#and no that's not soccer or American football as far as I understand

[lightineventide]

[boba-beom]

me running full speed to your inbox because you said taehyun (it’s me the full time taehyun simp)

fratboy football player taehyun x cheerleader!reader 😁😁😁 (i know he’s more of a soccer guy but BARE W MEEE)

honestly football players txt all of them… sookai ate this up in ways i can’t even describe

good girl cheerleader reader who’s a little ditzy but she’s so sweet n sugary… tutoring w/ football player tyun who’s also top of his classes cos he’s just so smart hehe .. the tension at his games good lord

RAAAAAH YES AND YES LIA OMGGG YOU DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND MY JAW DROPPED 🫠

footballer!taehyun x cheerleader!reader suggestive thoughts (literally all over the place bear with me)

first of all I LOVE this concept, and I wholeheartedly agree that sookai ate up that fit but they’re a good looking group of guys who can fu—

idk what it is but when you mentioned ‘sweet n sugary’ I get it, I really do omfg. like every time the cheerleaders have a dress rehearsal you’re all out on the field beside where the footballers have their training outdoors. short fitting shorts under the cute flap of your mini pleated skirt and your fitted long sleeved bodysuit with the university’s logo and the name of the football team you’re supporting.

literally going insane over the fact taehyun most likely watches the cheerleaders, specifically you, doing cartwheels and splits, his tongue poking his cheek once he sees just how flexible you are. probably storing it in a compartment in his brain with a massive label addressed as your name in bold and all caps.

thing is, taehyun knows you’re too good and a little ditzy to even realise half of the team is salivating over you. even better, you don’t know what he thinks when he watches you, thinking he’s giving you innocent eye contact from where he was watching.

tutoring with him must be fun. he knows your ditzy, but also knows you’re academically competent. he knows that when you set your mind to it, you’re able to do it with confidence. hence your place in cheer since the selection for the group wasn’t easy.

during your tutoring sessions you’d sometimes come in your practice clothes after a cheer rehearsal—the clothes being a oversized cropped tshirt and skin tight booty shorts that leaves little to the imagination. sitting next to taehyun and he instantly glances down at the meat of your thighs while you take your books and laptop out.

occasionally, he’d be talking to you about a section within the subject in which you’re struggling in but far from failing. you just want all your grades to be as good as his. he’s been your inspiration this whole time anyway. and sometimes when you work out the questions a little quicker than he does, he lays his warm palm against your inner knee and caresses your exposed skin gently, cooing praises like, “you’ve gotten better I see.” or even a, “atta girl” 😵‍💫🫠🤯

and the games THE GAMES 😵‍💫 I just know tension rises during the games, knowing just how competitive he can be and you’re cheering as hard as you can for the home team, for taehyun. just like when the cheerleaders are performing at the beginning of the game (idk how it works I’m sorry I’ve never been to … nor seen an american football game cjdmdk) the footballers are all getting ready to enter the field, and once the performance is done you make sure to make eye contact with taehyun and blowing him a kiss with a wink. that’ll for sure keep his energy up at the beginning of the game.

and let’s say the home team won 🤭 and the cheer squad end with another performance, you run up to taehyun and congratulate him for being one of the teams best players that evening. smiling up at him with your sweet smile, asking him if you can be his plus one to the team’s celebration later that night. how can taehyun refuse?

“‘course you can, doll. want you by my side tonight, m’kay?” and he’d cup your cheek, thumb caressing your skin until he slides his hand to cup your jaw, then a little lower to hold onto your neck with no pressure.

and all you do is nod with your pretty doe eyes and your pretty, perfect smile that has him wrapped around your finger. boy does taehyun want to ditch that afterparty and take you home to ruin in his sheets. because fuck the tension, he wants you. he always has.

© BOBA-BEOM ; all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, alter or translate in any way or platform.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

So, I saw all the posts about the promos for this thing coming from the John Oliver side of Tumblr, and I wasn't really planning to watch it despite my general interest in John Oliver, because I just don't understand the appeal of watching people eat and/or make and/or talk about food. I've said before that I couldn't get into Off Menu, or something like Bake Off, because of triggers I have from my years of cutting weight for sports, which is true but doesn't even really apply in this case. One 30-minute video of eating wings isn't going to trigger me (I do eat and talk about food without a problem, it's just doing long deep dives into that bothers me). It's just not interesting to me. John Robins and Elis James have started this feature on their radio show called Tick of a Taste where they try something unusual (and usually challenging, in similar ways to hot wings) and then describe it, and it's the only part of their radio show where I kind of tune out. I just don't get the appeal of turning food into entertainment.

So I was going to give this one a miss, but then it actually aired and @lastweeksshirttonight alerted me to the fact that there's a bit of Edinburgh chat, and obviously I cannot skip potential Chocolate Milk Gang content. So I watched it, and was not disappointed.I don't know who that interviewer is, and I did not expect to like him, given that he's an American man who makes, I assume, a whole series based on filming celebrities eating spicy food. I'm vaguely aware of that sort of "content creator" genre of YouTube, and it doesn't sound like fun. But I have to admit, he conducted a surprisingly great interview for a man sitting across from some hot sauce bottles. Asked good questions, they were insightful and interesting and displayed an impressive level of knowledge about his subject.

At this point, I'd like to take a brief moment to use this video as an excuse to slag off Marc Maron:

Marc Maron interviewed John Oliver in 2012, an episode that I listened to because John was fascinating in it but Marc was absolutely insufferable, as he's been in all the WTF episodes I've heard (which I believe is four: John Oliver, Andy Zaltzman, Stewart Lee, and James Acaster). And this is far from the main reason why Marc was insufferable, in fact it was a tiny thing that didn't matter, but Marc was so weird about the differences between British and American English. He kept stopping John to ask for the definition of British words that might not be common in North America, but should be more than easy enough to work out from context, and Marc couldn't just do that, he had to stop and treat it like some weird exotic thing that John said the word "headteacher". At one point in the interview, John is talking about the place where he plays a game that some call football and others call soccer, and you can hear him say "the p-field". Clearly started to say "pitch" and then realized that this annoying interviewer would pick him up on that so he changed it to field. That's what I thought of when I saw the above video clip - a fun example of the opposite of that. Well done to the hot wings interviewer for not being like Marc Maron.

The hot wings interviewer still pronounces Edinburgh about as badly as Marc Maron does, but I'm starting to think I should be a bit careful about complaining when Americans do that, because I'm not 100% sure that I say it correctly. I know how it's supposed to sound, so I can tell when someone says it wrong. But I think it might just be a hard word to say in a North American accent, so it's possible that I also mess it up, and six months from now I'm going to be in Edinburgh and probably at some point saying that word out loud to people who will know how it's meant to be said, so I might want to start saying now that it's fine if you do it wrong. I don't do it as wrong as that guy does, though. I'm pretty sure the word "bro" doesn't come into it when I say it. I also say it better than Marc Maron does.

Anyway, that is not the main point of this post, the main point of this post is this:

How the fuck have I never heard that story before? This is my exact period of specialty - John Oliver in his Chocolate Milk Gang years - and I have gathered up all the references to it that I can possibly find, and yet I'd never heard him tell that one before. I'm so glad I watched the weird hot wings video, just for that. I wish he'd tell us who the other comedian was. I have several guesses.

You know, I hadn't really thought before about the fact that John Oliver would have done his own material at those Late 'n' Live gigs. I knew he ran around taking cows apart, and I knew other people did their actual sets, but I hadn't thought of the fact that at some point John would have been on stage by himself telling John Oliver jokes. I don't think the stage where they took the cow apart was really the place for early 00s-era John Oliver jokes. I'm not surprised it went badly.

John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman do have a long list of stories of gigs they've done that have gone very badly (one gig in particular, the stories of which I made into a compilation nearly two years ago now), and I know all comedians have stories like that, but it doesn't surprise me that Zoliver have more than most. 00s-era Zaltzman and Oliver, individually and together, were not club comedians. Or at least, they didn't have club material, but they were not yet quite famous enough to never do clubs. London has a much larger and more diverse comedy scene than we do around where I live, but still, I think I can use my local comedy club as some kind of basis for comparison. And if someone stood up at my local comedy club and started telling Zaltzman and Oliver jokes, they would be met with baffled silence at the absolute best. They might get stabbed.

What jokes was he telling at Late 'n' Live? Was he doing his Political Animal material? He had a bunch of political and topical stuff back then, but that's not all he did. John Oliver definitely had more mainstream material in his arsenal than Andy Zaltzman did, I guess he could have brought out his train story and the one about not eating peas as a kid. Though actually, even the peas story is basically a political joke. Was he doing the stuff about crying at sporting montages as early as that?

Actual recordings of the stand-up John Oliver did in Britain are rare, though I've managed to find a few. Most notably the one of him and Zaltzman doing their full 2004 Edinburgh show, in 2005, that got released on The Bugle in multiple pieces but I stitched them together into one file, and… I mean, you can't do that at Late 'n' Live. I know I haven't been there, but if you could do that at early 00s Late 'n' Live, then I have drastically misunderstood the nature of the event. You can't do that. You'll get stabbed.

The other source of information about early Oliver stand-up is reviews, which are worth reading because they're often quite funny. @lastweeksshirttonight, I can't remember if I've ever sent you the Steve Bennett review of his debut Edinburgh show, but I'm tagging you because if you haven't read it before then you definitely should. It's hilarious. I don't always agree with Steve Bennett's opinions or approach to the mechanics of the English language, but I have to admit: "John Oliver has based his debut Edinburgh show on death, a concept he can be no stranger to, given the lukewarm reception his obscure observations receive," is a sick burn.

Was John doing that at Late 'n' Live? You definitely can't do what was described in that review at Late 'n' Live. You probably shouldn't do that anywhere, really.

There are better reviews from the next few years, like these ones, which both basically boil down to: Zaltzman and Oliver are intelligent guys who write well and it's all very clever and even at times funny, but God, they're both really annoying. So annoying. It was funny but I didn't like them because they were annoying. Did he annoy the people at Late 'n' Live that way? Is that why the man wanted to stab him?

Steve seemed to like them better in 2005, but still, I don't think you can do that at Late 'n' Live. "Oliver and Zaltzman are at the vanguard of a new wave of satire taking vast global issues - fair trade, the apathy paralysing democracy, immigration - and trying to simplify them to expose their flaws, which suddenly seem so blindingly obvious when put in such clear terms." Yeah, John, obviously the guy threatened to stab you if you tried to do that to him when he was drunk at 1 AM. Obviously.

What did you do to them, John? And while we're at it, what did you do to the people of York that one time?

Anyway, the whole Hot Ones interview was pretty interesting, they touched a few times on that side of John Oliver that I find particularly enjoyable, as he discusses the way he really enjoys tension and doing fucked up things and getting in trouble, but also has a socio-political worldview that says venerating that stuff is bad, and this creates its own tension. It's something I've heard him talk about before, I've always enjoyed it, I wasn't expecting to hear it explored so much in a hot wings interview, but here we are. Thanks for the recommendations, John Oliver side of Tumblr.

[its-moopoint]

Ted Lasso

I'm so happy to be on holidays and finally have been able to start watching this show. Good praise and totally deserved so far.

Quick general thoughts (beginning S2 right now, had Jamie Tart's rep pretend to call and offer him to Real Madrid 😂 and offered a reality show in Ibiza, maybe he can help hunt for SC's Spanish marriage certificate)

- I hate the colours for Richmond cause they are Barcelona's and you know I'm a huge Madridista.

- Great actors. There was a time I couldn't stand Sudeikis, couldn't get his friendship with Aniston but he plays good comedy.

- Annette Badland... wait a sec... I KNOW YOU!!

- Jamie Tart is supposed to be Cristiano Ronaldo ain't he?

- I won't be able to sing Baby shark to any of my nephews the correct way, ever again ���

- Hannah Wadd something is sexy as fuck. What is it about that woman?!?? 🔥

- I ship Roy and Keeley 🫶🏼

- watching it in original version so actually learning new football (soccer LOL) words which is pretty useful for me but I confess I don't understand half the words they (any of them are saying). I used to think american accent was easier for me than British but boy my ears are confused cause I really have trouble with them all.

FOOTBALL IS LIFE MY FELLAS!!!

[nuclearforest]

the sun chases icarus

Crosspost to AO3 of a fic written at the behest of @zestyaahbutler, @rotten-hearts-sharp-teeth, and @hellogreyeyedathena where my girlboss Hellsing OC beats the shit out of Walter.

TW canon typical violence and torture; word count 4.2k

Walter had intended to avoid Claire for as long as time allowed; preferably until he died. His employer, Arthur, is naturally distant from the haughty misandrist during all interactions and rejects contact with her when at all possible. The butler and middle-aged monster hunter could understand where he got it from. Unfortunately, while the older Hellsing was occupied with his surrogate mother and newborn in the manor’s private chambers, the butler was left to entertain their guest.

She’d been invited to meet the young heir and, naturally, brought blessed gifts.

And when she came, she didn’t even wait to be picked up. She drove straight up to the manor in a rental car. Sweet talked the guards at the gate while they radioed back into the manor proper for clearance for her entry. She made idle chatter as they inspected the vehicle for unauthorized devices. She was far too early; something Walter might’ve appreciated if he hadn’t already started the car to drive into London to fetch her.

Somehow she was up to date on the local league soccer game results, exchanging remarks with the men on duty while he made his way inside.

“And you wouldn’t have believed he would score that goal until he did,” she waves a flippant hand, leaning on the tall walnut-boarded counter. She was a good head shorter than every man there and was dressed head to toe in a matching black and white houndstooth suit. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail with a tortoiseshell clip and when she turned to look over her shoulder at him, her curls bounced. “Well if it isn’t Walter!”

“Takes an American to ruin a Brit’s formality,” one of the men at her side laugh, almost faceless to the butler in his carbon copy suit with a neat Hellsing arm band pinned to place. Around him, the rest of the manor was in perfect order. Sprawling halls lined with artwork and richly papered walls. Early morning sunlight poured through high windows onto the red carpet and white tiled floor.

“Well you can’t quite blame me for my excitement—not every heir is born a girl! Won’t suffer the same hedonistic distractions as you lot.”

The men just guffaw around her, back to the football game from three days ago while they finish her paperwork and fork over a temporary guest badge. “Not all of us are like the Lord,” one of them says with a chuckle. Walter just frowns at the group and sighs.

“I’m afraid the Lord’s hedonistic distraction of the hour is his newborn daughter,” the butler announces, staring down his subordinates until they resume their guard positions along the walls in the reception area. “I will be your company until he emerges.”

