#Spartan male character

[hephaestusent]

Spartan male character If you need art for your poolgame card game mobile game and Book Cover childrenbook do not hesitate click below to hire me 

[beastsovrevelation]

Why didn't these clowns have Shax simply call Aziraphale fat. -_-

[bones4thecats]

(This is my first Time requesting On tumblr so Sorry if I say something wrong.) can I request a Record Of Ragnarok Leonidas x reader..? Where The reader is The Younger Sister Of Apollo and Acts exactly like him. (Hope this is good, I usually say a lot but I don’t want to overwhelm anybody so I try to keep it a little.)

➸ The Sister of Apollo; Leonidas × S/O

Characters: Leonidas A/N: Artemis' design goes to diyuxii on instagram! No clue on Reader's dress and crown though! Comment if you do know! And don't worry, you're doing fine on requesting! And this was an amazing request, loved the idea and had a lot of fun writing it! And don't feel overwhelmed, I'm not exactly the judgy type. Mistakes are mistakes. Hope you like this though <3 ➥ Summary: When the younger sister of Apollo takes a walk on Earth and comes across a Spartan army, will a seed of love begin to grow between mortal and immortal?

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╚═════ Leonidas ══════════════════════════════╝

🚬 The one day you got free from your duties, you decided to go down to Earth. It always fascinated you, how these mortals lived without any worry of their safety despite being weak to everything surrounding them in some way

🚬 As you walked around the gorgeous forest, you felt the warmth of the sun that your brother, Apollo, ruled over. You had been spoiled rotten by the God for years, and it only got doubled with your older sister, Artemis

🚬 She may be busy with her own duties most of the time, but whenever she was free, she'd come by and mess around with you and her younger brother. Artemis was an amazing sister and Apollo was an amazing brother, but even you needed some space

🚬 Smiling as you heard a bird sing above you, your hand reached out. The small White-Wagtail chirped as you let it rub its feathery-head on your cheek lovingly. This was a normal thing that happened everywhere you went, as you were a Goddess of Nature

🚬 The people of Greece whom worshiped you had given you a specific name, that being Γυναίκα του Αιθέριου, or Mulier aetherei, which both translate to Woman of the Ethereal

🚬 So to sum it up, you were hailed for your beauty and connection to nature. Unique, I know.

🚬 It was when you let the bird fly off that you heard the yells of men from a couple miles away. Your eyebrows furrowed in concern before you shape-shifted into a Pallid Swift and flew off at the fastest speed your wings could take you

🚬 You reached the edge of the woods, finding a battle. You knew whom was fighting by how they looked; it was the Greek Spartans and the Persians Warriors. Eyes began to trail from the battle, and you caught the eyes of their leader, Xerxes

🚬 He gasped and yelled for his men to back away, but you already landed between the forces. Underneath your now-clawed foot, a Persian soldier squirmed in agony. He could feel your claws digging into his ribs and stomach, and anyone who has felt your rage would agree that your anger was something that was far from painless

"King Xerxes. Unless you wish to lose both your entire army and your life, then go home." You warned, malice in your tone as you sadistically dug your claws deeper into the male's chest.

🚬 His screams of pain caused the King to looked at him and back up at you in fear. King Xerxes then looked at his men and yelled for them to retreat, but not before yelling he would get his vengeance on Leonidas soon

🚬 You released the Persian man from your grip and told him to run before turning around to looked at your Greek people. They looked at you in shock. Your stories always told of beauty unmatched, but that was an understatement in their eyes

🚬 The long, translucent sleeves of your top lightly moved in the wind with your long dress bottom. Leonidas looked at you from a distance and felt his heart racing. You were a Goddess, you must have had much more important things to handle then saving their asses in battle!

🚬 The King of Spartans walked up to you, laying his weapon and shield securely nearby as he looked into your eyes. They sparkled golden as you smiled, asking if he and his men were okay from the battle and if they needed to find a good spot to camp for the night before returning home

"It would be of no problem, King Leonidas. I assure you of that." You said.

"You are sure of this?" He asked to confirm.

"But of course! Why would I lie to such an accomplished man such as yourself?"

🚬 Leonidas nodded and grabbed his stuff, yelling for his men to follow your form back to a secure location for the next couple days. They all nodded and followed you into the forest to where you were with the White-Wagtail just a couple hours prior

🚬 Landing back onto the soft grass, you told the men some things that they could use to make their nests to rest in. They thanked you and did as you directed. And as they made the perfect huts to sleep in that night, Leonidas watched as you pet a nearby wild horse. It happily accepted your pets and apple that you picked from a tree while traveling with the Spartans

🚬 The way you were so gentle, yet dangerous made Leonidas yearn. Yearn to understand you, to get to know you. But for now, he had to take some baby Spartan steps. After all, the last human to double-cross you faced the wrath of your brother and sister. And that was something Leonidas would rather not face while his people needed him

══✿══╡

🚬 When you finally decided to go back home, you were surprised to see both Apollo and Artemis standing outside. Their arms were crossed as they looked around impatiently, it was obvious they had been waiting for a while

"Where have you been, young lady?" Artemis asked.

"Just out." You said, feigning an innocent tone.

"Just out? Oh please, I've used that excuse so many times with mom that it's powerless against me." Apollo voiced.

🚬 You groaned and rolled your eyes. You knew that a mere vague-reason wasn't going to pass this time. And that just annoyed you. If they knew you were with a human, they'd have a cow!

"I- I came across some humans and spoke to them. I also helped them find somewhere to stay for the next few days while preparing for another battle. That cannot be a crime!" You said.

"Divine intervention?! Do you know how angry Zeus could get from that happening without his notification?" Artemis questioned, her voice slightly raising as you looked away in shame.

🚬 You had forgotten just how angry your lead God could get if he wasn't notified about some things. But, he was your father, so he wouldn't get that mad with you... right?

🚬 Artemis sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose before running her hand through her hair. She looked at you with her normal, stoic expression and just said she was going to get some shut-eye in her room

🚬 Apollo looked back at you and reached for your head. He pulled out a leaf that laid there. But, on that leaf was a strand of hair, black-turning-grey, to be specific

"Just don't let him hurt you, okay, little sister?"

"Okay, big brother." You said.

[ageless-aislynn]

Title: “15 Minutes” (9/?) Author:  @ageless-aislynn​ Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: You're in peril but don't be afraid, help is near. Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating:  T (PG13) Length: 2,568 (this chapter, 22,261 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Trigger warning: claustrophobia Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N: ��Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. Halo season 2 has finally arrived! However, this fic continues to zip along in the AU Party Warthog, so, while we began with season 1 way back when (and you’ll see a few more things from s1 along the way 😉), we’ll not be venturing into s2 territory at all. Unless s2 is going to take some verrrrry interesting twists, lol! Chapter 10 is in progress by hand but I hope to have it ready soon. 🤞😣🤞 The tags have been updated for hurt/comfort starting with this chapter. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger​ @mysardencut​ @laurenstacy610​ @sporadicbelievernightmare​ @ultrablackwidower​ @bxmxtx​ @jellotherelol

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Trigger warning again: claustrophobia If you need to avoid the actual scene, skip the entire first section but there will be a lot of mentions of it again through the rest of the chapter, just so you're aware. I don't want to cause any distress to anyone so if you'd like a recap of what happens in this chapter, feel free to contact me here and I'm happy to oblige so you can stay in-the-know without reading something that could trigger a bad reaction. Stay safe, my friends! 🤗

You tried to gasp in a breath but there was a weight pinning you down. Smoke burned your lungs and your eyes. Your left arm couldn't move but you were able to bring your right hand up to wipe your face, trying to clear your vision. The only light in the rubble came from a shower of sparks a few feet away, emitting from a panel half-ripped from the wall. There was very little to orientate yourself by.

"Hello?" you tried to call but you couldn't take a deep enough breath to yell. The muffled ring in your ears told you that at least one of your eardrums had ruptured.

Evaluate, you thought in the tone you used when triaging patients, shoving down a wave of panic. You tried to squeeze out from under whatever was pressed across your back. No good, too much weight.

There wasn't a tremendous amount of pain but you worried at the numbness from your waist down, behind whatever was restraining you.

Evaluate.

You tested moving your legs, your feet, your toes. It felt strange but yes, you had movement.

Spinal cord potentially compromised but not severed, you diagnosed as clinically as possible.

Something overhead gave an alarming groan.

Alert help. Report your position.

"Hello? I'm by the crane operator booth. Can anyone hear me?"

You couldn't get the volume you wanted and you automatically tried to inhale deeper. You couldn't and had to fight another wave of panic. The animal part of your brain wanted to claw the twisted metal of the deck, trying to squirm free, but when you twitched, something above you groaned again.

You had no way to know how perilous the collapsed structure was. A wrong move could bring it all down.

A fresh wave of smoke irritated your nose and you coughed weakly. From far away, you heard the muffled sound of a woman saying your rank and last name.

"Here," you choked out. "I'm here."

A blue light shimmered a few feet away, the lower half of a blue-tinted woman, her upper body phased through the rubble. Then she shrank until she fit the space, adjusting like a camera lens. A hologram.

She repeated your rank and last name. "We have your location," she said, your damaged hearing distorting her voice. "Sit tight, a rescue crew is on their way."

You tried to respond but the smoke triggered more coughing, so you nodded.

"I'll stay with you for as long as the holo-emiter holds," she said, gesturing towards the ruined wall panel that continued to spark.

"Thank you," you managed to say. "Casualties?"

She glanced up and away as if receiving new information. "Reports coming in of injuries but no fatalities. Your alert gave enough time for almost everyone to get clear."

"Good." You made yourself slow your breathing down, taking shallow breaths since you couldn't take deeper ones. For a moment, your head swam and it felt like the floor tipped. Your fingers scratched for a hold on the crumpled metal.

The sound of your rank and name cut through the terror. "You're all right," the woman assured you. "You're not falling. Try to stay still. Silver Team will be back on site in a few more minutes. John will be here soon."

It gave you something to focus on other than bring trapped. The way she knew that the mention of John would comfort you, that she didn't call him Master Chief like most people did, even the mannerism of how she'd looked away, like someone was speaking in her ear...

"Your name wouldn't be Ms. Classified, would it?" you asked haltingly and tried to smile.

"That's... not inaccurate," she said and maybe it was your blurry vision but you could've sworn she gave you a fond smile, like she knew you. "I'm not supposed to tell my name."

You tried to say it was all right but couldn't draw enough breath.

"Ah, screw it," she said. "What are they going to do, fire me? My name is Cortana."

You must've blacked out because the next thing you knew, she was kneeling next to you, her small holographic hand resting atop your outstretched arm as she repeated your rank and name.

If you could get a breath, you needed a good, solid breath. Your chest instinctively fought to expand but couldn't beneath the pressure bearing down on your back. Something above you slid and the pressure abruptly worsened. You clawed, you fought, you struggled to breathe. To live.

"John, get here now! The support beam is failing!"

"Not his fault," you tried to say. "Tell him. Not his--"

Metal screamed and everything went dark.

You woke, grasping at nothing. You still couldn't get a deep breath but this time you were on your back and it felt like someone had laced a corset brutally tight around you.

"Easy there. You're all right," said a deep voice.

