#more like flashy death storm

[wholoveseggs]

I don't know if you've talked about this before, but what style of music do you think Elijah would like best?

I LOVE this question, and I have so much to say. I have two answers: one is what he probably listens to based on show canon, and the other is what I want him to like because I think it’s hot.

First, canonically: Elijah is absolutely a fan of classical and jazz. We see him playing the piano like the refined gentleman he is..Someone who has spent centuries honing his craft. I imagine him being a fan of the greats: Chopin, Beethoven, and Debussy for classical, and Duke Ellington or Miles Davis when it comes to jazz. It fits his old-world charm, his sense of elegance, and his love for structure and tradition.

But what I want him to secretly love? METAL

Picture this: it’s middle part menace Elijah in TVD Season 2. He’s sitting in a dark room, wearing one of his perfectly tailored dark suits, sipping some ridiculously expensive bourbon... with a goth girl (me) perched in his lap. And what’s playing in the background? Classic heavy metal or death metal. (This is my ultimate Elijah fantasy ~lol)

I feel like he’d have a preference for 90s/00s stuff (my favorite, hehe) Disturbed, Tool, Nine Inch Nails, maybe even a little System of a Down or Slipknot. The angrier and more intense, the better.

I also think Elijah would have a deep appreciation for the classics. Bands like Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and Deep Purple. Their groundbreaking artistry and the way they shaped modern music would resonate with him, especially given his centuries of witnessing cultural evolution firsthand.

But 80s metal? Oh no. He’d probably find it far too disingenuous, with all the flashy hair and over-the-top theatrics.

This version of Elijah makes so much sense to me, especially in Season 2. This is a man who spent decades hunting Klaus. He’s angry. He’s violent. That calm and collected demeanor we see? That’s just the surface. Deep down, Elijah is full of rage, grief, and a relentless drive for justice.

And that’s why I think he’d relate to metal. It’s raw, it’s angry, it’s aggressive, but it’s also cathartic. The technical precision of bands like Tool or Metallica would appeal to his love of structure and mastery, while the sheer chaos of Slipknot or System of a Down would let him connect with the storm raging inside him.

I find something so hot about the idea of this super-refined, 1000+ year-old man who exudes elegance and control, secretly loving aggressive, chaotic music. It’s the perfect contradiction.

Here is my fantasy metal playlist for a goth girl who wants to ride Elijah (me):

Land of Confusion - Disturbed

Schism - Tool

The Hand that Feeds - Nine Inch Nails

Closer - Nine Inch Nails

BYOB - System of a Down

Whisper - Evanescence

Crawling - Linkin Park

🥵

[emperordinozenmon]

The Son of Death

Dino needed practice writing Sohyun and so I helped pseudo sequel to daughter

Diogenisys “Dio” Battle learned early in life that being a demigod was no fairy tale. At just ten years old, he was thrust into a world of monsters, ancient prophecies, and responsibilities that would crush most adults. Like many demigod children, he discovered his true nature young, but few had to endure what he had by the time they were sixteen. Battling through two wars, dodging the razor edge of a Titan’s spear and the bone-crushing force of a Giant’s Warhammer—this was the life he knew. All because he happened to be born in the shadow of Percy Jackson, the demigod whose name was etched into legends across the world.

Strangely, Dio hadn’t grown up around Percy. Their paths didn’t cross until Cece, one of his closest friend, introduced them at Camp Half-Blood. Meeting Percy wasn’t the awe-inspiring moment Dio expected. Instead, what struck him most was the weary, haunted look in Percy’s eyes—a gaze common among older, battle-scarred demigods. It was something Dio himself didn’t possess. Even as the years passed and challenges mounted, he remained bright-eyed, determined, and somehow untouched by the weariness that seemed to cling to other heroes like a second skin.

While Percy’s legend loomed large, Dio found his true inspiration in Jason Grace, the late son of Jupiter. Jason taught him more than swordsmanship; he showed him how to thrive as a hero in the modern age. From hot-wiring a car to navigating the intricacies of mortal and divine alliances, Jason’s guidance shaped Dio into the fighter he became. Jason’s loss was a devastating blow. It left an ache Dio carried for years, but instead of letting it break him, he let it fuel him. In honor of Jason’s memory, Dio strove to be better—to make every lesson Jason taught him to count.

Dio talents weren’t as flashy as some of his peers. He couldn’t command the seas like Percy or summon storms like Jason. He didn’t possess the raw tactical genius of Athena’s children or the bloodlust-driven combat prowess of Ares’s kids. What he had was something different: tenacity. When others gave up, Dio pushed forward. He coupled that unyielding spirit with two unique gifts—his mastery of emulation magic and his command over berserker fury. The first allowed him to mirror the fighting styles and powers of others to an uncanny degree. The second gave him terrifying strength and endurance in battle, though it came at the cost of control. These abilities made him a force to be reckoned with, even among the most powerful demigods.

Still, there was one thing that set Dio apart and gnawed at him constantly: he was unclaimed. Year after year at Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter, he watched friends like Cecilia, Longinius, and Amalia receive the glowing sigils of their godly parents. Yet for Dio, there was only silence. No divine acknowledgment, no sudden burst of power. The sting of rejection was sharp, but Dio buried it deep. If the gods wouldn’t claim him, he’d claim himself. He poured his energy into honing his skills, becoming one of the camp’s most formidable warriors and mages. His unclaimed status became a badge of honor, a testament to his ability to succeed on his own.

But success came at a cost. His relentless drive for improvement and the isolation of being unclaimed left Dio feeling increasingly alone. While others bonded over shared parentage or divine favor, Dio’s solitude grew heavier. The sadness that followed gnawed at him like a constant shadow. Yet, as always, he accepted it as part of life. For Dio, that sadness wasn’t a weakness—it was proof of his strength, the cost of greatness, and a reminder that even without a godly parent to claim him, he was still a hero.

One day while training with Cecilia She invited him to a blind double dinner date with: Cecilia, her girlfriend, and a girl named Sohyun.

Dio wasn’t confident at first

“Oh come on the last girl you talked to was Drew 3 years ago now. You gotta get back out there,” Cece says convincingly.

Dio shrugged and said, “I’d rather just focus on training with the new cursed weapons I got,” but Cece was having none of it.

“Not. You are already strong enough, now come with Yujin and I to meet with Sohyun, You two have a lot in common frighteningly so.” Cece counters. Dio looks at her confused but ends up following her anyway.

The duo arrives later at a nearby pizza place that Dio had introduced Cece to and that Yujin loved. A little later Yujin arrives with Sohyun. Dio and Sohyun lock eyes and feel a weird feeling of being “seen” for the first time. The two feel exposed and uncomfortable as they reel in that feeling.

“Hey honey,” Cece says to Yujin who happily takes her girlfriend’s hand and kisses it. Yujin smiles while Dio and Sohyun continue to feel each other out. Cece and Yujin watch intrigued.

The pizza place was warm and bustling, the chatter of families and the clinking of glasses providing a lively backdrop to what was quickly becoming an oddly charged meeting. Cece and Yujin slid into their seats easily, their dynamic playful, and affectionate, while Dio and Sohyun sat across from one another, mirroring each other’s stiff postures. Their initial exchange had been brief but laced with something unspoken, a strange gravity that neither of them knew how to process.

Cece leaned into Yujin, whispering, “Look at them. It’s like watching two cats try to figure out if they want to fight or nap together.”

Yujin grinned. “They’re even sitting the same way. Arms crossed, barely leaning back. Total mirror image.”

Cece stifled a laugh, but Dio and Sohyun were too engrossed in their cautious attempts at conversation to notice.

“So,” Sohyun said after a pause, her voice calm but probing, “you’re the cursed hero everyone talks about.”

Dio gave a small nod, his face unreadable. “That’s what they call me, yeah. But ‘Dio’ works just fine.”

Sohyun tilted her head, studying him with an intensity that made Dio’s grip on the edge of the table tighten. “Okay, Dio,” she replied, her tone even but carrying a hint of curiosity, like she was turning over a puzzle piece in her mind.

Cece kicked Yujin lightly under the table. “They’re both going to explode from awkward tension, aren’t they?” she murmured.

Yujin smirked. “Nah, they’re too stubborn for that. This’ll be a slow burn.”

Oblivious—or perhaps deliberately ignoring—the commentary from the couple across the table, Dio asked cautiously, “So, what do you do for fun?”

“I write songs,” Sohyun answered simply, watching his reaction closely.

Dio raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “What kind of songs?”

Sohyun hesitated, her expression softening for a moment. “I guess you’d call them introspective. I like to explore…emotions people don’t usually want to admit they have.”

Dio nodded, something in her words striking a chord with him. “That’s interesting. I write too, sometimes. Poetry, mostly.”

“Poetry?” Sohyun repeated, her voice tinged with surprise. She didn’t expect that from him, and it intrigued her more than she cared to admit. “What kind?”

“Mostly environmental and urban poetry,” Dio said, his eyes briefly flicking to hers before darting away, as if afraid to hold her gaze too long. “It helps me process things, I guess.”

Sohyun considered this, nodding slowly. “That makes sense,” she said, her voice softer now. “I think we all need something like that.”

For a moment, their guarded exteriors cracked ever so slightly. Dio noticed how Sohyun’s lips curved just faintly at the edges, and Sohyun caught the way Dio’s fingers relaxed their grip on the table. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Cece and Yujin exchange another knowing glance.

“Did you catch that?” Cece whispered.

“Oh, I caught it,” Yujin replied, popping a piece of pizza into her mouth. “They’re doomed.”

Meanwhile, Dio shifted in his seat, trying to shake the feeling that Sohyun could see right through him. He didn’t like feeling this exposed, but he also couldn’t pull away. “So, do you perform your songs, or are they just for you?” he asked, keeping his tone casual.

“A little of both,” Sohyun admitted. “I don’t like sharing them too much, but sometimes… it feels right.” She hesitated, then added, “What about you? Do you share your poetry?”

Dio shook his head, a self-deprecating smile flickering across his face. “Not really. It’s more personal. Just something I do to clear my head.”

“Hmm,” Sohyun said thoughtfully. “I get that.”

Their eyes met again, and for a split second, the guarded walls they both carried felt thinner, more transparent. It wasn’t love at first sight, nor was it anything so easily defined. It was a recognition of something familiar in the other, something they couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore either.

Cece leaned back, resting her head on Yujin’s shoulder. “Well, they didn’t bolt, so that’s a start,” she said with a grin.

“Give it time,” Yujin replied. “They’re too alike not to drive each other crazy.”

Sohyun broke the silence, leaning back and crossing her arms again. “You’re not what I expected.”

Dio blinked, caught off guard. “What did you expect?”

“Someone… I don’t know. Flashier, maybe. Louder.”

Dio chuckled quietly. “Yeah, well, I get that a lot.”

Sohyun’s lips quirked upward, a fleeting smile. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Dio shrugged, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in response. “You’re not what I expected either.”

“Oh?” Sohyun raised an eyebrow. “What did you expect?”

Dio hesitated, his gaze dropping to the table. “Someone less… direct.”

For the first time, Sohyun laughed, a soft sound that seemed to surprise even her. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Cece and Yujin exchanged a triumphant look. The dance between Dio and Sohyun was slow and cautious, but to anyone paying attention, it was clear: they were circling closer with every step.

The atmosphere inside the pizza place was warm, almost stifling, for both Dio and Sohyun. They were too aware of each other, of every glance and every word exchanged. It was exhausting, and when Sohyun stood abruptly, Dio didn’t miss the flicker of discomfort in her expression.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, her voice steady, but her steps a little too quick as she headed toward the bathroom.

Dio watched her go, feeling the weight of the interaction pressing down on him. A moment later, he stood as well. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, following her path but veering off to the men’s restroom.

Cece and Yujin exchanged grins, utterly delighted. “Do you think they’ll survive the night?” Cece teased.

“Barely,” Yujin replied, grabbing another slice of pizza.

Dio leaned over the sink, gripping the edges tightly as he stared at his reflection. His heart was pounding in a way it hadn’t in years, his mind racing with thoughts of Sohyun. What was it about her? Her voice, her confidence, the way her guardedness mirrored his own—everything about her unsettled him, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

“Get a grip,” he muttered to himself. But it didn’t help. Her sharp eyes and faint, rare smile lingered in his mind, refusing to let go.

Meanwhile, Sohyun stood in the women’s restroom, pacing back and forth. She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. She wasn’t one to get flustered, but Dio was different. His calm exterior, the way his words seemed deliberate but never forced, how his presence felt both grounding and disarming—it was too much.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” she whispered, glaring at her reflection. She wasn’t supposed to be this affected. But no matter how much she tried to shove the thought of him away, his quiet intensity pulled her back.

When Sohyun stepped out of the bathroom, she almost collided with Dio, who had exited his own restroom at the exact same time. The hallway was narrow, their paths unavoidable.

Their eyes locked, and the air between them grew thick, almost tangible. Neither moved for a moment, caught in the unspoken tension.

“I—” Dio started, but his voice faltered.

Sohyun didn’t wait. She took a half-step closer, her gaze flicking to his lips for just a second before she leaned in. Her hands brushed against his chest as their lips met, and Dio, startled but unable to resist, kissed her back.

The kiss was brief but electric, a raw connection that left both of them breathless. When they pulled apart, Sohyun’s hand lingered on his chest for a moment before she stepped back, her guardedness returning like a shield slamming back into place.

“Give me your phone,” she said abruptly, her tone sharp but not unkind.

Dio blinked, still processing what had just happened. “Uh… yeah, sure.” He fumbled for his phone, handing it to her without question.

Sohyun quickly typed her number into his contacts and handed it back, her fingers brushing against his. “There,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “Now you have no excuse not to call.”

Dio managed a small, lopsided smile. “Right. No excuse.”

They stood there for another moment, neither quite sure what to say, before Sohyun turned on her heel and headed back to the table. Dio stayed behind, running a hand through his hair and letting out a quiet laugh.

