#so just as your heroic deeds and victories will be larger. so too will your fuckups and flaws

[lord-squiggletits]

After I write that new IDW Optimus meta, the next one is gonna be a post of "why I really hate that theory about Rodimus being a better Prime than Optimus and how it doesn't even match the themes of IDW OR canon fact about how the Matrix functions."

But the TLDR that I feel like encapsulates where a lot of this fanwank comes from, is that I feel like ppl don't properly appreciate that the context of Optimus and Rodimus' leaderships are extremely different.

Like, Rodimus only led a ship of about 200+ people. This means that the scale of his leadership responsibilities and the risks/consequences/stakes of his actions as leader were much smaller in scale. However, it also means that just because he only led one ship of people doesn't mean that his choices weren't important/weren't indicative of his personal character (that is to say, just bc it was only one ship doesn't mean that it had no meaning or significance at all).

On the other hand, Optimus led an entire freaking army over a 4 million year war that arose from political tensions that began even before he/most of the people in the war were born. That means that the consequences of his leadership had extremely far reaching consequences no matter what he did, which grants him a large degree of culpability/blame for his actions. HOWEVER, it must also be said that under the pressure of fighting an impossible war, just because OP wasn't able to "stop it sooner" doesn't mean that he was a morally bad/incompetent leader, because a whole galactic war is such a huge burden that one person can't possibly stop it or influence/control everything to make the most morally correct and peace-causing decisions.

TLDR can we please stop pitting Optimus and Rodimus against each other when the contexts of them being leaders was so vastly different (and they had such different leadership styles in general) that you can't really say "who's the better leader" without minimizing either of their accomplishments/magnifying their respective flaws.

Also, canonically speaking the Matrix can be wielded by anyone who's confident/at peace/self-righteous enough to believe they're worthy of it, which was shown not only by the ending of LL where a bunch of regular ass crewmates were able to use copies of the Matrix, but by the fact that the first Prime/ruler of Cybertron Nova Prime was a massive piece of shit who colonized people, yet was still a Matrix bearer who wielded the true/original Matrix.

And also Primus is literally Just Some Guy and not some omnipotent god who's an objective arbiter of morality that can point at a guy and go "YOU are the Specialest Boy Ever and are Divinely Mandated To Be A Good person"

So the entire premise of why ppl even make theories and debate about this is beyond me lol. In IDW1 the Matrix is more of a social/cultural symbol than it is an actual measurer of morality, which is in line with IDW1's consistent themes of challenging the inherent rightness of authority

#squiggposting #like frex i wouldn't say rod is inherently a worse leader just bc OP was a general and he wasn't #not every good leader needs to be The Top Leader In Charge and small scale impacts are important in their own way #likewise i wouldn't say that OP is inherently a worse leader because bigger and badder things happened under his leadership #bc the problem is that when you're a leader of a whole ass army the scale of all of your actions is much larger #so just as your heroic deeds and victories will be larger. so too will your fuckups and flaws #OP and Rod are also both good people with good intentions so like #which one of them is a 'better person' is generally subjective and more up to how you individually measure their virtues/vices #meta #i mean literally one of the central sources of conflict in idw1 (functionism) was put into place by a religious body #sooooooo why is it ppl are using the matrix as a religious justification for who The Best Prime is? #like bud the last time cybertronians used religion/alleged godhood as justification for their leader/government #they invented a fucking caste system and colonized the galaxy #even if the matrix had some divine power to objectively decide on Moral Goodness it's kind of a shit judge of character

[razieltwelve]

The Hamster (Fate/Stay Night/Final Effect)

There were a great many timelines where Rin Tohsaka’s attempt to summon a Sabre went awry. This was one of them. It was also the only timeline in which she summoned a hamster.

Fortunately for Rin, however, it was no ordinary hamster.

X     X     X

Rin assumed she must have done something absolutely awful in a past life. It was the only way to explain how she’d summoned a hamster as her Servant in the Grail War. Sure, the little guy was incredibly adorable, but what on earth was she supposed to do with him? If the situation weren’t so dire, she might actually have laughed. As it was, she wanted to cry.

She probably would have too, if an enemy Servant hadn’t chosen that exact moment to ambush her on her way home from school.

“You might want to duck,” Professor Cuddleborough drawled.

By some miracle of magic, Rin could understand the hamster she’d summoned. From what she’d seen so far, he was cute, cuddly, and came with a dry sense of humour. He also had good instincts.

She ducked.

And a spear went through the space her head had occupied a split-second later.

