#olympic laurel

[coochiequeens]

A lot of lefties blasting RayGun for taking a spot at the Olympics instead of someone who could actually breakdance didn't say shit when this guy took the spot instead of a WOC and then made cutesy hand signals after bombing out.

Laurel Hubbard has made history by becoming the first openly transgender athlete to compete in an individual event at the Summer Olympics. The New Zealand weightlifter did not make the podium, after failing to advance to the final.

Competing in the 87+kg class on Monday, Hubbard struggled to lift 125 kg (275 pounds), putting her out of the running. Her official result is "did not finish," as she bowed out after failing to record a clean lift in the snatch section of the two-part competition.

Hubbard had seemed to successfully lift the weight in her second of three attempts, but in a split decision, the judges ruled she had not held the bar steady above her head.

Despite not reaching the final round, Hubbard smiled and cupped her hands together in a heart gesture before walking off the stage at the Tokyo International Forum.

"My performance wasn't what I had hoped, but I'm humbled by the support I've received from so many people around New Zealand," she said, adding, "I am aware that my participation has been controversial."

"Thank you to the IOC for living up to the Olympic values and showing that sport is for all and that weightlifting can be done by all types of people," Hubbard said.

In her emotional farewell, Hubbard also thanked Japan for hosting the Games, according to her country's Olympic committee.

Trans athletes have reached new heights in Tokyo

Hubbard joins Canada's Quinn, a midfielder on the country's national soccer team who is transgender and nonbinary, in reaching new heights for trans athletes at the Tokyo Games. Quinn, a veteran of the women's team who came out last year and uses one name, recently became the first openly trans person to compete in an Olympics.

Hubbard made headlines when the International Olympic Committee cleared her to compete — a decision that has sparked both support and criticism. For her part, Hubbard has welcomed the chance to compete on the world stage while also showing her true self.

"I commend the IOC for its commitment to making sport inclusive and accessible," she said on Friday. After Monday's loss, Hubbard also thanked the International Weightlifting Federation.

"They have been extraordinarily supportive," she said. "I think that they, too, have shown that weightlifting is an activity that's open to all the people of the world."

She took 15 years off from lifting

When she was in her 20s, Hubbard was a rising star in men's weightlifting, but she quit the sport, she recently said, after struggling with "the pressure of trying to fit into a world that perhaps wasn't really set up for people like myself."

She began transitioning in 2012 — and after a hiatus of more than 15 years, she started working toward a return to competitive weightlifting.

Hubbard, 43, is 10 years older than any other athlete who was in her Group A heat at Monday's competition.

The gold was won by China's Li Wenwen, the world-record holder in the event. Team USA's Sarah Robles won bronze. It's the second bronze for Robles, who in 2016 broke a long Olympic drought for U.S. weightlifting.

"Samoa Prime Minister Tuilaepa Sailele's anger was palpable after Hubbard claimed gold at the Pacific Games over Samoa's Feagaiga Stowers, who took home silver.

"This fa'afafine [a Samoan third gender] or man should have never been allowed by the Pacific Games Council president to lift with the women," Mr Tuilaepa told the Samoa Observer."

In case anyone whinesxabout TIMs bring oppressed this Hubbards father, a successful businessman and politian

[daveb]

three kinds of salty licorice a sweatshirtwith an immense kitten some Maple AlmondCashew butter compressed white tea cardamomseeds in their own grinder a pack of Sugrua Kaweco Lilliput fountain pen click lick click but is it too late to pluckthe prized moon-blooming oh you’re back already— what did you say about the lack of laurelsin the breezy storage space—perhaps weshould look instead…

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

WAITTTTT HERA THROWING OFF HER LAUREL CROWN (typically awarded to victors, like those who win Olympic events) IN THE LIVESTREAM GOD GAMES ANIMATIC- SHE'S GIVING ATHENA AN OPPORTUNITY TO TALK TO HER NOT AS A QUEEN, BUT AN EQUAL AND A CHANCE TO WIN THE GAME

[phyrestartr]

Man of Worship (P.1) | Zagreus x M!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 |

w/c: 2.3k #NSFW themes, demigod reader, eventual polyamory, traumatic past, healing from trauma, mentions of dub-con, mentions of suicide, hurt/comfort, boys being boys, toxic parents, olympic gods doing typical olympic god bs

Note: SO this is basically a rework of Rhubarb, even though I still want to pursue the rest of Rhubarb with that particular reader character, HOWEVER I generally make two or three versions of the same story while I'm brainstorming, and I ended up digging into more Greek mythos while looking for inspo and BOOM.

ANYWAY I didn't tag for this since it's a new fandom I'm writing for, but if you'd like to be tagged, pls feel free to leave a comment!! I'll update my tag form thing in a moment too :D I hope this is a fun read!!

--

1. A Gardener?

He noticed first the flutter of feathered wings. It was an odd thing to hear in the underworld, and even odder still to hear it come from the outer gardens–the place poor, pitiful Zagreus was barred from. 

Father won't tell me anything of this. And that was true--Hades was anything but straightforward and honest with his son. So, to the real parent of the house was where the prince went.

“Erm, Nyx?” Zagreus asked, shooting glances back at the iron gates as he met his mother-figure. “I've got a question for you, if you don't mind.”

“I do not mind. I will do my best to answer, my child.” She watched him with eased attention, then followed his gaze to the forbidden outdoors. “Is something the matter?” 

“No–well, maybe? Not sure, but. Well.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck. “Just–are there birds out in the garden?” 

Nyx blinked. “Birds?” 

“Yes. I keep hearing something fluttering around every now and then, and I swear I've seen something moving around in the garden. You know, the one I'm not allowed to enter?” 

“Ah.” The goddess nodded. “Of course. There is a new servant of the house, one who was chosen to tend to the gardens.”  

“Really.” Zagreus planted his hands on his hips and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, gaze returning to the forbidden area. “Well, that's the first I've heard of it.” 

“He does not linger long; he arrives with the sun, and leaves only when the work is done,” Nyx explained. “He is a diligent helper of the House. Your father is quite pleased, I've noticed.” 

“Well, I've never thought that Father could be pleased in any regards.” Zagreus’ mismatched gaze flickered back to Nyx. “But why now? The garden's never needed a tender before.”

“A flower wilted,” Nyx sighed, looking aside. “And your father has grown concerned.”

“Hah. Concerned for the plants? Good to know he can still give a damn about something,” Zagreus bit, sending a scalding glare to the throne. “Guess that's why he locked it up, kept it from me.”

Night smiled, sympathetic. “You do have a reputation.”

“One that I must uphold,” he agreed, heart light and spirit lifted higher. “Thank you, Nyx. I should get back to ransacking my father's domain.”

Nyx nodded sagely and reached a hand up, fixing the tilt of Zagreus’ burning laurel. “I would hope for nothing less, my child.” 

–

“You play music?” 

Your voice startled Zagreus, sending a Zeus-like jolt through him and holding him in place with a fit of numbing static. Thankfully, however, twas not the true bite of the sky king, and Zagreus had the luxury to back out of his room a few paces. 

“You heard?” He asked, face somehow both paling and burning in tandem.

You, whilst leaning against the iron gate, nodded. “‘N if I did?”

“Oh.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “That's unfortunate. Sorry for the bother.”

“Don't misunderstand me, god.” Your spectral eyes bore into him with easy confidence. Zagreus quite liked that look. “You played much like a dying pigeon at first, I'll admit, but you've improved.” 

Zagreus laughed and approached you. Your dry informality pricked him with intrigue. “Well, now I know you're lying.”

“Lies are useless for those who need the truth.” Your words came so bold, the prince had no choice but to believe you. “I can hear it. The notes–they come easier to you. Sweeter, even. Like figs ripe on the tree.” 