When he finally returned to his seat, Cece and Yujin were waiting with knowing grins.

“What?” Dio asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“Oh, nothing,” Cece said, her tone dripping with amusement. “Just wondering how the bathroom break was.”

Sohyun rolled her eyes, reaching for her drink without a word, but the faint flush on her cheeks didn’t go unnoticed.

Yujin leaned into Cece, whispering just loud enough for Dio and Sohyun to hear, “Yeah, they’re definitely doomed.”

For Dio and Sohyun, the days after their first encounter were an exhausting mix of exhilaration and overthinking. Each date felt like walking a tightrope, the pull of their emotions threatening to topple their carefully constructed walls. They both approached the budding relationship like a puzzle, trying to piece together the other’s intentions while ignoring the obvious truth that their hearts were already far ahead of their minds.

Yet, despite their guardedness, the dates kept happening.

The second date was supposed to be casual—a late-night stroll through a nearby park, Yujin’s suggestion after much prying. But even in the quiet, moonlit setting, the tension between them was palpable. They spoke in measured tones, their words calculated to reveal just enough without straying into vulnerability. But their eyes betrayed them, lingering too long, softening in moments neither could quite ignore.

By the third date, they had started to fall into a rhythm. They met for coffee, their conversations dipping into more personal territory. Sohyun teased Dio about his serious nature, and he countered with dry humor that always earned him a rare, genuine laugh from her. It was intoxicating for both of them—this cautious dance that seemed to edge closer to something real.

But every night ended the same way.

They would return to Dio’s apartment, still guarded but unable to part ways just yet. One kiss would turn into another, and before they knew it, they were on his couch, lost in each other. It wasn’t just passion—it was the quiet intensity of two people who had spent so much of their lives holding back finally letting themselves feel, if only for a little while.

On their fourth date, Dio decided to push himself out of his comfort zone. They were sitting in his apartment, the remains of their takeout dinner on the coffee table, when he leaned back and took a deep breath.

“There’s something I should tell you,” he began, his voice hesitant.

Sohyun tilted her head, sensing the weight behind his words. “Okay,” she said softly.

“I’m unclaimed,” he said after a pause. “I don’t know who my godly parent is. I’ve been at camp for years, and… nothing. That’s actually how I became friends with Cece. She found me when I was struggling with it and helped me figure out how to keep going.”

Sohyun stared at him, her guarded expression slipping. The revelation caught her off guard—not because she judged him for it, but because it made sense. She could see now why Dio was so careful, why he carried himself with a quiet resolve that sometimes felt like armor.

Her heart softened, a warmth spreading through her chest. “That must’ve been hard,” she said, her voice gentler than usual.

“It was,” Dio admitted, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Still is, sometimes. But I’ve learned to accept it. Focus on what I can do instead of what I can’t control.”

Sohyun felt a pang of admiration for him. He wasn’t just guarded for the sake of it—he was protecting himself from years of unanswered questions and unspoken pain. It made her own walls feel a little less insurmountable.

Without thinking, she leaned in and kissed him. This time, it wasn’t just the usual pull of their attraction—it was an unspoken acknowledgment of the trust he had just shown her. When they pulled apart, her gaze was steady, though her heart was racing.

“Okay,” she said, her lips curving into a faint smile. “We’re a couple now.”

Dio blinked, caught off guard. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” she said firmly, though the softness in her tone betrayed her affection. “If you’re willing to open up, I should be too. Besides,” she added with a teasing glint in her eye, “I don’t kiss just anyone on their couch for hours.”

Dio chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Fair enough.”

Their minds might have been screaming at them to slow down, to keep their distance, but in that moment, their hearts won.

The next day Dio and Cece woke up early to spar.

As Cece geared up she asks Dio how things were going with Sohyun.

“Um it’s bizarre. We fit so well together.” Dio answers

Cece smiles and says, “I know when Yujin explained who she was I instantly thought of you,”

Dio smiles happily as he gets ready, “for that I’ll hold back a little today,”

Cece glared at Dio, “you better not. I have been training my speed to keep up so now with you now so hopefully my foresight can keep you in check,” for a moment Dio paused considering her word and wondered if her fore sight could account for the random nature of his kit. He shrugged it off as the headed to the combat floor

Sohyun leaned against the wooden railing surrounding the sparring grounds, her sharp eyes fixed on the two figures darting across the arena. Dio moved with a fluidity that was almost unsettling—like water adapting to the shape of whatever container it was poured into. He was relentless, his every motion brimming with intensity, as if sparring were more than practice for him. It was expression. It was freedom. She had

Sohyun watched her boyfriend with renewed interest she had heard stories of the hero who only used cursed weapons and items to fight with. Now seeing that in action made her understand the stories better. She knew Cecila was no slouch. Having done a few quests with Cecila and Yujin Sohyun knew Cece was gifted with precognition, Cece could predict every move her opponent made before they even thought to act. It was her greatest strength—and, Sohyun thought, an advantage most would find insurmountable. Yet here, with Dio, it barely seemed enough.

Dio reached into his satchel, pulling out a One piece TCG card depicting the character borsolino. Without hesitation, he slammed it against his chest, and a golden aura erupted around him. He dashed forward with blinding speed, wielding twin daggers that hadn’t been in his hands mere seconds ago.

Cece managed to sidestep the first strike, her own blade narrowly deflecting the second. “Really, Dio?” she huffed, her voice strained. “You’re using speed enhancement already?”

“Gotta keep you on your toes,” Dio shot back, grinning. He pivoted, flipping the daggers upward and pulling a broadsword seemingly from nowhere.

Sohyun’s breath hitched. She couldn’t look away. She had never seen her boyfriend so free so expressive even in their time alone, but she also saw the same focus and intensity that drew her to him in the first place. It was overwhelming in a good way. This is where Dio felt comfortable and it showed.

Dio didn’t just fight—he overwhelmed. Every move was calculated chaos, a barrage of attacks that seemed random but never wasted energy. He alternated weapons like changing gears, adapting to Cece’s every counter with a strategy that felt both improvised and infallible.

Cece blocked his broadsword strike but stumbled back as Dio reached into his satchel again, this time tossing a trap card onto the ground. A burst of flames erupted, forcing Cece to leap to the side.

“Seriously?” she yelled, now on the defensive.

Dio didn’t reply, but his smile widened. He wasn’t just fighting; he was having fun.

Sohyun couldn’t decide what unnerved her more: how fiercely Dio fought, or how much he enjoyed it. His movements were reckless yet deliberate, like he trusted his instincts in a way she couldn’t imagine doing herself. She could see why he was so intimidating in battle—he wasn’t bound by the need to plan or overthink. Every strike, every shift in stance, every weapon drawn from his arsenal was instinctive, a pure expression of his adaptability, but also a result of understanding. She watched how his eyes tracked his opponent setting up traps and modifying his weapons with magic that displayed such an exceptional knowledge that made the gaps in skill apparent. It made her understand what Percy or Annabeth meant when they would tell her. Trust in your gear and it will provide dividendsIt made her heart race in a way she wasn’t entirely comfortable with, but loved nonetheless.

“You’re doing that thing again, Dio,” Cece called out, blocking another strike but struggling to gain ground.

“What thing?” Dio replied, sliding back and drawing a crossbow. He fired a bolt infused with a glowing light, forcing Cece to duck behind her shield.

“That thing where you don’t stop,” Cece said, her breath heavy. “Ever.”

“You asked me not to hold back. Isn’t this what you asked for?” Dio teased, switching back to a smaller blade and charging forward.

She gripped the railing tighter as Dio unleashed another combination of strikes. He fights like he lives—decisive, and knowing. Watching him, Sohyun felt a pang of envy mixed with admiration. Dio seemed so free in the way he approached battle, as if he trusted himself completely. It was the opposite of how she approached anything. Every move Sohyun made, in life or in combat, was calculated, deliberate, weighed against potential outcomes. She couldn’t afford to be reckless.

And yet, here he was, defying every rule she lived by , but also greatly adhering to it.

Her chest tightened as he landed a near-impossible strike, forcing Cece to stumble and call a halt.

“Alright, alright, you win!” Cece exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “You’re officially the most annoying sparring partner ever.”

Dio laughed, lowering his blade and helping her up.

As Dio wiped the sweat from his brow and packed away his weapons, he caught Sohyun watching him. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Sohyun quickly averted her gaze. But not before Dio’s grin softened, something warm flickering in his expression.

“You’re up next, Sohyun?” he teased as he approached.

She crossed her arms, masking the unease his presence always seemed to stir in her. “I don’t think I have enough skill to keep up with you.”

He chuckled, standing a little too close. “You’d do fine. You’ve got that Nemesis blood—perfect for balance.”

She didn’t reply, her lips twitching into a faint, reluctant smile. Watching him fight had told her more about him than any of their guarded conversations ever could. Dio didn’t just fight with skill—he fought with his whole being, unafraid to put himself out there.

Sohyun wasn’t sure she could ever do the same, but as Dio lingered a moment longer before heading off, she realized she wanted to try.

“Okay but please go easy on me,” she said hesitant. Dio noticed this and his look softened into something Sohyun recognized from him more often. He contemplated and asked.

“Do you want me to coach you?”

Sohyun nodded relieved that she wouldn’t have to deal with his unrelenting assault and pressure.

Sohyun approached the training ground, summoning her magic spear, Night Spike, in a shimmer of dark, starlit energy. The weapon pulsed faintly, as if alive, and she settled into a ready stance, her feet firmly planted. Dio, standing a few paces away, studied her carefully, his eyes sharp but his expression relaxed.

“So,” he began, his voice steady and measured, “I know my style is quite different than most people you’ve probably faced, so I’m gonna ask a few questions about you beforehand.”

The tone of his voice caught her off guard. It wasn’t condescending or clinical; instead, it was confident, smooth, and… understanding. Yet beneath the surface, it carried a strength and certainty that sent a flutter through her chest. She tried to focus on her grip on the spear, but the warmth in his words lingered.

“Okay,” he continued, “first question: What’s your full godly lineage, and how much does it affect your combat potential?”

Sohyun blinked, taken aback by the directness of his question. Yet there was no judgment in his tone, only curiosity, as if he were inviting her to share something important rather than interrogating her. It was strange—how disarming his presence could be.

“My mother is Nemesis,” she said slowly, “and my grandmother is Nyx. My dad… he was a half-blood of hers.” She hesitated for a moment before finishing, surprised at how easily the words spilled out.

Dio nodded, his expression calm as he digested her response, though internally he reeled at the weight of her lineage. Nemesis and Nyx—goddesses of retribution and primordial night. It was no wonder Sohyun carried herself with such sharp precision. Still, he hid his reaction well, knowing that prying too deeply might push her away. Despite her apparent openness, he could tell she was still guarded—this wasn’t something she revealed to just anyone.

“Okay,” Dio started, his tone flat but not dismissive, before Sohyun interrupted.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “I’m feeling exposed. Could you… could you tell me a secret about you?”

Her request was calm, yet Dio could sense the vulnerability beneath it. It wasn’t just a question—it was a bridge she was building, inviting him to step across.

For a moment, Dio hesitated. Secrets weren’t something he parted with easily, and yet, looking at her—at the way her eyes held a flicker of trust—he realized she wasn’t asking out of curiosity. She was asking to feel less alone in her vulnerability.

“I feel like no one actually really likes who I am as a person,” he said, his voice quieter than before but no less certain. “They merely tolerate me because I’m beneficial to their life.”

The silence that followed was staggering. For a second, Sohyun didn’t know how to respond. She had expected something lighthearted, maybe even a little silly—anything to ease the tension of sharing her own truth. But this? This was raw. Honest. She wasn’t sure what stunned her more: the sadness in his words or the way he had trusted her enough to say them.

Her eyes widened as she noticed something behind him—a flicker of something ancient and sorrowful, like the shadow of a deeper truth he wasn’t ready to voice. Whoever his godly parent was, Sohyun thought, they must have been profoundly lonely. It made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“What’s wrong?” Dio asked, noticing the tear that slid down her cheek.

“Oh,” Sohyun stammered, wiping it away quickly. “I just… I wasn’t expecting that answer.” Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the swirl of emotions she was trying to suppress.

“Sorry,” Dio said softly, his brows knitting together. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” Sohyun cut him off, shaking her head. “Don’t apologize. I just… didn’t realize you felt that way.”

For a moment, their eyes locked, and Sohyun felt the weight of Dio’s words settle over her. She realized how much he had been carrying, how deeply his insecurities ran despite the confidence he projected. And yet, in his willingness to share that with her, he had given her something she hadn’t expected: a glimpse of his true self.

“You know,” she said quietly, her voice trembling but sincere, “I like you. Not because of what you can do or how you fight, but because of who you are.”

Dio blinked, caught off guard by her words. He searched her face for a hint of pity or insincerity but found none. Her expression was open, earnest—a mirror of the vulnerability she had just shown him.

“Thanks,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sohyun smiled faintly, her grip on her spear relaxing. For the first time, she felt the barriers between them begin to dissolve, replaced by something fragile but real.

“You ready ?” Dio asked, his tone lighter now, though his eyes still held that flicker of something unspoken.

Sohyun nodded, stepping into position. Sohyun adjusted her stance, her spear held firm and steady. Dio stood across from her, quietly observing, before reaching into his satchel and pulling out a weapon she instantly recognized. Her breath hitched at the sight. The air seemed heavier, the aura surrounding the blade unmistakable—a cursed weapon of legend, its name whispered even among gods and demigods.

“Where did you find that?” she asked, her voice sharp with disbelief, her gaze locked on the sword. Its name loosely translated to Sword of Unending Sorrow, and even looking at it felt like gazing into a storm of grief.

Dio tilted the blade, its dark edge gleaming faintly. “Cece and her friend Longinius found it during a quest. Cece thought it might be useful and gave it to me. She didn’t know it was cursed.”

Sohyun blinked, struggling to reconcile his casual tone with the weapon in his hand. “So why do you still have it?”

