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thepastisalreadywritten · 1 month

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(CNN) — It’s late summer 2,850 years ago. A fire engulfs a stilt village perched above a boggy, slow-moving river that weaves though the wetlands of eastern England.

The tightly packed roundhouses, built from wood, straw, turf, and clay just nine months earlier, go up in flames.

The inhabitants flee, leaving behind all their belongings, including a wooden spoon in a bowl of half-eaten porridge.

There is no time to rescue the fattened lambs, which are trapped and burnt alive.

The scene is a vivid and poignant snapshot, captured by archaeologists, of a once thriving community in late Bronze Age Britain known as Must Farm, near what’s now the town of Peterborough.

The research team published a two-volume monograph on Wednesday that describes their painstaking $1.4 million (£1.1 million) excavation and analysis of the site in the county of Cambridgeshire.

Described by the experts involved as an “archaeological nirvana,” the site is the only one in Britain that lives up to the “Pompeii premise,” they say, referencing the city forever frozen in time by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in AD 79 that has yielded unparalleled information about ancient Rome.

“In a typical Bronze Age site, if you’ve got a house, you’ve probably got maybe a dozen post holes in the ground and they’re just dark shadows of where it once stood.

If you’re really lucky, you’ll get a couple of shards of pottery, maybe a pit with a bunch of animal bones.

This was the complete opposite of that process. It was just incredible,” said Chris Wakefield of the Cambridge Archaeological Unit at the University of Cambridge, an archaeologist and member of the 55-person team that excavated the site in 2016.

"All the axe marks had been used to shape and sculpt the wood. All of those looked fresh, like they could have been done last week by someone,” Wakefield added.

The remarkably preserved condition of the site and its contents enabled the archaeological team to draw comprehensive new insights into Bronze Age society — findings that could overturn the current understanding of what everyday life was like in Britain during the ninth century BC.

Must Farm domesticity — and a mystery

The site, which dates to eight centuries before Romans arrived in Britain, revealed four roundhouses and a square entranceway structure, which stood approximately 6.5 feet (2 meters) above the riverbed and were surrounded by a 6.5-foot (2-meter) fence of sharpened posts.

The archaeologists believe the settlement was likely twice as big. However, quarrying in the 20th century destroyed any other remains.

Though charred from the fire, the remaining buildings and their contents were extremely well preserved by the oxygen-starved conditions of the fens, or wetlands, and included many wooden and textile items that rarely survive in the archaeological record.

Together, traces of the settlement paint a picture of cozy domesticity and relative plenty.

The researchers unearthed 128 ceramic artifacts — jars, bowls, cups and cookware — and were able to deduce that 64 pots were in use at the time of fire.

The team found some stored pots neatly nested.

Textiles found at the site made from flax linen had a soft, velvety feel with neat seams and hems, although it wasn’t possible to identify individual pieces of clothing.

Wooden artifacts included boxes and bowls carved from willow, alder and maple, 40 bobbins, many with threads still attached, various tools, and 15 wooden buckets.

“One of those buckets … on the bottom of it were loads and loads of cut marks, so we know that people living in that Bronze Age kitchen when they needed an impromptu chopping board, were just flipping that bucket upside down and using that as a chopping surface,” Wakefield said.

“It’s those little moments that build together to give a richer, fuller picture of what was going on.”

The circumstances of the event that brought it all to a halt are still a bit of a mystery.

The researchers believe the fire took place in late summer or early autumn because skeletal remains of the lambs kept by one household showed the animals, typically born in spring, were three months to six months old.

However, what exactly caused the devastating fire remains unclear. The blaze could have been accidental or deliberately started.

The researchers uncovered a stack of spears with shafts over 10 feet (3 meters) long at the site, and many experts think that warfare was common in the time period.

The team worked with a forensic fire investigator but ultimately couldn’t identify a specific “smoking gun” clue pointing to the cause.

“An archaeological site is a lot like a jigsaw puzzle. At a typical site you have 10 or 20 pieces out of 500,” Wakefield said.

“Here, we had 250 or 300 pieces and we still couldn’t get the complete picture on how this big fire broke out.”

Mike Parker Pearson, a professor of British later prehistory at the Institute of Archaeology at University College London, described both the report and the site “as exceptional.” He wasn’t involved in the research.

“The fire may have been disastrous for the inhabitants but it is a blessing for archaeologists, a unique snapshot of life in the Bronze Age,” he said via email.

Upending ideas about Bronze Age society

The contents across the four preserved houses were “remarkably consistent."

Each one had a tool kit that included sickles, axes, gouges, and handheld razors used to cut hair or cloth.

With almost 538 square feet (50 square meters) of floor space in the largest, each of the dwellings appeared to have distinct activity zones comparable to rooms in a modern home.

“By plotting the positions of all these finds — pots, loomweights, tools, and even sheep droppings, the archaeological team have reconstructed the houses’ internal use of space,” Parker Pearson noted.

“The kitchen area was in the east, the storage and weaving area in the south and southeast with the penning area for lambs, and the sleeping area in the northwest, though we don’t know where the doorway was for each house.”

Not all the items were of practical use, such as 49 glass beads plus others made of amber.

Archaeologists also unearthed a woman’s skull, smooth from touch, possibly a keepsake of a lost loved one.

Some of the items the researchers found will go on display starting April 27 in an exhibition titled “Introducing Must Farm: A Bronze Age Settlement” at the Peterborough Museum and Art Gallery.

Lab analysis of biological remains revealed the types of food the community once consumed.

A pottery bowl imprinted with the finger marks of its maker held a final meal — a wheat grain porridge mixed with animal fat.

Chemical analyses of the bowls and jars showed traces of honey along with deer, suggesting the people who used the dishes might have enjoyed honey-glazed venison.

Ancient excrement found in waste piles below where the houses would have stood showed that the community kept dogs that fed on scraps from their owners’ meals.

And human fossilized poop, or coprolites, showed that at least some inhabitants suffered from intestinal worms.

The waste piles, or middens, were one line of evidence that showed how long the site was occupied, with a thin layer of refuse suggesting the settlement was built nine months to a year before it went up in flames.

"Two other factors supported that line of reasoning," Wakefield said.

“The second was that a lot of the wood that was used in the construction was unseasoned, it was still effectively green, it hadn’t been long in position,” he said.

“The third one is that we have a lack of the kind of insects and animals that are associated with human habitation."

"It wouldn’t be long before beetles would worm (in) … but there’s no evidence of any of that in any of the 18,000 plus timbers.”

The fact that the site, with its rich and varied contents, was in use for only a year upended the team’s preconceived “visions of everyday life” in the ninth century BC.

It may suggest that Bronze Age societies were perhaps less hierarchical than traditionally thought, according to the 1,608-page report.

“We are seeing here not the accumulation of a lifetime, but just a year’s worth of materials,” the authors noted in the report.

“It suggests that artefacts such as bronze tools and glass beads were more common than we often imagine and that their availability may not in fact have been restricted.”

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beuatifulbuttercup · 7 months

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titan army shit bc it's the only thing keeping my life together

Billie: Lou Ellen… Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? Lou Ellen: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned. Billie: Billie: I wrote sanitize, Lou Ellen.

Valentina, wearing shades: Rule one of destroying the world. Valentina: does finger guns You gotta look good while doing it.

Ellis: Where did you get that tomato soup? Clovis: It’s actually a bowl of ketchup I just microwaved.

Luke: Clownery. Tomfoolery. Absolute fuckery, I am going to revoke your life privileges.

Valentina: I never said I was gonna get back together with them. But I was thinking, they're in town, would it be the worst thing in the world if I gave them a call? Silena: No. No, Valentina, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It would be the fourth worst thing. Number one: a super volcano. Number two: an asteroid hits the Earth. Number three: All the Evel Knievel movies are lost. Number four: Valentina calls Ellis. Number five: Billie gets eaten by a shark. Billie: I’m Billie, and I approve the order of that list.

Alabaster: Why am I the bad guy? Ethan: I don't know, why am I the pretty one? We all have our thing.

While the Squad is in a battle Luke, trying to warn about the location of an enemy: To the left! Chris: Take it back now y'all!