Your vision swam and then Spartan Vannak-134 appeared out from the dim lighting. You were still clawing at the air, trying to sit up, and he caught your hand a little awkwardly in his much larger ones.

"Where?" you gasped.

"You're back on Reach, in medical."

Once he said it, details emerged like a black and white picture filling in with color: the beeps of the monitors, the distinctive antiseptic smell. Your hearing was still deadened but not as much as before, meaning they had already begun healing therapies on your eardrums.

Anything you might've wanted to say dissolved like sugar on your tongue before the words could be spoken. Your head seemed too full. I'm drugged, you thought and that was the last thing you knew for a while.

Voices drew you from the murky depths and you tried to open your eyes but couldn't.

"Hold her hand," Vannak said in a quiet rumble. "She likes that."

A new hand gently folded around yours and your fingers instinctively gripped hold.

You woke, feeling the phantom press of metal bearing down on you, forcing the air from your lungs. You tried to sit up, your limbs flailed, uncoordinated and leaden. A second hand closed around yours and a feminine voice began to softly sing, a lullaby in a language you didn't recognize.

The room was blurry but you caught a glimpse of red hair -- Spartan Riz-028. You went under once more, dreaming of music that soothed your fears.

Later, there was a new voice to lure you up from the sticky darkness.

"Poor little thing. She looks so small."

"She'll heal. Hold her hand, it helps."

At some point, you jolted awake to find your hand cradled carefully within Kai's.

"Hey," she said, sitting up straighter in the chair next to the bed. "You need anything?"

Your head felt less stuffed with cotton than before but now that cotton seemed to have been transferred to your mouth. "Water?" you croaked.

She jumped up and returned shortly, carrying a cup with a straw in it. You intended to sit up but a searing pain in your ribs immediately convinced you that was a bad idea and you let her help you by holding the straw to your lips.

"Slowly," she advised.

Once you'd taken a couple of sips, you mumbled your thanks then promptly passed out.

You thought you'd closed your eyes for a brief moment but when they fluttered open, it wasn't Kai sitting in the chair, holding your hand.

As soon as John knew you were awake, he was on his feet, carefully brushing the fingertips of his free hand along the curve of your cheek.

You mouthed his name.

"Rest," he said. "I'm here. You're safe."

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you truly felt as if you were. Your mind let go.

"And how's our favorite mech, the Hero of the Pit?"

"That's not a very heroic name," you confessed, smiling as Maria and then Jamie entered medical.

You were sitting on the side of the bed in generic gray scrubs, waiting for Dr. Savannah to give you final instructions before your release. It had been two days since the explosion. Your hearing had, thankfully, returned to normal. The rest of you... not so much but you were on the mend.

They both gave you careful hugs.

"You look a lot less like you were squashed by a building," Jamie said sincerely and Maria punched his arm. "Hey, that was a compliment!"

"Don't make me laugh," you begged, holding your left side. They'd fused your broken ribs back together but the tissue damage would take longer to resolve. Still, aches, pains, limited motion and all, you knew you were very lucky.

"I hope they're giving you a nice vacation, at least," Maria went on.

"I should be ready for light duty in a week."

"Technically, I said we'd evaluate you for light duty in a week," Dr. Savannah corrected as she entered. "Afraid your friends will have to catch up with you later."

They said their goodbyes and, as they left, you started to stand. The doctor quickly said, "No, you don't. I don't want you walking on that leg."

"It's not broken," you argued.

"Not anymore," she countered. "Stay put. I got you a ride."

"I don't need to be wheeled back to the barracks." You tried to keep your tone confident but the truth was even that little bit of exertion had left you feeling twinges all along your left leg. Your left shoulder throbbed with each heartbeat.

"Well, good thing you're wrong on both counts," she said, winking. "And here he is now."

John came through the door, dressed in his undersuit as if either about to head to the Brokkr stations to have his Mjolnir mounted up or returning from having it removed. You didn't even realize you'd moved to rise again until Dr. Savannah put a practiced hand on your good shoulder to keep you down.

"I'll be sending PT to you twice a day, starting tomorrow," she said. "They'll help you to get your strength and mobility back. Around that, rest. Catch up on your reading, watch some thoroughly trashy movies, and keep your feet up. Not too far up, though. Nothing too strenuous. Make him do all of the work."

That got you to look at her and she waggled her eyebrows.

John cleared his throat slightly, a faint but definite flush creeping up from his collar. "Yes, ma'am."

"All right, see you back in a few days, sooner if anything else develops. You know what to watch for."

It wasn't until she stepped back and John approached that it clicked.

"You're going to carry me?"

"Yes, ma'am," he repeated in a murmur that shivered straight down your spine.

Since your left side had taken the brunt of the damage, he put your right to his chest and cautiously picked you up in a bridal carry. Despite the care, being moved set a thousand things to hurting and your breath hitched as he straightened.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you said, your tone tighter than you would've liked. You thought, I hope nobody sees me being toted around like this, but, as soon as you left medical, you realized that no one was actually looking at you.

I think if Master Chief offered to drop me and pick up any marine, ODST or officer in this hall, they'd be hopping into his arms before I even hit the floor!

At the first turn he made, you realized the rest of it. "This isn't the way to the barracks."

"Nope," he said and you knew him well enough now to see the hint of a smile in his eyes.

You didn't have to wait for further clues, there was only one place, then, that he could be taking you. "How many strings did you have to pull for this?"

"Not as many as you might think," he demurred. "Your actions saved lives."

And they could've blamed you for failing to make sure a bomb hadn't been sent to the Pit in the first place. The curly tailed Warthog had been your responsibility, after all. You'd been curtly informed of all that when they'd debriefed you the first day you'd had your eyes open for more than 15 minutes.

You doubted they'd told that to John, though.

When you reached his room, he maneuvered so to get his thumb on the panel without jostling you too much. The lights came on as he took you through the doorway and then he paused.

"Kai," he rumbled, shaking his head. "She said studies show people heal better with color. I should've known she'd overdo it. Say the word and I'll have her in here clearing this out."

"It's your room," you said, "but personally, I love it."

The duvet on the bed and the pillows on the couch were now a rainbow of jewel tones. A tapestry with a field of sunflowers dominated the wall at the foot of the bed and you could've sworn there was a dusting of diamond glitter shimmering on every wall, sending tiny holographic rainbows through the air in all directions. But the main thing that caught your attention was overhead.

"She put up stars," you said, brightening.

"Ah, that one was actually me," he confessed. "You seemed to really like those in her room so I thought..."

You stretched up in his arms, inhaling a little sharply at the stab of pain in your left side, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love them, John. Thank you."

A short time later, you found yourself lying on the bed in the darkened room, looking up at those stars. John had profusely apologized for not being able to stay after getting you settled in. He'd turned down the bed so you wouldn't have to, had put your padd close at hand on the nightstand to the right along with a bottle of water and a couple of emergency ration packs in case you got hungry before someone bought you a meal. He'd even procured you a set of unthinkably soft civvies to change into, exactly your size and in your favorite color.

You couldn't imagine that a Spartan had ever taken care of a sick or wounded person before, other than in a battlefield triage situation, so he'd probably found a checklist from somewhere to guide him. His earnestness to make sure he'd done everything right sent warmth flooding through you.

Before he left, he'd paused to kiss the top of your head.

"You know," you said, lifting your chin, "my lips aren't broken."

He hesitated. "The last time I did that, an entire base fell on you."

"Only the warehouse part," you said dismissively, "and there was absolutely no correlation, I promise."

He tried to smile at that but his eyes still showed concern.

"I promise," you repeated more seriously and he exhaled as if about to make a tremendous leap. His kiss was so soft and gentle, it was barely more than a whisper against your mouth.

Once he had left, you'd considered taking Dr. Savannah's advice and watching a holo, reading something on your padd, or doing any number of things to pass the time but ultimately, you'd wanted to appreciate his handiwork.

After all, it wasn't just anybody who could say a Spartan had literally hung the stars for them.

[bardic-tales]

The Leviathan method: Step 11: Describe Your Protagonist(s)

NOTE: This profile refers to the Sephiroth in Blood & Stardust, as well as Fantasy Worlds Collide. It is a fanon interpretation shaped by 27 years (soon to be 28) of headcanons and character analysis across various Final Fantasy VII media. It incorporates canon-compliant material but ultimately diverging due to the inclusion of Bianca and other original elements.

Sephiroth, the once-legendary SOLDIER, is a towering figure of power. His long silver hair and piercing green eyes are a reflection of his enigmatic, otherworldly nature. Raised as the "perfect SOLDIER," Sephiroth is a man haunted by the truth of his origins, torn between his human upbringing and the truth of his connection to Jenova, an ancient alien entity. As his mind begins to unravel, the internal battle between his desire for control and the overwhelming influence of Jenova's influence threatens to consume him. His complex relationship with Bianca acts as both a beacon of hope, as her celestial aura keeps Jenvoa’s Influence at bay until it doesn’t. Sephiroth struggles with his feelings for Bianca, finding solace in their connection. Beneath his stoic and cold exterior, Sephiroth harbors deep emotional turmoil and a yearning for understanding.

Quick Reference List

Tech Knowledge: Advanced Systems, Military Technology

Economic Class: Upper Class, Privileged

Skills: Materia Mastery, Swordsmanship, Regeneration

Hobbies: Sparring, Reflection, Reading, Stargazing

Classifications: Enhanced Human, Male

Vital Stats: 6'5", 290 lbs, Stressed, 25 Years Old

Sephiroth: Detailed Character Breakdown

Technology / Tech Knowledge Sephiroth is adept at using advanced Shinra technology, including communication devices, military-grade weaponry, and Materia systems. While not a tinkerer or inventor, he has an intuitive understanding of the mechanisms and systems that keep Shinra’s facilities operational. He can operate futuristic vehicles like helicopters and advanced transport systems, a necessity given his SOLDIER First Class status. Despite his skills, he is not interested in technology for its own sake but sees it as a tool to enhance his missions and objectives. Tech Knowledge: Advanced Systems, Military Technology

Economic / Social Class Sephiroth occupies the pinnacle of Shinra's hierarchy, enjoying unparalleled privileges and access to resources. As a war hero and symbol of the company’s strength, he lives in relative luxury compared to most of the population: even other SOLDIERs. However, his Spartan / traumatic upbringing leaves him uninterested in material wealth, and he spends little on personal comforts, focusing instead on training, spending downtown with Genesis and Angeal, and fulfilling his duties. His public image is one of prestige, though he personally struggles to find satisfaction in the recognition. Economic Class: SOLDIER, Upper Class, Privileged

Magic Abilities or Skills Sephiroth’s mastery of Materia is unparalleled, with a fully mastered setup that includes Fire, Ice, Lightning, Earth, Revive, Restore, Cure, and Esuna. His skill with the Masamune is legendary, allowing him to defeat enemies with precision and efficiency. He also has the innate ability to regenerate quickly due to his Jenova cells, which grants him an edge in combat. His levitation is a natural extension of his physical and metaphysical prowess, allowing him to navigate the battlefield with grace and superiority. He rarely levitates, at this point in his history. Skills: Magic Combat, Materia Mastery, Swordsmanship, Regeneration

Culture and Hobbies Sephiroth’s life is largely consumed by his role as a SOLDIER, leaving little room for traditional hobbies. However, he finds solace in sparring with those he respects, such as Angeal and Genesis, and occasionally retreats to isolated spaces to reflect on his existence. While he doesn’t actively seek leisure, he appreciates moments of quiet introspection and finds peace in the rhythms of battle, where his mind and body operate in perfect sync. Hobbies: Sparring, Reflection, Reading, and Stargazing

Classification Sephiroth is a genetically enhanced human, the product of Shinra’s Project S. His defining traits include his silver hair, glowing green Mako-infused eyes with feline-like pupils, and a superhuman physique. He is male, 25 years old in Blood & Stardust, and has a unique blend of human and extraterrestrial genetics due to the infusion of Jenova cells during gestation. Classification: Enhanced Human, Male

Vital Statistics

Height: 6’5” (196 cm)

Weight: 290 lbs (132 kg), though he is visibly losing weight due to weeks without eating or sleeping.