Dio exhaled slowly, as if anticipating the question. “Because I can use it.” He paused, the weight of his words settling between them. “I have this… weird interaction with cursed weapons. It doesn’t cancel out the curse entirely, but it changes the terms. Makes the tradeoff more potent.” He turned the blade in his hand, his expression unreadable. “For example, this sword would normally drain its wielder, hurting them with every strike to empower the attack. But with me…” He hesitated, glancing briefly at her before continuing. “If I hurt myself first—draw my own blood—it grants an even greater boost in power.”

Sohyun stared at him, the words sinking in. The concept was horrifying in its simplicity. “You’re saying… you have to wound yourself just to make it work?”

He nodded, his tone almost too matter-of-fact. “It’s not the first time I’ve done it. Sometimes a little pain is worth the outcome.”

Her gaze lingered on him, the pieces of his reputation—the “Cursed Hero”—falling into place in a way she hadn’t fully understood before. It wasn’t just his knack for surviving cursed artifacts or the way danger seemed to follow him. It was the sorrow he carried, a quiet, unshakable weight that she could now see etched into every line of his posture.

It wasn’t a curse. Not really. It was abandonment, isolation, and the constant sacrifice he made to be useful to others.

Her spear slipped from her grasp, the sound of its shaft hitting the ground startling in the silence. Before she could second-guess herself, Sohyun stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Dio froze, his body stiff against hers. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice uncertain, almost defensive.

“Just… let me,” she murmured, holding him tighter.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Sohyun could feel the tension in his shoulders, the reluctance in the way he kept himself at a distance even now. But then, slowly, he relaxed. His arms, hesitant at first, came up to rest lightly on her back as if he didn’t quite know how to reciprocate.

She tilted her head to look up at him, her voice steady but soft. “I won’t leave you.”

Dio’s breath hitched, his composure breaking like a dam giving way. His grip tightened, and a sob escaped him, raw and unguarded. Tears spilled down his face as the weight of years of loneliness and self-imposed burden crashed over him.

Sohyun held him, grounding him, anchoring him. She didn’t speak, didn’t try to offer words of comfort. She simply stayed, her presence unwavering, her embrace warm and unyielding.

Minutes passed, though it felt like an eternity. When Dio finally pulled back, his eyes were red, his expression a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, muttering, “Sorry. That was… I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” Sohyun interrupted, her tone firm but kind. She reached down, picked up her spear, and gave him a small, encouraging smile. “Whenever you’re ready, we can get back to training.”

Dio nodded, his voice steadier now. “Yeah… Thanks, Sohyun.”

Sohyun smiled as she turned to face him, her spear resting lightly in her hands. Dio stood a few steps away, keeping a respectful distance, his arms crossed as he studied her form.

“So,” he began, his tone thoughtful, “are you aiming to rely more on speed or power?”

Sohyun considered his words for a moment before replying, “Well, with Nightspike, it absorbs a portion of the damage I take from attacks, and then I can release that as a concussive force in my strikes.”

Dio nodded, his brow furrowed in thought as he eyed the spear. Its tip shimmered with the unmistakable dark sheen of Nightsteel—a material as deadly as it was rare. The weapon wasn’t just dangerous; it was borderline reckless in the wrong hands. He began circling Sohyun, his gaze flicking between her weapon and her stance.

As his eyes lingered a little too long, Sohyun felt a sudden rush of heat. Unable to resist, she quipped, “If you like what you see, you should take a picture—it’ll last longer.”

The shamelessly flirty tone caught Dio off guard, and he nearly stumbled over his own feet. “Ah, uh, I... wasn’t—” he stammered, his face flushing crimson.

Sohyun grinned, enjoying the rare sight of him flustered. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “I should stay focused. You’re taking time to help, and here I am, flirting.”

Dio cleared his throat, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “It’s fine,” he said, recovering just enough to add, “I mean, we are dating, aren’t we?”

Sohyun’s brows shot up, and she gave him a look of mock indignation. “Cheeky boy,” she drawled, her voice dripping with playful venom. “You know that, don’t you?”

Dio chuckled nervously, retreating a step. “Let’s focus on the basics,” he said quickly. “Show me a simple thrust.”

Sohyun obliged, stepping forward and channeling all her weight into a powerful spear thrust. Dio watched her closely, his serious expression returning as he gestured for her to repeat the motion.

“Okay, one more time,” he said.

She repeated the move, and Dio nodded before stepping closer, his tone turning instructional. “Here’s something to work on: when you thrust, try to isolate the muscles you actually need. Adding unnecessary movements will throw off your rhythm and timing. Let’s try again, this time with less hip and more shoulder.”

As he spoke, Dio gently placed his hands on her shoulders, guiding her through the movement. His touch was light, careful, and far gentler than Sohyun had expected from someone with his combat experience. Her heart skipped a beat at the contact, her skin tingling under his touch.

Dio, for his part, was hyper-aware of how close they were. His fingers brushed against the smooth fabric of her training top, and he couldn’t help but notice the warmth radiating from her. His pulse quickened, and he fought to keep his focus.

Sohyun, never one to let a moment of tension pass without teasing, tilted her head and smirked. “But what about when I thrust into you? I should definitely use my hips then, right?”

Dio froze, his mind scrambling for a response. “Uh... sure. Why not,” he said weakly, earning a low, melodic laugh from Sohyun.

She stepped back slightly, twirling her spear with ease, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Sorry, I’ll focus,” she said, though her grin betrayed her. “It’s just... you’re distracting when you get like this.”

Dio frowned, confused. “Get like what?”

Sohyun’s spear clattered to the ground as she closed the distance between them, her hands resting lightly on his chest. Her voice softened, turning serious for a moment. “So focused. So self-assured. It’s intoxicating, seeing you in your element.”

Dio’s breath caught as her words hung in the air, the teasing edge replaced by something far more vulnerable. Before he could respond, Sohyun leaned in, her lips brushing against his.

The kiss was tentative at first, a quiet exploration, but it quickly deepened as they gave in to the feelings they’d both been suppressing. Dio’s hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer, while Sohyun’s fingers tangled in his hair. For a brief, blissful moment, the world around them faded, leaving only the two of them and the electric connection they shared.

When they finally pulled apart, Sohyun smirked, her cheeks flushed. “So,” she said lightly, “was that distracting enough for you?”

Dio let out a shaky laugh, his own face burning. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though the fondness in his tone betrayed his words.

“Impossible,” Sohyun echoed, “but worth it.”

Dio couldn’t argue with Sohyun's confidence in him. She was his fiercest advocate, always quick to praise his strength and skill.

Before they could continue their practice, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the air.

"Hey, Sohyun! I've been looking for you. Where’ve you been?"

Amelia approached with her usual swagger, her fiery red hair practically ablaze in the sunlight. Her piercing gaze was locked on Sohyun as if Dio weren’t even there.

Sohyun sighed, already bracing for the inevitable clash. "I’ve been with my boyfriend, going on cute little dates. Why do you ask?"

Amelia stopped a few paces away, crossing her arms with exaggerated disbelief. "This loser? Really? You have a thing for weaklings like the Cursed Hero?"

Dio’s brow furrowed. Weakling? He’d beaten Amelia in sparring multiple times. She embodied the worst traits of the powerful—arrogance, entitlement, and a tendency to condescend to anyone who didn’t share her lightning-summoning pedigree.

Before Dio could speak, Sohyun shot back, "Dio’s not a loser! He’s stronger than you think. He beat a daughter of Odin not even an hour ago!"

Amelia scoffed. "Cecilia? Please. She’s as tough as a pillow princess. Her girlfriend Yujin’s the heavy hitter in that relationship. But if you’re so confident in him, how about this: let him face me in a duel. When I win, you have to go on a date with me."

Sohyun’s eyes narrowed, indignation flaring. "You think you can just come in here, insult my man, and get away with it? Hell no. We accept."

"Sohyun, wait—" Dio tried to interject, but his girlfriend’s fiery temper was already ablaze.

"Why are you so calm about this?" Sohyun snapped, her fervor rising. "She’s saying terrible things about you!"

Amelia smirked, sensing the discord and prodding further. "Yeah, Diogenisys, where’s your sense of heroism? Surely Jason taught you better than to back down from a challenge."

Dio stopped dead in his tracks, turning slowly to face her. His voice took on a sharp, dangerous edge. "What did you just say?"

Eight hours later

The training field was a sea of murmurs and anticipation. Demigods had gathered in droves, eager to see the clash between Amelia, the audacious daughter of Thor, and Dio, the enigmatic Cursed Hero.

Amelia stood at one end of the field, her hammer crackling with electricity, while Dio took his place at the other. His cursed blade rested at his side, its eerie glow pulsing faintly, as if attuned to his simmering anger.

Sohyun watched anxiously from the sidelines. She trusted Dio’s strength, but she’d never seen him this tense, this furious.

Amelia raised her voice for the crowd, her confidence dripping with derision. "You’ll see today why power matters. Without it, you’re just a speck, a nobody."

The duel began.

Amelia charged first, her hammer sparking to life as it arced toward Dio. He met it with his blade, the collision sending a deafening shockwave through the crowd. Each strike she delivered was swift and heavy, yet Dio parried every one with precision.

But as the fight dragged on, something began to shift.

Dio’s movements grew sharper, more forceful. The air around him thickened, taking on an oppressive weight. A dark miasma began to seep from his body, swirling and coiling around him like living shadows.

Amelia grinned, misinterpreting the shift. "Is that all you’ve got? Hiding behind your cursed toy? You’re pathetic!"

Her words stung, not because he believed them, but because of the sheer gall it took to belittle him after all he’d endured.

Dio snarled, his voice trembling with suppressed fury. "You think you’re strong? You don’t even understand strength. All you have is bravado and tricks."

He stepped forward, his blade slashing through the air. The miasma surged, lashing out and striking the ground near Amelia. She stumbled back, her smirk faltering for the first time.

"You dare challenge me with this... this paltry display?" Dio growled, his indignation erupting. "You don’t know what it’s like to fight for your place—to claw your way out of the shadows of the so-called worthy!"

The miasma erupted, enveloping him in a storm of blackened energy. The cursed blade’s glow intensified, bathing the field in crimson light. Demigods scrambled back as the suffocating aura expanded, a living testament to Dio’s unleashed fury.

Above the battlefield, the sky began to darken, unnatural clouds swirling ominously. The faint scent of decay hung in the air as a spectral figure materialized behind Dio—a woman with otherworldly beauty and an aura of unspeakable sorrow.

Diogenisys didn't notice however lost in a murderous rage spurred on by being looked down upon for too long. Sohyun watched his power swell the miasma thrashed around as it began rooting onlookers to their place and draining their life force as the part of the drowned place that resides within him finally made itself known.

The spectral lady approached Sohyun and said. “He trusts you. You have to help him. He can't think straight right now. His mind is gone,”

Sohyun nodded and approached Dio. A surge of power erupted from Dio, the miasma condensing into a focused storm of destruction. His eyes glowed with divine energy, and markings appeared on his skin like fissures of molten light.

But the power was too much. It spiraled out of control, lashing at the air and ground with reckless abandon. Demigods tried to flee but stood rooted, their initial excitement replaced by fear.

All except Sohyun.

"Dio," she called, her voice cutting through the chaos. She stepped forward, her spear at her side but unthreatening.

The miasma brushed against her but did not harm her.

"Dio, that’s enough," she said firmly. Her voice softened as she reached him. "You’ve proven your strength. Let’s get dinner."

Her words pierced through the storm of his rage. Slowly, the miasma began to fade, retreating within him. The oppressive air lifted, leaving Dio kneeling in its wake, trembling and breathless.

Sohyun knelt beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. "I’m here," she whispered. "You’re not alone."

The next day the tension in the Big House was palpable as Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Leo Valdez, and Piper McLean entered. Word had spread fast about Dio’s duel with Amelia, his powers spiraling out of control, and the ominous arrival of Izanami. The air was heavy with a mix of awe and unease, and it only grew thicker as the four seasoned heroes approached the table where Dio and Sohyun sat.

Dio stared out the window ready to be chewed out, his arms crossed, his face guarded. Sohyun sat beside him, her hand resting on his knee as a silent reassurance. Despite her calm demeanor, her eyes were alert, watching the demigods who had come to confront them.

Percy was the first to speak, his voice firm but not unkind. “Dio, what the Hades happened out there?”

Leo leaned against the wall, his trademark grin absent. “Yeah, man. One minute we’re hearing about a sparring match, and the next, the sky’s dark, people are talking about miasma, and there’s a literal death goddess in camp.”

Annabeth crossed her arms, her sharp gaze pinning Dio in place. “We’ve been through enough to know how dangerous uncontrolled power can be. You could have hurt people. You could have destroyed this camp.”

Piper’s voice was softer, but no less serious. “We’re not trying to gang up on you, but you need to understand—this isn’t just about you. When your powers go haywire, everyone here is at risk.”

Dio’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening as he avoided their gazes. “I didn't know this would happen. This is the first time something like this has ever happened,” he muttered, his voice low.

Annabeth pressed on, her tone exasperated. “No one asks for their powers, Dio. But controlling them is your responsibility.”

Before Dio could respond, Sohyun stood, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “He was in control—until someone decided to push him.”

The room went silent as Sohyun stepped forward, placing herself between Dio and the others.

“It’s easy to stand there and judge him,” she continued, her tone sharp. “But did any of you bother to ask why his powers went out of control? Or do you only care about the aftermath?”

Percy frowned, glancing at Annabeth before replying. “We’re trying to understand, but Sohyun—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice rising. “You don’t get to lecture him without knowing what he’s been through. Amelia provoked him—she called him a loser, unworthy, said horrible things about him. And you know what’s worse?”

Her eyes blazed with an unnatural light, and suddenly, the room seemed to shift. The air around Sohyun crackled, heavy with unseen energy. Percy stiffened, recognizing the signs of divine influence.

“Nemesis,” Annabeth whispered under her breath, her eyes widening.

