#crying while writing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jellieland · 1 year

Text

A week or two after the games, Grian will usually check in with the victor.

It's a habit that's probably more for his own benefit than anyone else's. But it is, he thinks, a good habit nonetheless.

After all, as fun as it all is, things can get a bit... intense, towards the end, and it's good for his peace of mind to make sure the last one standing is ok with how things shook out.

Nothing much has ever really come of it before; they're all pretty resilient. He doubts this time’ll be different. Except- well.

Something about it all itches at the back of his mind, and he hasn’t been able to work out why. There was the actual ending, of course, but also Grian may have been whispering in Martyn's ear about how boring that final showdown was turning out to be, and how narratively satisfying it would be if he just betrayed the other two and got it over with, so.

If nothing else, it feels like he's got no reason to break with tradition.

There's just one more concern.

Martyn seems to have made it almost impossible to contact him.

It's not... unheard of, for players to keep to themselves most of the time, especially when it comes to those they don’t share a server with. It seems a little uncharacteristic of Martyn, but the last time Grian saw him outside the games was before they even started, so maybe he does things differently these days.

There are certainly a great many reasons why that could be the case, most of which are perfectly sensible.

But Grian's never been able to resist picking at a puzzle put in front of him, whether the puzzle likes it or not, so he is going to talk to Martyn. And he can just see what happens, and worry about any consequences if and when they appear.

Luckily, he already has a way to do just that.

He doesn't usually need to do this - although it is very funny to startle Scar or Mumbo with it sometimes when they're concentrating. Honestly it's usually less effective than communicators, with how much effort it takes.

But he does have a way. The same way he used to whisper in Martyn's ear very recently, in fact.

He reaches out, away from his home, away from his body, and it feels a little like simultaneously overextending himself, and putting his foot down on a step he thought was flat ground.

That is... not how this usually feels.

It's odd. Rather unnerving.

But it works.

He finds Martyn. Watches the vague shape of him solidify into something more real.

He’s still wearing his red life outfit, for some reason. His eyes are closed. Around his head, the coral curls like a blood-red crown.

“What do you think you're playing at?” Asks Grian.

Martyn blinks his eyes open slowly, looking less confused than Grian would expect for someone hearing a disembodied voice out of nowhere. “Oh good.” He says dryly. “You again.”

He squawks indignantly. “Hey, what's that supposed to mean?”

There is silence for a few seconds.

“...Hey.” Martyn says, and as flippant as he suddenly sounds, he looks as thrown off balance as Grian feels. “Not sure who this is, but I think you might have the wrong number!”

“I think that's unlikely.” He deadpans. “Where are you? I haven't been able to get hold of you.”

“Uh-” There's a short pause as he looks around at wherever he is right now. “Falling into endless nothingness, looks like. Same old, same old, am I right?”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ok. Well, I suppose you don't have to tell me.” A part of him makes a note of Martyn’s wording, though. Just in case.

“...Hm. Well, not gonna lie, I do appreciate the change of pace, but I would love to know what exactly you want from me. You know, just on the off chance that you feel like giving me any clues.”

It's at this point that Grian remembers: one of the main reasons this method of communication is good for messing with people is that it makes him sound, um. A little different. And while he can see Martyn, it’s not as if Martyn can see him.

...Best to just pretend that hadn't slipped his mind.

“You do realize this is Grian, right?” He asks, as though it ought to be obvious.

“Riiight, yeah, sure.” Says Martyn. “And I'm also Grian, did you know that?”

“Oh for- what, do you want me to tell you some secret only the two of us would know, or something?”

“Nah.” Says Martyn. “That wouldn't work.”

“Elaborate.” Says Grian, through gritted teeth.

“You know what? I don't think I will!” Replies Martyn brightly.

Grian takes a deep breath in through his nose. “I'm beginning to wonder why I bother.” He grinds out.

Martyn snorts. “Tell me about it.”

There's a short silence.

“But- ok.” He continues. “Just suppose for the sake of argument that you are Grian.”

“...Yes?” Asks Grian warily.

“I have a question for you.”

“...Yeeees?” Asks Grian, even more warily.

The silence stretches for several long moments.

“What's up?” Asks Martyn.

“Yeah ok, this isn’t worth it, I'm leaving now.”

“Wait! No, I'm serious!” Under the amusement, there's a note of something that sounds almost like nervousness in his voice. It's uncharacteristic. Unnerving.

“What are you talking about?” Asks Grian, trying very hard to keep his voice at least mostly free of annoyance.

“Oh, you know! What's going on, what's the deal, what'd you want to talk to me for?” There's a slight hesitation. “You need help or something?”

“I- ok. That's actually sort of relevant. It's really nothing too complicated, Martyn.” He says, grumpily. “All I wanted to do was make sure you're good with what happened at the end of the last game.”

Martyn blinks, and goes very still.

There is a long silence - long enough that Grian starts to feel concerned.

And then Martyn laughs.

It's not a nice laugh.

“Good, huh. You want to know if I’m good with it. That sure is an interesting choice of words.”

“...How so?” He asks, guardedly.

“Grian. Grian, I’m not sure if you remember this, but I won. I won this one, Grian.” Every word he says, however restrained, sounds like it’s had to claw its way out of him. He glares at nothing. “And guess what? It's just like the others. I don’t really care enough for any of it to matter to me, anymore, and that's fine by me.”

Now that's... a lot to unpack. “You- I'm sorry?”

“Well that makes one of us then, doesn't it?” His voice is coated with scorn.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you actually think I’m going to explain myself to you?” He asks, looking half-amused. “You, of all people?”

“Well unfortunately, Martyn, I can’t exactly put Ren on the line, so I’m afraid I’m all you’re going to get.” He snaps, and instantly regrets it when he sees the look in Martyn’s eyes.

There is a short silence.

Grian shifts uncomfortably. He’s not going to apologize, obviously. But. Well. “That... ok, maybe that was a bit much.” He says.

“...Little bit, yeah.”

There is another silence.

After a while, Martyn speaks.

“I would’ve betrayed him too, you know.” He says coolly.

“What, Ren?”

“Yeah. At the drop of a hat. Soon as it was convenient.”

“I mean sure, I suppose?” Says Grian, caught off guard. “You didn’t, though. Did you? When you had the chance.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, as though that’s an irrelevant detail. “It would’ve been more dramatic later. You know how it is.”

...There's no real way he can justify saying no to that, is there? “Yeah.” He says. “I guess I do.”

He tries to picture the King, betrayed. The Hand, triumphant.

“I dunno, though.” He says, thoughtful. “I don’t think you ever could’ve done it, to be honest. Not in the first one. Whatever it was you were planning, it was just never how that story was going to go.”

“That’s not true.” He says it just slightly too fast. “I know that’s not true.”

Grian scoffs. “You know thinking about something isn’t the same as doing it, right?”

“What, no, really?” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t say!”

“What I’m saying,” He lets his voice turn biting, “Is that you’re being stupid.”

Martyn lets out a startled laugh. It’s surprisingly genuine. “Wow. You’re really bad at this, dude.”

Grian bristles. “Well why am I the one who has to do it then? Why don’t you talk to someone else, if you hate talking to me so much?”

