#they are VICTORY. that is their whole THING

[yeyinde]

now why would you hide these in the tags..

also thinking maybe reader is newcomer too, maybe on vacation. everyone knows not to mess with price, say things about it never ending well.

but reader pays them no mind, thinking that their overreacting. of course, they aren’t, and reader is forced to check out of their hotel and into their new forever home with price <3.

and he's your first experience with an alpha, too. like sheltered reader, surrounded by betas your whole, stumbling onto John Price, of all people. but of course you're curious. you've never met an alpha before outside of the ones in your school - all the same age, the same hormonal shifts at the same pace; it's just not the same, is it?

and despite the tug between you, he can see where this going when you start batting your eyes at him, and softening under the burn of his glare. you're not going to like it. you'd never be able to handle him. and he tries to tell you this. warn you away. find a beta, a smaller, younger alpha. he doesn't care - just stay the hell away from him.

but you've been doted on your whole life and English Burt Reynolds isn't going to be the first man to tell you no.

so you push. prod. dig a little deeper. lay it on thick until his presence, a novice in your life, triggers the first stirrings of a real heat. forced proximity. freak storm. one bed. he breaks before dawn, but before you can even start to feel triumph, the reality of getting fucked by an older, more experienced alpha rears.

maybe you realise this when he pulls his fat, angry looking cock out, and barks at you to get back on the bed because he hasn't even started yet, and if you wanna strut around town, aching for his knot, well. he'll give it to you.

problem is: he's too big. too rough. you've been treating yourself like fine silk, something precious, and what he gives you (after growling at your pussy that he can't wait to break her in) is nothing at all like you were expecting. and this idea of a heat making you malleable, soft and ready, falls to pieces when you remember that anatomy isn't magic and no amount of fever in your blood will ever soothe the ache of him eating you up like a man starved.

but hey. you got the big, surly alpha in the end, didn't you? guess no one taught you the meaning of a pyrrhic victory.

[fishmech]

In the Ender's Game short story, the original work, there is no mention at all of whether he was drafted or volunteered by his family. However we are told that he is unfamiliar with the outside world in general, that his earliest memories are of being in the military schools training at basic war games as apparently a toddler.

And against this the short story takes care to mention that most children aren't going to these schools, via the adults in the story discussing how the other kids get to hang out in the park.

for example this passage towards the middle:

Ender Wiggins was rushed from place to place so quickly he had no time to examine anything. But he did see trees for the first time. He saw men who were not in uniform. He saw women. He saw strange animals that didn't speak, but that followed docilely behind women and small children. He saw suitcases and conveyor belts and signs that said words he had never heard of. He would have asked someone what the words meant, except that purpose and authority surrounded him in the persons of four very high officers who never spoke to each other and never spoke to him. Ender Wiggins was a stranger to the world he was being trained to save. He did not remember ever leaving Battle School before. His earliest memories were of childish war games under the direction of a teacher, of meals with other boys in the gray and green uniforms of the armed forces of his world. He did not know that the gray represented the sky and the green represented the great forests of his planet. All he knew of the world was from vague references to "outside."

and really who gives a shit about what the old homophobe changed when he decided to spackle a bunch of other shit onto the short story to start a practically unrelated novel series with it as the hook? the short story is the essence of the point and in it the intentions are clear - recruiting for the military in this case starts so early that of course none of the participants made the choice knowingly. there doesn't even appear to be a way for the children who do poorly once in the military schooling to leave it, we can presume those who do poorly are simply going to be funneled into less important military roles but presuming is all we can do.

ender's unknowing victory immediately ends the purpose of the whole military program, and clearly there's going to need to be some kind of other thing to handle these children only raised for military shit being reintegrated to a civilian society, but we are very deliberately not shown this, it is outside the purpose of the story.

but also starship troopers the book takes a lot of care to say that there's a bunch of civilian citizenship service positions. this is for a very clear reason: heinlein himself had to be disabilitied out of the Navy before WWII, couldn't get back into military service for it, and so was very very proud of his civilian service to the government during WWII. and he also was way more interested in talking about the military side because he was desperate to get to go to war again in WWII but couldn't.

and that's part of why the movie version makes sure to mention the civilian path exists here, but that certain characters refused to do either method, and then jumps into the enthusiasm of following the military path, that's what the story in both forms is much more interested in!

anyone contrasted Starship Troopers (movie) with Ender's Game (movie) in the way that they both involve teenagers being drafted by a fascist state into genocidal war against aliens?

[o-batll3]

Can I request a laia codina or Kiera walsh fic please 🫶🏻 maybe one where her and reader are friends but they get drunk and sleep together and things are weird for a bit till they decide to keep things casual, no feelings. And at the end can they realise that they have feelings for eachother and get together. Maybe their team helps push them to realise

a night to remember - l.codina x reader

warnings : none, little suggestive

masterlist

you and laia codina have been best friends ever since you both joined arsenal. training together, traveling for matches, and late-night conversations over cups of tea—a bond neither of you had expected to form so quickly. over time, you became inseparable, the kind of friends who knew each other’s thoughts without speaking a word. and tonight, the team’s big victory against a rival club meant the whole squad was out celebrating at a local bar.

the atmosphere is electric; the team is laughing, drinking, and dancing. you’re already a few drinks in when laia challenges you to a tequila shot contest, and there’s no way you can back down.

“alright, y/n, let’s see what you’ve got,” she teases, eyes glinting mischievously as she lines up the glasses.

you smirk, feeling the warmth of the alcohol making you bold. “oh, you’re on, codina. don’t cry when you lose.”

the contest quickly escalates, and before long, both of you are laughing so hard you can barely stay on the barstools. shots blur together, and the world gets hazy around the edges. eventually, the two of you stumble outside, leaning on each other, sharing breathless laughs and struggling to stay upright.

“you know,” laia slurs, “you’re... you’re not half bad, y/n.”

you roll your eyes, the night spinning slightly as you look at her. “and you’re... you’re trouble.”

she raises an eyebrow, grinning in that way that always makes your heart beat a little faster. “oh yeah? prove it.”

before you realize what you’re doing, you’re pulling her in by the collar of her jacket, your lips crashing together. she responds instantly, her arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. the kiss is messy, all heat and urgency, and it feels like a line you’ve just crossed, one that you can’t come back from.

you both break apart, breathing hard, foreheads touching. the world is spinning, and her eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, pupils wide with alcohol and something else you don’t dare name.

“my place,” she whispers, voice rough, and you don’t hesitate to nod.

you wake up with a throbbing headache and the weight of an arm draped over your waist. for a moment, you don’t move, confusion and disbelief mingling in your mind. then realization hits: laia. last night. the kiss. the heat of her body against yours. you turn your head slowly and see her, still asleep, hair a mess across the pillow. she looks peaceful, content, and for a second, you think about just staying like this.

but panic sets in. carefully, you slip out from under her arm, grab your clothes, and make your way to the bathroom. you stare at yourself in the mirror, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, and you can’t believe what happened. what you let happen. it was a mistake, right? just a drunken slip-up. you can’t afford to make things weird with laia, not when she’s your best friend and your teammate.

when you step back into the room, she’s stirring, rubbing her eyes with a lazy smile. “hey,” she says softly, voice still rough with sleep.

“hey,” you reply, forcing a casual tone. “i, um, should probably get going. early training tomorrow and all.”

her smile falters just a little, but she nods. “yeah... yeah, of course. see you there.”

you grab your things and leave, heart racing as you practically run out of her apartment, trying to push away the memory of her lips on yours, the feel of her skin under your fingertips.

things are weird after that. not awful, just... different. at training, you catch her glancing at you when she thinks you’re not looking. when you joke around with her like you always do, it feels forced. she’s still laia, and you’re still you, but there’s a tension now, something unspoken hanging in the air. you keep telling yourself it’s fine, that it’ll blow over, but every time you’re near her, all you can think about is that night.

the team notices too. they’re not stupid—especially not the older players, who exchange knowing looks every time you and laia fumble a pass or seem a little too stiff during drills. it doesn’t help that you’re both quieter in the locker room, that the easy banter you used to have has been replaced by careful, measured words.

finally, one evening after training, you find laia waiting for you outside the locker room. she looks nervous, chewing her lip in that way she does when she’s thinking hard about something.

“we need to talk,” she says, and your stomach twists with both relief and dread.

“yeah,” you agree. “we do.”

you walk together to a quiet corner of the training grounds, the evening air cool against your skin. she crosses her arms, looking everywhere but at you. “look, y/n, about that night... i don’t want things to be weird between us.”

you nod, trying to ignore the ache in your chest. “me neither. it was... i mean, we were both drunk. it didn’t mean anything.”

she nods quickly, almost too quickly, and something flashes in her eyes that you can’t quite read. “yeah. exactly. it didn’t mean anything. so... we’re good?”

“we’re good,” you say, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack your face.

things go back to normal, sort of. the tension fades, but it’s still there, simmering just beneath the surface. a few weeks pass, and one night, after another win, you and laia find yourselves back at her place, a few drinks in, the unspoken promise of that first night hanging heavy in the air.

she’s the one who brings it up this time, voice hesitant. “maybe... maybe we could keep it casual. no feelings, no strings. just... fun.”

your heart skips a beat, but you nod. “yeah. no strings.”

and so it begins. late nights at her apartment after matches, stolen kisses in the backseat of the team bus when no one’s watching, and quiet mornings tangled in sheets. you tell yourselves it’s just physical, that there’s nothing deeper there. but each time you leave, you feel a little more hollow, like you’re leaving a part of yourself behind.

it takes a few months for the team to finally step in. you don’t know who starts it, but one by one, your teammates begin to push. viv gives you a knowing smile every time you sit next to laia on the bus. beth corners you in the locker room after training and says, “you know she likes you, right?”

“we’re just friends,” you insist, but even you don’t believe it anymore.

then, during a particularly tense training session, kim pulls both you and laia aside. “whatever’s going on with you two, sort it out,” she says firmly. “it’s affecting your game. and we need you both at your best.”

you and laia exchange a look, and there’s a silent agreement in her eyes. something has to change.

it’s after a hard-fought match, and the adrenaline is still pumping when you find laia alone in the locker room, staring at her phone like it holds the answers to all her problems. without thinking, you cross the room and pull her into a kiss. it’s slow this time, gentle, and when you pull back, she’s staring at you with wide, shocked eyes.

“this isn’t just casual for me,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “i think i’ve been lying to myself about that for a while.”

her breath catches, and for a moment, you’re sure she’s going to walk away, but then she’s pulling you back in, her arms tight around your neck, and you can feel the answer in the way she kisses you back. this time, it’s not rushed or desperate. it’s a promise. the way she pulls you hair back whilst whispering sweet nothings and praises has your mind spiralling.

things are different after that. you’re not hiding anymore, and your teammates don’t bother to hide their satisfaction either, cheering and teasing when you and laia walk into training hand-in-hand. the tension is gone, replaced with something steadier, something real.

[professoruber]

Arcane Season 2 Act 3 Spoilers

Vi deserves better.

And her death being the cause of the alternate almost-perfect timeline was… kinda maybe a bit much?

I get that it was less a case of “Vi dying made everything better” and more so a case of “Undercity child dying caused enough of a scandal to force Piltover to care about the Undercity” but still.

Vi’s life has been non-stop suffering. She has constantly tried and tried to save and protect those she loves and has time again failed horribly.

By the end of the series she lost her birth parents, her adoptive father, her adoptive brothers, her adoptive father (again), and finally her sister.

And even if Jinx possibly survived, it’s unlikely the sister swill reunite anyone soon and so Vi will have to live with assuming her sister is dead. Plus with the guilt of Jinx having died saving her because she couldn’t leave behind Vander. Plus it was Ekko who convinced Jinx to keep living.

So the whole alternate timeline where she dies and everyone is great just feels like kinda punch in the gut on top of the sheer level of suffering she endures despite her good intentions and desire to just protect those she cares for.