Age: 25

Health: Physically powerful, with rapid regeneration, but currently suffering from stress, hunger, and exhaustion.

Vital Stats: 6’5”, 290 lbs, 25 years old, Stressed

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @whatwedointhecraft @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap

@inkandimpressions

[protagaster]

wait

in warrior Penelope, are the other characters from the Iliad swapped as well (eg Helen and Menelaus, Agamemnon and Clytemnestra)

because if so, we have a trio of badass Spartan princesses fighting in Troy and Menelaus sitting in Troy waiting for Helen to show up and rescue him while covered in the blood of the Trojans and whoever kidnapped him in this version (maybe Cassandra?)

YES! BAD-ASS QUEEN TRIO, LET'S GO!!! Most of our favorite Greek heroes (Menelaus, Agamemnon, Diomedes, and Odysseus, just to name a few) are swapped with characters like Helen, Clytemnestra, Aegiale, and Penelope! However, there are some male characters who keep their original roles in the story (like Patroclus and Achilles, to name a couple).

In @somereaderinblue and mine's version of events, Menelaus is not necessarily kidnapped so much as he is captured (click here if you would like the full story/background on how that happens). However, his story (and the stories of the Greek heroes, both male and female) doesn't simply end there ~ We have so many ideas about how we want to go about the au, not to mention all the themes and characterizations we want to explore (things like female rage, societal norms, having one's eyes open to the way the world works and its flaws/advantages, the idea of "returning to your past life", etc.). If you guys want a more in-depth analysis, be sure to let me know!

[botmilf]

so I finally started watching the Halo tv series and I have some thoughts

Not Transformers related, but FUCKIN HELL I need to vent this SOMEWHERE because none of my friends have watched it. Ok.

The acting is ok, but no one's winning any awards, that's for sure lol.

The world building does *not* feel grounded in the Halo universe tbh. It feels more like a Star Wars setting, what with all the whacky haircuts and outfits, which I found pretty jarring because part of what grounded the Halo games was that the humans--even the ones that lived on planets other than Earth--were more utilitarian-centered in terms of fashion.

They want me to root for Kwan so badly, but they've given me no solid reason to so far, and I'm halfway through Season 1. I get that the writers are trying to make her seem like an edgy teenager, but tbh she just comes across as shitty, rude, and entitled most of the time? Which is, of course, no fault of the actress's whatsoever. This is purely the fault of the writers--Kwan's actress is just doing her best with the lackluster material she's been given, and our girl deserves nothing short of admiration for that lol.

Another thing about Kwan's story: it feels mind-numbingly boring and predictable when it's placed beside the Master Chief's arc--which is the one we're all HERE FOR IN THE FIRST PLACE. We're not here to watch an edgy teenage girl with a bad haircut (as a former professional hairstylist I see what they were going for, but man, did they NOT hit it lol) have her coming of age Katness Everdeen moment, and yeah I kinda feel like one of those sweaty asshole film critics just saying that...ugh...but it's the hard truth I guess.

One last thing concerning Kwan: I feel like a core issue that is also at play here is the fact that the writers--who are both men--clearly do not know how to write women outside the perimeters of "edgelord bitchy" "soulless bitchy" and "nerdy bitchy." Makee is the only character showing some potential for depth beyond that, but I'm not ready to give 'em that yet. It's unfortunately a prevalent thing in film/games when it comes to male writers writing women.

The FINAL thing that I want to say is that the camera work for this show is BORING as FUCK. The Sangheili fights fell short, not because of the CGI, or the writing or the acting, but purely because of the stiff camera work. A good camera shake when a Sangheili hits something and some motion-tracking during the battles would've gone a long way here because it helps you feel like you're right in it. Most of the shots stay zoomed out and still, which also ends up making the CG of the Spartans/Sangheili look worse.

Idk..that's my thoughts on the Halo show lol

[cowbilover]

lo and queer masc/man rep

or therefore the complete lack there of. which is incredibly insulting considering how common and prominent it was in original myth (although not always perfect but what greek myth is regardless of straight or gay). also i will be using queer in place of LGBT+ as an umbrella term so if you're not comfortable with that then sorry.

now rachel has made attempts at including queer rep through hestia and athena as lesbians and morpheus (and maybe chiron? idk) as trans women. which could be a whole separate post on its own with the problems that arise with them, but seeing as i am not a lesbian or trans woman, i will not be speaking on them in this post nor to the same degree if i do ever mention them.

what i am is a queer man, both bisexual and trans. i am also a big enjoyer of greek myth. i am not a big enjoyer of lore olympus nor of rachel's complete lack of representation when it comes to men like myself despite it being again very prominent within the original myths. now seeing how badly she has handled other forms of representation for other groups, i am partially glad she hasn't tried. but while i am a little happy, i am more so overall upset and annoyed at this. it comes off as nothing more than simple erasure.

the closest we've seen of rep for queer men/mascs is aged up storge who is more feminine then other men in the story, but this has not been explicitly confirmed therefore i will not be including this. besides men can be both feminine and still cishet. finally storge is a minor background character with little importance, so even if rachel did decide to make him canon queer we likely would not see much of that.

his brother eros is another annoying case as he is unarguably coded as a gay best friend stereotype. but without being gay. he is fashionable, witty, intelligent, dramatic, and always serves as a shoulder for his straight friend to cry on. but again he is not even fucking gay. he is married to a woman with a child. while i would like to see better representation then the gbf stereotype it is still insulting that rachel while coding eros to act like that couldn't even do the bare minimum of making him bisexual.

now it has been pointed out to me that names of male lovers to gods have been used and slapped on female nymphs. krokos (one of persephone's dead nympth friends) was a male spartan lover of hermes, and ampleus (the name pysche took as a nymph) was a lover of dionysus. now i am not upset that rachel didn't include the original stories since the story is already messy enough. i am upset that she took the names of two queer men from myth and slapped them on two woman. one of which ends up marrying a man, and the other dying. a quick google search could show that these names belonged to male lovers of gods, and so to me it comes off as at best lazy and at worst erasure.

i won't be discussing much of dionysus since he was only recently introudced. nor of apollo since the erasure of his queer identity is only one of many problems that occur with his character and how rachel wrote it, which could constitution a completely separate post.

i will be discussing hermes though. as both a character that we have seen a lot of, and as one that has not been completely villainized by the plot. he had an incredibly early appearance in the webtoon and had a handful of myths where he had male lovers or expressed homosexual love. but not a single mention or even passing comment has ever been made about this. it would be incredibly easy for rachel to just throw in one allusion to any of his male lovers (besides krokos who has been turned into a nymph for some reason) yet this never happens.

zeus is another character we have seen a lot of, especially in regards to his many affairs. all of which have canonically been with women. despite the many affairs he carried out with men. one of the most famous being ganymede and the foundation for the myth behind aquarius and the cup bearer. again it would not be so incredibly difficult for rachel to add any allusion to his male lovers. yet again though, nothing. (i will come back to this post after some fast passes become public and i can discuss his treatment as a pregnant man)

poseidon also had a couple queer lovers but besides the reference to the fact that he has a polygam "pod" we haven't actually seen any of his partners besides his wife.

the way rachel draws men with all perfect six pack bodies is also something that annoys me, and i'll be discussing it briefly here. people always comment on the lack of body diversity for the women in the comic but for the men it is much more severe. hermes, thanatos and eros who were all shown to be more skinny and not completely jacked in the beginning of the story are now all ripped with washboard abs. the men are all built like brick walls and it is just upsetting to see as a trans man who does not fit into that category. it sends the message that to be attractive a man must be perfectly fit. not scrawny or skinny or god forbid even fat.

also again as i said in the beginning many of the myths for queer men were just as fucked and problematic. it’s greek mythology it’s inevitable. but i’m more upset over the fact that if rachel can modernize and (attempt to) make hetero myths less gross, then where is that effort for homo myths

overall despite the overwhelming amount of queer man/masc rep that exists within the source material, rachel utilizes none of it. there has not been mention or allusion to a single queer god, forget any trans god. to me it comes off as purposefully ignorant and as erasure of queer men/mascs. which is fucking annoying considering how many of us see ourselves for once fucking represented in these myths. she has plenty of opportunity to include rep for people like myself but continuously chooses not to, instead adding another hetero-centric plot line for no reason. it is tiring and annoying to see so many gods that were queer in their myths not be represented as such. i will not make assumptions about why rachel chooses not to include this kind of rep, i will simply say to me it comes off as blatant erasure.

i could go on, and probably will come back to this post but for now i have said what i have wanted to say.

[love-beyond-space-war]

hey if you feel up to it could you do one about Jega? one where there's no mention of his death, he acts increasingly sweeter towards the reader, isn't too violent, and is protective? if not thats completely fine!

I assume this was meant to be a short story but I decided to try and experiment with those kinds of fics that's like a hybrid of HCs and a short story so I can experiment with a plot for this :0 Sorry if this is what you wanted and it took too long, still trying to get back into the swing of my side blog.

I kept the pairing general, I hope it all came out okay!

Jega 'Rdomnai being protective/caring of Reader

(HCs and Story Segments - Halo Infinite AU)

Synopsis/Summary: HCs and mini interactions/story pieces of Jega 'Rdomnai showing softer behavior towards reader and ways if could work.

Content Warning: Gender-Neutral Reader/Male Character pairing, Romantic/Platonic pairing, OOC Jega 'Rdomnai at times (Normally a sadistic character), Canon typical violence/death, Sangheili/Sangheili pairing mentioned, Human/Sangheili pairing mentioned, Dark themes mentioned, Mature language.

Jega is a Sangheili that joined the Banished due to his cybernetics.

He is also much more bloodthirsty than most Sangheili, even befriending Escharum despite the animosity between their species.

He is part of The Hands of Atriox and is a Spartan Killer.

Many fear him and his sadistic tendencies during his hunts.

He's killed many humans and is merciless to enemies.

Which is why the concept of him being softer towards anyone is foreign.

No one really expects Jega to have any sort of soft side.

He's a cold killer... for the most part.

In terms of how reader could meet them, here's some ways I think you could be compatible.

You'd have to be part of the Banished, be you taken in as a prisoner before joining or joining willingly.