Billie: I never tell people off the bat that I'm gay. I wait. I wait until they say some homophobic shit and then I laugh and am like "you know I'm gay right?" and watch the look of terror on their face. Valentina: Valentina: I like you.

Luke: We've got to find a way to cut down our expenses. What can we live without? Ethan: Ellis, probably.

Ethan: You're pathetic! Lou Ellen: You're pathetic-er! Alabaster: You're both losers.

Silena after Chris went insane: Chris, can I ask you a question? Chris: Sure, anything. Silena: Why don't you go back to your own house and leave us alone?

Ethan: I typed "bitch" into my GPS and guess what? I'm in your driveway. Luke: Ethan: Vroom vroom, come out already.

Billie: Goddamn it, the printer broke while printing out Alabaster's birthday invitations. Lou Ellen: Well, what are they supposed to say? Billie: "Alabaster's birthday". Lou Ellen: So, what do they say instead? Billie: "Alabaster’s bi". Lou Ellen: Lou Ellen: Works out either way.

#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #titan army #lou ellen blackstone #billie ng #ellis wakefield #valentina diaz #chris rodriguez #luke castellan #silena beauregard #ethan nakamura #alabaster c torrington #alabaster torrington #pjo incorrect quotes #this was in my drafts for too dam long

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phoenix--flying · 4 months

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things my friendgroup has said while playing roblox games but its just titan army characters (canon +my hcs and a couple aus)

Chris: Not pump up the music box. What is is? Luke: Wind up??

Ellis: It's 5:07, we might not even need to wind up the music box. Cecil: Did you just say its almost seven???

Chris: Watch them all come into the room at 5:50. bonnie appearing at the end of the hall Al: CHRIS. CHRIS! Chris: OH GOD BONNIE-

Drew: Ethan is just SO homophobic he'd rather die then deal with lesbians. Ethan: Uh...yeah true

Luke: What if we did a reverse Five Nights at Freddys where the animatronics had to spend five nights at our house and then we literally like smash them in with a baseball bat.

Lee: Yall I have no idea what I'm doing. Silena: You can do it Lee! Lee: dies

Lou: I think that was Foxy leaving his home. Cecil: uh..nuh uh.

Lou: Oh. I don't like that sound. Ellis: No neither do I.. Cecil: Run.

Lee: Ventilation sys-... *phantom puppet standing directly behind him doing nothing* HI?? CAN I HELP YOU??

Silena: I've never seen him on the first night. Luke: I have. Lee: ....I feel like Lee is about to tell us me a horror story.

Ethan: Hes alive. Al: *walks into the room and stares at him.* Oh shit.

Silena: He's still in here? Don't tell me to come closer bitch.

Al: Please distract him. *jumpscare noise* ...by distract him I didn't mean throw yourself into his arms.

Chris: Luke your head just flew off of your head for a second."

Luke: I'm dead by the way so I am...no longer living. Lee: wow i wonder...

Silena: He's by Lees corpse 🤗 Lee: Thanks Leens😒

spooky noise Cecil: What was that?? *runs off*

Lee: If you do die I will to. I'll die with you.

Chris, Al and Ethan: *incoherent yelling and screaming about balloon boy* Luke: .....what??

Nyssa: Yea Foxys like eating your ass right now.

Luke: I hate Balloon Boy, I hate his stupid round eyes and his frickin balloon sign. Get outta here. Silena: His like free balloons take one I love you sign? Luke: Yea. Chris: Like I don't care. Go burn. Lee: How about we just burn the whole place to the ground.

Al: If I don't see him, he doesn't see me....he might see me. He might see me. Ethan: He sees you.

Cecil: What if it's really fun. Like what if we go to fun land after this. twenty minutes later Cecil: NO WE HAVE TO SLIDE INTO FUN??? Lou: NO KING WHY DID YOU SAY WE WERE GONNA GO TO FUNLAND??

Lee: Wait thats a seven? Silena: Its a two for me! Luke: ITS DIFFERENT NUMBERS!?

Ethan: Is this Sirenhead?? Chris: Do not even start. DON'T even tell me that.

Lee: So just hang left? Silena: Yup. Luke: Just always go left. Chris: Hehe. That's what I thought too. Silena: Oh..

Al: Chris I can't believe your profile picture isn't a cat. Chris: Al I can't believe you're GAY.

Mitchell: Why is your face purple?? Ethan: You're purple too?? Drew: WELL. YOU'RE FACE IS PURPLE TOO.

Chris: But I can see really well, I don't know what's wrong with you. Ethan: Cause you...cause you died. Al: Cause you fucking walked into Bonnie??

Chris: Oh my god I did it guys! All me. Silena: YOU DIDN'T!? You died like immediately. Luke: You died before the animatronics even started moving.

Cecil: Why would you say that? Chris: You trusted the person who walked into Bonnie on the first night? Cecil: I don't trust you, Luke: And he wasn't even off the stage yet. Cecil: I'm just gullible.

Lou: Oh my god this is so much better I can actually see them....actually nevermind it's not better. It's not better. I see too much.

Lee: Do you wanna play FNaF 4 :D Luke: NO??? (they played fnaf 4)

Drew: Oh come on lets get out! Car! OH IS THAT A KIA SOUL!? EUAGHGHHH

Cecil: I kinda wanna go down there. I really wanna go down there. I'm going. Ellis: Don't die. You're probably gonna die what am I saying?

Chris: Oh Foxy's in the garage?? Foxy's about to drive that car bro

Drew: Is Freddy in this game?? Yeah he is. Silena: Yeah Freddy's in the room. He's under the bed. Drew: Oh! He's under the bed! That makes me feel really safe! That's really- I don't like that. I wish you didn't tell me that.

Lee: I feel like I'm being chased in a horror movie or something. Silena: Me too. Lee: Except I'm surrounded by JOSH HUTCHERSON and I can't be serious about that.

Luke: I'm heading there. OH nevermind I just got hit by a military tank.

Al: Why am I coughing so much?? Chris: Because you're gay. Al: Yeah its a sickness.

#ta!lee has just been accepted as canon in my head btw so #and i have a few ta!drew aus #so 💅#chris rodriguez #alabaster torrington #luke castellan #silena beauregard #lee fletcher #cecil markowitz #ellis wakefield #lou ellen blackstone #nyssa barerra #mitchell pjo #drew tanaka #pjo #phoenix rambles #titan army

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sidecharacterlover · 2 months

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I love the Hermes Cabin so much 🥰❤ (also the Area Cabin and Apollo Cabin)

#hermes cabin #julia feingold #connor stoll #cabin 11 #cecil markowitz #conner stoll #travis stoll #chris rodriguez #ellis wakefield #ares cabin #clarisse la rue #sherman yang #children of ares #will solace #kayla knowles #austin lake #apollo cabin #Children of Apollo

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 months

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Lodged Thorn: Chapter 1

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Friendship/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Clarisse, Michael, Chris Soulmarks weren't supposed to hurt when they came in. Then again, soulmarks weren't supposed to immediately start fading, either. So this is the fault of The Fanfic Reading Challenge server on discord, with all their talk about Soulmate AUs reminding me that I've never written one. Being me, of course, I've gone the Platonic Soulmate route, and I am still firmly in Michael&Clarisse brainrot, so the result was rather obvious... I don't think this'll be more than two or three chapters; it's just an experimental fic so I'll be working on it as and when my muses engage.

A sharp pain tore through Clarisse’s leg and she stumbled, falling to one knee and barely bracing her hand against the ground to stop herself from overbalancing entirely. “Shit,” she hissed, teeth clenching against the pain as she forced herself to breathe through it.

“Clarisse!” Chris fretted, instantly joining her on the ground. “What happened?” Around the two of them, armour creaked and weapons clattered as her siblings jumped into a defensive circle, no doubt searching for the threat.

She’d say she’d trained them well, except she knew they were all agitated at being held back from the war, their nerves on a hair-trigger for anything involving conflict. She was the same way, no matter that she was pressing down on it with all her might, because she was not jumping into this war, not leading her siblings to fight a war for their father when Ares had always made it clear that everyone should fight their own battles.