Arguably made kinda worse by how the living Vi of the main Arcane timeline doesn’t really contribute overly significantly to the final battle against the Noxians and Viktor?

It was Mel and Caitlyn who had the final fight with Ambessa. Ekko of course saved Everyoje with the Z-Drive when Viktor was on the cusps of victory. Jayce was able to convince Viktor to stop. Jinx’s aerial rescue with mini-gun also probably took out more Noxians than Vi.

Not to say Vi didn’t contribute at all, of course. She still definitely held her own and fought a good fight. But still feels kinda crappy to have the whole good alternate timeline with Vi dead and then not give main Vi bigger moments to succeed and make positive changes.

Anyway my feelings are still fresh so I’ll probably mull over them and reflect on the season more as time goes on. Did really like it overall I think though,

But still though; Vi really deserved so much better.

At least she and Caitlyn mended things and seem happy together at the end, and so together they can hopefully grow and heal.

[algrimthestrong]

Lips twitching into a knowing grin as Mal reverted to using Aednan's title, the prince could not quite conceal his amusement at the other man's slip-up. Hearing Mall call him by his name had an intimacy to it that made him feel special and appreciated beyond the gold and gifts. Aednan's delight grew even more when Mal looped his arm through his. It seemed that Mal had thrown any and all concerns about being seen with him overboard – and they had only known each other for a day! Having Mal on his arm for everyone to see was an achievement Aednan savoured unabashedly. He had been convinced all along that he would be able to win the florist over, but rarely had victory tasted as sweet. Divesting Mal of his prejudices and winning his way into his good graces felt more substantial and rewarding than any of his previous conquests had, perhaps because Mal was the first to ever push him into investing a modicum of effort and patience into a dalliance?

The bakery Mal took him to turned out to be small but charming (like most things in Roseweald, including Mal), and Aednan took a moment to survey the mouth-watering selection of freshly baked breads, cakes, and pastries on display. Having been prepared to cover all expenses for their second day together, Aednan was taken by surprise at Mal's offer. "I did work hard," he agreed, his eyes sparkling at the recognition he received for his efforts. It felt wonderful to have their roles reversed for a change. As much as the prince enjoyed treating his companion, it was sweet to receive the same attentiveness in return.

"I'd like one of these." Aednan nodded at the tray of buttery croissants that had just been brought out of the oven. "And we could share one of those cakes?" He pointed at an airy, dome-shaped pastry with a thick layer of cream slathered between its two halves. "I am quite partial to cakes," he explained, leaning down towards Mal as if imparting a secret. "You should see all the desserts our kitchen whips up for breakfast." The daily breakfast spread for the royal family and their inner circle could easily feed Mal's whole village. "Where do you usually spend your breaks?" Aednan queried as they left the bakery with their purchases. "Are you going to take me somewhere nice for our lunchtime rendezvous?"

Aednan seemed just full to the brim with charm today, and determined not to inflate the prince’s ego too much with how thoughtful (and disarming) his gifts had been, Mal quickly forced himself to recover from that strange moment of vulnerability, huffing out a chuckle at the other man’s compliment; all the charm and flattery was at least slightly easier to weather, and Aednan’s talk of the flowers he had given him to grow was something of a welcome distraction. “I’ll be sure to pick your brain, should I need it.” He hummed, a small smile still playing at the corners of his lips as he slipped his takings for the day so far into his satchel and readying himself for a much deserved break.

“Whatever his highness prefers.” The florist teased, realising belatedly that in his moment of gratitude he had even forgotten Aednan’s playful nickname — no wonder he’d looked so pleased with himself. Promptly deciding that there was no use in playing coy and distant now that seemingly half the village had seen them together, Mal took the prince’s arm and as they strolled steered him in the direction of the village bakery.

As they arrived there was already a tantalising waft of fresh bread in the air, warm and inviting, the bakery itself filled with a lovingly prepared array of delights, from poppyseed loaves and small pies stuffed with local game, to muffins and sourdough rolls gold and glistening with butter and a delicate garnish of parsley. It was a place that Mal frequented fairly often, mostly on account of its convenience, and it seemed as if they had arrived just as more delicacies were being put out. It was hard not to salivate at the sight of a tray of flaky, freshly baked croissants, though first the florist snuck a glance in Aednan’s direction.

“What do you fancy?” He queried. “It’ll be my treat, seeing as you worked so hard this morning.”

[idontlikeem]

hi! i'd like to talk about losing. you don't have to read this if you don't want to, but i wanted to write it, and guess what, it's my blog. i just like this team a lot and i'm feeling a little maudlin about my guys and a little sick to fucking death of the shit i'm seeing all over kingdom come from 'fans'. so here we are.

So You Became A Fan Of A Living Legend But The Hockey Team Is Bad: a commentary.

look. this is not the most fun i've ever had watching hockey, and i'm quite sure a lot of people feel the same way. the penguins are bad this season! they were bad last season too, but there's something very special about the extent to which they are shit right now. and those are not fun games to watch.

but here's the thing: who cares.

like, idk. there's so much god damn negativity surrounding this team and its performance right now, and i'm guilty of contributing to it as well, because yeah of course i'd rather watch a team win in decisive fashion most nights. of course i'd rather dream about may and june and the stanley cup. of course i want to watch that happen again for my favorite players. like, duh.

but. it's probably not going to. not if these players get what they want, which is to play together on this team until they're ready to retire.

and you know what? that's fine. if they're fine with it, who on earth am i to not be?

i think we all have the same reaction when we see idiots online saying things like 'sid doesn't deserve this trade him to a contender'. and that's because we are smarter and more refined fans who understand that what sidney crosby DESERVES is to select how and where and when his career ends. is it on a team that sucks? then that means being here is more important to him than getting that fourth cup. staying with geno and kris and the penguins as a whole, never putting on another NHL logo, is more significant to him personally than another victory. and isn't that special? isn't that worth celebrating?

of course we know all of that because we're better at being fans than the uncles online who are writing weird fanfic in their heads. but. guess what that comes with:

losing.

and losing badly, in the case of this season.

i am here to tell you that sitting and bitching about it helps no one. right now, what we have to watch and celebrate is our favorite players still playing at a high level. they're still doing cool stuff on the ice. and they're doing it TOGETHER. this is what they wanted. so your options are either to hate it and sit in negativity about it each and every game, OR readjust your mindset and learn to enjoy what we have while we have it.

we are watching myth-making happen live. we are watching living legends play hockey. this is a privilege and an honor and it's not something most fanbases get EVER. and we have two! can you believe it?

there are things i would have rather seen done differently over the last couple of years. as far back as 2019 there were moves i disagreed with and changes that could have been made that perhaps could have extended their window. and of course the 2022 series against the rangers, that was a very good team that got hit by injuries at the absolute worst possible time, and probably that was their last chance as a core to compete. it's frustrating to watch that stuff happen when you have no control over it.

the pittsburgh penguins were high-end competitors and contenders for seventeen years straight. that's insane and unheard of in this league. they're not anymore. and the price you pay for almost two decades of dominance is...being bad. when you're competing you trade prospects and draft picks for win-now players. sometimes those work out, most of the time they don't. with the amount of winning this team has done, even the trades that didn't work were worth it, because it meant they were trying.

there are no fanbases who are going to feel bad for penguins fans right now. that's also why we're getting so much attention from the national media. people aren't used to this team being as bad as it is, and people like watching downfalls. that's fine. most of those fans have never watched their team win, and most of them never will. so if their joy is coming from sidney crosby's team being bad....well, love and light, you know?

and we shouldn't feel bad for ourselves either. this is what happens. this is how it goes. this is the price for the band staying together.

i dunno, guys. this is a disjointed rant. it's just so effing hard to be kicked in the nuts everywhere you go with unrelenting negativity. it's on twitter it's in the articles and yes, it's here too. but if you can't be a fan of a team when they're bad, then i'm sorry but you're not a fan of the team (or certain players), you're a fan of winning. and NO team wins all the time every year. that's not how sports work.

we are lucky. at least, i feel lucky! don't you? gosh, sidney crosby scored his 600th career goal tonight. evgeni malkin is over 500 goals on his career. can you believe that? it's amazing to watch.

and it's going to be over in less than two years. do we really want to waste it by wishcasting something that's not going to happen instead of enjoying what we DO have?

if the media bums you out, don't listen. don't read the articles. don't go on twitter. dry your tears on the stanley cup banners that sid and geno hung up—there are three to choose from!

[730architect]

picture your face - L4B (1.1)

first real tumblr post um hi?? anyways i posted this fic on ao3 last month and it did pretty well so i decided to post it on here as well! so hi if you know me from there or from twt :)

── •✧• ──

wc: 2.4k

tags: liv4brutality, masturbation, hatred, conflicted feelings, liv lowkey hates dominik (yay), callbacks to l4b (2022), liv is still hopelessly in love with rhea but we knew this, light heterosexual couple jumpscares sorry....

── •✧• ──

I had to go into the other room, she sent me something and I can’t think about anything else…

Liv walked confidently to the back after successfully winning a dark match on tonight’s SmackDown, a match she had won with ease. Ease, which really meant continuous interference from her boyfriend, Dominik Mysterio. She cradled her precious championship in her arms as she pointed and laughed in the faces of the fans booing her on her way out. She was on top of the world and there was no woman on the entire roster, on the entire planet for that matter, who could knock her off of her pedestal.

Each victory was sweeter than the last, further cementing her as the greatest women’s world champion of all time, as she so eloquently called herself. She and Dominik were all smiles as they walked through the curtain arm in arm celebrating the champion’s win. However Liv’s smile faded quickly the second they made it back to gorilla, dropping her hand from his.

“You okay, mi güerita?” Dominik asks, immediately noticing her instant lack of affection which had caught him off guard.

“Fine, just a little tired.” Liv replies with a strained smile, attempting to save face. Dominik returned her smile with a bright one of his own, oblivious to her strange behavior.

The truth was, dating Dominik wasn’t all she had imagined it would be. Sure, in the beginning it was sort of fun. But that was due to the fact that Liv had finally gotten the ultimate revenge on the woman who had ruined her life while the whole world watched. She did exactly what she vowed she would do: take everything from Rhea Ripley until she was left with nothing but her shitty shoulder and her own misery.

Unfortunately for Liv, it was obvious that Dominik liked her far more than she liked him; which she took full responsibility for. Her conversations with Finn always seemed to be over the same matter: her true intentions with Dominik. She was not at all prepared for how needy and affectionate Dom would be, both in private and in public. He constantly needed her attention for even the littlest things.

“Hey Liv, should I wear my white or purple boots for my match later?”

“Liv, do you think I look jacked in this picture?”

His constant neediness was enough to drive any woman insane, Liv was amazed that Rhea was able to stay with him for so long. She couldn’t help but discreetly roll her eyes whenever he called her name before putting on a sickeningly sweet smile paired with a skip in her step as she made her way to him. Why did she feel this way?

She and Dominik are back in their shared hotel room after the show. She finds herself trapped in his arms yet again in bed as he mindlessly scrolls through the TV channels. Liv gets up from the bed, tossing Dominik’s tattooed arm off of her and ignoring his audible confusion, mumbling something along the lines of, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Picture your face, I wanna touch you but you’re too far away…

Liv locks herself in the bathroom and surveys her surroundings, mind still racing. Her eyes land on the large bathtub and decides a bath would help clear her head. She empties the pockets of her shorts and runs the bath water to her desired temperature while she pours soap into the tub, allowing it to form bubbles as she undresses. She tosses her clothes into a pile in the corner of the bathroom and ties her blonde hair up into a lazy bun at the top of her head, then climbing into the warm and welcoming water as bubbles swirled around her. Liv allows herself to sink down, down, down into the tub until only her head breaks the surface of the foamy water.

