#so some athleticism was required

[zahlibeth]

it's happening!

[icanseethefuture333]

How to gain followers as an influencer according to your Midheaven

Aries MC:

These influencers are blunt and say whatever that comes to mind. They have a confident aura to themselves and a lot of people gravitate towards them because of how infectious their personality is. Aries MC as influencers are competitive, bold, and outgoing. They also can have a cute and bubbly nature due to Aries being the youngest of the zodiac signs. In order to gain followers or success an influencer - speak your mind. Post pictures of yourself in the gym, dancing, or playing sports, Aries are known for their athleticism and people admire the amount of energy they possess. Aries MC do best in their career as an influencer when they are energetic and thriving in life. Their following might go down if they talk about losing or show a significant change of attitude in their content such as accepting defeat. Fans can emphasize with them if they open up about trauma and abuse.

Loren Gray’s most viral video is when she transitioned from blonde to brown hair. Making bold choices such as a change in hair color, makeup, or fashion style will attract more attention.

(Ex: Tana Mongeau, Loren Gray, Lisa)

Taurus MC:

The misconception of Taurus MCs is that they are always perceived as classy or being “refined” in their aesthetic. When the most famous Taurus MCs influencers are the exact opposite. They have this “untouchable” essence to them (“Yo voy voy voy”). Like those cool girls you pass by in the mall and never see again. They live a life of fun and luxury, their stories you always want to tune in because they’re always doing something interesting. Taurus MCs need to give little by little, share your interests while also keep an air of mystery to yourself. They are the life of the party and you can often see them enjoying good food, alcohol, and/or on vacation. Taurus MCs can pull off slick buns, gold hoops, glossy lips, and tight clothing like no other as well. Unless they are showing off their riches and bragging, people will get bored of them. They don’t want someone they can relate to, so these people often get put on a pedestal or people look up to them for motivation. Most likely to be the ones on somebody's vision board. People are turned off when they display arrogance and envy out of insecurity.

Alex Consani’s most viral video of her is at a fancy restaurant singing “Lifestyle” by Young Thug.

(Ex: Alex Consani, Alexa Demie, Selena Gomez)

Gemini MC:

These girlies are some chatterboxes. They are similar to Aries MCs in a way when it comes to saying whatever they want but what they say often… doesn’t make sense but also totally makes sense, yk? The girls that get it, get it, and the girls that don’t, don’t! Queens/kings of musically fr. Gemini MCs are good at being animated and cunning when creating content. They act really ditsy and lost but they are secretly very intelligent. To gain followers, just be WEIRD, but not weird as in it being forced to be unique and different. I mean weird as just being yourself - unfiltered. Imagine yourself at 10 years old and how annoying but funny they were then letting it out as an adult now that you have control of your life. Give your inner child that space to be creative and humorous without overthinking.

Trisha Paytas being a Gemini MC in her most viral videos. That is all.

(Ex: Trisha Paytas, Liza Koshy, Bella Hadid)

Cancer MC:

Ahh Cancer MCs, they just give mother, ykwim? Something about them is just so feminine and nurturing. If they are young in age, people are drawn to their girl/boy next door vibes. They often fit the beauty standard and are praised for their youthful features. They are way over romanticized sometimes and people have an unhealthy obsession with them. People often see Cancer MCs as overrated but honestly who cares? You are capable of gaining followers by making content with family members, at home, or honestly doing the bare minimum (this placement doesn’t require much effort).

Ari Fletcher is famous for being the girlfriend of rapper G Herbo and mother of their son, Yosohn, she often posts videos of her and their son together.

(Ex: Charli D’amelio, Ari Fletcher, Zoë Kravitz)

Leo MC:

Divaaaas. Leo MCs just give celebrity through and through. They are probably some of the youngest influencers out there. These are the people who were in their bathroom making YouTube videos at 11 and getting over millions of views just for talking about their day at school. They could talk a lot of shit and people would just tune in for the gossip. They are hilarious and entertaining to watch. Always hated but could never be imitated. They are just that it girl/boy. Leo MCs gain attention for their voluminous hair, balanced features, and radiant style. The more they shine, the better. These people gain followers when they look the most glamorous and behave unapologetically themselves. Fun to hear them talk while drunk too. Might have to make a few apologies throughout their career but their fans are loyal and would never turn their back on them lol. “They could never make me hate you ahhh😝”. Leo MCs live by the saying “only god could cancel me”, the feline that got 9 lives. Haters would even miss them if they died.

Bretman Rock’s viral contour video that’s … dare I say chaotic.

(Ex: Justine Skye, Bretman Rock, Doja Cat)

Virgo MC:

True natural beauty. These people probably started the “clean girl” trend, they are so effortlessly perfect at everything they do. Top student of their class, successful in their career, etc. You name it. Virgo MCs are admired for their good reputation and clean image (or in another case, when their reputation goes to shit, they can salvage it by being clever and profiting it off themselves. Kim Kardashian became famous for being in a sex tape and ever since then she’s been one of the biggest influencers in the entertainment industry). They gain followers for posting content of their everyday routine, cleaning habits, and comfortable but stylish wardrobe. These people lose attention when they are looking messy and dirty. Sometimes engaging in reckless behavior and not always being the “perfect” girl people perceive them as can gain attention - good or bad. These people may have a harder time keeping up with the standards people enforce onto them and often face criticism more than others which could impact their mental as well as physical health.

(Ex: Yara Shahidi, Hailey Baldwin Bieber, Maya Jama)

Libra MC:

The ultimate beauty gurus omg! These are the best people to receive beauty tips from. Unfortunately, people could never look as pretty as them but they could at least learn tips that would help them enhance their appearance with makeup, skincare, etc. Libra MCs are the embodiment of beauty and style, they make the perfect influencers and a lot of them are very popular on social media. They know how to balance humor while being serious when giving advice, giving off big sister/brother vibes. The beauty standards they present could be unattainable, so they could receive both love and hate from others because they are not able to replicate them. These influencers are the type to set trends such as “#wonyoungism” and what not. Wearing pink, using your artistic skills, and being an advocate for a cause you care about could attract more followers.

Jenna Marbles most famous video is ironically about “how to trick people into thinking you’re good looking”.

(Ex: Jenna Marbles, Kylie Jenner, Michelle Phan)

Scorpio MC:

Sexy spooky gals. Scorpio MCs possess a beauty that is haunting to the mind, they are the bad girls/boys. They are daring by nature and their quirky personalities contrast with their sensual appearance. These placements could be former porn stars or be very popular on onlyfans (*cough cough* Mia Khalifa). They are often involved in scandals, dating rumors, and people view them as dramatic. Indulge in people’s fantasies and feed into others illusions. Emphasize your eyes by doing a smoker eyeliner look, contour your cheeks, and wearing a nude lip is a signature look for the Scorpio MCs. Wearing leather, revealing, or stripper type clothing and having tattoos is part of their grand appeal as well. Entertain your fans by engaging in harmless flirting and venting about your emotions.

Quenlin has been gaining popularity recently for being involved in a dating rumor that her, Billie Ellish, and Odessa are in a throuple after making a video together.

(Ex: Emma Chamberlain, Quenlin Blackwell, India Love)

Sagittarius MC:

The one everyone wishes to find. These people become the most searched in a matter of seconds. Everyone wants to know who they are, what’s their name, and where are they from. Sagittarius MCs could be praised for their “exotic” look or extravagant style. Wear clothing and jewelry from foreign countries, these people have to give off the vibe they just came back from vacation. They are often seen sporting tans and look good in “airport fashion". To gain followers, post content of videos of yourself talking in the car, traveling, going to the airport, being on vacation, driving to your favorite places, and/or speaking in foreign languages. Sagittarius MCs become famous “unintentionally” and they experience a lot of luck and success within their career. Being too stagnant could harm their success.

Cindy Kimberly went viral after Justin Bieber posted her on his instagram asking people who she was.

(Ex: Cindy Kimberly, Khloe Kardashian, Jenna Ortega)

Capricorn MC:

These mfers are always mewing. Patrick Bateman core. These are the business moguls, supermodels, and professional gamers. They are competitive and efficient when it comes to their work. They look great in black and have noticeable tattoos. Similar to Scorpio MCs with having a baddie image but instead of being just “bad”, they give off mafia vibes. The sexy super villain that’s hard to resist and secretly rooting for. People want to know how much money they make and what they did to achieve being rich (“sprinkle sprinkle”). Capricorn MCs are appreciated for their dedication and hard work. People admire them most when they talk about their struggles and how they overcame obstacles to become successful. Although, if they are someone who benefits from nepotism, people could really despise them. Be the unbothered queen/king you’re meant to be and invest in yourself, remember your time and energy is valuable.

Rihanna’s most viral video is of her saying “she could beat me but she could not beat my outfit” during a speech.

(Ex: Vinnie Hacker, Rihanna, Kendall Jenner)

Aquarius MC:

The definition of social media stars. These are the innovators and trend starters. They are the reason influencers are so big now on the internet. Aquarius MCs gain popularity for their unique perspective and usage of technology (cameras, editing content, etc). They could post about tech, talking about interests from their fandom, doing Q&As, and having a close relationship with their fans. People admire how friendly and down to earth they are. Aquarius MCs lose followers when they are cold and distant. These people could wear just about anything but look best in a hoodie, sunglasses, and jeans. They are oh so casual chic.

Madison Beer went viral in her cover of Etta James when she was only 13, she showed gratitude to her fans in the comment section and was praised by Justin Bieber as well.

(Ex: Madison Beer, Jackie Aina, Dixie D’amelio)

Pisces MC:

These people just spawned into existence. They are otherworldly in terms of appearance. Pisces MCs are quite strange when it comes to how they express themselves and people who are often misunderstood find comfort in these public figures. As influencers, their style has spiritual or mystical elements. They look like a fantasy character come to life and their makeup style can be quite bizarre. These people lose followers when they try to fit in and dim their light. They make a positive impact on others when they talk about acceptance and self love. Pisces MCs’ sexuality could be a hot topic as well and they might be very progressive with their views. These people could be psychic and are very intuitive in terms of the future.

Julia Fox’s most popular video is about how her son was born the same day her best friend who died (she also talked about how she came to her in a dream to tell her she was having a boy!)

(Ex: Julia Fox, Addison Rae, James Charles)

[fibfoolingart]

i swear this was just supposed to be some fun aesthetic swap doodles, but then i started thinking about The Implications and now i have a wholeass story behind this au lol

any world where grace chasity isn’t a horny, homicidal prude, we lose the original plot, so this au would revolve more around the church of the starry children then max jägerman lol

solomon decides the best way to wield power in hatchetfield is through religion instead of government and he unites all the tiny denominational churches into his church, becoming the pastor (happening around the same time steph starts middle school.)

it works. almost everyone attends solomon’s church, and it becomes a required social event for anyone who’s anyone in hatchetfield.

but it’s all a manipulation for bigger purposes as solomon slowly incorporates text from the black book, pushing the church into culty territory.

as the preacher’s kid, steph is under constant scrutiny. she might have wanted to rebel as a kid, but the wrath of god is a much bigger threat than just breaking her phone and solomon uses fear and guilt to keep her in line, turning her into a model of godly behavior (at least on the surface).

the chasitys refuse to join solomon’s church, but their small congregation shuts down when there aren’t enough people left. 

grace’s parents encourage grace to pour all her free time into individual bible study to make up for the lack of church, church activities, and church outings, but grace starts treating the bible like a textbook instead of a spiritual guide.

without structured church activities, her obsession with rules and procedures shifts to the school system

grace unknowingly separates herself from spirituality when her bible obsession becomes academic. she’s still a christian, but she’s more likely to corner you in the library to infodump about angelic hierarchies than preach about purity.

travis coulson was ruth’s older cousin. it freaked her the hell out that someone could be bullied that bad that they have to transfer and their entire life is erased for a dumbass lie that everyone believes. so ruth vows that she and her friends will never be outcasts (or timberwolves) and drags pete and richie into a "popularity pact" in fifth grade, forcing them to get cool or else.

the trio spends their summer doing research and practicing social skills. (they basically spend their time practicing masking autism and refining their ability to camouflage.)

the trio starts researching what’s cool. their findings? football players, student council presidents, and school play leads are the pinnacle of popularity. so, they throw themselves into middle school tryouts and campaigns to fit these roles:

richie tries out for football but ends up as the mascot.

ruth auditions for the lead in the school play but gets relegated to lighting tech.

pete campaigns for class president but only gets elected secretary.

instead of quitting there, they regroup and try again in high school:

richie uses the athleticism he got as a mascot to land him a spot on the swim team.

ruth works her way up to the the student/assistant director for the school plays

pete works his way up the student council ranks, eventually becoming class president.

the trio is finally just cool enough that their quirks get rebranded as "quirky-cool" instead of "weird." they still bond over star wars and anime in secret, but their popularity ensures they’re never targets again.

[someonexsomeone]

Sweetness

Title: Sweetness

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader, James Potter x Lily Evans

Summary: The Marauders LOVED to watch you with Remus.

Authors Note: this was actually born from another fic i was writing that i hated scrapped and kept one sentence from lmao

“What are you idiots up to now?” 

There was very little that could rattle Lily Evans. Her sister, Severus Snape, and, as reluctant as she wanted to admit it, James Potter, were just a few people, not to mention the very Gryffindor nature she adopted over the years making her susceptible to reckless actions, but she was getting the hang of it, honest! It was just that stupid Potter that set her on edge without having to do anything, and then he’d bat his pretty eyelashes at her and--

Ugh. Thinking about him made her feel nauseous.

She’d done her best to avoid Potter as much as possible, not that Dumbledore made it any easier assigning them as Head Girl and Boy (despite her many protests), but he seemed adamant on sticking by her side. Or, as Marlene suggested, not that Lily believed it anyway, that Potter was simply going about his day to day life and they just happened to share a few classes together and of course he would sit near her in the Great Hall since it was practically commonplace to sit near your yearmates, and why was she paying so close attention to him anyway?

“Because he’s so annoying it's impossible to ignore. Like a moldy cheese, his stink of annoyance just fills a room.”

“You know, Lily,” Marlene teased, drawing out every word. “Some people think smelly cheese is irresistible.”

She stormed away before she could think that her red face was attributed to anything but anger.

So, imagine her surprise when, the very person she was trying to avoid, was acting more a fool than usual, his butt hanging out of a classroom door with none of the decorum required of a Head Boy. Though, she mused, why did she expect anything different from him, even if he’d been acting more mature this term.

His goofy shocked face caused her heart to flutter, another symptom of her annoyance.

“Lily!” Potter whisper-shouted, somehow being incapable of speaking quietly even when it was so obvious he was trying. Sirius Black, used to his antics, knocked a knobby elbow into his side from his position on the floor, playful glare on his face as he shushed his better half.

“Quiet!” Black hissed, voice just as loud. Potter didn’t seem to notice, sending him a sheeping smile.

“Sorry!” he said, though his voice was only lower in pitch, not volume. Lily rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you were studying with Marlene?”

“Stalking me now, Potter?” She was shocked, however, when Potter flushed red instead of his flirty remark.

“I-I would never! You know that, don’t you?” And then, as if he realized how pathetic he sounded, his mouth twitched into a grimace. “Unless, you--…you want me to?”

“Oh Merlin,” Black sighed, shaking his head, voice exasperated. “Marlene told us in case Dorcas finished her meeting with Professor Gropmorph early.”

This time, it was Lily who flushed in embarrassment. Thankfully, Remus took the perfect moment to open the door to the classroom, unamusement clear, even as Potter and Black toppled like dominoes face first onto Remus’s shoes.

“What are you idiots doing now?” Lily felt her chest swell in kinship, even as Remus’s face dropped in shock at spotting her standing there. “Lily?”

“I promise,” she said quickly, “I have nothing to do with this!”

“What…what are you doing here? What are any of you doing here?”

“Well, you see--!” Black scrambled to his feet, knocking James over in his attempt to get up faster. “I was just--...we were just--...”