Jega's affections towards you would be quicker if you were Sangheili as well, both betrayed and abandoned by your kind.

When you first met Jega it was a relatively cold greeting. Both of you haven't had the best interactions with your own kind. However, The Banished promised to give you a fresh start to make your own life.

Most of the time you two ignored each other. He was often off hunting the UNSC while you had your own duties. Yet you hoped the relatively cold interactions wouldn't last long.

After all, part of you felt intrigue towards the Sangheili, despite his Cybernetics.

Maybe he even felt similar to you and just did not show if as of yet, instead opting to walk by you with a passive glance.

If you're a human, another option I enjoy the thought of, Jega would take longer.

Even though you're part of The Banished for your own reasons, he still sees you as one of the many weak humans in this world.

However, part of him may feel particularly fond of you despite the opinions he expresses.

Humans are indeed part of the Banished. Be it soldiers no longer willing to be loyal to the UNSC or humans who were willing to make business, everyone had their reasons. Reasons they did not have to share if they did not wish to.

All that really mattered was you were Banished now and you worked with the group loyally.

When it came to Jega you tended to stay away most of the time. He's known for killing humans and you'd rather not piss him off. Any sort of proximity to Jega was usually met with you shuffling away and nodding at him to pass by from a distance.

Despite this the Sangheili often passed by you during work. You thought it was because he didn't trust you. Yet it was so often it did make you wonder if he had other intentions.

After all, if he hated you, why would he come by so often?

Either way, Jega would be someone who's slow to show anything other than stoic emotions and sadistic violence.

Unlike Chak 'Lok, Jega isn't as polite as The Tower's torturer.

He thrives off the suffering of others, so when it comes to you he isn't used to being so... close?

His companionship towards you is definitely slow to occur.

It takes some interaction between you two, maybe even some favors, in order to grow close.

He finds it understandable that he'd want to be close with a Sangheili, but a human puzzles him.

Why does he want to be close to the very prey he kills?

For some reason... when you aid him as a member of The Banished regardless on your species, he finds companionship towards you.

It's like how he felt with his fellow brothers before he was tossed out of his entire society.

He finds comfort in you despite the bloodshed he reigns in.

Just maybe... you're someone he should keep an eye on?

Jega wasn't sure why he felt such a... fondness towards you. It wasn't quite like how he felt towards Escharum. With the Jiralhanae he felt something more like a brotherhood relationship.

When it came to you he felt more... calm? He felt something that he hasn't felt towards anyone in what felt like forever. It was only when he met you that he felt such a way.

Jega decides to make a silent promise to himself to check in with you more often. Maybe if he becomes a closer member with you he'll find why you make him this way.

He just hopes Escharum will allow him to explore such a curiosity.

Once Jega catches wind of his own affections to towards you he would definitely be one to scope out why.

He doesn't want it conflicting with his duty so he spends free time hunting you down to look into this interest of his.

As expected, someone of his infamy has trouble connecting with you.

Part of you expresses that you're impressed, however if you're human you certainly express more discomfort.

He tries his best to listen to conversation that you bring up, finding himself listening closer than he thought when you bring up pieces of your backstory.

He appears hesitant to speak about his own but eventually he'll share pieces of how he got here.

Honestly through conversations, favors, and time... you could probably unlock some sort of softness in Jega when you're alone?

Jega isn't going to be the type who is overly affectionate or anything like that, most Sangheili just aren't.

He shows his care for you in subtle ways.

You notice his tone is less gruff and he eases it to be softer around you.

To you it appears he cares, but it's subtle enough others don't really notice.

Or if they do, Jega threatens them to keep quiet.

He's still violent, it isn't going to change, but never towards you.

In fact he's more protective and loyal towards you, similar to Escharum but softer.

His protective tendencies over you are done out of respect.

He knows you can fight if you're a Sangheili, yet will stick beside you just to make sure you do come out fine.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here, Spartan Killer." You comment when the infamous Sangheili materializes out of his camo beside you.

"I was called here." Jega answers simply, following you as you continue your patrol.

"Really? Last I knew someone of your skill is never called for patrols." You say back, a teasing bite in your tone.

"... seen anything?" Jega answers simply.

"No, if I needed back up I'd call for it." You slowly turn to him. "However... I don't mind the company, since you're so free."

Jega says nothing else and cloaks beside you in silence until he's called to slaughter another demon.

When it comes to if you're a human he appears to stick around more.

Fear is not in Jega's vocabulary, he just feels if your base is attacked you'll need a strong warrior to help.

You're both Banished partners after all, regardless of species.

"I want you to hide." Jega's order is demanding, a warning.

"Aren't I supposed to fight, Jega? For the sake of The Banished?" You ask, hiding the fear in your gut.

"And get yourself killed? Stay out of this. That's an order." Jega growls, shoving you out of sight.

Jega doesn't care if you're an ex-spartan, far as he knows he's going to treat you like a weak human. You've managed to make an impression on him and he isn't going to lose you to something stupid. He doesn't care if others look at him in disgust or amusement...

If you're alive and under his protection, he can rest easy.

He makes a mental note to see Escharum about moving you to somewhere more secure.

The most I can see Jega being when it comes to affectionate is him rewarding you with his protection and companionship.

He could see you as simply another Banished ally he's close with, or something much more.

He's already been cast out from his species by using forbidden cybernetics, he's already befriended Jiralhanae, at this point he does what he likes.

If he wants to dedicate himself to protecting you and caring for you, he will.

Jega cares and maybe even feels love towards you in his own way.

He may not be very affectionate or "loving" in the "traditional" sense.

But there is certainly a sense of care there when it comes to you.

"I used to be intimidated by you." You say softly towards the taller Sangheili.

"You're not now?" Jega scoffs.

"Don't get me wrong, you're infamous and terrifying at times. But between me and you... I feel safe." You go on with a slight laugh. Jega listens softly, eyes flicking to you.

"What are you implying?"

"I'm saying... I care about you, from one Banished to another." You finish, leaning against a wall. Jega soaks in your words before nodding softly, checking to see if you're still in private.

"... I can say the same." Jega admits. "You provide a sense of comfort no one else can. For that, I thank you."

You shine him a small smile.

"That's a first. I hope we can keep such a thing going?" You ask in a hopeful tone.

"Don't let it get to your head..." The Sangheili grunts before softening his tone. "... but I think the same."

[aizawife]

Caught in Your Web

Requested: Getting together with Mirko.

Summary: Everyone knew Redback, barely anyone saw Kenji — except for Mirko, who saw the spider, its web, and its prey.

Word Count: 4622

Prompt Notes: Mirko x Spider-Man OC! Specific to the OC, written with a male reader in mind.

Author Notes: Good Lord, it has been a while! Sorry for taking so long with new content — I’ve had a lot on my plate the past few years with graduating uni (yay!) and moving on to med school. Even through it all, I never forgot about my love for both anime and writing, so here we are! Now, about this request…y’all. Huge shoutout to this requester !! This was not supposed to end up as long as it is (seriously, if you think you know how long this is, you really don't), but after talking to them about their OC and learning the backstory, I fell in love with them and ended up pouring so much into this. This is like a chapter worth of content, but I’m happy and so grateful I got to help deepen this character. I hope you all enjoy it (and share your OCs so I can write for them >.<); I'll be uploading some other stuff I wrote from before I went MIA soon, so look out for it! Welcome back <3

••●───── 🕸️⋅🕷⋅🕸️ ─────●••

“Wow, fourth one this week, huh?”

“Nah, that’s his sixth; keep up, man!”

It was a typical Thursday — well, as typical as it could be for anyone living in the Age of Heroes. As per usual, most people’s workday lunch break had now become a free all-inclusive ticket to a Spartan brawl between some Hero and any of the handful of villains propagated by the emergence of quirks. Today, the competitors in the ring happened to be two people of contrasting appearance: one small and fast, barely visible with both traits combined, while the other was almost comically large and consequently looking to be moving in slow motion with every movement.

Due to the fact that heroes and villains were always engaged in combat, it was ingrained in daily life, so most people just kept going about their usual routines. Regardless, any disturbance was disturbance, and onlookers gathered, a mixture of ordinary people and reporters vying to be the first with the exclusive story. 

The crowd watched as the swift Hero struck the hefty villain with pinpoint strikes as he dashed around at breakneck speed. Excited comments and whispers spread throughout the group of people as they watched the two fight, all curious to see who would win the epic battle between David and Goliath. But although the majority of competitors would have had serious expressions on their faces as they plotted their attacks and tried to read their opponents, the figure who was darting around appeared to be grinning broadly. With his smile, and the numerous taunts that erupted from his mouth, the sizable crowd observing became certain that it was the Vigilante Hero known as Redback.

“He’s really fighting to keep his No. 7 spot on the Hero list, isn’t he? Six villains in one week, that’s crazy.”

At the end of the block, the onlookers stared fixedly at the big brown behemoth as it feverishly swiped at itself. Redback moved so quickly around it that it seemed as though he was floating in the air, and with every dart around the enormous figure, his webbed cape flew around him. He sported a deep blue-tinted custom made suit that alternated between crimson and black. His calling card was a giant red spider insignia on his chest, which both villains and civilians recognized as a sign that justice was about to be served.

"Hasn't your mother ever told you to wipe your feet at the door? Look!" Redback delivered a straight punch to Dirt's face, tripping him backwards over his own two feet. With the Hero’s brutal strike, masses of dirt flew off of his body. "You're tracking dirt all over the place!" 

The audience watched as the brown giant staggered through the street, still trying to recover from the last hit. Now that it was closer, it was more visibly the plain outline of a man covered in crumbling earthy dirt. It grumbled as its big feet slapped the ground, launching specs of dirt into the air with each stride. 

Despite finding enjoyment in his battle just seconds before, panic swept across the audience as he looked to be approaching them. One of the commentators grew nervous and turned to his friend. "Dude…"

His friend instantly smacked his shoulder and raised a finger to his lips. "Shh! Don't make a sound!"

Thus, the two guys, as well as the rest of the crowd, stood there, one man quivering with fear and the other paralyzed with shock, watching as a gigantic brown foot kept stomping down the street. As the dirt monster came closer down the block, their bodies trembled from the sheer weight of his feet colliding with the earth, causing thundering steps to bounce around and ricochet off their bones. All they could do was watch as their fate approached, knowing that civilians were in no position to take on such villains, whether they had Quirks or not.

Suddenly, they heard something whizzing over them. Their eyes tried to track the shadowy figure that moved above them, but it was futile; his four limbs possessed the strength, dexterity, and speed of eight. But as they looked back down the street, they noticed a shimmering pattern. There were dozens of thin, tiny, glittering strings in front of them, and where they met, they resembled raindrops frozen in place, twinkling as though someone had taken each droplet and glued it so that the sun could dance across them. 

Upon completing his web-making and landing out of sight, Redback watched as the dirt creature charged up the street and stumbled right into the crystalline net in front of him, almost breaking through the wall of webbing. However, as expected, the strong webs simply absorbed Dirt's pressing force and pushed it back into him, causing him to become entangled and collapse, all nearby objects within a twenty-foot zone shaking as he crashed to the ground.

“Arghh!” He cried out, grumbling following suit as he struggled to get up. But before he could get off his knee, Redback descended from above and landed on his back.

