trip but I can promise some good home cooking." She took Angus's suitcase and shut the door. "Come into the living room. There's someone I want you to meet." Angus followed Mary. He looked around at the pictures on the wall. There he was. Curtis Lamb. He recalled meeting him once. Curtis was a good man. He deserved better. To be honest, a lot of people deserved better. A certain history professor deserved better.

"Angus, I want you to meet my nephew, Curtis," Mary said. She smiled proudly as she sat down next to the young boy on the couch. He was playing with a wooden train.

Angus couldn't help but smile. "It's nice to meet you, Curtis." He awkwardly waved at the boy.

Mary picked up Angus's suitcase again. "I'll show you to where you are staying."

Angus enjoyed his time with Mary's family. They were kind people. They all laughed and sang Christmas songs at the piano. Mary cooked up a delicious Christmas feast. It looked like Christmas. The tree was decorated with ornaments and lights. It was snowing outside. He got to experience a real family Christmas. But something felt missing. He couldn't help but wish Walleye was there. Christmas doesn't feel like Christmas without him.

"Angus, I have a gift for you," Mary said. She handed him a carefully wrapped gift with a red bow. "Go on. Open it."

He took off the ribbon and the wrapping paper. It was a book. The title read, "Carthage: The Ancient City of Tunisia by Paul Hunham." He opened up the book and read the first page. It was dedicated to him. Angus Tully. Maybe you don't have to physically be with someone at Christmas to feel their presence.

[marvelmaniac715]

I have recently begun studying the Aeneid at college, and we have just finished reading about Dido and her death. I can’t quite explain it, but I felt an overwhelming sadness and rage at her death. I have never felt such female rage before, but something in my heart cries out for my fallen sister, even if she’s fictional, doomed by the narrative from her first appearance. I wrote this poem to express my feelings, it’s not my best work and it doesn’t rhyme, but I just had to share how I felt about poor, doomed Dido, the Queen of Carthage:

Oh Dido, most unhappy of women!

Subjected to loss, time and time again

A brother through treachery, a husband through death

Then your heart itself through false love

Venus and her cruel, taunting sons destroyed you

Tore you apart until you were nothing

Scraps of meat for the lions to feast upon

And oh, how the gods feasted upon you

You died by Aeneas’ sword, his belongings in ashes beneath you

His love killed you in all the ways a person can be killed

But, in truth, no gods, no forced love, truly doomed you

It was we, who clamoured for stories

Who clamoured for art, and music, and sculptures

Mostly made by men who could not comprehend your grief

To them, a woman’s heart, and the way it breaks, is a source of amusement

Virgil was the one who doomed you first, your epithet sealed your death sentence

“Doomed Dido” - he never gave you a chance

It was mankind who made the gods, and the stories of old

Aphrodite became Venus, but lost none of her cruelty

Once folklore is written, it’ll rarely change

We know Pandora will open the box

We know Eve and Snow White will eat the apple

We know Orpheus will damn Eurydice by looking back

And we know you will die, struck fatally by Cupid’s arrow

To those who know your myth, they’ll think firstly of your death

Of a shining steel sword plunging into your vulnerable, exposed chest

There is little art that depicts you in your prime

Standing tall, sitting proudly upon your mighty throne, in a city you built through your blood and sweat alone

No, we see you upon your funeral pyre, eyes raised heavenwards

We think “poor, wretched Dido” - is that how we should view a Queen?

In 1666, the closest mankind could get to understanding you was a lament

A soprano dons your regal clothes and sings

“Remember me, but ah! forget my fate”

We have denied your request, all of us

You are doomed anew every time someone reads your story

Laid upon your pyre like a sacrificial lamb to slaughter

Yet another corpse for the gods to draw their power from

I do not see your story as a tragic love

I do not support Aeneas

Perhaps I did, before I knew you

Before I knew the force for good you were

Before I knew your grief, your fallen husband, the sacrifices you made to build Carthage

Before the man you were forced against your will to love sailed away for good

Now I see a monster, who knew what he was doing

He is no Odysseus, he is no Orpheus, though both men have their faults

He is the conceited, self-important child of a god

‘Founder of Rome’ indeed

I weep for you, Dido

Virgil gave you such power, such strength, then he tore it away

You had nothing at the end, you were led to your doom like a puppet on strings

Even this poem goes against your final wish

I cannot mention you without your tragic death before your time

I beg you, please forgive me, my Queen

You have always been so much more than a victim

[inspofromancientworld]