Ares would fight to defend his own throne. He did not need – would not want – his children to take that away from him.

It was a weak excuse and she knew it. All of her siblings knew it. She hadn’t even admitted it to anyone that wasn’t an Ares kid – or Chris, because Chris was her partner. The chariot, the argument with Michael (another one, because the short bastard never failed to get under her skin), had made a better excuse, or at least one she was willing to verbalise.

Another bolt of pain shot straight through her leg and she cursed again, hand clutching at the spot in her thigh that burned white hot and intense.

Darker hands covered hers, trying to nudge it out of the way.

“Let me see,” Chris pleaded. If it was anyone else, Clarisse would’ve shoved them away roughly, but it was Chris and while there was no reason for her leg to suddenly be in agony when they were within the bounds of camp, and as far as she could tell nothing was even trying to threaten them, she understood why he wanted to check.

“Sherman, take everyone on another perimeter check,” she ordered. “Make sure camp isn’t under attack.” Her brother grimaced as though it was his leg that hurt, but knew better than to protest. Within moments, he had their cabin dispersing into their patrol routes, leaving her alone with Chris.

Her boyfriend wouldn’t be taking no for an answer now that they had no audience, and Clarisse also wanted to know what the Hades was happening to her leg, so she let him help her tug her pants off until her thigh was visible.

Chris spotted it first, eyes going wide. “Uh… Clarisse?”

“What?” she snapped, moving her hands out of her line of sight until she could see- “Shit.”

Her thigh was uninjured, but not unmarked. Blooming over old scar tissue was the shape of a thorn – a rose thorn, her mind supplied uselessly, trivia picked up from her friendship with Silena.

“That’s your soulmark,” Chris said numbly. Clarisse kept her jaw clenched tightly against the pain.

Soulmarks were generally considered to be a sign from some higher power. Different religions had different views on what, exactly, caused them, and Camp Half-Blood was of the general opinion that they were the Fates’ responsibility. No-one had come up with a pattern in when they appeared, and people tended to only have one, an image that somehow linked two people together on a soul level, hence soulmark. Soulmates were not romantic – not that it was unheard of for a soulmated pair to choose to be romantically involved, although it wasn’t overly common, either. Instead, soulmates were platonic first and foremost. Maybe a best friend, sometimes a sibling (often the case, at camp, where sibling was a broad category that encompassed so many people), always a constant.

Soulmarks were not supposed to hurt like Tartarus when they formed. Clarisse had seen enough campers gain them over the years to know that it was a painless affair, often not even noticed until someone happened to spot the new mark on skin.

“What the fuck,” Clarisse growled at the new image on her thigh, and not just because of the pain that wasn’t supposed to be there. The mark had formed over one of her scars, exactly over the old mark she’d got when she was nine and the new kid at camp had shot her. Deliberately. There was no way it was a coincidence, not when the thorn was golden and she’d always thought of the asshole as a thorn in her side.

Her soulmate was Michael and the Fates were assholes for it.

Trust Michael to still find a way to be a pain even when he was away, fighting a war in Manhattan.

“That bastard,” she snarled. “That absolute…”

Going on a tirade about him at least distracted her from the pain, if nothing else. Clarisse tore her eyes away from the offending image as she did so, spitting profanities to the sky and balling her hands up into fists. She hoped his mark coming in had hurt just as much.

“Clarisse.”

Chris’ quiet voice cut her off. He sounded wrong, looked wrong, skin paling.

“What?” she demanded, barely softening her voice because she was angry, dammit. Why- how- was it Michael?

Her boyfriend’s next words felt like a bucket of ice water had been tipped over her. “It’s fading.”

His voice shook, and Clarisse didn’t miss how his hand came up to grip at his shoulder, where she knew a faint silvery-grey outline of a feather hid under his clothes.

Chris hadn’t had his soulmark when he’d gone to join Kronos. When Clarisse had hauled him, insane and insensate, out of the Labyrinth two years later, it was already faded.

It took longer for her to look back down at the damn thorn on her thigh, but when she did, she could see that Chris was right. The golden colour was leaching away in a gradient. Already, the sharp tip of the thorn had gone the tell-tale silvery-grey.

Michael was her soulmate.

Michael was dying.

She’d told him she hoped he died, a parting shot even after he gave up the damn chariot and proceeded to call her as many names as she’d had in store for him. They weren’t strangers to death – even before this last stand at Manhattan, demigods had been dying. She’d known exactly what she’d been hoping for – or had thought she had, back when she was ignorant about their soulmate deal.

Clarisse didn’t want to care, even now. Finding out he was her soulmate didn’t make her suddenly like him, or even hate him any less. He was still an asshole and maybe she’d do better without him.

“Clarisse,” Chris said quietly. His dark eyes were still locked on her soulmark, and his hand was shaking against his shoulder.

Her name had been Mary, he’d told her, once he was sane again. That had eased the sting of when he’d called her Mary, not Clarisse, while in the throes of insanity. He hadn’t known her long, but she’d been his soulmate and her death had been part of what broke him.

“He’s in Manhattan,” she protested. “There’s no way-” Even if she could make it in time, before her mark faded, leaving the gold nothing but a brief memory, she wasn’t a healer. She wouldn’t be able to save his life.

Chris’ voice still trembled. “You have to try,” he said, insisted. “Even if it’s not enough, you- you have to try. Don’t- No regrets. No regrets, Clarisse.”

Clarisse wanted to say she wouldn’t regret not going. She wouldn’t regret leaving Michael to his clearly inevitable fate. If anyone else had told her she would, she’d have punted them out of her sight.

But this was Chris. Chris, who knew regret. Who knew how it felt to lose a soulmate, who knew things in a way she couldn’t.

Who didn’t want to even risk her feeling the same way he did.

“I’ll be too late,” she said, but she was already pulling herself to her feet again, tugging her pants back up and grabbing her spear from where she had dropped it when the pain began.

It still hurt, but it was a pain she could push aside, a pain that let itself be pushed aside.

Part of Clarisse wondered if painful soulmark appearances tied in to the imminent deaths of the soulmate, revealed too soon if only for closure.

She didn’t bother to grab her armour. The thought that she should barely occurred to her; she had her spear, she could fight.

She was only going because Michael was a bastard who she suddenly needed to try and make sure didn’t die. She wasn’t going to join the war.

It was a matter of minutes before she had the pegasi harnessed to the flying chariot and ready to go, and Clarisse didn’t let herself hesitate as she swung herself up into it. Chris jumped up behind her without asking, without her asking, but Clarisse didn’t protest.

“Where are you going?” Ellis was quiet but observant; Clarisse hadn’t noticed the younger boy until he called out. If it was Sherman, she might have told him the truth, but Ellis was too young – and too smart – to hear about a dying soulmate.

“Patrol,” she said shortly. “Tell Sherman he’s in charge until we get back.”

“What about your leg?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Clarisse snapped the reigns and the pegasi leaped into action, charging forwards and into the sky before Ellis could make any more complaints – or astute observations.

“You could’ve told him,” Chris murmured in her ear, his arms wrapped around her waist as they flew.

She shook her head. “They need to stay here,” she said. They needed to stay in camp, guarding camp from any side-blows Kronos might get it into his head to initiate, and also away from the front line of a war that would get them killed as shields for the rest of the campers. If they realised she was running to the war front, regardless of the reason, they’d have used that as an excuse to jump into battle.

Pressed against her back, with only clothes and no armour between them, Clarisse could feel him still shaking. “You didn’t have to come,” she said.

“Yes, I did,” he argued. “You’ll need me, whatever happens.” Even above the wind rushing past them, she could hear him take in a deep breath, “and I think… I need this. He’s not Mary, he’s not mine, but… I have to try, this time.”

“Her death wasn’t your fault,” Clarisse said bluntly, and not for the first time. Chris’ usual response of I know that, but… didn’t come.

“And if Michael dies, it won’t be your fault,” he told her instead, and Clarisse felt like the air had been punched out of her as her leg gave a reminding throb.