The woman nods, flashing him a warm smile. “Maybe you can treat me to some proper tea this time.” Last time she visited was all business, helping assess a local coven for compatibility with the area. Why Arthur simply let them practice instead of banning them outright amounted solely to her meddling. Walter would’ve rid them all without a second thought.

“I suppose that will do,” Walter hums, stepping up to the counter and looking at the older man sitting behind with a logbook and notes for the week. “Send a message to the kitchen prepare a pot of tea, would you?”

The man nods and reaches for the phone. Claire taps the counter and shoots him a smile when he turns to look.

“I’m partial to something fruity, if you have it.”

“I’ll see what we have.” The man’s stoic face breaks into a smile and Walter bites back a sarcastic remark.

“Come along, now, I’ll show you to the parlor.” And with a wave of his hand, his escort duties begin. The blonde follows him down winding halls, quietly remarking about the paintings and greeting passing agents—damn Americans—as they go.

At least they reach the parlor quickly enough and Walter opens the grand old oak door, carved before the turn of the century, and holds it open for her to enter. Inside was a collection of antique furniture from the mid-1700s, excruciatingly maintained. Matching opposing chairs, recently reupholstered in red velvet, sat next to a patterned chaise lounge with a plethora of wooden tables surrounding them.

Forgoing his office, this was one or Arthur’s favorite rooms to make merry with work and with women. Along the wall opposite the door were grand windows staring down at the Hellsing estate. Along the same wall were bookcases with classic literature and crystal bottles of whiskey. At least one wooden carving of a horse to mark the time that Claire had hosted Arthur for the Kentucky Derby.

The same sunlight poured in and illuminated the room without the crystal chandelier over the head. Claire doesn’t even take a moment to savor the opulence of the room and just waltzes in, looking over the décor and humming before picking the seat with her back to the window and dropping down before the butler could even offer.

Just as Walter steps in, another servant arrives with a piping hot pot of tea. “Pardon me,” the young man bids, “but my Lord will be occupied for some time before he is able to see the company.”

“It’s quite alright,” Claire reassures him, crossing one leg over the other and smiling warmly at the man. “Thank you for the tea.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Walter cuts in before he can reply, taking his own seat and shooting the other staff member with a harsh look in warning to leave the dangerous guest to him. In no time at all they are left alone with the quiet click of the door as Walter pours a cup of tea and passes it off to her. Shame she doesn’t pay a moment of notice to the fine bone china with delicate purple florals and gold detail.

But that wasn’t so much the issue.

What was the issue was the look she was giving him: piercing blue gaze watching his pulse throb in his throat. Her face was blank, low wide smile and relaxed posture, slouched over in the antique chair, almost sinking under her weight. She held a teacup in one hand and saucer in the other, legs crossed like she was somehow a lady despite being a raging bitch and unrepentant monster.

It was already irritating that he couldn’t seem to relax around her. That the hair on his neck stood on end and his heart raced the second that damn door sealed them alone together.

“I didn’t think Arthur would make a good father, y’know?” she drawls before taking a long sip and looking just over the butler’s shoulder at the door. The crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes crinkle slightly when her smile broadens and she lowers her cup. “He might beat my expectations yet.” She closes her eyes and leans back a little further. Even the nearby door at his back does Walter no good, feeling his hands twitch while folded in his lap.

Despite being an ally by name, every iota of her person was a threat to his existence and goals.

“Is this why he’s been ignoring my messages?” Walter braces himself.

“You know what he’s like,” Walter snaps, feeling his lip quirk in disgust when she laughs at his reply.

“And that’s why I doubt his parental capabilities.” She laughs, tilting her head back ever so slightly just so her curls bounce behind her shoulders where they’re pinned back.

That was the charm that had Hellsing’s standard staff and agents lowering their guard around her. A motherly, middle-aged woman that could chat and laugh with them like she, too, could relate to their humanity. And yet there was no household to keep. No children at school. No mundane job, even, to keep her busy. She was the head of the American Department of the Supernatural and had been through however many iterations there had been before, generations of humans ago.

Walter’s silence doesn’t deter her. Instead, she just takes another sip and cracks her neck. “You’ll have your hands full with both of them now.”

“I beg your pardon?” He finally bites.

“You know. With the both of them: father and daughter,” she sets her teacup down on the saucer and waves her hand in a circle. “No reasonable man would send a child to do an adult’s work.” Her sharp gaze somehow sharpens then, cutting through his person and sending him back into his younger years. When he was an orphan under the watch of Hellsing, sent out into warzones to be one of the youngest unsung heroes of the war.

“I may as well have been a man myself at the time,” Walter replies, finally reaching for his own cup on a silver tray to his left. The silver cross on a silver chain glints where it hangs at her collarbones. It was a mystery how a werewolf, for all intents and purposes, went unaffected. “I would say he made the right decision.”

Her smile drops and she shakes her head at him. “If you insist. But he’d better not do the same damn thing to that poor girl. If I knew, I wouldn’t have been on the Pacific the whole damn time.” She wrinkles her nose when she looks at him again, uncrossing her legs to let them spread.

How uncouth.

“Wasn’t the first violence I’ve seen and won’t be the last.”

“So the angel of death still flies?”

“As surely as the sun rises.” He narrows his gaze at her and takes a sip of his own cooled cup, hoping to impart some of the same intimidation she lorded over him. Loathe as he was to admit it, he could learn exactly how to project his presence from her. He’d spent so damn long learning how to hide that he’d never learned how to use it to suffocate.

A sharp rap on the door steals their attention. Her eyes flit over his shoulder and he turns his head. An agent quickly opens the door and steps in, suit neatly pressed and horn-rimmed glasses shining in the daylight streaming through the windows at Claire’s back.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he grunts, face serious as he steps over to Walter. Like it matters, the man leans down to whisper and Walter shoots him a glare.

“Remember your company,” he instructs.

“Of course,” the man straightens up, “the young madam is down for a nap and it seems that visiting hours will have to be delayed further.”

“I see.” Walter says.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Claire chuckles, “let the baby get her sleep. We don’t age that quickly.”

“Likewise my Lord has other matters to tend to and entrusts Walter to keep you entertained.” The man bows and turns on his heel before Walter can choke out a reply, vein in his forehead already bulging. Claire’s chuckle blows into a full-bellied laugh.

“He’s still leaving you to fight his battles!” She sits up a little straighter and smirks at Walter. “So how exactly do you entertain?”

The door clicks shut again and Walter resigns himself to his fate. “I don’t suppose you’d like a riveting game of chess?”

“’fraid not,” she replies with a shrug, “I’m a little too uncultured for that.”

Walter suppresses his choke with a slight cough and quickly covers it with a sip of tea.

“And as much as I’d love to walk in the garden, Arthur’s not going to want me snooping around to see what he’s growing. How about we play a different game instead?”

The butler sets his tea aside again and straightens his front, correcting millimeters of fabric out of place. Now this was the danger zone.

“What were you thinking?” his voice is low and he stares at her with his chin held high, defiant where she was likely expecting him to fold. The real chess game of sorts would be dancing around her from whatever she tried to pry. As she noted, the garden and their herbs were off limits, Athur’s orders.

“The Who, What, and Where.” She stops, smirk lowering into a smile.

“And the basis of that is…?” He offers a hand, palm side up, as a gesture of good will.

“I just ask you questions about the who, the what, and the where. It was a popular show around the office for a while,” she shrugs. “All the rage at holiday parties.”

“I see.” Walter stares at her for a solid minute in contemplation. She lets his eyes roam her figure, completely relaxed if not aloof. While tempted to turn her down, he can’t help but dread the next suggestion. If she wants something, she won’t let him go so easily. “I suppose we can play.” He settles back in his own chair, feigning the same level of comfort but with markedly more tact.

“Wonderful. So do you know Millennium?”

His blood runs cold. Her face remains cheerful, casual.

“They were the division of the Nazi military that dealt with the supernatural.” Walter answers curtly. “I dealt with them in ’45.” It takes every muscle in his body to remain even slightly slouched.

Claire nods her head. “Twenty-five dollars for a good answer. I’ll have to spot you later today—I’m afraid I don’t have any cash on me.”

“No need,” the butler grunts out, internally cursing that he didn’t just take her on a walk through the damned garden and couldn’t back out.

She laughs at that. “Well let’s just say you’re all in on the next question then.” She pauses and sips her tea. Walter’s heart almost stutters in his chest, a betrayal. “What is the werewolf project?”

“Their piss poor attempt to make werewolves before they gave up and moved onto artificial vampires,” he answers. His fingers twitch again, but he thinks better than to reach for his cup of tea.

“Gave up?” Claire tilts her head, “Are you sure about that?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I’m the one asking questions,” she corrects, blowing right over him as her smile broadens and her eyes narrow slightly. The cold fingers of fear grip Walter’s stomach. “Twenty-five dollar deduction. Let’s go for the next one—where is Millennium stationed now?”

Walter jumps to his feet. “Are you accusing me of failure?” That’s the first thing he can think to confront her with, but in a flash, what remains of her tea spills all over the Persian carpet and she’s grabbed his neck in one hand, suddenly standing.

His trained eyes are fast enough to catch her movements, but his body is too old to function against something near immortal and unaffected by the march of time. With unnatural strength she lifts him ofrom the ground, muscle suddenly taught under her neatly pressed shirt with the seams threatening to rip.

Sharp canines stand more prominently just behind her lips.

“I wouldn’t say failure,” she slurs out in a half-growl. “Come on, Wally,” she sighs, “it’s scary to be a kid sent into a warzone.”

He struggles to breathe in her grip and raises his hands to uselessly grasp at her arm. Damn the gloves, that don’t let him uselessly dig his nails into her skin. Damn the silver wire, which would have no effect whatsoever on her flesh.

“Try to convince me this time.” She drops him and he lands on his feet, sinking lower to avoid a stumble that would otherwise send him to the ground on his rear. Her smile falls into neutrality, and her once happy eyes are open and cold, scanning his body for every twitch of muscle.

Walter takes her gracious pause to catch his breath, straightening his front again. This time it’s more than a few millimeters out of place.

“Millennium is the defunct branch of the Nazi miliary that specialized in the supernatural,” Walter repeats with a measured voice. “They had two projects—both of which you have reports on. Alucard and I eradicated them. There is no current base of operations.”

“Alucard didn’t eradicate shit,” Claire grunts, cracking her neck again. “He’s the laziest bastard I’ve ever met. And as for you—you were a kid. And I am not a damn fool.” She snorts and the faintest breath of smoke follows. The faint scent of sickly sweet applewood spreads around her and Walter wonders if he could be looking at a demon out of hell. “I won’t be nice if I have to ask again.”

Instead of snapping back that she isn’t nice now—a surefire way to see what interrogation tactics she’d be testing, the butler steels himself. He just has to buy time. It was a mistake to not have a panic button—to be alone—but he was the only one that could take her.

“The Werewulf project,” Walter starts with an emphasis on his pronunciation, “was a failed attempt to create more werewolves. If—hypothetically speaking—a scientist had escaped and resumed work, we would not know what that work entailed nor their current base of operations.”

Claire tilts her head to the side and closes her eyes. Taking this relaxation as a break, Walter takes a silent step to move behind his chair to get something between them and she lunges. He goes down with a graceless thud, wrestled onto his front despite pitting his entire strength against her as she pulls his arms back and folds them across like he were some lowly convict to be arrested.

“Now, hypothetically speaking, if some of my good friends in government had a Werewulf recipe, that would imply the existence of a living scientist.” Claire all but growls in his ear. Her breath tickles the hairs on the side of his head. Her heat and weight on top of him are crushing—she is far more than the average human and now she is bearing her hand. “I’m going to learn everything you’ve got on them.”

She exhales again and a puff of smoke hits his face like she is a raging bull staring down a red flag.

“Think wisely before you try to bullshit me again. You’re not a kid anymore and I’m not as lenient with grown bastards.” The slur of her words make his stomach churn. From the floor, he can only hope the agents heard the commotion. If he screamed, there was no predicting what the wild animal on his back would resort to. Murder was not out of the realm of possibilities.

“I have nothing further to tell you,” Walter snaps only to bite his lip when, with a flick of her finger, she breaks the pinky on his left hand. The crack was not the worst thing he’d heard, but he had only 9 left before she had bigger bones to go for.

“Try again.”

“Go to hell.”

Crack.

He grits his teeth and muffles a cry, writhing underneath her until he can get a grip on himself. His fingers throb and he looks up at the door, somewhat blurred with his monocle having slipped from his nose. Not nearly close enough with the immovable weight on his back. The butler tries for another deep breath and he can feel her stare right through him as he inhales somewhat shakily.

Despite his best efforts, he is not as good as he was in his prime.

“Can’t you respect top secret information?” Walter tries, wincing when her laugh shakes him.

“Not when it’s in my back yard, Wally.” She takes the breaking hand and pats his head, running her fingers through his hair in a way that almost has his heartbeat slowing before she tangles her fingers in it and lifts up. “You ain’t covering for Arthur, here,” she rumbles.

“Weren’t you the one remarking on his competence?”

Claire immediately knocks his head into the floor, nose first. The carpet is not enough to cushion the blow and his nose makes another softer crack. His head starts to spin and blood trickles out onto that same carpet, down his lips and onto the floor.

“You’re awfully callous in the house of your allies,” he grunts.

“You’re not being very allied,” she quips back, flat face reemerging into a smile that Walter can pick up out of the corner of his eye. The throb in his hand and now in his face is a keen reminder that she doesn’t care about the repercussions. It is a sign of feral desperation. It is a monster that turns to the one thing that usually works. He will not let her win.

So he proverbially bites his tongue and settles on the floor. She can beat him further, but she won’t know. He won’t threaten his life’s work over a project he knows nothing about. That’s the least of his worries.

The werewolf gives a pause for his silence, fingers tightening to pull his hair in a way that makes him almost gasp. But like she can feel it she lets him go with a huff and a sneer, glowering down at him with glowing blue eyes and a disgusted quirk of her lip.

The wordless exchange results in another broken finger that has him wheezing, starting to struggle under her body mass as she threatens to crack his ribs when she tests a light bounce.

“Looks like you don’t mind the fingers,” she snarls, “how would you feel about a little lick of fire?” She leans low and huffs in his ears again. This time, thick smoke seems to unfurl from her tongue down his cheek, mixing with his blood and taunting him with that same sickly sweet applewood and a hint of death. Embers leave a near pinch on his skin when they land.

“Doesn’t matter what I tell you,” Walter struggles, ignoring the smell as his hair starts to singe and a sweat breaks out on his skin. Her hand almost burns where she holds his wrist. His whole hand throbs.