Ulysses and its Ancient Origins

By Elliott & Fry - Twitter: National Portrait Gallery Main page for the image: NPG x126801, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=144794591

Alfred Tennyson, 1st Baron Tenyson, was a poet who lived from 1809-1992 was the Poet Laureate (one who is expected to write a poem for significant national occasions) to Queen Victoria and is the ninth most quoted author in The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations. His published his first book of poetry in 1829 with his brother while they were attending Trinity College as well as won the Chancellor's award. Before he graduated, though, he had to return home after his father died. He continued to write, though, publishing his second book of poetry in 1833, though after heavy criticism, he didn't publish another book for 10 years. In 1842, he published his third book of poetry in 1842, which included Ulysses. In 1850, he was appointed Poet Laureate.

A Roman mosaic depicting a maritime scene with Odysseus (Ulysses), from Carthage, 2nd century ADBy Giorcesderivative work: Habib M'henni - File:GiorcesBardo54.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10353941

Ulysses is the Roman version of Odysseus, the hero of the Odyssey, on which the poem is based, though there are hints of Dante's Inferno's character of Ulisse, who dwells among the false counselors in hell. Ulisse was condemned to hell for seeking more knowledge than humans should have and for his role in creating the Trojan horse. In Tennyson's poem, Ulysses describes his exploits from old age, that despite his joy at reunion with Penelope and Telemachus, he longs to return to the travels of his youth. Ulysses wants '[t]o strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield', to abandon his family and kingdom and return to his youthful explorations and exploits, to be the hero rather than the king. He views his own life as '[l]ife piled on life/Were all too little, and of one to me/Little remains', thinking Telemachus would be a better king because '[m]ost blameless is he, centred in the sphere/Of common duties'. He then turns to those who traveled with him to return to their voyages, though without a guarantee of return '…Come, my friends,/'Tis not too late…It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,/And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.' (the Happy Isles being Elysium, the place where heroes and the upright go after death.) He laments that they were '[m]ade weak by time and fate, but strong of will/To strive to seek, to find, and not to yield.'

You can read the whole poem here.

[j0jorocityisntokay]

The Truman Show GerRome AU

You guys gotta hear me out about this

For the people who haven’t watched the movie, it’s about a man, Truman, whose entire life is a tv show and he’s the star. His entire life is broadcasted 24/7 since the day he was born, and he was adopted by a tv studio. Everyone he cares about is a paid actor that is being fed lines. Truman does get a happy ending (he escapes the tv set), but think about it—it’s not exactly happy. Why would Truman be able to trust anybody ever again? If someone holds the door open for him, is it because it’s out of the genuine kindness of their hearts, or is it because he’s Truman? Is it because they’re also being fed lines through an earpiece he can’t see? He would be in a constant state of paranoia. The only person that has cared about him was a woman named Sylvia, the woman he fell in love with when the producers intended for him to fall in love with another woman named Meryl. Sylvia wanted to free Truman so she tried to tell him the truth, but she was immediately taken off set and he never got to see her again. He’s motivated to escape for someone he fell in love with years ago, someone he only got to spend a brief amount of time with, and someone who he never stopped loving, despite having a wife. For this GerRome au, Agostino (Rome) is the star of the show. He is charismatic and handsome and funny and really all you could want in a man. He has a loving wife (Ancient Greece/Aikaterini) and a bright son (my Byzantine Empire/Alexios oc), as well as a beautiful home by the sea and a stable job as a college history professor—what more could he want? But deep in his heart, he never wanted a mundane, suburban life style. He yearned for excitement. He yearned to explore the world, to venture beyond his small seaside town. He’s tried to do it, but his fear of the ocean due to a horrible experience he had out at sea has prevented that from happening (his former boyfriend, my Ancient Carthage/Hannibal oc, took him out on a sailing trip to try to mend their relationship but drowned. The producers set all of it up so Agostino would be too scared to try to escape by sea, if he ever got the idea).