She tries to dilute her stress but Rhea continues to ravage her thoughts relentlessly, refusing to provide her with even a second of relief. Liv finds her mind drifting back to 2022, when she and Rhea were tag team partners and the best of friends. How Rhea treated her like the only girl in the world, how she picked her up with ease in ways that Dominik could only dream of. Liv feels a pang in her heart as she relives each sweet memory she and Rhea shared together on their quest for tag team gold. Her wet fingers rise and ghost over her lips where she swears she can still taste the sweetness of Rhea’s cheek that she would kiss after every win or loss. No matter what, they had each other. Until they didn’t.

And maybe Liv was naive for thinking that they would last forever, but how could she not when Rhea treated her like the only girl she would ever have eyes for for as long as she lived? Sometimes she thinks about what their lives would be like if Rhea had never turned her back on her. Would they still be tag team partners or would they have split on good terms? Would they be champions together like they once dreamed? The constant state of wonder she repeatedly finds herself in leaves her head pounding. They once looked at each other with such tenderness but now every glance is filled with pure malice.

Know I shouldn't need it but I want affection, know I shouldn't want it but I need attention

She hears a familiar snore come from the other room and immediately recognizes it as Dominik, which only seems to piss her off even more. Liv’s mind shifts once again, thinking about how her stomach would jolt whenever her eyes met Rhea’s as she stared her down, blue eyes morphing into angry slits every time Rhea saw her. Liv would try and put on a hardened expression of her own but to no avail. She just couldn’t ignore the heat that pooled in the pit of her stomach every time Rhea was near. Her breath on the back of Liv’s neck every time she pinned her down to the mat, seething over how much she fucking hated her. And by god did it turn her on.

Her nimble fingers begin to trail down her still-immersed body, fantasizing about how roughly Rhea would grab her, practically throwing her around like a rag doll if she really wanted to. How her sharp canines would flash through her snarl every time she had Liv backed into a corner. She found herself dismissing the wet spots in her underwear after every interaction with her or even after just stumbling across a post of hers on social media.

Liv grabs her phone from the side of the tub and opens Instagram, switching between accounts. Her wet fingers slowly find the search bar and tap on the last and only searched profile: Rhea’s. Liv couldn’t risk making a wrong move and tapping something she wasn’t meant to on accident, which would end up being the most embarrassing thing that could ever happen to her. She looks through Rhea’s profile for a couple seconds, nearly missing her latest post.

It was a mirror picture taken at the gym, nothing Rhea hasn’t posted about a million times before. But this one nearly had Liv’s world crumbling around her. It wasn’t the photo that mattered, despite how good she looked in it. Muscles bulging and glistening with a light sheen of sweat after what Liv assumed to be an intense arm-day workout. Black tattoo ink decorated her skin, wrapping themselves around her arms and fingers as she held her phone in one hand and flexed the other. But it was the caption that truly caught Liv’s attention.

“rhearipley_wwe watch me 👁️‍🗨️”

Liv sat up straight in the bathtub, nearly spilling water onto the bathroom floor with the speed she moved at. She waits for the anger to hit her but it never does. Instead it’s that same familiar throb in her core which she’s sure is coated in slick and not because of the water she’s sitting in. She stops for a moment to listen to her surroundings, relieved when she still hears Dom’s obnoxious snores through the locked door. She sinks back down into the tub, still staring at the photo, eyes drooping slightly with lust. Her fingers trace incoherent shapes onto the soft skin of her thighs as she separates them, exposing her cunt to her digits. She glides her index finger over her opening, almost slipping it inside due to how wet she is. Rhea may be obsessed but Liv was nothing short of infatuated by her.

Now I'm picturing you and you're touching yourself…

Her fingers slowly begin to circle her clit, spreading her slick over the puffy pearl. Liv sighs softly to herself, eyes fluttering shut for a split second before opening again to marvel at the photo. The caption itself almost seems like a teasing invitation in its own right, enticing Liv to slip a finger inside of herself, quickly replacing one with two and imagining it was Rhea’s inked ones instead. Water sloshed around due to her movements as her back arched slightly off the back of the tub she leaned on. “Shit… Rhea…” she whispers to herself through parted lips, Rhea’s name slipping past them like a prayer. Like she’s repenting, begging some sort of divine power for forgiveness for what she’s done as she does it.

Liv never slows the relentless piston of her fingers, going in and out of her weeping hole. The heel of her palm hits her clit with every thrust at the perfect angle, making her brain short circuit with every motion.

A memory from years ago plays in her mind like a technicolor movie. Liv had made her way to the locker room, calling out Rhea’s name as she glanced left and right for her then partner until she saw her standing at the end of the locker room, back facing her.

“Hey Rhea, I was wondering if you wanted to grab some food before we head back to the hotel or something.” Liv chirped as she walked up to her partner, blissfully unaware that she was stripping herself of her ring gear. Rhea turns around to face Liv, her hands reaching behind her back to unclasp her bralette that made up the top half of her gear.

“Sounds good to me, love. What are you in the mood for?” Rhea asks with a toothy smile, thick accent slicing through the air.

She turns around once again and lets out a relieved sigh when she finally unfastens her top, allowing it to fall off of her and completely expose the top half of her body. Liv’s mouth drops open before she quickly regains her composure, trying her hardest not to gawk at her tag partner’s physique, now having half of it fully exposed to her.

Rhea had less tattoos back then, her body a little leaner as she's put on more muscle since. But regardless of how she looked, Liv always found herself pressing her thighs together whenever she saw her, searching desperately for even the smallest bit of friction to provide herself with some semblance of relief before she could tend to it herself. Rhea turns to the side as she throws on a t-shirt, allowing Liv to catch a glimpse of her plush tits and the piercings that adorned them; along with the massive gargoyle tattoo that sat right underneath. She didn’t feel worthy of seeing her like this, all exposed and vulnerable. She didn’t feel worthy of seeing her at all.

The fingers wrapped around her phone still displaying Rhea’s photo had begun to tremble due to the sensation, liking the photo accidentally in the process. Liv however paid no mind, how could she with how her heart hammered in her chest, blood pounding in her ears, drowning out the sounds of her breathy moans and pathetic whimpers as she imagined Rhea’s expression seeing her like this behind her rolled back eyes. Liv eventually drops her phone back down and paws at her breasts, rolling her nipples between her index finger and thumb as she continues the assault on her pussy with her other hand.

She feels pressure increase just below her pelvis, making the entire lower half of her body feel like it’s about to implode. She slows the speed of her fingers ever so slightly to be able to grind her hips down onto them, allowing them to hit even deeper inside of her which makes her head spin. She feels the pressure increase more and more until she pinches at her nipple right as her fingers curl up slightly inside her, hitting that spot that makes her see stars every time. Liv throws her head back and detonates like a bomb around her digits, Rhea’s face the only thing she could see behind her tightly closed eyelids.

“Rhea… oh my sweet girl, oh my god…” she wept to herself, only then realizing that a few tears had rolled down her face. She slowly pulls her fingers out of her cunt, whining at the sensitivity and emptiness she felt. Liv laps her fingers clean, moaning around them as she envisions they’re Rhea’s she’s sucking off rather than her own.

She lays back and takes some much needed deep breaths with her eyes closed, feeling her heart rate return to a normal speed. She opens her eyes to the sound of her phone going off, notifying her that she’s received a text message. Liv picks her phone up to check who it is only to almost drop it into the water when she does.

It’s an unsaved number she hasn’t texted in years, but the lack of caller ID doesn’t serve any purpose considering it’s the only phone number besides hers that she knows by heart. With shaking fingers, she taps on the notification, opening the messages app. The text contains a single screenshot of someone’s instagram notifications. She taps on it and reads “yaonlylivvonce and 82,385 others liked your photo”.

You’re fucking kidding.

The photo in question is the post of Rhea that Liv had just spent the last half hour jerking it to. She’s stuck, frozen in shock as the now lukewarm water stills around her. She’s snapped out of her trance with another text notification, this time it’s a short sentence.

“I guess you really were watching me”

Shit.

[acerathia]

pink camellias || Chapter 7: nasturtium

Chapter Summary:

nasturtium: patriotism, conquest, victory in battle

Wordcount: 5.0k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

Tags/CW:

royalty au, inspired by Mulan, war and its consequences, violence, childhood friends to strangers to companions to lovers (i am sorry), Angst, Acts of Service, Character Death (Major, and Minor), swordfights, misogyny, f!reader, kidnapping, implied torture, let me know if I missed anything lol

Note:

my class started late, so here

A splitting headache was the first thing you felt after waking up, followed by the dry feeling in your mouth, your tongue sticking weirdly between your teeth. You swallowed a couple of times to relieve this feeling. While repeating that action, you began to feel your body and its constitution. It seemed like you were tied to a chair, your arms flat against its arms, no movement possible, and you felt some sort of rope on each wrist and one across your upper body and arms. You assumed your ankles had been bound the same way to the legs of the chair. It didn’t feel like you had a gag or blindfold, and you also didn’t register any new injuries. At least you didn’t think so. Only after this silent check did you dare to slowly open your eyes, cracking one slightly to see if someone was present in the room.

There was someone, but you could barely see their figure without making any noticeable movements. So, your gaze wandered back to yourself, swiftly checking if all your clothes were still in their place. And you almost let a breath out when everything seemed to be fine, beside the weird tingling all over your body, but you assumed it was a side effect of whatever they gave you and the ropes cutting off your bloodstream.

Slowly, you let a finger rub against the arm of the chair, trying to see what material it was made of. Wood. Still, you could not do anything before confirming that the whole chair is actually made of wood. So, you collected yourself, trying to remember what the Captain told you what to do in such situations. And for a moment you were thankful for his training, because if he didn’t pound these plans into their heads for such a prolonged time, you already would have woken up in a fit of curses and screams, scared out of your mind. To be fair, you still were scared out of your mind, but in this version of the story you knew what you were supposed to do, and that didn’t necessarily make you calmer, but at least steadfaster.

With his instructions playing in your mind, you could almost hear the way he had explained every step with a slight annoyance tinting his voice, yet he kept repeating himself despite the so-called stupid questions. You took a breath out of your nose, cinching your brows to frown before groaning softly. Shifting in your seat, you rolled your head so it hung back. Then you made the act of slowly blinking awake, jolting your arm to rub your eyes or face, didn’t matter, really, before shuddering as your jerking grew seemingly more erratic with the second. Your head swiveled around with your eyes wide open, until you finally made eye contact with whoever had been occupying the room with you.

And this time, the shudder and the catch of breath were real as you perceived the colors of his clothes. A dark shade of blue. The color of the other side, of the enemy. You already knew that, but this was your confirmation. Your gaze traveled further, over burn-marred skin, to the hooded eyes of your enemy, of one of your captors. And at first, his eyes seemed to be lazy, all indifference, but the longer you stared into their icy depth, the more the cold ruthlessness seemed to peek through.

You swallowed. “Damn it, let me go! What is this supposed to mean?” you raised your voice, infusing it with the fear you currently were suppressing.

“No can-do, sadly. And I’m not really in the mood to answer questions, if I’m going to be honest, so…” he shrugged and leaned further into the couch, all dangling arms and lethargic movements. But you noticed the precision in every move of his.

For a moment, you bit on your tongue, ruminating on the possible next steps. That was, until you realized that people underestimated you simply for being a woman, so why not using that to your advantage? Luckily, you still remembered how to act as if you’re still in court, and you doubt that these people could see behind that facade as easily as the aristocrats could.

So, you let your face crumble at his words, let your jaw slacken and your gaze take on the thousand-yard stare. And then slowly you sunk your head forward and let your breath sound a little bit irregular. With the last touch of slightly trembling shoulders, you presented him the helpless, scared maiden. The only thing left to do was wait for him to take the bait.

A scoff. “You can stop the charade, there’s no way you would be that close to the battlefield if you were that easily scared.”

All you did was lift your head to face him again, your bottom lip slightly wobbling as the tears collected in your tears. “Bu- But I truly do not know what to do with myself. I was never supposed…” your voice cracked and you sniffed before continuing. “I was never supposed to be there in the first place.”