Crack.

Another finger and she chuckles darkly above him. “I’m really running out of patience,” Claire slurs, “and I don’t believe in that new age shit like waterboarding.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that’s a mercy?”

“Well, it’s hard to answer when the water is boiling.”  

A bead of sweat drips down Walter’s forehead. Claire puts more of her weight on his chest and he struggles to breathe, air hot and dry in a way that burns his throat.

Crack.

The last finger on his left hand. Finally he gasps, heart racing in his chest as he stares up at that piercing blue gaze. The reaper, fueled by the fires of hell, closes in.

“Last chance.” Claire’s voice is almost indistinguishable between the deeper slur and the pounding of his blood in his ears. Walter pants, chest uselessly heaving as she leans down to hiss near his ear again, promising a wicked scorch.

Then, the door opens.

Claire is off his back, warm smile surely on her face. The heat recedes.

In the hallway, Walter looks out at the other agent that just arrived and knows his blood, too, runs cold at the sight of an unrepentant monster. “T—the Lord of the estate wishes to see you,” is all the agent can stammer, wide eyes falling to the not broken but still bloodied man on the floor. When he wheezes without her weight on top of him, he figures she might’ve cracked a few ribs anyway.

“Is that so? What a right shame. Wally and I were having a pleasant discussion.”

The other agent opens and closes his mouth before shaking his head. “Follow me.”

“Will do,” Claire drawls. Walter turns his head to look up at her and her smile widens to a sickening degree. Just as she lifts a foot to step over him, she delivers a swift kick to the ribs leaves a resounding crack and leaves him coughing up blood.

As a final fuck you, she reaches back to crush his monocle with her other foot and walks towards the now terrified agent. The man pulls his gun from its holster and, with admittedly straight aim, orders: “Ma’am step away from the agent.”

“No need for that,” Claire chortles with raised hands like she hadn’t just been on her way to beating him to a pulp. “I’m coming peacefully.”

The other agent bites his tongue but nonetheless leads her out. Behind him, other agents with a medic flood in to tend to him. They had heard the commotion and the interruption took only minutes. Even Arthur’s voice, chastising Claire down the hall for getting rough without him present—was a welcome reassurance that the hard part was over.

In the back of his mind, Walter knew Claire wouldn’t threaten the head of Hellsing, or double back around for him, or even be welcomed on the grounds again while he was present. They had learned. It was a dangerous slip that ultimately costs the butler the dexterity in one hand and a slight imperfection to his otherwise symmetrical face, but it’s the smallest price he can pay for his chance at glory.  If anything is suspected by his countrymen, it isn’t brought up.

[pandorafallz]

Vampire AU | A night at Hometree

As predicted, the rain got to the point where the return was not an option, even for the early return and everyone had returned to the shelter of Hometree with their work or to play games and settle for peaceful tasks and since most of the humans were still getting to know Hometree and the general location, they didn’t wander out either and stuck close to their assigned jobs.

A few children had gotten interested in some of the newcomers and were playfully asking questions and convincing them to play a few games with them. Jerome had put together a makeshift soccer ball made of dried Yerik Bladder that had some weight to it- enough to feel like a kickable ball in the gravity of Pandora—and Harper had taught a group of kids how to play. A new game for the children and enough players, Jake reasoned that it allowed some of the more stressed parents to get a break by the fire with some tea.

“You know, we could give them coloured strips to tuck into their loincloths for each side?” Kendra spoke to Harper, watching the kids score.

“You think they need that? I think them just having fun is the goal. Turning it into a competition is another thing if you put real sides to it.” Harper mused, snorting as Ashley failed at dribbling before the ball was gone by a quicker teen.

It was remarkable, as Jake watched, to see how quickly the children had picked up the sport though his main gripe about it was the fact Kendra had introduced it as Football, not Soccer. She must have some Britishness to her to be calling it that. American football, he knew wouldn’t do well with the Na’vi; it was far more violent than kicking a ball around but still…. a good portion of humans here came from America. He would have thought they’d use the same names for shit to not confuse the Na’vi.

Kendra patted Harper’s arm, bending down to pick up her basket of tiny (relative to Na’vi) animal bones then headed his way.

“Did you live in England for a bit, by any chance?” He couldn’t help but ask as she passed.

Kendra paused, giving him an odd look. “What makes you say that?”

“You called it Football, not Soccer.” Jake pointed out, “We all know Soccer is the correct term.”

“The British invented its current form, so they have the right to call it football,” Kendra spoke, her eyes twinkling though her tone disapproving. “You Americans just changed British Rugby a little and slapped a new name on it by calling it football and got enough of your population to believe it.” She said.

Jake blew a raspberry. “It is better.”

“Well, given your version of the sport isn’t being played right now on this planet, I think it’s safe to say that Football is the correct term that the Na’vi can understand. Playing Ball with the feet.” She said with a victorious grin. “And yes, I was born in England. My grandparents moved out of Japan to the UK when my mother was seven after the 2100 Earthquake and Tsunami. It was rough but they made it work.”

Jake hummed, wincing a little but she just carried on to deliver the bones towards the far ring of weavers which had grown as young adults were putting together new clothes of near-complete works. As soon as the bones were delivered, there was a mild scramble for them to get a good look and to see if they were suitable. Many looked like they’d be going to rider’s flight visors or women’s shirts.

It was perhaps reflex that Jake dropped his spindle of thread as a shadow quickly appeared in his peripheral. His hands rose automatically before—

Bam!

“Fuck!” His hands stung painfully, the ball launching off elsewhere by rebound but at a lesser speed. His skin tingled and he could feel the crawling burn rise to the surface of his palms.

“Oh my god, Jake!” Harper’s voice was muffled by a few others.

He hissed a little, his palms turning redder and redder but his heart hammered out of sheer surprise of it but he sucked in a few calming breaths. An accident, it was just an accident. Fuck that it was him in its way though.

“Back off guys,” Nadine’s voice called, her presence appearing beside him, her cold limb coming to his wrist to check. “Let’s help him back to Mo’at. He’ll need something cold to reduce swelling.”

“I will help.”

Jake’s head turned up in surprise though the stinging to see Neytiri of all people appear from the depth of Hometree and then crouch next to him in concern.

“May I?”

“Okay.” He leaned into her, allowing her to scoop him up but… he found that he didn’t quite mind and it made his heart flutter. She was gentle but swift—also her necklaces barely covered her breasts which made him realise his elbow was no doubt digging into those wonderful parts of the female body. He debated for a moment if moving his arm was worth bringing it to attention or just ignore. Na’vi clothing had some rules but not as strict or as prude as humans. The body, especially female breasts wasn’t sexualised so… he reasoned that ignoring was the best course of action and keep his hands to himself. It was his elbow that was in contact given the type of hold she had him in.

Plus his hands fucking hurt. He didn’t need another injury and…lest not from inappropriate behaviour.

But, before he knew it, he was being set down on a mat where the den was empty of the resident Tsahìk who was no doubt attending elsewhere. It crossed his mind that Mo’at couldn’t spend all her days in the den but it was amusing for a second to think that. Like every human kid thinking that their teacher lived in the school.

“I will fetch water. Keep your hands elevated.” Neytiri said.

He nodded, keeping his hand sup though he didn’t wait long before she returned with a bowl of water and set it down in front of him. He sunk his burning hands into it, almost withdrawing it by the sharpness of the water but breathed through the discomforting throb. It was like his hands had little heartbeats.

But, it did feel a little better as the intensity of the burning began to recede, he swirled his hands in the basin for a moment and felt the flow of the water between his fingers.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you.” He sighed out heavily. “Just…a little surprised.”

“Hm, you have fast reflexes,” Neytiri remarked, eyeing the cups before she found the new ingredients of what she was looking for. “Especially reflecting something that you didn’t see coming.” If he didn’t know any better, he was sure she almost sounded impressed.

“I saw a shadow in the corner of my eye, I guess my marine reflexes kicked in.” He reasoned off casually.

“Still, its markings are of that of a warrior or a hunter.” She mused.

“Well, we haven’t started lessons yet. Can I start coming over in my avatar more often than every other if it’s for training days? I can’t train as a warrior in my human body and… I don’t think it’s effective training if it’s every other visit that I get trained.”

Neytiri eyes him for a moment, contemplating for a moment. “No, at least not at Hometree. I can suggest to my father that I will come on your days away from Hometree to continue your training.”

“You will need days of rest if you are to care for your human body.” Mo’at’s voice echoed, making them both jump.

Jake almost tipped the water out of the bowl, leaning up from his slouch and staring up at the Tsahìk in alarm. Neytiri simply jumped to her feet with her tail high and ears perked before they softened back.

“But, that is a good suggestion. You should talk to your camp about it as your absence or training may affect your chores required. Now, hands?” Mo’at requested.

Jake held his hands out, allowing her to examine.“I suppose. N’deh says I’m not ready to hunt, only fish, that I need to learn to See the world around me or to start Seeing.”

“Did he now?” Mo’at didn’t sound…disapproving, which often would be in someone’s tone for that question. “You do not see?”

“I don’t…know what that means,” Jake admitted. “No one’s explained it's...signficance to me. I think the others assumed I knew or knew enough at this point. Felt…kinda awkward to ask them.” It was like not getting someone’s name at a group when instructions happened but it was too deep into a conversation to stop and ask.

Mo’at glanced at Neytiri for a moment. “It is…not something that is strictly taught. It is felt. A connection to one another or as N’deh implied, a connection to life and Eywa herself. You do not believe in Eywa? Not her gifts around her? What she provide even for you?”

Jake refrained from shrinking under her sharp gaze. “Belief is...is a strong word. I do not…fully believe on the account of me…not seeing such proof in understandable qualities I can understand.” He said carefully, “Humans love proof of concepts to believe. I’m sure you know Grace and the scientist’s habits in that regard.”

Mo’at tipped her head. “I have…seen their difficulties in acceptance. But…I’ve come to realise with you sky people that…you hold onto proof far too tightly, you demand more proof despite evidence. The Dreamwalker couple of your camp have passed through the eye of Eywa and returned with new bodies. Is that not enough proof?”

Jake frowned curiously. Mulling her words over. There was no…denying the possibility but… he could feel that there was some part of him unconvinced. That there was some scientific reason for it.

“It’s a culture thing to deny like that.”

All three heads turned to see Ruby in the den entryway, her arm up and her hand bleeding. She looked a little sheepish having been overhearing but Neytiri moved first to offer a space to her and reached for her arm to examine.

“In what way?” Mo’at asked, “I fail to understand why sky people hold onto distrust, even here and for you, Jakesully to be out here for over a month.”

“It’s a culture thing, Mo’at,” Ruby said tightly. “You don’t know Earth. What daily life is like? Belief has to come with scepticism for survival. If a child comes to you for help, claiming that their mother or sibling is sick then that is either a child genuine or a child tasked to lure someone away to a bad fate. Happened to my second cousin once, they found his skeleton six months later under a bridge.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake said, sympathetically.

“You cannot trust at face value. Trust on Earth can kill.” Ruby sucked in a heavy breath, letting Neytiri wipe the blood. “That carried into other aspects of life in our culture. Someone might be playing around, making a joke or simply lying. If you believe that, then you’re considered a fool. Someone to be laughed at or ridiculed at.”

“It is linked back to your closed hearts, then,” Mo’at concluded from her words. “I am sorry for the loss of your family member. Truly.”

Ruby just nodded, “Thank you.”

Neytiri continued to tend to Ruby’s hand quietly, though a simple binding was used as the cut wasn’t too deep or long for stitches. Mo’at set Jake’s hands back into the water.

“I also think humans don’t like their beliefs challenged.” Jake mused, “It pushed us into denial very quickly and we get defensive.”

“Pride?” Ruby suggested.

“That too.” Jake wasn’t a fool to dismiss that motion. “Like…I get why the Na’vi believe. It’s their culture and I understand the concept that they can bond and connect and all but… humans don’t have that. We have no tswin. We have no foundation of which that belief can grow.”

“You need proof,” Neytiri said simply. “You need to see her around her, to hear her in the wind or to hear her voice in your ear…”

Mo’at spared a quiet moment of contemplation, her lips pursed tightly and her brow pulled in then spoke to Neytiri in Na’vi. Jake caught fragments but their words were quicker than he could translate. Ruby though looked to be following along, examining her bandage to look busy.

Mo’at didn’t look thrilled by a suggestion coming from Neytiri, though Jake for some reason held the Tsahìk’s gaze before something looked decided.

“We can…show you means of finding a connection with Eywa, but for now we do not know how to show sky people. With your Dreamwalkers, it is possible. If enough of you were convinced, would convincing the others be easier?”

Jake spared a glance to Ruby who frowned, uncertain but looking curious enough to not shy away.

“Possibly, but…how?” Ruby asked carefully.

“Tsaheylu. Nothing more. Your Dreamwalkers can bond with the Great Mother that your native bodies cannot. However, the sites are forbidden for outsiders….unless permission of either Tsahìk or Olo'eyktan is granted.” Neytiri spoke.

“You don’t look thrilled, Mo’at.” Ruby remarked, “You’re not for it?”

“I am protective of our sacred sites. It is the duty of Tsahìk to ensure the sanity of our ancestral sites.” Mo’at spoke. “It is not a…easy suggestion but it is one that makes sense and has plausibility to show you our belief.”

“Four Dreamwalkers, both myself and you. No one brings any equipment but their own Dreamwalker bodies.” Neytiri suggested. “They would not offend to bring unsanctioned items with them.”

“Do we…have to do this?” Ruby asked next.

“No, the choice is yours.”

Ruby relaxed a little. “I’ll…talk to Zane about it.” She got to her feet, pushing the long plat of hair off her lap then over her shoulder and padded out quickly.

Neytiri watched her leave before something clicked, her head tilting away though Jake was surprised she looked at him. “Have they been told of your blood demons yet?”

“No. I was gonna wait till morning to tell them. It’s…not gonna be easy.” Then he snorted, “You know, getting us to believe in Eywa is probably gonna be far easier than getting them to believe in vampires.”

Mo’at considered. “That may be, but both require the sky people to change their beliefs. I suppose you may understand our frustration at your disbelief.”

Jake hummed. That was…not an unfair statement. Accurate. He knew he was missing the pieces that can’t just be learned so simply. He flexed his fingers under the cool water, lifting them out as Neytiri gestured but she looked satisfied to see the redness was less intense.

He was soon cleared from the healing den but his usage of sore hand were to be kept to a minimum so Neytiri set him next to the fires to watch the cooks and Nadine work. She was happy to wheel him closer and help sort through fresh, live Teylu from the dead that would be returned to Eywa rather than be served to the people. Apparently, children picked many without seeing the harm of being too rough in their harvesting.