“Not bad,” Lancer said as Rin rolled away and then leapt back to put some distance between them. “But I’m afraid this is where the Grail War ends for you.” He shrugged and gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry but my master’s orders were quite clear. It’s a pity you’ve only got a hamster to fight for you. I would have liked a challenge, but orders are orders.” He took up a fighting stance. “I’ll make it quick. I can do that much.”

“Hmmm…” Professor Cuddleborough hopped out of her pocket and landed on the ground in front of her. “You might want to take as step back, Rin.”

“What? Why?” Rin’s heart was beating so fast she was afraid she was going to faint. The only thing standing between her and certain death was a hamster! She was so screwed.

“Because I’m about to show you what makes me different from a normal hamster.” Professor Cuddleborough struck a pose. “For I am no mere hamster… I am… a war hamster!”

“A war hamster?” Rin wailed. “What does that even me?”

Lancer blurred forward…

There was a flash of light, and the Servant was suddenly flying backward. He flew through the air, smashing through a streetlight before continuing to tumble end over end until he hit the next streetlight and thudded to a stop in the wall behind it, hitting the wall with enough force to leave a crater in it.

“Hmmm…” Professor Cuddleborough’s voice was suddenly much deeper… and he was much larger. Instead of the cute and cuddly hamster that had spent the day in Rin’s pocket, he was now the size of a tank and covered in advanced power armour that absolutely bristled with weaponry. Lowering the enormous paw he’d used to bat Lancer away like a pingpong ball, the colossal hamster gave a sound of acknowledgement. “Not bad. You were able to block with your spear at the last moment. Otherwise, I’d have ripped you in half.”

Far away, Lancer stumbled to his feet. His chest was a mangled wreck, and his spear bore the marks of huge claws. Somehow, though, he managed to retain an air of confidence.

“Oh? A giant hamster? I can’t say I’ve ever faced one before.” Lancer chuckled. “I’ll admit you took me by surprise. But you’re no mere beast. That strike wasn’t simply powerful and swift… your technique was excellent.”

Professor Cuddleborough chuckled. “Well, you’re definitely one of the better spearmen I’ve faced in my life although I’d have to fight you properly to see how you really rank.” He stomped on the ground, and the concrete cracked. “Although if we were to fight properly, it wouldn’t be just my claws you’d have to worry about.” On his back, a pair of cannons began to whirr, the ominous glow coming from them hinting at their power.

“Hmmm…” Lancer’s eyes narrowed. “It seems my master has seen enough. I’ve got to run for it.” He nodded at Rin. “It seems you’ve managed to summon a formidable Servant after all.” And then he was gone, vanishing in a blur of motion.

“…” Rin looked at her Servant. “A war hamster? I think you need to tell me a little bit more about who you are and where you’re from.”

X     X     X

“Yes,” Rin said. “He is apparently a war hamster from something called the Arendelle Empire that is, I think, an empire from another galaxy in another universe.”

“He’s a giant hamster.” Shirou stared at Professor Cuddleborough. The massive hamster had come to his and Sabre’s aid during their scuffle with Berserker. He had forced the other Servant to retreat although that had done nothing to quell Shirou’s curiosity. Berserker’s master had known who he was…

“He is a truly noble beast.” Sabre had spent the last ten minutes running her hands through Professor Cuddleborough’s fur before simply giving in and wrapping her arms around the huge hamster, so she could bury her face in his fur. “A truly noble beast indeed.”

Professor Cuddleborough simply gave Rin an amused smile. This was, evidently, not the first time he’d experienced this. “We should be head home,” he said. “I’d rather not use any of my bigger guns in such a crowded area.”

“He has guns?” Shirou asked.

“I’m basically the equivalent of super-advanced heavy artillery,” the hamster replied. “Where I come from if you need something really, really dead, then you send in a war hamster. We’re often the first into battle and usually the last to leave.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Although many hamsters over the years have carried the name of Professor Cuddleborough, this particular war hamster is the most famous of the lot. During his life, he earned the nickname “The Cuddle Hammer” due to his incredible war record. A hero famous through the Arendelle Empire, his deeds in combat were unmatched even amongst war hamsters, and he distinguished himself in countless battles.

Perhaps his most famous feat was singlehandedly saving the life of the emperor after the emperor’s dreadnought was brought down by Grimm during a massive battle. Heroically standing guard over the wounded emperor, the Professor Cuddleborough fought endless waves of Grimm for the better part of three days before reinforcements finally arrived. 

In the Empire’s long and stories history, it is not an exaggeration to say that he might be its most famous war hamster.