He rolled his eyes at your words. “Whatever you say, in the end, it doesn’t really matter anyway,” he leaned his head against his hand while watching you with apathy and boredom. “You act like we don’t know anything, huh? Annoying if you ask me.”

He didn’t seem to believe this act, so his friends probably wouldn’t either. With this realization, you just dropped it, a little disappointed sneer on your face as you wiped the tears on your shoulders. All while holding eye contact with him. With a puff of air, you shifted slightly in your seat, looking for a way to sit comfortably.

For a moment you considered asking questions, trying to see if you would be able to get some proper answers or any hints about their plans. But you dismissed that thought, as the earlier instances showed that he wouldn’t talk in any circumstance about anything important. And maybe he didn’t even know a lot to begin with. That was something you couldn’t just expect. So, you had to look at the situation as if it was the worst possible one. That meant that he might just be a guard, without any usable knowledge, and that you had to expect the escape to be near impossible. You had to be prepared for everything. So, it was important for you to take your time with planning. Still, one thing you needed to know, even if you weren’t sure he would tell you in the first place.

“Alright. But do tell, did you manage to actually catch the Captain? I highly doubt that this feat lies within your abilities,” you snickered, hoping that the last statement was enough to rile him up for some kind of response.

A little snort escaped him as he glanced back at you. Yet, he said nothing, and nothing could be read from his facial expressions. You kept staring at him, trying to discern any reaction, anything that could hint at the whereabouts of the Captain. But you found nothing. So, like you had decided earlier, you had to assume the worst. Which would be him being captive in this strange place. Somewhere you could not even think about, much less access in your current state.

A sigh escaped you, and there was nothing you could do at the moment. It was too risky to immediately break out, especially considering you had no idea where you were, or why you were here in the first place. And worst of all, there was nothing you could do. You were bound to a chair, and the only person in this place wouldn’t even think of talking to you. You couldn’t even fall asleep, because you just woke up, and even if you did feel battered, there was a buzzing in your veins, too vibrating to allow you to even relax. So, you did what you could do best, you stared at the ceiling and got a bit lost in your thoughts, with just enough awareness to notice any change in your environment.

*-*

You had no idea how much time had passed until some people finally entered the room you were staying in. Your gaze passed each of them, no recognition hitting you, at least the younger girl seemed to be the one to have drugged you. At least until the last person entered, and you couldn’t hold in the gasp escaping you. You knew him. He was someone you had spent by his side the last months eating and fighting and talking. You both weren’t necessarily close, yet you had thought there was some sort of camaraderie, an almost friendship, or at least some respect across the troupe. Yet, with his appearance he rendered everything you thought to be true as naught. Devastation hit you in the chest at his sight, at his mocking grin towards you, and you felt a grimace pulling at your face, your body not able to properly determine what to feel and how to express it.

“Shit, that’s what you fucking deserve. A stupid woman doesn’t belong in a battlefield. You’re disgusting,” he grinned at you, his gaze traveling over your body, almost ecstatic at the way you had been bound to the chair.

For some reason, his words hit you deeper than you had anticipated. They were echoing what you had been hearing all your life, and it seemed like it would never matter how much effort you put in to change their minds, they would continue to think that way, that you were nothing but a woman, nothing but a nuisance.

Still, you tried to keep some form of dignity, as you straightened your face to the best of your abilities, your teeth biting into the insides of your cheeks. And you avoided looking directly at him, in fear of inciting another reaction out of you. Instead you cocked your head and directed your gaze to one of them, the one who had entered the room at first.

“So, what’s going to happen now?” you asked, swallowing slightly as you felt how your voice trembled at the end.

“Right now, you’re going to talk and tell us everything we want to know,” he answered with a croaking voice, his fingers scratching at his neck.

You raised your eyebrows, trying to delay this interrogation for a bit. “Oh? And why do you think that I know something? And don’t you have your little… lap dog anyway?”

Your breath hitched when you heard him cuss you out, yet he didn’t attack you outright, so he had to know nothing and have no power to his traitorous name.

“He has no idea about anything. But you–” he scoffed, taking a step closer to you, to stand directly in front of you. You barely noticed his hand before he already grabbed your chin, his fingers digging into your cheeks. “You’re closer to the Captain. There must be something you know. And honestly, if you don’t, you do make a compelling hostage.”

A grin spread over his face, his gums peeking, and you couldn’t help but think that he looked somewhat inhuman, terrifying. With a flick of his wrist, he released your face and signaled the others to step closer.

And for some reason, you weren’t terrified of them, afraid yes, your muscles spasming and your breathing painful, yet it was the same as on the battlefield. The only person you were terrified of, truly, was the man who had betrayed the group, the Captain, the country. In your view, he was unpredictable, you shook underneath his gaze, his words still echoing inside your brain. And you didn’t want him to step closer, yet you kept your mouth shut, didn’t allow yourself to reveal any possible weakness.

Oddly, you just hoped for the boss to take care of this, as you pinched your eyes close. In some way you trusted them a lot more. You couldn’t explain why. Maybe, there was some kind of respect in you, as one did after fighting each other for some time. And you sincerely hoped they felt the same in a tiny amount.

*-*

You had lost all sense of time. How long have you stayed in this room, with barely any food to sustain you for long? Despite just waking up, you felt tired, your bones aching and creaking with the small amount of movement you had been able to have. You were pretty sure it hadn’t been that long, but the pain in your body tried to tell you another story, and you had no idea if you passed out from it or simply because your body wanted to simulate a proper night's sleep.

No matter, you were tired, your eyes burning with each heavy blink. Yet, you had enough sense in you to notice how for once there was nobody in this room but you. They had never left you alone since you had arrived, and you started to give up. But now you had a chance to escape. Still, for a moment you contemplated if you should even try, exhaustion making your thoughts sluggier than necessary. You had no idea about your whereabouts, having failed at coercing anything out of the enemy, nothing but their own questions.

You pinched your eyebrows together, bringing the rest of your focus back, and in your mind you could almost hear the Captain yelling at you to ‘fucking focus!’. And for some reason that did it. Your thoughts were coherent enough for you to decide to at least try.

So, you let your gaze wander to the door, and you assumed, no, hoped, that they left it open, under the pretense that there was no way for you to get out of these knots and ropes holding you to the chair. And while that might be true, the ropes burning deep into your flesh, they seemed to have forgotten about the chair. One made out of wood.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly began to tip forward, readying your feet to catch you when the moment comes. And you managed to successfully catch yourself, albeit standing in an awkward squat.

You had to take another breath before moving on, because you knew that the next step was going to hurt. You sincerely hoped to get the right angle, as you had never had the need to execute this maneuver before. Closing your eyes, you jumped up, only to twist slightly back in the air, intending on falling in a way, which makes the chair simply break under your weight and the rudeness of it.

A crack and pain shooting up your hips. For a moment it seemed like it worked, but when you opened your eyes, you felt a gut punch as you realized the chair didn’t splinter to render you free, rather only a part broke.

Another shaky breath as you began to assess the citation, trying to peek behind you to see how the chair looks like. It seemed like only the joint keeping the seat and the back together had broken apart, giving you some flexibility, but not truly freeing you from your shackles. And you could easily free your legs and torso yourself, if only were your hands free.

So, your gaze jumped around the room, trying to look for something that might help you. But there was nothing but the walls, the small space empty and dusty. You hadn’t noticed how tiny your prison was, because of your immobility.

You began staring at the closest wall, trying to think of something. And then there was a possibility, perhaps the only one in your capabilities.

You brought your knees slowly to your chest, as much as the broken chair allowed you to, only to use them to push yourself across the floor, trying your best to inhale as little of the dust as possible. Every push took quite some time, yet the wall didn’t seem to get any closer. With every movement, you began to give up a little more, until your head bumped against a brick, in a way notifying you of your arrival.

Then you took a couple of shuffles to get the right angle. Once you had it, you began to twist your torso with speed, allowing yourself to smash one of the armrests against the wall. With every hit, the joints between it and the rest of the chair began to creak and crack. You had no idea how many times you smashed your arm against the wall, scratches and splinters digging deep into your skin at some point, yet you didn’t stop until the wood separated.

Even if you weren’t able to fully move your freed arm because a big piece of the armrest still clung to it, you now possessed enough range motion to reach over to your other arm and to dig your fingertips into the rope, trying to loosen the knots with brute force, before jamming them into the knots, opening them slowly but fully. Once that arm was truly free of the chair, you used its new freedom to get rid of the ropes around the other arm. You fully ignored the chafing and the pain radiating from it, as you focused on freeing up your torso and your legs, all while silently hoping that nobody entered while you were still opening up the last of the knots.

Breath caught in your throat, and you reached for your boot, for the weapon you had hidden during the confrontation. But all you felt there was your own skin and air. No sheath, no leather, nothing. For a moment you felt yourself choke on your own panic, as you slowly realized how vulnerable you were, have been. And how there was nothing for you to use. You didn’t even remember the last time you had no weapon on your body, every woman needed one, you needed one, right now, for the last weeks, for the rest of your life.

The person finally stepped into the room, and you scrambled back, your back hitting the wall, your hands scratching against the broken wood. And without thoughts or consideration you grabbed one piece, its point sharp from the impact earlier.

You licked your lips as your eyes stared at the point only to slowly shift towards the person standing in the door. And there was something inside of you zinging at the sight of this man, of this traitor, of someone standing above you, looking down on you. Your eyes shook as you slowly stood up, your back sliding over the wall. All while never breaking your gaze off of him. You couldn’t even tell if you were trembling, if you were holding the wooden piece correctly. All you did was stumble in his direction, your legs tingling due to the lack of use lately.

Finally, standing in front of him, but before he could grin, could say anything down to you, could tell on you, you swung the makeshift spear, the use of it akin to the use of a dagger as you let the sharp end dig into the soft flesh at his throat. He croaked surprised, the sounds coming out of him seemingly squashed. Blood trickled down. Soaking into the hem of his shirt, and you couldn’t help yourself but watch it spread.

With a jerk, a quelch you pulled the wood back to you, and now the blood began to bubble out of the wound. But he refused to weaken, still standing on his feet, still looking down on you. You wanted him to stop looking at you, wanted him to stop. So, you grabbed his head, bringing the point closer to it, getting rid of his annoying stare.

And finally, he fell to his knees, onto the ground with his face. His blood slowly tinting your shoes the same it had tainted the rest of your clothes, your skin.

It felt like you could finally breathe properly in this place, at least in this moment. So, you took a moment to enjoy this feeling of acquired freedom, before you grabbed his paling body to drag it into the room. You were aware that due to the blood on the floor, it won’t be long until they finally discover that something is amiss, even considering that they didn’t seem to care much about him. Before you left him to rot, you took away his weapons, and the disappointment choked you for a moment as you realized that he only had a dagger on his body, nothing else. Still, it had to be enough.

Closing the door behind you as you leave, you let your gaze swipe over everything, looking for any clue for the outside, and most importantly, for the Captain. There was nothing your sight picked up, so you decided to lick a rather clean finger and to hold it up, trying to discern if there was any wind blowing from any direction. There was a gentle breeze, one you barely noticed. That direction was the most likely one to be your way to freedom, yet you hesitated. You still didn’t know if the Captain had been captured also, he could be anywhere inside this place, and you were aware that you were purely lucky, there was no way they would even think of leaving him unattended.

You were torn, should you go look for him, or simply walk away to get help? Only, there was no guarantee that you would manage to reach the camp all alone or even be on time to get him help. You hated to admit it, but if he was stuck there, maybe you were his only chance at the moment. He would do the same for you, truly.

With one last glance to the side promising freedom, you slipped to the other side, keeping close to the wall and staying on your toes, dagger and wooden piece always in your hands. You kept peeking into every cell and room you encountered, but there was no one you recognized, all tattered clothes trembling in the corners or laying too silently. As much as you wanted to help, you knew that this lay beyond your capabilities at the moment. So, you continued sneaking around, looking for that still fierce stare of his.