“Teylu is safe for humans,” Nadine said, “Rich in protein and apparently sweet as well, but they’re going to steam them with… some vegetables. I’m managing the ones for humans since they added a herb that’s not safe for humans into their Teylu’s food prior to being cooked. It adds to the flavour but I’d rather not be on the loo all night.”

Jake snorted, staring a little at the giant grub in his hands. Massive in his hands but…in the Na’vi they looked small. The Teylu were at least ten centimetres long and very fat, but seemed to be curled up and trying to search for its natural food, not realising it was going to be his dinner. It…was uneasy. He didn’t like the idea of eating bugs but…this was normal for the Na’vi. He was gonna have to grit his teeth and bear it.

“I’m going to wrap them in edible leaves. Lots of veg so the crunch will not be the teylu.” Nadine assured, clearly sensing his discomfort. “The flavour will make up for the texture.”

He hoped so.

 -

The humans stuck together as dinner was handed out, not as close as Jake had been before to the fire, but more off to the left their smaller size made them feel puny sitting next to so many big people so, a group made sense. Jake was carried and sat between Morgan and Nadine.

Nadine was vague in her description of the food when Mingxia asked what it was when she started to eat. Neither Ruby nor Ashely seemed to add to it for clarification and both ate without questioning it; they knew what they were eating. Ruby with a little more upturned nose until she actually got to taste then her attitude lightened up.

Jake eyed his lead wrap for a moment, then took a solid breath and lifted his mask for the first bite.

The taste was…better than Jake expected and he didn’t let his intrusive thoughts go off and gross him out. The flavours were a mix between sweet and savoury with a surprising kick of spice that tingled at his palette. His stomach rumbled for more and he was handed a few more when his first was done.

“This is amazing. Thank you, Nad.”

Nadine smiled around her bite, “The other cooks are wonderful teachers. I might see about what other things we have that might work. Teylu don’t eat spice but they do marinade in it. It’s fascinating how they basically marinate it alive first by letting them consume selective herbs and then steaming them before full digestion.”

“Have you never had Teylu before?” Neytiri moved from her place to join behind him. “Not at your camp?”

Morgan hummed, shaking his head as an answer. “Jerome has a slight phobia with caterpillars or…insects with a similar form. Apparently when he was seven, his older sister pulled maggots out of a dead pigeon and put them in his bed because he stole her toy and refused to give it back. He can tolerate them now but he won’t eat them.”

“Plus, plenty of fish and meat with our small numbers. So we don’t need to rely on Teylu.” Jake reasoned, taking another bite after an inhale of safe breath.

Neytiri lent down, sniffing a little. “What did you put in that? It smells…different. Hotter.”

“Just some Capsaicin-based fruits,” Nadine said, much to Neytiri’s horror who lent away from his leaf wrap. “Gives it a nice kick.”

“You eat the burning plants?!”

“Yep,” Nadine gave the woman a grin, “Humans love spice, we’ve made Capsaicin-based sauces called hot sauce, and we’ve had wars over the spice trade because they’re so desired. It went global. Na’vi can’t eat Capsaicin like us. They can tolerate Menthol-based plants a little, like…their version of mint but nothing stronger.” Nadine added to the group. "I bet that some of our spices could probably kill a Na'vi but we'd be fine."

Neyriri eyed their Teylu rolls more wearily.

Ashley cocked her head. “You added capsaicin to mine too?” though she looked down thoughtfully but she looked very weary. “I…feel a kick but I’m not suffering.”

Nadine’s eyes widened for a moment, “Oh god, I forgot that the avatars—wait, you’re good? No burn-y-burn-y mouth? I definitely gave you the human version. I didn’t think….”

Ashley nodded, ears flicking as she took another test bite. “It…kinda tastes sharp, some heat but nothing that’s hurting or burning. It’s…normal. Could do with some more spice.”

“You still have human fragments in your avatar’s DNA. We may have a better tolerance for us in our other bodies.” Jake pointed out, though he felt a deep sense of relief. “Oh, that’s wonderful news. If we get more spicy plants, we can make our own hot sauce. I have pepper and chilli seeds in Tommy’s seed collection. I bet we could get a few seeds and get them growing. Add more to our variety. We could do camp trades.”

The group seemed to perk up at that.

“That…sounds like a good suggestion. Our areas are very remote to yours.” Harper said, eyeing the Teylu thoughtfully. “We have found a good few plants. We can take pictures and show them when we’re next here. Do you have a radio?”

“No,” Morgan said, “but I knew a few places we can get one. There are a few abandoned link shacks we can raid. I’ve seen a few there we can repurpose any of them.”

“Abandoned? How many?”

“We used a virus to wipe Hell’s Gate’s server of Link Shack locations. We should have free pickings.” Nadine said.

“Not entirely.” Ruby shook her head. “Dr Augustine had memorised a portion of the link shacks. The ones we stole were from the recovered list.”

“Which shacks? I can cross them off as potential targets.” Nadine mused.

“Site 7, which was the one you stole, Jake,” Ruby added to him.

Jake just grinned. A little victory of making the RDA pissed off at him was very good. Still, shame it was recovered so soon that they couldn’t struggle for longer on what he took.

“Then… Site twenty-six, thirty-two, Thirty-six, thirty-seven, forty-seven….sixteen and seventeen.” Ruby considered, counting on her fingers as she spoke. “We stole site thirty-six and thirty-seven’s modules and remote lab. Two other groups are stationed at Thirty-two and sixteen, so those are to be avoided. Dr Augustine’s favourite link shack is at Site 26 in the floating mountain.”

“Ooh, that’s a tempting site to go for. I bet that shack is kitted out with the best stuff.” Harper mused, “Head of SciOps, she probably has position perks to get what she wants in that. Last year, they refurbished it with plans of adding another few modules or a remote lab like what Ruby stole. It was put on hold after there was some sort of crash. Dr Augustine, Captain Hale and the pilot survived.”

Jake’s thrill of raiding link shacks dampened the more he heard. It was a tempting target and if Augustine wasn’t a vampire, he would have been one-hundred per cent down for raiding it and to annoy the fuck out of her by stealing all the good shit out of it for their needs; they’ll just get a replacement at the end of the day.

But… she was a vampire. A dangerous creature that… he wasn’t willing to put their neck into the noose, even if it was for their needs.

“You will leave Grace’s home as it is.” Neytiri spoke first, “It is quite the distance, after all, and high in the mountains. It would be in your best interest to avoid it as one would with a Palulukan den.” Her eyes fixed them with a heavy stare, one at a time to ensure each of them nodded. “Good. There is another metal home you are to avoid as it appears to be closeted to your home, Ruby….” Neytiri mentioned, directing this to the woman in question, going on to derive it and its appearance. Jake realised she was talking about the vampire home he had heard about. Another wise choice.

“In a few weeks’ time, we’ll have weed,” Nadine announced once they had settled into a lapse following Neytiri’s words.

“Bullshit.” Harper scoffed.

“Let’s not dismiss this so quickly, Trin.” Mingxia elbowed the soldier, “Go on, and please… for the love of god not be kidding.”

“Nope. Thanks to Jake’s dearly departed brother, we have the glorious seeds planted and growing as we speak. Far faster than anticipated but growing fast indeed. Jerome thinks the first batch will be in two weeks’ time.” Nadine said gleefully, though she reached to pat Jake’s arm softly.

“Add that to a trades list we have yet to get up,” Kendra said, her eyes alight. “It’s been so long since I hit a joint and it was shit. We need to see if there’s local flora that’ll work with it. Enhance the experience.”

“I can have a look.” Ashley said, “Tomorrow once we’re back.”

“I’ll help,” Mingxia added in.

Soon enough the people began to vanish away for their hammocks. Jerome and Kim seemed to vanish up as well with the rest of the people with a brief good night.  The humans stayed around, waiting to see what arrangements could be made for them.

“Not all of the sky people are suited to hammocks.” Tsu’tey’s voice was questioning as he spoke to Eytukan, standing close to being heard. “Nor did we expect them all to spend the night.”

“Their size makes them suitable for a few to share a single hammock, they can pair up. Those who cannot have a hammock may simply rest in the healing den for ease of movement.” Eytukan decided,

“I guess, Nad and I are going in the healing den. You can put your arm and leg on charge.”

Nadine hummed, moving to find her bag that was hung up near the spire and pulled it off and carried it with her to the healing den. Ashely didn’t bother with the hammocks for some reason but Jake accepted her help up and allowed her to carry him up and set him onto a mat, avoiding Nadine pulling off her arm.

“Thank you,” he nodded to her. “No hammock?”

Ashley nodded at his thanks, as she pulled a mat from the side though shook her head at the question. “I’d rather stick to the floor for now. I don’t…want to leave my avatar there. Even if Kendra volunteered to small-spoon me.”

“Alright.” Jake adjusted his legs out on the mat and then lay back, making sure to test the seal on his mask was good. He was gonna wake up with rim marks, that was certain.

“Night.” Nadine yawned.

 -

Grace should have expected the visit long before the two came to her quarters directly, although she had heard noise isolation headphones on, their steps were easy to identify when they crossed the 5-meter threshold and opened up her door without knocking as well but Grace didn’t look up from her datapad to greet them.

“You know, knocking in polite.” She reminded, reaching up to remove her headgear. “I could have had company or be in a far more awkward predicament.”

Mansk moved in, shutting the door after Walker. “Your attempt to get out of Site 26 has failed. Selfridge has reconsidered his options. He wants you there in two weeks maximum.”

Grace groaned. “Asshole.”

“We could steal the modules and set them up with 43’s RoLab we have hidden away. That way, they can’t put you there.” Walker suggested. “That’s the simplest option. It could be blamed on the people who took off on us.”

“There are at least six spare modules in Hell’s Gate mass storage bay. They’ll just bring them with them if the original modules are gone.” Mansk answered. “We can brainstorm ideas but let’s just tackle the fact that your food situation is our first priority, even for a few days.”

“Trudy will be the pilot, I’m assuming.” Grace sucked on her teeth for a moment. It wasn’t a bad choice; she did like Trudy. “but…it can’t be more than one vampire going out there with me. I can’t feed on the humans I have as well; that’ll draw up more suspicion and I won’t have as much access to drugs to up their blood count in the meantime.”

“We can stop using blood bags ourselves unless we have to, there’s a supply run every week the pilots would do. We can send the bags through her to you or you’ll have to run back to Hell’s Gate to eat, the latter not ideal.” Mansk decided, coming to lean against the door.

“We could decorate the bags with opaque medical covering. Make it look like dietary supplements that you need.” Walker added. “No one would think about it. If the humans of your group ask and wonder then you have a plausible reason.”

“I can last three days without feeding but I’d need two bags to satisfy for another three days. That’s if I don’t expand my energy with my abilities.” She could do the math easily to see it would be quite the stretch on their supply and more so on the long-term side of things. “If I have to, I’ll get back to Hell’s Gate. I can convince the humans to not question if they notice.”

“Who will you have with you?”

“Norm Spellman. He’s a new face as well which may help the cause. I could have a second researcher but… with him and the pilot, that’s less eyes on me. I can cover enough with another driver beside myself.” She did consider a few faces to join. One bright and idealistic soul was Bibi Levson but she wasn’t yet due here for a few months on the next resupply but she had heard good things of the woman’s work. Also rumours the woman was easily excitable about Pandoran plants but also, she may have a fangirl which would be awkward as hell so she’d need to get the girl saturated with work and less about her.

“Two humans. Good.” Mansk scratched his jaw thoughtfully.

“I’ll talk to Shen about getting the ‘suppliants’ logged into the standard request rather than it being flagged as contraband. Dr Solis can get the packs ready. You can bulk-take some in advance as well.” Walker mused.

“I’ll start getting the staff prepped tomorrow.” Things hopefully should be ready and stable by the time she’d have to go. She still wanted to talk to Hale about getting her memories back but, she could another time.

She waved the two out of her room, reaching for her headphones. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

 -

Of course, the peace didn’t last for more than ten minutes before there was a flutter of steps at her door but it was the little heartbeat of the baby that stopped Grace from dismissing whoever it was from interrupting her again.

“It’s open.” She called, though she smiled a little at the sight of the sleeping baby as Paz came in though her expression fell as Paz looked worried. “Everything okay?” Grace set her headset back off to the side. 

“His more vampire side is starting to become more obvious,” Paz said, coming to sit straight on Grace’s bed to better support her child. “He’s teething and… I think they’re sharp teeth. Not blunt human teeth.”

Grace’s eyes flickered down to the infant, her eyebrows pulling in before she leaned forward. “Which makes feeding him a lot harder too.”

Paz’z hand came to her breasts. “Yep, I am well aware.”

“He can’t be on your milk forever. His diet… may be more human than ours but… he won’t suit for fruit or veg if his teeth are sharp.” A meat eater, most likely seemed the next logical conclusion that made sense for his biology. His body would need more than blood.

“I was thinking that but… where are we to get his food without questions? People will wonder why he won’t eat fruit. Hell, if anyone sees him licking some bloody meat, they’re gonna be concerned.”

“Humans can eat Hexepede meat, maybe we could get him onto Pandoran meat?” Grace suggested.

“We can’t consume Pandoran blood, Grace. I doubt he’ll be able to stomach it.” Paz stroked her son’s hair cautiously.

Grace sighed but Paz wasn’t incorrect. It wasn’t for the lack of trying but for some reason, they couldn’t keep animal blood from the wildlife down. She had tried, Mansk had tried when he first turned and even Choi had tried. It was weird, the blood was more or less the same in iron-based composition, with the same necessary proteins and nutrients but…they just couldn’t keep it down.

“He still has his human side, that’s still vastly more prominent.” Grace tried, “We should at least try. If not, we can rethink on blood redistribution with me. Soak what meat the mess has in blood and let him have that.”

Paz wrinkled her nose but nodded. “I suppose. But…his breathing is also different. The gaps between his breaths are longer now. I… I think he’s becoming less dependent on oxygen, or at least is more tolerant of lower oxygen levels.”

“His fingers not changed colour?”

“No, his heart is normal, skin nice and pink.” Paz tugged a little hand into view, Mile’s little hands coming to clench around her index finger.

“Tomorrow night, have Solis take a look at his lungs. Medical scanners may show something. If his lungs are different, we should see if he’s able to breathe Pandoran air—not actually test it!” she added at the alarmed expression on Paz’s face. “I mean a simple biopsy should reveal. We won’t hurt him but…if he’s caught out; you’re caught out, you need to know if he’s safe to leave at a moment’s notice. A mask won’t fit him until he’s about six unless you hand-make him masks.” She clarified.