“Rounds!” James shouted, gracelessly, despite his usual athleticism, using the door frame to pull himself up. Once he was on his feet, he swung an arm around Lily. When she tried to sidestep away from him, he kept his arm firm, and she pretended to hate it. “We were just doing rounds, right, Evans?”

It was a miracle these marauders didn’t get into more trouble if this is what they were like when they were lying. James was staring down at her with his big brown eyes, twinkling with hope. Black was making a subtle motion to play along, though it was in clear view of Remus, who eyed them suspiciously.

Why me?, she thought, miserably.

“...Yeah,” she finally said, though the moment had stretched on for far too long to be convincing. Black face palmed.

“Rounds? But it’s not even dinner yet?”

James cursed under his breath. Lily rolled her eyes. How could he forget his best friend was a prefect?

“It’s those new Head rounds, right?” Black provided. James slumped in relief, immediately nodding along.

“Yep! Yeah, new rounds for Head Girl and Boy. Wouldn’t have taken the job if I knew there was so much to do!” James laughed too loud, then abruptly stopped, whipping his head down to look at Lily. “Not that I’m not responsible! I agreed, so I’ll follow through. Promise!”

“...okay,” Remus agreed, drawing out the sound to fill the sudden awkward silence. He eyes Black, almost looking like he was going to ask what he was doing there, then decided better and kept the question to himself. Lily didn’t blame him. “Well, have fun…?”

“Yes, yes! You as well, whatever mysterious thing you’re doing in there!” Black babbled, practically pushing Remus back into the room, throwing a glare over his shoulder. 

Just before the door shut, Lily swore she saw a familiar silhouette.

With the door now closed, and Black assured that Remus was far enough away, he whipped around, voice exasperated as he said, “Way to go, Prongs.”

“What?” Lily shrugged off Potter’s arm, and he had the decency to look embarrassed. “Oh, sorry. I panicked.”

“I could tell.” She made a show of whipping off her shoulder, but made no move to walk away. “What were you even doing?”

Potter opened his mouth to respond, but Black launched himself, covering his mouth with both hands. Potter's eyes widened, grabbing Black’s arms to push him away.

“Why are you curious? We’re not breaking any rules,” Black said suspiciously, voice trembling as he held his hands still. Lily eyed the two, Potter obviously not putting all his strength into the fight, then looked at the door.

“Remus is allowed to be in there,” she said instead of responding. She turned to Black, crossing her arms and standing her ground. “You, however, are being incredibly rude by spying on him.”

“He’s our friend,” Black argued, as if that justified his actions.

“Friends don’t spy on each other.”

“Friends don’t keep secret lovers.”

Immediately, the two looked at each other in equal shock, eyes widening in unison. Potter used the distraction to finally free his mouth, playfully spitting on the floor.

“Ugh, wash your hands, Pads.”

Lily blinked owlishly at Black, who looked horrified at what he revealed.

“Remus is dating--”

“We don’t know for sure,” James said before she could continue, warily glancing at the closed door. Deciding it would be best to move away, he nodded his head at Black, then gestured Lily down the hall, an illusion of privacy she found she appreciated. Once they were a good ways down, where the door all but disappeared into the lopsided cobbled wall, James continued, “It’s just a hunch we’ve had.”

“A hunch?” 

“Our Moony is very protective of his pack--” Potter coughed pointedly at Black, who just rolled his eyes, “--of friends.”

“What he means,” James cut in, “is that Moony is very selective of who he gets close to. Childhood trauma and all that. He just hasn’t gotten around to introducing us yet.”

Lily thought they were being very nonchalant for discussing childhood trauma, but she shrugged it off, reminding herself these were the boys who thought dungbombs were funny because they smelled like farts.

“And you were…what, trying to find a good time to introduce yourselves?” Potter turned sheepish while Black laughed.

“Not…not exactly.”

“Not that you would know, dear Evans, but our Moony is quite the romantic.”

“Remus? Remus Lupin?” Lily conjured the shy Remus she knew, the one who stuttered the first time they interacted, who she recalled being too quiet to stand up to his friends’ wrongdoings, but helped in every other instance. Remus, who she rarely saw with anyone but his roommates, despite the countless people throwing themselves at his feet for a date.

Black nodded, long hair swinging around his shoulders.

“The most. Would put Calyna Ollapianne to shame.” Although Lily was lost, no doubt one of many pop culture wizards she hadn’t had the time to discover, the way Potter was nodding his head made her inclined to believe it was a good thing. Maybe Mary would know, she wondered to herself, she’s always been into wizarding things.

“And, you see, he’s shy.” To this, Lily nodded. “So, when he does fancy someone, he doesn’t always have the courage to say something.”

“Except!” Black’s mischievous smile made her nervous. “Our dear Moony, who usually runs away tail between his legs when a pretty thing walks by, is currently locked in a room, far from other students or distractions, supposedly tutoring a very pretty thing.”

Lily stopped, her two companions falling in line to look at her, identical smiles on their faces. If she didn’t know Black had been staying with the Potter’s, she might have been weirded out. Instead, she only felt confusion, looking back over her shoulder to the hallway they just abandoned. Black was practically bouncing on his feet as he waited for her response.

“So…”

“Yes?”

“Remus is currently tutoring a fellow classmate and your…disrupting him?” Black sighed dramatically, obviously not what he was expecting to hear from her.

“Come on, Evans. You’re not the littlest bit curious?” He gestured down the hall. “We just let you in on one of our biggest secrets and you can’t even give me a dramatic gasp?”

“One of--?”

“We don’t bother them,” Potter reassured before she could continue, giving her a softer smile, one that relaxed her nerves, as much as she hated to admit it. “We just…want to make sure he’s doing alright. Provide emotional support, or whatever.”

Lily looked, really looked, at James as he stuttered over his words, pointedly avoiding her eyes. Even with his tanned skin, she could see the beginnings of a flush creeping up his neck, painting the tips of his ears rosy. The more she looked, the more he stammered, hands waving wildly, knocking into Black, though neither of them really acknowledged it, too busy studying her or too used to it, she didn’t know. She tucked away the knowledge that her stare made him stumble over her words.

By the time his voice was getting shrill, pathetically forming messy sentences that somehow implicated him and Black in a torrid affair with Remus, a familiar boy rounded the corner.

“Hey! Sorry, am I late?” Pettegrew called, face red and sweaty from no doubt running to meet up with his friends. “I got here as fast as I could.”

Though Remus was by far her favorite Seventh Year boy, Peter Pettigrew was high on her list, thanks to his inability to talk without his friends nearby. Lily hadn’t had many interactions with him, beyond the odd Gryffindor camaraderie at matches and being paired up in class, but there was something about the way he followed along behind his friends, as if he was completely spineless, set her on edge. Pathetic, she hated to admit, was one of the few words she associated with him, and she felt bad enough about it that she often went out of her way to be extra kind to him. Like now, as she gave him a small smile. Pettigrew gave her a toothy one in return when he spotted her.

“Oh, Evans! I didn’t know you liked watching Moony too!”

“Watching…?”

“Yeah!” He laughed, setting Black and Potter on edge. “These two are obsessed with watching Moony get all lovey--”

“You’re such a snitch!” Black yelped before he could continue, locking Pettigrew’s head in the crook of his arm, pushing his fist into the top of his head and rubbing until both of their hair was askew.

“I thought you were there to provide ‘moral support’?” Lily questioned, side eyeing Potter, who started to stutter again. 

It should have been obvious, she mused, that they were lying about being there for his friend. As long as she’s known them, they were always up to something. Niceties hiding deception, innocence hiding trickery. Even if he’d matured in the past term, actually being a good Head Boy despite her reluctance to admit it, old habits die hard.

“We really are! It’s just--...It’s just…” Potter’s stutter, despite usually making her want to roll her eyes, made her feel a little bad. After all, they were a collection of contradictions. Who's to say he couldn't be spying for good and bad reasons? She nearly pinched herself at the thought.

Black, noticing his friend's dilemma, loosened his hold to step closer. Pettigrew used the distraction to pull his head away, surprisingly knocking a leg out to trip Black, sending him tumbling into Potter, and both of them onto the floor.

“They're looney,” Pettegrew rushed out, a mischievous smile on his face. Potter and Black wiggled against each other on the floor, untangling limbs to stop their friend from saying more. “Obsessed with how Moony gets all soft. Did they tell you their favorite thing is when he stands behind to guide wand movement with his whole body? ‘Oh, Prongs, hold me like Moony does!’, ‘Pads, Pads! Do you think they’ll kiss later?’!”

“Snitch!” Potter shouted this time, launching himself across the floor towards Pettigrew’s knees, knocking them down. The two grappled on the floor, Pettigrew laughing while Potter stuttered apologies towards Lily, swearing they weren’t creeps, while Black rose beside her, cackling and cheering them on, an annoying ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ that brought on a migraine she did not need to deal with right now. 

“What are you doing?” All four of them froze, the unexpected stern voice rattling them to their bones. 

Lily was the first to turn, wince pulling her eyebrows to her nose as she watched Remus hurry down the hall, obvious exasperation on his face. She felt even worse as she spotted you trailing behind him. It was obvious they weren’t as quiet as they hoped, pulling you from the tutoring session Remus had gone through the trouble of renting a room for.

“Lily?” You called, evidently more confused to see her than the two locked in a wrestle on the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“I was--...I was just--…” She felt foolish stumbling over her words like that. It was a public hallway, she had every right to be here just as the others did, and she wasn’t one of the bubbling fools getting their uniforms dirty while they rolled on the floor. Well, she wasn’t one of the fools, but she had to admit she was very much bumbling.

“Why are you two always on the floor?” Remus said, exasperated. He reached down, hauling Pettigrew to his feet, much to Potter’s dismay, who had to rise on his own, Black still too busy eyeing you up. She could have sworn she saw Remus send a sharp glare in Black’s direction, but the harshness completely vanished as he looked at you again. Instead of the mean look he reserved for his friends, his eyebrows relaxed, face going rosy as he apologized. “I’m sorry, we’re meant to be studying.”

“Yeah, studying…” Black murmured under his breath, much too loud to be a private thought. Lily stomped on his foot not too discreetly in retaliation. “Merlin’s beard--!”

She turned to stick her tongue out at him, a very irresponsible thing to do as Head Girl but there was something about these troublemakers that made her feel like a little kid again, but before she could do more, Potter elbowed her harshly in the side. When she whipped toward him, he had an embarrassed flush on his face, evidently not meaning to hit her so hard, but he gestured quickly back to you. Only curiosity had her pulling her eyes away from him.

“It’s alright, Rem.” Lily watched as Remus all but melted at the nickname, easily dodging around the group to return to your side. His hand hovered over your shoulder, then dropped, either too nervous or too aware of the watching eyes to actually touch you. It didn’t stop his fingers, however, from twitching towards you as you gave him a smile. “It’s getting close to dinner anyway.”

“Sorry about them.” 

Black wiggled his eyebrows at Lily as Remus’s voice dropped to something sickly sweet, lower and smoother than she was used to hearing. However, as he flicked his eyes towards his friends, all in unison the boys whipped their heads away, whistling or otherwise pretending to not be paying attention. Lily flushed, then looked to her feet, disbelieving that she was following along. But, she hated to admit, this was much too good to walk away from.

“They're fun. And, we can always pick up where we left off tomorrow. No big deal.” You seemed to have no qualms touching him, your hand reaching out to squeeze one of his in reassurance. Lily lifted her eyes just in time to watch a scattering of goosebumps litter the back of his neck, just above the collar of his messy button up. “Same time?”

“Yeah, same time.” She could almost hear the sadness in his voice, easily picturing puppy ears sprouting from his head at how downtrodden he was at leaving you. You seemed to agree, laughing, and then reaching out to gently pat his face. “Have fun at dinner.”

“You could always join us, you know!” Black called out when you pulled away, surprising everyone by daring to speak out and break the gentle atmosphere that surrounded you two. Remus whipped his head around to glare, though he failed as his eyes widened in shock, motioning to cut it out. Potter hissed under his breath in tandem with Lily’s pinch to his side, but Black simply let a smooth smirk pull across his lips, ignoring everyone’s not so subtle hints. “Remus always talks about how much he misses you--”

In perfect unison, Lily stepped out of the way, latching onto your arm to pull you away, while James slapped one of his big hands across Black’s mouth, giving you a bright smile.

“--your tutoring lessons!” he gasped out, glancing at Remus quickly before returning his smile to you. “Loves--likes what a good student you are! Best one he’s ever had!”

“Potter was just telling me how good Remus was. Tell me about it?” Lily suggested, piggybacking off Potter’s obvious lie, tugging you down the hallway. You looked at her quizzically, obviously wondering why she suddenly was all buddy-buddy with you when you two hadn’t shared so much as a whole conversation before, but you didn’t press.

“Alright?” She felt giddy as a soft smile stretched across your lips, neck craned awkwardly so you could turn to look back at Remus, waving your hand. “Bye, Remus. Thanks again.”

“Yeah! Yes! Anytime!” Lily giggled to herself at the fumble, his hand waving a bit too frantically to be casual, but it seemed to only endear you more, nearly tripping over your feet so you could continue to look at him.

The two of you barely managed to round the corner before Black’s obnoxious voice rang out, “Way to go, Moony! You sly wolf!”

Yes, it seemed those marauding boys had a hobby of watching your interactions with Remus, somehow managing to do it in the creepiest, most intrusive way possible. But, she thought as you laughed, wistfully looking over your shoulder, she saw the appeal. 

And, if she found herself in this hallway again tomorrow, now, that was surely just a coincidence.

______________________________________________________________

masterlist  l hogwarts masterlist

[born-to-riot]

Idk if this counts as a Drabble but basically it starts as me theorizing an event in Prythian and then turns into ‘what if Azris’

WC: 3,325

(TW: A/B/O, loosely nsfw, talks of breeding, male omegas have cocklets and boypussies).

Okay but hear me out.

I want a Prythian mating run

Make it A/B/O (along with their regular magic powers) (however maybe there’s some traditional powder that participants are required to take so that it dampens their powers and awakens the alpha/beta/omega inside of them)

It’s primal, the lopers start first. Battling each other to find and make the best den and claim territory for them to bring their runner back to once they catch them.

After a while, they catch the scents of the runners filtering throughout the forest. That’s when the game truly begins.

the runners don’t make it easy (usually betas and omegas)

(What’s point of making it easy when you’re strong and want to make the alpha/beta prove they are worthy and can breed you full of strong pups)

(Any second gender is allowed to sign up in any position: runner or loper)

(For example, just last season the alpha prince of Adriata, Varian, shocked Prythian when rumors spread that he signed up to be a runner. The shock multiplied when it was rumored that he was caught by the scariest and tiniest alpha of Prythian, Amren of the Night Court. Legend has it the two came out four days after the mating run covered in blood and scratches but are now inseparable).

It’s all about scent.

Only unmated faes can participate. Think of the occasion like an annual festival to see if two halves of a whole can find one another.

Not every pair who comes together will be mates as an actual mating bond is rare to find (also sometimes the pairs aren’t even the most compatible scent-wise be it alpha athleticism, an omega caught in a trap, or just the luck of the catch) but usually by the time an loper catches an runner, both of their pheromones have their instincts roaring.

But if you are mates or just are the most compatible for one another… oh the mother will let you know. There will be some other force pushing the runner to go faster, there is something that pushes the loper to be more violent about ridding the runner’s trail of other lopers running after the same scent. The closer they get to one another the wetter the omegas cunt gets the heavier an alphas cock, even betas will adjust accordingly depending on whether they are a runner or a loper.

Azris below the cut

Now let’s say Eris enters the race this year as a runner. Years prior he’s been forced by his father to sign up as a loper despite the fact that he’s technecially an omega, which is fine (but dangerous- some fellow lopers would get distracted by his scent and try to go after him. While he always fought them off he can’t deny the inner thrill of the chase) and Some years he’s caught good scents and has even followed some of them, hunted them. Usually though, his interest would fade and he would just return to his den and hang out in his nest until the event was over.