In a swift motion, Redback lifted Dirt’s right arm in the air. He whiffed the air before saying, “You need a shower, dude — bad.” Then, he pushed the arm towards the left side of his torso while throwing his own body weight in the same direction. From a mix between the motion and Redback’s sheer strength alone, Dirt flipped over entirely, causing his chest to be exposed. Redback pinned him to the ground effortlessly, his knee pressing into Dirt's chest as he still struggled to break free from the webs. "Looks like I've got you right where I want you," Redback taunted with a smirk. 

He swung his head down towards Dirt's chest in an instant, releasing his chelicerae from his jaw. His fangs emerged from the basal section and swung out at their prey. He was aware that the feeling of them piercing his victim's skin would be no more agonizing than that of two tiny needles; but these tiny needles weren't entirely harmless, as they could easily pierce the skin before pumping neurotoxin out of their poison ducts.

As soon as they did, Dirt released a deep groan before attempting to pull Redback off of him, but his attempt was simply that - an attempt. His arm reached up, but soon went limp and fell back down with a thud. Dirt winced as the venom seeped further into his bloodstream, causing his muscles to weaken and his vision to blur before fading to black. 

Redback leaned in close, muttering, "You should've known better than to challenge me."

He leaned back with a triumphant grin, watching as Dirt's body went still. Once he got confirmation that paralysis was taking over his body, he retracted his fangs and quickly pulled his mask back down over his mouth. He jumped down, landing right in front of the large group of spectators, with the majority of them sprinting forward, a combination of congrats and whispers of awe taking over them.

“Redback, you’re so cool!” 

“What a hero.”

“Hey, Redback!” He glanced down at the youngster holding out a blue cap and permanent marker. The scar under his cheek and bruised knuckles stuck out to him. “Can you sign my hat?” Before he knew it, his observations had compelled him to fulfill the request.

“Sure, kid. Don’t lose it.” He grabbed the marker, scribbling his signature with a steady hand. Once he placed the hat back on the kid’s head, a recorder was thrust in his face.

“Redback, can you answer some questions for us?” The reporter's voice cut through the excited chatter of the crowd, drawing all attention to him.

Redback took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the questions that were about to come his way. ‘Interviewers…typical.’ It wasn't that he disliked them, they just all seemed to enjoy picking out bits and pieces from each response and spinning them into a mainly fictitious tale for profit, fame, and undeserved glory.

“We know about your dedication to restoring society’s order for not only civilians, but also Heroes and our judicial system. How do you plan on going about that? Was this villain a part of your efforts? How does he play into your mission?”

Just as he was about to answer, a loud pinging sound rang out. He traced the sounds down to his watch, where he noticed the alert:

[15:00 — XXX BUILDING]

He smiled as he was reminded of the meeting he scheduled – it was perfect timing. With a wave of his hand, he announced, “Sorry, folks, gotta run! Stay safe!”

“Wait!” He turned around to see another interviewer. “What about, um…him?”

He followed the gaze of the crowd to Dirt's limp body, then shrugged. Although he wasn't always confident that the police would carry out their duties to the best of their abilities—which was why he decided to administer justice himself—he was certain that their interests would coincide when it came to a minor threat such as Dirt. 

“The authorities are on their way.” At their concerned faces, he added over his shoulder, “Besides, he’s not going anywhere. Paralysis lasts for the next couple hours!” 

With that, he took off, a few strands of webbing ejecting from his hand and latching to the edge of a small building. He leaped up, the webbing propelling him upward and into the air, where he began gliding and swinging with his webs as if they were white vines in a jungle of skyscrapers. The city beneath him appeared to diminish as he soared higher, the wind roaring past his ears. 

His thoughts wandered as he swung between rooftops, hardly staying on one long enough before moving on to the next.

‘Redback…what a stupid name.’

When the name Redback was assigned to him, he didn’t reject it, as he didn’t expect to hear other people calling him it all the time. But, then again, he truthfully hadn’t expected to become the hero he was now known as. In fact, before he became known as the vigilante hero he was, he used to be the one causing the trouble. Petty crimes, but still, he used to wreak havoc more than he prevented it. 

He sat off the side of a building, his web supporting him as he ceased swinging. He was gazing at the sun sinking beyond the horizon, his webbed cape billowing in the breeze.

‘Kenji O’Hara.’

That was the name he was given at birth. Beyond that name held nothing. 

And then there was Redback.

Redback was the name he earned. The brutal man with nothing to lose and nothing holding him back. The man whose origins could be traced to the Underground Masquerade, an illicit fighting ring in a covert car park. The man whose Spider Quirk bestowed upon him such freakishly powerful abilities that most saw an opportunity for exploitation rather than allyship. The man who, in a foolish adolescent moment, branded a large symbol of a spider on his back—a mistake that, when exposed in the middle of a fight, gave rise to the grimly gallant fighter. This man's reputation preceded him wherever he went, striking fear into the hearts of his opponents.

Everyone knew Redback, barely anyone saw Kenji.

He took a few steps upon landing on the XXX Building before resting on the railing. From this vantage point, you could see the beauty of the city and catch a glimpse of the peace that comes from the hustle and bustle of city life. The idea that such tranquility could be found in the midst of such mayhem gave him comfort. Cars slickly skimming the streets, little specks strolling to the train station. There were no people, no heroes, and no villains from up here. It was simply a city, and everybody was one.

“O’Hara.”

Turning around, he saw her hallmark tall bunny ears. Their massive presence overshadowed her, bestowing upon her an air of innocence mixed with authority. Her grin sent the same message—it was kind yet commanding. As if he had never noticed it before, her skin caught his attention next. It was a delicate bronze that, in the sunset, seemed to have the hue of a highly prized and lovingly preserved gold coin. And, of course, this wasn’t his first time seeing her Hero costume, but the white sleeveless leotard that showed off her hauntingly impressive muscles never failed to entice him.

After a few seconds of observation and appreciation, he decided to return the favor of her casual greeting. “Usagiyama.”

“Don’t web your shorts looking,” Mirko joked as she sauntered over to him, her knee-length white hair swaying with each step. “But I am impressed – you’re on time.” She slid in the space next to him, her back against the railing as she faced the opposite direction. Her triceps flexed as she rested her elbows on it. “I thought you’d be late, especially after seeing your work.” At his raised brow, she added, “Dirt monster.”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Ohhh, dirt boy. Yeah,” he grinned, “I handled that. And don't worry; I'll always be on time for you.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Good to know," she replied, stretching her legs out in front of her as she grew more comfortable. "Just don't let that dirt guy slow you down next time." 

Kenji was acquainted with Mirko from prior Hero events. Being the fifth-ranked Hero, she was there for both award ceremonies and simple accolades; being No. 7 himself, he was also there, his unwavering attention fixed on the most attractive and self-assured lady in the room, perhaps one characteristic enhancing the other.

"Slow me down, eh? You think I can be slowed down?" As he carried on, she lightly exhaled and rolled her eyes. She knew what he was going to say next. "Or is that the fear of losing your rank to me talking?"

She snorted at his competitive spirit, unfazed by his attempt to intimidate and stir her up. "You've been saying you'll take my spot for weeks now; aren't you tired of your wishes not coming true?" At the wave of his hand, she leaned in close to him with a playful glint in her eye. "Actions speak louder than words, darling," she challenged.

"Which makes me curious as to why you have that No. 5 spot to begin with."

As they both hummed off their playful retorts, the conversation died down. Suddenly, it felt as if a chilly wind passed through, and Kenji awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Despite sharing the same characteristics of a rabbit, a prey animal, Mirko seemed to have the abilities of a predator — she could sense fear. It worried him, asking about it, but if he didn’t, she would sense that there was something he was afraid to ask, and she would find out and press him about it anyway.

He took a long breath, bracing himself for the question that had been plaguing him; already, at the change in behavior, she raised her brow. "Did you, uh…did you get the flowers?"

Besides the wind whistling and the little noises from urban life, there was not a sound to be heard between the two. Mirko's piercing stare seemed to see right through Kenji, making him even more anxious as the question hung in the air, awaiting her response. 

He wasn’t quite sure what he was so nervous about – they had been on a couple of dates already. Kenji, who had lived his entire life fearlessly, had no trouble approaching Mirko at the aforementioned events, chatting her up and praising her on her successes before going in for the kill with a simple date proposal. In all honesty, he didn't expect her to arrive, but when she did, they hit it off just as well as before, and the rest was history. The first date had been cut short by a tiny gang of petty terrorists, but there seemed to be nothing better for Kenji and Mirko to connect over than kicking ass. Following that, dates continued amongst the usual turmoil that came with hero life, and they grew a foundationally sound friendship.

A Hero of Kenji's caliber was not familiar with the feeling of anxiety; however, he felt as though his heart would burst. That was, until she gave him a kind smile. She seemed to enjoy seeing him stress, even if just for a few minutes. "I did."

"Bold move sending a rabbit some flowers"—she turned to face him, a wider grin on her lips—"but that is what I like about you."

Kenji chuckled, relieved that she appreciated his gesture. “So, are you anywhere close to being ready yet?” He didn’t mean to rush her, but he knew she would correct him if she felt a boundary was being pushed. As ironic as it was, the only thing keeping them from taking the next step was the very thing that had brought them together in the first place.

"C'mon, O'Hara," she murmured, transferring her weight from one pawed foot to the next while looking straight ahead. "You know my rule."

“Right, the rule.”

She chuckled at his grimace, but it quickly got silent again as both Heroes fell into deep thought.

When Kenji first proposed that they become an official couple, Mirko froze. It was actually the only time he had ever seen her confidence waiver, and it was the first time she explained the rule.

‘No attachments, no hardcore relationships. Not while I’m a Hero.’

It was a good rule, except for the fact that anyone who knew Mirko knew that she would be a Hero until her body was physically incapable of fighting, and everyone knew that would be when she was dead.

When she first told Kenji about it, he didn't take it too hard. They had only gone out a few times in the past five months, so being the confident man he was, he didn't see much harm in continuing a casual relationship. When he was ready to get serious, he would eventually find someone who shared her beauty, personality, and sense of humor, at which point he would just move on.

That was what he told himself at first, until he ventured out into the dating scene and returned to the one butterfly among flies forever caught in his web. 

The pill he had to swallow at that point was not particularly difficult, but it was one he hadn't previously acknowledged as existing. Nobody shared Mirko's drive. Nobody possessed her energy, her spirit, and most importantly, her passion. She was the only Hero in the world who matched, if not exceeded the gratification he received from reading his opponent, delivering blow after blow, and emerging victorious. 

And, of course, the thing that attracted him most and kept him trapped in her web – no one matched her confidence.

The one recurring thread in most of Kenji’s failed dates was the one perception he had tried to get away from. The explanation given by almost every girl that walked away was that he was just too intimidating. Sometimes it was his appearance; to be fair, being a tall, well-built guy with a deathly aura designed to scare off any assailant didn’t come in handy all the time. Sometimes it was his jokes – most people were offended by them, while others simply couldn't match his sense of humor. But some had offered to divulge further, claiming that they sensed a wall up that they knew he would not allow them over. Whether it was his physical state or his mental one, among all complaints, he always seemed to be too much.