“I mean…” He makes an unconvinced noise. “Obvious problems aside, when do you even expect me to do that? We usually have other things to worry about.”

“I don’t know, maybe at literally any point between the games?” He sighs exasperatedly. “There’s no way you’re that busy.”

“Between the games?” Martyn asks incredulously, and Grian suddenly feels as though something dangerous is hovering over their heads, just about to drop. “What do you mean, between the games?”

“I mean between the games! Like- now! What do you think this is, right now, if it’s not between the games?” He snaps.

“This right now?” He looks nonplussed. “I think we’re usually asleep for most of this bit. Or possibly we forget about it. As you can probably imagine, it’s hard to know for sure.”

“Now I know that’s not true.” He says firmly, ignoring the unease trying to creep up on him. “I know I do stuff between games, and I know I don’t just forget about it. That makes no sense.”

“I mean, I don't necessarily mean everything between the games, more just this specifically.” He gestures around at nothing. “That gets more complicated, though. But you- hm.” He looks curious. “That’s interesting. Where even are you, then, at the moment?”

“I’m at home! Which is where I thought everyone else was too!”

Martyn seems to consider this for a few moments, and then he frowns, and then his expression goes blank. “…Oh.” He says. “Yeah. No, that… makes sense, actually. Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Wha- what do you mean? Right about what?”

“Everyone probably went home. Or, at least, they thought they did. And hey, what’s the difference, when you get right down to it?”

“...Ok, I’m going to ignore the second part for now, I already got past that little existential crisis after Ren and Doc’s whole… thing… in season eight- if you think everyone went home, why are you- what was it you said- ‘falling into endless nothingness’?”

There’s another pause.

“...You’re really gonna make me say it, huh? That seems cruel, even for you.”

“Wait, no, what do you-”

“Where else do you think I would go?” It sounds less like an admission and more like an accusation. “What ‘home’ do you think I have left, Grian?”

“Look.” Snaps Grian, feeling vaguely tricked. “It’s not my fault that you-”

“Yeah, it never is, is it?” He glares into the darkness. “It’s always a tragic inevitability with you, never a choice you’re making. That way you get to stab people in the back and pretend to be sad about it. Best of both worlds, huh?”

Grian splutters for a few seconds. “Why are you being so rude to me??”

“Because you’re you and I’m me.” He smirks. “Don’t know what you expected, honestly.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s hiding behind inevitability now?” Grian retorts, perhaps a trifle vindictively.

“I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite, sometimes. Also, I never said I felt bad about it.” He replies levelly, and all at once, they’re talking about something else.

“You didn’t need to say it.” Snaps Grian. “You might be good at lying but you’re not perfect. I could see in your face that it hurt.”

He narrows his eyes. “It felt good, actually.”

“Wow, good for you.” He says, almost amused suddenly. “You didn’t say I was wrong, though.”

His expression twists into something unreadable. “I know you, Grian. Like recognizes like.” He says, voice low and dangerous. “You’re a liar.”

Grian shrugs, despite the fact that Martyn will not see it. “And you’re a coward. Your point?”

“I don’t need to justify myself to someone who refuses to admit that he could have chosen to be better, if he’d ever wanted to.” He spits out.

“Hey, at least I don’t try and convince myself I’m a monster just because I want to survive.”

That one strikes something tender; he can tell. “Right, yeah, and you’re just a blameless angel and everyone you cut down had it coming, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t say that. But since you bring it up… how many people did you give up your time for, again?” He grins. “Is it less than one? Because I think it is. I think I’ve got you beat there, Martyn.”

“And where did it get you?” He snarls.

“Home, in the end.”

Martyn flinches back as though he’s been struck.

“Did you forget about that part?” Asks Grian.

There’s a long pause.

Martyn fidgets with the end of the banner he wears around his waist, pulling at where the white threads are coming undone. He stares out into the darkness. “Yeah.” He says. “I guess I did.”

The satisfaction of winning the argument feels less potent, suddenly.

“You’re right.” Says Grian, after a while. “I’m really bad at this.”

Martyn laughs quietly. “To be fair, I’m not exactly helping.”

“You’re really not.”

He sighs. “You know pulling the knife out just makes the wound start bleeding again, don’t you? That’s all we’re doing here. That’s all we’re going to do to each other. We’re too alike to do anything else, unless we just don’t do anything. And hey, we’re not great at that either.”

“Hmm.” Says Grian begrudgingly. “I’d say something about inevitability again, but I honestly don’t think you’re wrong.”

“We both just enjoy pushing buttons too much to be particularly good at not pushing them, I guess.” Martyn sounds half-amused, half-resigned.

Grian makes an irritated noise. “Yes, alright, I don’t need another reminder of the whole button debacle.”

There is more silence.

After a while, Grian speaks again. “There’s something I was wondering about, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Martyn raises an eyebrow.

“What’s the reason?” He asks.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific with that one, mate.”

“‘This is a death match for a reason.’” He says matter-of-factly. “That’s what you said. So- what is it? What’s the reason?”

Martyn blinks, then lets out a short, harsh laugh. “You think I know that?”

“No, not really. That’s why I wondered what you meant when you said it.”

“It- look. I don’t know if you’re expecting philosophy from me, or something. It’s a death game. People die, and it doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to be special, it doesn’t have to be honourable, it doesn’t have to be fair. That’s what I meant.” He frowns. “You know that.”

“I do.” He admits.

“Then why ask?” Martyn looks around as though this time, somehow, he might be able to find Grian’s face in the dark.

He doesn’t.

“I just-” Grian sighs. “What do you want?” He asks. “What do you actually want, Martyn?”

The question sits heavy in the darkness between them.

“What do you want me to say?” Martyn asks. He sounds more tired than Grian’s ever heard him.

“I want you to tell the truth.” Grian says. He needs to know. He needs to know.

“Now, Grian.” Says Martyn, voice gently chiding. “Have you met me? You know I can’t do that.”

“Pretend it’s a lie, then.”

Martyn’s grip on the banner he wears tightens, slightly. There is a long, long silence.

“Or how about,” Says Grian, eventually, “You say something, and I won’t know whether it’s a lie or not.”

There is another pause.

Martyn frowns at the red of the fabric in his hands, as though it might offer him something.

As far as Grian can tell, it does not.

He’s just beginning to give up hope of ever getting an answer when Martyn speaks, so softly he almost doesn’t hear it.

“I want it to be warm again.” He says.

It’s quiet.

For a moment – just a moment, no more – Grian remembers bloody, aching fists. He remembers burning heat.

“Well.” He says. “That makes one of us, then. Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Says Martyn, voice low. “I guess it does.”

There’s another short second of silence before Martyn speaks again, sounding cheerful. “So, suppose I’ll see you in the next one, huh? If that ever happens.” He grins. “Wanna take bets on how hard Scott’ll have to try not to win it? I’m gonna go with very.”

Grian snorts. “I’m not taking that bet. That man is infuriatingly good at surviving.”

“You’re not wrong! You are not wrong.” He gestures into the void. “And don’t even get me started on Timmy’s whole thing, I think we both know how that one’s gonna go. Unless you want to bet against him being gone first next time round?”