And every time you encountered someone patrolling down the corridors, you waited until they turned their back to you to stab the dagger into their neck. And every time you cursed your lack of abilities in the manner of assassinations and the work of the shadows, as every movement of yours sounded incredibly loud and unnecessary. You couldn’t even get rid of anyone without any noise.

You dumped the bodies in the next best room, taking some weapons if available. At some point you felt like they made too much sound while you were trying to sneak around, so you had to drop some of them into an empty room. But for some reason, despite the amount of available weapons on your person, you didn’t let go of the wooden piece, its splinters digging deep into your skin.

After countless doors and cells, you began to give up. You should just turn around and escape, all by yourself. But you couldn’t, there was something inside your bones telling you to try one more cell, one more dark corner. And you rounded the next corner, only to stop when you spotted two guards in front of one single door. Nowhere else had you seen those stationed like this. There had to be someone important. You decided to look into that particular room, no matter who was inside, they probably needed help. At least, you would have tried to help someone in this ashen place.

Looking at the position of the guards, you doubted you could sneak close enough to them to attack them without retaliation. So, you grabbed one of the longer daggers to give you more reach, before sprinting towards them. They immediately noticed you and pulled their swords. And as much as you wished to hold one too, you were aware that the walls were too close for a proper sword, especially against two opponents. You just hoped they would accidentally start bothering each other with their limited reach.

You focused on the one slightly closer to you, your eyes looking for a weak spot with every step, and even if you didn’t find one immediately, you didn’t slow down. Rather you simply avoided the clumsy swing of the sword, as he tried to strike you down, before you rammed into him with the full force of your speed. He lost his balance, toppling over and you landed on top of him. Without delay, you grabbed the helmet of his and pushed away to plunge the blade into his now freed throat.

The blood flowed and you felt some sprinkle over your face. Wiping it away, you almost missed the movement behind you, as the other person swung their own blade towards you. You barely had any time to react as you tried to roll away, but the blade still grazed your thigh. A sharp pain burst in your flesh there, more than a simple graze warranted. It almost distracted you from the next upcoming attack and you had no other possibility but to hold your own, much smaller blade against theirs. Gravity supported them, as they tried to drive the sword into you.

As the sharp edge inched closer to your body, you jammed your foot into their lower body, trying to get them to lose their balance in any way as you continued to kick up. The blade was at such a small distance, your own blade started digging into your skin. It was over, your strength wasn’t enough to win this.

But before you could even think of letting go, a loud noise clattered from the closed door, startling you both, but that surprise was exactly what you needed, as their muscles loosened the tiniest bit. You grabbed another weapon from your clothes and stabbed its blade into their wrist holding the sword, hoping to have slashed some tendons. The reaction was immediate as he let go of the blade, letting it fall. You on the other hand didn’t react fast enough, and it grazed your ear and shoulder, feeling the blood slowly pooling underneath your head.

They were holding their wrist close to their chest, and you took the chance, grabbed their own sword to drive it into their chest cavity. Their blood splattered all over you before they fell onto the ground, twitching and huffing.

For a moment you allowed yourself to take a breather, laying between the two corpses as their blood soaked your clothes, sending shivers down your back.

A second crash and you flinched as you looked towards the door. Instead of saying something, you sat up, feeling the pain radiating from your thigh, and you knew that the injury there had opened up again. A sigh escaped you, and you ripped the seam of your tattered shirt to bind it over the wound once again. You hoped you could withstand the pain long enough, because it didn’t feel as bad as it did at first when you got stabbed there.

Another crash sounded and you slowly got annoyed by whoever was doing that.

“Okay, okay, Calm down.”

And it was silent after you said this, but you weren’t sure if they actually listened to you. Nonetheless you stood up and walked up to the door. On the way you pulled out a dagger before kneeling in front of the lock. You had no idea how to break a lock, but you assumed that if you jammed the tip of the blade with strong enough force it would break it.

You began to jam the blade into the sides of the lock, trying to get a reaction out of it. After some time, without any crashes from the inside to distract you, you finally heard some sort of clicking noise. Still, you didn’t dare take away the blade until you pushed the door open.

You didn’t know how to react to the insides of the cell. And for a moment the only thing moving was the piece of wood hitting the floor. There was joy pumping your heart, but also some embarrassment when you realized how bad you had to look. The Captain only frowned at your sight, before taking over as he walked past you.

“Looks like your head was hit,” he grumbled as he pointed towards the keys on the belt of one of the guards.

You felt hot, shame making it difficult to explain yourself. But before you could even try to reiterate, you felt a finger tipping your chin up, and you met his hot gaze, filled with fury. His finger traveled over your cheek to your cut ear. “I hope you paid this filth back a thousandfold…”

Something told you that if these two guards were alive, he would have shown them something worse than death. But you didn’t mind this, you just enjoyed the way your heart finally seemed to settle once you found him.

He let his hand fall away, some of your blood on his fingertips, and stepped away. You handed him some of the weapons you had collected before starting to tell him what way to go. But instead of letting you finish speaking he told you to take the lead. He obviously didn’t want to waste time, but you were glad to be trusted like that.

So, you walked down the same corridors you came from, they were still empty as you left them. Until you stopped in front of the room you had occupied. A glance in his direction told you to just continue walking. You did. This time, it took you both longer to find your way out, nothing indicating any sort of possible escape, especially the lack of guards. The halls were empty. And you had to admit that it worried you to not meet any resistance at all.

After some time, you finally stumbled across the exit, and you opened the door, ready for the onslaught of enemies. But what was across the threshold was more than you had anticipated.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Mission Parameters - 1/?

Written in conjuction with @bloodgulchblog's Touchstone way back last December when we both started throwing MillerChief (we can't keep calling it Milf) ideas around. Not quite ready to post in its entirety but I wanted to share a chunk for Potluck2024

To the dozens of you who now care about/ know who Miller is, thank you for playing in this space with us.

-

Spartans aren’t machines.

It’s a truth, a hard one that he’s having a difficult time internalizing. He understands on some level, but John’s never been one to include himself in any sort of kindness. Knowing something is one thing, believing it is harder. Especially when he wasn’t made to believe. He was made into a tool in order to spare others. He was made into a symbol to inspire them, to encourage more sacrifices that he thought they’d be spared from. They believe in him, even though he fails - even though he’s an imperfect paradox. He knows it is his burden to bear. John had not been happy to learn about the generations after him. Another bitter pill to swallow. Another truth; the UNSC, the UEG, and ONI would do everything in their power to maintain and grow their grip on survival and victory. That was a truth he knew and believed. He had had his part in that, in saving humanity he told himself, but now it was looking like that part may be over.

The IIIs surprised him, but they were familiar, having lived the majority of their lives as Spartans. They moved like Spartans, walked and talked like Spartans, were off-kilter amongst civilians like Spartans. The IVs were a different beast altogether- still Spartans, but with all the lived experiences of Helljumpers, SpecOps, and even some civilian types. Prodigies and geniuses. Spartans who chose to become a weapon-and-person. Ones who grew up hearing stories of him and decided they wanted it too- wanted to do their duty, not called upon to serve but vying for a chance to prove themselves or get even with the Covenant. Eager to become a number. Giving anything and everything to hit back.

It rankled some part of him that John tried his best not to listen to. The IIs did what had to be done. Wasn’t it supposed to stop with them? He wouldn’t wish the process on anyone, but the new hands jumped at the opportunity. They were still Spartans, but what did that mean now? Why were they still needed? And what was he supposed to do when he was outnumbered in a sea of the next model? Some of them were born after he’d put on the armor. Most of them had only ever known war, only ever seen humanity pushed to the brink. The ones he worked with were good people, but there was something sinister about the whole thing. They didn’t see him as an equal, he was a benchmark, a standard, and an unreachable one at that. The lucky one despite him hating that word. But the IVs didn’t know. He wasn’t a man or a tool to them. He was the Master Chief, the Spartan, the touchstone of the entire program-turned-branch. Their eyes glazed with propaganda and their words greased with blood. He wasn’t sure whose.

John didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. Recent events have had everyone worried about John. His team is worried. Commander Palmer and Captain Lasky are worried. Admiral Hood is worried, but at least John doesn’t have to look him in the eye as often as the others. He and Blue Team have been effectively grounded and put under close watch after disobeying orders. Everyone’s worried about the Master Chief and his insubordination. A handful are worried about John 117, but there’s one person still alive who’s worried about John in the most mundane of ways.

The babysitter. One Spartan Jared Miller. The guy on the radio telling them things they already know. Except that’s not true. Truthfully- again John had to acknowledge the truths staring him in the face- truthfully, having a handler had been… interesting. Blue Team had shared looks when they were told that they were going to test out handlers to see who’d be a good fit for them. The Blue Team, legends in the field who had been in active combat longer than most of their current peers had been alive. Getting a handler for them seemed like blasphemy. But having an eye in the sky watching their backs and giving them real time updates that didn’t cost them breaking cover or silence was…nice. Nice things didn’t happen to Blue Team. Spartans weren’t given support- they were the support. They were the boots on the ground and more often than not, the fodder that threw itself on the wheels to stop the war machine from devouring humanity. Now the tools were supposed to be people and have an entire network of handlers and techs and medical crew to care for and maintain them?

John had woken up to a changed galaxy.

Under orders Kelly-087, Fred-104, Linda-058, and John-117 ran drill after drill, exercise after exercise, and every simulation the War Games AI had with the few Spartan handlers stationed on the Infinity. That’s why John even knows Miller exists; Blue Team running the gamut of exercises with each Spartan mission handler to find the best fit. They don’t need one, never had, but what it meant to be a Spartan had changed while he was away. It’s still changing, growing around and past him. John isn’t entirely sure how he feels about it. Spartans existing and being promoted in the public eye, receiving preferential treatment, being looked after and support more than he’s ever known in his entire career. It was all so uncomfortable. John had thought he’d gotten used to being uncomfortable.

Spartans were evolving and he had to get with the times in order to not be left behind. More than that, John didn’t want to be a liability to his team. He just got them back and didn’t want to lose them again. A small dark part of him wonders if they would be better off without him. An aging Spartan who had run its course and should disappear quietly rather than drag out this misery in some kind of spectacle. John was tired of being an example.

John thought Miller was doing a good job, he just needed the confidence that came with experience. He was a fine handler for Blue Team after John had slipped his leash and gone off on his own, showing some unlikable non-Spartan characteristics. After Biko. Spartan IIs didn’t get grounded, but times had changed and there was a whole branch for them now. No more operating in shadows and being more myth than fact. The brass had been unhappy at the Master Chief going AWOL, Commander Palmer had been unhappy at them going against orders and making a mess for her, and Captain Lasky had been unhappy that John had decided to run away rather than deal with his failures. John was unhappy about that as well and it was why he was here, doing this.

A self-assigned mission, to figure out and help if he could.

Miller had a hard time not getting trapped in his own head. It's something John's seen in a lot of good soldiers over the years. Many good people he’s worked with struggle with shouldering the decisions they’ve made, the things they’ve seen.. John’s no exception. Miller's… just more obvious about it.

Miller pouts, he worries, he frets. It seems like anytime John looks at the man there's some kind of doubt clouding his face. Miller sticks out among the uniform sea of techsuits and buzz cuts because it’s the one un-Spartan thing the UNSC hasn’t seemed to iron out of him yet. He’s visibly nervous all the time. It's why John approached him.

Jared Miller seemed to be the one Spartan on the ship with more obvious problems than him. John wanted to find out why. Miller was a puzzle of anxiety, almost too tightly wound for a Spartan. But then John had seen him work, listened to him deliver intel and direct his own team. Spartan Miller was a fine handler, detail-oriented, mission-focused, and quick to respond to out-of-control scenarios. He just needed confidence both on and off comms, for his own good and the good of the fireteams under his leadership.