In the Fifth Grail War, Professor Cuddleborough was summoned by Rin Tohsaka. He is classified as an Archer due to the overwhelming ranged weaponry at his disposal due to his super-advanced power armour, which was the finest such armour in the Arendelle Empire during his lifetime.

However, as a war hamster, his physical prowess is unreal compared to a human, even a Servant. As a war hamster, he is fully capable of shrugging of artillery even without his power armour, and he can fight giant Grimm barehand. His stats are as follows:

Strength: A++ Endurance: EX Agility: A++ Mana: A++ Luck: A Noble Phantasm: EX

Abilities

For the Empire. Professor Cuddleborough once famously claimed that “As long the still Empire stands, I cannot fall… and as long as I still stand, the Empire cannot fall!” In life, he was a hamster of unshakeable faith and determination, which allowed him to emerge victorious in situations that would have defeated countless others. The greater his belief in the cause he fights for, the stronger he will become. 

Cuddle Factor. Despite his immense combat power, Professor Cuddleborough is a descendant of Professor Cuddles, the cutest, most adorable hamster in history, and he is said to resemble him a great deal. Cuddle Factor grants him an A+ in charisma since all who look upon him will be captivated by his cuteness and adorability should he wish it. 

Mind of the Dia-Farron. As one of the greatest war hamsters in history, Professor Cuddleborough was also a scientific genius with intellect capable of matching even the illustrious Dia-Farron of the Empire. He can easily understand and replicate any technology that he is likely to come across.

Noble Phantasms

Power Armour. The power armour that Professor Cuddleborough uses is unique power armour that was crafted by the finest minds of the Empire using the finest materials in the galaxy. It is considered by many to be the greatest suit of power armour ever donned by a war hamster. In practical terms, the combined nuclear arsenal of the Earth could be launched at it, and they’d be lucky to scratch the paint. Given how much time he spent battling Grimm, it is also designed to withstand more esoteric attacks. When activated to its full extent, it can withstand even planet-buster level attacks.

Power Armour Arsenal. The offensive capabilities of his power armour are equal to its defensive capabilities. His default weapons include plasma cannons, laser cannons, warp claws, missiles pods, and gravity lances. However, he can scale up to weapons designed to break planets if necessary.

Once again, Rin manages to luck out when summoning a Servant. Sure, he’s a hamster, but he’s quite possibly the most badass hamster who ever lived from a galaxy full of badass hamsters.

You can find me on fanfiction.net, AO3, and Amazon.

#Fate/stay night #fanfiction #rin tohsaka #shirou emiya #saber #arthuria pendragon #final effect

[nellynee]

(So I got a little behind on OK KO for a bit, and I had this in my drafts since before the Mr, Logic flashback episode. It’s been sitting around there since then, as I wanted to update this after catching up. BUT I’m actually forming a whole new thought thread based on what I’m seeing, so I’m posting this now as it was as a precursor to that. It’s a little outdated, but still holds a lot of relevant thoughts and I want to post it for reference.) 

Ok so like, I wrote like six paragraphs on why the whole Pow card system frustrates me and I don’t know if anyone else has come to this conclusion and I haven’t seen it, or if this is just obvious to everyone and I’m an idiot for pointing it out. But like wow (I’ll get to Boxman’s level in a second just let me set the stage as it were)

POW card level isn’t an indicator of power level, it’s a reflection of your career as a whole, completely independent from physical stats like strength and speed and such.  

I mean it makes total sense. Again, stop me if I’m just talking about the thing the fandom doesn’t talk about because it’s obvious but like....

On the scale we see (heros specifically)  0-1 (neutral parties, Hero’s who don’t put in a lot of active effort, new comers) 2-3 (those that are active, but repetitive in efforts. Don’t have many chances to prove significant jumps in heroism, the day to day heroes) 4-7 (young hero’s in official schooling systems who have more opportunity to prove themselves, and veterans with inactive careers, like Red Action and some of the older cast, 8-9 (those typically in this category are flashbacks, eventual bigshots who are still early in their career, see Laserblast) 10 and up (Veterans and big shots who are still extremely active)

(But “You’re level 100″ indicates that two level 5′s could beat a level 10 like it’s a power quantifier. I’m going with “K.O.’s idea, he’s a kid who doesn’t quite have it worked out, which is why no one else thought along those lines and indulged him. It worked, but there was no connection between the level and effectiveness, after Enid beat Elodie with skill alone, despite being a lower level, meaning it isn’t a one for one anyways)

We see POW card level being used as a badge of honor less as a means of “look how tough I am” and more “Look at everything I’ve DONE

after all, K.O. is less than 1, but we know for a fact he has a lot of hidden potential and power. So in this system, you could have low level hero’s who are extremely powerful, just inactive, or are still building their careers.