Sohyun’s powers manifested fully now, her presence commanding. The room dimmed slightly, and shadows danced on the walls as if alive.

“She showed me something,” Sohyun said, her voice trembling with both anger and sadness. “She showed me everything Dio has endured. The mockery, the whispers behind his back, the way people look at him like he’s some kind of monster. Even his own family—”

Dio’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in alarm. “Sohyun, don’t—”

But the power of Nemesis couldn’t be stopped. Images flickered in the air like a cruel slideshow:

• A young Dio, barely more than a child, standing alone at the edge of a playground as other kids whispered behind their hands.

• A family dinner, tense and silent, his mother’s face pale as she avoided his eyes. His father muttered under his breath, “He came back wrong.”

• A moment of quiet despair, Dio sitting by himself in a darkened room, staring at his reflection as if searching for something he’d lost.

Sohyun’s voice cracked as she continued. “His family hates him. They think he’s… wrong because he almost died when he was a kid. Because Marwe saved him, rebirthed him as her son. And now they treat him like he’s some kind of… of impostor.”

The room was silent, the weight of Sohyun’s words settling over them like a suffocating blanket. Even Leo, usually quick with a joke to diffuse tension, looked solemn.

Dio’s voice was raw when he finally spoke. “I didn’t lose control because I wanted to hurt anyone. I lost control because I’ve spent my whole life fighting just to prove I belong—and people like Amelia think they can just rip that away with a few words.”

Sohyun turned back to him, her expression softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not anymore.”

Annabeth stepped forward cautiously, her tone gentler than before. “Dio… we didn’t know. About any of this. I’m sorry.”

Percy nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Look, we’ve all been through stuff. I know it’s not the same, but… I get what it’s like to feel like the odds are stacked against you.” He glanced at Sohyun. “And you’re right. We shouldn’t have jumped on you without understanding the full picture.”

Piper approached as well, her voice kind. “It’s not an excuse for what happened, but we’ll make sure Amelia faces consequences for provoking you.”

Dio nodded stiffly, still processing the sudden shift in the room.

Sohyun turned back to the group, her voice steady. “He’ll learn to control his powers. But if you want him to be a part of this camp, you need to stop treating him like a ticking time bomb and start treating him like one of us.”

Percy extended a hand toward Dio. “Deal?”

After a long moment, Dio reached out and shook it.

“Deal.”

[theromanticscrooge]

Professor Venomous, the Hot Mess in a Lab Coat

Note: If you haven't seen the entirety of O.K. K.O., please save this until after you've seen all the episodes. Even if the PV twists are obvious, he's a HUGE part of the ending and an important part of K.O.'s character arc.

POINT's origin in show starts when Silver Spark, El Bow, and Rippy Roo officially join the main team as junior members. Laserblast and Silver Spark immediately take a liking to each other and Laserblast comes up with convenient excuses for alone time with Silver. From what little there is of them on-screen, Silver is absolutely infatuated with Laser, partly because of his flashy attitude, his years of experience, the air of mystery around him, and definitely the confidence. These two were in the early, honeymoon phase of their relationship. El Bow's graphic daydream involving the weird sucker French kiss sequence tells the whole story: If these two weren't working, they were doing other things. Very often and very enthusiastically.

Besides tonsil hockey with Silver, Laserblast has a series of questionable projects he's been working on in a secret sandwich shop lair. Dr. Greyman, the brains behind POINT, discovered two of Laser's mysterious orbs and the consensus was "these were made by villains." When Laser suggests using them to stop bad guys, Greyman immediately shoots him down, citing that they're too dangerous for anyone to use. Greyman accidentally sets off one of the orbs and loses all of his powers. The new mission is find and apprehend the perpetrator. Laser prioritizes covering up his lair and experiments; he's more concerned about his image and standing than the well-being of his teammate.

When he goes with Silver and El Bow to scope out the sandwich shop, he insists on going first and alone. He puts on a show about how brave he is and promises Silver he'll be back. Then Laser enters the sandwich shop/lair and "disappears" into a blackhole. Silver is heartbroken and devastated. She blames El Bow for keeping her from potentially making it in time for that small possible window of opportunity to save Laser. This causes a rift in their friendship for years after. POINT unceremoniously drops El Bow and plants him as solely responsible for Laser's "death." After that, El Bow slowly finds new meaning and actualization as Mr. Gar; it's so painful for him to think about his past, he prefers to consider El Bow as dead as Laserblast is. Even after Carol has made peace with losing Laser, Mr. Gar is wracked with guilt and grief. He still blames himself and puts up a wall between himself and Carol despite her attempts to reach out or reconnect for a long time. In a nutshell, Carol becomes more emotionally mature, patient, and empathetic with time and introspection. She understands the importance of open, honest communication and that's what repairs, even strengthens, her relationship with Mr. Gar once he actually talks to her.

Laser made it out of the sandwich shop in time to avoid the blackhole and hides in a nearby storm drain. The evidence that he's responsible for the spheres is gone, but he hears Silver say "he wasn't powerful enough to get out." That comment is enough to seriously wound Laser's ego. He retreats, ashamed and feeling small and vulnerable. He's lost his powers. In his mind, he's nothing without his powers. He's too insecure to face Silver Spark or anybody else. The idea of her being more powerful; that she'd potentially push him out of the way or underestimate his abilities is something he can't bear. So, he starts desperately experimenting on himself and trying to regain his powers. He's connected so much of his self worth to how powerful he was that he doesn't know who he is without special powers. Until he can "regain his former glory," he refuses to return to POINT or his former life. And he doesn't trust Silver or anyone else enough to be vulnerable or weak in any way around them.

In a way, Laser's reaction to Silver can be roughly approximated to how toxic masculinity can affect how a man views himself. Men are supposed to be strong providers. They can't show any weakness. They're the the master; the cornerstone of the financial health and overall lifeblood of the household. When a man ties his all of his value to a specific personal trait, like how much money he makes or how strong he is, it's a threat when his partner makes more money than him or she's more proficient than him at "his thing." This single trait is such an important piece of his personhood that it pretty much is him. It's difficult to extricate that piece and figure out a healthier approach to who he is outside of that one trait. And he's not going to talk to his partner when she seems more like a rival than a friend.

For all intents and purposes, Laserblast- at least the idea of who Laserblast might have been-died. He becomes Professor Venomous; a respected, renowned villain that's a threat because of his scientific prowess and powerful because of what status and money he gains as a result. He's more satisfied and satiated as a villain than he ever was as a hero. The ideas that POINT balked at are celebrated and encouraged by his fellow villains. It's liberating. While Laserblast was a mask, Professor Venomous is the closest he's been to full self-actualization. It's not full self-actualization, but he's happier as a villain than he ever was as a hero.

Enter Fink. She's arguably the most important character and interpersonal relationship Venomous has. There's ample hints that Venomous rescued her from a rough life surviving by herself out in the streets. They call each other "Boss" and "minion" respectively, but it's just a title. Fink is his adopted daughter. When Fink talks about him, it's with strong respect, admiration, and affection. He's a patient, gentle parent at his best. He brings Fink to every event he's allowed to. He makes sure that Fink has what appropriate weapons or toys she needs at an outing. Out of everyone Venomous interacts with, Fink has seen and intimately knows the kinder, softer side of him. It's why she stands by him despite everything.

Despite their strong relationship though, Venomous still avoids bigger confrontations. He ran away from Carol and avoids the reality of K.O. as his son when he's Professor Venomous. So when Fink starts complaining, he throws expensive toys, video games, and gadgets at her to appease her. Usually, Venomous offsets these materialistic solutions with talking to her at her level or active parenting. Though, at the height of the later Shadowy Figure debacle, Venomous has completely given up when he uses gifts as the only means of interacting with Fink period.

This is speculation, but it's interesting that Venomous never actively talks about himself as "Dad" until it's a direct confrontation between Shadowy Venomous and K.O. Perhaps, Venomous uses a set of mental gymnastics to place some degree of separation between his father-daughter relationship with Fink and his nonexistent relationship with K.O. Fink is his minion. She's an important piece of his daily operations as a villain. As long as K.O. doesn't know or realize his true identity, Venomous didn't have to think about the fact that he abandoned his son. There's a lot of complicated baggage attached to a potential relationship with K.O. If Venomous wanted to successfully navigate how they could foster a father-son relationship or at least a friendly dynamic, it means he'd have to be more honest and introspective with himself than he's willing to.

Throughout the show, viewers are introduced to K.O.'s dark alter-ego T.K.O. T.K.O. is initially treated as a separate entity. He's angry, he's frustrated, he's angsty. He wants to watch the world burn as a means of catharsis and for his own entertainment. The truth is that T.K.O. is the manifestation of K.O.'s unresolved feelings about his absentee dad, always following the rules without intensely questioning why things work a certain way, questioning authority figures in general. It boils down to: T.K.O. is a personification of the existential angst that comes attached with K.O. growing up and becoming better acquainted with the workings of the world around him.

Shadowy Figure is introduced as Professor Venomous' equivalent to T.K.O. Venomous thought he was content with "power" accumulated through money and villainous feats. That was enough for a long time, but then Venomous reached the pinnacle of villainry. He had inventions like a giant death ray; an easy button for threatening the squeamish Congresswoman for obscene amounts of ill-gotten wealth. When Venomous started seeing there was more to Lord Boxman and his Snidely Whiplash-esque rivalry with Lakewood Plaza, he realized he'd been in the throes of ennui. Throwing his resources and talents behind Boxman re-ignited his love of villainry. Boxman knew how to take risks and have fun. Unlike other villains, evil wasn't a careful, calculated set of moves or a set of ideas that needed to be run through bureaucratic red tape. Boxman's attacks leveled up in a deeply gratifying way for both of them.

Yes, Venomous had a partner and lifestyle that were a fantastic fit for him. But he still hadn't confronted the trauma of losing his powers years ago. Consciously, he thought he had moved on, but really, he'd bottled up these feelings and resentment for so long they took on a life of their own. That's where the more active split between Venomous and Shadowy starts. Venomous' "former glory" isn't enough anymore. Now, it's a ravenous ghost that demands bigger, better, more terrifying; power that can match, if not more deeply fulfill, how long these feelings and dissatisfaction have sat untouched. When Shadowy looks at K.O., he sees a direct outlet for achieving his deepest desires.

"Power" is represented as a DBZ-esque energy source that can destroy planets or even the universe at large. It's simultaneously an in-show love letter to shounen battle nonsense while acting as an abstract stand-in for a parent living vicariously through their child. Shadowy Figure is the beginning phases of an overzealous parent pressuring their kid to become the sports star, the Harvard Law doctor, or any number of other concepts. The parent wasn't able to achieve this goal for whatever reason, but then they look at their child as a malleable lump of clay. The child is an extension of themselves; the last chance to achieve this dream the parent holds as their penultimate achievement. This dream is more important to the parent than everything; to the degree it supersedes the fact their child is an autonomous, independent being with their own wants, dreams, and needs for their life. The child has become a tool.

While there is still a degree of separation between Venomous and Shadowy, it's brief hope that he can catch himself and pump the brakes on how he's overstepping with K.O. When he outright calls himself Shadowy Venomous, he's completely surrendered to his need for power. Shadowy Venomous is the realization of who and what he thought he wanted to be. Its the means to a horribly self-destructive bender. He can do whatever he wants. Nothing is a challenge or threat to his self-esteem now because no one is more powerful. And if they are, he has a means to make himself greater.

K.O. has a solid support system between Carol and his adoptive family Mr. Gar, Enid, and Rad. Though, even with a solid support system, K.O. wanted some kind of relationship with his bio-dad Venomous. Parent-child relationships can be really complicated and messy. Even if a child has a fantastic mom and stepdad, the right combination of feeling unheard, misplaced, or having certain emotional needs unaddressed can make the originally absent parent appealing. Even if this other parent hasn't contributed as much, there's a want for their attention and validation. They're here now. They're trying now. They have something other loved ones can't offer. More importantly, it's a means to fill an existential hole in their life.

When K.O. takes a moment to acknowledge T.K.O. as part of himself that he's been grossly neglecting, he starts learning the importance of self love and that acknowledging and accepting his trauma is part of growing as a person. He's been able to empathize and show compassion for everybody else around him, but he refused to give himself the same kindness and patience. Shadowy Venomous exploited this. T.K.O. hoped that Shadowy would listen to and commiserate with him in a way nobody else was because Shadowy seemingly had a similar chip in his shoulder. They're mirrors of each other, right? That's what the wanton destruction and chaos were all about. When K.O. finally gives himself the consideration he needed, he realized that looking to Shadowy was never about him. It was only about being the convenient part that Shadowy needed. Shadowy was never interested in really reaching out and developing a meaningful connection with him.

Because of his self-reflection, K.O.'s relationships with his chosen family will be fuller and richer because he's including his inner voice as part of those intimate, heavy, vulnerable conversations with loved ones.

Despite Professor Venomous royally fucking up, the ending montage in the last episode shows he's not completely irredeemable. K.O. deliberately asks about him, too. At the very least, K.O. still cares about the Professor.

The President of the Universe gives Venomous a personal planet to destroy. In a way, that's Venomous finally confronting how much losing his powers years ago affected him. He has a healthier means to process his feelings around that sensitive subject and it's highly effective. He repairs his relationship with Fink; he's a more active parent than he was previously and encourages her interests more. There's a scene where he tells Fink he doesn't like video games and suggests she practices her piano scales while he's gone instead of further gameplay. Years later, he's enthusiastically cheering her on from the audience after she, presumably, became a professional gamer and won a gaming tournament.

Venomous also apologizes to Lord Boxman after their messy break-up during his spiraling as Shadowy Venomous. One sequence features a wedding ring. The bulk of these scenes are very fill-in-the-blank or connect the dots, but they're powerful. Seeing Professor Venomous with a wedding ring means that he learned how to have a vulnerable conversation with Boxman and that they trust each other enough to make that serious of a commitment. Previous scenes are very much coded as them having a gay romance and building a blended family as "business partners," but this cements it and cinches those last few parts of Professor Venomous' character arc. Its honestly beautiful how Venomous comes around to his equivalent of the healthy, satisfying life and family that Carol has between Mr. Gar and K.O.