Paz’s expression didn’t waver, looking down at the baby in concern. “I can’t leave him with my human friends when his teeth erupt. His bites will be less than amusing. He won’t understand…”

“I can’t be around as much but… Maze or the other scientists would be at your disposal.” She didn’t trust Shen or Hendrick within ten paces of a baby, she cared little about Mansk or Walker on their childcare expertise. Hale would be another option but the woman was the new MineOps head. Less time on her hands.

“If I could join you at Site 26…”

Grace moved from her desk to sit beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Right now, I can’t be sure that’s a good idea. I need to know how one vampire works remotely with a small supply drop. Another with a half-human…might be too much.” She couldn’t say no, but she couldn’t say yes either.

Paz slouched a little, shifting Miles to rest against her shoulder. “I’m just…worried. If his vampire abilities kick in early…he could start climbing the walls…or morph or…something.”

“If he’s babysat with a vampire, then we’ll stop him from doing anything in the company of humans,” Grace assured.

“Okay… but can you look after him now? I need to eat.”

Grace opened her arms for the near-five-month-old. “Of course.” She wouldn’t say no to this. He was deep asleep and a comforting weight of warmth. She had fed a little earlier, so she was good for now.

 -

Jake woke groggily the next morning, his mouth feeling dry and a weight on his stomach. The rim of his mask dug straight in to the side of his face which promised a lingering ache. It took a moment to fully wake up, blinking to see Nadine was using his stomach as a pillow and had somehow wiggled across the den floor to her current position without her other arm or leg still.

Jake tapped on the front of her mask to wake her.

“No.” She grumbled.

“You’re on me. Get off.” He grumbled.

“Comfy.”

“I’m not.” He tapped on her mask until she got annoyed enough to sit up and flash him a middle finger then slunked across the den to retrieve her limbs.

Jake tested his neck, feeling the relieving cracks as the pressure changed then waited.

Tsu’tey was the first to come in. His eyes remained to the still avatar on the mat. “We’ve got Pa’li ready to take you back to your camp, Jakesully. Ikran will take the other camps back.”

“Have they left yet?” Jake asked.

“No, but they’re preparing to. One team is waiting for the Dreamwalker to stir first.”

Jake nodded, “I need to talk to all of them before they leave. They don’t know about vampires. They should be told.”

Tsu’tey’s head tilted. “They are eager to return. You do not have a lot of time, and Neytiri mentioned it would be hard for them to believe you.”

Jake considered his words for a moment. “Would you help me? They know that you are a serious and fierce warrior and unlikely to joke and… well you’ve seen two vampires yourself.”

Tsu’tey’s expression turned somewhat into a frown but he reflected his words. “I can if it’s required.”

“Thank you.”

 -

Getting the hungry and tired groups together took longer than Jake planned, and they sat waiting in a ring near the spiral for the last of the dregs to arrive. Jake sat in his chair, Tsu’tey standing tall beside him as they waited.

“What’s this about, Jake?” Harper yawned, “I wanna go home.”

“I’ve got something to say and…it’s…kinda important for the long-term knowledge.” Jake started, “it…sort of needs an open mind from all of you.”

There was a non-committed, tired confirmation from them as a whole.

“So, Kim and Jerome know about this,” Jake started, seeing the realising cross over the two avatars quickly before Kim rolled her eyes in exasperation, Jerome just…stood there awkwardly. “They don’t really believe and I’m not asking you to believe me either but…as a culture, we’ve been led to believe that myths and stories are just fictional and that…some things don’t exist when…they do.” He started, “So, I will say this thing is real because on Earth I saw shit in the war that validated this thing’s existence, Morgan himself got attacked in Hell’s Gate about it and I’ve seen all evidence on a few people.”

“What is going on here?” Eytukan appeared, eyeing their overly large group forming up. “Is there a problem to be resolved? You are due to return back to your camps, are you not?”

“They are, Eytukan. But Jake is simply informing the new sky people about the blood demons that live in the sky people's village before they go.” Tsu’tey spoke suddenly.

Eytukan nodded softly in understanding. “Now?”

“Blood demon?” Mingxia cocked her head, her voice more of a whisper as she proposed the question to her group. “What the fuck is that?”

“Your people call them Vampires,” Tsu’tey answered as if it was obvious.

The looks of disbelief were immediate, making Jake groan internally at their blatant dismissive nature. Though Jake noted a little of how Ashley’s ears pinned back uncertainly though Kendra’s face lost all colour and tensed up.

Eytukan looked a little surprised at their reaction then seemed to snort in amusement. “Interesting, you do not believe so easily?”

Tsu’tey shorted a little. “<Morons.>”

Jake gave Tsu’tey a soft look, understanding enough to know what he said.

“Jake, please tell me you didn’t convince these people that they actually exist,” Harper sighed. “Vampires are fictional.”

Ashely made an odd noise in the back of her throat, coming to fiddle the end of her tail in her blue fingers. “Not…well, I wouldn’t dismiss it.”

Harper and a few others looked to their camp mate in surprise, “Wait, you believe him?”

Ashely’s ears turned pink, “Look… I saw a few weird things with no context and… I do. Kinda.”

“What weird thing?” Eytukan asked before any of the others could talk her down. “I am interested to know how these beings are living among your kind so silently and with little notice.”

Ashely dropped her tail. “Well, the main thing I sorta remember was…after I got stabbed. I was found by a pilot, Socorro. I was a little out of it but…she got Dr Augustine to help. They must have thought I was too out of it to remember. The pilot’s eyes were like…a black. She used to have brown eyes yet they like…blacked out.” She said, her tail swishing anxiously.

“Entirely or just the iris?” Jake asked.

“Just the iris.” Ashly said, “But… I mostly remember how cold their hand were. Augustine had to hold my neck to keep the blade from slippin’, you see. There might have been some hissing, I think I may have seen some sharp teeth but… I can’t fully recall the details. I didn’t know what I was seeing.”

“You were bleeding out, hallucinations aren’t uncommon.” Harper pointed out dryly.

“What would make you believe?” Jake asked, “Like, Morgan’s got a few bites. I’m sure he can show it to you for proof.”

Morgan squirmed a little to be in the limelight of the uncertain gaze.

“I have seen them myself. You would not call me a liar now, would you?” Tsu’tey spoke.

There was no comment, but uncertainly and some natural disbelief remained in a few of their eyes.  

“Wait, I have an idea…” Kendra stood up and pulled a torch from her belt, one of three she had then stepped around the group towards the former soldier. “Where?”

“What are you doing?” Morgan asked wearily, eyeing the torch

“Looking for proof, now show me, boy.” She asked, though a little impatient.

Morgan glowered but nonetheless shrugged off his vest and leaned his head to the side. It took a second to see before they noticed the reflection across the skin in how the light caught the scars. The bites seemed to reflect almost silvery against Morgan’s dark skin, the one along his neck and shoulder were more prominent of course but…Jake realised that it wasn’t just two scars that lined his skin. If you didn’t include the bite set (like top and lower jaw), then there were at least seven more marks that lingered as she shone the light further across and checked the other side of his neck and shoulders.

“Oh…fuck.” Ashley winced, a little taken back, “Okay, yep that’s nasty.”

“Guys?” Morgan looked worried, “How many times was I bitten? What do you see?”

“A few,” Jake said tightly, glad that one of the others in the group had shut up and looked far more seriously.

Both Tsu’tey and Eytukan watched with a more weary eye.

“They must be venomous, and from…my assumption since I found this out last week, is that the venom contains a fluorescent molecule that lingers in human flesh. Humans have things in our own biology that glow under black light like saliva or blood, so not foreign enough that our bodies don’t break it down. The skin scars have been healed but…the scars of their bites are otherwise still present, even if we can’t see them.” Kendra summarised, though to prove her point, she turned the light to her own neck which showed a horrifying litter of bite marks that disappeared down clothes.

No one was laughing. No one was dismissive. Just shocked silence as Kendra shone the light onto Harper next who squeaked as at learning least three bites were on her neck, one on her left forearm close to her elbow.

“What is that light?” Eytukan asked, following along as Kendra continued to check everyone over.

“Blacklight. Like Na’vi, there’s a visual spectrum of light that we can and cannot see. UV light is a light a little out of our visual spectrum though your people would see it more clearly than us. If we lit a room with UV light or this version of UVA; the black light, the room would look dark to us. UV light can be reflective off certain things. Biological things can…reflect into our visual spectrum when in contact with UV light. Blood, saliva…other bodily fluids than show up in this light as well.” Kendra explained to the chief.

“Oh, come on!” Nadine groaned as a few marks shone up on her flesh arm and shoulder “Me?!”

Jake leant into the light when she got to him with it, allowing her to check his neck and arms though she had to double-check before she answered, “You’re clear. No bites.”

“Oh, good.” Jake felt a swell of relief; he hadn’t been someone’s snack, ever. What a relief. Still, he could pity the others a little. That was one nasty wake-up call to the reality of their monsters.

“Hey, why’s he clear and we’re not?” Nadine asked, looking a little offended.

“To be fair, he has—relatively speaking— just arrived at Pandora” Morgan pointed out, thumbing grumpily over an invisible scar. “Piped up on cryo drugs no doubt, no one wants a snack from that. You’ve been in Hell’s Gate for years. ”

“Lucky ass.” One of the group complained.

“So, I hope that’s enough proof to believe me,” Jake said, glad for one for this discovery; that should shed away disbelief in case anyone else came. “Right now—“

“Oh, what the fuc—What is that!”

Heads turned to see Zane under the light and while he too wasn’t spared the bites, it was the skeletal hand on the back of his flesh one that threw Kendra off.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! It’s my tattoo!” Zane laughed, “It’s a UV Tattoo. It only shows up under UV light.”

“Why didn’t you mention it before?! You freaked me out!”

“I forgot! I can’t see it and I’ve been busy!”

Jake sniggered a little, the tension easing a little. “As I was saying, it’s a lot to process so let’s take today to process this. You can ask questions when we next meet up. But… this is something you need to be aware of. We don’t know how long they’ve been in Hell’s Gate for but we know that they’re using secrecy to keep the peace and eat undisturbed. We don’t want that secret to be spilled—”

“We don’t?!” Harper scoffed, shaking her head. “

“If Hell’s Gate finds out, then the vampires can leave then we’re on the menu. We’re not so protected. The Na’vi cannot protect us against these creatures. So, if you have garlic cloves in your supplies, get them growing then we can trade with them.”

“We have some garlic, and some other root veg” Ruby spoke, “I hate working with garlic. So much fucking paperwork to get into the damn cloves.” She mimed the peeling process with distaste as she got to her feet, tugging Zane up to his feet.

With a dismissing word from Eytukan, the group got up and began to disperse to their rides home.

“Thank you,” Jake added to Tsu’tey mostly.

Tsu’tey’s head nose, curtly nodding. “You are welcome, Jakesully.”

Masterlist

[kaicrose]

How Black athletes are negatively Represented and mistreated by the media.

Black athletes both men and women, have been negatively represented and mistreated by the media for as long as people of color have been able to play sports without segregation. From Football, soccer, tennis and baseball just to name a few  black athletes have been victims from the media. My first example of this is when Jackie Robison became the first African American to play in the MLB in the modern era. This was in 1947 which was before the Civil rights movement. Robison had faced many death threats to his family and to himself and was even threatened by opposing teams just based on skin color. According to Andscape.com “Baseball writers were far more comfortable dressing up in blackface and speaking in black dialect during their skits at their annual banquet than in writing about racism. They used racial pejoratives and stereotypes in print and in conversation. Shirley Povich, who was one of the relatively few mainstream sportswriters who advocated for blacks in baseball, was asked why so few white sportswriters called for the end of the color line. “I’m afraid the sportswriters were like the club owners,” he said. “They thought separate was better.” Obviously in today's world we have moved past segregation in sports and as a country but I think this is a great example to start with to show that this has been around for a while. 

In 2018 Lebron James had a 17 minute interview alongside Kevin Durant with ESPN. According to an article from NPR.com “James discussed family, personal growth and the challenges that come with being black and a public figure in America — including his reaction to the racial slur that was graffitied on his Los Angeles home last May. He also discussed politics and President Trump”. So clearly lebron is speaking out about things that have happened to him recently that were hateful and he was also talking about how president trump had said some questionable and shocking things he had said. In the interview Lebron stated "The No. 1 job in America, the appointed person is someone who doesn't understand the people," the athlete said at one point during the interview, adding that some of the president's comments are "laughable and scary." As we see here Lebron James who is one of the biggest Black athletes on the planet and maybe of all time is practicing his 1st amendment right. Laura Ingrahm from fox news had some rude things to say about lebron like that he was barely “intelligible”, and “ungrammatical.” She then finishes the segment by saying "It's always unwise to seek political advice from someone who gets paid $100 million a year to bounce a ball," she said. "Keep the political comments to yourselves. ... Shut up and dribble." This obviously challenged Lebrons intelligence as a black man and the comment of shut up and drip in my opinion had some racist undertones. Laura Ingrahm had actually gotten called out for her comments on defending Drew Brees a couple years ago as Drew brees made his politcal commets public. Laura had nothing to say about Brees. Drew Brees is also a white man.   

Here is the link to her speaking-https://youtu.be/AlHuaOIvRLY?si=QDFA1kN4EUTbCBtW 

Respone about Drew Brees - https://youtu.be/ege-lfF-TIA?si=hUmO7Zg8mLLArvIL

Serena Williams is one of greatest Tennis players ever to play the sport. If you have watched any sports news channel the last 15 years odds are you have seen a headline of Serna dealing with racism abuse online. She has also dealt with issues involving the French Open on what she could and can’t wear. In 2012 a man named David Leonard who was the chair of the department of critical culture, gender, and race studies at Washington State University decided to record tweets and comments after she had won her 5th Wimbledon title. Some of the awful things that he found during this process where things such as “Serena Williams look like a man with tits, it's only when she wears weave she looks female tbh, what a HENCH BOLD GORILLA!,” “I don't see how in the hell men find Serena Williams attractive?! She looks like a male gorilla in a dress, just saying!”. Not only is she being called a gorilla which is already messed up and racist on its own there are comments on the way she looks saying she looks like a  “Male” . David Lenord also states “The racism that underlies the characterizations of her as hypersexual, aggressive, and animalistic also means that when she dares to express frustration, she's stamped with the infamous "angry black woman" stereotype.” If we are being honest we do not see this type of hate towards white women in the sport and this is a prime example of mistreatment from the media and sexism is also demonstrated. 