Shadowy Figure using his POW card as proof he’s trustworthy makes more sense. A powerful hero may be impressive, but if it’s an indicator of past deeds, then someone doing enough active good to be a level 8 is making good choices and is trustworthy

Outliers make more sense. Big Darrel, since he’s considered a separate entity level wise, exists only for a short amount of time and exclusively does bad deeds. With how Boxman bragged about Big Darrel’s level, I wouldn’t put it past him to have artificially inflated it to bust the Plaza’s moral. Hero and Galgarion as well. Hero doesn’t seem ridiculously OP for his level, and his increase comes from many small repetitive heroic actions, not actually getting stronger. It would make sense for two brothers to get into a POW level pissing contest for their initial disagreement as well.

Basically, level is bragging rights, the culmination of good vs bad deeds

I’ve got a lot more little details like that but the reason I’m bringing all this up here is Boxman’s Level, which has been the unexplained outlier for so long. He doesn’t seem to be the physical equivalent in power to Carol, who’s of the same level, and he gets no respect for his level despite being so high, and taken in the context as a career quantifier, that attitude towards him makes more sense now.

We get verbal confirmation in universe from Venomous that P.O.I.N.T. has significantly better resources than any of the villains. The indicated high grade villains also show a healthy fear of them, and “Villain’s night out” shows them as significantly outclassed. I’m not saying it for sure, but I wouldn’t put it past the current culture for P.O.I.N.T. to be purposefully stalling the villains out from a legislation standpoint. (edit side note: OH MY GOD The confirmation in Point to the Plaza that Point works like some sort of martial law and is a strong authoritarian presence of leadership in the culture of this world iS SO VALIDATING. I’ve been theorizing that POINT might be using “for your own good” mentalities to bully their views and how that might affect the general villainous populous FOREVER) The highest levels we see other than those that are grossly inflated (big Darrel, Galgarion) are Boxman, with the rest of them sitting pretty comfortably at 7′s and 8′s, several levels bellow most veteran hero’s

Boxman may be a much higher level than the rest of them, but he doesn’t play nice, doesn’t make an effort at teamwork for the greater evil agenda. Going solo, he doesn’t have much of a claim to regular impressive evil actions, his number one nemesis is a shopping center, his robots fail often (probably on the field after being sold too). He’s impulsive and hammy and doesn’t seem to plan things through. He’s probably seen as a one hit wonder has been at best, and at worst, a guy who got lucky once, got a very good level for it, and can’t recreate actual success. He gets little respect from other villains because he does nothing to cultivate respect from other villains. He’s not considered competent in part because of his rash temper causing mistakes yes, but also because he doesn’t fit in with conventional villain culture.

That being said, I absolutely believe in the #realness of his level

There is just to much evidence in favor of it

My personal first indicator was Boxman’s conversational tone in “Villain’s night Out” when discussing P.O.I.N.T.. His tone didn’t indicate bragging to me. it was less “Oh yeah I’m so tough POINT is out for me too” talk up, but more “Oh yeah jeeze, I can’t totally empathize and connect with you on this issue”. I chalked it up at the time to weird delivery, but my second watch through of the series it did make me more alert. Boxman’s internal robots, Mr. Logic, Earnesto, those meant for personal use and not exposed to the populace, are MUCH more competent than his heavy hitters. (edit: this was written before I watched “ok dendy let’s be ko”, but in a way this still stands. I do have thoughts about Ernesto on the field, which will come with the next big meta piece I have, but this is still relevant, trust me.) His acknowledgement of his personal flaws, working on them actively, but getting no where. His secret projects and the experimental nature of the random weapons and upgrades on his robots when he sends them out. His bursts of cruelty and hyper competence. The fact that Boxman is the only regular and discernible threat on the Plaza, and despite Garr being it’s overseer and a very competent one at that, Carol has apparently been placed by some organization (probably POINT) to make sure everything is under control…

Don’t get me wrong, I do think Boxman’s flaws are legit and not a rouse. He’s over focused on the Plaza, has trouble planning too far ahead, as a hair trigger temper and impulse control issues…

But I also think Boxman is hobbling himself.

*I think he did something big, something huge, or a had a series of larger victories. Started a name for himself. And POINT retaliated, HARD.