Agostino met Germania (Aldrich) in college, as a student. The producers wanted him to fall in love with Aikaterini—and he did, sort of. He thought she was pretty. They dated. But he was never truly happy. He just wanted to please Aikaterini. Agostino was practically attached to Aldrich and probably spent more time with him in college than with Aika. He wasn’t sure what it was about Aldrich that interested him, but he supposed it was everything. How he looked, how he talked, how he laughed (if ever), his look of surprise when Agostino came running to him, his blush of embarrassment, he could go on and on. But Aldrich did have somewhat of an ulterior motive once he got closer to him—he was going to get Agostino out of here. Before he became an actor on the show, he was a part (and still is) of a small group that advocated to free Agostino because obviously confining someone to a tv show and making them believe that their constructed reality is true is kind of fucked up. Aldrich thought the best way to free him was to become apart of the cast (he made sure to cover up the time he spent in that group). He eventually tried to tell Agostino the truth, that all of this was a lie, and tried to talk to him about escaping together, but a security guard dressed up like one of the background characters took him away pretending to be Aldrich’s father and he was fired.

Agostino lived in relative peace afterwards, but that wasn’t to say Aldrich left his mind. Agostino thought about him almost everyday. He even picked up drawing just to make sure he never forgot his face. His words never left him either. Agostino was wholly shaken up after the incident and for a while genuinely considered his words, but his “best friend” convinced him he was just overthinking it. He believed him obviously, but after finally finding out the truth for himself and going on a paranoid trip, he faces his fear of the ocean and tries to escape. The producers almost drown him, but he survives and makes it till the very end—only to find out that he’s in a tv set. Though, he does find stairs and an exit door and with a final goodbye to the camera, leaves, thus ending the show permanently.

Once’s out of the tv set, he attempts to find Aldrich, though Aldrich comes to him first. They have a bit of a cheesy confession scene and Aldrich decides to show him the real world.

Paranoia settles in again. What if people do favours for me because I’m me and not because it’s kind to do so? What if they’re also actors? What if the world he was in right now was just another tv set on a larger scale? Like with Truman and Sylvia, nobody has ever actually cared about Agostino besides Aldrich, which led him to cling onto Aldrich like it was the end of the world. They would’ve probably had a lot of fights over this since Aldrich thinks he’s overreacting and Agostino a genuine mistrust of everyone else, but Aldrich does eventually realise what Agostino is going through and helps him realise that maybe it isn’t so bad after all.

I’m going to keep thinking about this tbh. Sorry this was incredibly long, I just had a lot on my mind lol. Feel free to ask questions!

edit: I changed Rome’s modern human name

[mrs-jamesbbarnes]

I drove through Carthage, Missouri dozens of times on my way between home and college, and each and every time I laughed about how much it didn’t look like in Supernatural 5x10

[rustbeltjessie]

May 25: On the beach. An old, rusty boat, and this amazing structure. Someone (I am assuming some college students from Carthage, as the campus is right next to the beach) built a party hut out of driftwood and rocks!

[hetagrammy]

Rome, #9 ! :)

Gonna preface this by saying I am no expert in Roman history, and even less informed about the Etruscans. The ancient world's lack of sources continues to cause me pain

He started out originally as the personification of the Latins, born sometime around 900-800 BC

He served as a vassal state to Etruria before rebelling against her in 509 BC when the Republic was formed. The two had a bit of a mentor/mentee relationship, but Rome eventually came to resent her

Despite his resentment and his ego, he knows deep down he owed a lot of his success to her, and he respected her

His teen years were essentially just him continually slogging through war after war, but he grew very rapidly during this period. He started out his wars with Etruria physically 12 or so and began the Punic Wars closer to 18-19

He initially was treated with a lot of condescension by Carthage, but ultimately they were... coolly friendly with each other. I think it was reminiscent of China's relationship with Japan. By the time of their second treaty however, she recognized he wasn't a scared little boy anymore- and most importantly he wasn't afraid of her anymore

I think that actually defeating Etruria gave Rome a bit of a power high, and the first time he had the thought "Why stop here?" And who stood in his way of becoming the most dominant power in the Mediterranean but Carthage?

I think that drive also came from a sense that he wasn't going to give anyone else the chance to make him subservient again

I think he started to grow out his beard during the Punic Wars, sort of signaling his growth into an adult

He also took in his first ward during the Punic Wars, Spain

He met Ancient Greece around the 200 BC, and she was 100% his first love. They'd continue to have a pretty tempestuous relationship until after the Achaean War and their eventual marriage. It definitely wasn't perfect, but it grew significantly more stable

I think his whole thing with Ancient Egypt was more of a fling than an actual relationship. They were both aware they were trying to use each other and had the attitude of "Why not have a little fun while I'm at it?"