Not this year, this year, instead of just going to the Autumn run, Eris heard a rumor that a certain Shadowsinger would finally be participating in an intercourt run. He hated himself for being weak to the temptation but ever since he felt the other’s scarred hands around his neck Eris’ inner omega can’t fight the fantasy of being knotted by the Illyrian.

Eris doesn’t tell his father that he’s signing up as a runner, of course. He just lets the man know that he is going to try his luck with a wider pool of runners to choose from- which Beron accepted.

There is a gathering before the run, this is where runners and lopers can mingle and familiarize each other with scents that intrigue them. Legend has it that it is at one of these minglings where Thesan and his lover first made contact. Eris goes to this meeting and tries to mingle. He talks to many handsome and beautiful lopers, but he doesn’t feel his cocklet twitch until he makes eye contact with Azriel, who is staring at him from across the room, over the head of the third archeron sister. Elain.

Shit. Eris can’t believe he let himself forget about the newest object of Azriel’s affections. He can’t believe he even allowed himself to hope for just a minute that the Shadowsinger might return his interest. He can’t believe he let himself think that he smelt the other’s cedar infused arousal back when he whispered in his ear at the High Lord’s meeting.

Eris quickly sidesteps so that he’s out of view of the Shadowsinger but he can’t rid himself of the memory of his hazel eyes. Maybe his father was right, he should never be a runner because omegas let their thoughts get clouded by their cunts.

Eris knows he should leave the gathering before Azriel could have the opportunity to spread the word to whatever other members of the Inner Circle that are present. But his inner omega is waging war against him. Give him your scent. We are the most worthy omega in here. Eris isn’t so sure if he agrees with that, but he’s come this far and defied his father by opening up the possibility for a son of Autumn to be caught and bred. He supposes it won’t hurt to give the alpha a reminder of the scent he should be hunting.

So Eris moves, head held high. He walks around the edges of the room, dodging wanting alphas who approach him. He stops once he’s two meters away from the present members of the Night Court Inner Circle, facing the back of Azriel’s wings that separate him from the two ladies in front of him—Mor and Elain. The two female fae are chatting with one another and Azriel is clearly focused on analyzing the room around him— at least Eris assumes so based on the slight movements of the black haired man’s head.

Shining gold twinkles at the corner of Eris’ eye and grabs his attention. He spies a tall spring court alpha adorned in gold jewelry. The male is not Tamlin but he sure is beautiful, Eris can’t help but think. He sees the golden male approaching his direction at the same time Eris recognizes a semi-familiar shadow flitting by him. He has an idea.

Eris waits as the golden alpha comes closer and closer and he makes note that the shadow that was passing by has stilled and attempted to blend in with the natural darkness of the wall nearest to him. Eris feels a smirk form on his face as he thinks about the fact that the Shadowsinger has no idea that Eris knows each and every time the male is watching him.

Finally, the golden alpha gets close enough and Eris purposefully angles himself so that the other will ‘accidentally’ knock into him. The plan goes accordingly and soon Eris is letting out a pointed gasp as the Spring Court Alpha catches him by the waist with an apology. Eris laughs then, purposefully emitting his toasted maple and almond scent as if he was truly embarrassed. Eris waves the golden alpha away, smiling as if he wasn’t disgusted by his musk of freshly cut grass, and calmly readjusts his blazer before walking towards the exit of the gathering. It’s not until after he takes two steps out of the door that he hears footsteps behind him and sees a shadow in front of him that mimics the lines of the familiar pair of wings that never seem to escape his mind.

“Why hello Azriel,” Eris says, pausing his movements, listening as the footsteps get louder as the Shadowsinger approaches him from behind. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I think I should be saying that to you,” Eris can’t help but bite back a keen as he smells the other’s cedar aura. Azriel grabs him by the waist—his hand covering the exact same spot where the Spring Court alpha had held Eris earlier— and turns him around to face him. Eris is proud of himself for maintaining an unimpressed expression on his face as he feels his cunt clench around nothing.

Eris tries not to show how much Azriel affects him, he tries not to cry as the Shadowsinger releases him and puts his hands back in his pockets. He tries to convince himself that he isn’t desperate for this alpha to chase him tomorrow, to accept his challenge, to want him.

“Are you a runner or a loper?” Azriel asks, surprising Eris as the Autumn Court male was expecting some sort of snarky comment that is typical of a member of the Night Court when it comes to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Eris smirks in a manner that he knows irritates the other, hoping for Azriel to let out more of his scent.

“I’ve heard you usually spend your mating run in Autumn as a loper… that you haven’t…” Azriel trails off, his scent growing stronger as he completes the sentence internally. Eris takes a step closer to Azriel.

“That I haven’t taken anyone back to my nest? That I haven’t been bred yet?” He asks, “What is it Azriel, what have you heard?”

What do you want, alpha? Eris shushes his inner omega.

“I’ve heard you’ve chased hundreds of runners but none of them have satisfied you enough to finish the chase.”

Eris spies Azriel gulp and his wings twitch as he says so.

“What you’ve heard is true,” Eris admits and shivers as he senses Azriel’s cedar musk grow stronger. He feels his own inner omega screaming inside of him, begging him to let out his own maple and almond in response. He feels heat pooling in his stomach and he knows he needs to exit this conversation soon before his inner omega takes over completely.

“Are you running?” Azriel asks, stepping even closer to Eris. Eris glares at him, hating that Azriel’s curiosity is feeding into his inner hope that the male might be interested in him.

“Maybe, not that it should matter to you with the remaining Archeron sister in the mix,” Eris crosses his arms over his chest.

“It doesn’t matter to me, I just want to know,” Azriel insists. Eris rolls his eyes. Liar.

“Okay Shadowsinger, whatever you say,” Eris nods at the other and starts to walk off towards his tent, trying not to get his hopes up.

“Eris, wait!” Azriel calls out to him, causing Eris to pause.

“Yes?” He asks, turning around to face the other who hasn’t moved from has spot.

“I…” Eris feels more heat pool into his core at the growl of frustration that Azriel lets out.

“I fucking hate you, but I need to know,” Azriel sounds a mix of conflicted and determined. That is more than what Eris was expecting so he’ll take a win where he can.

“The only thing I will tell you is…,” Eris starts as he approaches Azriel, figuring this is his best chance to let the other know his intentions. Almost as if the Shadowsinger is in a trance he takes a couple steps forward to meet Eris, bringing the two chest to chest. Eris is taller but Azriel is wider with muscles and his wings.

“Hmm” Azriel hums, prompting him. Eris watches as Azriel removes his hands from his pockets and starts to clench and unclench them.

Tell him, his inner omega encourages. Eris knows this is his only chance to get what he wants. If he were to get caught by another loper, not mate him, and his father finds out Eris knows he will never be allowed to participate in another mating run again unless it’s in Autumn and he is loping.

“I’m tired of being empty, Azriel. I want pups, I want a partner, I’m tired of pretending I’m not interested in you,” Eris ignores how Azriel widens his eyes in surprise and continues before he loses his courage, knowing he would be executed by his father if the man ever found out Eris was so weak to his instincts.

“I know what I smelled in that High Lord’s meeting, your hands were around my throat but your alpha was in your eyes and he was daring me not to disobey. I could smell that you wanted me and I can tell that every time you’ve looked at me since you’ve been thinking about it,” Eris sniffs as he feels a tear coming to his eyes, he knows his dream is impossible but he also owes himself one last chance to see it through.

“Remember my scent, Azriel,” Eris shakily reaches out for one of Azriel’s scared hands and takes it into his own, ignoring how his inner omega screams in delight at the contact. Azriel doesn’t resist as Eris brings the shadowsinger’s wrist up to his neck and rubs it against his scent gland before releasing it. He briefly eyes how Azriel’s wings seem to spread wider around the two of them, almost like he’s trying to block Eris from the sight of anyone who may walk by. Eris refuses to get his hopes up, even as he notes how carefully Azriel brings his now-scented hand back to his side.

“Do know, Azriel, if you decide to try and catch me, I won’t make it easy for you. If you successfully catch me, I’ll try to break loose and force you to catch me again. If you give me no other options but to submit to you, I will never let you go. I don’t give second chances, I can’t afford to,” Eris’ amber eyes stay locked on Azriel’s returning hazel gaze, “I refuse to settle for anything less than what I deserve and do not think I will wait for you if some other alpha proves to be stronger.”

Azriel alpha lets out a growl at that statement. Eris ignores the surprise that blinks into Azriel’s eyes at his own reaction and he takes a step back so he can communicate his thoughts clearly—he also begs his inner omega to shut the fuck up about how badly Azriel’s alpha clearly wants them, Eris knows that hope only leads to disappointment. However, Eris also knows that he can’t afford to have any regrets here, so he must finish his piece.

“Think about what you want, Azriel. Don’t let your guilt or loyalty influence your decision. I will say this only once: I refuse to be your back-up option, if you come after me, you better want me.”

With that Eris turns around before Azriel can say anything or shift his expression in response to Eris pouring out his soul for the other to see. He quickly walks away, trying to ignore the eyes he can feel boring into his back as he does so.

That night in his tent Eris weighs the merits of following through with running. The mating run is about lopers chasing the most compatible scent. It’s a bloody affair, lopers often fight each other if they sense another alpha on the path to their runner of desire and even once the loper catches a runner any respectful runner will fight back and make them work for it.

The pre gathering is often a time for lopers and runners to first get familiarized with some scents so they can maybe find one they want to chase the next morning. If he is being honest with himself, Eris is a little embarrassed at how much weakness he showed Azriel in admitting he wants the other to consider him. But Eris also is someone who isn’t afraid to go after what he wants and he knows that realistically this is his only chance. Also he knows that Azriel’s family has probably planted doubts in Azriel’s head so Eris needed to make sure the other saw him as a possible mate.

As Eris lays down to sleep that night, he imagines how tomorrow could go if Azriel decides to choose him. The lopers would get up earlier and paint themselves in their chosen ritualistic symbols from their courts and that represent themselves. The runners would all gather behind the lopers as they line up to race into the forest, ready to compete to find and make the best den before the runners begin. Maybe if Eris is lucky, Azriel will give him a sign that he’s made his decision, that he is going to be coming after him. If that’s the case then Eris knows he won’t be able to stop his cunt from releasing juices as he bathes himself in preparation during the dedicated time while the lopers are in the forest and building dens. Eris would wait with the other runners once he was done, strategizing and planning against possible traps and obstacles that will be in his way. He knows he has an advantage as the heir of Autumn, even if the special powder they take dampen his powers, he grew up jumping from tree to tree along with all his siblings. Eris knows his inner omega will be singing and he will happily take a backseat once it’s finally time to run. He trusts his omega to guide him where to go and he trust in his own strength to keep him safe.

Eris knows he smells good, maple and almonds make a lovely mix and he knows his inner omega won’t be able to stop radiating his scent like a beacon. Eris is only interested in one alpha, and the powder doesn’t affect his wings as they are additional limbs. So he knows if Azriel comes for him, he would come from above. Eris imagines hopping from tree to tree staying under the cover of leaves. He imagines being stuck at one point, up high, the next tree too far for him to make the leap and a crowd of drooling alphas waiting for him to fall. He imagines Azriel finally swooping in and growling at them all, taking care of them viscously. Eris knows his cunt would be dripping at the sight but he also knows that he couldn’t watch he’d have to keep moving.

Eris doesn’t know how Azriel would finally catch him but Eris knows that he’d fight with every fiber of his being, he’d want Azriel to prove that he wants him, that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to claim him, that he’s strong enough to father their pups. He knows that his cunt will be throbbing once he finally submits and he hopes Azriel will take a moment to taste him before he flies them to his den.

Eris imagines that Azriel would probably set up his den in a cave on a mountain, higher than other alphas, easy to defend and probably close to a water and food source. He imagines that Azriel would be thoughtful and supply the cave with nesting materials for Eris to use once he brings him there.

Eris doesn’t even want to imagine what comes next as he knows the idea of Azriel breeding him over and over and claiming him will give him too much hope.

Eris falls asleep, oblivious to the shadows that occupy his tent, their master not planning on letting his dream omega slip away from him when he finally has a chance to make him his.

____________

OKAY so I wasn’t planning to write all of this, it’s kind of just a story I want to happen but I am too lazy to fully write myself.

But any thoughts?

Also lopers don’t have to kill rival lopers but there’s nothing against it if they do… azriel most definitely will eliminate threats.

(Also this is just an idea, if someone were to write something like this I would spread my legs for them especially if they added smut and gore WOOT)

NVM IM GONNA WRITE IT MYSELF MUAHAHHAHAAHA

[average-riot]

I actually wasn't expecting some silly sketchbook doodles on an au which I didn't even explain properly to get that many notes!! 😭 but here we are, so with a drumroll please...!

Hi ! This is an actual-actual post on my au :)

My bicgest focus on this AU is definitely Noah and Alejandro which I'm not even ashamed in admitting to, but to get this started...

A Separate Peace is a book written in 1958, set during WWII, in all-boys boarding school, which follows Gene (in our case, Noah) and Finny (in our case, Alejandro!). I've heard from a friend it's actually school required reading in some places in the USA, but I'm not fully sure! However, I hope at least some people have read it before, considering it's such a good book...

For an easier time reading this, I'll be use Noah and Alejandro's names, instead of Gene or Finny, when explaining the plot! ✨️

It's all even more striking when he keeps dragging this sullen little thing after him

Both 16, Noah, and Alejandro strike an unlikely friendship during their summer session of 42'. Despite veing roommates, anyone would be lying if they claimed there was no difference between the two: While Noah carries a studious life full of cynicism, there's nothing Alejandro won't do. Full of charisma and athleticism, there is not one person on campus who would not recognize Alejandro's endeavours and who doesn't absolutely adore them.

There's not one single scheme which Alejandro proposes which Noah can refuse to participate in, albeit his existence. That included the creation of the Super Suicide Society of the Summer Session. Not as foreboding as it sounds, really- All in all. Just a club full of boys doing things considered mildly dangerous. Fighting rough, jumping from high places, playing the most obscure games.

So, then, where's the issue again?

You could suppose it's jealousy. Although Noah would hardly admit to that claim. He'd rather call it doubtfulness, as there is much to doubt. What causes someone like Alejandro to stick by him? Surely he has a plan. Surely he's just showing off.

It starts with two boys standing on the branches of a tree, Alejandro almost ready to jump off into the stream of the river below. The climax is a little more weight put forward, subtle, destabilization of the sacred place they both stood on, from Noah. And the scene closes with a fall, a broken leg, and denial.

But that doesn't mean an ending, no.

Autumn's coming, after all !

There's more characters, of course, and some people who I've already assigned! Alongside a few other pieces of art. I could technically put the entire plot of the book in here, but I think I'd rather do that over multiple posts, with a bunch of little art pieces— or maybe even start a fanfic on AO3 to sort of document everything!

But I'm definitely doing more about this. <3 ty for reading and paying even some attention to this silly little project

[radigalde]

Pippa Accident guide (Polo Club route)

So far, the only way to get Pippa outright dead is to choose to become possessed during the spooky segment in the horse trailer (#I poke my head out the window to see what's really going on outside..., unavailable for already possessed MC and MC with fear phobia) while either not feeding at all or overfeeding Adrian's horse during your conversation before the trailer.

For overfeeding Foreshadow either give him all 7 of your carrots one by one each time he asks for it, or give the entire bag of treats at once. You can check it by the achievement "Pigging Out on Treats".

Dead Pippa also results in Adrian getting badly hurt (-20 HP for him).

In all other outcomes Pippa survives.

To save Pippa with the best outcome MC has to go to the rescue, grab the reigns (#I loop the reins around my left hand and lean as far to the right as humanly possible as I reach for Enchanter Moon's bridle. or #Full speed ahead! for the second attempt) and pass the stat checks. Note that in order to go to the resque in the first place you'll have make sure that your fear level is less than 10 (some options allow to bypass it with having greed vice). And your horse's saddle should be buckled properly (relevant only for Midsummer Knight's Dream and Knight Rider who will try to trick you during the preparations).