In 2020 the UEFA Euros took place. It was England Vs. Italy. This is one of the largest soccer tournaments on the planet. The Game ended up going to penalties as the result of the game ended up in a draw. 3 out of the 5 people who took the penalties were black. All 3 of them unfortunately missed their penalties. There was already a stereotype online that black soccer players are not good at penalties. The problem with online racism and hate towards black soccer players in media is so bad when was watching it live I already knew that the young men Marcus Rashford, 23, Jadon Sancho, 21, and Bukayo Saka, 19, where going to be victims of mistreatment and to be negatively represented by the media. The abuse online was getting so bad that the government was getting involved. Fans that were caught making abusive comments towards the players were facing bans from stadiums and games for the rest of their lives. Marcus Rashford had released a statement saying "I can take critique of my performance all day long... but I will never apologize for who I am and where I came from,". Comments that were made about the players stemmed from fans calling them monkeys and other racial slurs like the N word. Along with these comments there was plenty of talk about how black people are not good at penalties and this is an example of black athletes being negatively represented.  

Here is a video of the Penalty shootout- https://youtu.be/QwvV06FvXbg?si=soHNWeBsENqieMwc 

Black athletes are subjected to negative representation by the media and are often mistreated as well. I hope this Blog has informed you of moments where black athletes have been treated negatively. Things have gotten a lot better since when Jackie Robinson was around and I hope to continue to see improvements in the treatment and representation of black athletes. 

Works Cited

Desmond-Harris, Jenée. “Serena Williams Is Constantly the Target of Disgusting Racist and Sexist Attacks.” Vox, 11 Mar. 2015, www.vox.com/2015/3/11/8189679/serena-williams-indian-wells-racism. 

England’s Black Players Face Racial Abuse after Euro 2020 Defeat | Reuters, www.reuters.com/world/uk/uk-pm-johnson-condemns-racist-abuse-england-soccer-team-2021-07-12/. Accessed 1 May 2024. 

Lamb, Chris. “The White Media Missed the Significance of Jackie Robinson.” Andscape, Andscape, 22 Feb. 2021, andscape.com/features/the-white-media-missed-the-significance-of-jackie-robinson/. 

“Shut up and Dribble- (Full Video).” YouTube, 23 Feb. 2018, youtu.be/AlHuaOIvRLY?si=QDFA1kN4EUTbCBtW. Sullivan, Emily. “Laura Ingraham Told Lebron James to Shut up and Dribble; He Went to the Hoop.” NPR, NPR, 19 Feb. 2018, www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2018/02/19/587097707/laura-ingraham-told-lebron-james-to-shutup-and-dribble-he-went-to-the-hoop.

[dragonstepp]

Following

Blazing something I wrote sure gave me a lot of new friends. So I am following a bunch of folks

I am a huge fan of sports. I love American college football, Notre Dame is my favourite team, and I love auto racing, lately getting into sports car racing and learning about Le Mans. Who said you can never get too old to start learning new things.

Anyway, I have started watching English football (soccer), which is the only thing I have found so far on my selection of TV stations. I am starting to understand the rules, and who to cheer for, though I don't yet have a favourite team. It would probably be Scotland, since I am such a fan of all things Scottish, but have not found anything other than English teams so far.

I got turned on the Ford vs Ferrari a couple months ago, and just bought two books about Le Mans. I was watching stock car, but my favourite driver stops competing. Anyway, I bought the DVD for Ford vs Ferrari, which I started watching because Cait is in it, and got hooked.

I love the Olympics; especially the track and field (yay Usaid Bolt), and most of the skiing in the winter games. Also like the sledding.

Anyway, I am going to blaze this blog and hope to pick up some more new friends.

Politics, sports, Sam, cats, Scotland - all things I enjoy talking about.

Blessed Be, all my new friends and friends to be.

Carol

[captainsquality]

yeah i need my fellow murricans to understand this.

You are right. The superbowl is HUGE here in the US. It's THE sporting event of the year here for most people.

But elsewhere in the world, for the most part, it means jack shit to anybody outside of a lot of us folks being obnoxious about it. Like I need to emphasize this. Other countries largely do not give a single flying fuck about the superbowl.

The superbowl is a US only championship for a US only pro sports league. And I hate to break it to some of you but even in the US, the superbowl isn't nearly as popular as you might think it is. A lot of the people who get excited for it are like me- we don't care about football one way or the other, but family get togethers with lots of tasty food are still something we are on board for. I've been to very big superbowl parties in the past where only a small handful of people paid any attention at all to the game. everyone else just ate and socialized or played games.

And I need to add to the super weird, hypermasculine cisheteronormative, and frankly almost obsessive/fetishistic dismissal and derision for soccer that way, way too many people in the US have. I could write entire essays on the bs sexist asshat Boy Color vs Girl Color shit that is the way americans categorize and tier sports with but like for now. Just know it's a thing.

Conversely, the USA is pretty much the ONLY place in the world I know of that the World Cup is NOT a huge event. And even then, it's still pretty damn big here, too. There are still a lot of soccer fans in the US, even if our numbers pale in comparison to the football obsessed.

Also, The World Cup is an international league. The teams who play are amassed of that country's best and brightest professional soccer players, competing against the best and brightest from a lot of other countries all over the world.

And as far as that goes? The US team is considered a dead fish. They're basically a joke. (The mens team mostly; the US Women's team is actually pretty fucking boss, but we all know why they would be overwritten now, don't we?)

Like essentially the tl;dr is that personally I think a reasonable analogy for comparing the superbowl to the world cup as if they are somehow close or equal is like comparing one million of something to one billion of something. You are delusional, Susan, go to bed.

when Americans compare the World Cup to the Super Bowl

[nalathedgehog]

So I just got done gushing about this to my best friend. But I feel like it bears needing repeating.

As of right now the 2024 Olympics in Paris France are currently happening.

It's day one! And me like the absolute nerd I am, am tracking the games.

Now... I do not do sports. More specifically I have no real opinion on sport culture (slight context. I live in Southern California USA). And sports culture as far as I have the privilege of being apart of is only American foot ball. And unfortunately American football sports culture is littered in homophobia, transphobia, racism, literally everything anti-LGBTQIA+.......... or at least that's how it feels as someone who doesn't fit the mold

So that is to say. The Olympics!!

Now I know and understand the original games 3,000+ years ago had like.. murder for not winning or something and everyone was naked. But setting that aside for a moment. The Olympics is still a 3,000 year old tradition of the collection of the best of the best coming together to play games.

They are very intense games! But games all the same.

All this to say I love the Olympics.

There's something that really fucking gets me about it-- like these are practically children. Like they're 17-28ish and like as of writing this I'm 25 so I'm in their age range but they've worked so hard and become so good at this thing that they do that they get to go to this event that has been being held for 3000 years and show off how amazing they are!!!!

LIKE?? THATS SO COOL???

AND I'M SO PROUD OF ALL OF THEM????????

They're all so impressive!!!! And I hope they all know that they're all amazing even if they don't get a metal---

Like, today there was a Football (Soccer) Match and the matches are 2 hours long. And they Egypt and the Dominican Republic teams tied 0 - 0.

Even if you don't now how to play the game. Do you even ***UNDERSTAND*** how amazingly crazy skilled both those teams are to be able to play for two hours and no one score?? And now they need to play again!!

LIKE-- I don't need to know the rules of whatever they're doing to know that is some wicked nasty crazy amazeballs skills.

And then- I get emotional cause like. It's so hard on their bodies to be that amazing. And this maybe the last time they are physically ever able to perform at this amazing level ever again.

Like they could get hurt at the Olympics and never be able to play again!!!

Or they just get older.

But they'll be able to say they played at the Olympics.

And that's so cool. It's so cool that it's another generation of beautiful amazing people playing games that are so old at a tradition that is so old and that the culture of it is that

These people are amazing and they deserve to be showcased for how amazing they are doing the thing that they are amazing for.

WHICH IS LITERALLY PLAYING GAMES!!!

I'm so proud of them;;; all of them. Every single Olypian metaled or not.

And I hope they get to go home and be told they're amazing even if they didn't metal. Cause they're amazing~

[axvwriter]

Short Spelldrive disccussion

plus Twst Bobo book 2 draft/idea

Since the Spelldrive cards are coming out for the Japanese server, I’ve heard chatter about the discs. I did think they were bulkier than frisbees considering one knocks out the MC. I saw one blog say the discs are made of gold? People been saying it’s lucky all it did was knock out MC.

Though from what I recall, Grim accidentally threw the disc at MC while being real close to them. So to me my thinking is that he released too early so it didn’t have the full power and momentum of a proper throw? I don’t know physics so I’m uncertain.

I’ve been hit with a soccer ball to the stomach while within close range before. It hurt bad, but it didn’t leave a bruise. So with that little information and imagining a metal object being sent to the head, I could totally see it knocking someone out. Probably even doing more damage than that.

Though I do wonder why have the disc be gold and/or heavy at all? If Spelldrive is based off of american football, then the dangerous aspects should come more from the players ramming into each other along with the spells they throw. The disc itself shouldn’t also be a hazard?

If Spelldrive is a bit inspired by Quidditch from the Harry Potter series, then I understand the disc being a danger as well. Quidditch has literal balls that are meant to harm players. Messed up but I guess who cares about damage when there’s potions to regrow bones. Have a Bludger bash out your brains or be tackled so hard your body breaks… I find myself questioning american football considering we don’t have bone regrowing potions as far as I am aware.

So despite the dangers of Spelldrive, I assume the medical staff at NRC is able to handle anything. Though gosh I would hate being the MC forced to play Spelldrive. Like what can MC even do? Maybe throw the disc once if it’s not too heavy… it’s such a magic-heavy sport that all MC can surely do is just run beside the others? Call out warnings and openings, but still, I would like to participate more than feeling like a on field coach.

I also find it a bit disappointing that MC never bothers to ask to see the recordings of the other matches. I know it’s to keep MC from realizing who Hornton is, but we could have had some of the boys decide MC only gets to see certain matches? Like finding any match against Diasomnia to be embarrassing so no watching those?

Ehh, I’m not going to spend too much brain power to figure that out. I just know that such a spell-heavy sport must be so interesting to watch. Though maybe MC is a bit traumatized to the point they don’t want to think about the sport anytime soon. Or has been hit hard enough to forget the tournament was being recorded.

But this does give me an idea for Bobo. I’ve read the translations for the first two manga books and in those both Yuus were suggested to have basically died? Like one almost hit by a vehicle but ends up taken by the carriage to NRC.

So I have the idea that for Bobo splitting off of her canon timeline and into fan twst is where one battle her armor doesn’t activate. She suffers a head injury and blacks out. So upon waking in Twisted Wonderland, she’s quite confused. Was she really hit in the head? What’s going on?