Generally, I think that through much of the Roman Republic he went through this phase of being hyperambitious and hedonistic. Kind of like a high schooler transitioning to college and going off the rails, but if he had access to Bronze Age weapons and beef with half the Mediterranean

Once the Empire got going and he had to start worrying about internal problems (and kids because whoops, he got Ancient Greece pregnant and Romano happened) he settled down a bit more. Definitely still self-serving and wily, but he had attachments and people to care about that made him more cautious

That's all I have at the moment. At some point I need to do a proper deep dive into Early Rome and Etruria

[mythandlaur]

Code: July Day 12 - Hopeless

There's no way I'm getting all the ones I want to done in July at this point, so you'll probably see a few stragglers posted in the next couple weeks.

This one's based on the prologue of the fangame IFSCL, but since the whole story isn't out yet I've kind of taken my own spin on it. The premise should mostly explain itself, at least.

And no, I'm not doubling this up with day 30's prompt, because I want to actually show them being happy for that one.

...

13-04-2010

If you could live your life over again, what would you do differently?

It was one of those lofty questions you only got in philosophy questions or as essay prompts to judge your character. Jeremie had always hated that, the kind of question that has no right answer, a problem with no solution. It always leaves him flailing trying to figure out what he's supposed to say in response--he's much more comfortable with math and science, where things aren't necessarily simpler, but every consistent action has a specific result. Two plus two always equals four. Baking soda and vinegar always makes carbon dioxide.

Even in the quantum sciences where there was far more uncertainty, he still held the belief that it all fit into a paradigm people just hadn't figured out yet. Time moves in a straight line, unless it doesn't, according to some rule that hadn't yet been discovered.

Computers, most of all. If you delete something (really delete it, not just your grandma wiping the Recycle Bin), it should be irretrievable.

If you could do things over again. It was supposed to be a hypothetical. But all the laws he knows have already fallen to pieces--and behind it, he's forced to face that question in a terrifyingly real way.

It's hard for him to read the flickering blue display on the screen across the room with one of his glasses' lenses rendered a useless conflagration of spiderweb cracks. 30...20 seconds left, maybe? Jeremie could've force-executed the special RTTP immediately, of course, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to enter the last command. Did that make him a coward? It's not like an extra minute would make much of a difference.

Maybe he should've known this was coming the moment he'd looked into the news article, and the strange events that had immediately followed.

Dr. Hugh Tyron found dead in his home...asphyxiated...no signs of struggle...under posthumous investigation for cyberterrorism and possession of confidential documents and technology. The name had struck Jeremie as vaguely familiar, like he'd seen it in passing, and a bit of digging revealed a paper trail perfectly parallel to Waldo Schaeffer and the other members of Project Carthage he'd managed to identify.

Immediately after the article, those other members began dying one after another, in either a set of serial murders or horrific accidents usually involving power lines or out-of-control industrial equipment.

Mr. Delmas had, out of the blue, sent a friendly email to Jeremie asking about info security--apparently, the Kadic school records had been breached and he was concerned about student safety, but had no idea where to start in upgrading their outdated systems.

A fire had broken out at the old Renault factory, putting it back on the city's radar and resuming talks of demolition.

A prolonged blackout had struck the entire city of Valence, France, where Jeremie's parents lived and where he would've still been at the time if he hadn't left for college in America a couple of weeks early.

Twelve times, they'd tried again to destroy it. Twelve times, they'd succeeded, but got less and less of a reprieve, had less and less hope. It only figured that number thirteen was the unlucky one.

And now, here he is, running the last resort RTTP, one so extreme none of them would remember anything once all was said and done. He wouldn't be doing it if he was completely hopeless--he was sure there had to have been something they could've done to prevent this outcome, maybe when XANA was weaker. But it's not like he'll be able to do much to change things, just relying on their scattered half-memories to guide them down another path. It's a long shot, but maybe it'll work. He has to believe that.

Jeremie wishes he'd had time to leave something behind for his younger self, a message or a bit of advice or something, but there's no way something like that would survive a RTTP as big as this one anyway, so he's left simply speculating to pass the last few seconds. He's probably going to miss his own perspective the most--because XANA had been big, yes, but so many things had seemed equally as big and scary back then when they just weren't, things as simple as talking to his friends or having a crush or telling the truth--dear god, he's going to have to come out all over again isn't he--

Maybe...maybe he would tell himself to spend more time with them, not to just save it for a later he hadn't been sure was coming. Not to get so worked up over little things, because he only ever got so annoyed because he was scared. Tell them more, in general. Several incidents could've been avoided like that.