To pass the first rescue attempt (#I loop the reins around my left hand and lean as far to the right as humanly possible as I reach for Enchanter Moon's bridle.) you'll need to:

choose Knight Rider or Midsummer Knight's Dream as your horse or just give a treat to any other horse (do not give them all 7 carrots or entire bag at once!);

and either have body stat of 30 or more or have the combined score of body and charm to be 50 or more.

To pass the second rescue attempt (#Full speed ahead!) you'll need to:

choose Queen of the Knight or Fly by Knight as your horse or just give a treat to any other horse (do not give them all 7 carrots or entire bag at once!);

and have body stat of 20 or more or have the combined score of body and charm to be 40 or more.

Both body and charm stats start with 5 and are gained through the first chapter (yes, including the club routes). On the stats screen body stat is "Physical Strength + Athleticism", charm stat is  "Charisma + Diplomacy". Percentage equals to the score (i.e. 5% is the score of 5).

MC with luck talent and changeling MC get additional chance after failing the second rescue attempt, but you are at RNG's mercy here, since the success requires a dice toss. MC with both luck and changeling childhood gets slightly higher chance of success in this toss, but it's still pure RNG.

The best outcome (for both successful attempts) gives a huge boost to relationships with other club members, small boost ot relationship with Adrian, and fear stat reduction (-3 for success on the first attempt and -2 for the second). However, it also results in HP loss both for you (-10 HP and injured shoulder) and Adrian (-5 HP).

For the second-best outcome you'll need to leave rescue to Adrian while feeding (but not overfeeding) his horse beforehand. For that either don't chase Pippa at all (this includes voluntarily possessed MC who can't help either way), back off from the rescue after the initial failure, or fail both attempts.

With the second-best outcome MC can avoid HP losses (except for the voluntarily possessed MC who fell off their horse and MC who failed rescue), and Adrian will loose 10 HP. Some versions of this outcome (depending on how you achieved it) also give a small fear reduction.

Every other outcome not covered above (mostly achieved with hungry Foreshadow or overfed Foreshadow) will result in saved Pippa but badly hurt Adrian (-20 HP) and possibly MC (depending on them falling off their horse).

Damn, Adrian, feed you goddamned horse yourself, would you?

[rhondafromhr]

Lautity shippers I’m working on something for you!!

Not done yet but I wanted to share this snippet of what I have so far <3

(Also content warning: it’s pretty brief but it does deal with homophobia/internalized homophobia)

Summary: When Solomon decides raising her grades isn’t enough to get her phone back and demands Stephanie round out her extracurriculars, she maliciously complies by joining Grace in her anti-homecoming campaign. After all, yelling at her classmates about spunk and trying to get their dance canceled won’t be very good for his precious public image. Grace is glad to have the extra help, but gets more than she bargained for when she starts to develop feelings for Stephanie.

Stephanie’s hands are twitching. Somewhere out there, somebody is certainly posting the worst, most horrendous take known to man on Twitter at this very moment and here she is without her phone, powerless to do anything about it. It’s such bullshit. Her dad said that if she raised her grades to a C average, she could have it back, but at the last minute he decided that wasn’t enough and demanded she start rounding out her currently lackluster list of extracurriculars. In her opinion, spitting cold hard facts and spicy hot takes online totally counts (it’s basically journalism if you think about it), but he emphatically disagreed. She has to do something she can actually put on a college application, which means smoke club is off the table. To make matters worse, she made the mistake of complaining to Stacy and Brenda about her predicament and they’ve decided she just has to join cheer.

“Seriously, just try the new cheer with us and see how you like it! I mean you’re pretty, you’re popular, why aren’t you a cheerleader already?” says Brenda.

“Uh, doesn’t it also require, like, dance skills and athleticism and enthusiasm?” Steph says with a skeptical look.

“Oh, you can learn all that stuff,” Stacy says cheerfully.

“Yeah, that’s great and all, but isn’t it too late to join?” Stephanie replies, increasingly desperate for some way to end this conversation.

“Technically, yeah, but I’m captain! I’m sure I can talk coach into making an exception for you,” Brenda says “seriously, just give it a try and tell us you don’t absolutely love it!”

“Do I really need to try it to tell you I don’t absolutely love it? I’ve never tried, like, squeezing lemon juice into an open wound, either, but I’m pretty confident I don’t like that.”

They both purse their lips in confusion, pausing just long enough for her salvation to arrive - fittingly enough, in the form of Grace. Honestly, the least she can do is help Stephanie out of this jam. Her inability to butt out and let people cheat on tests in peace is the reason Stephanie’s even in this situation in the first place. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she almost made them all complicit in manslaughter with that stupid prank. If Pete dove to catch Max even a fraction of a second later, she doesn’t want to think about what would’ve happened. Then again, Max’s brush with death seems to have humbled him and he’s at least been trying to be less of an asshole, so she supposes she has to give Grace credit for making Hatchetfield High a more tolerable place to be. Besides that, whether she likes it or not, they’re running in the same circles now. Steph’s been spending more time with Pete and Pete hangs out with Ruth and Richie, who hang out with Grace, so they’re stuck together, at least at lunch. To make things even weirder, Max has been joining them and those four have been letting him.

“Hey! Grace!” Stephanie calls with uncharacteristic enthusiasm as Grace rounds the corner, her “Homec*mming: don’t dance with temptation!” sign held high.

“Hi, Stephanie,” she says, eyeing her suspiciously “I assume you haven’t changed your mind about allowing that excuse for sin and debauchery to happen?”

“I, uh, you know what? Yes I have,” says Stephanie. Surprise flashes across Grace’s face before she hands over the pink glitter gel pen attached to her clipboard so Stephanie can sign. There’s something so strangely charming about the fact that she uses a freaking glitter gel pen of all things for this.

“Actually,” Stephanie says as she puts down her signature with a flourish “I was wondering if you needed any help with your campaign.”

It’s brilliant. She can fulfill her father’s extracurricular requirement and simultaneously make him regret ever asking her to do it. He’s constantly hounding her about not doing anything to smear his public image and hurt his chances of reelection. Joining Grace in going around school harassing all of her peers and telling them they’re going to hell for supporting homecoming is going to reflect very, very poorly on him. Not to mention how pissed off everyone will be if they actually succeed in canceling the dance. They won’t, but a girl can dream. What’s more, the Chasitys are fairly powerful members of the community and crossing them by suddenly ditching their daughter when she promised to help her is also going to make him look bad. It’s a lose-lose situation for her father and, therefore, win-win for her. See, she is pretty damn smart, no matter what he says.

Grace eyes her suspiciously. “You want to help? You? Why the sudden change of heart?”

Shit, how is she going to explain it? There’s no way Grace is going to believe she suddenly saw the light and became a prude overnight.

“I, just, uh, realized I wasn’t being very open-minded to your worldview. Think of it as a gesture of goodwill. Besides, we’re friends, right? Comrades. Classmates. Nighthawks. And Nighthawks gotta stick together, so if canceling the dance is really all that important to you, then what the hell- heck! I mean heck! I’ll help you out.”

“Well, it has been pretty lonely trying to do it all by myself,” Grace admits, “alright, I guess you can join.”

Stacy and Brenda have been watching this play out, periodically turning to each other to exchange bewildered looks. They only become more confused when Stephanie asks them to sign the petition, too. Brenda shrugs and accepts the pen, writing down her name in perfectly neat cursive. She’s stoked for the homecoming game and pep rally, but she couldn’t care less about the dance right now. It’s been two weeks since Max almost died or whatever and promised to stop bossing everybody around, meaning there’s nothing stopping Kyle from asking her out. So why hasn’t he? She’s been watching grand, romantic hoco proposals at lunch every single day and slowly losing hope that he has one planned for her. Stacy immediately follows suit. Steph and Brenda signed, so she’s obviously going to. She doesn’t want to be the odd one out.

“Wow, three signatures! That’s more than I’ve gotten the entire time I’ve been doing this! Steph, you’re incredible!” The way Grace’s face lights up is almost endearing and Stephanie has to admit that it’s nice to get some praise and recognition for once.

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Steph replies with a faint, mischievous smirk.

Before they part ways to head to their next class, Stephanie finds herself agreeing to go to Grace’s after school. Apparently, if she’s serious about this, she needs her own sign to carry around.

“It’ll be fun, Steph,” Grace insists “think of it like arts and crafts!”

“My favorite,” Stephanie says flatly as they load Grace’s pink Schwinn into the backseat of her car.

It turns out that the Chasity household is all the way across town. Grace must be surprisingly athletic if she makes that commute on her bike twice a day. It sits in a cul de sac lined with near-identical two-story houses, complete with perfectly maintained green lawns and white picket fences. It’s exactly how Stephanie would have pictured it. At least it is until they go upstairs to Grace’s bedroom and she sees that the door’s been removed from his hinges.

“I know open floor plans are trendy right now, but this seems like overkill,” she says “why do you just, like, straight up not have a bedroom door?”

“Oh, I’m not allowed to,” Grace says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world “my parents are worried I might get up to some inappropriate activities unsupervised.”

“Inappropriate? You?” Steph says “what, are they afraid you’re gonna stay up until eight forty-five instead of eight thirty doing bible study?”

The joke is lost on Grace.

“No, Steph, really bad stuff! Like…” she pauses and looks around as if to make sure they’re alone, then lowers her voice to a whisper “…reading lewd magazines or touching myself.”

This explains a lot about Grace. Despite herself, Stephanie can’t help but feel bad for her. Along with that comes a slight, unexpected sense of kinship. She knows a thing or two about overly controlling parents. Sure, Solomon ignores her ninety percent of the time, but the ten percent he doesn’t, he’s always on her ass about something she should be doing or shouldn’t be doing or needs to be doing differently.

Grace’s small bedroom is immaculately clean and organized. It consists of a twin-sized bed in the corner with a pastel pink and blue quilt, a small desk and a largely empty bookshelf lined with only a small handful of church-approved reading material. Stephanie’s eyes are drawn to the figure of Jesus on the crucifix hanging on the door.

“What’s with the sweater?” she asks “is that some kind of obscure biblical reference I don’t get?”

“Oh, no,” Grace replies “I just knitted that for him ‘cause I think he needs to cover up. I get that he died for our sins, but he doesn’t need to have his nips out to do it.”

Stephanie stifles a laugh as they settle down on the floor with their posterboard and Grace’s impressive collection of colorful markers and get to work on her sign. To make things more interesting, she challenges herself to come up with the worst possible slogan and get Grace to approve it.

“Oh, I’ve got it,” she says, snapping her fingers “how about ‘homecoming? More like hell going.’”

“I like that,” says Grace “it really gets the point across. You’re pretty smart, Steph.” If her eyes water at that, it’s just allergies. Despite the cleanliness of the room, Grace must have forgotten to dust it recently. Yeah. That’s it.

Stephanie doesn’t get much sleep that night. With no Twitter fights to distract her, she simply stares at the ceiling until two in the morning thinking about the surprising amount of fun she had hanging out with Grace today and the glance she got into Grace’s home life that awakened a new sense of sympathy for the school snitch. Given how ludicrously strict the Chasitys seem to be, her existence is probably totally devoid of typical teenage mischief. She probably hasn’t so much as snuck out for a late-night convenience store run. It’ll take some convincing, but maybe Steph can change that.

God, who is she? Why is she lying here actually thinking about willingly spending time with Grace? The lack of screen time must be messing with her head. She always thought getting off of that cesspool of an app would improve her brain function, but apparently not. She needs her phone back, pronto. She just has to survive the next couple weeks first.

The second she wakes up, Stephanie realizes she’s going to fall asleep in class without the help of caffeine. She stops off at that singing coffee shop and gets her usual, a black americano with seven shots. She’s not sure they’re even legally allowed to serve that much caffeine in one drink, but they always indulge her. Being the mayor’s daughter does have its perks. On a whim, she decides to get an herbal peach tea for Grace. She double checks that it’s caffeine free and watches the barista vigilantly to make sure she doesn’t spit in it as it’s rumored they sometimes do here. It’s not like she wants to, but they agreed to touch base before class and it would be rude not to bring her anything. Solomon may be a shitty dad, but he raised her to have manners, damnit.

Grace is waiting for her on the steps in front of the school and accepts the tea almost cautiously, tentatively taking a sip once Stephanie reassures her that it doesn’t contain what she refers to as a gateway drug. Stephanie actually googled it once to try and prove her wrong and learned that caffeine is, in fact, technically a drug, even if she still doesn’t believe it’s a slippery slope to smoking “the devil’s lettuce” like Grace insists it is. No wonder she gets headaches when she doesn’t drink her seven shot americano. Huh, Grace might almost have a point.

“Oh, that’s really good,” she says brightly “I usually just drink plain hot water, but this is way better. I think it might be my new favorite. Thanks, Steph!”

Stephanie decides not to wonder why she’s so pleased that Grace liked it or why her heart flutters a little at the thought that it’s Grace’s new favorite. Maybe it’ll become her go-to order and she’ll think of Stephanie every time she drinks it.

“Alright, we’ve got like ten minutes before classes start, let’s get this show on the road,” Steph says. She sets her sights on a couple nerds climbing up the steps, engaged in a conversation about some TV show about a time traveling doctor.

“Hey,” she says “Rita! TJ!”

“It’s, uh, it’s Reese and PJ,” the one with the pigtails and the glasses says nervously. They both look a little terrified of her, which makes sense. She does run with the jocks and cheerleaders who were probably picking on them until recently.

“Right,” she says, trying to emulate her father’s constituent charming smile “say, you don’t want your tax dollars funding a school-sanctioned fuckfest, do you?”

“Steph! Language,” Grace scolds her.

“Uh,” Reese replies, clearly distressed and confused.

“We’re high schoolers,” says PJ, equally uncertain “I mean, I have, like, a part-time job at the bookstore, so I guess I’m technically a taxpayer? Look, is this some new type of bullying? Because it’s making me really uncomfortable, I’d honestly rather you just gave me a swirly and got it over with.”

“PJ!” Reese says “speak for yourself! I don’t want a swirly. I’ll take the weird experimental bullying.”

“Oh, perish the thought! It’s not bullying. We’re out here trying to save souls,” Stephanie says dramatically “as a wise woman once said, homecoming is just an excuse to dry hump in the gym. We can’t allow that such depravity and debauchery to take place. Not at our school. Sign this petition to keep the hallways free of sin and the gym floor free of spunk.” She’s actually having a blast hamming it up like this. Maybe she should look into drama club. She turns to look at Grace, who’s positively beaming and giving her two thumbs up.

“If we, uh, if we sign your petition, will you leave us alone?” PJ asks, shrinking back from Stephanie and hiding behind Reese.

“Deal,” Steph says, already handing her the glitter gel pen. She and Reese hastily sign and book it to get away from her.

It gets better from there. She catches Brad Callahan in the hallway and harasses him to sign, too. When he refuses on the grounds that Sarah Peterson agreed to go with him and they’re “totally going to get to third base”, she gets to channel her inner Grace and tell him he’s going to burn in hell. If there is an afterlife similar to what’s posited in the bible, she honestly does believe he will, but for entirely different reasons.

“Have fun letting the devil lick your skin clean off with his sandpaper tongue,” she calls after him. God, that was cathartic.

By the end of the week, half the school is thoroughly annoyed by her and Grace’s proselytizing and the other half have, by some miracle, actually agreed to sign that damn petition. Every day, she comes up with another excuse (reason. They’re valid reasons) to hang out with Grace after school. They have to make new flyers to hand out. They have to make pamphlets to educate people on the safety hazard of bodily fluids on the gym floor. Now that they’re getting serious traction, they have to discuss how to bring the petition to the principal and then, potentially, the school board.

It was only a matter of time before Solomon caught wind of all this and confronted her. She gets home from drafting their proposal for principal Blim to find him waiting up for her in the living room, a scowl on his face. It gives her slight deja vu for the day her precious smartphone was taken from her.

“Well, if it isn’t my October surprise.”

“Oh, hi, Dad. To what do I owe the pleasure?” she says mockingly.

“Don’t get cute with me,” he says “care to explain why I’m getting phone calls from your school about you trying to cancel the homecoming dance and yelling at your classmates about ‘spunk’?”