“Figs?” Zagreus tilted his head much like Cerberus might. “Huh. Can't say I've had one of those.” 

“Really? Well, then I shall see to it that you wonder no longer, god.” You leaned away, nearly out of sight of the iron-barred gateway, and jostled through the leaves of a bush or tree of sorts before the sharp snap of something announced your return. 

You stuck your arm through a gap in the fence, one where your glowing skin was threatened by a cascade of decorative thorns, but you didn't much care. That care, instead, found itself funneled into the deliverance of a ripe fig to the prince of the underworld, it seemed. 

Zagreus stared for a moment. He wasn't used to receiving gifts unless he bestowed one upon another, first. To him, this almost felt like–could it be--

“If you don't take it in the next three seconds, I'm going to eat it myself and not hand you another,” you groused.

“Hah.” He snatched the fruit from your hand. “You wouldn't dare.” 

“I've dared much worse, god, believe me.” You withdrew your hand and drummed your palms against the iron. “Well, enjoy. And be sure to clean your hands before touching that lyre again.” You looked him over, face placid as it'd been for his entire short history knowing you–but your eyes, the strange things, they hinted at hidden curiosities. “I'll be listening.” 

–

“Say, Meg, do you know much about the new House attendant?” Zagreus asked, flourishing his Stygian blade as he walked towards the Fury, prepared to fight after a quick chat.

Megaera's eyes narrowed. “You're talking about the flirt.”

“The flirt?” Zagreus rested his sword down, digging its diamond tip into the cracked ground. “Is that really what he's known for? Flirting? He doesn't seem like the type.”

A heavy sigh left Meg. “Ask Than. He might be more willing to endure your rambling and answer questions. I am not.” 

“You know, I think we really need to work on your patience.” Still, he flicked up his blade of the underworld, and lunged first. 

–

As the Fates would have it, Thanatos was already at the House. Even more fateful, still, was where he stood–not by the river Styx, no, but by the garden’s gate for a change. Death's presence on that side of the house seemed…odd, despite his infrequent visits to the lounge. Never before did he show interest in a coworker, neither, not unless it was his twin who needed some firm and stringent guidance. 

“Admiring the flowers?” Zagreus asked, and Death flinched. 

“No, I–” He sighed, and spared a look over his shoulder. “What do you want, Zagreus?” 

The shorter one shrugged, and stood beside his age-old friend. “Came to find you. Is that so odd?” 

“If you're going to shove more nectar in my hands, then you can forget it.” Thanatos looked away again and scowled beyond iron bars. “You've made your bed.”

Zagreus stifled a sigh, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I–well–in all honesty, I had a question, one that I'd hoped you could answer.”

“Then ask.”

“Right to the point then.” Zagreus cleared his throat and shuffled closer to Death. “Who exactly is the new gardener? Meg said you might know.” 

Thanatos graced him with a wide-eyed stare. “I thought you'd know by now.”

Zagreus shrugged. “I wouldn't be asking if I knew.” 

“He is–” Death paused, his jaw tightening, tendons threatening to snap. “Why do you want to know?”

Zagreus convinced himself not to pry. “We haven't had a new servant of the House in, well, eternities. Father wouldn't allow just anyone in here.” 

“Sure, but don't you think you should ask him yourself?”

“It's hard to catch him. He's quite flighty, as Fate would have it. Must be the wings.” 

“Must be.” Zagreus swore he heard the inkling of a smile on those words. “Well, I don't think it's fair for me to spoil the introduction. But I will say this–he was a servant of the House in life, and now continues on in death.” 

“Really?” Zagreus couldn't quite wrap his head around it. How could someone be devoted to the house before even arriving?

“Yes. He made my job easier, in some regards. Assisted, at the very least,” Death said.

“Huh.” Zagreus crossed his arms and scuffed his sole against time-worn stone. “Guess that explains that. I don't suppose you'd be willing to go into elaborate detail regarding what exactly our avian gardener did in life to earn yours and Father's favour? Or, even just his name?” 

“No.” A luminous wash of turquoise licked off Death's shoulders, his scythe. “Ask him yourself. I've work to do.”

And with the toll of a bell, he was gone. 

–

It took a while to catch you again. Apparently, you kept to a strict, self-imposed schedule that Zagreus couldn't even begin to understand despite its simplicity. Nyx told him you arrived come morning, at the very least. That may have been helpful, if Zagreus could tell the damn time in the underworld. 

So, he resorted to guessing; if he could not find you through the convenience of your daily routine, he'd swing by whenever he died. He was bound to run into you at some point. 

And he did. It was when he wandered to the lounge, eager to deliver a wealth of fish to the head chef, that he caught the ghostly sound of feathers against leaves.

Zagreus backed out of the lounge in time to see your curious glance. A rush pulsed through him–finally, finally, he'd get his chance to interrogate you.

“Hey!” He called. 

“Hey,” You called back. 

“Just--don’t go anywhere. I need to hand over some river denizens and then I need to speak with you,” Zagreus rambled off as quickly as he could. 

Your brows furrowed, but you offered a shallow nod. “I'll wait up.”

With that, Zagreus sped by the gossiping Meg and Dusa and a gaggle of other patrons to all but throw his catch to the head chef. It was a good haul today. Hopefully that meant–ah ha. 

Zagreus rolled the bottle of nectar over in his hands. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he sang, and ran off, tucking the gift away before approaching the iron bars.

You were toiling away, a little farther in the garden than before, but not too far to escape the prince's presence. It gave him a chance to take a good look at you: simple black chiton on a well-muscled frame, wings full of bronze feathers, wild hair tied back into the smallest of ponytails. You looked quite ordinary, save for the wings. 

But your eyes had been strange: they glowed. Not with the morose cold of Ixion, but with the exact opposite. Warm. Bronze. Sunlit, maybe. He'd never known sunlight, but you must have kept a drop of it in your very soul.

“So?” You said as you meandered back to him. You walked with unbothered confidence, much different to Zagreus’ sprightly impatience. “What important matters must we discuss?”

“Your name, first of all,” the prince requested. “I am Zagreus, son of Hades and--"

“Prince of the underworld,” you added. “Well, I figured you were him. Good to have a proper introduction, I suppose.” You took a breath. “As for me, you'll call me (Name).” 

Zagreus repeated the name. It held a fullness in his mouth, something sweet and foreign, too much like the fig you'd offered him not too long ago. Maybe you were the minor god of figs (wouldn't that be something?).

“Pleased to meet you, then. I trust the garden will be well-kept in your capable hands. And wings,” Zag said. “Oh! And, ah, here--a token of thanks for your hard work.”

Your brows raised and Zagreus’ chest filled with hope; for once, your blank mask changed, and you looked less like a gorgon-born statue and more like a human. Somehow, it gave him relief.

But your expression crumpled into furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. “Nectar?” You wondered aloud. 

Zagreus nodded and slipped the bottle best he could through the gap. “Yes, I…I hope you will take it, if it pleases you.”

You examined the bottle as it slipped into your hand and leaned a shoulder up against the gate. “Odd. Why is it in the underworld?”

The tension left Zagreus’ muscles as you accepted the gift. “Not a clue. Maybe Olympus ferries some down here from time to time to try and liven things up.”

“Hah.” The mock laughter almost sounded genuine. “Dionysus would, from what I've heard of him.” You held the bottle up, watching the light reflect shards of gold and ghostly greens. “He's not so bad, that god of wine.” 

“You've met him?” Zagreus wondered.

“No,” you admitted. Your light-filled eyes found him again. “But I've met gods, when I once lived. No man should have to meet them. They bring misfortune, even the supposed good ones.” 