And John was going to help him. A handful of people had always told him he needed a hobby. John didn’t know what to do with himself, so he was focusing on someone else. It helped put things into perspective in a way. The IVs confused him, in some ways more than the civilian contractors and scientists that moved easily amongst the Spartans. More than the team of techs who insisted on his care and maintenance rather than letting him do what he’s always done. The entire culture of warships had shifted while he was asleep. John was a remnant of an older age haunting the new hires. There weren’t supposed to be Spartans after his class – his family. They had been called upon to serve-taken, to endure, so that there wouldn’t be a need anymore. So to quell the storm of thoughts he got anytime he left his quarters, John decided to study Miller. Fred said he was going to give the guy complexes, but John had thought about his time since waking up and running. He could learn, and maybe he could teach.

The fact that there were two generations of Spartans after the IIs weighed on John, but it was another thing he was going to have to learn to live with. The fact that there were 300 Spartan milling about on the Infinity was mind-boggling, and he would just have to adjust. With the ship now in drydock, many of the crew were taking the rare chance to stretch their legs and go planet-side. John was not. He was avoiding his team and avoiding the looks he got. He was having a harder time adjusting than he would ever care to admit, or even think. He was finding ways to keep moving even if Blue Team’s wings were clipped. John was entertaining something with the one person who was more anxious than him and who worried about John for the wrong reasons.

He needed to stop lying to himself. They weren’t the wrong reasons, but it was a novel sensation to have someone worry about his well-being in such a mundane way. Blue Team is worried John is going to work himself to death or snap, Command is worried about that too and doing damage control to whatever next mistake he makes. Miller is worried about John’s feelings while they dance around each other in this game of almost flirting and calling bluffs. It’s a game of chicken but with what John thinks are what normal stakes look like.

[therobotmonster]

The Kingdom of Tiger-Men

A very long time ago and a very far way away there was a small kingdom. Like all kingdoms it had a king, and like all kings he had all manner of lesser nobles and knights and other such important people at his service.

The kingdom, however, was not just like all the other kingdoms. It was small and peaceful and prosperous, but the cathedrals were modest and the borders had not moved in centuries.

The King and his nobles looked at the empires around them with envy, but there was little they could do about it. Until, that is, they had a visitor.

One day in autumn, there was a knock at the great castle door. Before the guards could give so much as a "Who goes there?", the doors flew open, splintering the crossbar and sending the guards to slam into opposite walls.

There, pleased as could be, was a demon, dressed head to toe in a fine silk suit and carrying an iron walking stick.

"What, Oh King, is the matter, that I may aid thee?" The demon sang.

"Why would you aid me at all." The King replied, though he did not order his knights to attack.

"For I was nursed by your grandmother in hell, and that makes us cousins." The demon replied i with a bow in her sing-song voice. "For I am a demon and you are royalty and we know our own."

"Half the things a demon tells you are true." Said the King. It was an adage his grandmother had told him once upon a time.

"And the other half are true as well, though I'd rather you not check." The demon sang back. "What troubles you, sire?"

"It is my people." The King said, warily. "When there are crops to bring in or barns to raise they do not tire but when I ask for monuments they are sluggards to the last one. They rise to defend our borders but are cowards when sent to expand them, and when asked for alms their pockets seem bottomless, but for splendor to impress our rivals they are always penniless."

"Oh, is that all?" The Demon replied. "That is but a trifling little thing, I shan't even lie for the rest of our meeting because of it."

The King could not believe his luck. He knew whipping his sluggish kingdom to action was no trifle. And wouldn't the demon assume he was impressed with her entrance and think any such action easy for her? She expected him to be a rube, not a learned regent. He knew the half-lie game and so she was changing it, to give him whole truths so he'd go mad dismissing half of them. But he was more clever than that.

"How?"

"I will awaken in them a nameless hunger, for which there is no sating. Their hunger will drive them to dance to your tune, and their loyalty to you will be absolute."

"I will accept, but you must not inflict this curse on my line or any of the ruling classes. We must of course see clearly."

"I hadn't planned on that, but you may have it."

And the demon was gone as quick as she came, if not quicker.

It took only weeks for the change to be in the air. Every man, woman and child felt a need, as strong as hunger or thirst yet with no obvious route to satisfy it. Soon the king had no difficulty pushing his people to invade their neighbors, for perhaps the needed thing was in those foreign lands? He had no difficulty getting them to build his monuments, for accolades could distract from the hunger for a time. They built him splendorous palaces in the hopes that the completion of the project or its momentary use would break the curse.

And the King and his priests and nobles dangled every form of bait to pull the people this way or that. Each day they got hungrier and hungrier, and that hunger made them powerful and violent. They were like tigers in the shapes of men, ever-devouring every form of meat and experience in the vain hope of feeling full.

Decades passed, and the small kingdom was now a medium empire. The Emperor's grandson returned from the front, two mighty tiger-men flanking him on either side. He was drunk with victory, having watched his nation's warriors tear apart the enemy with little resistance.

In his haste to embrace his grandfather, the young prince whipped off his bronze helmet and tossed it aside. The nose-guard cut his cheek, sending a splash of crimson across the face of one of his bodyguards.

He hadn't meant to. The bodyguard was a favored soldier, one of the few of his class able to walk among the upper crust. He would never have done something so unbecoming on purpose. Intention did not matter.

He tasted his young master's blood.

And he knew.

The Emperor was too horrified to scream when the tiger-man's teeth sank into his grandson's throat before him him. He could see the metaphor peeling away, and for the first time he saw the truth in its fangs and claw and fur. The smell and sight of it awoke the understanding in the other bodyguard and he too shed his metaphors for the literal.

The Prince tried to beg, but he could not tell the one that annoyed him from the one that he made warm him on the front through the pain and growling and the crunching of bones.

The knights, of course, sprang to their lords' defense, but they were not tiger-men and were barely more than ornamental to begin with. The Emperor fled to his bedroom and bolted the door behind him. All around him, he could hear the roars of tiger-men, and the screams of nobles in their jaws.

And at the window sat the demon, smiling as she looked over the city below.

"You tricked me!" The Emperor said. "Into tricking myself! The bargain was under false pretext! I demand you fix this!"

"I'd love to help you, but I didn't trick you."

The demon sat there, pointedly not helping, so the Emperor knew which part was the lie.

"There is something that sates the hunger, the loyalty isn't absolute, and you planned it all."

"Aw, you're a smart one." She sang. "And I can hardly be blamed. I gave you everything you wanted..."

The door splintered. The Emperor looked through the frame at his subjects, every last one of them a tiger.

"And no one ever eats the rich, literally."

[laylcsaxena]

Layla considered how to soften the reality check she'd just delivered about the time it takes to build confidence. The last thing she wanted was to discourage anyone else. She sucked at sugar-coating things—but at least she was being honest about it. Life had taught her that false hope was worse than brutal honesty, even if the truth stung a little at first. When Elena mentioned small wins, she perked up—finally, someone who got it. "Those little victories add up faster than you'd expect," she said, believing in the power of those incremental changes. The phone notification interrupted their flow, but she appreciated how life had its own timing. "Of course. I'd love to meet up again," she replied with a smile. Their conversation might have been brief, but she'd clicked with Elena's straightforward nature and honesty. Maybe they'd both found someone who understood the whole 'rebuilding yourself' thing. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Only time would tell.

COMPLETED

It was not good news to hear Layla admit to it taking years for her to get over that feeling. Because Elena had managed to do it for the last decade or so but now--to be back in Wilmington for the foreseeable future meant her doubts would be creeping back in as well. Sadly she wasn't sure she would be able to effectively combat it. "I get that, focusing on small wins sometimes is the easiest," she nodded knowing that for her--even purchasing her own home in Midtown was one of those small wins as opposed to living back there in her childhood home. "I like that--I think I'm going to have to adopt that mentality now," she said with a smile as she looked back at the other woman before back down at her phone that vibrated with a notification. "I hate to have to cut this short but I've got another meeting in half an hour and need to get home for it...but hopefully we can meet up again soon?" Elena asked with a friendly smile, already feeling like this woman was becoming someone she could count on and be friends with now that she was in Wilmington.

[mania-sama]

trick or treat!! =)

love the emoticon! the candy you've gracefully drawn is... a crossover! interesting, i wonder what kind... ah, yes! what gods i think the haikyuu characters are children of, in reference to percy jackson lore. i'm doing specifically the greek cabins (so, none of the gods that don't officially have any cabins, just to simplify things). but if i have any extra insight/thoughts on some of the other series (roman, norse, or egyptian) for the character, then i will give them.

i'm not doing all of the characters, just a select few that i can think of off the top of my head from most (not all) of the main high school teams:

KARASUNO

Hinata: Hermes, god of travelers and thieves, and often referred to as the "messenger of the gods". Now, I debated heavily on whether or not he would be a son of Hermes or Apollo, as Apollo is the embodiment of all things bright, but I think it is much more important that the speed aspect of Hinata's character is acknowledged. Additionally, Hermes... gets around. There are a lot of his kids, and at the beginning of the series, everybody who was unclaimed went to the Hermes cabin. Haikyuu is about, first and foremost, starting at the bottom and rising to the top. Literally, the main character's quote, "I'm Hinata Shoyo, from the Concrete." Nobody expects anything of him, as a child of Hermes. And then he proves that he can fly. Or, in Percy Jackson terms, be really cool and really important and have cool amazing powers, or something like that. He defies all expectations and fate itself and becomes someone worth listening to. He's like Luke, if Luke weren't so, hm, evil. I guess. And if he were a bit younger, more full of youthful life.

Kageyama: Apollo, god of archery, prophecy, healing, and disease, amongst many other things. I really went back and forth with him. Every god I thought of didn't seem right, but out of all of them, Apollo seems the most right (he very nearly got assigned Athena, but I think he is a little too stupid for that). He has natural talent, and I think that is something children of Apollo are blessed with. They are naturally talented at a great many things, and Kageyama was blessed with a natural talent of handling a volleyball. It's that disconnect from his peers that set him off. When people look at him, with his abilities and his unintentional controlling demeanor, they feel not just jealousy, but anger at the fact that he can't seem to get down at their level. That is the journey Apollo goes on in the Trials of Apollo, where he has to align himself with mortals and work with them, not just control them and make them do his bidding. The king has to become the peasant, and that is the same thing Kageyama has to go through. I am not here to say that Kageyama intentionally flaunts his power and precision and abilities, but he does do it, and it is something that he has to actively work through. Also, I think it pissed Oikawa OFF that Kageyama is a child of Apollo because Oikawa wanted to be that lmao.

Daichi: Hephaestus, god of fire and craftsmanship. I am NOT going to imply that he is ugly. He is not. My choice for him being a child of Hephaestus is not on any technical level; nothing about his character implies or shows that he's skilled with creation in any capacity. No, what it's interesting about Hephaestus is that, essentially, he provides the weaponry and tools that the gods use. When something breaks or needs repairing, he is the god the other gods turn to. He is the survivor of being thrown off of a cliff, you see. He is the foundation of the other gods. He is underrated; when you take away that foundation, the gods are left to stumble. Hephaestus can also have a certain level of wrath. He takes a lot, but he can also give a whole lot back in return. You don't get on Hephaestus' bad side. So, obviously, Daichi, as "Karasuno's foundation", would be a child of Hephaestus. He is that steady, important figure to stabilize and provide the tools needed for success for the rest of the team. Also, I think he played with fire as a kid. Sue me.

Nishinoya: Hermes, god of travelers and thieves. Originally, I had him clocked as a child of Hephaestus, but the more I explained it, the more I realized that, no, he is a child of Hermes. The reason why I thought Hephaestus was because of how much he reminds me of Leo Valdez (sans the insane levels of insecurity). But then I reconsidered. He is a menace to society. Children of Hermes are, in text, menaces to society. He's a fast little fucker, the guardian deity of the Karasuno. He came up with the quickest ways to get under the ball and back up to the air. The most damning evidence, though, is who he becomes in the timeskip. A traveler. He's all around the world, bringing himself and his love of volleyball with him wherever he goes. He's taking pictures, meeting new people, and having the time of his life. If he is not a child of Hermes, then Hermes is not the god of travelers, plain and simple.