“I know that,” she said quickly – too quickly, dammit. “He’s too far away.” She couldn’t even see her soulmark to check how quickly it was fading, but it was still hurting so that had to mean he was still alive, didn’t it? “This is as fast as the chariot goes.” They were hurtling through the sky, far faster than mortal transportation could cross the distance between camp and Manhattan, but it was still going to take time to get there.

The odds of Michael being still alive, or even still saveable, by the time they arrived were slim and there was nothing she could do about it. She knew that, of course it wouldn’t be her fault for not getting there fast enough – and besides, she’d already told Michael to die, prepared to not see his scowling, ferrety asshole face again.

She’d told him to die, though, and now he was dying, and it was stupid but there was part of Clarisse’s chest that was getting too tight. Shit.

Chris’ “I know you do,” was full of understanding.

Their flight passed in silence after that, Clarisse pushing the pegasi as fast as they could fly and ignoring Silena’s voice in the back of her head telling her that she was going too hard on the creatures. Instead, she found her head whirling, running through all her moments with Michael throughout her life and trying to work out where the fuck the Fates saw soulmate in there, because Clarisse couldn’t.

Maybe she had misinterpreted the soulmark. That wasn’t common but could happen; the only confirmation was a matching image on the other’s skin, and until she saw Michael she wouldn’t know – and if his was also on his thigh, she wasn’t going to be seeing that ever, unless she tore his pants off to check. Misinterpretation seemed more likely than it actually being Michael, now that she thought about it, but she was already on a mission, and Chris wouldn’t let her bail out of it without checking.

Hades, but Michael was going to be insufferable if he was perfectly fine and she landed in front of him without even bringing her armour to a war.

Eventually, Manhattan loomed in front of them. It was big, big enough that looking for a single demigod would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. From her birds’ eye view, nothing seemed to be even moving, leaving the city looking dead.

The bridges she flew over bore signs of battle, though. Vines curled out of a tunnel, and chunks of masonry were dislodged in a way that only violence could cause. Where was everyone?

She almost flew in straight towards the towering Empire State Building – if nothing else, they would be near Olympus – but a small instinct in the back of her mind had her veering around the city, following the waters that isolated the island from the rest of New York. Past the Hudson, and over the East River instead.

Williamsburg Bridge was obliterated. What had once been a large, proud bridge was a mass of steel and concrete churned up together in the middle of the river, with only solitary suspension cables still bridging the destruction.

Behind her, Chris breathed out Hades.

Demigods had died here. There was no way they hadn’t. She could even see bodies in the wreckage and surrounding river, although none of them wore orange. Enemy demigods, then.

There was no sign of the living, but Clarisse still brought the chariot down, skimming the bizarrely clean waters – what had Jackson done, that had to be the son of Poseidon’s bullshit powers at work – past floating debris and bodies, until she saw it.

There, on the bank, sopping wet and broken, was a too-small body that had her thigh hurting again, and Clarisse wasted no time in bringing the chariot to land next to it, leaping out before the pegasi had even stopped and leaving Chris to scramble out behind her.

Michael looked dead.

Blood covered the side of his face, an open gash running from temple to cheek and barely missing his eye. His body was twisted and contorted in a way that was wrong, no doubt several broken bones. A spindle of metal erupted from his torso, staining the torn orange top dark red.

Worst of all was the certainty. From the moment she'd spotted him, she'd known he was her soulmate, no need to tear at his pant leg to hunt down a matching mark.

“Shit,” she swore, stumbling down to her knees for the second time since dawn because of Michael, of all people. He was still partially in the water and her shins soaked immediately. “Shit. Don't you dare be dead, you asshole.” Her fingers fumbled at his throat, hunting for a pulse. “Don't you fucking dare, Michael.” Blood and damp skin made it difficult to get a purchase, and Clarisse realised she was shaking as her fingers kept slipping away from his pulse points with no success. “Come on, dammit.” She couldn’t even see if he was breathing.

“Clarisse, he's got a pulse,” Chris said suddenly. She jumped, not having noticed him kneeling next to her. He had one of Michael’s wrists in his grip, and Clarisse tried not to think about how lifeless his limp and dangling hand looked. “There's still a chance.”

A chance, but… “I don't know what to do,” she admitted. She wasn’t a healer - she broke things, she didn't fix them.

“Check if he’s breathing,” Chris directed. He sounded calmer, now, as though Michael being not dead yet was the trigger he needed to get out of his own soulmate trauma. Clarisse heard him rustling with a bag she hadn’t realised he’d brought with them, but focused on doing as she was told, dredging up memories of various Apollo kids over the years as they drilled basic first aid into the rest of the campers over and over again.

It was the closest she’d ever got to Michael without one of them trying to hurt the other, either physically or with barbed words, but she shunted the thought out her mind in favour of leaning over him, her cheek almost touching his lips as she squinted down the wonky line of his body. He wasn’t flat on his back, which meant that she couldn’t really see if his chest was rising and falling, and with the metal spire sticking out of him, she wasn’t about to move him, but she could still focus on her cheek, and the faint tickling sensation of air puffing against it.

“He’s breathing,” she reported, pulling back without taking her eyes off his limp body. It seemed impossible that he was still alive. Clarisse had the horrid suspicion that one wrong action would tip him over the edge, and feared being the one to do it.

Only a few hours ago, she wouldn’t have cared. She still hated Michael; a single soulmark wasn’t enough to undo seven years of constant clashes.

She didn’t want him to die.

“Good,” Chris said. “Here.” She sensed movement in her periphery and glanced over to see her boyfriend holding out a vial of nectar. “I don’t know how much he’s got in his system already so go slow with it. You know the signs of reaching the limit.”

Clarisse took the vial, pulling out the stopper with her teeth. “You are never living this down, you hear me?” she told the unresponsive Michael as she slipped a hand underneath his head, her fingers getting tangled in snarled, wet hair, and slowly tilted it enough to straighten out his throat and part his lips. He didn’t stir, no indication at all that he was anything other than dying, and Clarisse tipped the first drops into his open mouth.

In her periphery, Chris was moving around, flashes of off-white bandages flickering across the edge of her vision, but Clarisse didn’t let herself look away from the golden liquid as drop by drop, it landed on Michael’s tongue and slid towards his throat.

“Come on,” she growled as the first third of the vial disappeared with no visible effects. “Show some signs of life, dammit. This stuff is too valuable to waste on a dead body.”

Michael didn’t stir, even as a third turned into a half, and then two thirds. A golden drop landed on the corner of his mouth, trickling down the outside of his face and she growled at it – at her hand, which had started shaking, until it steadied enough for the rest of the vial to trickle inside his mouth, where it was supposed to be.

He must not have had any godly food earlier, because even with an entire vial – and not a small one, either – there were no tell-tale signs of smouldering lips or tongue. Clarisse dropped the empty vial and before her brain could catch up with her actions, caught the single drop now on his cheek with a finger, dabbing it directly on his tongue.

“Come on, you bastard,” she hissed. “You are not dying on me now.”

She hunted for his pulse again, this time finding the spot on his neck that throbbed lightly.

“Is he still breathing?” Chris asked her. She glanced at him to see that he’d packed bandages around the metal sticking though Michael and was securing them in place with more bandages.

When she ducked her head back down, the puffs of air that hit her cheek felt stronger.

“Still breathing,” she confirmed. “What now?”

“We can’t stay here,” Chris said. “We don’t have the supplies to do any more where we are.”

Clarisse sat back on her haunches and looked at the still-crumpled body between them. “Can we move him?” she asked, although Chris was right. They couldn’t stay where they were. They didn’t know where the titan’s army or the rest of the campers were, or where the next stage of the battle would take place.

Hades, they didn’t even know which side of the battlelines they were. She had an awful suspicion they weren’t in allied territory.

If they were, someone else would’ve come across them by now. Michael wasn’t popular outside of his cabin – Clarisse wasn’t the only one that didn’t like him, which had made all the head counsellors siding with him over her about the chariot hurt even more – but even if no-one else had bothered, the other Apollo kids would still have come to try and help him, if they could.

“Carefully,” Chris stressed. “I’ll bring the chariot closer.”