The prince took a sure step forward, and your eyes steeled. “Well, you're right about Dionysus,” he assured instead of scorned. “He's good. I'm sure he's had his moments, still. But I get on with him well.” I'm sure you would, too, he decided against saying; the more he took in your features, the more he realized the god's work carved into you, painting you unnatural colours and robbing you of something only humans could have. He didn't think you'd much enjoy being forced into a hypothetical with them. 

“Then I shall take your word for it,” you said. “And I will pretend this bottle comes from Dionysus, to make it more palatable.”

“Well, whatever pleases you.” Zagreus smiled and leaned against the wall by the gate. “But, if I may ask, which gods have you–”

“Boy,” Hades’ voice thundered, echoing down the hall. “Do not disturb the rest of the House and distract them from their duties. Unlike you, they do not wish to disappoint.” 

Zagreus clicked his tongue and looked over his shoulder. “Yes, of course, Father. I'll get right to ignoring every blasted person in this damn House. Perhaps I'll consider a life of solitude while I'm at it!” 

“Do not test me further, boy.”

Zagreus rolled his eyes, but gave in, finding your (gentler?) eyes once again. “Well. I'd more than happily argue with my father all day–or night–about this, but I wouldn't want you to bear the punishment.” 

You nodded a little and glanced from the prince back down to the bottle. “I appreciate this, princeling.”

“It's nothing, really.” Though Zagreus did indeed beam with delight. “Well, then I'll leave you to your work.”

“Be sure to come back. I need to return the favour,” you said as you turned. “Until then, princeling.”

[literallyjusttoa]

Apollo throughout the ages! Or at least from birth to Rome. I'm going to go ham on explaining the timeline under the cut, but I hope you guys like the designs I made for the different periods of his life!

Anyways EXTREME TIMELINE RAMBLING TIME

Baby (2591 B.C.E.): The year I arbitrarily decided Apollo was born in lmao. Apollo didn’t look like this for long. Probably only like, a minute. Just long enough for Leto to safely give birth and then he was immediately like “ew, no I wanna be big” 

2. Fighting Python (2591 B.C.E.): Immediately after being born, Apollo flies off to go fight Python for 7 days (fun!). After that, he is punished for committing murder and has to purify himself by serving as a slave for 9 years in the Vale of Tempe (funner!) Yeah, Apollo definitely had an A+ childhood. One thing in his first two designs Apollo doesn’t look entirely human. This is bc I like to think he was born with some cool titan traits!

3. Pre-First Punishment (2582-2300 B.C.E): Back from his years in the mortal realm, Apollo looks much more human. His clothes are inspired by Ancient Aegean fashions I found, as we are long before the start of what is considered Ancient Greece. Apollo is the youngest member of the Olympian council and it shows. This boyish look stays with him until after he serves under Laomedon.

Other events that happen during this time: 

Hermes is born (Around 2500 B.C.E.)

4. Post-First Punishment (2290-ish B.C.E-1500 B.C.E.): Apollo comes back from Troy influenced by their traditions, and it shows in his design. There wasn’t much I could find on how Troy differed from the rest of the Mediterranean at the time (probably bc for a while we thought the place didn’t even exist lmao) but I did find something that said an emphasis was put on those with higher status wearing jewelry. So Apollo gets pearls in his hair and golden bands around his arms. His clothes are inspired by feminine Aegean attire. 

Other events that happen during this time:

Music duel with Marsyas (Around 2000 B.C.E)

Dionysus is born (Around 1600 B.C.E)

5. Post-Daphne (1500 B.C.E-1194 B.C.E.): The introduction of the laurel. After Daphne’s death, Apollo distances himself from his family a bit, which leads perfectly into our next big event-

6. Trojan War (1194-1184 B.C.E): Apollo sides with Troy, and its influence once again appears in his appearance, this time even more pronounced. In a war against not only Greece, but his own family, Apollo keeps himself covered and constantly prepared to aid in battle. Missing his mother back on Delos, Apollo grows his hair out for the first time. 

7. Post-Trojan War and Hyacinthus (1184 B.C.E-776 B.C.E.): After Troy falls, Apollo sheds it’s influence quickly, not wanting to look like he’s supporting a side the rest of his family is either against or has given up on. He breaks his time evenly between Olympus and the mortal realm, and takes many lovers until the death of Hyacinthus around 800 B.C.E. After that, he stays up in the heavens for a few decades. 

8. “Main” Apollo (776 B.C.E-540 B.C.E): Starting with the first Olympics in Greece, Apollo is lifted as a paragon of Greece and its people. Shedding the peplos he has worn throughout his early years, Apollo wears a classic chiton and becomes much more invested in the affairs of man. This is a period of great power and ecstasy for him, but as the saying goes, pride goes before the fall. 

Other events that happen during this time: 

Death of Niobe’s children (Around 770 B.C.E.)

Music duel with Pan (Around 750 B.C.E)

Dating Cyrene (Around 630 B.C.E)

9. Coronis-Asclepius (540 B.C.E-500 B.C.E): A design that only lasts as long as Asclepius lives. Zeus is unsettled by Apollo’s influence over Greece, and starts applying more pressure against him. This leaves Apollo stressed, and that's without the fact that he is now raising a prodigy in medicine alongside Chiron. In these 40 years, Apollo attempts to balance his want to be involved in the mortal world with his fathers wrath. In the end, his father will win. 

Other events that happen during this time: 

Around 515 B.C.E - Tarquin purchases the Sibylline Books. Apollo and the Sybil of Cumae must happen before this point (not entirely sure when yet, but definitely in this period.)

10. 2nd Punishment (500 B.C.E.): Apollo serves his second punishment under Admetus. Crushed by the loss of his son and anger of his father, Apollo spends most of this time in hiding. It is only through the gentle hand of Admetus that Apollo finds some sort of healing. 

11. Late Greece (499 B.C.E-146 B.C.E.): Apollo is definitely trying to move on far too quickly from his punishment. He cuts his hair, dons his chiton, and gets right into being an Olympian. It doesn’t help that he is beginning to see the cracks in the foundations of Greece. Athens is flourishing, but only at the expense of Sparta and his own Delos. Years of civil war and threats of Roman invasion leave Apollo shaken, and he pulls away from both the mortal realm and his family, who seem more and more like strangers every day…

Other events that happen during this time:

Trophonius’ death (Around 200 B.C.E)

12. Fall of Greece (146 B.C.E.-32 B.C.E.): Rome officially takes over Greece, and suddenly Apollo’s family are all lost to him. As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t think Apollo has a Roman form like the rest of his family, and I imagine the sudden switch in their personalities must have been terrifying. Rarely worshiped and ostracized from Olympus, Apollo returns to the mortal realm, spending his time in solitude as a shepherd. As his influence grows weaker, he begins to show sign of weakness. This is the only time Apollo “ages” (I gave him a beard) and I tried to take away some of the attributes that would have been considered divine. Apollo is completely covered, and he wears shoes (which gods would never do)

13. Rome: (32 B.C.E.-476 C.E.): I know, I know, Apollo should have multiple Rome designs, but I got lazy. Apollo is credited by Octavian for his success in battle against Marc Antony and Cleopatra, and worship of the god skyrockets. Now back on Olympus, Apollo is still wary of his family’s Roman counterparts. He drowns himself in luxuries, hoping to distract from his worries about his brothers and sisters. Who knows what kind of bad decisions a man might make in this scenario?!? (*cough* Commodus *cough*). 

And that’s my full timeline so far!! If there’s anything y’all have questions about (Any missing myths, questions about why I put things were) I’d be happy to answer! I put a lot of work into this, so I hope y’all like it!