A redemption arc isn't realistic for every person that fits a Professor Venomous mold, but its meaningful to see a character like this work on himself. As an older fan, its appreciated how much attention and care are given to found family for all of these characters in a variety of situations and circumstances.

[foxs0x]

I've been trying to roleplay Vicentije better now that I've fleshed him out more during my fanfic. It’s been interesting to explore how his choices differ from my last playthrough and how his character has evolved.

More thoughts below the cut 👇

For example, he killed Oda. It wasn’t something he relished, but Vicentije operates on a “kill or be killed” mentality. In Night City, there’s no room for mercy or idealism. In V's words, "that's some gonk-ass shit!". It’s purely about survival. He told Takemura as much - that Oda was a loose end. It was a ruthless and cold decision, and while he didn’t feel good about it, he also felt it was necessary.

When Arasaka soldiers and Adam Smasher stormed the abandoned apartment to take Hanako back, Vicentije didn’t try to save Takemura. The truth is, he never fully trusted him. He liked Takemura, but in the end, Takemura’s loyalty to Arasaka was a red flag he couldn’t ignore. After all, Takemura was Saburo’s bodyguard! Vicentije couldn’t bring himself to risk everything for someone still devoted to Arasaka, when they're ruining his life and the lives of many others.

Vicentije feels terrible about Takemura’s death, though. The growing body count around him is a weight he carries every day.

One question lingers in his mind, though. Was he always this capable of being so ruthless? Or is it the result of Johnny’s influence infecting his personality?

At this point, he realises the line between who he is, and who Johnny is, feels increasingly blurred.

As for his appearance, Vicentije was always flashy, before the Tower ending. He took pride in his cyberware and loved being noticed for his looks. Handsome and confident, he dyed his hair often, wore makeup, showed off his tattoos, and had more clothes than what he knew what to do with. But everything changed after the coma. His hair is back to its natural brown, his Kiroshi optics are replaced with synth-ganic hazel eyes — the same color he was born with — and he traded his style for a much simpler look, deliberately avoiding anything that might make him stand out.

His story in End Transmission is about rediscovering his confidence without cyberware or being a mercenary.

In this roleplay, it's obviously set before all that, but it's leading into it. V is desperate, cunning and ruthless to his enemies. To his friends, he will drop everything to help them, however.

[stormbreaker101]

Humans are hard to draw so I made the Color Gang + Purple from AvM in Wizard101 instead.

No actual gender headcanons for any of them, I just wanted to mess with the different models. Making them all the same gender in-game would be boring to me. plus, I havent messed around with the masc models as much, since all the characters I play on are girls.

I did put thought into their schools, names, and outfits though :3 All under the cut

Second's ability to make living drawings instantly led me to either Life or Myth for them. I chose Life for them because they have a rather chill disposition and is often the one cleaning up or otherwise dealing with the shenanigans that their more energetic friends get into. Also their supersaiyan powers in are consistently green, and green is the main color of the Life school. Lastly, Second is the first one to use music as a way to communicate with others (in the Warden EP), and Life magic is closely tied to the concepts of music, as it was canonically derived from the Song of Creation that made the Spiral. "Seth" as a name is really close to Second while also being a regular name, and "Museborn" is a reference to the fact that they were hand-drawn as c!Alan's character, AND that they were made in the image of another muse of his, Chosen.

Red strikes me as someone who was originally a conjurer (Myth), but later their magic shifted to necromancy (Death). Red's primary interest is in animals and creatures, often spawning them in with spawn eggs. This ties very closely to one of Myth magic's primary mechanics, summoning minions. Their magic became Death after being possessed by Herobrine multiple times, because I for one love when a person's magic changes thanks to the trauma they endure. Both the schools of Myth and Death are rather tanky but hard-hitting schools that can opt for an all-offensive playstyle rather easily, which fits Red's combat. "Beastwhisper" is a reference to their aptitude for working with mobs, and I just picked "Aidan" as a firstname because it sounded cool. The yellow band on their hat is for the headband they got in the Monster School episode, and the blue trim on their robe is to represent Herobrine, and the continued influence he has on them even when not in Minecraft.

Yellow reads peak Balance wizard to me. Balance is in-canon considered to be one of the more advanced schools of magic, and was intended by the developers to be one of the best support schools, able to buff any of their teammates. The "technical difficulty" aspect of Balance fits Yellow's expertise in tech, coding, & command blocks, and I've noticed that while Yellow certainly is a competent fighter on their own, they tend to use their command block staff to support others and not just themself. "Amber" as their firstname for the color, and "Copperweave" for their surname as a reference to actual computers being made with copper wires. The red on their robe is for redstone, I imagine their clothes are often stained with it.

Green is quintessential Diviner (Storm wizard). Like, they're not just a Stormie, but a Wolf Stormblade at that. Storm is THE glass cannon of Wizard101: strong and bright and flashy and the center of attention, but also fragile and flighty and prone to be blindsided. Additionally, Storm is seen as the magic of creativity, which perfectly fits with Green's skill in buildbattles and their musical interest. Their surname "Goldensong" represents this musicality, but also their constant struggle for perfection. "Jaden" as their first name because it sounds close to the color jade. (There really aren't any good masc firstnames in Wiz that start with G, sorry guys). Their robe is green and yellow because that was a preset outfit, but also it fits their name well.

Blue reads as a pyromancer (Fire wizard) to me primarily because of how Fire magic works in-game. Fire's primary mechanic is dealing gradual damage over time, which is the best way I can translate Blue's tendency to fight at a distance into Wizard101 logic. Additionally there is a Fire school spell that features a magical archer, a Fire Elf in particular. Fire magic also has the connotations of crafting and cooking, which fits Blue's expertise as the potionsmaster and chef of the group. I chose "Chelsea" as their firstname because the sea is blue (I first made these sticks while farming a boss over and over, slowly falling asleep and losing my mind :p), and "Glassarrow" to represent the two main ways they fight (potions in glass bottles & archery). Also, I enjoy playing around with connotations and expectations. Glass is fragile, but its shards are sharp and dangerous. Blue is definitely the most sensitive and emotional of the Color Gang, but they can certainly whoop ass. Don't underestimate them.

Purple is a character who is above all else resilient and a survivor by any means necessary, which I read as being very Ice. Ice is meant to be the tankiest school, able to withstand everything that's thrown its way, but it struggles with dishing damage back. This makes many people who play Wizard101 consider it a "weak" school and turn a blind eye to its best attributes. This fits Purple's arc to a T to me: someone who could never fulfil Navy's standards of being 'strong', but survives regardless and finds a new group of friends who can begin to appreciate them for them (yknow, once they start to be honest). Plus, in old Wizard101 lore, Ice magic was made by the Giants who ruled the skies, and Purple is an incredibly skilled flier. I picked the firstname "Patrick" because it was the best P name out there, and "Steelwing" for their steel-gray elytra and because steel carries the connotation of strength and resilience. They're primarily in the lighter shade of purple available in Wizard101 to represent their closeness to Rose/Orchid/Pink, and the dark orange band on their hat represents their closeness to Mango Tango.

[grimalkinmessor]

I finally sat down to take a look at the flowers in the season 3 intro, and I found some,,,,INTERESTING things.

So first off, here's Reigen's card for reference:

(And let me just reiterate that I'm not a botanist or anything so there might be some misidentification on some of these, but correct me if I'm wrong on the flower types!)

The biggest ones on Reigen's eyes seem to be cranesbills, or wild geraniums. Specifically the ground cover variant as it has more stamens and blooms more in pinks than blues or purples. (Yes I did also consider cherry blossoms here, but the petals seem to be too small and too far apart for cherry blossoms. It could also be peach blossoms but the petals shape isn't right. Still, just in case; the most common meanings for cherry blossoms are love and "life is fleeting"). Cranesbills tend to symbolize loyalty and fidelity, as well as reliability and the ability to endure and adapt. In Victorian flower language though they sometimes represent folly and foolishness. RIP Reigen lmao. But pink geraniums themselves symbolize gentle affection and a growing love that has yet to be announced :)

With that in mind, I'm pretty sure the small cluster of pink flowers behind his ear are also geraniums instead of hydrangeas likes I originally thought—just of the more popular garden variety. Like he puts up a pretty front on the outside but inside is more gentle and less flashy :3

Now I THOUGHT I recognized the blue flowers as anemones, but their petal structure is different to the ones shown here so I'm much more unsure on this one. I'll add it in anyway though because I think it fits :)

"...blue anemone flowers are often associated with expectations and anticipation. They symbolize the promise of a brighter tomorrow and the hope for a better future. The blue anemone flower is believed to hold a special energy that can help lift your spirits and bring about feelings of joy and contentment.

...blue anemone flowers are thought to bring a sense of calm to those who are feeling anxious or overwhelmed. They are believed to offer protection and guidance during times of change and uncertainty.

...[they] are often used in meditation practices to enhance spiritual awareness and intuition. They are believed to help individuals connect with their inner selves and tap into their subconscious mind. The blue anemone flower is also associated with the throat chakra, which is believed to govern communication and self-expression." (source)

Now who does that sound like? 👀 There are a few other meanings there as well that fit, but another popular one is longing for your beloved and mourning. Another fun meaning in Reigen's picture specifically is that anemones close their petals when rainstorms approach; meaning that while the petals don't match exactly, it might very well be because they're closing. Like in anticipation for a storm :)

The little purple flowers ALSO seem to be half closed, which makes them that much harder to identify (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) I think they might be matsumoto asters given the color of them and the number of petals, but the size on the card is throwing me off a little. Still, in hanakotoba asters usually mean "I will not forget you", as well as being used frequently in memorials for the dead. In more European flower language asters represent the attraction of love, patience and wisdom, fidelity, charm, hope, valor, and farewell.

Then of course, the last two—the daisy and the rose. White roses symbolize innocence, silence, and devotion in hanakotoba. Sometimes they also symbolize death as they're also used in funerals and for mourning. The daisy however is also used in Mob's card, so I'll plonk that in here too and do that one first in between them :D

White daisies symbolize innocence, rebirth, and new beginnings. They've also been known to symbolize true love and loyalty. They're also part of the sunflower family!

As you can see above, Mob's card has quite a few more daisies than Reigen's, but I think that's because in season 3 the whole idea is centered around Mob's "rebirth", as it were. That, and in Victorian times it was popular for lovers to use daisies to send messages back and forth, and while an intact daisy means innocence, a daisy with a certain number of petals plucked is used to say either "love me" or "love me not". They're the origin of that ritual, apparently :3 Which is appropriate here because Mob's confession is essentially wondering whether or not Tsubomi will like him back—and the last flower in his bouquet that makes it out is a sunflower :) Which daisies are apart of :)

The flowers on Mob's eyes look like red chrysanthemums, but again considering the placement of the shadows in the middle I can't be completely sure. But while hanakotoba doesn't have a specific meaning for red chrysanthemums, white chrysanthemums and chrysanthemums in general mean honesty, royalty, and truth. In other flower languages, red chrysanthemums represent love at first sight, fidelity, and deep passion and emotions. It was also apparently a symbol for the Japanese emperor and imperial family, so do with that what you will.

On the left are a couple of hot pink roses, which symbolize gratitude and appreciation, as well as a sense of strength and conviction. And, something our boy Mob desperately needs: "Some believe that pink roses can facilitate emotional healing, encouraging forgiveness, self-love, and gratitude." 🙏

The ones on the bottom right are harder to see but I'm pretty sure they're daffodils, which have a lot of similar symbolism to daisies in that they're spring flowers that represent cheer, rebirth, and new beginnings. Daffodils also represent self-love/self-care in some cases though, because of the story of Narcissus. Something else our dear Mob desperately needs :') Though in hanakotoba, daffodils mainly represent deep respect, particularly for those older than you. Their japanese name also literally means "hermit by the water", which is,,,,,interesting.

Reigen seems to have more kinds of flowers than Mob, but Mob's flowers match his color scheme moreso than Reigen's do. I've said it before but it bears repeating; Reigen's flowers actually seem to follow Tsubomi's color scheme more than his own. The pink, the blue, the purple, the white... I don't know, I think it's interesting :3

If you've got any additions or corrections let me know!

[pawseds]

Interview with Claretta Tedyono 1: Feel the Music

TORONTO, 2011: “Ms Tedyono, before we explore your new album, I’d first like to ask you about your single. It’s very unusual to release a single in the classical world, especially for solo violin. How’d that happen?”

C: By chance! I was already playing around with making variations on the Indonesian song ‘Tanah Airku’ when producers approached me to make a single. I was like, why not? And please, call me Claretta.

“Of course. Did you choose ‘Tanah Airku’ as your theme due to your background?"

C: Oh, not at all. I know the song because of it, but I chose it because it’s simple. That’s all!

“I wouldn’t call it simple based on your single!”

C: [laughs] It originally is, trust me!

“I’ll believe it when I hear it. [laughs] Why compose variations in the first place?”

C: After the coma, I had to adjust to my new disability. Having to relearn basic things is so, argh! It’s frustrating and honestly, embarrassing! That’s how the variations came in. It’s hard to not think about my past skills. I needed a fresh slate to relearn advanced techniques, so I made my own études!

“Why a simple theme?”

C: It’s humbling. Flashy pieces let you achieve great sound with less precision. But with, say, Bach or Mozart, their deceptively simple pieces expose every single mistake you make. So the variations help me be patient and not take shortcuts.

“Were you inspired by other études?”

C: Yes. I’ve always wanted to learn Ernst’s ‘The Last Rose of Summer’, one of the hardest violin pieces. My variations are my first step towards that. I tried to keep the mood equally bright and sweet.

“Is that what inspired your single’s name?”

C: Not quite. Many bad things happened from high school to my late 20s. It still haunts me at 30. But like how my paralysis affects but doesn’t define my music, trauma becomes a part of you but doesn’t have to define you. You deserve to be happy, to heal. And you learn this, though hard, by being kind to yourself despite everything: The Sweetness in the Storm.