Like William. That's one of the things that was obvious in hindsight--he wasn't angry at William, only a tiny bit of it had ever been at William. It was a whole mess of mistakes on everyone's part, but it wasn't William's fault that Jeremie had spent an entire summer break sulking and come back full of spite.

Yeah, Jeremie thinks, that's definitely one thing he'd want to change. He'd devirtualize William instead of freezing up and yelling at him uselessly. Maybe they'd be a little closer at the end.

He sees the counter hit single digits. He considers telling Yumi, on the other side of the door to the busted cargo elevator behind him, but decides against it. The whine from the mainframe, this time loud enough to be clearly audible two floors up, should be enough of an indicator.

Aelita's stuck upstairs. He wishes he could call her. He hopes she understands. He hopes that she can hope alongside him, because she's always been like that, even on her worst days.

Really, if anyone's going to figure out what's going on and how to stop XANA this time, it's going to be her, out of sheer stubbornness if nothing else. He can't hope to match that.

The whine reaches a fever pitch, but the air doesn't grow thick like he's used to it doing. He can move perfectly fine, without time seeming to slow to a crawl while his brain runs too fast to keep up.

A white light springs from the center of the laboratory, and Jeremie shields his eyes--but not fast enough to miss a flicker in the air in front of him.

It...is him, he realizes as he peeks out from in between his fingers. Younger and dumber and looking like he's staring into an oncoming train, but definitely himself. The elder tries to scramble to his feet, tries to wave a greeting, think of something to say, I'm sorry, I forgive you--but before he can get a word out his world goes green, then white in a shower of painful sparks.

09-10-2003

Jeremie lurches backwards, the weight of his own backpack nearly sending him tumbling. He grips onto the side of the bridge to steady himself and takes a moment to catch the breath he'd suddenly lost.

What had that been just now, on the other side of the bridge, looking at him?

He rubs his eyes with the heel of a hand, glancing over to where he'd seen it, but...the stranger who'd been standing there is nowhere to be seen.

"What was that?...I really need to get some sleep."

For a moment, he looks over his shoulder, considering going back and telling Maya. But--that's dumb, what's he even supposed to say to her, that he'd had a weird dream? He hadn't even explained those to her properly yet. Besides, once he got the remote connection set up, he would be able to talk to her whenever he wanted--and as of right now, he'd be in enough trouble if he got caught outside of the dorms.

He ignores the chill down his spine, or the sudden weight on his shoulders, as he hops down the ladder to the waterways where he'd parked his scooter.

(A boy sits bolt upright, whipping his head around towards the other bed in his room with a long-since-dulled venom on his tongue for being woken up--but then he remembers that he's never had a roommate.)

(A girl presses her ear to her doorway, but she doesn't hear her parents arguing. So why can't she sleep? She checks her phone out of habit, but that's stupid. No one ever calls her. And--she likes it that way, doesn't she?)

(A boy--or at least they think they must be a boy, at the time--scrambles about trying to keep a small, hyperactive dog from destroying a hotel room so he can get a few seconds of peace to call his family and let him know he'd gotten there safe, despite already knowing the call's going to go to voicemail. He really hopes whoever he's rooming with will be cool about dogs.)

(An older boy's in the middle of writing his twenty-sixth love letter that night when his stomach suddenly drops out from under him and his eyes sting with frustrated tears. He sits back in his chair, stares out the window, and decides he's done enough work on his little project for one night.)

(A virtual girl lies on her back and stares up towards the vanishing point of the datastream far above, suddenly convinced that there must be an infinite amount of life to live beyond it, despite having no evidence. She does not know that world. She has never known it. So how can she miss it with such ferocity?)

(And a blond with broken glasses opens his eyes to find white as far as he can see, except for a line at the horizon where a rainbow sits like a smeary soap bubble, as if the light itself has slowed enough to split into its constituent colors--or, perhaps, he was moving too fast. He slumps down against a door that isn't there anymore, realizing abruptly that he is both Schrodinger and the cat, in one place and time and another, existing and not existing.

He settles in for a millisecond that will last an eternity. But perhaps, if he goes unobserved, he can be in that other place, just for a moment.

And if that's right, he vows to do whatever he can to fix the odds, this time.)