[scorpiuslucci]

Romeo scowled on his way out of Hyde's stupid fucking office. He didn't care that Ritsu trotted to keep up, pestering him further about the Laurel Crown and probation and contract and on and on until his watch alarm chirped to let him know he was off the clock for the day and he evaporated.

Romeo scowled all the way out of the main building, across campus, to Obscuary, along the twisting forest paths, through the gate, then the door, then the entrance to Rui's bar.

Rui was more or less accustomed to this by now, but his chipper demeanor could hardly be contained. "Hey, Romi! Got some sparkling wine made fresh, just for y-"

"Vodka."

Rui blinked, still stuck at where he'd been cut off mid-sentence. "...what?"

"Vodka, Rui. Real, actual, wash-this-fucking-day-away alcohol."

Rui recovered with the grace of an Olympic gymnast. "Oh! Right! Must've misheard you. Umm...gimme a minute." He ducked into the basement for a few beats before returning with an unassuming bottle.

Romeo was taking a distinctly ungentlemanly approach to this, but by the time the mouth of the bottle met his, he had really stopped caring. Rui, to his credit, did not appear remotely fazed.

"I'll, um, check in on you later. Oh, hey, Leo!" He directed his dazzling smile toward the first-year.

Romeo's fiery gaze cut across the room to search for his friend's comparatively laid-back expression as he casually strolled into the bar. He jerked his chin in the direction of the seat next to him. Over here, Kurosagi. Now.

@ficoandleo

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Flying Changes - Chapter Four

A Nessian Equestrian Fic

Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Read on AO3 or below!

Horses

CW: Mentions of alcohol abuse and drunk driving, mentions of family members being hurt bc of addiction. Cassian is indeed an ass in this one. So is Mor.

“Look, Nesta. You got yourself into this. You’re the one who drove drunk to the cemetery last month where you knew your sisters would be there. It’s almost as if you wanted to be caught, falling into a trap they didn’t even set.” He shook his head, looking out the nearby window.

“You’re lucky you didn’t kill someone.” Eris huffed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I know I might be asking for a lot. But I can’t stand it here, Eris.” Nesta said, crossing her arms.

“You’re asking for something that I can’t do. The judge will not lighten your sentence. In fact she may double down. Or better yet throw you in jail.”

“Maybe it would be better.” Nesta mumbled.

Eris rolled his eyes. “My hands are tied. You put yourself behind that wheel. There's no excuse for that in this world.”

Nesta remained silent, her foot tapping against the table’s leg. The probation officer leaned back in the opposing chair staring.

“Sorry chick-a-dee. You should have known better.”

Her eyes raised until she met his gaze. Glaring from her silver blues to his browns. A smirk rolled with his lips. He leaned down, closer to Nesta. “Careful, pup .”

Eris shot a glare at the officer. “Watch your tone, Bellius. That’s my client you’re speaking to.”

Bellius lifted his hands up in mock surrendering. “Sorry, Eris. Bitch got my tongue and all.”

Nesta snarled shooting up from her chair, but Eris caught her wrists before she could do anything. 

He leant down to her ear. “If you want a punishment worse than what you have now, by all means, continue.”

Feeling Bellius’ stare, Nesta yanked her wrist from Eris’ grasp.

“I’m done for today.” 

Nesta marched out of the tackroom in a silvery blaze.

**

Bits of the citrus peel came under Nesta’s nails as she finished peeling the clementine. Eating one at a time, Nesta took out her phone, shuffling a playlist to listen to. Her head bobbed to “Stone Mother” by Joise & Laurel. The folky country music played in her earbuds where cellos and violins made art with their bows. Drums in the back and piano as the melody she sang along softly to the music. The sound helped soften her thoughts from earlier with Eris and Bellius. It was something she didn’t want to think about; how she ended up here.

Looking up, Nesta watched the horses from the therapy barn graze. By now she was learning who was who despite not working with them. The two terrasen cove horses were Sundrop and Starlight.They trotted around the area, playfully annoying one another. At first glance it wasn’t easy to tell who was who, but if she looked closely, Starlight’s forelock was a brownish color compared to the rest of his mane that was whitish blond like Sundrop’s.

Grazing near the pasture fence was the nidaros draught named Betty. Cassian mentioned he wanted to call her Betty Brown Eyes but everyone vetoed the name. The horse looked up, watching Neta. She could maybe see where Cassian was coming from, however she would not ignite that man’s ego.

The sun was setting in the late August sky as Nesta’s gaze traveled from horse to horse. It was so natural looking at them, studying their markings and their behaviors that she didn’t notice that different music was playing.

Until she heard the soft violins play the instrumental version of a song about a summer’s cruelty. Her eyes widened at the sounds as she remembered it all; riding Flame in the Grand Prix freestyle in her first Olympics at sixteen. Flame performed the piaffe gorgeously, his body in elegant trot. But what stole the show and earned them the bronze medal were the smooth transitions of the flying changes in his canter strides.

Naturally Nesta’s posture changed from muscle memory. Back straightened, eyes forward, hands steady. Her attention was solely on the music so her gaze unfocused from the world around her. Colors of the sky and grass and horses blended together. Her face stayed neutral as if she was still performing.

Then the music stopped as the wire to her earbuds were yanked. Startled, Nesta scrambled to stand, meeting blonde hair and glaring brown eyes. She stood up fully, tucking her phone back in her pocket, the clementine on the ground.

“Can I help you?” Nesta asked.

“You can help the ranch. Breaktime is over.” The woman said.

 Nesta recognized the designer logos on the woman’s outfit and accessories. Who the fuck brought Barbie Karen out here?

“Excuse me, but you don’t order me around.”

“I do when my cousin owns this ranch. I do when my best friend has had to suffer from not just alcoholic parents, but a sister too.”

Guilt slid right to her heart at the mention of her family. Shifting left, Nesta stared at the woman in front of her. She looked oddly familiar, remembering her on Feyre’s instagram. Ranging from posts featuring the City of Starlight to late night stories. Her stomach twirled with slight envy whenever they appeared on her feed. She raised an eyebrow at the woman as she tried to recall her name.

Michelle? Monica?  

Nesta glared. “I don’t know why you’re being such a busybody? And in any case, I follow Cassian’s orders.”

The woman glared right back. “Cass and Az went to the tack shop a few towns over to buy more feed or whatever.” She glanced down at her manicured nails before continuing. “It doesn't matter. Cass put me in charge of you. As a reminder, you were sent here to work. Not to look at ponies all day.”

The guilt dried out as anger brewed over it, swelling in Nesta’s stomach and mind. Her hands curled into fists. As emotions rose, so did the familiar wanting waves of liquor Nesta knew she should ignore.

“Fuck off.” Nesta snapped, her tone bitter to the bite.

The woman stood unphased. “Cassian mentioned you would be stubborn as Rhys’ mule. Get back to work, Nesta.”

Nesta moved back so she was leaning against the nearby tree. “I think I’m quite content to stay right here actually. And clearly you know me, but I don’t know you. Although you seem oddly familiar.” The desire to drink grew with every word she spat.

“I remember my sister hanging out with an alt-righteous bitch. Megan was it?” She spoke without missing a beat.

“It’s Morrigan.” The blonde snarled. “And last time I checked, the alt-righteous bitch was the one who almost killed her own sister by driving drunk.”

Time swirled as Nesta was no longer standing near Morrigan on that damn ranch. No, she was behind the wheel of her car, familiar blue eyes looking at her in fear, wincing for the impact to happen. The guilt rose and overlaid her entire soul as engine smoke blew into her lungs. 

Cold deadly rage bolted Nesta from the tree, her body barely inches from Morrigan.