And being very much an all or nothing sort of attacker, being perfectly aware of his capabilities and flaws, Boxman may has been laying low since then. I think Boxman is 100% serious when he mentioned POINT always interfering in his plans to Venomous. Whether it’s a show of power, or more likely, financial crippling him in a way that he’s constantly pushing against, POINT has been keep an eye on him all this time and he knows it.*-(edit: again, I understand that this is in at least some small ways disproved by Lad and Logic, as we see that at that point, at the start of his obsession with the Plaza, Boxman has never openly attacked POINT, but is planning to, and we see the start and reasoning behind Boxmore industries. But I also feel that my reasoning still stands as well. also to be continued in my other meta post)

I think he’s crippling his robots on purpose, emotionally at least, to try and walk the fine line between the small destruction he craves and keep out of the limelight. I think he picked the Plaza as an easy place to test his experiments and make himself seem less competent with his goals to shake the heat and it got to real for him. I think he knows he’s only going to have one chance to make a big stand and he’s been working behind the scenes all this time. He’s been committing small time villainy to shake the trail off his bigger plans.

I think the show is sleeping on him, because he’s sleeping on him. He’s not ready to break his plans open yet.

I think part of Venomous’ reaction towards him in “We’re captured” and “Villain’s night out” were as much a hilarious evil boner as it was the realization that maybe Boxman’s past success wasn’t a fluke, that there’s competence enough to work with once you wade through all the ham that it might work. I think Venomous is just as bad as Boxman when it comes to classic hammy villain shenanigans, but has at least learned to fit in in modern Villain culture, and has realized that Boxman might be his one opportunity to go big or go home.

#ok ko #ok ko lets be heroes #professor venomous #lord boxman #boxman #meta #older meta in fact #but let me know if you guys have thoughts #I'm writing the followup even now

[ecotone99]

[NF] 'Sanctuary' with the Oracle

Coming back from disgrace is a story of triumph and glory that society holds in the highest esteem. These tales are only eclipsed by fables of a meteoric rise from the depths of the downtrodden and unknown. Heracles is one of the most celebrated heroes of the Greek Pantheon, his stories involve both of these celebrated victories. Many sports legends of today involve the same two celebrated victories. So in this regard, sports could be seen as the modern day versions of the Tales of Heracles.

In the tales of old and in the tales of new, the deeds must be done to achieve everything desired, but the glory of the deeds are dimmed by the intimidating tasks. Heracles learned about himself while performing his heroic deeds and today’s athletes are no different. The scales of self-enlightenment are open to all, but only a few are strong enough to withstand the grind required to achieve ultimate success.

In the tales of old, Heracles flees to the Oracle of Delphi after committing a crime while under a spell. Unbeknownst to Heracles, the Oracle is against him as well. For the sake of his life and his glory, he must obey the Oracle. But this is just the tale of another supplicant to the daunting scales of American football. A supplicant who stepped onto the scale because the stars filled his eyes when the world was dim.

Going into my seventh grade year, to say I was ready to play football would be an understatement. Considering my motivations, what else could one expect from a twelve year old? Following my little league excursion, the idea of my mother having another demigod son was very appealing. What mother wouldn’t be proud of having three demigods of football under her roof? Plus, I was ready to prove myself to my neighborhood friends and make new friends at my new middle school. Enjoying video games and anime as much as I did, I was already close to the nerd label. Back then, it was not a good thing. I needed to do something to make me cool. Football gave me many birds with one stone.

Everyone remembers their first day at a new school. The surging feeling of butterflies in your stomach. Each heartbeat delivering a fresh fluttering of their acidic wings. I remember pulling up to Macario Garcia Middle School, sleepy but excited. The butterflies were strong, but I had the free lunch so I wasn't worried about throwing up. I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. The hunger combined with my trepidation to create a vortex of hollowness in my center. It was all I could to remain whole. Instead, I took in the building I would be entering for the next three years. Resigned to suffer another year of school, but excited by the newness of everything.

It was sixth grade, the school was brand new and, if I'm not mistaken, my class was the first class in the new facility. The Principal and the teachers definitely treated it like was new. The school was two floors of clean tan bricks, big sparkling windows, and glistening linoleum hallways. There were freshly painted animal murals on the walls of the hallways and each of the classrooms had thick plush carpets. Outside, there was a quarter-mile gravel track surrounding a football field. It was perpendicular to a smaller field with a discus ring and baseball field and the two fields framed the parking lot. This was where the buses dropped off the kids outside of the cafeteria, the safe place of all kids fat. My elementary school experience told me I was going to need this place.