Thus I think being hit in the head by the disc could be a bit of a repeat of her “death”. Heck I need to make some banners to help divide up my posts as I’m about to write a rough draft of what that scene could be like.

~~~

You slowly feel yourself becoming aware of the… nothingness. You must have been sleeping quite deeply. When was the last time you’ve had such a deep, vulnerable sleep? That was something you’d grant yourself within the safety of your home, when naps would no longer suffice. But this time you hadn’t granted such a privilege to yourself.

Aching. Your head is aching. Right, the last time such a deep sleep was forced upon you was when you were… when you were killed, right? But that doesn’t make sense. Those that die don’t wake up. Were you attacked? That lizard… it shouldn’t have been able to land such a painful, ringing blow.

Is your head ringing right now? No… focus… it’s… voices? Voices, which means you aren’t alone awaiting for that lizard to rightfully consume its prey. There’s no sound of fighting, so that must mean… you’re safe.

How did it hit you? Right, your armor never turned on. An impossible feature. It was impossible that defective armor pins were handed to you. Impossible that they weren’t charged. To let such a mistake happen would be a death sentence. Mistakes like that never happened.

Something must be terribly wrong. You have to wake up now! You need to know what went wrong! How could your armor fail?! How could you die?!

Something is touching you now. Something that isn’t human? It feels like fur. Are you not safe?! No no no no no no no No! Calm down, it must just be a bat. If it wasn’t, you’d be hurt by now. The voices wouldn’t be so low.

Where are you? You want to wake up, demand answers, you need to know it was only your armor that didn’t work. That only you died. Died… why do you keep thinking of that word? You’re clearly alive… Something is terribly wrong and you wont get answers sleeping like this!

[themisadventuresofem]

I will compile a list of the sapphic love stories I have read so far!

Yeah, I think it would be cool to be an athletic trainer or something along those lines. I would prefer to work in just soccer but I wouldn’t be opposed to basketball or American football though.

I am actually homeless right now so I don’t live anywhere. Except maybe coffee shops and libraries. They are warmth for the days. For now, I’ll remain anonymous. Just in case I have to disappear from the land of technology. You won’t have to wonder about so and so and where they went. What about you? Where are you located? Just Em?

Yes please! I need all the sapphic books please and thank you.

I cannot for the life of me understand American football, none of it makes any sense to me. I don’t know any of the terminology and I don’t intend to. I bet you’ll be the best athletic trainer there could be. I’ll send out all my good vibes for you.

I’ll still wonder about you, so and so. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you. I’m located in the PNW! Portland, to be exact. Em is short for Emma, but I don’t always like my name so I prefer Em.

[yukimomodivorce]

hi I just remembered that I got tagged in this I never did it and since I've got a while left on my train (I will be late to class) I'm doing it now

Do you make your bed?

I guess I do? I don't make it every day or plan to do it or anything but when it needs making or if it occurs to me I make it

What's your favourite number?

I hate all numbers indiscriminately :)

What is your job?

stereotypical arts student so I'm unemployed. I take casual jobs where I can though, will hopefully be babysitting again this holidays

I also just almost forgot to change trains oops

If you could go back to school, would you?

high school? absolutely not I would rather die. I definitely want to keep going with uni but I'm also gonna say no for that, just cause I wouldn't want to do any of it a second time so far. please take me to third year classes immediately I need to be reading above my grade level

Can you parallel park?

I have never driven a car! it's also been almost exactly a month since I got my learners so that's fun

A job you had that would surprise people?

I haven't really had enough jobs for this. i guess for about a month last year (I quit cause I got overwhelmed) I worked at a fruit and veg stall at a market a couple suburbs away, surprising cause I managed to wake up at 5am on a saturday for it and because they paid us in cash and it was all not very legal

and my lecture starts in 2 minutes and I just got off the train so I guess I am finishing this later

update i made it and I only missed three minutes 👍

Do you think aliens are real?

in the 'futuristic green guy' sense no, in the 'some form of thing living in space' sense probably, but either way I guess you can't really prove that they aren't. same with most supernatural/whatever things, I don't actively think that they're out there but if I was on a walk and some weird green guy came down to earth in a big spaceship I'd just be like ok man

Can you drive a manual car?

again, never driven. I reckon I could do it though

What's your guilty pleasure?

uhhhh I guess if I had to think of something it'd be like. I like bad whiny music that people would probably call emo and/or pop punk. like sleeping with sirens and the front bottoms and the WSTR identity crisis album. idk if you can really call it a guilty pleasure though I don't feel guilty about it I just. enjoy things that I think are not good objectively

Tattoos?

I don't think I can bother with them at the moment but I would want one, if only to spite my mum for saying I would regret the fma tattoo I told her I wanted when I was 10 because that tattoo was awesome I would absolutely still get it and fma has been very dear to me for the past like 8-9 years

Favourite colour?

green! I like any green but particularly more pastel or mint (yuki colour) shades

Favourite type of music?

I hate this question because what do you mean by 'type'. I don't understand genres it's all just vibes to me. my taste is also very inconsistent but i guess I would call my favourites vocaloid songs that go hard, idolish7 songs that emotionally destroy me, and whatever type of music they might giants makes. weirdguy music

Do you like puzzles?

only if I'm good at them

Any phobias?

I have a bug phobia of mystery origin. I don't think bugs are scary I think they're cool and pictures of bugs don't scare me (most of the time) but for some reason if they're big enough and indoors and/or too close to me I start getting heart palpitations and go into fight or flight. I don't understand

Favourite childhood sport?

I was never a sport person for various reasons but the one sport I think I did mostly enjoy as a kid was soccer (american football I'm pretty sure). when I was 6-7 I joined a club my friend was in that was pretty laid back and I liked when I got to be goalkeeper and then the club shut down and I didn't want to move to one of the competitive ones so I quit. majority of extracurriculars I did after that were ones my parents forced me to do

Do you talk to yourself?

not out loud, for whatever reason I find it difficult to speak when I'm not talking to someone else (this was in issue in highschool english because they were obsessed with giving us assignments that were like "make a podcast!" i.e. record yourself giving a speech and I would just turn in the script cause I didn't feel like forcing myself to talk) but internally yeah. when I was in primary school I went through a lot of phases of thinking as if i was talking to the editor of my novel or my imaginary youtube audience or a fictional character. now I just do it directly to myself (I/we depending on the vibes)

What movie(s) do you adore?

treasure planet my beloved. fullmetal alchemist conqueror of shambala is a movie made specifically for me (fma03 and set in the weimar republic and historically accurate. disregarding all the alchemy/magic). also my controversial problematic fave ghibli movie ocean waves <3

Coffee or tea?

definitely tea, I don't really drink either but coffee just tastes bad. like dirt but sad and not even crunchy

First thing you wanted to be when growing up?

not sure about the first, I think the biggest one I was serious about was a fiction writer but I reject that because I only chose it to copy my mum. I'm gonna go with archaeologist cause that's one of the earliest ones I can remember and it ended up being surprisingly relevant

not tagging anyone but as always feel free to consider yourself tagged if you see this!

Ask Meme

I was tagged by @rosencrantzsguildenstern for this ask meme, so why not!

Do you make your bed?

Uhhhh well. Sort of. I definitely make it any time I expect I'm going to have company, but on a weekday when I'm the only one in my dorm room? Nah. I didn't make it when I had a roommate either unless I thought she was going to have company (but she never warned me in advance for that so LMAO)

What's your favorite number?

I'm a lucky 7 kind of gal, but I also really jive with 36 and 81. My factors of 9 <3 <3 <3 If I have to pick one, it's always going to be 7 though

What is your job?

Right now, I work for the US Department of Agriculture! I've worked some other random jobs though, such as a waitress at a high-end retirement home and an assistant at a local hospital

If you could go back to school, would you?

Yes. Absolutely. I would reduce how many classes I take (because haha I am at 22 credit hours right now :')) but I love learning! I don't love all the pomp and circumstance of academia, but I've considered becoming a teacher several times as a career option and I actually have taught in a professional setting before. School's a love of mine that even all the stresses I've put myself through hasn't fully been killed

Can you parallel park?

Yep! My city almost never requires it because it's a newer one and street parking is only really used in our tiny downtown or in neighborhoods, but I can do it!

A job you had that would surprise people?

Uhhhh I think my current job is that, LOL! But even then, once I explain the details of my job, people seem to think it fits me pretty well :)

Do you think aliens are real?

I think that somewhere in space, there's something that could be considered life, but we can't agree if viruses are living, so I doubt that whatever could be "life" in another part of space would fit our current definitions! Evolution is already fucked enough as is, so accidentally going down any path that resembles what happened on Earth feels pretty unlikely to me

Can you drive a manual car?

Yes! I practiced with my grandpa's old car, though I also stalled a few times LOL so I'm not GOOD, but I can do it! With more practice I think I would be fine

What's your guilty pleasure?

I'm not really sure? I'm not really guilty about any of my pleasures because they're all pretty vanilla? In my household it's definitely mayo though. No one in my household likes mayo and I usually have to deal with Bullying of the highest degree if I want to use it when I'm eating with my sister and parents

Tattoos?

Nope! And I don't want to get them either. I have an irrational thing of permanently adding things to my body to the point where I had a surgery to remove a part of my flesh instead of having a tiny metal rod inserted in me. Tattoos are filed under the same "body modification" ick mentally

Favorite Color?

A soft lilac! I also really like the darker, desaturated greens, but purple is my eternal love

Favorite type of music?

Things that lean more into the rock side of things! I like harsher sounds, faster tempos, that sort of thing, but also my music taste is literally all over the place. It really really REALLY is a case-by-case basis but if I had to say anything, most Paramore songs are ones I love

Do you like puzzles?

It depends on the puzzle! I like logic and math puzzles, and mysteries are fun as well, but a jigsaw is something I'll only really do if I'm with friends or exceedingly bored

Any phobias?

Well, there's that body modification one I mentioned earlier! I also have an irrational fear of beetles and an even more irrational fear of specifically dropping a kitchen knife into my foot! Yowch!

Favorite childhood sport?

I didn't really play sports as a kid, but if I had to pick one, probably swimming? My current favorite sport is definitely dancing, though (folk and ballroom!)

Do you talk to yourself?

Yep! I use both the singular and plural first person pronouns "I" and "We" when I talk to myself. Generally, I use "I" when I'm more passively thinking, and "We" when I'm being metacognizant.

What movie(s) do you adore?

Back to the Future (1985) by Robert Zemekis my BELOVED!!!! I cannot recommend it enough, and I made a quote from it my senior quote in high school. I also really love The Sixth Sense (1999) and Tangled (2010)

Coffee or tea?

Tea, as I have yet to ever drink coffee! But when I drink my tea, I like it unsweetened and iced

First thing you wanted to be when growing up?

First thing I remember was, ironically, a teacher! Some things don't change <3

I'm gonna tag @riinsanity @0mega-x @koi0boi @always-a-joyful-note and @yukimomodivorce but anyone can join in!

[cevans-is-classic]

Between The Stitches

Ted Lasson x Enby Reader

18+ only, please. Warnings: sexual content, language, and me trying to my hardest to explain football

Other works can be found at My Masterlist

Head over to JD/TL to get more!

(One month ago)

"American football makes no sense to me." You comment without thought, twirling the carrot between your fingers around. 

Beard glances at you, "Aren't you from the United States?" 

You paid him back with a shrug. "I left when I was barely out of nappies. It doesn't count." Ted was unusually quiet on his side of the office, face open and expressive enough that you could tell the wheels were turning. 

"Yet soccer makes sense to you?" Beard nodded, "Wise." 

With a smile, you leaned back, "Thank you." 

The room fell silent once more than everyone tucked into their food. Ted kept looking up at you and down again until something seemed to snap into focus his eyes, "As I once said to Tammy Patchett in the seventh grade when she said she couldn't kiss me because I have her Dad's name — I respect your opinion, but I'm confused as a bumblebee. How in the world does soccer make more sense than Football, Sugar?" 

-

(Far too late into the evening for this conversation)

“Ted, Darling.” He’d wheeled the whiteboard into your living room, positioning it until he could reach the laptop as well as write across the face, “Honey, what is this?” You were hoping the answer was not what you assumed it was.

His mustache twitched, “Lessons.”

“Uh, huh?” He was wearing his trainers, the blue Nike ones he wore to practice and his AFC Richmond puffer coat, unzipped to show his Coaches jacket underneath, his hair was still slicked back and primed as if he’d gotten dressed and ready for training.

“Do you remember the other day when you made the comment of not understanding American Football?” He didn’t look up from the laptop as he prepared — what you can now see — is a presentation.

You stepped into the living room proper, arms crossed as your partner shuffled back and forth between his bag and the whiteboard. “Yes?”

“You said soccer rules made more sense than American Football,” He finally looked up, eyes wide, a well-pleased smile painting his face as he motioned to the tools behind him, “You spent a short — undetermined amount of time — explaining the rules to me-”

“Two hours-”

“- I thought I'd return the favor. Give you everything and the kitchen sink of American Football, yeah? Really go all in.” His cheeks flushed with glee. The excitement in his eyes drove you wild in a worrying way.

“Ted, it’s eight o’clock at night? You have training in the morning, Dear and I have to be in the office.” That didn’t seem to deter him. It made his smile grow even wider. He moved towards you, one hand coming up to touch your jaw and tilt your chin until you could look him in the eye.

“I’ll be quick, Sugar. You can call me Flash. I'll be so quick.” He pulled you in for a kiss, drawing your air from your lungs with a breathtaking swoop of his tongue, then promptly backed off and stepped back to the board.

All you could do was sit down, watching the man stand before you, arms wide, hands moving as he spoke, going into his pocket every few moments as he lifted on his toes and gleefully allowed the presentation videos to show you examples of his stories.

Ted came very prepared, ready to teach you something, and that very thought made your stomach squeeze and tighten. When your partner spun around, you allowed yourself to watch the line of his body from shoulders to legs thinking of him 'teaching you a lesson'

Well, that's a kink I didn't know I had. You thought, startling yourself at the image of Ted in his khakis with glasses perched on his nose, calling you a good little student who deserves a reward for paying attention so well-

Something on the television screen caught your attention, snapping you back into reality.

He was pulling up a picture of a professional football team with black and white colors. “Wait-” He stopped, pausing the video to look back at you with raised eyebrows.

You missed a step as you fantasized. “You were talking about football practices. Why are you showing me a football play?” His mouth opened, closed, eyebrows doing a rather intense dance as he thought over your question.

“I wanted to show you the greatest play in NFL history to give you a whopper of an example.” He clicked the laptop again, turning his back to you as the words ‘IMMACULATE RECEPTION’ flashed across the television. He talked in between the explanation and clips of the play, accent getting thicker and thicker, the more excited he got. When he explained how he used a ‘Fool’s gold’ version of the play his first year of coaching Collegiate Football, his entire demeanor changed.

Ted seemed to shift from Coach Lasso with witty quips and banter to Professor Lasso whose eyebrows bunched together, his puffer coat being shed, Coach’s jackets set down on top of it and the sleeves of his shirt as he pushed up his forearms. He became more confident about how he explained the inner workings of the game; shuffling around the room on the pads of his feet giving full bodied shows of players passing the ball, players positioning on the field, plays being drawn on the board (Which looked similar to how his plays looked during training, only the players stayed in a more controlled order than with Football here)

He was beautiful.

You couldn’t look anywhere but at him, watching his fingers grip the ball he’d pulled from his bag, watching them tap at the keys or grip the marker as he scrawled across the board. It was mesmerizing seeing him fall deep into what he loved, explaining it with exquisite detail — detail that was also painfully long and drawn out in a way that had your eyes drooping despite wanting to watching him run those fingers through his hair again, messing the style up allowing strands of it to fall across his forehead.

He was breathtaking, but bollocks it was damn near midnight, and you had to work in the morning.

You could see him gearing up for another speech about team dynamics on the field. Taking the opportunity, you stood and moved towards him.

“Theodore-” You touched his arm, drawing his hand away from the board. He turned with you, eyes going soft as he looked your way, “It's getting late, Darling.”

Ted nodded, “I’m almost done-” He turned back around, and with a desperate move, you reached for the football and held it up.

"Would you show me how to hold this?” His eyebrows bounced, “I don’t believe I’ve ever touched one before.”

“That's sacrilegious, Sugar.” Ted placed his hands over yours, warm and calloused in the right way, his fingers moving yours until you held the ball with one hand, your own fingers draped over the laces of it, “Keep your fingers tight.”