“You know nothing about that day.”

“I know enough.”

The rage grew sorrowful in its course through Nesta’s heart. Her desire to defend herself lay defeated in between them. Nesta silently walked past Morrigan, bumping her shoulder with the blonde’s.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Morrigan called out.

Nesta stopped, looking over her shoulder. “I can’t stand you if I’m sober.”

She walked away, every step in wrath and grief. As Nesta came near the house, spotting a bay mare trotting around uneasily. Her body language came off as scared almost. Don’t I know the feeling?

Turning her head, Nesta continued walking down the dirt driveway making it all the way to the mailbox before turning on the two way road, heading to the right. Her phone was her only companion whose battery life ran dangerously low as the sky only grew darker.

**

Nesta was unsure how long she was walking for as she made her way down the road. The urge to drink was clutching her throat, needing the taste of smooth cold vodka. Her nails scratched her left arm, trying to suppress the urges that she fed willingly for the last several years. Body aches and a pounding headache merged not long after, her symptoms starting to come back in high tide.

Fuck that bitch. Fuck Morrigan. She doesn’t know anything. None of them do! Nesta thought to herself as her mind stayed focused on all of these thoughts. Her guilt had drained entirely but only to be replaced with anger. It was like this for years, no one knowing the truth, and Nesta knew she shouldn’t be surprised, but it bothered her. It bothered her to her bones, as they carried her trauma.

A car going the opposite direction came over a hill, its headlights blinding Nesta for a moment where she walked on the narrow shoulder. Large fields were all that she could make out as she stopped walking. A slow dread curled into the pit of her stomach. Where the hell was she?

She peered up to the sky, the once oranges and pinks and purples were now the shades of blackish blues. The sky was littered with stars, however their names she never could recall. Feyre was always good at remembering the constellations, their names and where they were in the sky.

The thought of her baby sister made the pit grow bigger, anchoring her to the stop. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to think of Feyre. Reaching into her pocket, Nesta drew out her phone that’s battery was at five percent. Panic strode deep within her, hands shaking. Quickly Nesta unlocked her cracked screen, moving on autopilot as she found the last number she called that was several weeks ago. The phone dialed, her anxiety growing.

I shouldn’t have called. She’s busy. She has her life. She doesn’t need me. But I–

“Hello?” A voice Nesta recognized far too well spoke on the other line.

Nesta struggled to speak, but her anxiety pushed through with a tail flare of courage. “Ellie?”

An old nickname for her first younger sister. Growing up they called each other Nessie and Ellie, a duo that survived their mother’s laws and father’s absences. The other day she didn’t want to think of her, but now she clung to her sister’s voice in this endless sea of darkness.

“Are you drunk?” Elain accused.

Startled by the accusation, Nesta’s pitch shot high. “W-what? No. Listen it’s a long story, but I walked off the ranch and my phone is dying-” 

“What!? Where are you, Nesta? What are you even thinking? Are you asking to join our parents now?”

Hurt slammed into Nesta like the wind was knocked out of her. But she pushed it down, all the way to the rage she grew familiar with living with. The rage everyone saw.

“Fuck you, Elain. I was just trying to talk to you.”

“Well excuse me for not knowing the difference. I don’t think I’ve spoken to you sober in almost two years, Nesta.” She sighed before continuing. “And the last several times you called, all you did was apologize to me while drunk.”

“You got yourself into this mess, Nesta. Figure out how to get back on your own.”

Her words ironically mirrored Nesta's conversation with Eris. Before she could hiss or cry out, the line went dead. Nesta pulled her phone away from her ear, the black screen filling the void. Numbly, Nesta walked, her anxiety and hurt and rage clung to the ground making her steps heavy as she pushed forward.

Her eyes stung with tears as Nesta continued walking. She sniffed, hoping to bottle these feelings away. She hated crying. Hated looking weak. Hated how she could be taken advantage of with tears. As sadness brewed into a simmering rage, she suddenly stopped. Lights of a nearby store shined, an open sign flashing in the corner of the window. Then it hit her.

“I also live down the road from the House of Wind. I run the general store down the way. If you make a right out of the ranch and keep going down, you’ll find my place eventually.”

Before Nesta knew it, she was running. Her lungs heaved at the sudden exercise as Nesta pushed open the door, almost falling face first into the wooden floor. Trying to regain her breath, Nesta gazed around the shop area. There was a counter filled with crops probably from local farmers. Nearby was an entire shelf dedicated to the local honey, ranging from honey in a bottle to honeycombs. On the other side was local pet food and toys. There were a few spots that held snacks and drinks for customers.

As Nesta approached the cashier counter, news clippings of barrel races that were so old the paper was an ugly hue of a brownish yellow. There were actual photos along with magazine cut outs. Then in an old wooden frame behind the counter was a photo of a woman who looked like Emerie. Her smile was big as she stood next to a bay colored horse. The horse wore western tack as it seemed genuinely content with the woman.

“We’re about to close, so make it fast–Nesta?” A voice came out from a nearby backroom. Her new friend stood with her hair in a braid like the other day. Emerie lifted the hatched to cut through to the store area.

“What are you doing here? I thought you said that you were…what’s wrong?”

Nesta shook her head, but felt the sting of water in her eyes threatening to fall. She rubbed her eyes roughly, pushing the tears away. She took a breath, then another one. Her hand still over her eyes as she spoke.

“I..I got lost.” She sheepishly shrugged. “Didn’t want to be alone.” She mumbled the last part.

There was weight on her free hand. Pulling the hand away from her face, Nesta cast her gaze downwards. Emerie’s hand laid on top of her’s.

“These roads can get pretty scary at night if you’re not familiar.” Emerie said, before pulling her hand away, ushering Nesta to the backroom. With a little encouragement, Nesta stepped forward going. Most of the room was taken up by shelves, back-stock items. At the end of the room was a desk with a computer and a phone.

“Make yourself at home.” Emerie pointed to a chair as she walked to the desk.

Nesta sat comfortably in the cozy armchair. It was worn down by the years with scratch marks and stains, but the golden velvet stood out like a sore thumb. It was the brightest item in the room, possibly on the store level. Nesta raised an eyebrow at the chair.

Emerie grinned at her expression. “I live upstairs, but sometimes I like to read down here when the shop is closed. My dad’s family has had this shop for decades. My mom helped with this store ‘til the day she died.”

Her brows furrowed, lost in a memory. A moment passed before Emerie spoke again. “He wasn’t a good father or husband, but that chair was the one thing he allowed my mom to have.” Emerie shrugged. “Having the chair here is like having her down here too.”

Glancing down at the chair, Nesta’s fingers traced the left armrest. Her gaze returned to Emerie as her new friend stared at her own tattoo on her arm. Emerie traced the words inked into her skin.

“It was something she said to me every day, even on the day she died. ‘I love you Emerie, more than the mountains, the moon, and Mars .’” Emerie’s voice cracked slightly when she finished the quote.

“I’m sorry about your mom.” Nesta’s mother appeared in her mind. Her stare mirrored Nesta's eyes, watching with unrestrained coldness. Rubbing her arms, Nesta tried to draw warmth from the friction of her hands.

“Thank you. Also I’m sorry, I tend to leave the AC blasting down here all of the time.” Emerie apologized as she tossed a blanket from a nearby basket.

Nesta caught the thow, noticing all of the different horses scattered around. A similar one flashed from a childhood memory. Quietly, she breathed looking back up.

“Is your dad still around?”

Emerie laughed, although there was little evidence of humor. “No. He died two years ago. Had a heart attack while running the store…When I found him.” Emerie tapped her fingers against the desk, shifting. “It was like a weight had been lifted.”