This was my first time going to school without my little brother, but I wasn’t too worried. I was sure I wouldn’t need anyone with me in case I cried in the bathroom. This wasn’t the fourth grade. I was in the sixth grade now. Now, I was feeling the opposite. I was feeling eager. The smell of my new clothes filled my nose. My toes felt luxuriated in my new shoes. Even though I wouldn’t play football until the seventh grade, I was sure I was going to make friends and do well. My parents assured me that I would.

Lining up for breakfast, I remember looking around and something odd hit me. There were a lot more girls here than at my elementary school...a lot. I recognized one here and there, but they were few and far in-between. I didn’t even know this many girls existed and for some reason I couldn’t turn away as they walked this way and that. Girls of all shapes and sizes. Shapes and sizes-

Hormones.

Standing there on that first day of school, I watched these heavenly creatures pass me by. I tried to talk, to say anything, but they didn’t even acknowledge my existence. If I somehow managed to get their attention, they looked upon me with either amusement or horror. A reaction that always ended with them giggling as they ran off, turning back to look at me, and then erupting in laughter once more. And it was on the first day of school I realized something.

My ‘chubbiness’ as a child had matured into plain old fat. It took me less than a week to see that I boasted a bra cup size larger than some of the school administrators. The girls at my school wouldn’t look in my direction even if I was speaking to them. To make things worse, a group of ‘friends’ would grab at my man-boobs. But, these guys had the girls swarming like mosquitoes around a light bulb. I figured I was bound to get smacked by one of them if I stayed close enough. So I lingered around them from time to time and they grabbed at my chest from time to time. After all, if a boy’s friends couldn’t grab a titty or two, then who could?

As the year passed, I made other friends, actual friends. Usually we shared an interest in something, Dragonball-Z or video games, but sometimes it was a friendship of being kind to a stranger. Plus, what kind of asshole grabs the titty of a kid who is nice to them? I thought I had the middle school social game stitched up with that two-for-one. Unfortunately for me, life got in the way of my game plan.

Those friendships? Casualties of cliques. Nothing ever degenerated to a state of animosity, but a head nod in the hallway was the best I could hope. And as it turns out, middle school kids are the kinds of assholes to grab the titties of nice kids. I hated it, but I was lucky. I was big enough to scare off most of the daredevils, but there was still my group of ‘friends’ with all the girls. That all stopped one day after gym class.

It was sometime during the spring because I remember it being bright and muggy outside. I don't remember what activity we had during PE, but I do remember being in a sour mood afterwards. This wasn't anything new. I wasn’t athletic at that age. I was either a reluctant pick, sitting duck, diversionary target, or a cheerleader/bench warmer. But something was different about that day. Something about that day refused to allow me to take any shit from anyone.

The boys and the girls were separated, but something kept the coaches from opening the boys locker room so we lingered in the hallway. I was in the middle of the group lost in a daydream when I felt a brush under my armpit and a squeeze on my nipple. I spun on instinct. Standing there was the leader of my popular ‘friends.’ He had a proud smirk on his face while a few others of the group stood behind him snickering. Something about their smiles and his smirk combined with my already sour mood. All the frustration from the months of grabbing, snickering, disrespect, and dismissal came to the front of my mind. I snapped.

I pushed him as hard as I could and I remember him slamming against the wall, but looking unfazed. I was a big boy, but my size was earned with cakes and candy. The leader was taller than me and fit, almost brawny. He always had a wild look in his eye. Like anything could set him off and he wouldn’t stop raging until someone was dead. He intimidated me, but I was too angry to think about that. I was too angry to think at all. The only thing flowing through my mind was the need for retribution.

So I got it.

I launched myself at my opponent like I was Goku during the Frieza Saga in Dragonball-Z, hurt and angry. All my built-up frustration exploded in the form of a headbutt to his chest and a drive into the wall, keeping him pinned there with all my weight. I threw wild punches into my bully’s ribs and I felt him flinch. I heard ‘oof’ and ‘ahh’ but I didn’t know if that was from him or the spectators. I didn’t know much of what was going on around me. All I knew was that after a lifetime of swinging that was likely only few seconds, I heard something about the coach coming. I immediately pulled off my attack. I tried to be cool and turn around all smooth like James Bond, but I was too tired. I managed to turn around well enough, but it was obvious I was trying to be cool about it.

I knew the coach would find out. How wouldn’t he? The school was going to call my mom. She would tell my dad. There would be this whole thing about it. It would end in me getting grounded, or spanked... even sent to a school back in Nigeria if it was bad enough. At that point all I could do was regret my attack and try not to pass out from exhaustion.

I watched the coach get closer and closer. He turned, looked at me, and frowned before he waded through the group of sweaty boys and opened the doors. He went into his office plopped into his seat, and started doing whatever PE coaches do outside of PE. None the wiser about what he missed.