He stepped away and Clarisse’s attention snapped back to Michael. He still looked pale, underneath the blood. Chris had only bound the impalement, leaving the rest of his wounds untouched, and Clarisse grabbed for the bag, needing something do to while her boyfriend wrangled the pegasi. She’d rather be the one dealing with the chariot, but given Michael was her soulmate, she knew why Chris had swapped roles.

“You are still a bastard,” she told Michael as she wrenched out a cloth and pressed it against the blood on his face. She didn’t have any water to dampen it (the East River might look clean, but she still wasn’t going to trust it) and there was only so much it could do to lift the blood dry, but even clearing some of it away made Michael seem less dead.

She haphazardly covered the gash in gauze and medical tape, a temporary solution until they got back to camp – they had to go back to camp, her cabin were waiting, and even if they found the Apollo kids in Manhattan, there was no guarantee of a safe place to leave a half-dead demigod. Camp was further, but was more likely to keep Michael alive.

Hooves sank into the soft bank next to her, passing by until the open end of the chariot sat next to Michael, and Chris reappeared.

“One of us will need to hold him,” he pointed out. “You or me?”

The chariot was Clarisse’s. “I’ll drive,” she said.

There was also no fucking way she was holding onto Michael for the hour it would take them to get back to camp. Soulmate or not, that was too far.

Chris agreed easily. “Help me lift him up?” he asked, crouching down next to him and gingerly starting to move him. Clarisse knelt on Michael’s other side, painfully aware of how small and fragile he was as, between them, they manoeuvred him onto his back. The metal spur shifted slightly, red starting to bloom on the white bandages surrounding it, and she cursed.

There was nothing they could do about it, though, and Chris scooped him up into his arms as soon as he could. Michael’s head lolled limply, and his right arm slipped to dangle down as Chris stood up. Clarisse grabbed it without thinking, and was halfway to setting it back on Michael’s chest when she saw it.

On the pad of Michael’s pointer finger, the same colour as freshly spilled blood, was a thorn, the exact size and shape as the golden thorn on her thigh.

It hadn’t occurred to her that Michael’s soulmark would be somewhere else on his body, for all that it was hardly uncommon for placements to be different. Now she saw it, though, it was obvious. Her mark was where the arrow had landed, seven years ago. His mark was on one of the fingers that had fired it.

“Clarisse?”

Hurriedly, she let go of the arm, and stepped out of the way so that Chris could step into the chariot. He sat down at the front, his grip on Michael obviously firm, and Clarisse wasted no time in hopping in after him, snatching up the reins and bracing herself for take-off.

Chris and Michael didn’t quite slam into her legs as the pegasi lurched forwards, but she still felt the touch as gravity tried to stake its claim on them, and braced harder. It was easier to be the barrier than the cradle. Still, she kept the acceleration gradual, not letting the pegasi immediately blast into top speed as they flew away from Manhattan and the war – or what seemed more like a temporary cease-fire, from the utter stillness of the city beneath them.

It meant that the flight took longer, and Clarisse couldn’t help the periodic glances down at her boyfriend holding Michael – her soulmate and that still felt as wrong as it did right – hoping that they’d made the right decision to move. That she’d made the right decision to head for camp and the infirmary there rather than hunting down the temporary triage the Apollo kids had no doubt set up somewhere.

Somehow, Michael was still alive when the chariot touched down by the Big House over an hour later, and Clarisse jumped out of the way so Chris could hurry inside the infirmary with him. She didn’t follow him immediately, buying herself some time to think as she unhitched the pegasi and led them back to their stables.

The thinking time flew straight out the window as she reached the stables to see that all the horses had gone. There should’ve been several of them there, but not a single one remained. All of their tack had gone, too, and an encroaching feeling of dread had her running to where the chariots were kept.

Gone.

All gone.

“Sherman!” she roared, abandoning the stables and throwing herself towards her cabin, already knowing it would be empty but hoping that her siblings hadn’t surrendered to the urge to go to war and marched out without her – behind her back.

Unsurprisingly, it was deserted. All their weapons were gone, and their armour, too.

Clarisse’s armour was also gone.

What the fuck? Why had they taken her armour with them?

Why hadn’t she seen them go? She’d flown right over the route they must’ve taken-

Except she hadn’t been looking down. Not at the ground. Her attention had been ahead, at her destination, and at her feet, where Michael’s blood had been slowly staining white bandages red, and sinking into Chris’ clothes, too. Her pants hadn’t escaped, either.

Blood on her pants didn’t matter. What mattered was that her siblings had marched to war despite her best efforts to stop them. Clarisse spun sharply on her heel and stormed out of the cabin, heading straight for the infirmary.

Michael or no Michael, soulmate or no soulmate, she knew where she was supposed to be and it was at the head of her cabin.

“They’ve gone!” she raged as she stormed into the infirmary. “All the chariots, all our weapons. Sherwin’s marched them to war!”

Chris’ head jerked up from where he was standing over one of the infirmary beds. Clarisse deliberately didn’t look at the small body laying on it.

“I’m going after them,” she said, before her boyfriend could say anything. “You-”

“Okay,” Chris interrupted her. “Okay, but before you go, I need your help here.”

“I don’t have time to waste!” she argued. “They could have left immediately-”

“The pegasi need a rest,” he overrode her. “You can’t go charging back out there after pushing them so hard already today. Let them breathe. They’re still faster than the other chariots – you’ll make up most of the time even if you hang on another five minutes, and I need your help here. Now.”

It was the sharp now that caught her attention, and she reluctantly trudged closer, unable to help looking at Michael as she did so. The metal was still sticking up out of him ominously, and the surrounding bandages looked close to saturation. Chris had somehow stripped Michael down to the waist despite it, and Clarisse could finally see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

The sight settled something in her, although it barely touched the agitation at her missing siblings. He was still alive.

Her soulmate was still alive.

Her soulmate or her siblings?

Clarisse scowled. “Five minutes only,” she said, glaring at Michael. It was his fault she was delaying, still a thorn in her side even when he was unconscious. “What is it?”

“This needs to come out,” Chris said, gesturing at the metal. It glistened in the light of the infirmary, beads of blood pooling in its twists. “I need you to put as much pressure as you can on the bandages while I extract it.”

“Fine,” Clarisse said shortly, crossing the last few steps to Michael’s bedside. The blood-soaked bandages felt wrong under her fingers, and so did the idea of leaning on the wound with all her strength, but she knew Chris was right.

The metal had to come out, and Michael had to not bleed out in the process.

She braced herself, pushing down hard enough that a split-second choked cry came from the unconscious teen’s mouth, making her jump. The unconscious weren’t supposed to make noises, although she thought it was supposed to be a good sign that he was responding to some stimuli again.

Chris ignored the noise. He’d pulled on gloves, and wrapped his hands firmly around the metal. “On three,” he said. “One… Two… Three.” On three, he pulled, and Clarisse had to fight to keep Michael’s body flat against the bed, and at least some of his blood still in his body as the twisted spire of metal slowly tore itself free.

Michael let out another cry and his fingers jerked, but a glance at his face showed that he was still completely unconscious. Clarisse scowled and pressed down harder as blood started to leak through the bandages.

As soon as the metal was clear, Chris was working around her hands, flushing out the wound and starting to stitch it up. Clarisse could do nothing except stay still and will Michael’s blood to stay in his body, where it was supposed to be.

It was much longer than five minutes before Chris was done, pulling away the last of the blood-soaked bandages and covering the stitched-up wound with fresh supplies.

“He was lucky,” he said as he stripped the bloodied gloves from his hands. “It didn’t go all the way through, and it was far enough away from his core that it didn’t puncture anything fatal.” He sagged against the bed. “I’m not an Apollo kid, but I think he should pull through.”

Clarisse hadn’t realised how much she needed to hear those words until they washed over her.

Fuck Michael for being her soulmate and suddenly being important to her. Maybe he was tolerable while unconscious and near-death, but as soon as he was awake and talking again, she was going to remember why she hated him so much, she knew. He was going to be insufferable about being her soulmate and she was going to wish she’d left him to die.

