i'm tragically funny and good-looking.

[forgests-blog]

firabo:

          It’s not every day that you see a child working on such an odd contraption, attention solely focused on what he was working on while he paid no heed to the few people who stopped to look for just a few moments before going on their way. He stays to watch unlike the others though but he keeps a good distance away from him, afraid to break his concentration. It’s interesting to watch, to see how he puts things together. 

          And then it happens, his sleeve catches on fire and he’s up and flailing and swatting at it in an attempt to put it out. Sabo doesn’t have any idea what to do other than stand there and watch in horror for a few moments before noticing a nearby water fountain. It probably won’t help much, but he fills both of his hands full of water and rushes over to the boy, throwing it onto the sleeve of his shirt. It’s put out…thank goodness, seems like it was just enough.

          ❝ Woah, are you all right!? ❞ wait, his entire sleeve is soaked in water now. That’s not good either. ❝ Sorry–I just couldn’t find a better way to help and that seemed to be the fastest way! ❞ 

          ❝ Really, I’ll buy you a new shirt if you need one. That’s your last one, right? ❞

Making fire was easy, sure! Simple stuff, like a light switch. He’d gotten used to it after a while, and now it was a function just like breathing. But putting it out once things had caught fire...now that was a whole other ballgame. Why do you think he ended up with so much singed clothing? If he wasn’t concentrating, they were unsalvageable, something he’d ended up getting scolded for on multiple occasions.

It’s dying slowly, but the rapid pattings of oily hands aren’t doing too much to help. The warmth is radiating from it, but he barely feels anything else, and he seems to be ignorant to the fact people are more concerned for his own skin than his clothing like he is. And then there’s somebody else, somebody beside him, and there’s a cool splash on his arm which douses the flame instantly and sticks the singed, wet material to his skin. He picks up the burnt edges and lets them drop, running a sooty hand through his already dirty curls with a groan.

“If you can count looking totally lame in public as alright, then I’m absolutely, positively dandy! That’s the old people’s way of saying great, right?” He lets his hand drop to his hips, now giving the other his full attention.

“Nah, you’re good, man. Thanks for the life-saving efforts, I’ll be sure to include it in my will. Half my estate to the man who poured water on my sleeve.” 

“It is, but I think a poor youth like me can scramble up five dollars for a pretty white t-shirt. Might take me a while, but hey, then I don’t have to hide this sweet bod from the public.” The grin on his face hides how frustrated he is at the lack of clothing he has left. Really, only one spare outfit? Couldn’t they maybe give the flammable kid like, 6? 10? A dozen?

[thewrathwithin]

Iɴ ᴛʜᴇ Gᴀʀᴅᴇɴ...

[forgests-blog]

thewrathwithin:

   ☣ “… Leo?”

   It was a bright summer day, and while it was enjoyable Ava was beginning to feel like summer was dragging on too long. Soon fall and winter would come, and she would have to find ways to keep the warm climate plants alive. It had been when she was perusing and thinking to herself when she had found him sitting alone. He looked tired for whatever reason, but she could ask him about that eventually. Dark curls stood out against the greenery and color, and if he had been trying to hide he did a terrible job.

    ☣ “Not that I don’t mind you being here… just… why are you here?”

forgests​

Busted.

It had just been...a getaway. A multiple buildup of everything that had happened could weigh on a teenager’s mind, even if said teenager had experienced quite a few questionable things in the past few months back home. Still, some time to think would be appreciated, and for once, he opted not to sit amongst the metal piles. He didn’t think he’d be caught, since he had planned on leaving, but nothing could be done now. He puts his hands up in surrender, the bags under his eyes stark.

“You got me! I’m making my new home here. Nice and cozy, all the....leaves n’ stuff.” His smile is still there, but it’s evident he’s not up to snuff as usual.

“Sorry, Ava. Hasn’t really been my day. Or week. Or two, I guess, if you want to get real specific. Guess I should really work on my hide n’ seek skills.”