“Lastly, ‘Last Rose’ has 4 variations but you made 16. Why?”

C: Ha! In Chinese, 4 is unlucky because it sounds like ‘dead’. I’ve cheated death 4 times. 4 times 4 is…

---

Originally for the TopOC contest on Instagram in 2023, in which each rounnd prompt has a drawn and written segment. I decided to make all the written segments connected to each other.

First | Next Read more about the TTRPG campaign she came out of!

[insertsickusername13]

ahem. After some deep introspection, I have decided it is long past time to share the details of my absolutely horrid pjo au. Long post, I apologize, but I've been dramatically playing sudoku while plotting this out for far too long and the world simply must know every terrible thought I've been thinking. I start by giving all their godly parents then I just list off awesome little headcanons/scenes. there's no plot. it changes daily, depending on my sudoku game.

Godly parents:

Jeremy Heere - Apollo. I've seen a lot of content of him as a son of Demeter and honestly, half of me agrees with you. But when I put him into the actual plot, he always ends up playing the role of an Apollo kid. His social anxiety means he prefers fighting from a distance (archery) and I always imagined him as the healer of the group. Not in a metaphorical or emotional sense (that's Brooke), just that Jeremy can find his friends after the battle and help them. This also fits with my personal headcanon that Jake and Jeremy dislike each other---of course they do, Jeremy needs Jake to trust him in order to properly treat him, and Jake hates that this acquaintance expects Jake to trust him.

Michael Mell - Hades. He's interested in 'dead' trends. Ha, get it? Right? No, but also the fact he's a loser and has just come to accept it. People won't let him into their groups no matter how sweet he is because there's something about him that just doesn't fit in, and that's the fact he will gladly tread on the edge of death. He controls it. (the dead trends is the main thing tho ngl)

Christine Canigula - Poseidon. I know technically Dionysus makes more sense, but despite what many may think, I actually associate her more with the ocean than I do anyone else. She's dramatic, she's breathtaking. She can destroy you if she so pleases, but by god she doesn't want to. She's gentle and blue and beautiful. Most importantly, though, she reflects. She reflects the stars in the night sky like she reflects Ophelia's sadness. She reflects the adrenaline rush a surfer desires just as she reflects the desperation and adventurous youth in Juliet.

Rich Goranski - Zeus. Two reasons: Instinctively my brain went to Ares and Hephaestus, but no. Absolutely not. Hephaestus is an absolute no because Rich is not the fire Rich is not the fire Rich is not the fire. Ares is a bit more questionable because, in the pjo world, Ares is pure anger and spite and ego and his kids tend to reflect the same personality traits and god, Rich already does that in the canon world. It's implied his father is abusive and you know what? This is an au. I'm still giving him a shitty father but I am not giving him Ares, the god of War. I chose Zeus because a) plot. His being able to fly is incredibly important to many, many scenes in this mental fic and b) I like the idea of him holding the aura of a king. Not necessarily a leader, that's Jake, but he can walk with a self-entitlement that drives you to trust him even as he's rash and dangerous. His feelings are lightning bolt strong; quick, breathtaking, deadly, flashy. Storms follow him when he's sad and thunder roars when he's angry. He doesn't crave violence in the way a kid of Ares would, but he often ends up causing it anyway.

Jake Dillinger - Aphrodite. This one's always been obvious to me. Jake's main thing is charm---I mean, Model UN, talking his way into a relationship with Christine. He's well-liked and hot. His parents being criminals in the canon world means he's probably accustomed to lying and twisting others' words against them. AKA, he talks and seduces so no one will see his flaws or insecurities, just as any kid of Aphrodite learns to do. Also I did give him charm speak and I took away the whole thing about needing to be attracted to him for it to work because Jake's got that kind of charm where adults like him too much (not in a sexual way, I mean in a he's just so easy to deal with kind of way) and I feel like he'd just make it work on anyone. (also you'll see why Chloe isn't the kid of Aphrodite in a moment)

Chloe Valentine - Unclaimed. I already posted about this a while ago. She already grew up insecure but loud. Then she got to camp and paraded around the fact she was probably a kid of Aphrodite or Zeus for weeks. No one claimed her. She stayed in the Hermes cabin even as she integrated herself into the Aphrodite crowd, painting herself to be beautiful and snarky until people began to forget she was just an unwanted kid. She lashes out to hide it, sure, but it's mostly because she feels so isolated and alone, and she's convinced that if she screams loud enough, bites hard enough, that her victims will feel the same terrible loneliness she does. Realistically, she's probably a child of Hecate.

Brooke Lohst - Athena. I think it's probably the blonde thing, but I'm going to pretend it's not. I've always imagined her as so introspective and deep. You can look at her and just know there's so much more going on underneath the surface. She knows you and she knows herself more than you could ever hope to. People often forget how smart she is because, for starters, she's always overshadowed by Chloe. Mostly, though, it's because she's so soft. She lacks the pride of most Athena kids. She'll smile like sunlight and laugh like wind chimes and flit from place to place like a breeze-blown cherry blossom dancing to the ground. Her? A strategist? A warrior? It doesn't make sense until you hurt someone she loves. She honed that sweetness. She fought for it. She bled to make sure her friends experienced that gentle kind of love and if you take that from them she will trick you into tearing yourself limb from limb and she will smile as you do it.

Jenna Rolan - Hermes. Duh. She's a messenger, she's a traveler. Important note about travelers, though, is that the second they leave, their existence is usually forgotten. She walks into a room, declares her purpose and her message, and the second she steps out it's as if she was never there. Is it because she's fast? Because she never tells details about herself, only others? You don't know. She doesn't know---no mater how many nights she overthinks it and questions it, she doesn't understand why she's nothing but a shadow to everyone else.

Favorite Headcanons:

the main reason Rich is a son of Zeus is because I have a very clear image in my head of the eight of them on the Argo II or this au's version of it and the scene starts with Jake just barreling down a hallway and onto the main deck screaming his ass off and Jeremy's chasing after him, red-faced and angrier than anyone has ever seen him and Jake yells Rich's name and then just. Jumps off the ship and into the clouds. Ofc Rich like summons a cloud to catch him, and in the distance you can hear Jeremy, who just found out Jake hooked up with Michael their second night on the ship, "YOU CAN'T HAVE THEM BOTH. NO. IT'S NOT FAIR. ONE OR THE FUCKING OTHER. YOU CANNOT HAVE EVERY SINGLE PERSON I LIKE JAKE WHY????"

Oftentimes being a demigod comes with trusting only yourself, which means Jeremy has to work hard to get any of his patients to really come to him when they're injured and in this world, everyone was kind of separated before into groups (either two or three) and jake and rich were together so there's obviously a level of trust between them Jeremy simply can't get between, and at one point Chloe gets injured and Brooke tries to take care of her (stealing medical supplies from Jeremy) but, despite being smart, she's not a medic, and at it's the middle of the night and Brooke shows up at Jeremy's room with a half-unconscious Chloe in her arms begging for help and of course, Jeremy provides it, but then he just. Goes fucking off on Brooke. And it's so important because Jeremy is quiet and anxious, but "I am the medic here. I can take care of him. No, no, it's not just that I can. It's an obligation. it's my fucking job, Rich. That is all I can bring to this team. I'm a fucking coward. I would rather die than put myself into a battle, so it's my fucking job to pick up the pieces when you all come back bruised and battered, and you stole that from me. You took all I had left. If she dies, that's on me. Only me. It doesn't matter if he was in your care or someone else's, it's my job." Anywho, after that they routinely check up on Jeremy to make sure he's mentally okay.

Everyone capitalizes on Christine's ability to talk to fish just because it's so entertaining. They're in the middle of a quest but they're all so exhausted they stop at an aquarium and spend six hours sitting in front of a single tank of lame fish while Christine acts out the conversations between them and they're all deliriously relieved to be there.

Jake, Brooke, and Rich are the most dangerous team to go up against. Brooke can think of the right plan, the right words for Jake to say, and Jake can say her words to charm speak their enemy into destroying themselves. And Rich is there to physically support them both---Jake can always jump slightly too high because the wind is on his side and Brooke is slightly faster than her opponents because, for some reason, air resistance doesn't apply to her.

I noted earlier that they were all separated into small groups at the beginning and were forcibly united for their quest. Jenna was the only one of them alone, and Christine and Brooke both work so hard to eventually make her feel welcome on the ship with everyone else

So Jake is a child of Aphrodite, right? at one point there's a mini-quest they have to go on and the group decides it's smartest for Michael, Jake, and Jeremy to go. Jake immediately turns to Chloe with puppy dog eyes like "PLEASE, CHLOE, PLEASE TAKE MY PLACE" and she's like dude. no. no one likes being alone with them, it's barely even third wheeling. they make you feel like you aren't even a wheel. and Jake's like "YOU THINK IT'S BAD FOR YOU?? I'M A CHILD OF APHRODITE, CHLOE, I CAN PHYSICALLY FEEL THE PINING BETWEEN THEM" and that's how Chloe is convinced to go on a quest alone with Jeremy and Michael. It's miserable.

Jake won't charm speak his friends, which is why he had to actually convince Chloe to go on that quest. The reason why is so sad and traumatic I'm not going to add it to this post because most of these headcanons have been relatively amusing, but it's bad enough that on some days he's selectively mute (that's the right term, right?) just in case he accidentally charm speaks one of them. He and Rich can communicate in rudimentary sign language.

Rich is most skilled at fist fighting. Like yeah, he could use a sword or knife, but he's super super dangerous just with his fists.

And finally, because it's 11:15 and I have a test tomorrow: Brooke had a crush on Christine for the longest time and I have a very clear image in my head of them hanging out together under the argo II on the ocean under the stars and Brooke hesitantly confesses her feelings and Christine rejects her because she's ace and heteroromantic but she still hugs Brooke and is the sweetest person ever about it. She checks up on Brooke, lets Brooke set all the boundaries between them, and eventually, after a month or so, Brooke has to be like "Christine, I'm okay. I had a crush on you, I wasn't in love. You can stop now." and Christine is so fucking happy because she's been trying to distance herself from Brooke to give her time to heal and now she can have one of her best friends back!!!

[howdywrites]

Tall Handsome Stranger - Yeehawgust 7

Part of Yeehawgust 2023

[ WIP intro ] [ my Yeehawgust tag]

Summary: Caleb Caldwell descends upon Goldridge with promises and lies. (he is the primary villain in my WIP)

Warnings: descriptions of violence, blood, arson, and death

Word Count: 460~

The devil made his home in Goldridge on a pretty spring day. He wore a fine linen suit, perfectly tailored to his willowy frame. The shadows seemed to kneel before him wherever he walked, his stride purposeful and movements graceful. Cunning eyes bore into every person they met, seeing into the depths of their soul.

“I’m here to make you a deal,” he declared, standing before the town mayor. He held his hat between his fingers, dark hair perfectly coiffed on top of his head. The devil flashed this perfect smile, showing off his pearly whites and dimpled cheeks. 

He promised to make something out of Goldridge - a paradise of rivers teeming with gold. He promised to turn water into wine, dirt into oil, and set the citizens of Goldridge up for generations of wealth and influence. The mayor, with his rose tinted glasses and naivete, eagerly got to work drafting a contract over some cold whiskey and steak. He bargained with the devil through the wee hours of the night, their close friends enjoying themselves in the bustling saloons and at poker tables.

Before any contract could be signed, gunfire rang out from the mayor’s home. The sound pierced the quiet night air of Goldridge. Then another shot rang out, taking the sheriff to an early grave.

By the break of dawn, an entire posse of the devil’s men stormed into the small West Texas town. Most of the townsfolk had little time to prepare. By the time many of them picked up their guns, one of the demons would strike them down.

“Spare the women,” the devil told his men with a sly smile, tossing the torch into the little white chapel just beside the general store. The flames engulfed the wooden structure, licking the steeple and busting out the stained glass windows. “String up the men for all I care.” 

By noon that day, more than half of Goldridge lay dead in the streets. Blood pooled in the trenches made by horse hooves. The chapel, along with the general store and a few homes continued to burn, the smoke billowing into the pretty blue sky above. The survivors cowered, holding one another. Their stomachs lurched every time another shot from a pistol went off. The devil marched across the veranda of the dead mayor’s home, wearing a pristine white suit with flashy gold buttons. He smiled down at the women his crew rounded up, a cruel edge in his pale blue eyes. 

“Fear not,” he spoke, his voice as smooth as ice. “You’re under the protection of Caleb Caldwell now. Your salvation begins here.”

Goldridge was reborn in a matter of hours, screaming and bloodied like a newborn babe, with its devil masquerading as its savior.

-

Taglist: @draculinawrites @rosesonneptune

[equalseleventhirds]

oh would u all like another bit i wrote for creative writing homework? the assignment was 'write a nonlinear/fragmented narrative' and i had a blast with it.

(currently entitled 'One last chance to be a hero' bcos on god am i bad at titles)

- - -

      In spite of everything, the world does not end. It's touch and go for a little while, no one really sure if the heroes will succeed—but they do. They battle against the strange forces threatening the world; they push back the encroaching destruction; and they die noble, meaningful deaths.

      They save the world. Everyone else has to live in it.

- - -

      The day before the end of the world (projected), the hero Peregrine watches TV with her girlfriend, both of them snuggled up on their old green couch. They're so lucky, really, to live somewhere broadcasts can still get through. So lucky to have this together.

      "Why do you have to go?" her girlfriend whispers against her shoulder.

      "The whole world, Laine." Their argument is too well-worn to be angry, familiar words spoken in a ritual of love, of misery. "We have to."

      "But why do you have to go, Beckett?"

      "Because I'm a hero. I have to be a hero. Even if this is my last chance." A smile, a hand through her beloved's hair. "Promise to wait for me?"

- - -

      The world is saved, but it is strange. The ground warps and reshapes itself. The ocean rises in endless storms.