“I’ll stay here and keep an eye on him,” Chris continued. “Are you still going after your cabin?” That was a stupid question she knew he already knew the answer to.

“Those idiots need me,” she said, “and I’m going to kick their asses for entering the war!”

“Okay,” he accepted. “Be careful, and if I see even a hint of grey on Michael’s finger, I’m going to kill you, even if I have to bring you back from the Underworld first.”

Clarisse glanced down at the finger in question. The thorn was still full of colour, unapologetically red and confirming that Clarisse, at least, was in no imminent danger of death where she stood. She found herself wishing that her own mark was somewhere easier to check, before pushing the thought out of her mind.

She was going to war. She did not need distractions.

“You won’t have to,” she swore. He gave her a thin smile and stood up, bracing his hands on her shoulders.

“Give them hell,” he said. “Then come back.” He kissed her, briefly but firmly. “We’ll be waiting.”

She glanced back over at Michael instinctively; he looked better without metal sticking out of him, but he still didn’t look well. Her feet dragged her over to his side and she looked down at him, crossing her arms.

“Don’t you fucking dare die on me now, Michael,” she said. “I need your ass alive so I can kick it later for being my soulmate.” And scaring me when you’re not supposed to be someone I care about.

Chris chuckled. “I’ll do my best to make sure he doesn’t,” he promised. “Shoo. You’ve got a war to fight.”

“Damn straight I do,” she growled, and with one last glance at both of them, boyfriend and soulmate (both safely away from the war and staying that way), she spun on her heel and marched out.

It was time for the daughter of war to fight.

tbc...

#percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfic #clarisse la rue #michael yew #chris rodriguez #sherman yang #ellis wakefield #tsari writes fanfiction #soulmate au #lodged thorn

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novemberwasgrey · 1 year

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do you still write about chris and clarisse??

I do!

Actually, even though it's far from complete, I'm currently finishing a collection of all the one shots I ever wrote about them. Some are old ones and prompts posted here and others are brand new ones. I'll probably post it in a few months when I'll get more free time after my graduation.

#I'm so proud and anxious of this collection #it's basically my baby #clarisse la rue #chris rodriguez #chrisse #ares cabin #hermes cabin #there will be some cecellis mentions as well #cecil markowitz #ellis wakefield

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fixomnia-scribble · 1 month

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WOW.

Scientists found an amazingly well-preserved village from 3,000 years ago

Text below, in case article access dries up:

LONDON — A half-eaten bowl of porridge complete with wooden spoon, communal rubbish bins, and a decorative necklace made with amber and glass beads are just a handful of the extraordinarily well-preserved remnants of a late Bronze Age hamlet unearthed in eastern England that’s been dubbed “Britain’s Pompeii” and a “time capsule” into village life almost 3,000 years ago.

The findings from the site, excavated in 2015 to 2016, are now the subject of two reports, complete with previously unseen photos, published this week by University of Cambridge archaeologists, who said they cast light onto the “cosy domesticity” of ancient settlement life.

“It might be the best prehistoric settlement that we’ve found in Britain,” Mark Knight, the excavation director and a co-author of the reports, said in an interviewThursday. “We took the roofs off and inside was pretty much the contents,” he said. “It’s so comprehensive and so coherent.”

The reason for the rare preservation: disaster.

The settlement, thought to have originally consisted of several large roundhouses made of wood and constructed on stilts above a slow-moving river, was engulfed by a fire less than a year after being built.

During the blaze, the buildings and much of their contents collapsed into a muddy river below that “cushioned the scorched remains where they fell,” the university said of the findings. This combination of charring from the fire and waterlogging led to “exceptional preservation,” the researchers found.

“Because of the nature of the settlement, that it was burned down and its abandonment unplanned, everything was captured,” Knight added.

“As we excavated it, there was that feeling that we were picking over someone else’s tragedy,” he said of the eerie site in the swampy fenland of East Anglia. “I don’t think we could smell the fire but the amount of ash around us — it felt close.”

Researchers said they eventually unearthed four large wooden roundhouses and an entranceway structure, but the original settlement was probably “twice as big.”

The site at Must Farm dates to about 850 B.C., eight centuries before Romans came to Britain. Archaeologists have been shocked at “just how clear the picture is” of late Bronze Age life based on the level of detail uncovered, Knight said.

The findings also showed that the communities lived “a way of life that was more sophisticated than we could have imagined,” Duncan Wilson, head of Historic England, the public body responsible for preserving England’s historic environment, said in a statement.

The findings unearthed include a stack of spears, possibly for hunting or defense; a decorative necklace “with beads from as far away as Denmark and Iran”; clothes of fine flax linen; and a female adult skull rendered smooth, “perhaps a memento of a lost loved one,” the research found.

The inhabitants’ diet was also rich and varied, including boar, pike and bream, along with wheat and barley.

A pottery bowl with the finger marks of its maker in the clay was also unearthed, researchers said, still containing its final meal — “a wheat-grain porridge mixed with animal fats” — with a wooden spatula resting inside the bowl.

“It appears the occupants saved their meat juices to use as toppings for porridge,” project archaeologist Chris Wakefield said in the university’s news release. “Chemical analyses of the bowls and jars showed traces of honey along with ruminant meats such as deer, suggesting these ingredients were combined to create a form of prehistoric honey-glazed venison,” he added.

Skulls of dogs — probably kept as pets and to help with hunting — were also uncovered, and the dogs’ fossilized feces showed they fed on scraps from their owners’ meals, the research found.

The buildings, some connected by walkways, may have had up to 60 people living there all together, Knight said, along with animals.

Although no intact sets of human remains were found at the site, indicating that the inhabitants probably fled the fire safely, several sheep bones were found burned indoors. “Skeletal remains showed the lambs were three to six months old, suggesting the settlement was destroyed sometime in late summer or early autumn,” according to the university’s news release.

Ceramic and wooden vessels including tiny cups, bowls and large storage jars were also found. Some pots were even designed to nest, stacked inside one another, Knight said — evidence of an interest in aesthetics as well as practicality.

A lot of similar items were found replicated in each home, Knight added, painting the picture of completely independent homesteads for each family unit rather than distinct buildings for shared tasks — much like we live today.

Household inventories often included metal tools, loom weights, sickles for crop harvesting, axes and even handheld razors for cutting hair.

The roundhouses — one of which had almost 50 square meters (nearly 540 square feet) of floor space — had hearths and insulated straw and clay roofs. Some featured activity zones for cooking, sleeping and working akin to modern-day rooms.

The Must Farm settlement has produced the largest collection of everyday Bronze Age artifacts ever discovered in the United Kingdom, according to Historic England, which partly funded the 1.1 million pound ($1.4 million) excavation project.

The public body labeled the site a “time capsule,” including almost 200 wooden artifacts, over 150 fiber and textile items, 128 pottery vessels and more than 90 pieces of metalwork. Some items will go on display at the nearby Peterborough Museum next month.

Archaeologists never found a “smoking gun” cause for the fire, Knight said. Instead, they suspect it was either an attack from “outside forces,” which may explain why the inhabitants never returned to collect their possessions from the debris, or an accidental blaze that spread rapidly across the tightly nestled homes.

“Probably all that was left was the people and what they were wearing; everything else was left behind,” Knight said of the fire.

But the preservation has left a window for people to look back through in the future. “You could almost see and smell their world,” he said.

“The only thing that was missing was the inhabitants,” Knight added. “And yet … I think they were there — you certainly got glimpses.”