[robottiques]

.sparks

[forgests-blog]

robottiques:

Usually a “thank you” would have sufficed. But the point Leo was quick to make was not without its foundations.

“Hey, I said I was sorry! It’s not every day you see a guy nearly set himself alight in a park! What would you do?” Doubling back a few steps, Hiro gave him room to gain his own ground, dark eyes widening at the blossom of a flame elicited at his fingertip. The sight was nearly enough to make Hiro drop the empty can he held in hand– nearly.

“Dude–!” The initial exclamation was slung right back at the stranger, the can landing with a light crunch upon the adjacent picnic table as Hiro moved in, brown eyes scouring the point of the flame’s manifestation in pursuit of any trickery of the eye. But if there was some clever way about this impression of magic…even he couldn’t see it.

“Wait so you’re seriously– how!? Are you some kind of genetically-modified human? Bit by a radioactive spider? What’s your story? You gotta tell me now.” The demand left the boy’s lips without a second more spared to reinforce his former misgivings about dowsing the other in a shower of soda. After all, he’d just been about shelling out a public service…how was he supposed to know the guy-nearly-on-fire also happened to be Mr. Match?

“It’s no wonder you could do all this without breaking out a blowtorch.” The next observation came in regards to the scrap metal just beginning to manifest shape and form beneath Leo’s careful construction. And, with a brow quirked slightly at the strange assortment, Hiro couldn’t help but to regard ever closer the mess of aforementioned junk with a childish curiosity suited to his age.

“What are you building, anyway…?”

“Uh...check out the awesome show? Come on, not many people manage to make themselves a human bonfire. Gotta admit that’s pretty cool.”

Sarcasm is laid on pretty thick, but naturally, that’s how he tended to work. A dismissive wave of the hand follows, flame following in it’s wake. He’s not too used to other people examining it like some kinda scientist, but the enthusiastic way the other boy eyes up the flickering fire makes his shoulders relax. Even if he had soaked Leo’s shirt and hair was soaked in cola, he didn’t seem like a bad guy.

“As cool as being the next spider-boy would be, not even close. It’s a bit cooler than that. Like, way cooler. Take those and multiply it by like...50.” Maybe he was exaggerating it a little, but a guy like him could never pass up a chance to impress, especially when it came to what he had grown to utilize instead of fear. The flame extinguishes itself, and a hand presses to his chest dramatically.

“The Leo Valdez, the coolest Demigod you will probably ever meet. If you see a guy named Jason, just know he wishes he was as cool as me. And didn’t you ever learn to say ‘please, oh great master mechanic’? That’s a total F in manners, final grade.” A bit of humor to take the edge off the feelings that have been digging at him for a while. Ignore the fact he was being demanded by the coke-showerer. He steps closer to the younger’s inspection of the device and picks it up in slightly calloused hands, the result of his short time at Camp Half Blood 5 feet deep in projects.

“Nothing much, just a little something to pass the time. Remembered I said I’d make some cool chick’s remote control car even better, started pulling it apart and modifying it. See, I started adding onto the motor, connected some parts, and in a few, you’ll see this baby tear up the streets, Fast and Furious style.”

Not his normal thing, but hey, itchy fingers needed something to do.

“But, it’s not even a quarter as good as my pride and joy. Was probably too big to fit into that tiny room they shoved me into, though. Talk about terrible service. I mean, a guy turned me into gold once, and he was a better host than these guys.”

[forgests-blog]

“There is no god.”

[robottiques]

.sparks

[forgests-blog]

robottiques:

Hive City was by now a familiar backdrop, home to a familiar scene, and a familiar set of do’s and don’ts (not that this hooligan did often abide by them). So when Hiro Hamada happened to receive the text indicating he return “straight home” from the shop…it was only natural for the boy to think of taking the scenic route.