“You’re not Scar.” Says Grian. “There’s no way you talk anyone into taking that bet in a million years. Except maybe Timmy.”

“Fair, fair.”

There’s a short pause.

Grian hesitates for a moment before he speaks – almost, but not quite, reluctant. “Why do you keep looking back?” He asks. “There’s nothing left for us there. You know that, right?”

“I mean, let me know when you find a better place to look.” He tilts his head to the side slightly, curious, and frowns. “Do you really never want to go back?”

“No.” Says Grian. “Never.”

Martyn opens his mouth, and then, uncharacteristically, closes it again. “Yeah.” He says. “Me neither.”

Grian is tempted, momentarily, to tell Martyn to take the banner off and let it go. Let the darkness take it. Prove it.

But just like Martyn, he lets it drop.

Mutually assured destruction is a potent thing.

Now all he has to do is the hard part. The part he’s dreading most of all.

The main concern is phrasing it correctly. Making it sound just how he wants it to sound.

After some thought, he thinks he’s found the words he's looking for.

He could always be wrong, though. He’s usually more one for incredible violence than smooth talking.

“Martyn?” He asks cautiously, casually. “Do you want me to help you?”

The expression that crosses Martyn’s face is unreadable.

He processes the question for a few moments, before he answers.

“Nah. I’m good.” He says, voice guarded. “Don’t worry about it.”

And that’s the rub, isn’t it.

Because now Grian has to decide whether he’s going to let Martyn lie to him or not.

Whether he’s going to pass the test that’s been set before him, or not.

...

Grian’s not a monster.

He’s just realistic.

There's nothing he could do, anyway.

“Well.” He says levelly. “Just let me know if that changes.”

(Martyn would do the same to him. It’s not a justification, or an excuse. But he knows it to be true.)

Martyn stares out into the darkness. His eyes are almost, but not quite, resentful. “Sure thing, man. Why wouldn’t I.”

It’s not said like a question, so Grian doesn’t answer it. “Well, you know I can’t stay here forever.”

“I do know that.”

“Any messages you want me to pass on to any of the hermits? I know you haven’t seen Mumbo in a while.” It’s not really a compromise, or a peace offering. Hopefully, however, it’s close enough to one or the other of those to act in their stead.

Martyn closes his eyes. Breathes in. Breathes out. Opens his eyes again. “If you were Grian, then maybe.” His gaze is cold. “But I think this hypothetical has gone on long enough.”

...It’s a lot easier for both of them, if Martyn believes that.

He’s positive Martyn knows that.

Just this once, perhaps he can manage to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

“For what it’s worth,” He says, looking away, “I moved on from the Bad Boys when it got too expensive to keep them alive.”

“It’s not worth a lot.” Says Martyn flatly. “And it would be worth even less coming from Grian.”

Grian sighs. “Alright. Fine. I’ll see you around, Martyn.”

“I know.” Says Martyn. He closes his eyes.

After a few moments, Grian does too.

When he opens them, he’s home.

…

Oh, that doesn’t feel good.

It really doesn't.

He could dwell on this. It wouldn’t be hard. He could drown himself in guilt over what he’s done, or not done, or will not do.

But- well.

Grian never really saw the point in letting someone else drag you down with them.

#once he's sure that the thing he's decided to pretend was not grian is gone #martyn goes back to falling #and wishes he still felt enough grief to be able to cry.#limited life smp #life series #grian #martyn inthelittlewood #my writing #i finally managed to finish this. it took me. a while.#they're narrative foils to the point of absurdity is the thing #they're incredibly similar and also completely different #it's fascinating

1K notes · View notes

angelizs · 2 years

Text

[Club activities - part 1]

Summary: Crowley insists you join one of the school's clubs, even though your schedule is already full. Having no other choice, you oblige, on one condition: you'll attend a meeting of each club before deciding which one you'll join. As expected, shenanigans ensue.

Notes: gn!reader, humor, it's kinda long, reader is oblivious, mentions of minor injuries but in a funny way dw, I had to research about horse management and now you'll know about it too

Part: 1 (you're here!) / 2.0 / 2.5 (soon!)

"Do I really have to do this? Isn't it enough that I already am your unnoficial errand runner, Grim's babysitter, Ramshackle's prefect and have to deal with an overblot a month on top of whatever insanity the students decide to put me through while I try to keep my grades up to not lose my scholarship?"

You really hoped he would listen to reason, after all, you already have way more than enough on your plate. As it is, he obviously didn't hear to a word you said. How unfortunate.

"Of course it's most crucial you participate in a club! As a model educator, I must set an example for my peers. How would it look if one of my students didn't partake in such an important school activity?"

Crowley looks agravated by the mere idea. You deadpan at him. He stares back at you. Grim snoozes in the background.

"Well, which one will it be?"

You sigh, as if the weight of the world was in your shoulders.

"...Can I see the list, at least?"

Crowley smiles, his whole demeanor changing as soon as he got what he wanted. You brace yourself for what is to come, knowing it will be a headache.

After taking a look at your options, you decide to go in one meeting of each before choosing one to join. You could just randomly pick one and be done with it, but since you're already being forced to do this, you should do something you enjoy.

The headmaster gives you a genial smile and agrees on your conditions, telling you how kind he is for doing so and how it will be great for your education. You glare at him, defeated.

Better start sooner than later, right?

Spelldrive Club (Leona, Ruggie, Epel)

Good news, you've played spelldrive before, so you're not entirely lost!

You keep that in mind as you arrive at the field. It's pretty intimidating, with most of the players being thugs from Savanaclaw that look like they could fold you in half like a twig. You scurry to Epel's side.

He's surprised you decided to participate in a meeting, but really happy as well since it's a chance to show off his manliness to you. You chat for a bit as you wait for Leona, the captain, to arrive. Ruggie eventually joins you both, cracking some joke about your unexpected attendance and having a new member on the team.

Once Leona arrives, he looks just as grumpy as usual, but his ears are perked up and he's scanning the field as if looking for something. And it seems he finds it once his eyes land on you, leading him to your little group's direction.

Crowley had the decency of telling him in advance about your test drive of the club, but Leona warns you he won't allow you to slack off just because it's your first day. You're surprised he even bothered to tell you this, as you imagined he would be as unenthusiastic as he is about his normal classes. It seems he has high expectations for you. Epel and Ruggie look startled as well, but wisely keep their mouths shut.

Everyone did light stretchs and got their brooms, ready to play. It was... intense. You already expected it from what little experience you had from the tornament, not to mention that by being magicless you had a limited range of moves you could pull, but it seemed Leona was a strict leader when it came to the sport.

That, or he wanted to show off today for some reason. According to one of Epel's snide remarks, Leona is usually more laid back than he was being. You couldn't help but worry it had something to do with you, so you kept your head low and tried to follow the best you could, least he screamed at you as well. Besides, his complaints did sound reasonable, even if he was blunt and kind of rude about them, so it was good he was so motivated!

And he wasn't the only one. Epel was giving his all, pulling stunts left and right to get points. You were amazed by his ability, since you've never seen him play before, you had no idea he was this good! Your gaze would wander to wherever he was and you could swear you felt him staring back sometimes, though he turned his head away too fast for you to confirm it.