“You were the one who told me to round out my extracurriculars,” she replies with a smug grin “I’m helping Grace Chasity with her campaign. Haven’t you heard? Homecoming is just a disgusting excuse to dry hump in the gym.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Stephanie, I meant a real extracurricular. Volleyball! German club! Yearbook! Anything but whatever the hell this is!”

“What’s the big deal?” she says “you were so worried what people would think of my nocturnal activities when that rumor started going around and now it’s not an issue anymore. Everyone knows I’m strictly anti-sex.”

“Well, you’re going to knock it off this instant if you don’t want me to smash your phone with a hammer for real.”

“Okay. Done,” she says, pausing for effect before grinning evilly and adding, “oh, you know what. I just thought of something. The Chasitys are a pretty big deal in the community, huh? Pretty important in the church. They’re not going to be too happy with me if I ditch their daughter and leave her out to dry when I promised I’d help her, are they?”

Solomon throws his hands up and lets out an exasperated groan.

“You’re killing me, Stephanie!” he says “you’re killing me with what you’re doing!”

“If only, Dad. If only,” she says quietly, still smirking as he retreats to his study.

Grace climbs out of bed and stretches, feeling slightly groggy from sleeping in an extra half hour. Steph’s giving her a ride today, meaning she didn’t have to get up quite so early to give herself time to bike to school. She usually doesn’t mind it - she likes getting the fresh air and the way it quiets her usually racing mind - but it’s pouring rain today and she’d much rather be inside a warm, dry car. Steph’s company doesn’t hurt, either. She knows their relationship is strictly business, but she’s been having fun with Steph and she’s starting to think of her as an actual friend. She wonders if Steph feels the same way. She’s never had many friends before, so it’s hard to tell. She gets dressed, brushes her teeth, washes her face and even puts on some of that moisturizer Steph gave her to try when she complained about her dry skin. She goes downstairs and toasts up two blueberry bagels, spreading cream cheese onto them and placing one neatly into a Tupperware container for Steph. She always oversleeps and misses breakfast, so Grace has been trying to bring her something reasonably nutritious every day. It’s the least she can do with how much Steph has helped her recently.

Stephanie pulls up in front of her house and she climbs into the car, immediately relaxed by the feeling of the heat blasting and the sound of soft jazz playing on the stereo.

“I like the music,” Grace comments.

“Yeah, I thought it’d fit the cozy rainy day vibes,” says Steph.

“It is cozy,” Grace agrees.

“So, two hundred signatures, huh?” Steph says “did you ever think you’d get that far?”

“No,” says Grace “not in my wildest dreams. I never could have done it on my own. I’m nowhere near as convincing as you. If you can believe it, a lot of people say I come on a little strong.”

“What? No way!” Stephanie says in a lighthearted, teasing manner. “Maybe you do, but that’s not always a bad thing,” she adds after a moment with a rare fond, sincere smile.

The heat must be turned up a little too high, because Grace can feel her face flushing. They arrive at school and as Stephanie reaches into the backseat to grab her bag, Grace wonders what it would be like to lean in and kiss her. How soft her lips would be and whether she’d taste bitter from all that coffee she slams. Oh, heck. Oh, no.

She shoves that thought deep down into the recesses of her mind where it belongs. She tells Steph they should divide and conquer instead of sticking together today, claiming it’s because they’re running out of time and they need to cover as much ground as possible. She isn’t sure, but she could swear Steph looks a little sad. Despite her efforts, her mind keeps wandering back to that moment in the car as she traverses the hallway trying to collect more signatures at lunch. She’d give anything for some kind of distraction right now. Well, ask and you shall receive, as they say. Max approaches and, as usual, he brightens up when he sees her.

“Hey, Grace,” he says cheerfully, absolutely enraptured by her “what are you doin’?”

“Hi, Max,” she says absently, too wrapped up in her current crisis to scold him for leering at her like that “getting the dance canceled, same as usual.”

“Where are you headed? Maybe I could, uh, carry your books for you? If you want. No pressure. Or we could just walk together,” he says with a bright, hopeful smile.

“Max, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, we’re way too young for that! Besides, if you don’t change your ways, you’re already hellbound. You don’t need to make things worse for yourself by associating with a sinner like me.”

Max furrows his brow in genuine confusion. “What are you talking about? You’re, like, the biggest prude in school.”

She feels tears pricking at her eyes. “That’s really sweet of you to say, Max, but you don’t understand. I think I like someone. Like, like-like them.”

“Is it me?” he asks, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. She gives him an incredulous look.

“No,” she says. His face falls slightly, but there’s no time to dwell on his disappointment now. Who the hell is this guy, anyway? He’s going to kick his ass- wait, no. No, he’s not. Grace is her own person and she’s allowed to go out with whoever she wants. It’s not this mystery dude’s fault if she likes him and not Max.

“That’s the thing,” she continues, “that someone’s a girl, too!”

The tears flow freely now and she begins to sob quietly. Max’s eyes go wide and he freezes up like a deer in headlights. He has no idea how to handle this. Until recently, he made people cry on a near daily basis, usually deliberately. Getting them to stop crying, on the other hand, is uncharted territory.

“Aw, Grace, c’mon, don’t cry,” he starts. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t do much. “I’ll sign your petition! I’ll make everybody sign your petition! How’s that sound? No homecoming! No spunk on the gym floor!” When she doesn’t even respond to that, he knows it’s serious. “Lots of people like girls. I like girls! Who doesn’t? They’re great.”

She sniffles. “Yeah, b-but you’re a boy. You’re supposed to!”

He pauses. “Well, I don’t bring it up a lot, but I like guys, too. See, you’re not alone. We’re, like, uh, what’s the phrase? Like two peas in a pod,” he says, trying to sound gentle and reassuring, which is also uncharted territory for him. She pauses and looks at him for a second.

“Oh, gosh,” she says and starts bawling even harder. He winces and realizes he’s in way over his head. It’s time to message Ruth and Richie for backup.

Grace is crying, plz help

He receives a string of incredibly graphic threats and knife emojis from both of them in response and adds, I swear I didn’t do it!! At least not on purpose!!

Yeah well there’s a difference between intent and impact bitch. Smh have you already forgotten the anti bullying assembly??? Richie replies but yeah meet us in the AV classroom, it’s empty rn

He leads Grace there and Ruth and Richie await them. She sniffles and takes a seat. Ruth hands her a water bottle and Richie gives her a small pack of tissues. He always carries some around to dab the sweat from his forehead. It’s not like they’re very useful for him, anyway. They usually end up disintegrating from becoming so soaked.

“You wanna tell us what’s wrong, Grace?” Richie asks.

She tugs at the sleeve of Max’s letterman, looking at him with red, puffy eyes. His chest tightens. It’s hard to see her like this, so sad and scared and drained. His face forms a puzzled expression as he tries to figure out what she’s trying to communicate until he finally realizes.

“Oh,” he says “you want me to tell ‘em?” She nods, still dabbing at her eyes with the tissues. “She’s sad ‘cause she likes a girl. But there’s nothing wrong with that, right? Who doesn’t like girls?”

“Uh, me,” says Richie.

“Oh, right, sorry, Richie,” Max corrects himself, looking a little sheepish.

“Preach!” says Ruth, raising her hand to high five Max. He enthusiastically returns it. “If girls loving girls is wrong, then I don’t want to be right! See, Grace, you’re not alone. You’re just like me. Two peas in a pod!”

Grace buries her face in her hands and starts bawling again.

He looks at Ruth and Richie with slight indignation.

“See,” he says “it’s not so easy, is it?” His point made, he turns to watch Grace helplessly. Grace, who was the mastermind behind the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for him, even if he did later find out that it was an admittedly well deserved revenge prank. Grace, who didn’t have to be his friend and probably shouldn’t even be giving him the time of day after the way he treated her, but still does anyway. Grace, who’s usually so opinionated and snarky and passionate, always fired up about something and never shy about it, regardless of what other people think.

He’s been learning to accept that he can’t control every little thing. That trying to have power over everything and everybody was deeply unhealthy and all it really accomplished apart from a fleeting power trip was making everybody miserable and secretly resentful of him. It’s hard letting go, but it’s also been liberating. The powerlessness he feels right now is crushing, though. There’s nothing freeing about it. He can’t stand sitting here watching his friend break down because she thinks that some fundamental part of herself is wrong. He wants to fight the people who made her feel this way, but he suspects that particular list is too extensive for him to work his way through. What good would it do now, anyway? Maybe it’s finally time to take the advice of the exhausted, overworked second grade teacher who was definitely not paid enough to put up with all of his shit and use his words instead of hitting. Better late than never, as they say.

“Grace,” he says gently, not even sure where he’s going with this, but unable to stand the silence anymore “we’re, uh, we’re here for you, alright? It’s gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! No it’s not,” she cries in a strained, hoarse voice “even if it’s true that there’s nothing wrong with liking girls, my parents sure don’t think so! What’s gonna happen to me if they find out? They’ll probably make me go live at abstinence camp with the Jerries for the rest of my life!”

“Well, we’re eighteen, right?” says Ruth “they can’t make you.”

“And if they try, you’ll just come live with me instead,” says Richie “uncle Paul would be more than cool with it. He loves you. He says you’re a good influence because you don’t let me blow off my homework to watch anime and you make me go to bed before three in the morning.”

“Well, you need your eight hours,” she says with a soft and sincere, but tired smile “thanks, guys. That does make me feel a little better.” She tentatively pulls Richie into a hug, not caring about the stench or how damp he is. Ruth, of course, eagerly joins in, not about to miss the opportunity for human contact. Max stays put and looks at them with hesitation, not sure if they want him to join.

“What are you doing, Max?” says Grace “get in here.” Well, that answers his question. He still holds back, watching Ruth and Richie for their reactions.

“It’s only fair,” says Richie with a smirk “you did make her cry.” He scowls, but there’s no real malice behind it. He comes over and wraps his arms around them tight.

With Grace sufficiently cheered up, there’s still one question on everyone’s minds.

“So, who’s the lucky lady?” says Ruth “wait, it’s not me, is it?”

“What? No,” she says, her signature snark finally making a comeback.

“It’s okay, Ruth. I got shot down, too,” says Max “two peas in a pod!” They high five again.

“It’s Steph,” she finally admits.

“Makes sense,” says Richie “she is waifu material.” Ruth nods in agreement.

“Waifu material?” Max asks, furrowing his brow in confusion again. Richie places a hand on each of his shoulders and looks at him with an intense, solemn expression.

“I have much to teach you,” he says “come over after football practice, we’re watching all the classics. We’ll start you off with Ouran, I feel like it’s pretty approachable for a beginner.”

Ruth grabs his arm. “What? No fair, I still haven’t gotten to show him Star Wars. Come over to mine, Max, we’re watching the prequels.”

“The prequels, Ruth? Seriously? As if subjecting him to the trilogy isn’t bad enough.”

“Well, what do you know, you won’t even sit through one episode of Clone Wars with me!”

As they continue to bicker, a warmth blooms in his chest. They actually want to spend time with him to the point of arguing over who gets to. They want to be around him when they don’t have to. They like him. They’re not just sticking around out of fear. They trust him enough to invite him into their homes. To ask him to share in the nerdy interests he used to make fun of them for. He smiles softly and pulls them into another hug.

“We can do both,” he says.

“Ugh, fine,” Richie huffs, but a reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Hey, Grace, you want to join us?” Max asks “oh, we should invite Steph and Pete, too!”

“Oh, I appreciate the invite, but I have my bible study group tonight.” That much is true. She is supposed to meet up with Mary, Gabe and Noah later to study scripture. She’s not sure she can face them after her realization today, but if she skips, her parents are sure to hear about it. Besides that, the alternative of joining them for their movie night and facing Peter is only slightly less daunting. It’s obvious that he like-likes Steph, too. She’s worried it’s going to make things awkward between them. What if Steph likes her and not Peter and he ends up getting hurt? What if Steph likes Peter and not Grace and she has to watch them hold hands and make eyes at each other and stuff down her heartbreak and pretend she never wanted any of those things?

[asliceofzosan]

please do continue your thoughts on the hockey player sanji and figure skater zoro bc i am eating it like a feral dog rn 👀👀👀👀👀🫦

with pleasure !! fair warning, i don't know every single thing about both sports. i've retained info from when i was super obsessed with them but i might not be the most accurate HAHAHA this one is about zoro as a figure skater ! mayhaps if u send me another ask, i can talk about sanji as a hockey player :>

when i was thinking about figure skater zoro, the first thing that came to my mind was which discipline would he major in. when he was a kid, i think he was dead set on being an olympic gold medalist and was determined to get it alone. so he wanted to be the best in the mens singles discipline. i saw someone wrote in the tags of my post that sword fighting is akin to figure skating (at least in singles) to not be a team sport. for the most part, it really isn't. especially since early zoro, who was determined to become the best figure skater in the world, didn't think being in a team yet mattered to his goal.

in this au, i envision that kuina just had a major spinal injury that left her unable to skate again. kuina and zoro had the same childhood coach (kuina's dad) and eventually zoro changed coaches when he grew up and decided to switch to pairs skating. (his current coach is mihawk — former 3 time olympic gold medalist. twice in mens singles and once in pairs. debating on whether his one skating partner before retirement would be perona or someone else)

the reason why i think he'd much rather go for pairs skating over ice dancing is due to pairs skating being more acrobatic. which isn't to say he hasn't considered it before !! some of his other figure skating idols are in ice dancing. however, he found pairs skating more appealing to him and his personal goal.

the absolute trust as well that you and your partner have is crucial. zoro entering pairs skating ties into what his philosophy of strength is. he can't be the best alone. he can be the best with nami as his skating partner, who trusts him implicitly to catch her every time she's tossed into the air. there's also so many opportunities to push himself mentally and physically when in pairs. it's not just you on the ice. you can't be the only one who looks good. your partners and you have to be in sync the entire time. this definition from the us figure skating site sums it up pretty well:

"The pairs event combines the athleticism of singles skating with the challenge of unison and the acrobatics of overhead lifts and throws. Each movement is performed in unison, requiring a significant amount of timing and trust between partners." (usfigureskating)

also on a personal note, i have a very self-indulgent headcanon that zoro is very musically inclined. probably took lots of dance and ballet lessons as a kid to strengthen his skillset for skating. he's very strict with hitting beats just right and feeling the flow of the music from his head down to his toes. thats very important in figure skating. zoro considers the presentation score just as important as the technical score and anyone who says otherwise is stupid.

he's very defensive over his sport. he's had to be held back from fist fights before with obnoxious hockey kids who thought his sport was lame and not a real sport. that's part of the reason why he never found interest in hockey. though his best friend luffy is a fantastic athlete in his own right, he can't for the life of him ever find it enjoyable. (except when the teams go into fights on ice. he cheers for luffy to punch people in the face every time)

ofc zoro only really ends up having more interest in the sport when sanji joins luffy's team a few years later. but that's a story for another day ;)

[blueiscoool]

Why are Hundreds of Climbers Heading into the ‘Death Zone’ on Mt Everest This Spring?

Thick murky clouds fill the sky, with freezing winds carrying snow faster than 100 miles per hour. With a frigid –30 degrees Fahrenheit temperature, life-threatening snowstorms and avalanches are frequent.

And these are typical conditions on the world’s highest mountain: Mount Everest.

The behemoth towers 29,032 feet (8,849 meters) between Nepal and Tibet in the Himalayas, with its peak surpassing most clouds in the sky.

An attempt to climb Everest requires months, sometimes years, of training and conditioning – even then, reaching the summit is far from guaranteed. In fact, more than 300 people are known to have died on the mountain.

And yet the mountain still draws hundreds of climbers who are determined to reach its peak every spring. Here’s what it takes to make the climb and what has motivated some climbers to summit the world’s highest peak.

‘I thought I was in pretty good shape’

Dr. Jacob Weasel, a trauma surgeon, successfully summited Everest last May after conditioning for nearly a year.