#archaeology #bronze age #UK archaeology #excavations

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oughttobeclowns · 2 years

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News: The Great British Bake Off Musical Prepares to Transfer to the Noël Coward Theatre

Mark Goucher Productions have announced that The Great British Bake Off Musical will transfer to the West End opening at the Noël Coward Theatre for a limited twelve-week run from 25 February to 13 May 2023. Created in association with Creative Director and Executive Producer Richard McKerrow and the producers of the TV phenomenon, Love Productions, this musical comedy has perfectly reimagined…

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#Aharon Rayner #Catriana Sandison #Charlotte Wakefield #Chris Poon #Claire Moore #Damian Humbley #Georgina Lamb #Jake Brunger #Jay Saighal #John Owen-Jones #Mark Collins #Michael Cahill #Pippa Cleary #Scott Paige

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nashmusicguide · 2 years

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Inside Track on Music Row - Summer 2022 Edition

Loretta Lynn celebrates her 90th at Opry… Chris Stapleton adds “Concert for Kentucky”… Garth Brooks honky-tonk set for Nashville’s downtown… Morgan Wallen‘s album sets chart record… The Judds head out on tour… Struts sign with BMLG

Quotes of the Month: “I think music in itself is healing. It’s an explosive expression of humanity. It’s something we are all touched by. No matter what culture we’re from, everyone loves music.” – Billy Joel Shout joyfully to the LORD, all the earth; Break forth and sing for joy and sing praises. – Psalm 98:4 Album News: The expansive release behind multi-Platinum entertainer Jason Aldean’s…

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theexodvs · 2 years

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Kid: “Do grown-ups play doctor, too?”

Me: “Well, sure! There’s Andrew Wakefield, Kevin Trudeau, Simon Baron-Cohen, ETM Laan, Chris Donaghue…”

#andrew wakefield #kevin trudeau #simon baron cohen #simon baron-cohen #etm laan #E T M Laan #E.T.M. Laan #Chris Donaghue #playing doctor #quackery #quack #quacks #pseudomedicine #pseudomedical

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freddie-77-ao3 · 2 months

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Riordanverse in Shades of Rainbow

queer sexualities and genders of various campers, gods, and other characters in the CHB universe.

Percy Jackson- trans guy, he/him. bisexual/biromantic

Annabeth Chase- cis girl, she/her. bisexual/biromantic.

Thalia Grace- non-binary, they/she. lesbian.

Grover Underwood- non-binary, they/he. panromantic/asexual.

Luke Castellan- cis guy, he/him. bisexual/biromantic.

Jason Grace- cis guy, he/him. gay. comp-het hit hard.

Miranda Gardiner- cis girl, she/her. straight.

Katie Gardner- cis girl, she/her. pansexual/panromantic.

Sherman Yang- cis guy, he/him, straight.

Ellis Wakefield- trans guy, he/him/ gay.

Clarisse La Rue- trans girl, she/her. poly and pan.

Malcolm Pace- trans guy, he/him. asexual, queer-- he likes girls and connor. Maybe boys? undecided, he's choosing not to think about it.

Lee Fletcher- trans guy, he/him. gay.

Michael Yew- trans guy, he/him. gay.

Will Solace- trans guy, he/him. bisexual/biromantic.

Austin Lake- cis guy, he/him, undecided.

Kayla Knowles- cis girl, she/her. lesbian.

Reyna Ramirez Arellano- cis girl, she/her. asexual, homoromantic.

Charles Beckendorf- cis guy, he/him, poly, bi.

Jake Mason- cis guy, he/him, bi.

Leo Valdez- cis guy, he/him, pan.

Nyssa Barerra- cis girl, she/her. lesbian.

Silena Beauregard- cis girl, she/her. poly, bi.

Drew Tanaka- trans girl, she/her. asexual, aromantic.

Piper McLean- cis girl, she/her. lesbian with a lot of comp-het.

Connor Stoll- non-binary, they/them. doesn't know, doesn't care. if you ask them, they'll start thinking, and then get distracted by something completely different. they're asexual though.

Travis Stoll- cis guy, he/him, bi.

Chris Rodriguez- cis guy, he/him, poly, bi (leaning toward guys)

Cecil Markowitz- trans guy, he/they. gay.

Nico di Angelo- cis guy, he/him, gay.

Lou Ellen Blackstone- trans girl, she/her. aromantic lesbian.

Hazel Levesque- cis girl, she/her. bicurious.

Clovis- trans guy, he/him. queer but doesn't care any more about it.

Frank Zhang- cis guy, he/him, straight.

Mitchell- trans guy, he/him. gay.

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will-solace-aaaaa · 14 days

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Riordanverse RP Canon Demigods&Stuff

To join the RP go to:

Percy: @that-dam-son-of-poseidon Annabeth: @annabeth-in-your-chase

Hazel: @hazel-is-confused

Frank: @frank-zhang-skreee

Jason: @jason-graceeeeee

Piper: @piper-mclean-raaa

Leo: @leo-valdez-graaa

Will: @will-solace-aaaaa

Nico: @nico-the-ghost-king /@nico-di-angelo-aaaaa /@nico-son-of-hades

Naomi: @miss-naomi-solace

Magnus: @magnus-falafelking

Alex: @alex-fierro-pr-nightmare

Kayla: @kaylaknowles-yaaaaaaaaaaaaaa /@apollos-favorite-child

Thalia: @best-dam-huntress /@thalia-grace-aaaaaa

Clarisse: @everyone-is-a-punk

Silena: @silena-styles /@silena-beauregard-official

Connor: @the-better-stoll-brother Travis: @travis-stollllllllll

Octavian: @askoctavianhoo

Bianca: @that-one-dead-sister

Zoe: @zoe-can-see-the-stars-again

Sally: @percys-blue-food-vendor

Samirah: @that-hijabi-loki-spawn

Katie: @lovely-katie-gardner

Charles: @explodes-cutely Chris: @whooptheregoesmysanity

Reyna: @bow-down-to-rara Ethan: @that-avenging-demigod

Rachel: @badass-bitch-with-blue-hairbrush

Sadie: @isises-specialist-girl Walt/

Anubis: @normal-teen-and-mummy-godahhhhh

Meg: @apollo-is-my-servant

Clovis: @the-eeper-yippee

Ellis: @ellis--wakefield

Lavinia: @i-tap-dance

Dakota: @never-too-much-kool-aid

Rachel: @rachel-elizabeth-dareeeee /@rachel-dare-aaaaaaa

#pjo #pjo hoo #hoo #percy jackson #pjo hoo toa tsats #tsats #pjo hoo toa #toa #mcatgoa #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #tkc #the kane chronicles #rick riordan #riordanverse

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phoenix--flying · 1 year

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hello I'm on another TA rant 🤞

We only have five canon TA members who are named, Luke Castellan, Chris Rodriguez, Ethan Nakamura, Silena Beauregard, and, Alabaster Torrington. So I'm gonna expand on these guys as well as introduce some other canon characters I hc as former TA members who returned to/joined CHB and when they joined the TA.

Luke, Silena and Chris were in the army from the start, after TLT. Ethan joined during BoTL. We don't know when Alabaster joined.

I've headcannoned that Alabaster and Ethan left CHB after TLT through the Labyrinth entrance by Zeus's fist, there they were just kinda rogue until around TTC while they're separated, Alabaster runs into a scouting group from the TA and is brought to Luke. He joins at 14/15.

The other canon kids I hc as former members include ; - Ellis Wakefield - Mitchell - Valentina Diaz - Cecil Markowitz - Lou Ellen Blackstone - Clovis - Harley

allow me to explain 🤞

Ellis, Mitchell and Clovis were picked up by the early TA while they were alone, before they came to CHB, Luke explains what they are and who the TA is and what they're fighting for. They join the TA. All three of them remain in the TA until the war ends.

Valentina was an unclaimed demigod in the Hermes cabin, resentful and angry and wondering who her mother was. When Luke left, whe followed. She also stays in the TA until the war ends.

Cecil was, also, an unclaimed demigod in the Hermes cabin(like dude rlly) when Luke left, he was inclined to join but he didn't want to leave his friends. But when Chris tells him 'Hey, I'm leaving. Feel free to IM of you decide you want to come.' he decides to join. He stays in the TA until the war ends.

Lou Ellen was again, an unclaimed demigod, or that's what most people thought. Hecate, unlike most gods, make her children aware she is their mother but warns them that she can't claim them due to the lack of respect, naturally, this annoys her children. So when Alabaster disappears and Cecil decides to leave, she follows. She stays in the TA until the Andromeda explosion, then she leaves. She doesn't rejoin camp until a few weeks after the war ends.