A can of soda in hand, and a plastic bag bearing an assortment of snacks all but sealed beneath his elbow, it was through the park Hiro traipsed in silence, wondering what misdemeanor had at last called his brother to attention to initiate the text. Worried albeit he was, even this significant pondering could not manage to outweigh the sight upon which he’d come in the course of his walk.

Largely abandoned save for a reasonably-sized picnic table, the park was always an open invitation for a breath of fresh air and a little tinkering. A unique thought attributed to the Hamada brothers alone…or so Hiro had presumed. Yet there he did come upon the sight of an unfamiliar set of shoulders; brows knitted in concentration as the fellow youth sat with his attentions focused heavily upon the mess of mechanics before him. And then, when Hiro had grown just within range to maybe catch a glimpse of what he was working on–

—-he sparked.

Hiro’s reaction was swift, the can of soda he bore in hand turned on its head to empty its contents over the boy’s shoulder. So in the instant the flame had been doused he could only blink, wondering vaguely whether what he thought he’d seen was just some trick of the mind. Of course, there was no way to tell now…just an awkward situation thrust between two youthful inventors– one a bit soggy…and the other never wishing more than at that moment that he could melt into the greenery beneath his feet. But in lack of that astounding super-ability, Hiro stuttered out the only words which came to mind:

“S……sorry. You were…on fire?”

>> forgests

Losing oneself in thought is often a habit of somebody sinking into a bad place, and this is evident in the son of Hephaestus especially. Despite the weight in his chest, his philosophy had always worked for him before...for the most part, anyway. So, trying it here wouldn’t hurt, would it? 

Just move on, don’t let the sadness catch up.

This meant submerging himself in the things he liked, which involved grabbing a hot beverage and a sandwich to sate his hunger from a nearby cafe with a double pistol and a wink tossed at the waitress on his way out. Never mind the fact his eating habits had been scarce lately, he could fix that. Nothing a little ham and cheese couldn’t fix.

He had loaded up on the parts he could find, ones that clicked with the ingrained sense that came with the kind of blood he had. It was like a second nature, picking through garbage and picking out had-been junk that would suit his needs well enough. He had loaded up on enough to fill two plastic bags, albeit heavy ones, and it had taken a bit of heaving to get it to a suitable workspace. One bite of a sandwich later and a messy pile dumped on scratched wood, he went to work, rolling dirty screws and wires between his fingers.

It happens without his knowledge, as it always done when he’s dead to everything but what’s in front of him, assembling pieces and using the occasional usage of heat to fix it into place, but this time it’s accompanied by a very unexpected happening. He’s just examining a joint, a half-finished creature in front of him, when all of a sudden a cold and sticky liquid shower assaults his skin. It’s in his hair, dripping down his face, staining his clean shirt, and Leo is on his feet and a torrent of spanish curses slip from his lips as he pushes wet curls out of his eyes.

“Dude!” That’s the first thing Hiro gets in response, demigod goosestepping out of his seat to squint at the culprit. Next comes the explanation, and a sigh of disbelief slips from his lips as he starts to wring out his shirt.

“How can I be mad when you’re pulling a face like that? Word of advice, next time, check to make sure the guy isn’t fireproof before you give him a cola bath. As nice and sugary as I smell, I’m gonna need another.” Giving up on his endeavor, Leo then holds up a finger, small flame springing to life at the tip as it would a lighter.

“See? No biggie for the human torch. But thanks for the attempt anyway, uh...”

[sergeantherchansen]

Visit Original Link

[forgests-blog]

sergeantherchansen:

Bastille - Things We Lost in the Fire

The future’s in our hands and we                    will never be the same again

[forgests-blog]

It’s a nervous habit, and not a good one. After all, it’s not like most kids do this kind of thing while lost in thought. Hell, most of them aren’t even capable of it, unless they’re near a stove. It’s unfortunate that Leo doesn’t need a stove to end up igniting on every other day of the week, sour feelings and sadness leading to him trying to keep his thoughts occupied.