But for a girl who found the word ‘challenge’ simply did not exist in her vocabulary, as she had never encountered one, Kenji O’Hara’s walls were akin to stepping stones that forged a path to a person with deeper experiences and emotions than most normally have. Whether they saw it as beneficial or detrimental, both had grown up fighting and sparking up trouble, and Mirko, given her status, found it difficult to connect with anybody who understood her past and present behaviors. But when she told Kenji of her experiences, he did the one thing most failed to do – he listened. There was no excessive questioning or feedback, and although Mirko generally preferred people speaking their mind with confidence, she respected his undivided attention as his version of a bold statement. Despite his experience matching hers to a tee, having both come from the Underground Masquerade, the fact that the ‘intimidating’ Redback had the capacity for empathy and support was what stuck with her the most.

“I understand, take all the time you need.”

Unfortunately, that was where her problems started.

Behind the aura he had built up to protect himself, Kenji was a caring jokester with a confidence that seemed to inspire even the most insecure people. Even though it was naive to believe, he appeared to be without flaw. So, if she indulged and pursued a long-term relationship with him, she would do all in her power to assure that it was secure, all because of the man underneath that mask. This was the precise reason she was hesitant to start a relationship with him.

Throughout her life, Mirko always had to choose one or the other. Similarly, when she chose to be a Hero, she gave up all else. The battle and its outcome always came first; even if it meant her body, she would sacrifice it for the fight. Yes, that was the duty that came along with the title, but she had always been that way, even as a combative delinquent. So, upon her ultimate transformation into a Hero, she knew she had to establish a self-rule, something that would make sure she remembered the choice she had made for the rest of her life.

‘No attachments, no hardcore relationships. Not while I’m a Hero.’

If there ever happened to be anyone who managed to slink between the trees and brush and make their way to the clearing that was her heart, she knew she would eventually be forced into another choice. So with that rule in place, becoming a Hero was the last life-altering choice she would make.

“But didn’t you say you’d live every day like it was your last?” 

At O'Hara's question, her eyes widened. This wasn’t Kenji’s first time challenging her, but for some reason, this time threw her off. She slowly nodded, “I-I did. I do, but-”

His hand caught hers, fingers weaving with such delicacy that she almost didn’t believe that Redback and Kenji were the same man. The sincerity in his eyes spoke more to her than his words as he asked, “Then why stop now? Live everyday with me like it’s your last too.”

Thinking of such a possibility made her breath catch in her throat. Breaking her own rule and possibly jeopardizing her Hero career by pursuing something as selfish as a relationship sounded like a no-brainer to her. However, in regards to someone as special as Kenji...

She quickly caught herself, shaking off that small fear of diving in, and shook her hand free from his, taking a few steps back. “Woah, don’t tell me you’re getting all soft on me now, O’Hara.” 

Mirko sighed, his only answer to her jest being a stare. He was serious, and when Kenji was serious, he meant it. With her back to him, she crossed her arms and closed her eyes in thought. "I've already made my final choice. You know that I'm done picking between 'this' and 'that'; I can't have it be 'this', 'that', or you."

With this, she was confident that he would back down and accept her decision. She knew Kenji would be disappointed; hell, it disappointed her too, but she knew in any out-firming contest, she would be firm enough to keep him at bay.

But Kenji was fast approaching, dancing through her trees, heading straight for her clearing. 

"Make it 'this' and me, or 'that' and me, because that's all it'll ever be." And all of a sudden, Mirko discovered that he had overcome each obstacle designed to prevent him from breaking through her own barriers and reaching her heart, and was now standing in the center of her clearing. "I'm not going anywhere."

When she opened her eyes, he was standing in front of her. His face was so unbelievably close to hers, his masked nose resting against her own. "I don't care if it takes you eight days, eight years, or eight lifetimes. I will always be here." His unwavering commitment to her rendered her dumbfounded, and before she knew it, she had reached by his side, grabbing his hand with fingers as soft as rabbit paws.

“I just don’t want to mess things up,” she whispered. 

Kenji put his other arm around her waist protectively, softly pressing her against him in a moment of vulnerability he was certain he would never see from her again. Even though she wasn't in a physical altercation, being brazen or aggressive, he still cherished the transparency that came along with her confidence. It was just this—her shameless acceptance to vulnerability and her newfound openness to failure—that drew him in even more.

He moved his covered lips against her ear to whisper, “You’ll never lose your No. 5 spot.”

With those words, he promised, in his own unique way, that he would never be one of her options, and they stood there in silence as they both indulged in the newly discovered sense of belonging.

“Y’know, except for when I surpass you.” 

He was met with a hard push to his chest, sending him back a few steps. “What? Being No. 7 is getting boring,” he laughed.

Through her own smile, Mirko replied, “You’ll have to catch up to me first, O’Hara.”

They embraced again, Kenji clutching his new partner in justice. Gentle fingers grazed the ends of his mask as she reached up to raise it and reveal his lips. They locked eyes and drank in the intensity of the moment before leaning in, their lips—

Both of their heads whipped to the side as the sound of a loud explosion erupted, grey smoke emitting from an intersection a few blocks away.

“Ah, duty calls.” Glancing back down at her, Kenji's smile appeared to be permanently stuck as he realized he had finally caught the girl he had been chasing for months. “So, ‘this’ with me or ‘that’ with me?”

She looked to the side one more time before returning her gaze to Kenji. She loved being in his arms, and wouldn’t have minded letting another Hero take care of things, but Mirko had met her equal in experience and in valor, and she knew there was no one else she would want to fight beside. 

"‘That’ with you.”

"Alright, you're on!" Kenji raced away from her, leaping off the roof. The following second, she noticed him land on a nearby rooftop before flipping in the air to the next.

Mirko did not hesitate to take up the challenge. She immediately hopped over, already utilizing her Rabbit Quirk to narrow the gap and pass him. "See you there, loser!"

Although Kenji knew she’d push herself to leave him in the dust and get there first, he didn’t quite care to do the same. In fact, for once, this was a battle he didn’t mind losing. He looked over to her again, his eyes tracing her every movement as she raced between buildings and streets. 

For some reason, he felt as if he already won.

••●───── 🕸️⋅🕷⋅🕸️ ─────●••

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

What Future Historians Say Will Shock You | Real Time with Bill Maher

And finally, New Rule: Someone, maybe AI, has to figure out a way to slow down time. Because what everyone has been saying to me lately is, "I can't believe it's May." Oh, Americans, we do nothing but bitch about everything under the sun, but damn it, life goes by too fast. It's Memorial Day in a week? Christ, I might as well start my Christmas shopping.

But it is, it's May. A month I have been anticipating for a long time because my book comes out next week. A book I have waited my whole career to write. One that is based on collecting the creme de la creme of these end of the show editorials and reimagining them, but also cover some virgin territory.

For example, I'm kind of obsessed with the idea of what historians of the future will say about us. Imagine it's the year 3024, and you're living in a colony on the planet Musk, formerly Mars. What will the historian say about the Americans of 2024? Well probably, that we were self-absorbed, algorithmically enslaved, on drugs and worshiped a god named Apple.

But what they won't do is write about the very thing that consumes us: our petty squabbles. In the myopia of the present our partisan differences make each side believe they're nothing like the other side. Libtards and deplorables. Historians will disagree. They won't see red on one side and blue on the other. You're thinking of Jaws 3D.

But historians see the character of a people as a whole. The Scots were clannish, the Spartans stoic, the Mongols expansionist, the Greeks were too into anal. And for us, it will be no different. Historians will say, we're also too into anal.

But also, the other thing. They will see us as a singular people with the same pathologies and unappealing traits on both sides. Traits that simply manifest themselves differently. For example, I believe, they will say, Americans of our era were unscientific. One side thought, climate change was a hoax. One thought, gender was a construct. One warred against Mother Nature. One against motherhood. One doubts Evolution, one wears masks when they're alone in the car. Which is kind of like wearing a condom to jerk off.

In medical schools now, professors are so fearful of being labeled transphobic, they have to apologize for saying words like male, female and pregnant woman.

Katie Herzog writes, "Some of the country's top medical students are being taught that humans are not, like other mammals, a species comprising two sexes." "The notion of sex, they are learning, is just a man-made creation."

Okay, but generally, the people with breasts and vaginas who give birth are the women and the ones with the penis, hogging the remote are men.

Historians will say that as a people, Americans lost our rationality. They'll say, we were conspiracy theorists. The right wanted to believe that Obama was born in Kenya. The left wanted to believe in Trump's pee tape. We have January 6th Truthers but the Washington Post reports that there are also now October 7th Truthers who believe Hamas never raped anybody and the hostages all died of natural causes. Now, does the right do conspiracy more? I think they do. QAnon and Jewish space lasers. Hillary's pedophile ring, microchips and the vaccine, Sandy Hook didn't happen, the election was stolen, Jews are trying to replace us. Yeah, but of course, on the left… Jews are the Nazis now. Somehow even enemies always find a way to agree to blame everything on the Jews.

I think, future historians will see us as a sad people, saddled with a genetic predisposition to always break into factions and then be consumed with the hate that engenders. Each side in America right now considers the other an existential threat. To the point where both camps literally collaborate with foreign enemies over fellow Americans.

Republican news channels use Russian talking points. Their voters wear t-shirts that say, "I'd rather be Russian than Democrat" and their leader sides with Putin. When today's Republican watches Rocky IV, they root for Ivan Drago.

Meanwhile, on the left this happened. Americans chanting death to America. College professors and their students exhilarated by aligning with a theocratic murderous terrorist group with values fundamentally opposed to our own.

Finally, I think, the people of the future will ironically be puzzled by our common desire to live in the past. On Fox News they're always pining for 1950, to make America great again. And in The Huffington Post it's always 1619, and nothing has changed.

For people so being into the moment, nobody seems to wanna live in the year we're living in. Trump's entire shtick is to return America to some idyllic time when the traditional family was a husband, a wife, a couple of kids and a porn star on the side. A time when America was the only Superpower and you could drink at work. When a cheeseburger cost a dime and a girl brought it to you on roller skates and she liked it when you complimented her ass. Nikki Haley says, "America was never racist." And then there are voices on the left saying racism has never been worse.

And the normies in the center say, "how hard is it to meet in the middle and just not be stupid about shit?" And that's who my book is for. People who don't wanna be stupid about shit.

[khan-trashbin]

Snippet 11: Learning to Trust

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male OC/ Reader

What is This?: I write snippets of interactions between my male original character, Nine "Spartan", and Simon "Ghost" Riley, some I use in my supposedly longer story but all of them are to practice my writing and to document my progress. So any constructive criticism or even questions are appreciated!

This one doesn't have any defining physical features so, if desired, you could insert yourself as Nine and be the man who Ghost is lowkey (so lowkey he doesn't even realize he is doing it) pining after.

Short Synopsis: Ghost is learning just how much he can trust and lean on Laswell's loaned operative. He just might find a bit too much comfort in what he learns compared to if it were anyone else though, but he won't think about that. At all. Nope.