Nesta moved so she sat cross-legged underneath the blanket, mindful to slip off her boots beforehand. “I felt similar when my mother died. I was already traveling to shows by then, but when my dad called me to tell the news, I felt…I felt clear, if you ever felt that before.”

Emerie nodded. “I have.”

Standing up, Emerie opened the mini fridge near her desk. She pulled out two glass bottles that resembled beer. Nesta voiced concerns, but stopped short when Emerie handed one to her, a colorful label she’s never seen before. 

Cola Cold  - originally made Smite Hill.

“Smite Hill?” Nesta puzzled, staring at the logo.

“It’s a small town south of here. They’re not friendly, as you could guess by the name, but they make all sorts of craft sodas and strangely enough neat rabbit statues.” 

Emerie took a sip. “Their cola is far by the best in the world. And it’s a twist cap, so don’t even worry about asking for a bottle opener.”

Nesta hummed, twisting the cap off.

The first sip hit her with something fizzy, sweet, tangy, and maybe even citrusy. 

A small smile appeared as she took another sip.

“See? It’s good.”

“It’s fine.”

“Liar!” Emerie grinned.

The two smiled at one another, clanking their bottles together.

After a moment, Emerie asked. “You wanna tell me how you got here?”

Nesta took a sip of the soda. “Not really, I don’t wanna talk about me right now.”

Emerie didn’t push, taking the hint. Settling into her desk chair, she reached for a book near the computer when Nesta gasped.

“Is that The Seven Lords and Me ?”

“You know Sellyn Drake?” Emerie’s eyes sparkled with a devilish delight.

“I’ve only read that one from her. What else do you recommend?”

“Oh Nesta Archeon, you have no idea of the pandora box you just opened.”

As the truck turned off, Cassian had an uneasy feeling nestled inside him. Everything was fine up until Azriel and him were on their way back from the store for horse feed and other necessities for the barns. He spotted Mor’s convertible in the lot in front of the house. Grabbing the bags from the tailgate, Cassian began walking to the therapy barn first. He winced slightly with the added weight on his shoulder.

But as he walked, Cassian didn’t see the braided golden brown hair he’s grown familiar with over the last two weeks.The newest horse over in the corral was moving uneasily. She kept trotting and cantering, changing her gaits.

Where was Nesta?

“Cass?” A feminine voice called out. 

Cassian turned to see Mor coming out of the house.

“Hi Mor. What’s up? Have you seen Nesta?”

Mor picked at her nails. “You didn’t see her on your way home?”

“On the way home?” Cassian shook his head. “What the fuck happened, Mor?”

“I asked her to finish her break and return to work. It’s what she’s here to do after all. We got into a little spat, and then…” The words trailed off as her hands struggled to empathize. 

“Then what, Morrigan?” 

It was rare for Mor’s full name to be used within the family. It was even rarer from Cassian.

Mor disappointedly shook her head, caught off guard by the use of her full name. “I don’t know…She said something like going to drink or something. Then she just walked off the ranch.”

The world froze as Cassian’s mind went over everything that Mor just said to him.

“And you…You, you didn’t stop her?”

“I didn’t think she was serious and then 15 minutes went by, and…I’m not sure where she went...”

Panic rustled in his chest. “Alright, and you saw her walk out the ranch, not anywhere else?” He shifted, handing Mor the feed. “And here, put this food in the barn. Just leave them inside the feed room. I’ll get to it later.”

Mor grunted, the heaviness catching her slightly off balance. “Where are you going?” 

“To find Nesta. Unless you want to call Feyre on how you lost her sister.”

His friend quickly turned around, heading to the barn. 

His foot tapped, thinking.

Nesta couldn’t have gone far…Downtown is about a twenty minute walk from here. It’s the closest place to buy a drink.. 

Cassian pulled out his phone, calling her. It went straight to voicemail.

“Shit.” He dialed a second time, but was left with the voicemail again. He sighed as he stayed on the line.

“Hey Sweetheart, I don’t know where you are, but you need to get your butt back over here at the ranch…I’ll see you soon.”

His hand pulled at the ponytail from the half-up half-down look. Biting his lip, Cassian raced through his options. He could call the cops, but that could make everything worse for Nesta. And after her AA meeting earlier in the week, she seemed to be doing a little better. Was this all for nothing? His other hand hovered over Rhys’ name in his contacts.

Fear brewed as Cassian recalled that he had faced this before, losing someone out in the field during a battle. But what started as a rescue assignment turned into a recovery mission. The fallen soldier was eventually found far out west of the base. The state of his body…Cassian shook his head, not wanting to relive it again.

I’m not there anymore. He took a deep breath before running up to the house. As he ran, Azriel came flying out of the door.

“Emerie just called.” Azriel said, sounding a little breathless.

“Emerie as in Rip’s daughter, Emerie?” Cassian questioned.

“The only Emerie we both know who has the ranch’s number. Nesta’s with her.”

Cassian blinked, the shocked settling in. “She knew how to get there?”

Azriel shrugged. “Maybe Emerie mentioned it at AA. But we can discuss that later.”

The brothers hopped into the truck before taking off down the road.

**

The door to the truck flew open as Cassian jumped out. Standing on the store’s porch was Nesta. Behind her stood Emerie. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Cassian shouted. Frustration and worried mixed, but it was only anger that dripped from his words. His gaze titled down, finding two glass bottles on the ground.

Cassian’s body shook, unable to hide his wrath. “You were drinking?!” 

Nesta looked down, not saying anything. Her arms crossed over her chest.

“Nesta, get in the truck.” Azriel called out, climbing out the driver seat. His black stetson hat blended with the night sky.

Nesta didn’t look back as she got in through the passenger door side, sliding to the middle. Cassian began to sneer when Azriel approached him.

Emerie glared at Cassian. “She was with me the entire time, Valyrian. She hasn’t had one sip. You know this is a dry store.”

Azriel nodded, picking up one of the bottles. “We would’ve smelled the alcohol on her. This is pop. She isn’t drunk, Cass.” His tone was almost a warning to his brother.

Cassian wrestled trying to find the right words. His ears shaded pink in embarrassment.  “I’m sorry, Emerie.” He stood as the regret of his words sunk deep. “Thank you for looking out for her.” He spoke gently to Emerie. “I’m sorry that I yelled and accused her of drinking.”

Emerie rolled her eyes. “I don’t care that you yelled, I care that you accused my friend. And more importantly you should be apologizing to her. Not the other way around, General .” Cassian’s old nickname from high school rolled off her tongue like it was nothing.

Cassian mumbled, agreeing with Emerie before he and Azriel got back into the truck.

The truck ride home was the most silent 2 minute car drive Cassian had ever been on. Not soon enough they pulled up onto the long driveway. Cassian didn’t spot the red car in the lot anymore. Mor must have left then. Probably for the best..

The three left the truck. Nesta stormed away, heading to the house. Cassian started to follow, reaching for her hand, but Azriel stepped in front of him, blocking his path. At this angle he could see the slight differences in their height.

“Leave her alone tonight. It’s been a long day for everyone. Talk to her in the morning.”

Cassian sighed, his anxiety spiking. 

“Let’s take care of the horses for now. It’ll distract you.” Azriel moved past him, but soon turned around. 

“You may also want to take your lessons and learn from them. Whatever you said about the damn horse in the corral, apply it to Nesta. She’s not broken, but no one becomes an alcoholic for shits and giggles. You of all people should know that.”

Cassian grimaced, the toll of his emotions from the evening wearing him down like rocks under water. He felt his brother’s hand on his good shoulder.  

“Let her come to you, Cass. When she’s ready.”

“When did you become the smart one?” Cassian questioned, cocking his head to the side.