HARLEY 💖💖💖 this is based on an idea from @m4gp13 in the server 🤞 As we know, in SoM, the Princess Andromeda was populated with misted mortals. Harleys mortal family, his mother, her husband and their kids, were in those misted mortals. It isn't until Harley starts to notice the monsters do the TA realize he's a demigod. Harley is happy to stay aboard when they drop the mortals off when they explain that he's a demigod. He stays until the end of the war.

#pjo #titan army #luke castellan #ethan nakamura #silena beauregard #alabaster torrington #ellis wakefield #mitchell pjo #valentina diaz #cecil markowitz #lou ellen blackstone #clovis pjo #harley pjo #chris rodriguez #headcanons #phoenix headcanons

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garadinervi · 6 months

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Seeing in Tongues, Edited and Designed by James Knight, Steel Incisors, 2023 (book here) (pdf here)

An anthology of contemporary visual poetry, including work by Muhammed Yusuf Aktekin, Brian Baker, Gary Barwin, Jay Besemer, Richard Biddle, C D Boyland, ReVerse Butcher, Kenneth M Cale, Susie Campbell, Richard Carter, Burak Ş Çelik, Theodoros Chiotis, George Clutterbuck, Madelaine Culver, Amanda Earl, Alexis Fedorjaczenko, Emma Filtness, S J Fowler, Sylee Gore, Arden Hunter, Victoria Kaye, James Kearns, Robert Frede Kenter, Laura Kerr, Michelle Moloney King, James Knight, Ayşe Kongur, Emma Levin, Emma Mitchell, Bob Modem, Sophia Mold, Morphic Rooms, Mette Norrie, Michael L Orr, Michelle Penn, Konstantinos Papacharalampos, Astra Papachristodoulou, Dan Power, Dave Read, Imogen Reid, Rasiqra Revulva, Hakan Şarkdemir, J P Seabright, Rachel Smith, Chris Stephenson, Samuel Strathman, Nic Stringer, Stephen Sunderland, Michael Sutton, Simon Tyrrell, Hayriye Ünal, Nico Vassilakis, Maggs Vibo, Martin Wakefield & Bob Modem, Katy Wimhurst, Paul Woodford, Mark Wynne and Jill Zheng

#graphic design #art #visual poetry #book #cover #book cover #james knight #steel incisors #2020s

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briamichellewrites · 2 months

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1998. Bria Michelle Johnson was the adopted daughter of investor, Chris Johnson and makeup designer, Rita Johnson. Together, their net worth was in the multi-billions. They spoiled their daughter with whatever she wanted growing up. She went to a boarding school in Switzerland where she was able to participate in their theatre program. They also paid for voice lessons, acting classes, piano and guitar lessons; and dance lessons. She learned ballet, jazz, and hip-hop.

With only three hundred students, the school was quite small. They knew that if given a chance, she would be on stage performing. Whether it was dancing during talent shows or performing in one of their plays or musicals. She often had the lead role because of her talents. Her parents tried to see her performances whenever they could.

At eighteen years old, she learned that her parents were killed in a car accident. A driver under the influence of drugs and alcohol crashed into their car at over a hundred miles an hour. They both died on impact. Because of their deaths, she was given everything. That included their house in Los Angeles, their apartment in Waldorf-Astoria, their car collection, a private plane, a house in the Hamptons, and a house in Middletown, New Jersey.

After graduating, she returned home to LA. She had nothing, as everything had to go through the probate court before it legally became hers. Her family’s attorney allowed her to live in the house until everything was settled. She could then sell or keep whatever she wanted. The house was her childhood home, so she wanted to keep it.

She was introduced to Brad Delson and Mike Shinoda by Jeff Blue, an A&R guy for Warner Music. He heard her demo and he had her come in for an audition. Once she was signed, he had her meet them. They introduced themselves to her. It’s nice to meet you. What kind of music was she looking to play? Indie folk or country. She wanted to tell stories like Bruce Springsteen. Even though she had grown up in Switzerland and LA.

Jeff had her play something for them, so she got a guitar that was lying around and picked it up. When she sang, they heard her voice. It sounded like nineteen-sixties folk rock. Maybe a little Johnny Cash or Joan Baez. When she was done, they clapped for her. Where did she learn how to sing? She had voice lessons in school. What school did she go to? She went to Saint George’s Boarding School in Switzerland. They had a performing arts program.

Boarding school? What was that like? It was an interesting experience. She guessed it was like college, except with more adult supervision. They laughed. What else did she learn? Did she take any music lessons or classes? She took piano lessons, dance classes, and acting classes. For dance, she took jazz, hip-hop, and ballet. It was a great way to work out.

She had to be on stage performing, even when she fell on her ass. They laughed. That happened once during a ballet recital. She got up, bowed, and then went back to the choreography. They wanted to help her with her album, so they invited her to join them. At the moment, they were using Mike’s in-home studio to make demos. They thought she would get along well with their band members. She thought it sounded like a cool idea, so she accepted their invitation.

Mike lived in a rented house with his college roommate, Joe Hahn. Together, they formed a band with Brad, Rob Bourdon, and Dave ‘Phoenix’ Farrell. They were currently looking for a lead singer after firing Mark Wakefield. He and Brad introduced her when she came over. The guys thought she was beautiful! Joe offered her a coke.

Yeah, thanks. They found she fit in perfectly with them. She could tolerate their sense of humor and she wasn’t afraid of being the only girl. Her long brown hair had been dyed black and cut short to her chin. It was hidden underneath a beanie. She had tights underneath shorts with an oversized Bon Jovi t-shirt and a plaid long-sleeve top. Dave asked if she was going grunge. She was feeling a little Seattle rock at the moment.

She was thinking of piercing the cartilage in her nose and getting a tattoo to honor her parents. What happened to them? They were killed by a driver under the influence of drugs and alcohol. I’m sorry. Thank you. She also wanted to adopt a kitten.

“Decisions. Decisions. What will you decide to do”, Rob joked.

“I don’t know. I’m indecisive. I’ve always wanted a cat but I’ve never been able to. It wouldn’t have been fair because I was at school.”

“Bria, get the cat”, Joe said.

“I might have to give into peer pressure.”

They laughed. Did she get the cat? She did! Woody was an eight-week-old brown and white domestic shorthair kitten. Everything about him was adorable! He meowed at her and pawed at her leg, making her crouch down to him. Hi, human! She said hello to him and scratched his little head. He got excited when he saw he was getting adopted. I’m going home! Meow. Meow.

They went to Petsmart to get everything he needed. He had a collar and a leash, which were required in the store. As they walked around, he looked at everything while in the cart. He was curious about everything! There was so much to see and smell and hear! There were humans everywhere! He wanted to say hello to them. Meow. Meow. Some of the workers stopped to say hello to him. Hi, human! I’m Woody! I got adopted today!

He wanted to play on the belt at the register, but Bria picked him up. She didn’t want his little paws getting smashed. When they got to the car, she put him back into his carrier before putting the purchases in the backseat. Yes, she had an assistant who usually did the shopping for her, but she wanted to do this herself. Nicole was hired by her mother to take over the day-to-day responsibilities.

She was a woman in her twenties who had recently moved to LA from New York. They also had a long-time housekeeper named, Rosita. She and her husband, Miguel immigrated from Mexico in 1990. They both loved Bria and her parents because they were so kind to them. Her parents gave them money when they needed help paying bills or expensive gifts. They were considered family to them. Bria was not a spoiled brat, despite her immense wealth.

She was taught to never look down on anyone and to always be thankful for what she had. Everything could be taken away from her at any moment. Woody had zero knowledge of that. He was involved in watching his human put everything together for him. His water and food bowls went into the kitchen. She filled up the bowl with water before setting it down. His litter box went into the laundry room.

His toys, bed, and cat tree went into the living room. He had everything a kitten could need and want. For the moment, he wanted to play. Bria went into the kitchen and found the takeout menus. She looked through them as she thought about where she wanted to order from. As she made up her mind, the phone rang. It was Dave. She invited him over and gave him her address. After hanging up, she ordered pizza to be delivered. She then went to the living room to play with Woody.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia

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