“I would put on a 50-pound backpack and do two hours on a stair stepper with no problem,” Weasel said. “So, I thought that I was in pretty good shape.” However, the surgeon said he was humbled after discovering that his fitness was no match for the lofty athleticism required by the mountain.

“I would take five steps and have to take 30 seconds to a minute to catch my breath,” Weasel recalled of his struggle with the lack of oxygen available while ascending Everest.

Climbers aiming for the summit usually practice an acclimatizing rotation to adjust their lungs to the thinning oxygen levels once they arrive on the mountain. This process involves mountaineers traveling upward to one of the four designated camps on Everest and spending one to four days there before traveling back down.

This routine is repeated at least two times to allow the body to adapt to declining oxygen levels. It increases a climber’s chances of survival and summiting.

“If you took somebody and just plopped them up at the high camp on Everest, not even on the (top), they would probably go into a coma within 10 to 15 minutes,” Weasel said.

“And they would be dead within an hour because their body is not adjusted to that low of oxygen levels.”

While Weasel has successfully summited dozens of mountains, including Kilimanjaro (19,341 ft), Chimborazo (20, 549 ft), Cotopaxi (19,347 ft), and most recently Aconcagua (22,837 ft) in January, he said none of them compares to the high-altitude of Mount Everest.

“Because no matter how well you are trained, once you get to the limits of what the human body can take, it’s just difficult,” he continued.

At its highest altitude, Everest is nearly incapable of sustaining human life and most mountaineers use supplementary oxygen above 23,000 feet. The lack of oxygen poses one of greatest threats to climbers who attempt to summit, with levels dropping to less than 40% when they reach the Everest “death zone.”

Tents of mountaineers are pictured at Everest base camp in the Mount Everest region of Solukhumbu district on April 18, 2024.

‘It’s difficult to survive up there’

The first target for mountaineers is Everest base camp at approximately 17,000 feet, which takes climbers about two weeks. Then they ascend to the three remaining camps stationed along the mountain.

Camp four, the final one before the summit, sits along the edge of the death zone at 26,000 feet, exposing climbers to an extremely thin layer of air, subzero temperatures, and high winds powerful enough to blow a person off the mountain.

“It’s difficult to survive up there,” Weasel said. He recalls passing bodies of climbers who died on the mountain – which isn’t uncommon. The bodies of the fallen mountaineers are well-preserved, exhibiting little to no decay due to the intense cold temperatures.

“I am probably more familiar with death and the loss of life than most people,” the surgeon said. “For me it was just a reminder of the gravity of the situation and the fragility of what life is… even more so motivation for appreciating the opportunity.”

High-altitude cerebral edema (HACE) is one of the most common illnesses climbers face while attempting to summit. “Your brain is starved of oxygen,” Weasel said.

HACE results in the brain swelling during its attempt to regain stable oxygen levels, causing drowsiness, trouble speaking and thinking. This confusion is often accompanied by blurred vision and sporadic episodes of delusion.

“I had auditory hallucinations where I was hearing voices [of friends] that I thought were coming from behind me,” Weasel recalled. “And I had visual hallucinations,” he added. “I was seeing the faces of my children and my wife coming out of the rocks.”

Weasel recalled crossing paths with a friend, Orianne Aymard, who was trapped on the mountain due to an injury. “I remember staring at her for like five minutes and just saying, ‘I’m so sorry,’” Weasel said.

“I’ve spent over a decade of my life training to help people as a surgeon, and being in a position where there’s somebody who requires your help and you are unable to offer any assistance… that feeling of helplessness was tough to deal with,” Weasel said.

Aymard survived. She was rescued and suffered from several broken bones in her foot, in addition to severe frostbite on her hands. Despite all her injuries, Aymard is considered one of the lucky ones.

Mountaineers climbing during their ascend to summit Mount Everest on May 7, 2021.

‘Their bodies will get frozen into the mountain’

Everest has long been a tomb for climbers who have succumbed to harsh conditions or accidents on its slopes.

When a loved one or fellow climber is severely injured or dies on the mountain, it’s routine to leave them behind if you’re unable to save them, according to Alan Arnette, a mountaineer coach who summited Everest in 2014.

“What most teams do out of respect for that climber, they will move the body out of sight,” he said. And that’s only if they can.

“Sometimes that’s just not practical because of the bad weather, or because their bodies will get frozen into the mountain,” Arnette said. “So, it’s very difficult to move them.”

Seeing a corpse on Everest is comparable to seeing a horrible car accident, according to the mountain coach. “You don’t turn around and go home,” Arnette said. “You respectfully slow down… or say a prayer for that person, and then you continue.”

It’s been 10 years since the single deadliest accident on the world’s highest mountain, after an avalanche killed 12 Sherpa guides. And 2023 was recorded as the deadliest year on Everest, with 18 fatalities on the mountain – including five people that are still unaccounted for.

The process of recovering bodies is extensive, sometimes impossible. Helicopter rescues and search missions are challenging due to the high altitude and frequently treacherous conditions, resulting in some rescuers dying in their attempt to save others.

Mountaineers as they climb during their ascend to summit Mount Everest on May 12, 2021.

‘Watching the sunrise from 29,000 feet’

The 3,000 feet climb from camp four to the summit can take anywhere from 14 to 18 hours. Therefore, mountaineers typically leave the camp at night.

“That entire night was cold,” Weasel recalled. “It’s dark, it’s windy.” But it was proven to be worth it in the morning, he said.

“Watching the sunrise from 29,000 feet and having that pyramid of Everest’s shadow projected onto the valley below you…,” Weasel said. “It was probably one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life,” he continued.

“It’s weird standing up there and knowing that everything else on the planet is below where you’re standing.”

The size of the mountain is humbling, the surgeon said. “I’ve never felt so small,” he recalled. “That mixture of humility and connectedness with something bigger than yourself is the proper place from which we ought to approach our existence on this planet.”

Like Weasel, Arnette summited at sunrise, and experienced this same feeling of “smallness.” At the top there were “more mountains than you can count,” Arnette remembered. “It was a sense of enormous gratitude and at the same time I knew I had to get back down.”

After about 20 minutes to an hour, climbers typically start to descend back to the base of the mountain.

Jacob Weasel.

‘Bigger than yourself’

Before leaving for Nepal, Weasel was gifted an eagle’s feather as a beacon for his Native American heritage.

He was determined to plant the feather on top of Everest “as a symbol of our people and what we’ve endured for the past several hundred years,” Weasel said. “Showing that our spirit is not broken, but we’re able to rise above the things that have happened to us,” he added.

“I remember planting that eagle’s feather on the top of the world and the feeling of real privilege that I felt in representing our people.” And this is why he decided to summit Everest, to be an example that anything is possible for young Native children and his tribe.

“Knowing what it’s like up there, for me personally, the only real justification for going and putting your life, and other lives, at risk is if you’re climbing for a reason that is much bigger than you,” said Weasel.

Arnette attempted to climb Everest three times before he successfully summited.

“My first three tries, I wasn’t clear on my why,” Arnette said. When his mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, he looked at his purpose for climbing differently.

“I wanted to do it to raise money for Alzheimer’s and honor my mother,” Arnette said.

There are approximately 300 people that have been issued a permit from the Nepal government to climb the mountain this year, according to Arnette. And he said the number is down from previous years.

“I think one of the reasons is because we had the 18 deaths last year, and people realize that Mount Everest is a dangerous mountain.”

However, he doesn’t believe that should deter climbers from attempting to summit. “I’m a big believer that when you go climb these mountains that you come home a better version of yourself,” Arnette said.

“Everest has become too commercialized with ‘you’re stepping over dead bodies’ and ‘it’s littered with trash,’” the mountain coach said. “The reality is that it is a very small degree all of that, but there’s a lot of joy that people get out of doing it,” he continued.

“And that’s the reason that we climb mountains.”

By Kara Nelson.

[bluespring864]

A few short hours ago I witnessed a historic sporting event live and as I saw Ilia Malinin get closer and closer to the end of his free skate with a series of ever more crazy jumping passes (which is saying something, considering he had opened with the quad axel), the prevailing feeling wasn't one of amazement, though that was present as well.

No, the prevailing feeling was dread.

This sport, my favourite sport, has ever been a paradox, of athleticism pushed to the limit competing with unique artistry. It feels like both sides of the sport are forever locked in a sometimes vicious and extreme, sometimes beautiful and strangely harmonious battle that neither can ever win and that neither can ever give up on.

Some of us spectators feel, deep down, that figure skating will cease to exist should one side ever triumph over the other.

Hence the dread.

I saw an amazing athletic feat deserving of the greatest admiration and I felt like this sinking feeling in my stomach was disrespectful to what I was witnessing but I couldn't help myself.

This was a win for the jumps. The biggest one we've ever seen. There have been many in recent years, but never one this extreme.

A series of amazing, incredible and, yes, beautiful jumping passes masquerading as a program. Yes, there were other required elements (spins, a step sequence, a choreo sequence) but still. But still. A series of jumps.

The audience was amazed by the sheer athletic prowess of what they saw.

Did they still see figure skating though?

Technically, yes. But artistically?

Looking back, it seems inevitable, that this kid with exceptional jumping ability, who had been forced to accept in recent years that programs with much lower technical content could still win easily against his own, would snap at some point and throw down a skate the likes of which the figure skating world had never seen before.

By doing so, he has pushed this sport to its limits. Current limits, I should say, because the winner's interview made it clear Ilia Malinin has no intention of stopping there. And why would he. For him, it wouldn't make any sense to stop.

For (men's) figure skating, I'm not so sure.

This seems like a make or break moment and the figure skating world will most definitely be reeling from the implications of what just happened for some time. Or maybe there will be an attempt at business as usual, until the implications finally catch up with everyone.

Like a delayed axel, we might be suspended in the air for a moment longer before we drop.

God I hope I'm wrong.

On the other hand, I'm weirdly looking forward to it.

Maybe we'll stick the landing, somehow.

In any case the question is:

Quo vadis, figure skating?

[freeuselandonorris]

for the director's cut: (sorry to ask more about oscar pov) but i would love to know literally anything oscar pov from fit you like a glove like a puppet 🥵

omg never apologise for the excuse to let me think about WHY, EXACTLY, oscar piastri might want to get a massive fist stuck up him.

this is actually perfect timing because i watched tina horn's great online seminar on fisting the other day which was...certainly illuminating from an instructional point of view but ALSO went deep (ahem) into the psychology and history of fisting in a way that really chimed with me and also, i think, this version of oscar.

under the cut because i could write you a fucking BOOK on fisting lmao

one of the appeals of fisting that was discussed quite a bit is the idea of it as a kind of 'extreme sport' version of sex, so a difficult goal to attain and one that requires a kind of parallel to athleticism. this is a massive part of its appeal To Me and it's also why i particularly like writing it for drivers. and of course, when you add lando's ridiculous shovel paws into the mix, it's even MORE of a challenge and therefore even more of an achievement/mastery over the body to actually successfully do it.

i am getting very much into the weeds of sexual theory now but one of the terms that was discussed was circlusion, coined by bini adamczak in this incredible essay - i'd not come across the term before but it essentially refers to the act of being penetrated as an active, participatory event rather than a passive 'getting fucked'.

I wish to propose to you a new term, one that has been missing for a long time: “circlusion,” or, if you prefer a purer latinate, “circumclusion.” It denotes the antonym of penetration. It refers to the same physical process, but from the opposite perspective. Penetration means pushing something––a shaft or a nipple––into something else––a ring or a tube. Circlusion means pushing something––a ring or a tube––onto something else––a nipple or a shaft. The ring and the tube are rendered active. That’s all there is to it.

i LOVE this concept, and again i think it's very relevant to how oscar feels about the act of getting fisted (not that he'd be aware of this term or have conceptualised it for himself like this, but on a subconscious level he'd very much see himself as an active participant in taking lando inside him rather than the other way around). funnily enough, even though i wasn't familiar with the term it was definitely in my mind as i was writing it, reading it back now - lines like The prominent muscles of his back flex. He looks powerful, like a predator at rest.

i think this all also loops back to the beginning of the fic where the catalyst for them trying this in the first place is lando needling oscar about what his kinks are and then freaking out a bit when oscar picks this. i think there's some stubborn, slightly perverse streak in oscar that chose taking lando's fist deliberately, not necessarily because he's always had a massive fisting kink but because he knew it was the one thing lando would be nervous of, and he could use it to prove to lando how strong his body is and how much he can take. i think - again, on a subconscious level - that's a wildly attractive proposition to oscar.

[eryiss]

[Fraxus] Multifaceted- Part 4

Or: The 5 Times Laxus Learned of a New Skill Freed Possessed, & The 1 Time He Fell Victim To Them

Summary: For the rest of the world, it had been seven years. For the members of Fairy Tail it had all been in the blink of an eye. But, for Laxus, that was more than enough time for his closest friend to seem like an entirely new person. This self assured, competent Freed was something new to Laxus, and he found himself enjoying it. Perhaps a little too much… Note: Laxus' feelings have started to grow, so it’s horny time. This has some sexual content, so only read if you want it. Links: Ao3, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

4: DIY

Freed had his shirt off, and he was sweating. Wonderful.

Laxus' growing attraction to Freed had been a slow and steady thing. Freed, since Laxus had returned to the guild, had proven himself to be more open with himself, less willing to hide his emotions and smother his smiles. His openness had allowed him to be more himself than he ever had been before, which was why Laxus had been privy to the slew of talents Freed apparently had.

That had all been fine. He'd always had a competency kink - not his preferred phrasing, but it was true nonetheless - and Freed was showing himself to be more and more competent by the day. And yes, he was handsome, but that wasn't new. This weird little crush Laxus had been harbouring was going to die away eventually.

Except Freed was shirtless and sweating, and in their bed.

What the hell was Laxus meant to do with that? Intellectually, he was aware Freed had a good body. His job required athleticism, and if his dancing abilities were anything to go by, he was incredibly fit. But knowing something and seeing something first hand was entirely different.

The damn man was shredded. He had abs that looked to be cut from steel, yet not with the same bulk that Laxus had. Freed's muscles were well defined, but housed in a perfectly slight body; like he wasn't intending to have a killer six pack, and yet he'd ended up with one anyway. His pecs were firm, yet not overly pronounced, and his nipples small yet demanding of attention. His hip bones were sharp and led temptingly downwards.

For a moment - one mad, ridiculous, lousy moment - Laxus considered dropping to his knees. Just for a second. Just to see what happened. Just to look up at Freed as he unbuttoned his fly and pulled out his-

The asshole was drinking, too. Cold looking water that dripped down his jaw and down his throat. Because, evidently, he wanted to kill Laxus.

"Hey," Laxus found himself saying. It was for the best, better than being found staring anyway. "You working out here now or something?"

Freed lowered his water bottle, frowning for a moment. Then he looked down himself and chuckled. "I've decided to be somewhat more proactive about our living situation."

Laxus wanted to say that if shirtless Freed was staying around, their living situation had been improved considerably, but he didn't. Instead, he said "By covering the sheets in your sweat?"

"It's my turn with the bed, and I'll wash them before you use them," Freed dismissed, standing up and walking past Laxus. He glowed in the light, and Laxus watched him go. Dear god, his back was perfect. There was a lack of scratches, but Laxus would amend that if given the chance. He shook the thought away, adjusted the slightly growing bulge between his legs, and followed Freed as he started up talking again. "I'm sick of the radiator not turning off, so I decided I would fix it myself. Once that was done, I was in the mind to fix other things, so I've spent the afternoon working around the house."

Laxus glanced around. He should have noticed before, really, but there were many little differences. The table and chairs were all now even legged, there were shelves screwed into the wall over the kitchen counters, and the door had opened easier and without a squeak.

Another thing Freed was good at, then. Wonderful. Another thing for Laxus to digest and obsess over when his mind wondered. He certainly had been lacking in that for the past few months of living with him…

"Wow," Laxus mused, then frowned. "If you fixed the radiator, why's it so hot in here?"

"Oh, after I fixed it, it got considerably worse. Hence, this," he gestured to his sweating, rippling torso. Was he flexing, or did his abs just look like that? "Turns out, I'm not too good with radiators. I'm terribly good at handling wood, though, so it balances out."