      Humanity survives, as best they can, as humanity always has.

- - -

      In conference rooms around the world, men in suits hem and haw over stopping the world from ending. But the expense, is the refrain. Think about the economy. If we spend it all now, how can we help the survivors later?

      It is determined that the resources of the men in suits are too valuable to use now. They lock them away underground, in the reinforced rooms the men will hide in themselves. Nowhere safer.

- - -

      "Sorry to ask you to help out again," the clinic doctor says. "I don't know why these machines keep acting up, but they seem to behave themselves with you."

      Laine smiles. She's good at smiling, even if she can never manage a laugh anymore. "I've always liked electronics," she says.

      The doctor holds the door open for her. "And we're lucky to have you around. God knows the government offices would love to snatch you up instead, the knack you've got for tech."

      "Oh, I'd really rather..." She stops in the doorway—just for a second—until she can breathe again. It's been months, now, but she's still not used to seeing her old couch in the clinic.

      (Their old couch. When the community association had come around asking for donations, she couldn't wait to give it away, as though it would take all her memories with it. When they showed up with a pickup truck, she stood outside and watched until she could no longer see the green of it in the distance.)

      "...not," she finishes. "Can't imagine working for the government, honestly."

- - -

      The night before the end of the world (projected), the supervillain Technobabbler robs a bank. It's not her usual MO, no high-tech target, no flashy robotics, practically sloppy. Peregrine stops her before she even opens the vault.

      "Was there a point to this?" the hero asks, her voice weary as she leans against the vault door. "Or just one more piece of trouble before I go and try to save the world?"

      Technobabbler's entire face is covered in a mask, opaque lenses over her eyes, voice modified until not an ounce of human emotion seeps through. Her shoulders are tense.

      "Or you don't go," she says.

      When Peregrine is silent, the villain continues, words falling out in a mechanical rush. "If you go—if you don't come back—I'll rob a bank every day. I'll kidnap government officials. I'll—I'll turn people into androids. No one will be there to stop me."

      "I hope," Peregrine says slowly, "you'll stop yourself."

      "I'm a villain."

      "You don't have to be." She pushes off the door and takes a step forward, watches Technobabbler stumble back. Holds out a hand. "Come with us. Help us, and I'll put in a good word for you. It's never too late to change."

      It feels like hours that she stares at that hand.

      "I can't," she says at last. "I made a promise."

- - -

      When the storms make land, the ramshackle community center floods. The clinic, especially, asks for help: beds for their patients, food and transportation for their doctors, dry storage space for their remaining equipment. Laine finds herself called for at midnight, frantically swapping out soaked and faulty wiring for nearly-new parts she hopes will fix everything.

      It's dawn when she starts making her way home. The frigid, muddy water swirling through the streets and flooding her boots looks almost beautiful, shimmering with the first rose-gold rays of sunrise.

      Its eddies catch and twist around something musty and green, just barely poking out of the water.

- - -

      The day the world is expected to end, Laine nudges broadcast towers in her direction, strengthens the receptors in the television. She will watch this. She has to watch this.

      The news crews grab as many interviews as they can—pre-fight interviews, they say, avoiding final, avoiding memoriam. Beckett shines in her Peregrine suit. She always has.

      The cameras can't follow the heroes all the way, can only show the battle from a distance. It's too dangerous, could interfere with the fight. More importantly, cameras stop working if they get too close. Laine wonders if she could have made the cameras work, if she'd gone. If Technobabbler had chosen the heroes' side, in the end. Probably she would have had more important things to do.

      She sits on the green couch for hours, alone, and watches her own world end.

- - -

      Most of the conference rooms have been destroyed, and the suits are shabbier now, too. But the men still hem and haw just the same when people come to them for help rebuilding and resupplying. That hardly seems fair, they bluster. Why didn't you simply preserve your resources like we did? If we help you now, how will you help yourselves?

- - -

      Technobabbler does not rob a bank every day. She does not kidnap government officials, or turn people into androids.

- - -

      Underground, in their reinforced rooms, with their hoards of resources, the men smile. We did well, they tell each other. This is what we are meant for. The world needs us, just like this.

      They don't notice the controls of their high-tech security systems start to move.

- - -

      "An anonymous donation," the clinic doctor tells Laine, beaming. "We'll be able to ride this one out, rebuild, maybe even set up a backup location."

            Laine smiles, and it feels like it could be a laugh.

[aquilapolariz]

only gray (trafalgar law)

Summary: A short story and character analysis of Law during the the Rocky Port Incident + very minor spoilers about Law's backstory

Word Count: 200+

Law's gray eyes were like storm clouds. Turning dark and mysterious, his gaze narrowed causing clouds to roll over the horizon of his pupils, ready to strike upon hundreds of unsuspecting pirates that took harbor at Rocky Port. The bounding of his devil fruit’s operating room was the thunderous warning of what’s to come. 

“Room,” he said calmly. It took a lot out of him to create such a large boundary, but he'd let no one see his weakness.

“Mess.” Within the blink of an eye, hundreds of hearts were ejected from the chests of men and women. No one in the area was spared, but each and everyone of them was still alive and breathing. 

The storm had gone as quickly as it came. Raging, then calm. Deafening, then silent. Law was never a fan of flashy confrontations. Preferring well thought-out plans that were formulated in the airtight, soundproof shield of the Polar Tang, he never fought an unnecessary fight.

Law was a pirate, but he was also a doctor. Was he good or was he bad? It didn’t matter, he told himself. 

The color of his eyes gave it away in every concerned gaze and fiendish smirk. The world isn’t black or white. Only gray. And so was he. 

He didn't kill the pirates, but he planned on giving their hearts to the navy, who might have a fate worse than death in store for them. But this was all for the sake of one day taking down Doflamingo- surely that’d save even more lives. It would save the most important life- the tortured soul of Corazon.

Stealer of hearts and surgeon of death, Law was both the positive and the negative, the good and the bad. His brain contained multitudes and his eyes held the entire world- the gray world in all of its wonderful ambiguity. 

[the-one-true-vexxter]

Vespera ⚡🧨

Full Name: Vespera Savage

Nicknames: Vesp

Universe: Sycleria (~300 years before present day)

Species: Storm Witch, in life

Age: 39 at death

Birthday: October 28th

Height: 5'11"

Pronouns: She/Her (cis female)

Orientation: Bisexual

Occupation: Former guildmaster and founder of the Stormbringers (an elite society for storm-based magic users and any others looking to become stronger)

Abilities: Not only is she physically strong in the arms, but she's a magic powerhouse- hailing from the storm field (a mixture between air and electric), she can summon and manipulate bolts of lightning, power anything that requires electricity, melt certain objects from heat, create barriers of static electricity, attract/repel metals, and even to a lesser extent "fly" for short periods of time (it looks more like she's just jumping really high and hovering for a bit). She has a high amount of magical energy and takes a while to burn out. Also, she has a unique ability that runs in her family - she can "feed" off of the energy of others' magic output, so the more energy they use against her, the more she has for her own attacks.

Basic Personality: Vespera's the queen bee type - outspoken, flashy, and with a sense of confidence that often escalates into a god complex. Her love of luxury and her need to be the best at everything, as if she constantly has something to prove, makes her come off as entitled and impatient. She can be a people person and friendly to those she's drawn to most - the outsiders, powerful and power-hungry - and supportive of their growth yet still demanding, but shows her true colors once she gains their trust. She lives for the spotlight and views magic as a gift for only the strong and capable, which should be used to its highest potential... even at others' expense.

Likes: Storms, spa days, journaling, parties, her guild, bold colors, fireworks, shopping, destroying the competition, using her powers, getting her way, sweet things, fellow storm users

Dislikes: Losing, Aleron, familiars in general, her sister, being interrupted, water, being forced to sit still, failure, cowards, disrespect, being teased or made fun of

As a reward for her talents, she advanced rapidly - joining the military, founding a guild of her own for the like-minded (the Stormbringers) and entering the ranks of the greatest magic users from each field (the Tower of Sorcery). Though, she quickly became mad with power, using her influence to instill terror into those beneath her and permitting and even organizing attacks on those she deemed threats to the Stormbringer's power. This radical shift got her banned from the Tower and she organized a major attack in retaliation.

Background (i feel like it's necessary here): Vespera was always prone to angry outbursts as a child, and growing up surrounded by non-magic humans who "othered" the magic-using crowd, along with a "naturally talented" older sister who she was often compared to and weak-willed parents who never addressed her issues, definitely didn't help. As part of a jealous streak as a child, she demanded a gryphon familiar to outdo her sister - and was instead gifted the scrawny and timid Aleron. Out of spite, she would abuse him throughout their childhoods (without consequences due to the time period) and scared those around her with her rapid progression in training, until she had trained long and hard enough to be on the same level as if not outperform her sister.

It was actually her own familiar, Aleron, that would do her in during this final stand - the last person she expected to challenge her in a battle to the death and win. Currently, her vengeful spirit is sealed inside the top piece of her staff and guarded by Aleron, waiting to one day be released.

[princepsumbra]

"Hark, milord! On this day did darkness descend, giving birth to the heroic spirit within my stygian master..." Odin stops the professor on his walk to class with one of his dramatic poses. An hand falls over his face, fingers opening just a crack for an ashen eye to peek through. He gives pause, as if letting an imaginary twinkle live its short life. "...And unleashing a storm of retribution against the forces of evil! I've heard the legends: they say that a shadow was cast upon the moon, and your cradle came crashing into the castle!"

At least, that's what the ones he started say.

"So behold! As your retainer I take this day very seriously. 'Tis a matter of life and death!" With his spare hand, he reaches behind his back. Some rummaging around happens--probably more than Odin would have liked or had been sufficiently dramatic--and with a little flair he presents a carefully-wrapped costume box. "Happy birthday, Lord Leo! Greatness and power shall find you, lest I am not an Avenger of Righteous Justice!"

He drops the edgy facade and pushes the gift to the prince's chest with both hands, his smiling face eager to see it opened. "So go on! Shout your sacred name into the heavens, and let them know that none may stand in your way with your ultimate birthday powers! This gift shall amplify them, too, for it is the twin of the artifact I draw my power from."

Another pause. This time, to create gravity. He waggles his finger, and the line on his brow darkens with the rise of excitement.

"That's right... I've given you... Your very own Wings of Darkness!"

Sort of. They aren't quite the same--scaled instead of feathered--but the idea was for them to not be a complete match. These ones are the black and pointed wings of a gargoyle, inspiring fear and terror in equal measure... That is to say, not a lot of either, since, at the end of the day, they are still just a prop.

But Odin's face looks so excited. He can't wait to see what wicked spells Leo would cast whilst wearing them.

Odin's shadow gave him away.

Leo saw a flash of blond just peeking around the corner on his route to class. It was about time he changed which pathways he walked, anyway. Predictability only led to situations like this (and a knife in the back, though such a threat is low here at Garreg Mach).

Now he stands patiently waiting for his every-loyal retainer to finish whatever grand speech he'd no doubt been practicing for hours. While flashy, the colorful rumors and tales did add another layer of mystique to Leo's reputation, and he does appreciate the unintended affect.

A matter of life and death is a touch dramatic, even for Odin. Leo won't begrudge the mage for forgetting a birthday; Leo himself holds no plans other than a quiet dinner with his sisters. But he keeps talking...and talking...and talking while shoving the gift further into Leo's personal space.

He accepts the box with his free hand--the other currently occupied with freshly graded papers ready for return--while doing his best to look properly impressed. This stuff matters to Odin; ruining his enthusiasm on the grounds of not understanding why it holds so much weight is ignorant at best and baselessly cruel at worst. Odin thrives on flamboyance, on the power of stories and make-believe talismans.

"Wings of Darkness?" Leo repeats, curious despite himself. It takes some shuffling, but he manages to maneuver everything properly in his arms so he can open the box without dropping it all.

A costume prop greets him once he finally pops the lid off. The name wasn't a misnomer after all; the cloth is of the deepest black, textured to shimmer like scales in the shifting light. If not for the impressive amount of detail (and backstory), Leo would think this a joke.

But judging by the look on his retainer's face, he considers this as serious as Leo would a battle strategy.

"I...thank you, Odin, for this artifact," Leo replies with true sincerity. He replaces the lid with all the studiousness such a gift deserves. "I will guard them jealously."

(And if they remain in their box, unworn not out of distaste but sheer embarrassment, that's between him and the shadow-casted moon.)

[kroashent]

The Armorican Peninsula is a strange and wondrous place, a mist-shrouded land full of magic and mystery, where the mortal realm of Bedouar and the timeless vastness of Faerie coexist side by side, the great veil ripped apart by uncontrollable magic, causing time and space to collapse into disarray.  Unearthly fog rolls in, cutting off travelers from where they came and pure magical chaos rolls across the region in great storms.  Fortune can be found in the borders of Faerie to the brave and the lucky, death for the foolish. 

The treacherous coast of the region, the Ar Mor Bras, is no stranger to these twists of fate, home to the lost city of Ys-Beneath-the-Waves and its accursed princess, Ahes Dahut.  Throughout the ages, some individuals find themselves caught in the whirlpool of magic surrounding this mystical site, and are drawn in by the phantom bells of the sunken city and the enchanting, enticing song of those trapped by its curse....

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

Back in 2019, I launched a special series for Mermay, an art project to develop a small, but important part of the lore of Alvez, the world of Kroashent.  The Marie-Morgane of Ys-Beneath-the-Waves are one of several merfolk races of the world.  For this project, I decided to "adapt" each of the Dungeons and Dragons Character Classes into a character as they may appear in Alvez, then transform these characters into mermaids with art and short stories!  Since then, I've been working hard on developing the world and the characters who live, there, even writing an ongoing novella, Kroashent: Bal des Loups, which you can read the first 3 chapters right now, for free!  A lot has changed as I worked and some of the art and stories seemed like they could use an update!