Word Count: 837

Ghost held up his sidearm, a solid and reliable standard-issue Glock-17, matching his attacker’s own stance as they circled around each other, sizing the other up in their stand-off. Ghost’s weapons could only be more reliable if it wasn’t missing one vital component. Ghost knew there were no more bullets left in the clip and the chamber was empty, already having been spent, the casing lay somewhere on the floor below from an earlier fire-fight.

But the target didn’t know this, for as long as he thought Ghost would still kill him if he fired, Ghost had a much greater chance of staying alive, or at least prolonging the time before his death until the rest of the 141 could pick up where he left off. He just had to keep up the facade for as long as he could, hold the target here until one of the others lined something workable up and were given the go-ahead for the shot. But, the comms had already gone dark, giving Ghost no way to know if someone was set in a sniper's nest or if they were even right outside the door behind the target. So, he knew he wasn’t right fucked quite yet, but hell if it felt like it. However this was no matter, if he could get the target in front of the tall windows placed just a little behind them then, Ghost hoped - trusted - that a sniper would fix this FUBAR mess of an assignment and subsequently let Ghost pack up and out with the laptop intact and the target dusted.

Ghost began to slowly and carefully back up, and the target, none the wiser, followed his footsteps forward. Walking backwards, Ghost clocked the start of the floor-to-ceiling windows knowing he was going to stop as soon as the target broached the view of the outside. As he stopped, Ghost’s eyes darted towards the buildings he could see adjacent to the one the two were occupying catching onto a glimmer of light flashing twice on the rooftop of one of the taller buildings around, what must have had at least a five-floor height advantage to the level Ghost stood.

Two flashes.

Satisfaction and a touch of relief climbed up Ghost’s face before he could temper it down, despite already being hidden from view by his iconic mask. Confidence scraped across his bones as he lowered his handgun, holding eye contact with the other as his attacker’s face changed, believing he had outdone the infamous Ghost.

“Spartan,” he addressed to someone not in the room, drawing confusion from the only other person in the room. The target’s brows furrowed as his eyes scanned the room again for any of the Ghost’s compatriots and found nothing, no one.

“You got me?” Ghost inquired, keeping eye contact with the target. Barely a beat later, the window shattered and the target slumped forward onto his knees before his torso leaned away from the window, his head following to the side with a thud and crack onto the concrete floor, blood pooling around the gunshot wound in the side of his head.

“I got you,” affirmed a calm voice from the radio attached to the front of Ghost’s tac gear.

Ghost took a breath in and slowly sighed, feeling the adrenaline start to seep out of his body, replaced with a warmth that came with the feeling of knowing he was right to place his trust and life within Nine’s hands. Something he might have known peripherally, but hadn't yet been proven. But now it seeped into his head that Nine had him, that he could trust him to have him.

“Bloody good shot,” Ghost said admiring the straight shot through the temple of the target’s head.

“You were watching, had to impress you a little bit,” crackled the radio.

“You feeling impressed, Lieutenant?” Just when Ghost was thinking that the warmth would be smothered, Nine just continued to fan it into bloom.

“If you missed your shots, we wouldn’t be keeping you around, Operative.”

“Guess it’s good for you that I never miss.”

This time Ghost let a small smile crack his face, not fighting the warmth as it continued to pour into his chest. He leaned his head back knowing that as long as Nine’s sights held him he just might be safe enough to breathe, to feel, to pause and be human for just a moment (for a moment, just a moment, to think of being Simon instead of Ghost). And maybe he was thinking too much, but Simon couldn’t help but think that as long as he had Nine, he might…

He cut off that train of thought, looking back up at where he knew Nine must be holed up. He radioed into the Captain, confirming the death of the target and the successful retrieval of the laptop, data undamaged. After the succinct conversation clicked to a close, he looked back up to the same building before he quickly exited the room, leaving Nine’s sight.

[two-stud-invasion]

Gnarpy i will follow up with a text of a so called "right wing activist" called "ben shapiro" from earth what do you think of it

"Hello, is this Pizza Hut?Excellent. My name is Ben Shapiro. Conservative thought leader. Prominent white YouTuber. The Muggsy Bogues of the intellectual dark Web. And—look, it’s just a fact—I would like to order some pizza pie. If you are triggered by that request, I do not care. I truly do not.Now let’s discuss conditions. First, thank you for agreeing to debate me. Typically, in fora such as this, I am met with ad-hominem mudslinging, anything from “You racist creep” or “Is that your real voice?” to raucous schoolyard laughter and threats of the dreaded “toilet swirly.” However, your willingness to engage with me over the phone on the subject of pizza shows an intellectual fortitude and openness to dangerous ideas which reflects highly on your character. Huzzah, good sir. Huzzah.Second, any pizza I order will be male. None of this “Our pizza identifies as trans-fluid-pan-poly”—no. Pizza is a boy. With a penis. It’s that simple. It’s been true for all of human history, from Plato to Socrates to Mr. Mistoffelees, and any attempt to rewrite the pillars of Western thought will be met with a hearty “Fuh!” by yours truly. And, trust me, that is not a fate you wish to meet.Now. With regard to my topping preference. I have eaten from your pizzeria in times past, and it must be said: your pepperoni is embarrassingly spicy. Frankly, it boggles the mind. I mean, what kind of drugs are you inhaling over there? Pot?! One bite of that stuff and I had to take a shower. So tread lightly when it comes to spice, my good man. You do not want to see me at my most epic. Like the great white hero of Zack Snyder’s classic film “300,” I will kick you.Onions, peppers—no, thank you. If I wanted veggies, I’d go to a salad bar. I’m not some sort of vegan, Cory Booker weirdo. And your efforts to Michelle Obama-ize the great American pizza pie are, frankly, hilarious. Though not as funny as the impressively named P’Zone—when I finally figured out that genuinely creative pun, I laughed until I cried and peed. A true Spartan admits defeat, and I must admit that, in this instance, your Hut humor slayed me, Dennis Miller style.And, with that, you have earned my order. Congratulations. Ahem. Without further ado, I would like your smallest child pizza, no sauce, extra cheese. Hello? Aha. A hang-up. Another triggered lib, bested by logic. Damn it. I’m fucking starving."

. . 🛸 “ With my four eyez, I CAN’T READ A LONG PARAGRAPH YOU GLORP. ”

[ageless-aislynn]

Title: “15 Minutes” (10/15) Author:  @ageless-aislynn​ Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: As you heal, you're not alone. Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating:  T (PG13) Length: 2,604 (this chapter, 24,863 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N:  Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. Apologies for the break we took for a few weeks here. 😳This chapter turned out a little longer than I expected, (please enter "that's what she said" joke of your choice here), so I hope that makes up a bit for the delay. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger​ @mysardencut​ @laurenstacy610​ @sporadicbelievernightmare​ @ultrablackwidower​ @bxmxtx​ @jellotherelol @mirandastuckinthe80s

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Pressure on your chest brought you startling awake, flinging your left arm up as if to try and break free of a restraint. White hot pain burst from your shoulder down your bicep like a cord of fire trying to amputate your arm. You gave a strangled cry, managing to sit up and clutch at the various points of hurt as the agony gradually faded.

Out of the darkness, a now-familiar woman's voice said your rank and last name. "Are you all right? Do you need me to dispatch medical assistance?"

"No," you quickly said, automatically straightening your sleep-rumpled shirt. "I moved my arm wrong. Thanks, though."

"Of course," she returned, her tone kind.

"Are you, um, monitoring me?"

"Just for sounds of distress or pain. John was adamant that your privacy be respected as much as possible."

That made you smile slightly under the cover of the lack of light. "I hope they've given you something else to do other than to listen for me to say ouch."

"Not to worry, I keep busy."

You nodded even though she couldn't see it. Or maybe she could? Was she holed up in some ONI office, watching you with thermal signatures or some other sort of tech? "I appreciate it, Ms. Classified. Though I believe you gave me your name, didn't you? I'm sorry, I can't remember what it was."

"You were a little busy at the time," she demurred. "It's Cortana but I rather like 'Ms. Classified,' I have to say. It's like a nickname between friends, isn't it?"

"It is," you said. "And please feel free to use my first name. No need for friends to stand on formality."

"Thank you," she said and, after a slight pause, added your name as if it were an honor to do so.

Was she a Spartan, perhaps? Something about her careful manner reminded you of how John sometimes reacted to interpersonal things as if he hadn't ever dealt with them before and wanted desperately to be right in his response.

You wasn't sure if you should ask and while you were still wondering, she said goodbye with a sound like pixels vanishing, though there had been no hologram of her to see this time.

Your day was a lot more mundane after that. PT came by as Dr. Savannah had said they would, and you dutifully did the exercises with minimal grumbling and complaining. The ancient saying about medics being terrible patients was still said for a reason, after all, but you didn't want to be One Of Those if you could help it.

The therapist had brought you breakfast from the mess for after your session: the cold cereal MRE, typically called mush rarely edible, along with plain black coffee. She also told you that the next session would be tomorrow instead of later today, due to a scheduling conflict.

So that left you with a whole lot of day and very little to fill it.

You were scrolling through your padd, looking through old documents and messages, intending to clean up and organize things but, more often than not, ended up reminiscing on the past, on friends once part of your every day life now long gone, either transferred away or worse.

You discovered a folder full of sketches of various Mjolnir designs you'd done back before you'd decided for certain to begin training to be a Brokkr tech. Your interest in the Spartans and their armor had been a mere hobby, then.

You were far from a gifted artist but trying to capture the different iterations, the bulkier but classic shapes of the Mark V, the more streamlined Mark VI, had made for fun practice. You'd also tried out a few ideas of your own, such as "floating" pieces of armor to try and better protect the Spartans' joints without sacrificing mobility. The final image, though, had been a purely fanciful one: a fusion of Mjolnir and medieval, a literal Spartan in shining armor.

You couldn't help but chuckle. There was no number on the chest plate but it was clearly Master Chief to anybody who was familiar with his armor configuration. The patterning on his visor had a texture reminiscent of a knight's helm and the flare of his shield had a shape like the plume of a feather at the crest of his head. One arm was extended but incomplete: you hadn't decided whether to give him a BR or DMR or go for something like a broadsword or lance. Then you'd simply never come back to finish it and it had been forgotten in your drafts for all this time.

Tapping a fingertip contemplatively against your lip, you thought for a moment, then impulsively picked up your stylus and began to draw.

Gentle fingertips brushed against your hair and you woke to find John next to the bed.

"Sorry to bother you," he murmured, "but you looked uncomfortable."

The moment he said that, your neck began protesting the odd angle your head had slumped into.

"Well, that was a bad idea," you said plaintively, straightening up very slowly. Your entire body ached like you'd been moonlighting as a punching bag. Your padd slipped off your lap to the mattress, then bounced towards the edge, and John easily caught it on the fly.

You suddenly remembered what had been on it. The screen was dark but all it would take was a brush of a finger to activate it again and he'd see--

"What's this?" he said, orientating the padd right side up.

"That's... my poor attempt at artistry," you said, feeling heat blooming up your neck. You resisted the urge to snatch it from his hand and throw it to the floor yourself.

"It's not poor," he countered, studying it even more intently. "Not at all. I like it a lot, especially the detail here."

He tapped the image and the SPNKr rocket launcher you'd placed casually in the Spartan's hand, resting on the armored shoulder, expanded to better reveal the intricate filigree you'd spent a considerable amount of time adding to the large missile chamber.