He must have known the innuendo he just said. He must have!

"So we live in a sauna now?"

"No. I've contacted the landlord."

"That didn't work before."

"Yes, well, this time I threatened him. He's coming tomorrow."

"You threatened him?"

"With castration."

"Freed!"

"Blunt force, using a hammer, to be specific," Freed hefted a hammer and ran his finger against the nail removing end. His grin was twisted, and Laxus gaped at him. "Calm down. I almost definitely wouldn't do anything."

"I'm not liking the almost there," Laxus grumbled.

Freed laughed, and Laxus all but groaned. There must have been something wrong with him, because finding a man threatening another man with brutal castration should not have been anything close to a turn on. Yet, for the second time, Laxus found himself shifting his stance so there was nothing conspicuous happening below the belt.

He watched as Freed crouched down, fiddling with a mess of wood which, upon further inspection looked to be a half built coffee table, upturned and unvarnished. Laxus had been complaining about not having anywhere to place his mugs and rest his feet. Now, Freed was making one for him.

The urge came back. Not to kneel, this time, but to haul him up and push him against a wall.

God fucking dammit. This was ridiculous.

But not ridiculous enough, apparently, because as Laxus found himself unable to look away from Freed - who had picked up a saw now, which made his shoulder blades shift and his biceps flex unfairly - Cana walked in. How she had even found out where they were living, Laxus didn't know.

"Hey man, your grandpa said he wants to-" she cut herself off, watching the room for a moment, then turning to Laxus, then bursting into laughter.

Both Laxus and Freed turned to her. Laxus had so much venom in his gaze that anyone with any sense of self preservation would run for the hills, but Cana didn't seem even remotely affected. Freed, in turn, had narrowed his eyes slightly and was staring her down.

"Is that at my expense?" He asked, calm but threatening.

"Nah man, it's at the blonde's."

"Very well, continue," Freed hummed, then turned back to his work.

Cana beamed, looked back to Laxus, then burst out laughing again. Laxus grabbed her by the arm, yanked her out of the apartment, and slammed the door closed behind them. Cana's laughter got even louder, and seemed never ending. Eventually Laxus got sick of hearing it, and sent a small shock into her elbow, which cut off her laughter and she glared at him.

"Was that necessary?"

"Was the laughing necessary?"

"Oh yeah, totally," She grinned, nudging him. "Come on, you'd laugh if it weren't happening to you."

"Oh shut up," He snapped.

Of course, this was his own fault. Everyone knew you didn't drink to the same levels as Cana and get away unscathed. Laxus had been feeling cocky and matched her drink for drink, and ended up spilling everything that was going on with his weird growing feelings towards Freed. During the conversation, he realised he'd found Freed hot for the last few years, but hadn't let himself come to terms with it. He stupidly voiced that, and Cana hadn't let it go.

To her credit, she hadn't told a soul. Previously that had gotten her a lot of respect in Laxus' mind, but all of that went away when she spoke again. "You literally walked into a porno situation with the guy you wanna fuck! That's funny!"

"No it's not."

"Trust me, it is," she laughed. "You gonna do it? Get his sword in your scabbard?"

"Tell me what you want and then leave."

"Oh, you wanna fill your scabbard without waiting then," she cackled at her own joke. Lightning flickered off Laxus' skin. "Fine. Your grandad wants to see you tomorrow, something about mission logs. I didn't really listen."

"Great. Leave."

"Sure," She shrugged, then patted him on the shoulder. "Enjoy the cold shower, dude."

"Get out," Laxus growled. Cana did as she was told.

Laxus faced the door to his apartment for a moment, then opened it and forced himself to go in. Cana was an ass, but she was right about one thing. A cold shower was the right thing to do. He made sure not to look in Freed's direction - who knew what he would be doing now - and flippantly said that he was going to take a shower while it was vacant. He almost got through it unscathed, if it weren't for the words that followed.

"Okay, I'll have one after you."

Of course, a torrent of images struck Laxus' suddenly overactive imagination. Freed, naked and lathering himself up under the spray of the shower they shared. Would his cock plump up? Would he tug and rub at it? Would he brace himself against the tiles the same way Laxus did?

His hand hovered over the temperature dial of the shower. He should turn it all the way down, freeze off the horny daze and have done with it. That was the right thing to do.

He didn't. He left it at the steaming temperature, stripped off, grabbed his hard, hefty cock and switched on the shower. Indulging in a fantasy where Freed joined him, controlling and strong and wonderful, he start to pump his cock, eyes flittering shut with pleasure as arousal flooded him,

Fuck, this was a step too far, but as he imagined Freed on his knees, he didn't care.

[nametakensff]

Sneaky Bastard (s/teddie)

Had a sudden flash of a scenario in my mind out of the blue that triggered a 2.7k fic of kinky fucking with very little plot 😅