Tsukkishima: Aphrodite, goddess of physical love and beauty. This mainly stems from how Riordan wrote the children of Aphrodite, who, for lack of better terms, are generally described as catty bitches in the first series. They also happen to be beautiful, and while I personally think Tsukkishima is... unattractive... I recognize that, canonically, he is attractive. For some reason. Anyway, many of the children of Aphrodite have the ability to use charmspeak, a type of hypnotism using words that can "convince" another person to do something that they want. Tsukkishima is most often featured using his words. He's not an incredibly physical person; when he wants to fight with someone, he does so using biting, venomous words. When he defends Yamaguchi in their backstory, he does so using intimidation in his words. He convinces them away. Also, Tsukkishima is a catty, mean character, but he is not without the positive attributes that redeem him, along with many of the Aphrodite children characters in the series.

AOBA JOHSAI

Oikawa: Athena, goddess of wisdom and war. I seriously debated him in putting him in another spot (Hades or Apollo, mainly), but I ultimately think he is a child of Athena, through and through. He is the head of his cabin, 100% percent, just like he is the captain of his team. He and Iwaizumi are the only ones I'm really going to bother mentioning for cabin heads, and that is because I have a very specific idea in my head, and thusly needs to be spoken into existence. Anyway, he is the strategist of his team. He sees the enemy across the court, and he is breaking them down in his mind. He is twisting their weaknesses in his head, and he is coming up with the strategy needed to win. But, another interesting thing to note when it comes to children of Athena, that the only thing they truly have is their minds. The smarts in their heads. They have no fun powers that may put them above their peers. They are "powerless". They can't control water, fire, or the wind itself. They can only strategize. I think this is important when it comes to Oikawa's character. He is someone who has had to fight to where he is, someone who was born with no natural talent, but forged it with his home-grown flames. That is a child of Athena. That is someone who will do everything to grow themselves into someone worth noticing, and someone who will do it well, and someone who will eventually win the war, no matter the battles that will be lost along the way (i.e. his eventual success to the Olympics in 2021). Not EVEN to mention the whole “pride” fatal flaw that Athena children tend to suffer from.

Iwaizumi: Ares, god of war. I want to make a special note that he is the head of his cabin, not only because he is strong, but he is also incredibly level-headed for a child of Ares. His violent side shines through, though; he is not a child of Ares for no reason. He is here because his first instinct to solve a problem is always going to be physically aggressive. To get sense through Oikawa's head, he bashes his forehead into his nose. He shakes him senseless, lobs volleyballs at his head, and is the deadly ace of his team. He is a child of Ares, and he is also best friends with the child of Athena, who's wisdom rubs off on him from time to time. Together, they make a deadly pair. Separate, they are strong, and they will war against each other with no end in sight (it is said that, when on opposing sides, neither Athena nor Ares can conquer or win over each other. They always come to a stalemate, regardless of what happens in PJO's capture the flag).

Hanamaki: Hecate, goddess of witchcraft, usually (though not by law) associated with darker magic like necromancy. You already KNOW he's cooking up some devious spells. He's got a whole book on how to ruin Oikawa's days through subtle, inconveniencing spells. He's learned how to quickly summon worms from the ground to invade Oikawa's tea in the morning. This is EXACTLY some type shit he would get up to.

Matsukawa: Hypnos, god of sleep. Oh, and you already KNOW he's right there beside Hanamaki to cause mayhem. They are the Stoll brothers 2.0., except completely unrelated, even by godly parentage. They are just best friends here to cause chaos for any camper they think is having too-good of a day. He's definitely invading Kyoutani's dreams and turning them into rainbow-glitter nightmares.

Kyoutani: Ares, god of war. Who else? Really, I want you to think of a more creative god to put this violent boy under. That's right, you CAN'T. He is the stereotypical Ares child. This is why he looks up to Iwaizumi so much, and really only listens to him (and why Oikawa chastises him so much); he really wants to prove to Iwaizumi that he is a great child of Ares. Really, though, he's just like the rest of them. Maybe just a tad more temperamental, though.

NEKOMA

Kuroo: Iris, goddess of communication and the rainbow. Now, you may be thinking, what the fuck, Mania? Where is this coming from? YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND. He was... very close to being a child of Athena, but I think his policy of "lowering the net", to teach everyone the love of volleyball and to give people the opportunity to do what they love the best that they can is vital to Kuroo's character. He becomes an organizer in the timeskip. He is actively pursuing his dream of bringing volleyball to everyone that he can, and I think that is so very, very important. He is the communicatory from the volleyball world (the gods) to everyone else who may just be an onlooker (mortals). He teaches those like Tsukkishima that volleyball is something that can be loved, not just played. He is the rainbow bridge bringing that love to everyone. Maybe she's not as cool or as sophisticated as the rest of the gods and cabins, but I want you to consider this: the demigods communication throughout the series was solely through Iris' rainbows. When her rainbows went down, nobody was able to talk to each other. Nobody. Everybody was in chaos, mayhem was tearing them apart. Nobody could get information quickly to point A and point B, all because they didn't have Iris' rainbows. Nobody would think to love or recognize her until she is gone. After all, you don't love or recognize breathing, do you?

Kenma: Hades, god of the underworld and the dead. I don't really have the best explanation for this other than the fact that I know this is right in my BONES. The way he interacts with other people just gives me child of Hades vibes. He's the brother of Nico di Angelo and Hazel Levesque and that is FINAL. Whenever I think of him, I think of the way, when he gets into whatever he's doing, he gets serious. Deadly. The way his gaze cuts over you, and the way you feel it gutting you inside out. The panel where he cages Hinata? So banger, so child of Hades. Not only that, but everyone kind of assumed he would do nothing with his life. Constantly playing games on his phone, never directing his energy into anything "productive" for society or for his physical health. And then, he has fun with volleyball. He grows up to be an extremely successful adult, CEO of his own company with thousands of fans at his beck and call. I think, when people saw Nico at his lowest, they figured he would be nothing and do nothing with his life. And then, he hones his power and becomes insanely strong, even if that strength comes at a price. I don't know how else to explain this, but Hades feels right to me and I make the laws around here, so. Yeah.

FUKURODANI

Bokuto: Zeus, god of the sky and thunder, more generally referred to as the "god of the gods". Listen. LISTEN to me. You HAVE to see the vision. When he goes to spike, the air CACKLES. It breaks, and the world shifts to recognize Bokuto as he flies. There is a reason that Akaashi is quoted to say, "We are the protagonists of this world." Why, when Bokuto is in the middle of the game, he says, "World, lend me your powers!" He embodies power, in my opinion, more than Ushijima or Sakusa ever did (who are both ranked, officially, above Bokuto in their high school days). It's clear that Furudate wanted to create a character that could embody that power, that victory, that all-importance, and he did that through Bokuto. You could argue Ushijima, but I think two things can be true at the same time. Bokuto is essentially a friendly version of Ushijima. Additionally, Zeus was known to have a temper. He was... an interesting... god, in the nicest way to put it. Bokuto's mind swings, and his incapability to reel in his emotions during his high school career, reflects Zeus neatly. And as a last little note, Bokuto graduated college, and nobody really knows how. If Zeus were a person, I kinda think that's how it would be for him, too. If you've read Percy Jackson, or really read any of Zeus' myths and legends, you'll see what I'm talking about. Not really the academic type, that one.

Akaashi: Nemesis, goddess of revenge. It also important to note that she is also considered a goddess of balance. To take something, you also have to give something. If you commit an act of violence, you will be aptly rewarded with violence in return. This is a little bit hard for me to explain, because it seems more obvious to align him with Athena. However, I think that balance is what really draws me to coin him as a child of Nemesis. He knows exactly where that push and pull is. He knows exactly when it is time to give and to take, when it is time to be mean or to be forgiving. A lot of people forget, I think, that Akaashi is not always kind to Bokuto. He joined Fukurodani to play with Bokuto, sure, but he is not a yes-man. He basically babysits Bokuto throughout the entirety of high-school. Handles him. Makes a list of his faults and strengths, and acts accordingly. Takes and gives to create balance. And that is how I view Nemesis, as the handler of the gods. She holds them accountable. She holds everyone accountable. (A more direct equivalent would be Themis, but she is... not an option.)

SHIRATORIZAWA

Ushijima: Jupiter, god of the sky and thunder, more generally referred to as the "god of the gods". No, I'm not even going to ENTERTAIN him as a child of a Greek god. In actual mythology, Jupiter and Zeus were really the same god. But in the book series, Jupiter is, essentially, a more orderly version of Zeus. Maybe not calmer, but more orderly. Camp Jupiter is also militaristic, organized, thorough. They train hard and expect great things of other people. I cannot think of any place that describes Ushijima and his mindset better. He is a child of Jupiter. People place their high expectations onto him, and he has nothing else to do but to follow through in their demands. He spikes hard, he plays hard, and he leads hard. People follow by his example, because they cannot help but to bask in his strength and glory. That is a child of Jupiter, per the Roman gods of Percy Jackson. And out of all of these that I have listed, I am the most sure of this decision.

Tendou: Tyche, goddess of luck and chance. While that may be his Greek cabin, I should like to add that I think he is, more clearly, a child of Loki (norse god of trickery), per Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard. People bullied Tendou as a child. He was the freak, the monster under your bed, and he eventually grew into it. I think, in Valhalla, he is treated much the same way. People skirt around him because he is a child of Loki, the trickster god, the one set to bring down Asgard and the entire Norse mythological population... or something like that. I don't know. I'm not entirely up-to-date with Norse mythology. ANYWAY. He is a child of Loki, plan and simple. But he is also a resident of Valhalla. Despite what everyone says about him, he died a warrior's death. He died as a hero on a battlefield, the battlefield being a corner of a street in Japan where be bravely took a knife to his chest defending a child. He is a worthy man. He just also happens to be a trickster as well. I cannot think of a better summary for Tendou than that; the boy who could predict the freak quick attacks at every move, who sang unusual, eerie songs to piss off the people around him, who lets the term freak roll off of him, since he's now so used to it. I think he is someone who likes to play the occasional prank, who won't actually let a slight against him slide, should it be serious enough. Who would come up with the most creative way to get revenge on someone who punched him in the nose, in his late teenage years. Yes, that is who Tendou is.

Goshiki: Ares, god of war. I've already explained extensively how I think about Ares and his children, so I fear this should be obvious. Also, he seems more to be a child of Mars, the Roman god of war, just purely for that militaristic, orderly fashion that the Roman camp goes by in the books. I should explain that I've always viewed Ares/Mars to be a rip-off of Zeus/Jupiter. Literally the god children were born to because Uncle Rick couldn't overpopulate the Zeus/Jupiter cabins more than he already did. So, yeah. Goshiki is striving to be the ace of Shiratorizawa, following directly in Ushijima's footsteps. He's just a more volatile, rip-off version of Ushijima (no hate to Goshiki, and I sincerely apologize for my words to all Goshiki fans. But this is how I believe. He is funny for this exact reason. A blood-lusted, temperamental version of Ushijima). He is a child of Mars, through and through.

INARIZAKI

Kita: Demeter, goddess of agriculture. Is this a bit of a gimme? Sure, but it's a gimme for a reason. Demeter absolutely fits him well. In Percy Jackson, Demeter is one of the cabins that's severely overlooked, in my opinion. We don't get much on their characters until we hit Meg, who's lineage to Demeter is very non-relevant due to all of the stuff she has going on with Nero. Likewise, as he is in the series/manga, Kita is a severely underestimated character until we see just how impactful he is on the court. In his story, he doesn't even get a jersey until high school. And then, suddenly, in his third year, he's made captain? He's the example, what people should follow if they want to succeed. Likewise, people worshipped Demeter for their harvest, which was absolutely essential to their lives in Ancient Greece. Then, of course, Kita grows up to be a farmer. That plays a part in my decision, too.