"I mean, it's not practical, of course," you mumbled but his sincere appreciation lessened your embarrassment. "I wanted a medieval feel to a modern weapon."

"Do you have others?" he asked, handing the padd back to you.

You appreciated that he didn't just start flipping through the images. You swiped back to show him your other Mjolnir studies.

The very corner of his mouth twitched. "These are all mine, aren't they?"

"Hm, I suppose they are," you said in mock surprise. "It looks like I've had a favorite Spartan for a while now."

"Good," he said decisively, then glanced at you with a soft smile. "Could I send a copy of this to R&D?"

"Which one?" you asked, alarmed.

"The floating armor," he said, the smile growing a bit.

"Yeah, if you want," you said and forwarded the study to him. "I doubt I've thought of anything they haven't by now but I guess you never know."

"And could I have a copy of the other one, just for me?"

"Really?"

"Really," he confirmed.

You switched back to the medieval drawing, adding your signature with a flourish in the corner before forwarding that one as well.

The door chimed and he went to open it as if it were expected.

"Master Chief, sir!" the young private said, making a motion no doubt intended to be a salute that he couldn't complete because of the large and apparently heavy covered tray he was carrying.

"At ease," he said, taking the tray from him.

The private snapped a salute as crisp as if he were in the presence of Lord Hood himself, then kept standing in the open doorway, staring rather starstruck.

"Thank you, you're dismissed," John told him.

"If you or the Hero of the Pit need anything, let me know, sir," the marine said earnestly before backing away.

Once the door closed, you said, "That really is a terrible nickname."

"The Covenant call me 'Demon,'" John said, bringing the tray to the bed and setting it on the foot.

"'Demon' is badass," you countered. "Mine sounds like I fell in a hole and somehow managed to crawl back out."

"Crawling out of that hole wasn't a given," he said, "and you made sure nobody else was in there with you."

He lifted the cover on the tray, revealing two sizzling plates of food. The smell that hit you was divine.

Your voice dropped an entire octave. "Is that eggplant parmigiana?"

"I... think so? It's whatever was being served in the Spartan mess for lunch." His expression darkened. "You were supposed to get breakfast from there, too, but there was apparently some sort of mix-up. It's been dealt with."

You felt momentarily sorry for whoever had been on the receiving end of being dealt with. "I can't eat Spartan portions."

"You actually can because it so happens that I can calculate how many calories a Brokkr mechanic-slash-medic needs in order to heal properly." He held that with a serious expression for a moment, then winked. "And I also asked Dr. Savannah about it. She said, and I quote, 'Tell her it's fine to live a little.'"

"Oh, well, if it's doctor's orders..." you trailed off with a grin.

He left to get a small table and chair for himself since there was only the one lap tray and you took the opportunity to hit the head, thinking you'd be settled back in before he returned. As it turned out, you either greatly underestimated how far he had to go to find what he was looking for or, more likely, had greatly overestimated how quickly you could move.

Your left arm wanted to draw up to your torso from the way your damaged shoulder muscle was currently being foreshortened. Raising it even close to 45 degrees made it feel like it was being ripped off of your body. You took a couple of deep breaths, forcing it straight down to your side, and gritted your teeth though the pain as you returned to the main room.

John had already finished setting up the portable table and turned, his expression going almost comically aghast. "Should I call somebody? What can I do? I can carry you or--"

"No, it's fine," you told him. "I just have to work through it."

He hovered next to you as you made the few, torturous step back to the bed, his worry a palpable thing. Your bad knee buckled and he caught your arm -- fortunately, the right one -- to keep you from going down. His fingers hit a bruise hidden under your sleeve but you managed to not react.

The stricken look he gave you meant he'd seen the reaction anyway.

"There we go," you said, trying to sound breezy but the result was more winded than anything as you propped up against the headboard. "I'm ready for lunch. Are you? Lunch sounds great right about now."

He seemed at a loss as to what to do. You gingerly reached out and wrapped your fingers around his.

"I'm okay," you said softly. "I'm healing on schedule and it could've been much worse."

He nodded shortly, very, very carefully folding his other hand over yours. With a brief glance away, he nodded a final time as if agreeing to something you couldn't hear and then exhaled purposefully, affecting a lighter tone. "Well, let's see how that eggplant parmigiana is, then, hm?"

Even though physical therapy wasn't scheduled again until tomorrow, you went ahead and did the exercises anyway. Not only did it give you something to do after John left, but you were even more inspired to try to regain your strength as soon as possible.

Since you were alone, you felt free to swear your way more and more creatively through the entire session and only after the fact did you worry that maybe you had accidentally taught Cortana some new words and phrases.

Nah, you thought. Surely, she's not stuck sitting at some console all day and night, listening for me to need something, right?

You almost asked it out loud, just to see if she was listening, but decided against it. You didn't want to imagine she'd been instructed to keep her earpiece in to monitor you even when she took a meal or bathroom break. Or that maybe she never even actually got to go off-duty at all. It hadn't escaped your attention that John apparently didn't trust anybody else to provide your erstwhile overwatch.

You ate your dinner when it arrived, a very delicious chicken gumbo, then turned in early, since sleep was also an important factor in healing.

But your sleep was restless, the aches in your body keeping you from getting comfortable, and then when you did doze off, your mind kept taking you back to those moments when you were trapped. A couple of times, you found yourself jolting awake, John's name on your lips. You wondered if he was on base, asleep in the Spartan quarters. You'd assumed he would come back if he were here but you hadn't actually asked him to. It was his room, though, so wouldn't he...?

Try to get some sleep, that's the best thing right now. You'll feel stronger tomorrow, you silently instructed yourself, trying to find a comfortable position.

The next time you woke, your heart was thundering in your ears and you made a small panicked noise.

The lights abruptly came up to a quarter and you looked around wildly.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

John sat up from where he was stretched out over on the couch and you instinctively reached for him. He was there almost as if appearing by magic, letting you grip his hand as he leaned over you.

You were tangled in the covers and struggled to free yourself. He carefully extricated you with his free hand.

"Were you having a nightmare?" he asked and you nodded.

"I- I didn't know you were here," you said, stumbling over the words. "Why are you on the couch? You could share. I'd- I'd like you to."

He got that slightly stricken look again. "I'm heavy. I'll hurt you by moving around. I can't... I can't cause you more pain. I'm right here, though."

You understood what he meant but it still stung a bit like rejection. You normally would've let him go, would've tried to accept it gracefully, but the phantom weight on your chest changed the words on your tongue.

Your voice emerged small and compressed. "I need you, John."

The words clearly hit him like a plasma bolt to the chest and his fingers closed gently around yours.

"All right," he finally said. "I'll be careful."

It took a few minutes but eventually you were in his arms, turned on your right side with your injured left arm resting on his chest, your head tucked into the curve of his neck. All of the movement did hurt but you absolutely didn't care; all that was important was that he was here, you could hear his heart beneath your ear, could feel his warmth seeping into all of your pains and soothing them.

"Thank you," you murmured into the softness of his shirt.

"You don't have to thank me," he said, kissing the top of your head and lightly brushing his fingers across the hand you had on his sternum.

You were almost asleep when you thought, but weren't completely sure, that he also quietly said, "I need you, too."

[cinematicendevaourz]

Rebel Moon (Duology) #CVReview

Zack Snyder can make a really shitty movie without the constraints of a studio like Warner Bros. behind him forcing an editor into the room to clean up behind him.

Such is the issue with Cameron, Scott, even Tarantino - but the big issue with Rebel Moon here is that whereas Scott and Tarantino use dialogue to bloat that runtime and Cameron uses elongated camera shots to make an epic, Snyder warps time with various slow-motion scenes (first half speed, then a quarter in some instances) which in the near six hours that encapsulates the theatrical release of Rebel Moon's duology gets easier and easier to notice and makes any movie buff want to call Snyder out for cheating to make an epic.

The first part of the film starts off with assembling the band, then the last part is an extended Battle of Endor.

I wouldn't have had much of a problem with this being yet another shameless Star Wars rip-off but the lack of blood and cutscenes away from the gorier parts for a TBD director's cut (as his DC films sans "Man Of Steel") release is the definition of a shameless money grab, sacrificing the art for essentially twelve hours of content.

If those would have came out instead of this intentionally watered-down shit, I believe the film would have had more than a limited run in theaters and picked up by a distributor other than lame ass Netflix.

How does an Anthony Hopkins voiced A.I. that looks like some reject off "District 9" get more screen time than Cleopatra Coleman when her Elsa Bloodaxe is the main fugitive in the story?

And then the obligatory Euro-cinema miscegenial relationship between the protagonist Sofia Boutella's Kora and some non-rememorable coward-turned-soilder Michiel Huisman.

That was casting's best idea for a White Knight? I mean, I know Euro-cinema has a thing for emasculated caucazoid males under negroid females but Jeebuz !

The rest of the cast gets a pass though. Glad to see Snyder is still treating Ray Fisher well with his role as Darrian Bloodaxe and Ed Skrien started off as the next best thing to Michael Shannon, then ended up stealing scenes and becoming the most interesting character on-screen other than Anthony Hopkins as that bot.

I didn't like the part two intro. I hate when Snyder puts these instances of Welsh folk music in his films and these weird ass pagan celebrations like when Aquaman was bringing fish back to his village in "Justice League".

That is an annoying film trope (Hey, did anyone else notice a woman is almost raped in nearly every Snyder flick?) for Snyder to have and in no way did any square dancing or shucking wheat look anywhere as cool as the training scenes in either "300" films, but took up just as much time.

"Rebel Moon" is an ambitious project. While writing this review I see that the red band trailer just dropped for the director's cut, Elsa is featured in a prequel comic that dropped at the top of the year, there's videogames and all this other stuff to expand this Snyder brainchild, but I don't think I am alone when I say I wish Snyder would have went as hard for "Sucker Punch" as he did for this.

Steampunk and sci-fi meneagrie's work very well in books, but if audiences (other than myself) didn't like "Borderlands", I'll let the box office tell it.

What I'll say though is to start off "Rebel Moon" where "Return of The Jedi" ended was a bad move. To bloat a runtime with half of the film being shot in various speeds of slow-motion is a cheat to make an epic. To have Anthony Hopkins in a film as just a voice and to give Cleopatra Coleman around five minutes on-screen in a nearly six hour duology is a travesty.

Lastly, I dont know how Snyder did it, but he made laser-fire look more annoying than a Lego flick. Snyder should stick to Amazons and Spartans, not Star Wars. Sometimes it's ok for a director to go outside of their wheelhouse, "Rebel Moon" should teach Snyder to stick to the script.

-

C.V.R. The Bard

10th/Sept.2k24

[blorbos-of-the-7th-dawn]

Your OC encounters a beggar or panhandler who requests some money to relieve their many hardships - their story seems genuine, but something feels off...

Okie dokie my boyfriend picked Valljan as the character to answer this with!

Only issue with this is uh. Valljan shares a lot of character traits with old Kratos from the God of War series, and y'know male Viera wood wardens end up seeming very spartan. All of this is to say, his response is not as interesting as the others.

"No."

And off he goes.