E/ddie has an allergic reaction to S/teve's feather pillows, unbeknownst to the younger man, and attempts to push S/teve over the edge with his sneezing while feigning innocence

~~~~~~

Content:

M/M, established relationship, anal sex, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie is turned on by his own sneezing, feather allergies, manual inducing, some spanking and a little bit of power play

NSFW from the get go so stuck under a read more!

Eddie groaned into the pillow he’d all but buried his face into, Steve thrusting masterfully up against his prostate in a punishing rhythm. He’d barely finished knocking on his boyfriend’s front door not 30 minutes earlier before Steve had yanked him through the door frame and stripped him down in record timing. It had been a little while since Eddie had bottomed out for Steve – not because he didn’t like it – in fact, he fucking loved it. But quite honestly, unless they were in a particularly patient enough mood to adequately prep (or a distinctively impatient one where prep went out the window altogether – oops), they were normally content sucking and stroking each other to orgasm.

Today was clearly not one of those days – Steve knew just what he wanted – had told Eddie in a rare authoritative and painfully arousing voice exactly what he was going to do to him, and Eddie had been like putty in his hands. Of course, he loved that Steve was normally so attendant and sugary sweet when they made love, even when things got kinky, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t an exhilarating treat when Steve took control. Eddie encouraged it, even. It felt good to be pushed around by King Steve (god help his subconscious for that one), and he met him with equally enthusiastic energy.

Once Steve had expertly eaten him out and fingered him into a shaking mess, he’d pulled Eddie up onto all fours and pushed into him with an impressive erection. Despite having felt the length and weight of the younger man’s cock in his palm and throat innumerable times before, it always shocked him just how big it felt sliding into him. It was the sweetest kind of agony. Steve would get fully seated and then give Eddie a minute or two to get adjusted, mercilessly massaging his ass and back as the metalhead panted underneath him.

When he finally begged Steve to fucking move already, the former jock had pistoned forward with perfect aim right up against his sweet spot, drawing a pleasured yelp out of him. His cock bobbed neglected between his legs, and he’d attempted to balance on one arm to jerk himself off with the other, but Steve had slapped his hand away and replaced it with his own. Eddie wasn’t gonna say no to that, jesus fucking christ.

And so, here he was, moaning and sighing and mumbling profanities and litanies of praise to Steve as he was utterly and thoroughly fucked. He’d long since slumped down onto his forearms, ass up in the air and face down. It probably wouldn’t hurt to join Steve for some push-ups every now and then, if only to maintain a sex position that required even a touch of athleticism, but he knew even as the thought grazed his mind he wouldn’t commit. Steve certainly didn’t seem to mind whether he held the perfect aesthetic arch for him, if the ceaseless thrusting that shook the bed frame beneath them was any indication. He knew Steve loved to hear to his voice and his filthy ramblings so he simply let whatever sounds pour out of him do as they would. He didn’t miss the way Steve’s cock twitched inside him when he let out a particularly ruined groan.

“Hehh!! Ehh’TSHHieww!! TSSH’ieww!! EH’GXT’shieww! Mmnn….”

 He was focusing on the obscene twin sounds of Steve’s balls slapping against his ass and the shlicking noise of Steve’s broad palm as it pulled at his cock, biting down on the tip of his tongue, when he felt a tickle buzzing in his sinuses. He barely had a second of recognition before he was gasping and sneezing into the pillow he’d nestled down into.

Ohh, but it felt good to sneeze, the fluttering sensation of it sending a new wave of goosebumps across his already sensitive skin. He clenched around Steve with each sneeze, temporarily slowing his rhythmic thrusting. He felt the cock in his ass throb, threatening imminent orgasm, heard the choked moan from his boyfriend, and he couldn’t help but smirk a little. He clenched around Steve again, this time on purpose, earning a quick smack on his ass. It was his to turn to groan.

“Bless you, baby. Fuck…”

Steve seemed to regain his composure, no longer at risk of shooting his load just yet. Just as well, Eddie thought. The buzzing in his sinuses seemed to linger, even after those intensely satisfying sneezes. He rubbed his nose against the pillow, but it didn’t help in the slightest.

“Thank you, angel. Got a snff tickle in my nose.”

Steve’s hips bucked involuntarily, particularly forcefully and pressing right up against his prostate. Eddie heard them both moan, his cock dripping a new surge of pre-cum against Steve’s tan fingers. He’d pressed his face deep into the pillow again. It was so soft and pliant, much softer than he remembered it being. It was almost as if…

It dawned on him in an instant. This was a feather down pillow. Not the polyester stuffed ones Steve had bought specifically for Eddie so they could actually sleep together in his bed without the long-haired man waking up to sinuses miserably swollen and stuffed up. Steve must have brought the feather ones back out after the last time he’d been here and forgotten to change them back. He’d been so desperate to fuck Eddie he probably wouldn’t have noticed if said dungeon master had grown a second head. Eddie grinned.

He would let Steve know about this little…situation in good time. For the moment, he was gonna fuck with Steve. Figuratively, of course – he was covered in the literal sense. He pressed his nose up against the pillow and inhaled as subtly as he could. It was just enough to amp the tickle back up to the point he would probably sneeze again soon. He fostered the itch as best he could, taking shallow breaths through his nostrils - an increasingly difficult affair between moans and the familiar sensation of his orgasm creeping up on him. Finally, he felt the tickle crest, and he plummeted over the edge with another allergic fit, so tickly he felt tears prickling at the corner of his scrunched up eyes.

“Ohh, Stevie, I n-nee’heed to sn-sneeze againnn…! HIG’tchieww!! Hah’EGXT’tsieww!! IGSHHH! HIHD’tchiewww!!”

He sprayed the pillow openly, rubbing his itchy pink nostrils against it for good measure when he was done. This second fit had felt just as good as the first, maybe more so. He was definitely going to come soon.

The same could be said about Steve, who shuddered from head to toe as Eddie bucked and strained beneath him. He’d held himself still inside Eddie at that verbal warning and steeled himself against the onslaught. Each sneeze squeezed him tight in the most exquisite way, and coupled with the desperate sounds of them, and the image of his boyfriend drenching his pillow in spray, he’d almost swooned with the pleasure.

“Fuuuck, Eddie-! Are you okay, baby?”

Steve started to thrust again almost immediately, doubling the efforts of his hand on Eddie’s throbbing cock – the older man knew this was an attempt to have him coming before Steve, who must be right on the edge following his latest outburst. Normally he would be happy to oblige and cum his brains out obediently, but right now he was having too much fun working Steve up.

“Bless me. I’m fine, honey, just have this insane little tickle all of a sudden. Probably gonna sneeze again soon.”

Steve’s hips stuttered again, as did his breathing. Eddie smirked. This was intoxicating. He loved being a tease, and for whatever reason concealing the source of his sneezing from Steve was amplifying the entire experience for him.

A sudden jolt of pleasure wracked him, and he moaned openly. Steve was stroking and pulling at his sensitive cock for all he was worth and hitting his prostate more often than not. If he wanted Steve to come before he did, he would have to work fast. He was intending to bury his face in the pillow again when he noticed the small quill of a feather sticking up out of the cover. Perfect.

He plucked the feather out as subtly as he was capable, admiring the small, fluffy object for a moment, heart leaping in his chest as he imagined how tickly the downy barbs would feel inside his nostril. He brought it to his nose and managed to ease it gently inside – no small feat when he was being jostled repeatedly under Steve’s dutiful ministrations – and started to tease.

It was a cute little feather, too small to properly reach the back of his nostril where it could really get him going. Luckily, he was already feeling sensitive enough that even the sensation of his finger nails at the rim of his nostril as he twisted the feather around was enough to leave his chest swelling with rhythmical hitching.

“Hh…HH!....HDDT-!...Hh-HH-“

“Are you – are you making yourself sneeze?”

Shit. Steve had slowed to a lazy pace, though Eddie could feel him twitch and twitch inside him – he was right on the fucking edge, the stubborn bastard. Delaying the inevitable. Eddie had been just about to sneeze, and that would have been it for Steve, he was sure. He paused, caught in the act, feather coming to a halt inside his flaring nostril. He feigned innocence, poorly.

“N-no? I’m just rubbing my nose-hh!! Like I said, I h’haave this tiiih-this tihh’HIH!!”

He’d stopped tickling himself, but the damage had been done. The fluffy feather, pressed up against the sensitive wall of his nostril, seemed to push him over the edge all at once, sending him sprawling helplessly forward as he sneezed against the pillow.

“HAHG’KTCH’ieww!! EDH’tsieww! Hah’IGCK’tchuu!! Ohh…”

The base of his cock started to tingle and he knew he was almost there. Steve cursed and started to thrust rapidly, obviously out of patience and desperate to come himself. Eddie cried out against the sudden increase of power, limbs electric and head swimming as Steve pounded into him for all he was worth.

“You’re a – terrible – liar – Munson-!” Steve gasped out as he pistoned his hips, burying himself to the hilt inside of Eddie. The slapping sounds of sex and their moans echoed throughout the room. Eddie bit down on the pillow, a low, gravelly groan escaping him. Steve was so fucking good, good at everything, knew just how to make him come hard and deep and fast. He focused on the dual pleasure in his ass and cock, welcoming his oncoming orgasm with open arms. He’d almost forgotten what he’d just been doing when Steve’s sudden request jerked him back to the present.

“Do it again-!”

Eddie nodded, moaning, out of it, hardly able to think but willing to do whatever Steve asked as long as he just kept going. He reached for the small feather, forcefully ejected onto the pillow in front of him with that last little fit, but it was pitifully drenched and entirely useless. He buried his face in the pillow instead, inhaling as deeply as he could. Like the embers of a dwindling campfire suddenly sparking back to life, the tickle reignited with such a force that his resulting gasp hung dramatically in the air. He pitched forward, helpless to stop it, and sneezed with all his might into the pillow.

“Hh-MMPTSCH’ieww!! MPTSCHH!! MMpFSH’ieww!! HAH-MPPPTSH’IEWW!!”

It was too much, as he knew it would be, and as he heard and felt Steve cry out his name in orgasm, his own climax shuddered through him, cock throbbing in pleasure as it coated Steve’s long fingers with a deluge of his cum.

They rocked together in this rare instance of simultaneous climax, shivering and moaning against each other. Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and pressed his face against his back, the extra weight forcing Eddie’s knees to buckle until they slid down onto the bed, Steve lying flush on top of him. Eddie could feel the sticky sheets bunched up against his stomach, but in that moment he couldn’t find the energy to care. He was too busy making his way back down to planet earth.

Eddie listened, eyes closed, as both of their breathing patterns returned to normal. As great as the full body skin-on-skin contact felt, Steve’s solid form was starting to weigh him down a little unbearably.

“Stevie?”

“Mrmm?” Steve rubbed his arm softly.

“Can’t breathe, hon.”

“Shit- sorry, one sec.”

Steve lifted himself up, strong arms bracing the sides of Eddie’s head as he attempted to withdraw himself from Eddie’s body as considerately as possible. He slid out at last, forcing a quiet hiss out of the older man. They’d used plenty of lube but Steve was still huge, and they hadn’t exactly been gentle in their fucking. Yep, he’d definitely be feeling this tomorrow.

Steve rolled next to him, landing with a gentle ‘oof’. Eddie heard the gentle snap of latex as Steve removed the condom and wiped his hands with a tissue. The former jock then reached out to brush a stray bang from Eddie’s face, said metalhead still planted firmly on his front, face turned to the side as he nestled into the pillow.

“Hey.” Steve smiled at him.

“Hey yourself, stud.” Eddie smiled back at him, feeling satisfied right down to his bones. Christ, that had been good. Eddie felt his eyelids starting to droop as he basked in his afterglow.

“You’re a sneaky bastard.” Steve said after a beat.

Eddie giggled, eyes closed, leaning into the hand that Steve cupped his cheek with. He’d happily accept the accusation, and he’d happily tease Steve as often as he pleased if it meant their sex was always this good.

“What did you use? To make yourself sneeze?”

Steve was cuddled up against his side now, pressing kisses to his bare shoulder.

“Feathers. More specifically, the pillow.”

He felt Steve pause mid-kiss to his shoulder blade.

“Shiiit, man, I’m sorry – I’ll go grab-“

“No, no, leave it. I mean, for now. It’s fine, baby. It’s not that bad. I don’t want to move yet.”

To prove his point, Eddie nestled further down into the pillow. It really was exquisitely comfortable, his allergies and those poor geese be damned. His nostrils twitched, but he ignored the sensation for the moment. Steve seemed to take his word for it and relaxed against him once more. His hand trailed down Eddie’s spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before settling on his ass, where it squeezed hard.

“Such an ass man.” Eddie snorted as Steve continued to grope him. He felt Steve’s grin against the skin of his shoulder.

“Well, maybe if you had more in way of the breast department…” The younger man teased. Eddie laughed.

“Dude, I barely have anything to work with in the ass department!”

“That’s not true!” Steve squeezed him again, followed by a gentle smack, as if to prove how much he had to work with. Eddie reached around Steve to take a handful of the younger man’s ass in his own hand. It almost made his mouth water.

“Maybe I don’t have the flattest ass in Hawkins, but I have nothing on this fucking wagon you’re draggin’, King Steve.”

“Don’t ever say that again, oh my god.”

Eddie smirked and groped harder, covering as much surface area as he could with one hand.

“Mmm. I could fucking live between these cheeks.”

“Please. Please stop.”

“I’m serious, dude. I’ll prove it to you. Promise.”

He started to slide a finger down Steve’s crack to tease at his hole, smiling against the crook of Steve’s neck as he hard him gasp in response.

“Better make good on that promise, Munson.”

Eddie kissed his neck, sucking at the skin lazily.

“If that’s what you want, big boy. Maybe I’ll need to sneeze while I’m inside of you. You know how these pillows get to me.” He purred against the column of Steve’s throat, feeling his racing heartbeat against his lips.

That had been the final straw. Steve used one strong arm to flip Eddie onto his back, the older man grimacing slightly as the sheets, tacky with the result of his own orgasm, peeled away from his stomach. Steve, not noticing or not caring, straddled his hips and took both of their budding erections into his hand.

“Fuck me, baby. Finish what you fucking started.”

Eddie shivered, cock pulsing against Steve’s fingers.

“Oh, yeah.”

[killa-trav]

Meet Lando Norris, the woke, feminist face of Formula One

The 23-year-old McLaren driver is equally happy driving at more than 200mph or talking about his feelings. Sathnam Sanghera meets the new poster boy for petrolheads

Let’s face it, in the Eighties and Nineties, when I was getting into the sport, a certain kind of man was attracted to driving Formula One cars. Habitually egotistical, frequently misogynistic, oblivious to the environmental consequences of driving a high-powered car in circles for the sake of it, this unreconstructed male would also, with some 52 drivers losing their lives over the years, have something of a death wish. No one demonstrates how much things have changed than the McLaren F1 team’s current lead driver, 23-year-old Lando Norris.

Having recently broken up with the model Luisinha Oliveira, the Brit is a red-blooded young man who tells me with a certain amount of excitement that he’s the driver with the highest rating among female F1 fans, but when asked about the absence of women F1 drivers, he doesn’t, as Jenson Button once did, say that mechanics wouldn’t be able to concentrate near the presence of “boobs”. Instead, he launches into an earnest explanation of how things can and should change. Followed by a list of the ways he and McLaren try to make up for the environmentally unfriendly nature of racing cars.

When it comes to the death wish, Norris admits that his Belgian mother “hates” watching him race because of the risks involved, but safety has improved so much that survival is only an occasional anxiety for him. And as for the hard living, there’s a plastic tub on the table between us informing me that the only thing that has passed his lips this morning is porridge.

“Everything looks easy from the outside,” he says, launching into an explanation of the self-discipline and athleticism required to pilot modern F1 cars. “People don’t realise how physical it is, the G-force side of it. You’re not far off what they do in jet fighters. You then have two-hour races, racing in, you know, Singapore, where it’s 35C, extremely humid, you’re in a cockpit where you don’t get a lot of air flow, so it gets up to 50C inside the car and you can easily lose three, four kilos in some races. It’s one of the most physical sports you can do. And then there’s the mental side of it: if you’re racing in Monaco, one mistake and you’re out pretty much straight away.”

Sitting in a private box at the London Stadium, the site of a Major League Baseball game this weekend and a collaboration event between the baseball players and McLaren today, he tells me about the endurance, cardio and heat-chamber training involved; the difficulty of strengthening neck muscles, essential to withstanding extreme G-forces. Frankly, I can’t imagine him undergoing any of it. It’s partly that he’s just so wilfully unmacho — the single gentlest sportsperson I’ve ever met. It’s also that, at 10st 7lb and 5ft 9in, and looking even younger than his 23 years, he resembles a boy-band member rather than an automotive gladiator. Which probably explains the female fan base.

Make no mistake, though, that Norris is ferocious on the track, frequently out-racing people who almost have more years of F1 experience than he has experience of existence. His once mighty team, McLaren, 60-years old this year, has not delivered the best car this season, but recent upgrades allowed him to attain fifth position, and widespread praise, at this month’s Austrian Grand Prix. And he has been recognised for consistently getting the best out of his cars from his earliest days, beginning racing at the age of just 7 and winning several junior titles before being named McLaren’s test and reserve driver at the age of 17.

He was quickly promoted, his performances eventually making his team-mate Daniel Ricciardo look average, with McLaren replacing him with fellow Australian Oscar Piastri at the end of the 2022 season. Meanwhile, two-time world champion Mika Hakkinen has claimed that Norris is “on the same level” as reigning F1 champion Max Verstappen.

As a reflection of the esteem in which he is held, Norris recently agreed a contract extension with McLaren, which, according to one motorsport magazine, makes him the fourth best-paid driver in F1. When I cite the reported annual salary of about £19.4 million, he concedes it’s “in that ballpark”. An extraordinary amount of money — if you were not already the son of one of the richest men in Britain, of course. Norris got into motor racing with the backing of his 51-year-old father, Adam, whose wealth is estimated in excess of £200 million, mainly from his involvement in the investment platform Hargreaves Lansdown. As a result, asking how money has changed his life is not a particularly fruitful line of questioning. What does he spend it on? On experiences with his friends, “creating memories”. Has he splashed out? He can’t think of anything, but then his company car is a McLaren supercar and he travels the planet in luxury for work anyway.

Nevertheless, his rise raises a perennial anxiety for the sport. Can you make it in F1 without being born into money? Norris, who attended Millfield School in Somerset but didn’t do his GCSEs due to already intense motorsport commitments, is characteristically unprickly on the theme. “It’s 100 per cent very, very clear for anyone”, he says, to see that his dad financed his entry into F1. But he insists, “You have to have talent to make it. You’ll never get to Formula One now if you’re a bad driver. I was lucky I didn’t have to find too many sponsors and my dad could support me all the way to F1, but I couldn’t deal with being a pay driver in F1. I think it’s the wrong thing to do, completely.”

By “pay driver”, Norris is referring to the rich young men who occasionally buy a seat in the sport, usually in the form of sponsorship, Russia’s Nikita Mazepin being a recent example at Haas. “There’s no other sport in the world where you can pay just to be in it. It shouldn’t happen in Formula One. But it’s also one of the most expensive sports to get into — you can’t just pick up a go-kart like you can pick up a football or a racket or baseball bat.”

I ask how he thinks his generation of drivers differs from the old guard, and he cites a bunch of factors I’ve not considered. Not least that his generation has grown up practising on the high-tech simulators now used by all F1 teams, and playing computer games for fun. Such games were one of the things that brought Norris to prominence in 2020, when his internet broadcasting of game-playing became popular with motorsport fans deprived of racing. He has since founded his own esports firm, Quadrant. But does playing car games on consoles actually help develop real-life skills? “I don’t think it hurts. But they’re not even games; they’re simulators.” They’re that good? “Yes, certain ones. You’re racing actual people around the world who are very talented, racing other F1 drivers. You’re learning all sorts of race craft, the set-up, handling, car control.”

Growing up with social media is another difference that he cites. It brings up the mental-health struggles Norris has talked about suffering since entering F1, where the pressure can be extreme. But it sounds as if it’s something he has, for now, worked out how to navigate. He has removed Twitter from his phone, but more to stop himself wasting time than because of abuse. “Every person, every sport, people love you and people hate you. Of course, I’d prefer if people loved me. But I just laugh at it more than anything [now]. It affected me a lot more back in, like, 2019, 2020, because I took it all more personally.”

Why was that? “I was just starting out and wanted everyone to like me more.”

This more relaxed attitude is also in evidence in his approach to Netflix’s blockbuster show Drive to Survive, which he has criticised in the past for faking tension with his former team-mate Carlos Sainz, but which he now accepts as entertainment. “Some things get twisted a little bit, but at the same time I realise it’s a show.”

Norris stretches in a way that indicates tiredness, and it’s entirely understandable. I’m knackered from my journey from north to east London, but he finds himself in the capital after three days of travel that have taken in Canada, Cannes and McLaren HQ’s in Surrey. F1 is an exhausting line of work. And the circus is often surreal. Through a window behind him, a McLaren car can be seen being wheeled onto the pitch for the photoshoot: a slice of F1 in West Ham’s football stadium, which has been converted to a baseball diamond for the weekend (and hosted the athletics at the 2012 Olympics). I ask if he’s a football fan. “I used to be.” I know the feeling, I say, wanting to disown Wolverhampton Wanderers when they disappoint. His team? “England.”

It takes a moment to realise this is a sardonic reference to another instance of unwanted attention, in the form of the mugging he suffered in July 2021. As widely reported, an unidentified man held Norris in a headlock while another yanked a £144,000 Richard Mille watch off his wrist. The timepiece was one of just five in existence. It happened at Wembley Stadium as he made his way to his sports car following England’s loss to Italy in the final of Euro 2020. In a remark that some might consider strange given Norris sometimes drives at walls at nearly 200mph, he says, “I didn’t realise how quickly things can go completely… scary.”

Did it change the way he feels about going out and about?

“I don’t wear watches any more.”

He means socially: today he is wearing, for sponsorship reasons, another example of the same watch. “It has changed my perspective. There are still times when I get a bit nervous about things, when I’m with my friends.”

The admission of vulnerability is yet another refreshing thing about Norris, but not altogether surprising if you’ve ever heard him talking to his team over the radio during races. He is intensely self-critical. What is he like with failure? Does he let it overwhelm him? “I would say I do, quite often, but it’s really the biggest drive.”

Lots of athletes use failure to motivate themselves, but it can become destructive.

“It’s the main thing I use. I’ve learnt to beat myself up less, but I’m definitely my biggest critic — I mean, I’m the one who knows what I can do and what I can’t do.”

When it comes to the possibilities of achievement, during a season where McLaren has disappointed, currently standing at sixth out of ten teams, below the middle-ranking Alpine, Norris is optimistic. He believes in the team’s aggressive development plan, which has seen it bring car upgrades to recent races. “I probably have the most faith I’ve had in a while.”

Nevertheless, disappointment is a running theme in our conversation. When I ask about the key to surviving success, he responds with, “I’ve not had much success.” I remind him he has had a disproportionate amount of success for his age. “True. But then again, it’s relative to what I’m actually trying to achieve. Success is winning races, winning championships, and I’ve not got anywhere close to doing that.”

When I ask if he feels like he’s following in the footsteps of Lewis Hamilton, given Hamilton also started off at McLaren, he dismisses the comparison as grandiose. “Life’s not fair in Formula One, because things can go up and down completely out of your control as a driver. So it doesn’t matter if you’re the best driver in the world, if you’re in the wrong team, you’re not going to win. You’re not even going to look good.”

Before departing, I ask Norris how he feels about certain descriptions that are frequently applied to him in press coverage.

“Handsome”? “[That comes from] the female audience,” he blushes.

A “fair loser”? “I admit when I’ve done things wrong. I’m the last guy you’ll ever see blame someone else over myself when something happens.”

“Nice”? There are some drivers who would hate the description, being keen to cultivate a fearsome air both on and off the track. “I’m happy with it. As much as I do care about what people think of me, I want to be seen in a good way rather than not. But just because I’m nice in person doesn’t mean it’s the same on the track.”

Finally, “shy”. It’s shyness that has been apparent throughout our meeting, not least when I ask him to give me a demonstration of his Flemish and he can’t bring himself to do it, even though I’d have no idea if it was good or bad. “I’m just an introvert.”

When did he realise he was an introvert?

“When I was, like, six. I’m not great with crowds and all that kind of thing.”

So how does he handle the intense attention from crowds of fans at races?

“You kind of get used to it. I’m not the biggest fan when they grab you, you know?”

How does he cope with the long days of being on camera?

“Alone time — when it’s just me playing games or going for a walk, listening to music.”

Not for the first time, I want to give Norris an avuncular hug. The feeling intensifies after I inquire what advice he would give to his teenage self. When I normally ask people this question they have to think back decades, but Norris only has to recall life before the pandemic. “Be yourself as much as possible: don’t try to pretend to be a Formula One driver.”

Was there a time when he tried to fit himself into those expectations?

“You feel like there’s a persona, of looking like a superstar, and that just doesn’t need to happen. I can have my laughs and my giggles and, you know, sometimes I just drive a car. Simple as that.”

BY SATHNAM SANGHERA FOR THE TIMES

[jamethinks]

Was debating what sport should Anya play. It’s probably gonna be like softball because JAPAN but I was planning on incorporating it into my WIP somehow. Although it isn’t a future fic the sport I chose should be something that can aid her in her work as a spy and it will affect her approach. Evidently, Anya would take a mix of primarily Twilight and Yor (and within the context of my WIP Handler), so I had to consider them in this.

I spoke on this a bit in a previous post but Twilight has a more defense approach to combat and his work as a spy requires a more intellectual and analytical approach. Yor is far more offensive as her job rarely requires caution, she just needs to kill and get out. Naturally, any sport (or extra curricular activities) will have to help promote these skills. Currently, I have Yor doing track and field and shot put as they are very physically demanding sports and a most independent sports. For Twilight, I had a hard time coming up with a sport because while he is athletic it isn’t his focus, in the end I settled on cricket since it does require athleticism but more importantly it requires patience, discipline and collaboration. Outside of that I had him doing more stuff like chess or archery (great for concentration and accuracy)

Now back to Anya. Anya in the story is portrayed as small and weak and not particularly good at any sport. She is also very short (her parents aren’t that tall either, also they’re not blood related). Since I do want her to be a spy I do want to learn more into cricket, chess and archery like Loid but she is still supposed to take some skills from Yor but her sports require so much natural strength it’s hard to see her doing them. I also considered gymnastics since it would give her a very distinct fighting style but she notoriously clumsy and I don’t want to take that from her. I already had a storyline planned for her with chess and Demetrius so she’s gonna have to learn math womp womp. I did think cricket/baseball/softball as a pitcher because of that one scene during the cruise arc where she threw a spear to her mom. It was a bad throw but it would be interesting if that was her main tactic like Zeke from AOT.

My knowledge of sports are very limited and I don’t want her doing any sissy rich people sports so horse back and lacrosse are out of the running. The chess will be important because it will be her main defense against Donovan in the future and also a good way to force her to think w/o her powers. But I need her on a team sport so maybe football idk