His brother let go of his shoulder, heading towards the barns.

As Azriel walked he called out. “I have two very idiotic brothers. Someone has to be the smart one out of the three of us.”

Cassian agonized replaying the moments with Nesta in his mind. The emotion was so much, the dull familiar pain in his shoulder ached. He groaned, massaging his bad shoulder. The chronic aching had returned like clockwork. 

Glancing up the meadow of stars above him, a soft voice called out from his memory. The voice felt almost like it was from a different lifetime, combing through the ridges of his childhood.

“Today was bad, Cassian. But that means tomorrow can be better.”

Cassian turned, his gaze settling onto the mare in the corral. She wasn’t pacing as much, but she refused to stand still. Her big brown eyes watched him, as if something or someone was communicating with him.

“And if the next day is bad, you don’t give in. Keep reaching for tomorrow.”

Tag List (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @chairofchaos @blueunoias @velarisdusk @c-e-d-dreamer @jsmelodies @inkedinshadows @wolfnesta @lilah-asteria @highqueenmorrigan @daughter-of-lethe

[drabsyo]

Fleurmione Week Day 4: Ancient Greece (olympics!au)

💙Inspired by Sun and Laurels by waxwing_Saint on ao3

for @sosh022 and @waxwing-saint. Thank you for all that you do ❤

[tylermileslockett]

Heracles 7: Other Notable Feats

         According to Diodorus and Apollodorus, Heracles has many other notable adventures and achievements during his quests to fulfill his labors. Some of these events (but certainly not all), are as follows:

         The 1st Olympic games: After capturing the Cretan bull, Diodorus tells us that Heracles Founded the first Olympic games in honor of his father Zeus. Heracles chose the laurel wreath crown as the prize and, as is fitting his demigod prowess, won first place in every event!

         The gifts of the gods: Diodorus also lists the boons gifted to Heracles by the gods upon return from his labors: a robe from Athena, war club from Hephaestus, horses from Poseidon, a sword from Hermes, bow and arrows from Apollo, and the Lesser mysteries, instituted by Demeter to purify him of the Centaurs murders.

         The rescue of Prometheus: The titan Prometheus, for stealing fire from Zeus and gifting it to mortals, was punished by being bound to a mountain rock and having the giant Caucasian Eagle come and peck out his regenerating liver every day. Heracles, coming upon this tragic figure, shoots down the eagle with his arrows, rescues the titan, and persuades his father to calm his anger for Prometheus’s transgressions.

         To get a deeper look into his further adventures during these times, I urge the reader to review the section on Heracles in Diodorus’ Library of History and Apollodorus’ The Library. Many more feats are listed such as Killing the Libyan giant Antaeus in a wrestling match, constructing the Pillars of Heracles to mark the end of the known world, fighting the giants of the earth with the help of the gods in modern day Italy, praying for divine intervention in the bothersome sounds of crickets at night, escaping capture and being a sacrificial victim in Egypt by King Busiris, amongst many other episodes.

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[gabessquishytum]

OK, so I was inspired by that Ancient Greece Olympics ask someone else threw your way. What about that… but this is still Dream of the Endless? Maybe Calliope begs and begs for him to attend one with her. She wears him down eventually and there he is, sitting with her somewhere in the stands, watching.

He’s mostly uninterested, watching the competition and humming whenever Calliope starts talking about the competitors or a particularly impressive move or throw or what have you. Then, the most gorgeous man with the best pecs he’s seen in eons walks up. He’s all oiled up, to wrestle. Calliope goes silent beside him. He slowly turns to her. She slowly turns to him. Perhaps…

Suddenly they’re talking over each other, but the sentiment is the same. They really, really wouldn’t mind that one between them in bed. If he agrees, of course.

AKSKSJAJA yes!!!! I love it when couples bond over the guy they mutually want to bang <333 It makes sense that Calliope would have an interest in the Olympics as poetry was also a part of the festival!

Hob is not a poet, but he is an athlete, and he looks incredible with all his bronzed skin shining and on display. His tits bounce when he throws the javelin and his nipples are a mouthwatering red that attracts many interested glances. That's to say nothing of his firm buttocks, thick thighs and cock, all of which are on display for the crowd.

When the competition is over and the laurels have been awarded, Calliope and Dream have no shame in essentially kidnapping Hob. One minute he's chatting with his buddies, next minute he's standing in a beautiful green glade with an equally beautiful woman draped all over him. But since he's grown up hearing about mortals being kidnapped by gods every other day, he pretty much takes it in his stride.

He's got Calliope straddling one thigh and Dream straddling the other, and the two of them barely bother to introduce themselves before they're alternating between composing poetry on the subject of his tits..... and kissing as many intimate parts of him as they can reach.

So Hob may not have won the laurels, but frankly he doesn't care: he's got two immortal mouths slurping on his cock, and he gets the impression that they intend to keep him...

[ask-half-blood-hill]

Demigod Gossip #1

Ever wanted in on the latest gossip of Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter? Well, you've come to the right place! Today, in the latest gossip:

Camp Activities:

Athena team wins Capture the Flag! Congrats to team blue!

The Apollo cabin hosts a slam poetry competition, which is surprisingly won by Laurel Radler from the Ares cabin! Congrats!

The Athena cabin bands together with the Nike cabin to host a 'Brief History of the Olympics' seminar, along with some sports demonstrations. The Apollo cabin did not participate in the discus throw.

Hebe campers are hosting a 50% off spa day every week this summer! Check out the sign board in front of their cabin for more details!

Myra from the Apollo cabin will be hosting healing and first aid classes, free for everyone! They will be announced at dinner.

Three new campers arrive! Congrats, to all of you!

Camper Gossip:

Cassius Hanover from the Hypnos cabin and Jada Alawi from the Dionysus cabin have started dating! Good luck to you two, lovebirds!

Nathan Solas from the Hebe cabin has changed up his hair color! You look awesome with black hair, Nathan!

Andrea Cornell from the Iris cabin has accidentally changed the colors of Jasper's jacket. Please, steer clear of the Hades cabin for the time being.

Jasper Graves from the Hades cabin is visiting camp this week, so expect to see him around. Seems he's pretty friendly with the new Apollo camper, Ren!

Ren Takayama accidentally spills molten iron on the floor of the arts and crafts building, causing a hole to form. Repairs are underway, and should be done in the next two days!

Valentine Merriweather and Arthur Laguna prepare to leave for Camp Jupiter in the next two weeks!

Rumor has it that the oracle has sent a new prophecy to the camp director! Maybe we'll see a new quest soon?

[uboat53]

Well, it's the Olympics in the age of trans panic and I'm sure you can guess what that means. With that in mind, a few thoughts about gender and sport.

Okay, let's talk about the specific event that touched this off, Italy's Angela Carini abandoned a boxing match with Algeria's Imane Khelif after only 46 seconds, citing Khelif's strength and power. Some of the less reputable people in politics and media then began to speculate that she had some gender advantage despite having passed a gender and drug test which would have discovered something.

Look, let's get this out of the way at the start, Imane Khelif is a woman. She was born a girl and matured into a woman. She lives in and competes for a country where gender transition is illegal and there's no indication to any reasonable person that she's anything other than a woman who is very good at boxing. Perhaps she has some genetics that help her but, let's face it, every single athlete capable of competing at the Olympic level does; no one complained that Michael Phelp's low production of lactic acid was an unfair advantage! The only reason that there's any "controversy" at all is that people have this ingrained idea that women should NOT be too good at boxing.