Even so, he wasn't safe from blundering his play eventually. After marking a point, he turned in your direction, confident that you've been watching, chest puffed out proudly. Only to be met with your panicked look as you tried to signal for him to look behind. One of the players from Savanaclaw shoved him then, almost dropping him from his broom. Luckly, Epel managed to catch himself just in time to avoid an accident, making you sigh relieved, your clammy hands readjusting their grip on your own broom, heart beating wildly on your chest. Leona screamed at both of you for being distracted, but he glared harder at Epel.

Ruggie was another one set on impressing you with his techniques, doing dangerous tricks on his broom while in midair. You knew he was very good, he was the one you went against on the first time you played, after all, but still cheered on his tricks. His cheeky smile stayed firm on his face, growing at every compliment you threw his way. His tail was wagging behind him, but you didn't have to know that.

The thing is, if he started to pay too much attention on you to gauge your reactions, he got distracted from the game going on around him. On more than one occasion he was almost throw out while dangling on his broom with only his feet, somehow managing to get his balance back everytime. Leona looked ready to burst a blood vessel when it happened, you had a feeling he was going to be extra annoying to Ruggie for the rest of the week.

All in all, you couldn't do much, so you stayed at the sidelines watching your friends play. You were sweating all over, the scorching sun shining above you. Did you remember to use sunscreen? You closed your eyes and took one arm off your broom to wipe out some sweat from your brow, distracted. You were pretty tired. The shouting went on at the background. You had the impression your friends were calling your name. As soon as you were going to turn to their direction and see what it was that they wanted, everything went black and you lost consciousness.

You woke up at the infirmary, having a feeling of deja vu. Why whenever you tried to play spelldrive something had to happen? Epel, Ruggie and Leona were by your bedside, looking worried, upset or annoyed. They explained a disk went out of course and ended up hitting you at the back of your head, causing you to pass out.

Ruggie proudly announced he was the first one to react and caught you just in time, before you hit the ground. Epel added that he helped Ruggie bring you to the infirmary and that Leona went off on everyone at the field for not catching the damned disk. Leona just huffed and pretended to not care, but you could tell he did just from how he stayed waiting for you to wake up.

As sweet as that little moment was, you didn't want a repeat of what happened and felt spelldrive wasn't really for you. Time to check out other clubs.

(Epel excitedly asks for you to come and watch another pratice some time. Ruggie backs him up and pulls his puppy eyes on you. Leona looks like he would like that as well but stays silent, staring at you expectantly, ears perked up. You end up agreeing, not wanting to crush their enthusiasm. It seems they really enjoyed having you over. Not sure if the rest of the team could say the same, but a glare from Leona will shut them up if they dare to bother you.)

Equestrian Club (Riddle, Silver, Sebek)

There were horses on campus!? How come you never met one before? Time to rectify that!

You couldn't remember if you ever rode a horse before or not. Well, surely everything would turn out alright, since some of the most responsible people were on this club. Surely.

Riddle was the one that greeted you and showed you around the stables. There was a huge area dedicated to them, with all the horses having their own section and a fenced space reserved for riding them. They were all very well taken care of, as Riddle made sure to tell you about some of his duties as a member of the club. He even took you to meet his horse and taught you how to pet it!

You also met Sebek and Silver tending to their horses and talked with them a bit. Sebek expressed his diligence as always, talking loudly about his passion for the sport and how he would definitly make his Lord proud of his work. Silver was less overwhelming and seemed gentler surrounded by animals like that, as he told you softly that he was glad you showed interest in their club and how he hoped you'd enjoy it.

After such a warm welcome, you had your hopes high for this club! (Especially after what happened at spelldrive pratice). It didn't involve any magic either, so you could do everything just fine. All was well, until you were assigned a horse to tend for the day.

There was only one horse available, so you didn't have much of a choice, really. It was a beautiful white horse that truly looked straight out of a fairytale, with it's elegant aura and thick mane. If only it's temper could match it's appearence. It was one of the most petulant equines you've ever seen. It took a while for it to even let you get closer without trying to bite your hand off.

Silver said it still didn't have a name and Riddle told you that since you were it's handler for the day, you should name it. You decided to name it Maximus. Sebek liked the name, loudly approving it. Maximus seemed pretty content as well, so you patted yourself on the back for scoring one point with him.

The first thing you were going to do before actually riding him was to groom him. You decided to watch how your friends did it and mimick their actions. Riddle handed you a bucket with different brushes that you had no idea what should be used for. Sebek secured Maximus for you, saying it was to make sure he wouldn't move around while you tried to take care of him. Silver helped you two get acquainted, making sure you knew basic safety instructions.

You grab a round rubber comb, watching Riddle rub circles on his horse's side with a firm hold. Starting on Maximus' left side, you hesitantly bring the comb in contact with his fur, watching as he gives you a nasty side eye. You weakly start your sweeps, careful to not hurt him or press on a tender spot. Riddle tells you to use more pressure in order to remove the dirt from his coat. You increase your strenght as he nods approvingly. Just as he's about to turn back to his own work, he sees you sliding the brush down Maximus' shoulders and to his legs, his tail swishing in warning. He manages to pull you back just in time before Maximus closes his jaw where your hand was mere moments ago. Your arm trembles and your eyes are wide as he explains which areas are sensitive and that you'd better avoid them.

After using a stiff brush that reminded you of a broom to knock out the dirt you had loosened, being extra careful on the areas Riddle mentioned, you grab a soft brush. You feel dread pool on your stomach as you watch Silver kneel down to tend to his horse's legs. You stare at Maximus, hoping he would let you do the same, but you swear his expression is one that says 'I dare you to try and see what happens'. You gulp but still get down to it, better get it done as soon as possible. The front legs go swimmingly, the back ones not so much. As you're almost getting finished you accidently press on a sore spot. Maximus loudly neighs, stamps his foot and raises his knee, causing you to fall on your behind, surprised and very much still in hitting range. You were pretty sure that was it, you were going to infirmary again with the worst concussion ever known to man. Thankfully, Silver had noticed it just in time to drag you away, holding you by your armpits like a misbehaving kitten. Your knees feel weak, so you stay on the ground with a racing heart as you watch Silver calm Maximus down.

The next step was to clean Maximus' hooves. Anyone with half a brain cell could sense it was a bad idea to leave you to it, so you stayed back while Sebek did the cleaning. He didn't to it quietly though, he made sure to shout every step so you'd learn how to do it at a later date. You couldn't even find it in yourself to be mad at his condescending tone, too grateful for him helping you out. You thank him sincerely as he pauses mid rant. He stares at you with his mouth open, as if he had short circuited. Sebek stays strangely quiet for the next few minutes, not making eye contact with you but trying to steal glances your way without you noticing. Maximus huffs and it sounds mocking, somehow.

To finish it up, you comb Maximus' mane, untangling it carefully, finding it surprisingly relaxing and by far the best part of this whole thing. When brushing his tail, you make sure to stand by his side, not behind, to avoid almost being kicked again. You look proudly at your work as Maximus flaunts himself. Riddle, Silver and Sebek compliment your efforts, making you smile sincerely despite being pretty sure Maximus hates your guts and has cursed your entire bloodline in his mind.