He moved behind you, lifting your hand up, pulling your arm back until it rested in the stance you’d seen the players on the screen use, “Don’t slip between the stitches, Sweetheart.” His voice had dropped, speaking low into your ear.

Blood rushed through your body at the feel of his facial hair brushing your ear, Ted’s own fingers still placed over yours, keeping you steady. You’d meant to distract him enough to pause the ‘lesson’ but the way his body pressed into you, his hips slotting into your backside to help move your leg back and straighten out your arm had your body thrumming with need.

“There you go, a regular Drew Brees, I say.” Ted’s hold on your hip was loosening, making you whine. You hadn’t realized you were pushing back into him until he was putting space between you to keep your body straight — he paused when the sound left your lips, his fingers tightening.

"You okay?” He pressed back against you; worry laced his words until you tipped your head to look at him.

Brown eyes looked down with concern, melting into understanding when you pressed your hips back into his, wanting to feel him grip you tight again.

“Sugar,” He moved the football out of your hand, “Thought it was getting late.”

It wasn’t a question. His mouth was twitching under his mustache again, only this time with a glint of mischief. A gnawing pit in your stomach wanted to have his hands moving around your waist once more. It made your knees shake, remembering how deep his concentration had gone into his lesson the way he’d single mindedly focused on giving you an accurate account of the sport.

His focus was intoxicating.

No matter whom he spoke to, whom he interacted with, Ted gave 100% to them, and each time he pointed that attention towards you, it made you throw caution to the wind.

“I think I need one more lesson, Coach.” His eyes followed your lips.

You moved to face him, reaching for the hand, holding the football, removing the object, and tossing it towards the couch, allowing you to bring his fingers to your lips.

“Yeah?” He breathed, “What kind of lesson do you need?” His fingers twitched, pads dragging over your bottom lip, letting you nip at them.

“You said not to slip between the stitches, Coach Lasso.” His pointer and middle fingers push into your mouth, your tongue laving at the digits with vigor, looking up at him as you hum in anticipation. Ted’s cheeks were burning red, eyes wide as he watched you and you felt him curl his fingers against your tongue, letting you suck on them until he dragged them, his own mouth opening in a breath.

“That's right.” His chest pressed into yours; you felt his heart pounding even through the layers of clothes, “Could cause you to fumble the throw.”

“Oh,” you looked at his fingers, spreading them wide until you could press your palm against his, tugging it towards you, “Have you ever fumbled before Coach Lasso?” Your shirt was thin, an old tee that should pair with a tank of some sort — now you were happy you’d foregone the undergarment as you moved Ted’s hand over your chest, his fingers catching on your nipple through the thin material, “You always seem to know where to place your fingers.” He pinched your nipple, rolling the bud, pinching it again, making you shiver as a spike of pleasure shoots down your spine.

“I’ve fumbled a few times.” His other hand moves towards your hip, looking at you waiting for a confirming nod before slipping his hand under your shirt, across the bare skin of your hip until he could pull at the ties of your shorts, loosening them enough to dip his hand inside, touching your thigh, then back, back, back gripping your ass in his palm and pushing you forward until you feel his erection against your stomach.

“Maybe you need more — training.” Ted kisses you, soft, all-consuming, making you light-headed with a dip of his tongue, his hands, those fingers, pressing into your skin dragging you closer and closer until you both stumble onto the couch. Ted moved you with care, helping you sit on his lap comfortably without pulling his lips from yours.

You tug at his shirt, pulling it from his pants and shifting until Ted pulls back and lets you slip the shirt off.

“Coach,” You bite your lip, sliding your hand through his chest hair, “I have another question.” His breath hitches when you slide your fingers over his nipple, down his stomach to undo the buckle of his belt.

Ted swallows, hands spasming against your hips, “How may I help you?” Fuck, his voice is low, that drawl digging into parts of you that burned hot and pulsed between your legs.

“Are you as good with your mouth,” You undo his pants, tugging the zipper down and reaching inside to wrap your hand around his cock, "as you are with your hands?”

There's a moment, a pause, as you stroke him where Ted doesn’t make a single sound, his breath seeming to be held in his chest and it sets panic inside you — then you're lifted into the air, Ted’s hands beneath your thighs making you squeal, release him and wrap your arms and legs around his body in shock.

In a matter of moments you were tossed onto your bed, Ted climbing over you in a flurry of movement, his lips and tongue attacking your throat in between bursts of apologies for startling you and his own fumbling to get your shirt and shorts off.

It was fucking intoxicating, seeing the rushed passion in the man that had been prominent during his lesson. Ted was single-mindedly taking you apart, and he hadn’t even done anything besides strip you bare and kiss you breathless.

“Te-Ted.” You stutter when his fingers spread you open, diving in and out, making you squirm into his palm, aching for more but not wanting him to stop.

“It's all about precision.” He murmurs into your neck, teeth biting in your pulse making you gasp, moaning out his name when he curls his fingers inside of you and fucks them deeper, the heel of his hand rubbing against your clit, “Knowing where to put your fingers, how tight to press them-” He hit that spot that makes your toes curl, his kisses dragging from your neck, over your stomach until he licks at your clit making you jump and drag the sensitive bud over his facial hair and you lose it. Legs tightening around his head, pussy pulsing around those fingers as Ted lick at you, fucking his digits in and out and in again until you trembled beneath him, “-and knowing when to let go.”

You groan, eyes rolling as you reach for him, “I think I get it now.” You tug him towards you, allowing him to reach for your night stand and search for a condom as your own hands grip him again, moving until your left leg wrapped around his waist and the head of his cock pressed into your hole.

Ted groaned, his hips jerking, but your fingers stopped him from going any deeper. “It's all about control.” Ted’s hand shakes when he gets the condom on. You let him move back long enough to spread you open again, his cock pushing into your inch by agonizingly delicious inch until he bottomed out; his forehead flush against yours.

“The end goal.” He breathes moving, moving, moving until you fall into a rhythm that drags your mind from your body. Ted could read you like a damn book, knew when to grab you, when to push you, how to go faster and harder, and he did it all with a smile on his face. He’d whisper words of praise into your ear as he fucks into you, murmurs sweet nothings against your skin, leaves his mark inside and out until all you knew was Ted and Ted alone.

When you felt the brink growing closer, you could feel him grab your right leg and pull it up against his hip to push deeper until you reached back, grabbing his ass and grinding yourself against him as his thrusts turn shallow.

“Thank you, Coach.” You groan, eyes closing as your stomach tightens.

Ted curses, “Sweet Jesus, fuck, you feel amazing, Sugar, better than ice cream on a hot day.”

“Ted-” You dig your nails into his ass making him hiss and thrust harder, “Ah, fuck, yes- yes-” Ted doesn’t stop, repeats the movement again and again until you-

“Fuck, yes, Coach, yes.” He groans, loud, head dropping into the crook of your neck, and between the waves of your orgasm, you feel him come, twitching inside you and jerking until — nearly simultaneously — both of you stop, taking deep breaths and rest there Ted’s cock softening inside you and your breath slowing down as he nuzzles your jaw.

Neither of you talks when he pulls out, depositing the condom and moving to kiss your forehead before leaving to grab a wet cloth and clean you both up. His touches are careful, caring, making your chest constrict as you look at this brilliant man.

“How do you feel?” He asks as he climbs in beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist and resting his lips against your shoulder.

“Like I still don’t know shit about American football.” Ted laughs out loud and with a bright, unhindered smile.

I'm so scared this isn't as good as I think it is 😅

It took a whole other turn than where I originally started, but I got excited while I was writing.

@theultimateslashgirl @wonderbreadbucky

[thelostgirl21]

You've definitely hit on two things I absolutely adore: birds, and the way different people and cultures use language! 🥰

I actually tend to feel some kind of strong, natural kinship with birds, because I grew up without any human siblings in a house filled with budgies and lovebirds, now live with a green cheek conure (and also another human! 😆), and took lessons to become a certified parrot behaviorist a few years ago, with the goal of improving the interpecies communication skills of human beings when interacting with their parrot companions.

Cats make no sense to me, and I'm barely fluent in dogs (although I've been called the human embodiment or a Golden Retriever). But birds? Birds I get! 🦜🐦🤗❤️ Even when I get stumped by a species with their own extremely unique body language, they still tend to make some sense to me in my brain.

Actually, even parrots of different species gets stumped. If you're curious to see an African Grey and Indian Ringneck totally failing at understanding each other's body language, it's kind of hilarious. 😆

But, to go back to The Witcher, I remember finding it a bit odd that Jaskier would be called "The Sandpiper" when I first saw season 2.

All I knew about sandpipers, basically, was that they are rather cute little birds that you often see running fast fast fast fast - then stop - fast fast fast fast - then stop - on tall tiny legs when you're walking or hanging out at certain beaches.

But sandpipers aren't particularly reknowned for their singing, as far as I know...

Then, "Blood Origins" came out, and I could understand why Éile would have been nicknamed "The Lark", since larks are mainly known for two things: their melodious singing... and viciously attacking people (and also being the name of Montreal's football's team*, "Les Alouettes")!

*I'm referring to our American football team, not soccer/football.

So, I started wondering if there was any type of connection between larks and sandpipers...

I typed "lark sandpiper" in Google search engine, and it gave me the "sand lark" Merriam-Webster definition as the second entry.

I'd never taken the time to look into the sandpiper's actual behavior until today though... But yeah! I guess I could sort of see it! 😆. Not sure if those comparisons I found have anything with the reason they chose that name on the show, however.

Another theory I had, was that Jaskier being called "The Sandpiper" was a reference to "The Pied Piper", as Jaskier is smuggling people out of a city (like the "Pied Piper" managed to smuggle an entire group of children out of a city without being seen or caught).

I wonder if it's even been said where Jaskier becoming known as "The Sandpiper" on the show came from in interviews, and if I've somehow managed to miss it.

3x06 // the last wish // "extraordinary things"

[hellomynameisbisexual]

Andrew Ford was questioned and fetishized when he came out as bisexual. The gay community insisted he wasn’t being honest with himself; women at clubs started to excitedly fantasize about hooking up with two guys at the same time.

All the while, the soccer standout stayed true to himself. Ford came out his freshman year at Malone University, a small Christian liberal arts college in Canton, Ohio — home of the Pro Football Hall of Fame. His friends and teammates were accepting, which was an incredible relief. But his journey into the LGBTQ community was a little more rocky.

“I got a lot of pressure from the gay community,” Ford told me recently on the phone. “I felt like I was misunderstood, and didn’t know who I was.”

Ford is one of an increasing number of openly bisexual college-aged athletes whom we’ve profiled recently on Outsports. Despite some surveys showing more Americans identify as bisexual than either gay or lesbian, there is a dearth of bi visibility in pop culture and sports.

As bi sportswriter Jeff Rueter challenged me: “name a bisexual man, and don’t say Frank Ocean.”

These kick-ass kids are going to change that.

Biphobia is real

Let’s start here: Biphobia is real. It manifests itself in gestures as seemingly fleeting as dismissive jokes, and actions as harrowing as outright physical violence. Bisexual people typically suffer significantly higher rates of depression and anxiety, domestic violence, sexual assault, and poverty than lesbians, gay men, or straight cisgender people, according to the Human Rights Campaign.

A black-and-white society, most of us grow up with the notion people are either straight or gay. Those attitudes have historically prevailed in the LGBTQ community, too.

Alex Keuroghlian, the Director of the National LGBTQIA+ Health Education Center at the Fenway Institute, says bisexual people can be looked at skeptically.

“Within LGBTQIA+ communities, there has historically been a stigma toward bisexual people, and the false notion that they’re really gay and lesbian people who haven’t accepted that about themselves,” he said.

Megan Duthart, a rower at Washington State University who identifies as both bi and queer, has experienced the stigma first-hand. She says she thinks bisexual people are often excluded in the LGBTQ community.

“I’ve struggled a little bit with being identified as an ‘other’ in the community with the term ‘bisexuality,’” she said.

Why are bi people targeted for erasure?

More people are identifying as bisexual. Over three percent of U.S. adults say they’re bi, according to the 2018 General Social Survey. That’s three times the number as 2008.

And yet, bi people are still targeted for erasure. One of the ways it happens is through language. When people see same-sex couples, for example, they may be inclined to label them as “gay” or “lesbian,” without considering that one or both of the people could identity as bi.

While Americans’ attitudes about sexuality are evolving, many still adhere to more binary definitions of sexual orientation. A recent YouGov poll found 41 percent of American adults don’t think sexuality is a spectrum (conversely, 37 percent think it is).

As Ford puts it, bisexuality is stereotypically viewed as “the stepping stone stage.” That ties into one of the more insidious aspects of bi-erasure: the belief that it’s just a phase. It’s a line Ford recalls hearing many times, from both men and women.

“(Gay men) said, ‘I came out as bisexual first. It’s just a phase, you won’t be there long,’” Ford said. “I was also scared how women would think about it. They wanted to change me. Some of them wanted to use it as a thrill they were seeking.”

When professional hockey player Zach Sullivan came out as bi, his father told him it meant he was still making up his mind.

“I remember what my dad said when I told him,” Sullivan said. “‘Well, you aren’t all the way there. You haven’t really decided.’ I was like, ‘no, I know I’m attracted to both genders. I’m not halfway towards coming out as gay.’”

The bi burden

Every LGBTQ person can relate to the fear and anxiety of coming out. But for most of us, once we do it, it’s over.

That’s not the case for bi people.

“We have to keep coming out to our significant others, whether it’s a man or a woman,” Ford said. “If you’re gay and you start dating a gay, you’re not going to be like, ‘I have to tell you something: I’m gay.’ They’re going to be like, ‘no shit.’”

And once bi people do come out, they could get charged with being greedy — the sexual equivalent of having their cake and eating it, too. The insult angers Sullivan.

“The majority of people in the LGBT+ community have struggled with their sexuality, and when they finally become comfortable enough to come out in the open with their sexuality, I don’t think the first thing to say to someone who’s come out as bisexual is they’re greedy,” Sullivan said. “I took over 10 years to get to where I am.”

Duthart finds the concept of bisexuality can be difficult to explain. She largely identifies as queer.

“I’ve had coaches question whether I’m rebelling or going through a phase,” she said. “Then when I explain the whole queer aspect, they’re like, ‘Oh, OK. That seems more justified.’ I don’t want to have to justify those things, but I sort of have to.”

Changing attitudes

Jack Storrs came out as bisexual last year as a college football captain. His teammates at Pomona-Pitzer rallied around him, and wore Pride decals on their helmets.

But even some who were supportive suggested he was on his way to identifying as gay. Storrs said he couldn’t hide his feelings for men anymore, and came out because he wanted to explore.

Maybe he was gay, maybe he wasn’t. The questions didn't bother him. He was a relieved to have the dialogue.

“It was killing me on the inside,” Storrs said. “It got to the point where I was like, ‘screw it.’ This is who I am, and this was meant to be.”

Nowadays, Storrs says he’s more towards the “gay end of the spectrum,” and expects the fluidity to continue.

He’s cool with that, and numbers show his peers are, too. Generation Z is among the most progressive and diverse in U.S. history. A 2018 study from Ipsos Mori shows only 66 percent of young people today identify exclusively as heterosexual.

Young people have a better understanding of how sexuality can evolve, says Keuroghlian.

“There’s been less of a reflex to box people in, and categorize people in ways that could be static,” he said. “A key part of all of this is not projecting behavior or projecting attraction. People tell us — they self-identify that’s who they are. And we have to honor that.”

Visibility challenges misperceptions

But to get back to Rueter’s question: can you name a famous out bisexual person besides Frank Ocean?

It’s challenging, and the lack of bi visibility may be one of the biggest contributors towards bi-erasure. But that is changing. Each person who comes out as bisexual has the ability to change perceptions within their own communities — and many young athletes are.

Bri Tollie, a bisexual college basketball player at Southern Methodist University, wrote in her coming-out story she refuses to conform.

“It is important to be visible because everyone is unique,” she wrote. “Our uniqueness means no one should not have to give up a part of themselves to conform. It is called self-respect.”

Growing up, Storrs tried to shut off his attraction to guys. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal, but the angst became all-encompassing.

Storrs is done hiding any part of himself. He did that for far too long, and is now out for all to see.

“I am bisexual, and my point is, I don’t really give a shit what anybody else thinks,” Storrs said. “This is who I am, and I don’t have to figure it out, but the reason I’m coming out is to figure it out, or at least get to a point where I’m comfortable.”

With their stories, these young bi athletes are making it more comfortable for bi people every single day.