Pieces fit together, small gathered bits on the bench next to him as his fingers work with a skill one can only be gifted with. He has no need for a miniature motor, nor does he have something to stick it in, but he likes to build. Likes to connect and twist and create a finely tuned machine.

It’s a good thing most people aren’t around, but there are a few, one of which bore witness to the sparks the younger seemed to give off without his knowledge, only actually noticing once the smell of burning cloth hit his nose. Nose wrinkles, and finally Leo looks down, only to see his sleeve currently on fire. Silence reigns for a second before he jumps from his seat, rapidly swatting it with a hand.

“Come on, man, this is like my only shirt left!”

He hardly seems concerned about either pain or heat.

firabo

[forgests-blog]

vulpicino:

[ forgests ]

     Jason isn’t sure what compels him to answer the door; he’s ignored it the past billion other times someone’s knocked this week, but something feels off. He drags himself out of his bedside chair and makes his way to answer the knock’s call, pressing his hand hard against his stomach to stave the pain off.

He doesn’t expect to see Leo, but somehow it doesn’t register as a surprise. He figures he’s too numb for any of that.

     ❝Oh.❞ He shifts his weight from one foot to the next. ❝Leo. Um. Sorry for worrying you; as you can see, I came back, so that letter was…pointless, I guess.❞

Leo isn’t sure what compels him to knock. It’s probably a lot of things. Worry, pain, terror, all things that don’t really suit the great Leo Valdez. He knows Jason is strong, a lot stronger than himself, but that doesn’t soothe his chest any less. He’s just not expecting him to answer, fine and perfectly well, the opposite of what he said he’d be.

Maybe not perfectly. The look on his face is no comfort, and while Leo no doubt looks the same, it twists the knife deeper despite the relief he feels.

The word ‘pointless’ strikes deeper than it should, but he manages to swallow it down.

“....Yeah, I can see that. With my two eyes. In my head.”

A painful wreck, worrying for nothing. Wasn’t he just a joke?

“Glad to see you in one piece, Oh Great prince of the sky. Guess it was just a waste of ink and paper, huh? Could’ve saved a few cents on postage to buy yourself something pretty.”

[forgests-blog]

ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ | ʙɪʟʟ

[forgests-blog]

providemon:

   Bill knew a mark when he saw a mark. And if ever this kid wasn’t showing the signs of pending desperation. In the case of the Pines family, the madness driven home by coercion and exhaustion were careful steps the dream demon had taken the time to implement. Only, no hand did he need to intervene in regards to the demigod at present listlessly slumped before him. The worst of the damage was already done. Or so then it seemed.

   “Nɪᴄᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡᴀʟᴋ, ᴇʜ ᴋɪᴅ?” This introduction to conversation Bill presented casually enough, from his place floating above the wearied youth letting off a dull golden glow when he spoke. “ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ʟᴏᴏᴋs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴ’ ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ғᴀsᴛ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ’s ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʟᴅ-ᴜᴘ? ᴀ ʙᴇᴀʀ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴛʀᴀᴘ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ!” Sincerity was by no means a natural crutch for the inter-dimensional being at hand. However, an actor he simulated to a T, one eye half-lidded as he scrutinized the subject of his attentions at present from beneath a line of long lashes.

   From his present angle, there appeared much more at stake here for the boy than just whether or not home would find him– but an uncertainty which hung in the balance at Bill’s discretion to dispel. Of course, nothing came free these days; a fact which would in time shine true.

He had either not expected to be bothered or had not even considered the notion of somebody pestering a child on his lonesome. Thoughts elsewhere, fingers moving on their own in the uncomfortable silence, the abrupt voice that intruded upon his small dirty haven was enough to make the half-built mechanical device slip from his hands and clatter to the alley floor.

The fact it comes from above him prompts Leo to twist his body, leaning back on both hands as he gapes for a few seconds. Sure, he’s seen a lot of...weird things. Snowy goddesses. Possessed automatons. More than a couple demons. You’d think a floating cyclops triangle would be no big deal, but it still received the patented curious eyeball.