[carthagesubbing]

Self-Introduction: AdPro

Hello everybody, my name is AdminProductions. But these days I go by AdPro. I am one of the newest members of Carthage Subbing. I used to be a full-time YouTube content creator, but I've taken a break from uploading. Since French is the origin of Code Lyoko, I have been wondering what it would be like to experience the series in its original language with subtitles that help people understand in English. I am from America, so I grew up with Code Lyoko on Cartoon Network when I was little, and even grew up watching the whole thing on YouTube back before Mediatoon decided to upload the series on there themselves.

As those of you may be aware, I am the person who posted the "Garage Kids 20th Anniversary Redub Version." I was the director, script editor, sound designer, and voice of Jeremie for that project. I am also involved in the Code Lyoko Japan Project, I was formerly a translator for Season 1-2 episodes, but I am now a digital designer for their YouTube channel and I guess you could say their "Lyokopedia." To be honest though, it's not just in CLJP that I'm a Lyokopedia, many people regard me as being extremely knowledgeable about Code Lyoko since I've been paying attention to every detail and every line that's said by the characters over the 15 or so years I've been watching the series, and for context I am currently 22 y/o. MRCL is also a big project for me since I am a resource collector and artist for that team, so I also collectgraphic and audio resources related to Code Lyoko, anything from the Supercomputer ID Cards to the sound effects used by the Scanners, I try to get them all. There are a lot of other Code Lyoko related projects that I'm a part of, but those are pretty much the gist.

As for me, I'm a weird puppy floating around in space, I'm nowhere and everywhere at the same time. I am a fan of Ace Attorney/Ghost Trick, Professor Layton, LEGO Island, Pokemon, Tomodachi Collection/Life, Rockman.EXE, and many more. Currently I am a full-time College student with a goal of getting a degree relating to computers, hopefully landing a programming job.

That's pretty much all from me, I do not think there's anything else to say. You all can expect my translations for Carthage Subbing to show up soon, see you all there.

[goldenandhappy]

1, 3, 6, 7, 9, 12, 14, 18, 19, 20, 25, 27, 28, 33, 35, 38, 39, 41, 43, 46.

I hope this isn't too much. I'm just very curious. 😊 I hope you're having a great day.

HIIIIIIIIII !! No it's not ! Wait ! lemme check that list !

Okay soo

(1) I need to finish watching Gintama. I stopped right before the Semi-final episodes. That was 4 years ago, and it has been 4 years that I have been wanting to go back.

(3) Smoothies. Humm. I'd choose a smoothie if there's nothing better available. I'd prefer a juice.

(6) i'm not sure I get the question right, but if it's asking how I mark my page, I am a monster who folds the corner :3

(7) I had to go check because it's actually very balanced and the ciolors I have a represented in respectable quantities. With that said, it's either white (overwhelming number of white shirts) or blue (overwhelming number of blue jeans).

(9) Sounds : falling rain / Smells : eucalyptus ♥

(12) that's a very cute question :3 And I can't really explain, but, we vibe ? She's the sweetest thing ever while being witty and funny and strong willed. We've been friends for a decade almost now. Time flies aigh :')

(14) My college campus. I still go back to visit from time to time. I don't know anyone there anymore, but that place still feels like home. Peaceful, and full of great memories ♥

(18) The founding of Carthage (or of Rome). Both stories are enshrined in myth with no real evidence of how things started. But at the same time, those two cultures left such an impact on my part of the world, witnessing how they actually started would be insane. :')

(19) Okay sooooo this might sound weird to a lot of you, but we never did haloween. It's just... not in the culture 🤷‍♀️

(20) Algebra, geometry, system modeling and functional analysis... I like math :x #EngineeringMajor

(25) Nope. But i'm considering adding two extra ear piercings to get Zoro's earings. If i'm getting a tattoo, it's going to be the X from Alabasta, but on my back, coz that'd be cute :3

(27) 1 keychain. A small bronze 5 dollar bill. I didn't buy it myself. Found it, used it O:)

(28) yes and yes (perks of costal regions)

(33) Earbuds. Headphones flatten my hair.

(35) It's a panda in a blue worker jumpsuit :3

(38) My friends listen/watch/ know about everything I consume because i'm noisy and i'll talk about it a lot :3

(39) I went shopping, then I slept :3

(41) menthol ? Idk, it's homemade by my bestfriend, she changes the formula every 3 weeks :x

(43) Depends on the time of the day. The light is really good in the mornings/afternoons, so no need to turn on the lights.