And, ultimately, that's the biggest problem with this whole gender panic. There are three (count 'em, three) transgender athletes in the Olympics this year, Canada's Quinn (soccer), New Zealand's Laurel Hubbard (weightlifting), and the US's Chelsea Wolfe (BMX Freestyle - Reserve). Every other athlete in the Olympics was born in their assigned gender and has been tested as such in order to compete.

So why are people panicking about trans athletes? Simple, because their ideas about gender do not match the reality. Not every woman is physically smaller and weaker than every man, not every man has a hulking physique, and there is no clear dividing line between the testosterone levels of women and men. There's also racism at work, African and Middle Eastern women tend to have facial features associated with masculinity in the west while Asian men tend to have facial features associated with femininity in the west making it easy for white audiences without exposure to minorities to assume the worst.

Ultimately, though, the problem is this idea of a sharp gender binary as if men and women were two clearly different species with no overlap between them. Let's say this as clearly as possible: there is no way to define "woman" in a way that excludes all trans women and includes all cisgender women. There is simply too much overlap between men and women; biologically speaking, mammals in general have very small gender differences compared to other groups of species such as insects or certain groups of fish (look up the differences between male and female spiders or anglerfish sometime, THAT'S a gender binary).

What that means is that, no matter how you try to define "woman" or "man", you will always end up with a category that includes some people who every reasonable person would consider to be the opposite.

So here's the question I think we all need to answer before we go any further: what is the purpose of separating sports by gender? Is it so that inferior female athletes can get medals that would be denied to them by superior male athletes? Is it to reinforce our cultural gender norms? Is it another way to divide the competition for fairness like weight classes in boxing?

I suspect that different people have different answers to that question and, until we settle on a universal answer, athletes (who, by the way, are pretty much all outside of the averages for their age and gender by definition) are going to continue to be caught in the crossfire of one of the worst arguments to dominate our society.

[rickybaby]

What a sham of a spectacle … awarding the Olympics laurel to the UNHCR when the whole world stayed quiet when Israel was bombing the people working for the very same organisation.

[sirfrogsworth]

If someone is allowed to compete, they should be allowed the chance to win.

These stories only happen when a trans athlete gets 1st place. They never run stories when they place 45th--which Tiffany has done.

I think all any athlete wants is fair competition.

They don't want to be matched up with someone they could never ever beat.

Despite the wish for people in sports to be competitively matched, there have always been outliers. People with such amazing athletic ability they can rarely be touched. And as far as my research has shown, all of those outliers have been cisgender.

People like Michael Phelps, Serena Williams, Babe Ruth, Mike Tyson, Shohei Ohtani, Usain Bolt, Wayne Gretzky, Michael Jordan, LeBron James, etc. They all have various biological advantages that helped them dominate their sports. Yet people do not try to ban them from playing--rather they praise their genetic luck.

Biological advantages like extreme height, insane lung capacity, giant wingspan, and whatever speed force Usain Bolt is tapped into... these advantages pop up all the time for cis athletes.

I have yet to see a trans athlete completely dominate in the way some of these outliers have done. And I don't know of any transgender athletes that have not lost to their cisgender competitors at some point.

I could only find two people who came close to outlier status with decent winning streaks. Fallon Fox did win 5 of 6 fights, but that is such a small sample size I'm not sure she could be considered an outlier. And Laurel Hubbard did win a bunch of Olympic gold medals in weightlifting, but she was only ranked 7th in the IWF's +87 kg division previous to that. Which makes me think she just put in the work and earned those gold medals through grit and determination. An Olympic story we've seen many times with cis athletes.

So you have one or maybe two trans athletes that did well above average for a short period of time.

And that means "the end of women's sports is nigh"?

The fact that no trans athlete has consistently dominated any sport as of yet, and that they are routinely beaten by their cisgender competitors, makes me think trans athletes have held up to the standard of challenging yet fair competition.

The very thing spectators and athletes crave.

[the-olympics-olympics]

Calgary 1988

Obverse: Event logo with host details surrounding it. Reverse: Two people, one wearing a laurel and the other wearing a headdress made up of winter sports equipment

Chamonix 1924

Obverse: A skier holding skates and skis and the designer's name. Reverse: Written information about the Games

[asterixlabs]

Best of Asterix Seeding/Interest Polls

Seeding/Interest Polls will be going live tomorrow March 14th at 6AM EST! On each poll will be open for a week where you rate the album/movie/series out of 5 based on how much you like it. At the end of the polling period I'll seed them based on the total number of points (those with higher points will seed better). Any ties will be broken based on my original judgement on how I think they'll perform.

As a note, this blog will be posting polls for quite some time going forward. If you aren't interested in this tournament, please mute the #best of asterix tag.

The list of the different options to vote for is below, I'll attach links to their interest polls once they go live (not in seeding order)!

Mainline comics:

Asterix the Gaul (BD)

Asterix and the Golden Sickle (BD)

Asterix and the Goths (BD)

Asterix the Gladiator (BD)

Asterix and the Banquet (BD)

Asterix and Cleopatra (BD)

Asterix and the Big Fight (BD)

Asterix in Britain (BD)

Asterix and the Normans (BD)

Asterix the Legionary (BD)

Asterix and the Chieftain's Shield (BD)

Asterix at the Olympic Games (BD)

Asterix and the Cauldron (BD)

Asterix in Spain (BD)

Asterix and the Roman Agent (BD)

Asterix in Switzerland (BD)

The Mansions of the Gods (BD)

Asterix and the Laurel Wreath (BD)

Asterix and the Soothsayer (BD)

Asterix in Corsica (BD)

Asterix and Caesar's Gift (BD)

Asterix and the Great Crossing (BD)

Obelix and Co. (BD)

Asterix in Belgium (BD)

Asterix and the Great Divide (BD)

Asterix and the Black Gold (BD)

Asterix and Son (BD)

Asterix and the Magic Carpet (BD)

Asterix and the Secret Weapon (BD)

Asterix and Obelix All at Sea (BD)

Asterix and the Actress (BD)

Asterix and the Class Act (BD)

Asterix and the Falling Sky (BD)

Asterix and Obelix's Birthday: The Golden Book (BD)

Asterix and the Picts (BD)

Asterix and the Missing Scroll (BD)

Asterix and the Chariot Race (BD)

Asterix and the Chieftain's Daughter (BD)

Asterix and the Griffin (BD)

Asterix and the White Iris (BD)

Movies, picture books, and spinoffs:

How Obelix Fell into the Magic Potion When he was a Little Boy (picture book)

Deux Romains en Gaule (movie)

Asterix the Gaul (animated movie)

Asterix and Cleopatra (animated movie)

The Twelve Tasks of Asterix (animated movie)

Asterix Versus Caesar (animated movie)

Asterix in Britain (animated movie)

Asterix and the Big Fight (animated movie)

Asterix Conquers America (animated movie)

Asterix and Obelix vs. Caesar (live action movie)

Asterix & Obelix: Mission Cleopatra (live cation movie)

Asterix and the Vikings (animated movie)

Asterix at the Olympic Games (live action movie)

Asterix and Obelix: God Save Britannia (live action movie)

Asterix: The Mansions of the Gods (animated movie)

Asterix: The Secret of the Magic Potion (animated movie)

Asterix & Obelix: The Middle Kingdom (live action movie)

Dogmatix & the Indomitables (cartoon series)

Adventures of Dogmatix (picture book series)

Idéfix et les Irréductibles: Pas de quartier pour le latin! (BD)

Idéfix et les Irréductibles: Les Romains se prennent une gamelle! (BD)

Idéfix et les Irréductibles: Ça balance pas mal à Lutèce! (BD)

Idéfix et les Irréductibles: Les irréductibles font leur cirque (BD)

Idéfix et les Irréductibles: Idéfix et le druide (BD)