“Woah. So, are you like the Charlie Chaplin of floating triangles? Well, without the wicked mustache and the whole silent thing. You been in any movies?” His mouth runs in the usual manner, but his tone at least seems to be...less enthusiastic. He tries hard to hide his feelings from other people, things like this are no exception.

Fingers scratch at dark curls, body shifting as he shrugs bony shoulders and lets them sag at the others words. “Been walking enough for one night, you know. Been there, done that, maybe should be doing that. Got...tired, I guess.” A moment of silence. “I can’t believe I’m talking to a triangle.  Congrats, Valdez, you’ve reached a brand level of completely nuts.” The last bit is muttered, but it gets it’s point across.

[forgests-blog]

ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ | ʙɪʟʟ

Leo Valdez hasn’t never really known what burns felt like, but if he’d have to describe the feeling, that would probably be it. 

A painful, burning agony that made him want to dig his fingers into his chest and rip out the source.

The isolation had been the start, but the letter was the catalyst. He had gotten a bad feeling from the start, receiving that piece of paper instead of a housecall, an uncharacteristic Jason Grace move. He should have never opened it up, read the words staining the paper that dug a knife into and ripped right through the mask he had spent so much time building. To think he had shut himself away in the middle of this, to think he had been so blind as to not figure it out earlier...

To think he had left behind the one person who never lost hope in him.

He had searched for hours. Legs aching, throat sore, hands balled into fists for the entire time. He had felt his fingers go slightly numb, nail marks dug into freshly calloused palms with no intention of leaving. He just wanted to find him, to see for himself that he was alright, that he was still around and he’d still be able to see him again. 

He doesn’t even realize how dry his throat is until he sits himself down, a little spot in an alley surrounded by thrown away scrap metal. A little dumpsite, but a spot of comfort for a son of Hephaestus, who runs his fingers over sharp edges and has to take deep breaths to avoid letting out anything unnecessary.

He’s so good at hiding how he feels, at playing the clown, the goofball, ever-present smile, but there’s only so much he can take. This is too much, even for him.

Too much for him to notice anything else joining him, one arm currently wrapped tightly around his knees.

[forgests-blog]

guess who’s back back again guess who’s back tell a friend

[forgests-blog]

thewrathwithin​

It was hot.

And that was an understatement. The heatwave was intense, with most people sweating buckets upon buckets without end in sight. Naturally, such is not the case for one Leo Valdez, son of Hephaestus, god of fire. He’d never really been bothered by heat anyway, the ones exuded by fire always more of a comforting warmth as opposed to anyone else. This lead to him strolling around with only a few beads of sweat sticking to his forehead, little more than a common occurrence.

The news of a beach reaches his ears, and despite warnings, Leo has made it his mission to pay it a visit. 

Clad in palm tree shorts and a t-shirt, Leo Valdez has a purpose.

That purpose is fun.

Which eventually leads to his next course of action. He’s so focused on scanning the surroundings for the good stuff that he nearly crushes somebody’s sand castle, managing to draw a foot away before it smashes a tower like Godzilla. Hastily crab stepping away to avoid doing so again, eyes lock onto the individual it belongs to who seems to be returning from material gathering, which leads to a big grin slipping over his face.

“On a completely serious note, that is a pretty rad sand castle. But doesn’t it look generic? Almost kind of sad. You know what this baby needs?

Some extreme beach episode maintenance. And I’m just the guy to dish it out.”

[forgests-blog]

vulpicino:

     ❝No.❞

Hand to shoulder.

“Jason, Jason, Jason.  My man....There comes a time in every demigod’s life when he must look at the opportunities presented to him and whisper.

Yes.”

[forgests-blog]

“So, day of independence, freedom, and an appreciation for a bad color scheme. You think you can make do with those things you call firework launchers? Clearly, you guys have never really had a party.”

We must make them better.