(46) Blue lock. No regrets. it SLAPS.

[tlatd]

August 1st, 1767:  The Founding of Carthage, NH

Originally known as Hilton’s Town, the settlement started along the shorelines as fishing was plentiful.  As settlers came into the area farmsteads and orchards formed and the town was granted a charter as Carthage.  Some families currently residing in Carthage can trace their roots to the founding although some may be twisting the truth a little here and there.  

November 8th, 1854:  Colburn and Walmsley feud

The family feud between the Colburns and the Walmsleys comes to a head when Vincent Walmsley is accused of Gertrude Colburn’s murder.  Nothing is ever proven against Vincent but, years later on the anniversary of Gertrude’s death, his body is discovered tangled in the hedge fence dividing the families’ land.  The bodies of both Gertrude and Vincent are buried in the Old South Cemetery with Gertrude’s gravestone naming Vincent as her murderer, a final dig at the Walmsley family.

March 2nd, 1893: Cecil Lawrence Spiritualism Encampment

Noted psychic in the Spiritualism movement, Cecil Lawrence founds an enclave of Spiritualism on the outskirts of his hometown of Carthage.  The group is met with mixed feelings throughout Carthage.  In the years to come, as Spiritualism fades, the group disbands and is regarded as yet another example of the charlatans of the time.  Threads of the families involved reside in Carthage in present day, however, and may still dip their hands in the spiritual realm. The location of the enclave is eventually reutilized as one of the large orchards to the north of town.  Cecil Lawrence’s cabin still stands.  

June 23rd, 1923:  The Brummet Fire

There was a horrific fire at the Brummet estate during a dinner party. The Brummet family, a wealthy and old family of Carthage, nearly all perished as well as the majority of their guests.  Out of the twenty-five in attendance, five survived that night including the niece to the family’s matriarch as well as the purported paramour of said matriarch.   The house was left in ruins that stand to this day.

May 2nd, 1985:  The discovery of Tabitha Wainwright, Erica Fitzsimmons, and Stephen Miller

The bodies of three Hanbury College students were discovered near Revelations Falls, a location popular with local legend hounds as a place the Devil was supposedly seen throughout the early days of Carthage and beyond.  Rumors swirled about the case and the cause of their deaths, many sighting organizations within the college both real and possibly imagined.  The deaths are ruled to be the result of hazing gone wrong and the victims are said to have all died from exposure.  Whether or not this is believed, however, is a matter of opinion.  The happening brought about many fears that seemed to sweep the nation at the time with ‘outlandish’ accusations being flung throughout the town.

October 21st, 1998:  The disappearance of Bryn Hepburn

Bryn Hepburn, 15, went missing from his house while home alone with his brothers.  Despite best efforts, no evidence of his whereabouts was ever discovered and the case goes cold.  The community remains divided on what happened, many harkening back to 1985 and the fears that case brought about.

December 15th, 2022:  The Fletcher Burglary

During the evening of the lighting of the town’s Christmas tree, there was a break-in at the Fletcher family’s home, wealthy residents of The Ridge.  At this time there are no leads and no reason beyond the family’s wealth that they were likely targets.  Another question remains, was this simply a one-time happening, or are there more break-ins to come?

Present Day

Welcome to Carthage, NH.  The dominoes are lined up and ready to fall but the living can see nothing at all of what is to come.  

Admin Note:  We want this timeline to work as a touch-point for inspiration as well as a claim for you all to put any significant happenings in your character's past or your character's family's past.  If there is anything that you would like added to this timeline in that regard please don't hesitate to contact us to scheme something out.  If there are any other points already mentioned on the timeline feel free to ask us as well.

[lboogie1906]

Cardinal Dr. Wilton D. Gregory (December 7, 1947) is a Roman Catholic archbishop and scholar who as of November 2020, became the first African American Cardinal in the history of the Roman Catholic Church. He was born in Chicago, as the oldest of the three children of Wilton D. Gregory Sr. and the former Etta Duncan. His reverence for parish priests and teachers at St. Carthage Grammar School led him to baptism into the Catholic Church at age eleven. After graduating from Quigley Preparatory Seminary South, he entered Niles College. Upon completing his theological training at St. Mary of the Lake Seminary, he was ordained a priest in the diocese. He served three years of service as Associate Pastor at Our Lady of Perpetual Help in Glenview, Illinois. He taught at the seminary and before earning his D.Div at Pontifical Liturgical Institute. He resumed duties as a seminary professor.