So after that day, there was no more titty grabbing...but no more proximity to heavenly creatures. A dire situation seeing as how my hormones were crying out for a girl from the moment I woke up to when I fell asleep.

Sixth grade wasn’t all bad though. I had my fair-weather friends. I had my routine. But I had nothing I wanted. No problem. Two of my older brothers were demigods. That meant I had the seed of greatness in me. My mom told me so all the time. I just had to bide my time and try to keep my hormone-drowned mind in check. I didn't need to spend every available second generating sex scenes with every eligible woman and girl I passed. Football was the only thing that would make those scenes a reality. So I waited.

Sixth grade came and went. The summer came and went. Seventh grade was starting and football was coming. My time with Toonami and the Sci-Fi Channel was over. No more Dynasty Warriors and Madden. An end to my days of Starbursts and Tostino’s Pizzas for afternoon snacks before my parents got home. The world would soon be blessed with the tales of another modern day demigod.

So I stepped onto the scale.

On the first day of seventh grade, I signed up to play football in the paperwork the school gave us. I tried to let it slip that I was going to be a football player, but no one talked to me so it remained a surprise for later. A few days later, I walked into the Equipment Room where I got all my equipment. I was assigned a locker and given a brief demonstration of how to put everything on. There was only one thing I was nervous about.

I’d heard stories about the mythical locker room where my demigod brothers kept their equipment. They made it sound like a place of fantasy and adventure. They made it sound so fun, but I had one overwhelming problem. A problem that I dreaded and failed to maneuver around. I had to undress...like down to my underwear...man-boobs free to the world. Hundreds of schemes ran through my head. My goal was to somehow keep my shirt on while putting on my pads, but we were required to wear a half shirt. No avoiding my fate with that.

The feel of the cool air on my nipples filled me with dread as my head went over my shirt. I feared the laughter and grabbing of the entire locker room. I may have fought off my bully, but I couldn’t fight off the whole locker room. I had no choice but to resign myself to being the locker room grab toy. My shirt came off...and nothing happened. My back was to the rest of the locker room and the other lockers in my row could still see my man-boobs, but no one said anything. They looked for sure. There were a few wide eyes, but the rest of the kids were too busy getting ready to make any remarks. That made me relax.

When I fitted on my shoulder pads, I remember hitting my chest for some odd reason. It felt weird so I did it again and I realized what I was feeling was solidity. I looked down and though my belly poked out, my chest was flat. I had no boobs. These shoulder pads rescued me from man-boobs. I became very happy. For the first time since I was three, I felt like I was a regular boy. I was finally fitting in somewhere.

The spike of confidence dulled when I realized most of these boys actually finished their little league years. In all honesty, I constantly wondered if I was going to quit on this team too, but I had a good feeling. Having a flat chest was too good a feeling to let go. All I had to do was figure out a way to wear my shoulder pads during school and I would be set, but I had to play to keep them.

When the groups were separated into the men of substance and the skill players, I looked around at my fellow offensive and defensive linemen. Most of them may have played little league football, but none of them almost took down two players. I did and I wanted to tell them that I did, but couldn't. Guess, I’d have to wait until the coaches busted out the bags I’m sure they had.

Well the coaches had the bags alright...just like my first few weeks of middle school football had some very bitter lessons for me. The first lesson came on the very first day of practice. No one is special. If you’re out of position or unprepared in any manner, you’re getting smacked. Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ could be out on the field. He would get bulldozed by a player looking to get that holy clout. It was a particularly painful lesson, but I learned.

My second and most heart-wrenching lesson in the divine sport came on the day of the first game. There were no weight limits on public school football teams, so I didn’t have to worry about getting kicked off the team, but I did wonder if I was going to make it. Practice could be fun but there was too much running and I had to suffer through the nightmare of conditioning.

By the time I had these thoughts flowing through my mind, the week of the first game came. I heard a rumor in the locker room that there were going to be cheerleaders. I still hadn’t figured out a way to wear my shoulder pads to school, but if the girls saw my with a flat chest, they would fall in love. That’s usually how it worked in anime. I made it onto the A-Team so that was good and with this game I would finally have my shot to get a girl to like me... then the coach announced the depth chart. Girls only wanted the All-Stars and MVPs...you can’t be either if you don’t start.