Finally, the time has come. You're going to actually ride the horse now!

That is, if you manage to mount it first.

You try to mount Maximus' by his right side, but he doesn't budge. Plus, he's too tall for you to reach properly. He stares at you. You're sure he's laughing at your misery. Silver, bless him, comes to your aid. He hands you a safety helmet and calmly checks if the saddle is well secured with the girth and all buckles are fastened. He offers you his hand and you take it, letting him guide you to Maximus' left side as he explains just how to get up. He looks very princely like this, talking almost excitedly... or, well, as excited as Silver gets. He doesn't look like he's about to fall asleep, so that must count for something, and there's a rare smile on his face. He must really like his club. And the horses seem to like him just fine as well. Way too fine, actually, since they insist in interrupting him as he talks, demanding his attention. His horse smacks it's tail on your face as it nuzzles on Silver's hand. Maximus neighs amused, that bastard.

You thank Silver and let him get to his own activities, not wanting to take more of his time. He leaves, but his smile dropped and he looked almost disappointed. You wonder what that was about. Either way, you go find a steeping stool to help you mount Maximus. Riddle goes with you, insisting in supervising everything to make sure you won't have any problems. He holds Maximus' face to make sure he will stay quiet for you to mount him like Silver taught you to. As soon as you're seated Riddle withdraws from proximity, letting Maximus have some space. However, before you get time to grip the reins, Maximus takes off, leaving you to desperately hold onto his neck as he runs around. Riddle goes after the two of you, trying to stop him while you hold your screams in. After a full minute of this, Maximus suddenly stops, making you let go of your grip on him and fall to the side. Riddle fusses over you, making sure you're not badly hurt while reprimanding the horse for the stunt he pulled.

You do feel sore all over, but refuse to back down. You're not going to let Maximus have the last laugh. You thank Riddle for his help and let him go back to his horse, assuring him you'll be fine. He checks on you once more to make sure you're ok before going, looking behing his shoulder as if you were about to fall again. You smile reassuringly. His face turns red like his hair and he scurries away. You take Maximus back to where you left the steeping stool, determined to mount him and actually stay there this time.

Sebek notices your struggle and decides to graciously help you once more. Maximus squirms around but eventually the two of you make him stay in place while you mount him. Sebek keeps his hand on Maximus while you adjust your footing and organize the reins. Once you're ready, you nudge Maximus with your lower leg, encouraging him to start walking. Sebek insists on being close the entire time, making corrections to your position and moviments, such as keeping your back straight and looking forward. Even with his harsh soldier like tone, you begin enjoying the ride and compliment him on his ability as a teacher, stating how much of an exceptional rider he must be. Sebek blushes and starts stuttering, words getting mixed up with one another. Without his clear instructions you start having a rockier time with reining Maximus, but he manages to not blunder his words too much when telling you how to halt and to dismount your horse.

At the end of pratice you're sweaty, covered in mud and sore all over. It was fun some times, but you rather not have to worry for your life at every meeting (the overblots and dealing with your friends antics was already more than enough life threatning excitement for you). You also feel you should steer clear from the stables, just in case Maximus tries to commit his revenge on you. Time to check out other clubs.

(The boys insist you only need some more practice, that you have potential, that Maximus will warm up to you. They are very earnest when telling you they enjoyed having you over, even if they had to keep an eye on you the whole time to make sure you wouldn't get hurt. When they ask you to come by another time, you can't say no. You suppose you do owe them one for all their help. They ligthen up when you agree, so you can't bring yourself to regret it, even if you know you'll have to deal Maximus once again.)

Basketball Club (Ace, Floyd, Jamil)

Oh, this is Ace's club, right? And it's a normal non-magical sport as well. Let's give it a try!

The first person to greet you is, obviously, one of your closest friends (and cause of your daily headaches), Ace. He had bragged to you about his ability in playing basketball before, something about being the best freshmen in the team and even Riddle complimenting him on his skill. He teases you, asking if you'll be able to keep up with him, which earns him an eyeroll and a friendly punch on the shoulder.

You quickly remember who else Ace mentioned being on the team as soon as you hear a loud voice call for 'Shrimpy' and two arms squeezing the air out of you. Of course, Floyd was overenthusiastic about your participation, telling you how your presence would surely make things interesting and how this class was starting to get boring so it was good to have something new added to it. You're not sure how to react so you reply telling him you'll do your best (and praying he'd let you go before you run out of air). Floyd stares at you for a bit, taken aback from such an earnest answer, before squeezing you even harder for being so cute. Ace comes to the rescue, saving you from passing out before the class could even start.

You also find another familiar face on the team, Jamil. You thank whatever higher being that was out there looking out for you for sending a sane person to keep you company. It seems Jamil shares the sentiment, as you start a light conversation about the club that ends up being more about Jamil complaining that he had to deal with Kalim's shenanigans his entire life and the only moment he's alone he has to babysit Ace and Floyd, least they cause a disaster and the rest of the team is blamed for it. You sympathize with him, promising to do your part in the babysitting duty for the day. Jamil looks really relieved as he thanks you.

Before pratice, just like in Spelldrive, you did light stretches, competing with Ace to see who can reach their feet when bending down or who can stay longer balancing on one leg. Everyone got separated in duos to train some passes before actually playing. Scattering across the gym, each at one end of the room, you and Ace threw the ball between yourselves. He always had some cheeky comment to make about your lack of skill, which only motivated you to throw the ball harder at his direction, technique be damned. All the while you had to be careful to avoid stray shots from the others around you. Perhaps you should have brought the safety helmet from the Equestrian club.

Floyd and Jamil (he must have been dragged into this, being one of the only ones able to handle Floyd) were right next to where your duo was. They both were obviously skilled, doing tricks with the ball to show off. You were actually pretty impressed as you observed them, so much so that you miscalculated your shot and instead of sending the ball to hit Ace, it went at Floyd's direction. As Floyd was busy annoying the closest student to his side, he only noticed the ball right before it hit him, too late to stop it.

Thankfully his skull was thick enough that not even a basketball hitting him managed to hurt, though it did leave quite an impressive red mark on his face. Ace swore and scurried away from Floyd's other side, Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, you felt your heart drop. The student that previously had Floyd's attention took the opportunity to run away, leaving the four of you in this stalemate. Even with all the activity around, you could only focus on the way Floyd raised his eyes to meet your frightened ones, an impassive expression on his face and your basketball on his hand.

Instead of a frown and the deeper tone of voice you expected (alongside the promise of pain in your future), you were met with a wide grin, sharp teeth at full display, and a high pitched giggle. You didn't know which was worse. Either way, you felt like a prey caught in it's predator radar. Floyd told you that if you wanted to play so bad, he'd be happy to play with you! Ace was planning your funeral already.

And so, what was supposed to be a simple exercise of passing the ball became an impromptu game of dodgeball in which if you were hit, instead of being out you gained a concussion and a trip to the infirmary. Somehow, Ace and Jamil got roped into it as well, the three of you running around to avoid being hit by one of the deathly bullets Floyd threw at you. After noticing it, the club leader announced they could stop for a short break before picking out the teams for a game, in the hopes it would distract the eelmer enough to make him stop.