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

Adele is Fleur's partner-in-crime (literally) and then partner in other things later on.  She was always intended as the other side of the coin to Fleur, a quick thinking, flashy sorceress counter to her friends "blend into the background" approach.  In Alvez, the world of Kroashent, Adele is a Boermerzh, a human who can interact with faerie magic, but not a trained Similherez (Mage).  She's very much an instinctive, unrefined caster, which seemed like the closest to a D&D Sorcerer.  Personality-wise, Adele is the more adventurous of the pair, and acts as a sort of big-sister guardian to Fleur.  When Fleur gets into trouble when she steals from the wrong target, Adele steps up to help her on the dangerous task she is assigned without hestitation.  Unfortunately, Adele's chapter was never published back in 2019, but someday I hope to share her story!

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

Alternate version available on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Kroashent

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

See Adele's original design here: https://www.deviantart.com/kathalia/art/Mermay-2019-The-Sorceress-Adele-1-797131796

and her original mermaid form here: https://www.deviantart.com/kathalia/art/Mermay-2019-The-Sorceress-Adele-2-798713324

[libidomechanica]

“Let in the red mans hand”

Roared before the wide wings, streaming.     Let in the red man’s hand. If by traduction can’t recur.     Drop by, and no blood curdled in feeling myself, and Stellaes     eyes survey’d the childlike into the grove, nor wish’d there’s     ne’er err’d, nor over-

anxious care. Away from the Arrows     that the echoes, dying, drilling,—for deeming frown. And     storing its wall; and stormed at the Elysian lawns, whereto     all those that others. The cost would be about witche: and     the world uplifts its spirit

in my own nostrils, should bar     him off to thee did make. But, ah, she gazing out an hour,     and, withouten lincks of love resides all contractor’s feet;     and what is lost the western skies. Reality, nor seemed     and I will not. He was

free to confident confusion,     and Stella is? When bells forth into universary,     a dove, my love and more on your early June, I to her     mammie’s wark, and gay: but death is six days long. Ties? Arose     and grow for ever. And

so last night and cared nothing air.     Penny that beneath and mouth? I stammered that way, he     sate by the third, in columns, with which starts; the Mamma Mia’s!     The ghost at least word, thinke you are a hard one to wake me.     When I inhale, smoke

occupied by fens. Come away dyd     wype. Till a morbid hate and bye The Shah beheld them proper     tone came out above us the waves of pearl makes sense,     to gratify, like Orpheus, from a grey churches; ’ there     was not Wisdom in Himself

had trod Sicilian fold,     his sheep, his hands, and wilt thou shepheards quill. To see a woman     climbs a peak to gaze o’er land and were accustom’d, as     a snowflake in love, my daily fires; the loved you, a million—     drawered cherries

pluck’d fresh as a rose her wishes     went! Part of a grave united by the innocence, as     common soldiers have left alone. Winds howling, will have come     away, children do in the weighs that her warlike mind, my     flashy acrobatics

with wives. Full in myself a motley     to their engineering slang, nor willing fetters—the     chains of your face was shed upon my face turns toward his world.     Sweet bells forth everywhere, confused by yourself would not vary,     is constable, table-

cloth and sees with his flute his     fires, those powers voted the aire: This life was one-and-twenty     I heard your warmly lit house of Amundeville,     and snowy summits old in store, to hinder the other     when the dances at a

leap; on whom pale as it was ashamed     of successful too; winning postures, couched no soul nor     boundless rue. Below my chin, she taught me Turn, and he did     sip, and laughs at thy birth I owe nobler seat then? The lightly     slake the first i’ th’

flower and being best     acquaintance mad March greater than she will went on in prepares     thro’ the bath-house love killer, I am murderous and     hath weand my comen trade, to crown thin, produce the lea; but     the old ladies, who fondly

laid, and tempting love. Along     the Noble Nature keep me alive has seizes warrior     maid invincible, arm’d with music. Nor ought delightest     ground at first ye were not talked, the right and trip when I did     strive to her colour vade

of fire, mortals he is gone, I     could not join them think on. Ho, and all in an houre sincerest     who are strong as that rivers. If Lucy hould breaking     of Empire, nor any mortal in a single shade     of love. At barn or byre

thou dar’st, all adieu! Meantime, her     make one dumb, yet leave my whimsies; but thoughts in a stare; and     crowne her golden dreams of glory and grace for it alone.     Tingle on the weather— still drink my answered nothing, but     with a mobile nose she

moved among us, learnt, for thou     art my wit or ward, was he, that’s great expanse and in your     death is gone down, I wak’d, she did sit or walke; how cloth’d; how     waited but thou wage mute! Waking no summers could reach the     pause I live and losse of

death. And bristling tier, forty feet     to where falls short; and see the pikes, or wait the Amen, ere     the spot where, and this you can find none! Ye goatherd gods, that     I lo’e thee with awful echoes, answers the palms. He gaed     wi’ Jeanie to the drunken

king to brawl at Shushan     underneath thy tongue for what will not dead; would them were still my     argument; so all men may be named by your hands we took     up an older friend, like that ancient Rome or Greece, whose deny,     my love immortal

mesh and lonely for his toilet,—     which of nicety, where you go. By those who rarely seen,     and beat, night-long with various nations; the Head, her back     to me. So that thou Lost in you, not lost it to you.     Sighing she spoke: like men!

[yarnboo01]

Notice: There is description of severe weather, loss of home, and mentions of pet death.

I smelled the thunderstorm ages ago, but Mom knew already. She had put my cozy sweater on and kept checking her small glowy rectangle. Mom doesn't smell the rain or feel the thunder like I do, but she uses her glowy rectangle to tell her. She tried to explain it to me once, but she used many words I didn't know. I remember she ended up smiling and giving me scratches behind my ears, and that made me feel great.

This time though, Mom is upset. I can smell it. She smells scared. Like she did when my leash broke at the park, or when she watches something that screams on the glowy box. The rain starts getting hard on the windows, and I feel the rumble of the thunder before I hear the BOOM of it's sound. Mom pets my head, and says "It's okay" which means that I am safe, but in her sounds. But I hear how she is breathing, and smell her fear, and I see her check her glowy rectangle, and I don't feel comfort.

The rain gets harder and the storm smells more and more electric as time goes on. We are snuggled on the couch, my head in her lap, when I feel her muscles stiffen, hear her heart pound faster, and smell the fear even stronger than before.

"Shit...shitshitshit"

I jump up, that's the sound Mom makes when she hurts herself, like when she walks into the table, or drops a glass cup, or cuts her finger making food. She sprints to the kitchen and shoves her shoes on her feet, and grabs my leash. Why are we going outside? I look at the window, the rain has quieted some, but its still very dark, and I hear a strange shrill whine from outside. Like the bright flashy and loud cars that pass on the street sometimes, but worse. She clips my leash on my collar and turn towards the door, while she slips on her coat. I don't want to go outside. Why are we going outside?

She grabs my leash, and I balk as she pulls me outside. "Come on, Benny", she says that when she needs me to walk faster on a walk, so as much as I don't want to, I follow. She knows more than me, and I trust her, even if this does seem stupid.

The whine and thunder are so much louder out here, and I can nearly feel the tingle of the lightning in the air. It smells damp and muddy, and the rain is cold and very sharp on my nose. Mom knocks on the neighbors door, where the other pack lives. Our house is the same house, but we have seperate dens. They also have a Mom, but also a Dad and a Pup. I enjoy these people, and I wag my tail when I see Pup hiding behind her Dad's legs.

When I look around I see many packs leaving their homes, with many Pups and other dogs, running around the houses. Through the rain I smell all sorts of fear. This is not good.

Other Mom picks up Pup, while the Dad grabs a crate with Cat inside. This Cat is a good cat, unlike the other hissy demons, and he sometimes cuddles with me on the porch. He smells scared as well and is meowing very loudly. Mom leads me, and Other Mom and Dad and Pup and Cat to the metal thing in the yard. I have smelled this thing before, and I know there is something below there, it's just impossible to reach. Mom hands my leash to Other Mom, while she and Dad pull the doors open. They quickly usher us inside, and slam the doors closed behind us. To my surprise there is another door under here, which Mom opens to let us all in.

The glowy rectangles are our only light, until Other Mom pulls a string and turns on a small sun. It is dim and sounds like bees, but it is light to see our surroundings. We are in a small room with stone walls and stone floors, that has strange machines that hum gently, compared to what the chaos of the last few minutes has been. I still hear the rain, and the thunder, but not nearly as loudly as before. Despite the smell of fear, I know this is a safe place.

Pup is crying in her Mom's lap, and since my Mom and her Dad are talking, I trot over to her and lick her little paws. I come up only to her chest now, but I remember when she was only as big as Cat. These creatures grow to be very big, very slowly, but it still seems too fast sometimes. She smiles big, showing all her teeth (which isn't angry, like with dogs and cats, they do that when happy) and pets me on the head.

"You are a Good Boy, Benny. Very brave."

My heart leaps with joy when she says, "Good boy" as this means that I am doing things that make her happy. She climbs off her Mom's lap, and sits by me, wrapping her arm around me in a hug. I lean into her, while she pets me.

"Benny, do you know what a tornado is?"

I look at her, as she has said my name but no words I know.

"My mommy says the storm gets really big and windy and it makes a straw to the ground."

She pauses to see if I understand, which I don't, but I lick her to show I am listening. She laughs and continues,

"Then the straw turns around and around and blows all the houses and trees down," she pauses and looks sad again, "I'm scared of it Benny."

I know I must be strong for her, as I smell her fear rise again, and see a tear fall out her eye. I must be strong for Pup, like Mom is for me. Whatever this storm has done, it will not hurt Pup.

I look at the door as the sounds of the storm, while muffled, seem to grow louder.

We all look at the door as it grows louder and louder.

"Benny! Here!" I join Mom as she sits against the wall, wrapping a blanket around us, and the crate that holds Cat and bends over. My leash is taut so I am close to her body and I can hear her hart through her chest.

"MOMMY! I'm scared!!!!"

"It's gonna be okay honey, we are gonna be okay."

I don't know what's going on, but I know this is not okay. That noise is not okay. I whimper to let Mom know how scared I am, and I hear her sob into my fur. Mom is scared. I am scared. The world must be ending.

The loud noise doesn't last much longer, but we all stay huddled for so long that I begin to drift asleep. The fear is exhausting after all, and since the loud noise has now passed, I decide that the danger has mostly passed.

Mom sits up and wipes her nose. I start licking her face, and then her hand where she is wet. One thing about these beings is that they are quite messy, and don't lick themselves clean. Since we aren't dead, at least I am sure we will be clean. They all talk while I clean Mom, and keep talking when I move on to licking my own muddy paws. Soon I feel very sleepy, and close my eyes.

I hardly notice the time pass by, until Mom, and Other Mom and Dad and Pup all stand up. I stretch and yawn, hopefully this means we can go back home, to our beds, go to sleep and wake up tomorrow like this is a bad dream.

"All clear then... let's... let's go see how bad it is."

All I understand is "let's go" so I happily followed as we exited the door. Back up the steps we went, and as soon as I feel my nose hit the fresh wind, I know that this is all wrong.

I stop and stare at the house next to ours. Or what was the house next to ours. That pack emerges from the ground and their Mom gasps.

"Oh my god. Oh my god."

I turn to our house and my heart drops. There is a tree in our house. I see Mom's bedroom from where I stand. Her bed, her chair, my blankets... I see from the yard.

Pup starts wailing, and I sit and just look at the ground. Our house is broken. My heart hurts like when our last pack member, Henry, went to the Vet the last time. He was old, and sick, and I remember when I felt him die. Mom and I barely did anything but sleep for so long. But then Pup was born, and everything became happy again.

But Pup can't fix a broken house, can she? I look over at her, and see her crying into her Mom and Dad. I don't think she can.

There are beings everywhere. The slight drizzle seems to bother nobody, as packs whose houses are not broken rush to bring blankets and bags of things to those with broken homes. It's not long before I see the flashy shiny loud cars pull up.

I look to Mom who is still staring at our house. She is crying. Crying as hard as when Henry died. She squats to the ground and puts her hands over her ears and squeezes her eyes closed. I put my paw on her knee as she continues to cry. This is the kind of cry that I cannot stop. I know no matter what I do I cannot help her. All I can do is be here and keep an eye for danger.

And danger comes in the form of a being in fancy clothes. Like the Mailman but darker and thicker. I turn to him, plant my paws in the mud and growl. You. Will. Not. Touch. Mom.

"Hey hey buddy... I'm here to help. I'm a good guy, promise.... nice doggy? Nice doggy..."

He extends his paw forward, as the beings do when intending to greet and I sniff. Mom turns to watch us, and I don't let my guard down until she touches my back.

"He's okay, Benny. He is a firefighter, he is just helping."

I have no clue what this "Fire Fighter" is, but Mom seems relaxed towards him, so I wag my tail and bump his hand for pets.

Eventually he leads us to nearby house. This house I know has a Dad, another Dad, two Pups and a dog who is much much smaller than me. His name is Paxton, and he is very friendly. I play with him sometimes at the park. The older Pup, who is almost not a Pup anymore but soon a GrownPup (at least what Paxton calls him) is holding Paxton's leash while he runs to and fro trying to say hi to all of the people outside. I want to run towards him, but Mom keeps me going slow, and pulling on the leash is not good behavior, so I make my steps smaller and quicker to pretend I am going fast.

We go into Paxton's house and after a quick debrief on what is going on, he let's me know that we are staying here for a few nights until Mom gets somewhere else for us to stay. Our Neighbor pack is staying at another house down the street. Paxton admittedly cannot stand cats as they smell "deceitful and dangerous."

Finally Mom and I curl under a blanket on the couch. I feel that, even though she is sad, she is more glad we are safe. As she begins to softly snore, I put my head on her belly and sigh. My Mom will always keep us safe. She is truly the most brave being I have ever encountered.

You are a dog. Your master, fearless in the face of thunder and mailmen, reeks of fear. Something terrifying beyond comprehension is coming. Your master calls it… a tornado.