Atsumu & Osamu: Nike, goddess of victory. It would be too much of a gimme to compare them to the Stoll brothers. Really, I don't think they are that much alike the Stoll Twins, so they do not get the Hermes cabin. They are so clearly children of victory that it HURTS. I think, despite their obvious hunger to win, the dead give-away is the amount of pain and anger Atsumu was in when Osamu told him he wouldn't be going pro. To Atsumu, he and Osamu were his ideas of victory. He thought that the only way to win was together. When that broke, he felt like Osamu was admitting defeat, and bringing Atsumu down with him. He felt like Osamu was preventing their victory, their chances to win and their chances at ever bathing in the glory of competition ever again. Because that is also a give-away of their parentage; their competitive streaks. As much as victory is important together against other people, they are also striving to be victorious over each other (i.e. Osamu's bet to Atsumu to see who will be the happier twin). When you think of Miya Twins, only one word should ever come to your mind: Victory.

Aran: Apollo, god of archery, prophecy, healing, and disease, amongst many other things. But, I am not very confident about this. Why? Well, I sat with him for a really long time and pondered what cabin he would be in. Nothing felt right, and I was juggled between many options. And then I realized, oh my God, he is a magician for SURE. He is definitely an avatar of Horus, Egyptian god of the sky and (somewhat) the sun, per the Kane Chronicles. It's been a while since I've read any of the Kane Chronicles books, and I have never truly finished the series, not for the fault of not finding it interesting or good, it's just never worked out. So unfortunately, I don't have as much insight as I do for many of the other characters. However, I will provide this: Aran has a slightly different energy than Bokuto and Ushijima, but he is still powerful in much the same ways they are. His energy is very similar, but it's not the same. They are Roman and Greek, who were pretty much the same gods in actual mythology. Horus is a little different; Horus is the son of the sun, Ra. He is a leader of the gods, and in some tales, he is considered the "god of the gods", kind of. And that's all I really have; I just KNOW this is right. Trust me.

ITACHIYAMA

Sakusa: Apollo, god of archery, prophecy, healing, and disease, amongst many other things. Yes, the jokes write themselves. He is a top two ace. His precision and speed is deadly accurate, with insanely flexible wrists. He is a cutie patootie. I mean, LOOK at him. That is an attractive man. He does not obtain some of the other qualities that Apollo children may have (namely, comfortably at the center of attention), but that does not mean he isn't one. I look at the way he cares for his health and well-being, constantly donning a mask and worrying about germs. I look at his strengths and the way he analyzes other people, slamming the ball like Apollo sends an arrow into Achilles' heel. His words tear into you, breaking you down and all your weaknesses. He demands to know more, because Apollo is the god of prophecy and knowledge, a god that inherently bestows curiosity into all of his children. Sakusa's curiosity just tends to come off more, ah, aggressively. I guess.

[vaguely-concerned]

there are a lot of daddy issues to go around on DS9 in general, but odo, bashir and garak are really in their own special little fucked up 'what am I but wrought in my father's image' club

[angy-grrr]

spoilers for chapter 429

idk if you guys remember but ochako does have parallels with All Might, specifically as the side who saves. It’s not that he feels the same for them both or something like that, they serve to represent the type of heroism he naturally goes to; his friend is not his love interest, from his perspective she’s out there having a crisis over not being able to save her, and Izuku reminds her that she is a hero bc she is his hero -she saved him multiple times, and she should be able to feel like a proper hero.

This conversation is not about the nature of their relationship, is about heroism; Izuku relates to a conflict between being a hero who saves and failing to save someone, and doesn’t want to see Ochako ending spiraling because she couldn’t also fulfill that role as expected. She’s his hero not because he loves her romantically -he’s a nerd I’m sure he would be way more nervous and blushing if he was confessing anything he thought was romantic- but because she’s able to go and do what All Might does to Izuku, save him physically and emotionally.

He knows she hides her feelings in order to not be a burden, yet he doesn’t talk about his own feelings outside of his guilt in heroics -what does he feel about losing OFA? About his own failures? About the people he personally lost? He can’t talk for others and claim Ochako is everyone’s hero, but he can speak for himself, and that’s his personal perspective -she is a hero to him, she’s his hero. And then the class appears to make sure she’s able to get support and understand she’s not alone, and she’s important to them too.

but Izuku doesn’t get support. Izuku cries a little and talks a little about himself, but he doesn’t get supported. If this was meant to be romantic, I don’t understand why he would hold back what’s inside of him.

the end of the chapter reveals that boy is going to be helped by that woman who regretfully ignored Tenko, and they both witness it and are happy about it while hearing izuku inspired that change, and iida wonders what’s up with them -this is the conclusion to their relationship. In their hearts these two are saviors who struggle to be heroes who save others, and they are happy there are appearing more people who want to be heroes like them. Heroes who save. Save like All Might.

That grandma for example, interpreting the narrative as what I think is intended, would be that boy’s All Might; she’s his hero.

Izuku and Ochako are heroes who save, and Deku is here to remind her at least she did save him many times, that she is still a hero because she is his hero. I don’t believe is meant to be interpreted as romantic, not that Izuku sees that phrase as it neither -after all, he said he does want to be like All Might and feels good to imitate him, but he doesn’t love him.

Ochako’s All Might hair moment, the parallels with Toshinori telling him he can be a hero, the trying to save from black suffocating quirks, the we can do it and do your best…

Do I need to remind you heroes arent a romantic thing for Izuku Midoriya?

[rosszulorzott]

, we won! 🎉

 

Greedy fossil fuel companies have been kicked off the climate negotiation table by the European Union. The EU Climate Commissioner, Hoekstra, did not invite Big Oil and Gas lobbyists to join his delegation to the global climate talks taking place in Baku, Azerbaijan right now. [1] 

For too long, the fossil fuel lobby has dominated conversations on how to solve the climate crisis. All to maintain their business model of drilling and burning ever more planet-killing oil and gas for profits and stop any action that could save our earth. 

But now, thanks to people like you, the EU has made a historic step and finally said “No more!”

While our leaders were discussing urgent climate action, torrential rains in Valencia, Spain, claimed hundreds of lives and left thousands homeless. [2] Floods, droughts, deaths - we need decisions that end our addiction to fossil fuels and this will not happen with the fossil fuel industry whispering in our leaders' ears. 

Together, we’ve worked hard for this victory. 

Last year we raised our voices during Hoekstra’s appointment as the EU climate Commissioner. Making clear we would be monitoring whether he breaks with his past of working for the fossil fuel industry. [3] 

With 112 other organisations, we sent a letter to  Hoekstra, urging him to treat fossil fuel lobbyists the same way as tobacco lobbyists, who are prohibited from participating in health conferences. [4] 

We took advantage of the crucial job interview that would determine if Hoekstra could stay for another 5 years. 2100 of you across Europe flooded him with emails, asking him to kick the fossil lobbyists out.

The pressure was so strong that, at the height of the storm, Hoekstra even watched an Instagram story addressing him from WeMove! 

The result? Not only did he listen to us and not take fossil fuel lobbyists to the climate talks. We also put enough pressure on him that during his job interview, he publicly backed stricter rules against conflicts of interest with the fossil fuel lobby in all EU climate decisions. [5]

But, the battle isn’t over. 113 fossil fuel lobbyists infiltrated this year’s climate talks through national delegations from countries like Italy, Greece, and Belgium. [6] With all deciding climate talks in just one year, and time to tackle the climate crisis running out, there’s no room for error. [7] 

We must pressure national leaders as we did with Hoekstra, but we need more support to succeed. Share this campaign and invite others to join; together, we can win the next stage of this fight.

SHARE FOR A FOSSIL-FREE FUTURE

With joy and determination, 

Hajar (Bologna), Olga (Warsaw), Rachel (Amsterdam) and the whole WeMove Europe team.

References:

[1] https://fossilfreepolitics.org/news/europe-brings-gas-lobbyists-to-cop29-to-strike-deals/ 

[2] https://www.france24.com/en/europe/20241102-volunteers-rally-assist-victims-spain-devastating-floods 

[3] Take action for a real EU climate leader

[4] https://fossilfreepolitics.org/news/112-orgs-tell-hoekstra-not-to-bring-fossil-fuel-lobbyists-to-cop29/ 

[5] https://www.politico.eu/article/5-things-to-know-about-climate-chief-wopke-hoekstras-hearing/ 

[6] https://www.euronews.com/my-europe/2024/11/18/defeating-its-purpose-fossil-fuel-lobbyists-accompany-european-governments-to-cop29 

[7] https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2024/oct/24/crunch-time-for-real-un-says-time-for-climate-delays-has-run-out

WeMove Europe is a community of people from all walks of life, who call Europe our home, no matter where we were born, where we live or who we love. In the name of a brighter future for people and the planet, we come together to sign petitions, send letters and protest on the streets to make our voices heard.

Our power comes from each other. And it's thanks to small weekly donations, fivers and tenners, that we can keep going. Please help keep WeMove Europe strong by chipping in!

DONATE!  

To the European Commission, European Parliament and Council of the European Union

Petition

We need fossil free politics before it’s too late. If EU decision-makers really want to introduce policies that benefit people and the planet then they need to stop listening to the fossil fuel industry.

We the supporters of this petition demand institutions enforce a firewall between the fossil fuel industry and decision-makers: 

by ending decision-makers’ interactions with the industry (that means no lobby meetings, no seats on expert and advisory bodies)

by avoiding conflicts of interest for government officials and employees, including closing the “revolving door” between the public sector and the fossil fuel industry

by ending the preferential treatment of the fossil fuel industry in climate negotiations

and by rejecting partnerships and sponsorships with the fossil fuel industry

We need to cut fossil fuel interests out of politics.

Why is this important?

EU Commissioners and high-level officials meet with fossil fuel lobbyists almost every single day. [1]

Politicians are talking out of both sides of their mouth - promising us the ambitious climate laws we’ve fought for while having daily meetings with Big Oil and Gas. The EU even put an ex-Shell consultant in charge of their climate policies. [2] You couldn’t make this farce up. 

But we can break up this cosy relationship. These weeks will see the new ‘ministers’ called Commissioners for the EU nominated. Who is chosen for these powerful positions and who they’re friendly with, will determine how much fossil fuel lobbyists can pollute our plans to address climate change.

Conversations are underway right now over who gets the powerful Commissioner jobs. We want those writing the rules to know we are watching them. If we create a huge noise, it’ll rule out any politicians in the pocket of the fossil fuel industry. 

Add your voice for a strong firewall between the EU and the fossil fuel industry.

[crave-mp3]

I LOVE BEING ARO SO MUCH!!!!!! I WILL NEVER FEEL ROMANTIC ATTRACTION AND THATS BEAUTIFUL AND NATURAL AND SOMETHING I WILL WIELD AS A WEAPON AND A SHIELD AGAINST ANYONE WHO WOULD CHANGE ME OR ERASE ME!!!!!! REALIZING I AM ARO WAS ONE OF THE MOST JOYFUL AND FREEING AND ILLUMINATING EXPERIENCES OF MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY EXUBERANCE AT LIVING WITHOUT THE NARROW SOCIETAL IDEA OF "LOVE" KNOWS NO BOUNDS AND I SEE BEAUTY IN EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!! MY LIFE OVERFLOWS WITH JOYFUL ABUNDANCE!!!!!!!! I AM BURSTING FOR AFFECTION WITH EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WILL NEVER BE "ALONE" (I WILL NEVER BE LONELY) BECAUSE I WILL MAKE FOR MYSELF A LIFE THAT SINGS AND SHINES!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE LIVING A LOVELESS LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THE SELF RELIANCE OF MY HAPPINESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM INFINITE AND BOUNDLESS AND DEFY DESCRIPTION OR CATEGORIZATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM AROMANTIC!!!!!!!! ALL IS JOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ALL IS LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!