It worked, since the prospect of 'playing another game with shrimpy' made Floyd get excited to get you on his team. You sighed in relief, a bit out of breath. You and Ace sprawled yourselves at the floor to rest, not caring about how dirty it may be, your legs needed to lay down for a while. He turned his head at your direction and said it was your fault for having such bad aim. You replied with how it was his fault for being so bad at teaching you. You have a stare down that ends in both bursting into laughter.

Jamil and some other second year were the ones choosing the teams. He smiled mischievously, the same smile he had when he was planning something. Jamil could be the calmer one between your options, but that didn't mean he wouldn't cause trouble as well. In the end, you stayed on Jamil's team while Floyd and Ace were on the other. Floyd pouted and whined about how he had wanted to play in the same team as you and Ace seemed a bit miffed (you weren't sure if it was because he ended up against you or because he was with Floyd). Jamil had a very self satisfied smile on his face as he told you which formation your team would use. He sent a smug smirk to the others when you weren't looking.

You were wondering what kind of stunt Floyd would put to get what he wanted, but once the game started he just... didn't do anything. Jamil, on the other hand, was quick to catch the ball and take it to the other side of the court, dodging Ace's attempts at stopping him, jumping high and scoring some points. You were in awe, you had no idea Jamil was this good! As he went to your side with a self-satisfied expression in face, you showered him in compliments, saying how fast he ran and how high he jumped and how he looked really cool! While the smile stayed on his face, it seemed softer, and Jamil wouldn't look you in the eyes, murmuring something that you didn't catch about this being his strategy to win by having you on his side.

As the game went on you managed to get the hang of it, actually enjoying playing! Jamil and you made a great duo and Floyd was too desmotivated to try to win, so that only left Ace as your major obstacle. He'd often try to get the ball from your hands while making some sassy remarks and engaging in light hearted banter with you. Even when you weren't with the ball he stayed close to try to block you. It came to a point when you were going to try to score a point when he appeared in front of you, close enough that you wouldn't have time to dodge him. So, of course, you had to maneuver your way out, getting close to his face as you made sure to keep his hands away from the ball. His attention was solely on you, gaze unwavering as your noses almost touched and your breaths mingled. He was frozen in place and you took your chance, jumping as high as you could and dunking the ball on the net.

Your team cheered you on, a huge smile on your lips as you turned to see Ace's reaction. He was standing at the same spot, still looking at you. You winked playfully and blew him a kiss, rubbing your victory on his face, proud of your work. He blushed and crossed his arms, saying that you cheated by distracting him. His gaze remained on the lower half of you face. Before you could reply, Jamil whisked you away, congratulating you on your shot.

It was good your team got hyped up, but alongside it so did Floyd. He suddenly felt motivated to play against you and see you try to dodge around him like you did with Ace, since it seemed like lots of fun! (Which would not happen because have you seen his height?) It's not like you had a choice in the matter, anyway, since Floyd could easily take down any member of your team and go straight at you now that he felt like playing again. The last minutes were more like a game of tag between you two, Floyd giggling as he tried to catch you. You ran around the players, trying your best to make a complicated path to confuse him.

You were actually having some fun, seeing Jamil get the ball from Floyd's hands to help you out and Ace try to get in your way to slow you down. Still, you were not used to that much exercise, your sore body becoming your own enemy as you got more sluggish, which in turn made you get more distracted. It was thanks to that you didn't notice Floyd until he was right beside you, ready to glomp you and squeeze as he trapped you in his arms. You'd blame it on your tiredness later, but as a last effort to get away from him you turned around abruptly, supporting your weight on your heel. Since you were worn out, you got dizzy quickly, tripping over your own feet and landing on the ground.

As soon as you felt sharp pain on your ankle you knew you were screwed, a whine coming out of your throat and tears welling in your eyes. Why must something like this always happen to you? The boys crowded over you, asking if you were okay or if you could stand up or if you wanted a hug to feel better. The answer was no to all of them.

In the end, you saw yourself staring at the infirmary ceiling once more, sweaty and tired, your ankle wrapped in bandages and propped up on the bed. Maybe you should stop going to sports clubs' pratices. Ace, Jamil and Floyd stood by your side, watching you to make sure you were alright, in their own ways. You felt a strong sense of deja vu, though you were grateful for them carrying you all the way up there (even if Floyd took the opportunity to squeeze you some). You could tell for sure that basketball wasn't for you. Time to check out other clubs.

(To lift the mood, Ace cracked a joke about how terrible you were at basketball and how you still had a long way to go before reaching his level. Jamil agreed, adding that pratice makes perfect. Floyd said he had much more fun with shrimpy around to keep him entertained. It wss pretty obvious they wanted to see you there again. The three of them looked at you with hope, even if Floyd's puppy eyes didn't work nearly as well as Ruggie's and Ace's and Jamil's tsundere act didn't fool you, you couldn't say no to them. You did have some fun as well, although next time you'll try to only watch and cheer on the sidelines, no need to be on the playing field and within squeezing distance.)

Track and Field Club (Deuce, Jack)

Despite your previous conviction, you decided to give the sports clubs one last chance. As this club didn't involve a game with complicated rules nor any magic, it seemed like the best choice. Positive thinking is key!

As soon as you steped foot into the field, Deuce and Jack came to great you, visibly happy to have you there! (They won't admit it to you, but they were a bit jealous that you had went to your other first year friends' clubs but not to theirs yet. They were determined to impress you.)

You tell them you're a little worried you won't be able to keep up with their pace, since Deuce has won prizes for his speed and Jack goes on morning jogs everyday. They reassure you that it's no problem, they'll help you the best they can!

The other members don't mind you much, letting your friends monopolize your attention. Jack asks if you've eaten and how has your diet been, you'll need some energy to run! Deuce asks if your uniform is comfortable and if the shoes fit in the right way, it's important to be able to move freely! They are very respectful and answer any question you might have patiently, which makes you feel welcomed. Maybe this time it won't be so bad!

To start pratice, the club leader tells all the members to run some laps. You notice you're pretty behind everyone else, but you're trying to not use all your energy at the warm up, so you don't mind. You take the chance to observe your friends running ahead of you, how the sun reflects on their skin, their shoulders going up and down, every step helping them gain speed. They looked really cool. This fills you with determination, promising to yourself to give it your best in this club.

After taking a break to drink water and stretching your muscles, you start the dynamics. It was a bit funny since you did them by basically moving in circles and changing the way you walk. Still, they were easier to accompany everyone than the laps. So far, so good!

Things start going downhill once you had to do the jumps. Everyone lined up, you staying at the last place, Jack and Deuce right in front of you. They explain that you should sprint, jump at the wooden board and land on the sand pit. Seems easy enough!

It's not. On Jack's turn, he makes it looks effortless, even with his bigger built he manages to land with grace. You clap for him and he pretends to not notice, but his tail is wagging. On Deuce's, he catches speed quickly and jumps high, landing on his feet and turning to look at you. You cheer for him, a big smile in face as he rubs the back of his neck and thanks you with red cheeks.