He was ordained Auxiliary Bishop of Chicago and Titular Bishop of Oliva, making him the youngest Catholic bishop in the nation. He along with nine other African American Catholic bishops, co-authored “What We Have Seen and Heard: A Pastoral Letter on Evangelism.” He published a tract titled, “The Spirit and Truth: Black Catholic Reflections on the Order of the Mass”.

He was appointed Bishop of Belleville. He faced issues relating to race relations and clerical sexual abuse. He partly addressed these and other issues in The Messenger, the newspaper of the diocese, and the three-part video, Enduring Faith: A Story of African American Catholics in America. He garnered considerable national attention when he was elected to serve as the first African American president of the US Council of Catholic Bishops.

Pope John Paul elevated him to Archbishop of Atlanta. He wrote a commentary on racism in America pledging to work with the new Administration to find a solution rooted in spiritual conversion. Pope Francis named him the first African American Cardinal for the Catholic Church.

He is a trustee of The Catholic University. He has received nine honorary doctorates. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[that-new-carthage-girl]

Hey hey hey!

My name is Jocie!

I'm half Brazilian and half Japanese! I grew up in Komatsu City in the Ishikawa Prefecture of Japan, but I live here in New Carthage now!

My super awesome boyfriend is Jon Kent, but he isn't here on Tumblr, and the other ones here aren't my Jon.

And my super awesome amazing dad is @kal-tennyson (Hi dad!!)

I'm a robotics major in college and my huge project is making a medical aid bot that can detect poisons and toxins in a blood stream and then synthesize a cure or combatant to save lives and administer medication as necessary! Testing so far has been going along well! Just working some kinks out!

I also help @new-carthage-bluejay build her suit and tech, it's the least I can do for her since she protects the city!

I also work as a repair technician for various things! (Gotta pay bills somehow)

[OOC under cut]

Hey hey! Mod is 23+ and suggestive content may pop up, so minors please filter out those tags and content!

This is loosely based around various Canon sources, some headcanons, and some Discord RPs I have with the mod of Kal's account!!

This is the civilian account for The New Carthage Blue Jay, and her identity is only known by a select few people!

[silvestromedia]

SAINTS OCTOBER 29 "There is only one tragedy in this life, not to have been a saint."- Leon Bloy

Bl. Maria Restituta, Roman Catholic Nun and Martyr. Sr. Mary Restituta was arrested by the Gestapo and accused not only of hanging the crosses but also of having written a poem mocking Hitler.On 29 October 1942 she was sentenced to death by the guillotine.The Nazis offered her freedom if she would abandon the Franciscan sisters, but she refused. When a request for clemency reached the desk of Martin Bormann, a high ranking Nazi official, he replied that her execution would provide “effective intimidation” for others who might want to resist the Nazis. She spent the rest of her days in prison caring for other prisoners. She was beheaded on 30 March 1943. She was 48 years old. Feastday: October 29

ST. FELICIAN, MARTYR OF CARTHAGE

St. Cuthbert Mayne, Roman Catholic Priest and English Martyr. Before being brought to the place of execution, Mayne was offered his life in return for a renunciation of his religion and an acknowledgment of the supremacy of the queen as head of the church. Declining both offers, he kissed a copy of the Bible, declaring that, "the queen neither ever was, nor is, nor ever shall be, the head of the church of England".

The Douai Martyrs, More than 160 priests trained in the English College of Douai, France, returned to England and Wales and faced arrest, torture, and execution by English authorities. A large group, more than eighty­were beatified in 1929, and English dioceses celebrate the feasts of these martyrs.

St. Kennera , 4th century. A virgin martyr of Scotland educated with Sts. Ursula and Regulus of Patras, Greece. She was a hermitess in Kirk Kenner, Galloway, Scotland.

St. Elfleda, 1000 A.D. Benedictine abbess, the daughter of Earl Ethelwold, who founded her abbey in Ramsey, England.

St. Colman of Kilmacduagh, 623 A.D. Abbot­bishop, son of the Irish chieftain, Duac. He lived as a hermit at Arranmore and Burren, in County Clare, Ireland. Made a bishop against he will, he founded a monastery at Kilmacduagh, on land given by King Guaire of Connaught.