Even still, this was my first game ever. When we were walking out of the locker room wearing our pads and game uniforms, I looked at the field. There were two sets of aluminum stadium seats about four or five rows high. People were in them. When we got onto the field, the B-Team was still playing, but my eyes were stuck on the people in the seats. There were other girls from the school there. A few of them were talking to the cheerleaders and that’s when I saw that the rumor was true. My heart was beating normally, but it was thumping. The cheerleaders were all so hot and there were even more girls in the stands. Surely one of them would take notice of me and like me. I mean I was flat chested now, surely my man-boobs were the reason they didn’t know I existed.

The game started...and I sat on the bench. However, it was on that bench that was inducted into the fraternity. The Eternal Fraternity of Football Players. Sitting on that bench, I made the first genuine friends I could ever remember having. Guys that actually liked me and with whom I shared interests with. They didn’t treat my presence as a nuisance and they actually liked what I said from time to time. We were the Pine Crew. I had my first sleepover at one of their houses, but my snoring was otherworldly because I woke up by myself. The Pine Crew was made of the same kind of guys. Either built for football but goofy or strong without an athletic frame. Not everyone on the sidelines was in the Pine Crew. There were second stringers and others who played, but none of us played unless someone was hurt or the game was pretty much done.

As much as I enjoyed their friendship, I hated not starting. My demigod brothers were only on the sidelines to rest from playing all the time, but what could I do. My time would come, but in the meantime, I enjoyed my Pine Crew. Plus, with all of us on the sidelines, we all cheered each other on when one of us managed to get into the game. So when I was called up at the end of one game, my Pine Crew saw my one and only highlight on the defensive line. They were not the only ones.

It was one of the last games of the season. My team was away and the cloudy gray skies matched my dour mood. There in the stands was none other than my father. With two all-stars as his oldest born sons, I could only imagine his disappointment in seeing a son of his sitting on the sidelines. I was ready to show out for my father. I asked my coach if I could play all week, but my coach wanted to win. He made vague promises, but there me and my Pine Crew sat. Then the fourth quarter came.

The rain had not ceased the downpour and the game was over. I heard the a timeout call then I heard something weird in that setting...my name. I turned to my coach and he was waving me onto the field. I jammed my helmet on my head and ran out as fast as I could. We were on defense so I was going to be one of the interior defensive linemen. There were thirty-odd seconds left in the game, enough time to run a few more plays, but that was cool. I was in the game. My dad would see me play and I made sure to give him something to see.

My frustration and embarrassment exorcised itself in the form of an explosive play that surprised even me. I rocketed out of my stance at the snap of the ball and in what felt like a few mere moments, I was in the backfield. Surprised to be there, I was lost for a second, but I remembered I was on defense so I began searching for the ball carrier. That’s when I saw it. Right there in the middle of the muddy field a few yards away, the ball rested, waiting to be picked up. With nothing but open muddy fields in front of me, visions of glory filled my eyes and I began charging. I sloshed through the mud as quickly as I could and I remember feeling buoyant as I took the final step for the ball with no one in my sight. Suddenly, the wrong colored jersey flashed in front of me and one of the opposing players picked up the ball right in front of me. My momentum carried me into a tackle and I was rewarded with a long streak of mud down my side for my efforts. As happy as I was about making the tackle, something else made the whole year of riding the bench worth it.

A familiar sounding cheer erupted from the stands. I turned to see my father on his feet cheering like he cheered at the games of my demigod brothers. Seeing my father, I forgot what cloud nine was because became a cloud. He was on his feet, yelling at the top of his lungs as though I had scored the game winning touchdown. Seeing my father cheer like that, I felt as though I did.

That final play of my seventh grade year juiced up me for the rest of the year. At that point, football was all I cared about. My eighth grade year was the year that the divine game would deliver the promises I had placed upon the scale. The universe seemed to give me a sign of providence when I learned that not only had I made the A-Team once more, I was going to start that year too.

On the A-Team and starting? Every female who laid her eyes on me would drape themselves over me and fight to give me their undergarments. Only problem was that I forgot about the whole man-boobs thing and how much females scorned them so nothing changed for me. I once again personally ensured the school dances didn’t have every student in attendance.

As disappointing as this failed promise was, I didn’t despair. That year, my team went undefeated and that left me invigorated for my upcoming ninth grade year. With this level of victory behind me, I was headed for the domain of my personal demigods. The site of their victories and the place where their legend was formed. I was going to Kempner High School.

The girls would regret not swooping me up when they had the chance now that I would be entering the domain where my demigod brothers once ruled. I was sure there were people who still remembered their names. The legend of my family combined with the victories I was apart of would mean I was prime and football was the key. I would join my brothers in the Pantheon of Legends also known as the Fieldhouse. I would claim my promises in high school.

Then Christmas Eve happened...

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