You try to copy their moviments, sprinting with a concentrated look on your face, focused on your destination. Unfortunately, you should have looked at the ground as well, since when it was time to jump you were just a tad too slow and tripped on the wooden plank, falling on the sand pit. You try again, this time focusing on where you're putting your feet, not missing the plank! However, you jump with too much force and doesn't land right, bouncing off the ground again before falling on your knees. You try one more time, jumping at the right place and not putting to much force. This time, though, your feet are not positioned the right way and you loose the strenght to support your weight, eating sand once more. You're going to blame this one on your recently sprained ankle and call it a day. (Thanks Floyd!)

After getting no luck on the long jump (and leaving with your hair full of sand), Jack and Deuce make sure you're ok. You reassure them that yes, your ankle is fine (for now), no, you didn't swallow sand (at least you're pretty sure you didn't) and yes, of course you want to keep going, it's going to take more than just that to deter you (you're a bit used to defeats). Finally, you start to train for the high jump. Especifically the landing, since if you fall the wrong way you could get seriously hurt. Please make sure you land right! Jack and Deuce will be watching closely, ready to help.

Everyone gets separated to go to different mats, some of the older students going straight to the jump. Your friends follow you, Deuce has a fist up as he talks excitedly about his progress on this jump. Jack listens by the side, nodding to some things or adding a comment on how he didn't jump quite that high, but it was an improvement anyway. They are like your personal coaches, instructing you to start by doing rollouts, than jumping and doing a rollout, then jumping higher and doing a rollout.

Once the basics are covered they join you, taking turns at running and flopping on their backs. It's fun, the way your body bounces of the mat and watching Jack and Deuce compete on who can flop harder. They add the bungee, which makes things more complicated since you had to reach a certain heigh to not get stuck on it, but it was a nice challenge. You did lose your shoe due to your feet getting caught in the bungee on the first try, though.

You were enjoying it, laughing along your friends! Until they added the bar. The bar changed everything. The height was a bit higher than it was with the bungee and it was nowhere near as soft. You watched, in awe, as Jack and Deuce flew just over lt and landed on a rollout. You were sure you'd get it too, after all, you did great on the other steps! You ran, turned around and used as much impulse as you could to jump. Instead of the soft embrace of the training mat, you were met with the metalic and hard feeling of the bar digging on your back as you landed right above it. Not even the mat could soften the blow, making you cry out, both in surprise and in pain. The sting was enough to have you wondering if you ever wanted to try this again in your life, the pain was not worth it.

Deuce was by your side instantly, bending down, asking if your back was ok and offering his hand to help you get up. Your hand clasps his, the force he used making your faces come very close to each other, noses touching, your breathless and flushed face right in front of his worried blue eyes. Said eyes widen as his face takes a red tone, he stutters apologies while backing away, hands covering his cheeks. Jack, who you hadn't notice coming close behind you, puts his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. He says you went well for a begginer and tells you how Deuce did the same thing on his first try. You giggle, putting one of your hands above his to show your appreciation. He quickly drops it and crosses his arms, saying the three of you better get going to the next exercise, eyes avoiding yours and conveniently looking at where the others on the field were gathering together.

There were obstacles scattered across the field, some closer than others. Deuce puffs out his chest and says it's time for the hurdle hops and that he'll show to you how it's done. You watch intently as he sprints and jumps at all the right times, not losing speed despite the things in his way. Jack follows him, a stoic look as he calculates just the right time to jump and cross every obstacle. It reminded you of when you'd watch race competitions back at home, how the runners looked as they crossed the finish line.

Filled with nostalgia, you try to replicate your memory, basing yourself on your friends' perfomances. You run and jump successfully on the first hurdle, feeling as if you're really improving! Though not for too long, since on the second hurdle you don't manage to jump high enough and just end up kicking it and falling on your butt. Oh well, you lasted longer than expected.

You refuse to back down, getting up and dusting yourself, ready to try again. Deuce and Jack support your enthusiasm, hyping you up on every try. It's a bit embarrassing to have them watching and commenting like this, but you feel warmth spreading through your chest and a smile blooming on your face. It's good to know people trust your ability to improve and do better, and you're not about to let them down!

There's one time you trip when you're near the hurdle and end up slipping under it. Another time you jump too close to it and almost full body slam it, falling on top of it. Your feet catches onto the edge of one of the hurdles and makes you fall. You end up knocking over one hurdle, keep running and then falling due to your lost momentum and equilibrium. You stay on the ground, defeated, your body screaming at you after so many falls. It wouldn't be so bad to give up, right? You really did try.

Deuce and Jack carry you to a bench and take care of you, Deuce handing you some water while Jack cleans the scratches you got from meeting the floor so much. They don't rub it in your face about your defeat (like a certain red haired first year would) and try to encourage you to keep trying. (They were pretty worried when you didn't get up though. They wanted to be one of the clubs that didn't make up you end on the infirmary.)

To end pratice, everyone would do a long run. The boys tell you can skip it, since you are already very tired, not used to this much exercising, chest heaving up and down and breath coming as short puffs of air. Jack says it'll do you no good to overwork your body and end up collapsing, Deuce backing him up. Still, you're stubborn, and you already did everything, you might as well go until the end. So you tell them you'll be just fine and agree to the run.

You keep Jack's words in mind, making sure to not overexerte it. Instead of holding a full on sprint you settle on a lighter jog, making sure your breaths are somewhat regulated. This makes you stay very behind the others but you don't mind, everyone has their own pace after all. Deuce and Jack were close to you, since they had very obviously slowed down significantly to keep you company, and you greatly appreciated that, flashing them a smile. Deuce offers a thumbs up and Jack nods his head.

There is a part where you trip and almost fall, but thankfully Deuce catches your arm and manages to keep you upright while still in movement. Though you two get extremely close again, your foreheads even knock on each other's. Deuce gets red faced again, instead of fumbling with his words he fumbles with his feet, tripping and taking you with him as his grip tightens on your arm.

Jack comes to the rescue and stays in the middle, still running prefectly even after having used so much energy during pratice. Guess the daily jogs do work. You look at his back muscles contracting, his shoulders moving, his tail helping him keep equilibrium, feet touchig the ground for a moment before they're gone. He seems to notice the eyes on his back as he looks over his shoulder, head tilting in confusion in such an endearing way you can't help but tell him what you were thinkin, about how cool he looks and how he must have trained so much for this! He looks taken a bit aback, ears twitching and tail wagging. So much so, in fact, that due to your closeness and his thick fur, it hits you, and due to your tiredness and the position it hits, you end up falling once again. You're not even mad, honestly. It was the nicest fall you've had so far.

Congrats, you manage to finish the run! Although you're drenched in sweat, hair sticking to your forehead and throat dry, you did it! But Deuce and Jack won't look you in the eye and keep blushing for some reason, you start to wonder if they're down with a fever at this point. Anyways, as soon as the run is over you throw youself (gently) on the ground, taking large gulps of air and spreading and stretching your limbs.

All in all it was pretty fun, even if you did get some scratches and lost whatever little dignity you still had. But you found yourself all sweaty and sore again, not to mention that you didn't think that track was for you. You plan to check other non sport related clubs later, but first, you deserve a break.

(Jack's tail keeps wagging and Deuce's smile is glued to his face. They mentally high five each other for a job well done. They had made you feel welcomed! And you enjoyed yourself! Such a shame you're not entering the club yet... remember to not fall out ot pratice in order to build stamina. Jack can help you with that, going on jogs with you! And you were so good at the high jump, not to mention you were almost getting the hang of the hurdle hops, so maybe next time you try will be the time you make it! Deuce can help you if you need! It's very clear what they wanted, and since they did do their best it feels right to give them a little reward, so of course you agree to come to another pratice eventually. Their smiles give you the force to strengthen your resolve, as you bid goodbye to any possible dignity you had left.)

Masterlist

4K notes · View notes

skitskatdacat63 · 5 months

Text

Fernando Alonso & His Relationship With Cards

I'm sure we're all familar with the cards on the back of Fernando's Vegas GP helmet by now, but did you know his relationship with cards goes a lot deeper?

I. Magic Tricks

You've probably seen or heard someone at least mention Fernando's propensity for card tricks. As far as I can tell he was doing them(publically) as far back as 2003 all the way to as recently as 2018. Even once performing a card trick, with a condom and a teddy bear(!??!?!??!!), in front of Valentino Rossi who said "How was that possible?"(x)

But how did this start? According to James Allen, "Fernando admits to having been heavily influenced by his grandfather, a mercurial figure, who taught him magic and card tricks, still one of his passions away from the race track."(x) And I'm not sure the validity of this one, because I couldn't find an actual source, but apparently he once said: "My parents are responsible for the two things I like doing most - driving and magic tricks. They bought me my first go-kart and a magician's kit."

In several interviews he described it as his hobby off track, and that he loved learning new tricks and surprising others in the garage with them! So clearly cards are pretty important to him both as a hobby but also to who he is as a person since they've been with him just as long as racing has.

II. Card Symbolism in His Helmets

This is the reason I originally made this post, but I thought I should also explain the origins of his card fascination first. As I said, we probably all remember the cards on the back of his helmet in Vegas, but did you know that wasn't the first time he had cards on the back of his helmet?

From 2008-2013, he used to have a pair of cards on the back of his helmets. The symbolisms of the cards themselves as well as the evolution of their design is really fascinating to me! Even more so with the recent development of the card choice in 2023.

Fernando said he wanted to reference his two titles in some way on the back of his helmet and after his friend sent him several ideas, he decided on having two cards(an ace of clubs and an ace of hearts, sometimes pictured with 05 and 06 on them as well), saying: "I picked the cloverleaf [the ace of clubs - Ed] to give me luck, but the only pity is that it doesn't have four leaves!"(X)

2008.

Here's the very first appearance of the cards! They're displayed flat, with the 05 and 06 clearly visible

2009.

Very similar to 2008, but with a slightly different design, and they're maybe a bit more straight with less shadow?

2010.

This is the first major change! I was sad they didn't have the years on them anymore, but then I realized they're sparkly to match with his signature lightning bolts on the top of the helmet!!

2011.

Honestly I'm still somewhat unsure if this is the actual 2011 helmet? It's pretty difficult to find clear photos of the back of helmets from older seasons. It's easiest to find them on replica sites or auction sites so I'm not 100%? But anyways, I like that this has the championship years on the underside of the cards

2012.

This is when I started getting weirdly emotional about the helmets. Do you see how they've progressed from being a centerpoint to being curled up and sad at the bottom of the helmet? Not listing the year anymore??

2013.

Same thoughts as 2012. And after this season, they cease to exist (just like his ferrari chair in the garage, WOAH CALLBACK), until cards make a reeappearance in his Vegas helmet, albeit in a different form

2013 Monaco(Honorable Mention):

For some reason 2013 helmets were easier to find proper pictures of, so I happened to witness this absolute beauty. The creativity of this helmet genuinely blows me away??? Wanting to keep the card motif, but making sure to incorporate it into the rest of the puzzle piece design?? Mwah! There was another special 2013 helmet but they didn't change the cards at all so I really applaud this one

2023 Las Vegas(The Return of The King):

The magnificent return! But look! The cards are different cards! Instead of being two aces, it's now an ace of hearts, a four of hearts(his driver number of course!) and, the, now iconic, representation of himself as a Joker. I literally could not believe my eyes when this helmet was released and I saw the Joker card, what a fucking silly old man....I really wonder if he felt nostalgic having cards on his helmet again or if he didn't think about it all and was just like, "ah cards because Vegas!!!"

III. Why Does This Matter?

*The rest of the post was factual, this is moreso my personal thoughts on the symbolism of the cards/designs

This post spawned from me recently watching the 2010 Bahrain gp and noticing "hey wait a minute...are those CARDS ON THE BACK OF HIS HELMET!?" It's a really tiny detail that's unfortunately covered up by the HANS device pretty much whenever he's wearing the helmet, so it's really difficult to spot! But I became fascinated with the fact that he had cards on his helmet before that recent helmet, and now here we are!

There's something to me about how the design of the cards evolves over the course of six seasons from the cards being front and center to being smaller, more folded up and closer to the bottom of the helmet. As I said, the 2012-2013 ones genuinely made me depressed because it feels, symbolically, like his hopes for getting another Ace are becoming more and more unlikely and falling away until they eventually fall falt and fade away entirely after 2013 and disappear for basically a decade.

But when they return? They're not the same cards! Instead of representing Fernando's championships, they now represent him as a person, displaying his driver number and his persona of being a Joker!! Though I do think it's interesting he happened to keep the Ace of Hearts, even though he talked more about the Ace of Clubs before. I'm not sure it's actually this deep in reality, but I like to think that it's him not letting his championships(and the lack thereof) define him, but rather letting who he is as a person shine and be the centerpoint instead! But on a sadder note, as @suzuki-ecstar said to me, maybe the Aces aren't there anymore because he's lost all hope for a chance at a third Ace entirely :(

#yes its finals week and im up to my eyes in coursework but instead decided to spend like 5 hours researching and writing this post #nah bcs i actually genuinely put more work into this then I think I have all semester dsfjdskjg #that thing about him using a condom and teddy bear in a magic trick genuinely had me crying with laugher. actual tears rolling down my face #<- HOW!?!? WHAT WAS THE TRICK?? its literally inconceivable to me what he did. oh if only there were pics UGH #anyways!! this post was a lot of fun to make!! i really really love the symbolism and design of helmets so this was a rly fun project #and i also went down a lot of rabbitholes while make this and saw many very weird articles from yore #i feel like i make an equal amnt of deranged posts abt seb and nando but i dont know why nando is gifted w all my well researched projects #<- i.e. chair post. that was the same level of research as this one but at least this one i could find actual sources about....#idk theres smth about the extremely long history of nando's history that evokes research posts like this KLAJSLSKDJ #theres just so much that i dont think I ever really see people discussing! so i must create.#haha what was that joke tag i wanted to make abt my researched posts? I think:#normal posts that catie normally makes in a normal fashion #<- one day ill go back and actually tag posts w that. bcs the amtn of research compared to my actual schoolwork is so unwell #fernando alonso #fa14 #f1 #formula 1 #catie.rambling.txt #we do a little bit of f1

280 notes · View notes