[forgests-blog]

hello, hello! unfortunately, there may be a delay in replies over the next couple days, possibly a week or more. i’ve just moved and gotten a job, and it’s taking me a while to adjust. i’ve used a semi-hiatus on those who’ve been here for a while, but there are two who weren’t eligible, so this is just a note for all my accounts! thank you very much for being patient with me, i really appreciate it.

[forgests-blog]

🔥

Father’s day.

A day Leo had never really celebrated after his mother’s death, one that before had always gone without an appearance from the man himself. She would always take the little creations he made in class begrudgingly and put them on a shelf while running her fingers through his curly hair hair, telling him how he would love to see them, how he’d be proud.

How one day he’d see them.

He’d forgotten about that little shelf of elementary creations, and he’d never bothered after. He’d never shown up. His mother’s wishes had never seen to come true, and he’d never seen that man walk in the door, Father’s Day gifts in hands, telling him thank you.

It was only until a while ago that he’d finally found out that, among everything else, he had seen it. Hephaestus, in his forge surrounded by gears and hammers, had been watching him for as long as he was alive. He’d had seen everything, from the science projects to the tears, and while Leo found it hard to fully accept the man as his loving dad, at least now he finally knew.

At least he finally knew he cared.

There’s no denying the slight bitterness of no words exchanged, but it became stark there was often no choice for Gods to interfere with their child’s lives. No visits, no encouraging words for a majority of their life.  While it would have been nice, he has to be grateful for the things Hephaestus has done for him, which is why he has bothered using one of three daily uses for sparking up for this.

It’s a crude fire, but hey, what can you do? Not many trees to start hacking down for quality lumber in the city, y’know. It’s hot, but the shadows of the alley offer a hint of shade as he holds one flaming hand to the pile of burnable trash heaped in the barrel. Leo watches it ignite, a crackling fire springing to life in the daylight.

Probably not the best place to make an offering, nor the best way. But like he said, supplies are limited here.

For a moment, he envisions the fire at Camp Half Blood, surrounded by everybody he knows while they laugh and chatter excitedly. What a joke, such an elaborate bonfire replaced by the kind hobos use to keep warm in the winter. He’d probably get laughed at. A sigh slips from his lips as he rolls his shoulders, grimy fingers finally reaching down with the rest of his body to pick up the pizza box from the ground.

Dominos. Ah, a family classic. Wasting money on a large he wasn’t even gonna eat was probably not the best idea for a teen on his own with limited funds, but a bag of skittles wouldn’t exactly be appropriate. With a dramatic raise of the hands, he throws the box into the flickering flames, the smell of burnt cardboard and bread soon wafting into the air mixing with everything else.

He watches, for a while.

Will it even be acknowledged or reached here? Can the Gods magically bypass whatever mumbo jumbo these weird-ass scientists have put in place to kidnap everybody like some high-tech criminals? Leo really has no flipping clue, but it’s the only thing he really can do. A lightly calloused palm rubs against his cheek, smearing a bit more grease, gaze flickering to the sides before finally settling on the fire. Fire, which he used to fear, and now he embraces as something too close.

“Happy Fathers Day, or something like that.”

“Man, do the Greeks even have Fathers Day? Absent Omnipotent God Father’s Day?”

Talking to oneself in an alley in front of a burning pizza. He probably looked like a lunatic to anybody witnessing this. Oh, well. Not like he hasn’t talked to stuff before. The wind is probably the cake-taker.

Leo watches a few more inches of brightly colored blue and white box disappear into the heart of the fire before finally shoving his hands as deep into his pockets as they can go. That’s done, over with. Now he can have a guilt-free conscience regarding it.

While his sneakers crunch against the alley pavement and he walks back into the welcoming sun, he really can’t help but wonder.

What exactly did he think of all those Fathers Day gifts, put on a pedestal just for him?

[forgests-blog]

                                                  ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ

                   ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ’ᴍ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴜᴘ?

                                     ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ?