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pavlovianfuckery · 8 months ago

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catch me if you can or whatever

This is an 18+ space, if your blog is empty I will assume that you're either a bot or a minor and act accordingly.

A/N: Re-uploading all my fics after having a slight mental breakdown and deleting everything so this is kind of old, but bone apple tea and all that anyway

AO3

The Master-masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

Summary: Basically what it says on the tin. Make silly bets, get silly prizes, like creature-dick and the worst cardio session ever

Pairing: Dream/F!Reader

Notes: oral, piv sex, primal kink if you squint, no use of y/n

Length: 2800~ words

This is a nightmare. Your lungs are burning and your legs ache, but still, you run. If you had known that one childish impulse would get out of hand like this, you might have thought twice before teasing him the way you had.

It had started as something silly, trying to pry him away from his work for a few minutes, nothing more. A quip about him needing to lighten up hadn't been quite enough, so in the spur of the moment, you had simply snatched the book he'd been reading right out of his hands, absconding deeper into the library with a barely suppressed laugh. You hadn't expected him to chase you, though. Granted, it wasn't in any great hurry but pursue you he did, finally cornering you between the towering bookshelves.

"That was juvenile, even for you. Do I truly bore you so?" The way he'd chided you lacked any real heat though.

"Is it so terrible to want your attention for a few minutes? You have all the time in the world to work." Fiddling with the folds in his coat, you gently nipped at his bottom lip. "Surely you can do the rest later?" It was not much use though.

"As much as I'd like to indulge you, I cannot, not tonight. Although..." he'd paused, thinking for a moment, "if a chase is what you're after, why not make it something a bit more exciting than these childish antics in my library?"

"I'm listening."

"How about a small wager? If you can evade me until sun-up tomorrow, by any means you can imagine, you may ask me for anything you would like." That piqued your interest. He'd humour you from time to time, that wasn't uncommon in itself, but he was usually so serious.

"That doesn't sound so hard. What's the catch? With you, there is always one of those." Which was true, for all that he might have accommodated you in the past, he would usually find some way to be a bit of an ass about it. If you didn't know better, you might have mistaken him for a fae. Your scepticism seemed to amuse him.

"Should you fail, I will do with you as I will, whatever that might entail." That hadn't sounded bad at all, butterflies filling your stomach at the way he'd smiled at you, just a hint too sharp."It may not be as pleasant as what you might be imagining, I'm afraid. After all, what would be the point of this little game if you were simply planning to let me win?"

"I'll make you work for it, don't worry." The words had come out a lot more confident than you felt, but you weren't going to let him know that.

"Good. I will even give you a headstart." You'd started protesting about not needing him to do you any favours, but he'd simply covered your mouth with his, cutting you off. Judging by the way he had kissed you until your knees felt like jelly, he perhaps hadn't minded being pulled away from his work for a while, after all. When he finally let you up for air, you'd noticed that he'd stolen his book back.

"Hey!"

"I'll be waiting. Now, wake up."

⁂

In hindsight you're kicking yourself for agreeing, it had been so stupid. At first, you simply tried to hide, mostly to see what he would do. By any means you can think of, he had said, and being in the Dreaming made it easy to let your imagination run free. It seemed like as good a start as any, disguising yourself as a butterfly and joining one of the great swarms in the palace gardens, doing your best to blend in. Evidently, it was not as smart as you had thought, because he found you in barely any time at all.

"That's very clever, my love. You will have to do better than that, though." He paused, considering. "I did promise you a head start, did I not? Five minutes should be plenty, I believe."

Did he think you were that slow? Your dismay must have been apparent even in this form, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

"Which is it going to be, my sweet? Are you going to waste time sulking, or are you going to run?"

You run. Or fly, rather. You're not quite sure what exactly you turned into this time other than "bird", but you're small and fast, and that's all that matters. In no time at all, Dream is nothing but a dark smudge against the grass, rapidly shrinking. The speed is exhilarating and for a moment you forget the bet, the silly little game, all of it. Not for long though. Silhouetted against the sky like this you make an easy target, so you dash for the only cover you can find.

In the Waking, it would be cold and wet and miserable, but not here. Here the clouds are warm, covering you like a soft blanket as you make for the nearby forest, the treetops barely visible through the mist like an untidy fence off in the distance. It's not too far, and if you hurry you will have enough hiding places to have a fighting chance, so you pick up the pace. And then something moves above you, dark wings parting the mist in great rolling waves. It's hard to see much, but you can tell that it's big, whatever it is.

"Is this the best you can do? I was expecting you to take this a bit more seriously." There is no way that it has been 5 minutes already, but before you can call him out for cheating, great talons are raking through the air. They miss you with barely an inch to spare, ruffling your tail feathers. He is seconds away from catching you and by the sound of it, you might get a bit more than you bargained for if you let him do that. You dive.

Despite the breakneck speed, he's all but nipping at your heels the entire way down, leaving you no choice but to hit the ground running. The grass is slippery with dew, turning your landing into a slide and making you lose your footing. Not for long though, strong hind legs and claws of your own giving you grip and a burst of speed as you launch yourself into the tall grass. A hare might not have been your first pick, but it's not like you had time to think. It makes gaining ground easy though, darting this way and that towards the treeline, narrowly evading the grasping talons.

You make it into the forest, the dense undergrowth giving you enough cover to shake him off. The thick layer of fallen leaves deadens every sound, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that he's not behind you anymore. In fact, you can't see or hear him at all. It's not likely that he would have given up that easily, but your legs feel like jelly so you stop to catch your breath. Finally yourself again, you sit down heavily on a tree stump, lungs still heaving like bellows. Since this is all technically a dream, it feels deeply unfair that you get winded at all. You remind yourself to ask him about that later, but you suspect that running in your dreams does not count as cardio.

Dawn is still hours away, and you have no clue how you're going to make it until then. At this point, it feels like you might as well give up. You're pretty sure he wouldn't do anything too bad, and there is no way you can keep this pace up for much longer. The sound of a dead branch breaking nearby is loud, taking you by surprise.

At first, you're not entirely sure what you're looking at, except that it's not any kind of animal that you know. It's pale, with a starved look about it, all sinew and bone. Between the dark tufts of fur and the gangly, oddly proportioned limbs, it is entirely alien. Even the way it moves is unsettling as its antlered head swivels in your direction, its eyes fixed on you. Black eyes.

As it turns out, you do have the energy to keep running after all.

For a few fleeting seconds, you almost think he might let you go. But then he chases after you, more branches breaking. It's over in less than a minute. If you hadn't tripped it might have been one and a half, maybe even two. But soon, a clawed hand pushes you down onto the ground, leaving you splayed out like so much prey. Wriggling only makes him put more of his weight on you, claws pricking your skin.

"Be still." His voice is almost felt rather than heard, reminding you of gravel being ground underfoot and the bubbling of mud, nothing like his usual smooth velvet. There is a gibbering at the back of your mind, every base instinct telling you to flee, to get away by any means possible before you're eaten."Or would you deny me my prize?"

For a moment you consider it, calling it off. He hasn't held that against you in the past, and he wouldn't now. And despite appearances, you're pretty sure he wouldn't actually eat you. This close you can't help noticing the disconcerting amount of sharp-looking teeth though, so you take a deep breath to try and calm yourself.

"No." Your voice isn't quite as steady as you would have liked it to be but you reach out to touch him all the same. His skin is warm and dusted with fine, almost invisible hair. It's a strange, almost sticky feeling, and when he pulls away to move down your body, you half expect it to coat your fingers like moth scales. When he reaches the apex of your thighs he nuzzles there, drawing your scent deep into his lungs with a low rumbling sound.

The way he picks at your clothes with the tips of his claws is almost dainty, the fabric giving with little ripping sounds as he works your legs free, leaving you bare. When he spreads your lips to expose you to him it's with the gentlest touch, careful not to scratch you. Aside from his eyes, the way he works your clit is the only familiar thing tonight, teasing you until you can hardly stand it. When the tip of his tongue probes your entrance your eyes drift shut, anticipating what's to come.

"No, look at me." Once he's satisfied that you're watching he slides his tongue into you, inch by slick inch, not stopping until his teeth prick your skin. He could swallow your whole cunt whole like this, easily fitting all of it in his mouth with room to spare.

The movement of his tongue is a slow, undulating thing as he fucks you with it, drinking down every drop of your juices as he massages every sweet spot at once. It's a wholly new sensation and it's got you craving more of it, making you grab hold of his antlers to better grind yourself against him, but he just gives a low growl and splays one huge hand across your stomach, keeping you still as he feasts on you. Craning your neck you can only just glimpse his length, massive and ridged, the broad head already leaking and turning the dark fur between his legs sticky.

"Gods, Dream, you're not planning to fuck me with that thing?" He doesn't respond right away, so intent on devouring you, not stopping until you're trembling.

"Remember the agreement, my love. Do not refuse me now." His expression is harder to read like this, but the want in his voice is plain enough. Stroking your sides soothingly, his voice turns almost cajoling as he continues, "Turn over."

Perhaps against your better judgement, you do as he asks, your stomach fluttering with equal parts desire and trepidation. The smell of decaying leaves and trampled undergrowth is thick in your nose as he puts you on your hands and knees, face nearly touching the forest floor. It's hard to stay still as he starts slowly pushing inside, careful not to crush you under his weight as he mounts you. He makes it less than an inch before you tense, certain that he's going to split you in half somehow.

"Wait, I don't know if..."

"You can take me." He presses against you another fraction of an inch, not bothering to let you finish talking. "You will."

At first, it feels like he's demanding the impossible, but gradually you manage to relax. He takes his time working his way inside of you and when he finally bottoms out it's with a guttural sound, his breath ruffling your hair as he pants against the back of your neck. You half expect some form of "I told you so" but it never comes. Instead, you simply breathe together for a few moments as he gives you time to adjust.

When he moves it's so slowly, like he could break you somehow. When you don't, he gets bolder, pulling nearly all the way out and then thrusting back in, making sure you feel every ridge and bump. Every noise you make seems to egg him on until his teeth are at the back of your neck, not quite drawing blood.

He takes his time, holding you steady as he claims you utterly. Even when his teeth nick your skin he doesn't falter, probing at the cut with his tongue until saliva dribbles down your neck. Even the way he tightens his grip on you is entirely other, leaving you unable to do anything but wriggle in the dirt, black spots dancing across your vision.

"Dream, please!" Everything is pressure and a gasp is all you can manage. You can feel him swell inside of you in response to your pleading, and then one huge finger settles over your neglected clit, the claws a reminder of just how easily he could rip you apart like this.

In a way he does, rubbing at you until your release is so close that you can nearly taste it. Teetering right on the precipice, you're not sure if there is even room for you to come, he's got you stretched so wide. He's insistent though, trapping you between his hand and his cock, not letting you squirm away no matter how much you try.

In the end, he reaches his peak first, jaws locked like a steel trap around your neck as he spills deep inside of you. It feels as if it might never end as he pulses over and over until his release is running down your legs. Even then he manages to keep up the slow, full strokes, refusing to stop until you hurtle over the edge.

When you finally do, it knocks the breath out of you, leaving you no air to even scream. The girth of him makes your cunt struggle to clench and as he fucks you through it, he very nearly gets pushed out. He doesn't let up until you almost collapse under his weight, utterly spent. Even as he lays you down on your side he doesn't withdraw, just pulls you close and curls in around you with a sound that while strange, sounds content enough. It's oddly cosy like this, his deep rumbling breaths against your back, and for a few moments neither of you says anything. As the lightheadedness starts lifting and your heart stops pounding like you've run a marathon, you can't quite hold back a sigh.

"Something troubling you, my love?" Even distorted, the amusement in his voice is apparent.

"Were you ever going to give me a fair chance to win?" With the soreness setting in, it's difficult to keep some irritation out of your voice.

"Perhaps." This time he doesn't bother to disguise it, and you're grateful that you have your back turned so you don't have to see the smug expression on his face. "As I recall, you agreed to the terms."

"You cheated!" You emphasize the words with an elbow to where his stomach should be, though not very hard. It barely connects, and you're too worn out to stay annoyed. There is a crick in your neck and you wince, hoping it won't follow you into the waking world. "Next time, remind me not to interrupt while you're working."

At first, he doesn't respond and you think he might be having a coughing fit. For a second you wonder if an Endless can even get sick, or if something else is wrong. Then he nuzzles your neck and you realize that the dreadful noise is him laughing at you. Not very loudly, but still. By the time you wake up, you still haven't decided whether you should be annoyed at the cheek of him, or just be happy that you heard him laugh for the first time.

⁂

The Master-masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

If you liked this spicy snack even a little, please consider supporting your local smut-slinger and hitting the reblog button on the way out, perhaps even drop a comment if you're feeling generous, it really helps with the motivation side of things a lot!

#dream of the endless x reader #sandman x reader #morpheus x reader #x reader #smut #my shitty shitty writing (affectionate)

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leupagus · 3 months ago

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So I've noticed a trend in the Pitt fandom

And it is not a trend unique to the Pitt by any means, let me be clear! But it is a tiring trend, and one I'd like to see a bit less of, because as someone who's been in fandom spaces for over thirty years, I can attest that such trends can make your fandom experience really, really unpleasant.

It is the trend of the Condemnatory Vaguepost:

Like this one.

The Condemnatory Vaguepost is a post which points out perceived shortcomings in some amorphous "you" or "they" within the fandom while the OP mocks/belittles/otherwise insults (note the "y'all truly amuse me" and "trying to be Woke" and "control yourself a bit please" comments) from a place of presumed moral superiority. A moral superiority which, it has to be pointed out, is never proven or even alluded to. We are supposed to take OP's moral superiority as read because they have identified a "bad thing" that people are doing.

And guys, I've got a recommendation: instead of engaging with people or work that inspires posts like this? Just block them.

Block the people who have takes that annoy you. Block the people who make snide comments about the headcanons you treasure. Block the people who make headcanons you find annoying or problematic or just plain gross. Block me, if this post pisses you off! Block anyone who makes you clench your teeth as you scroll past their posts. You do not need them in your life; you should not want them in your fandom.

"But Gus, decrepit fandom elder," I hear you cry, "what if these people who annoy me have subsequent Content that I cannot then access? "

I have good news for you on that front! They won't. They may well offer valuable contributions to the fandom as a whole, but here's the thing: if you're willing to write a whole post about how these kingdon shippers/robby apologists/etc are stupid/bigoted/etc, then you personally will be annoyed by them even if they make a really great fancam or art or fic or meta, and that will drain all the enjoyment out of whatever it is they contribute. And if you think, "No, I could get over that," then perhaps rethink the value in making these kinds of condemnatory vagueposts at all.

"But Gus, nefarious fandom crone," I hear you cry, "how then can I hope to change the hearts of minds of those I think are doing Bad Things and thinking Bad Thoughts about the characters on The Pitt?"

I have bad news for you on that front! You can't. You will never — and I mean never — win anyone over, or inspire them to change their minds with this kind of behavior. A mel/frank shipper who reads the quoted post is not going to feel shame and remorse for that fic they kudosed last night that made Abby out to be some sort of suffering saint who was relieved to be rid of Frank, only for Mel to fix him with her magic vagina. That mel/frank shipper is instead going to be mad, and hurt, and not for one second think that OP meant to do anything but anger and hurt them. (Which, as far as I can see, is a perfectly justifiable reading.)

And let us be honest with ourselves: the purpose of these posts isn't to change minds. It's to get a little zing of pleasure from telling other people they've done something bad. It's the tattletale impulse we all have, to either appeal to a higher authority and get someone in "trouble" or to simply gloat over our own purity of mind/spirit/body. I've been watching a lot of "Cadfael" lately, and let me tell you, Brother Jerome is within us all.

I don't know that this trend is getting worse — it's been rife in every fandom I've been in, and as I said above, I've been guilty of it myself. (In fact you could argue that I'm still guilty of it, by making this post. Certainly I've lived long enough to look back with shame and regret for a LOT of my behavior, spanning multiple fandoms. My moral superiority here is located somewhere in the Mariana Trench.) But it is startlingly strident considering that this is a new fandom, without any previous franchise (unless you count ER) and which has brought together a huge variety of old fans, new fans, young fans and returning fans. We haven't had the years or decades needed to establish the sort of unspoken rules of what is Just Not Done within the fandom yet. So it's honestly bewildering to see so many different ideas and opinions and preferences being expressed, side-by-side with posts about how those ideas and opinions and preferences are obviously in violation of some standard.

And all of it, all of it, is happening because we watched a TV show about hot doctors and we wanted to talk to someone else about it. That's all a fandom really is — a group of people coming together to discuss a shared interest. And a pretty nerdy one at that.

Tl;dr — we're all at the devil's sacrament, maybe we don't have to point fingers quite so gleefully.

#the pitt #I've been sitting on this idea for a couple weeks because there are a LOT of these posts floating around in this fandom #and I'm sure the people who post them are good people but I don't want to interact with them #so I block them #and I highly recommend anyone who comes across one does the same #it's a big wide world you don't have to make time for the ones who make your fandom life more irritating #and yes to all my friends who are going to see this and go #'...bruh really YOU are lecturing about this?'#point taken #but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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queen-of-signs · 5 months ago

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Decode the Universe: Why astrology and tarot are the ultimate power couple! #2

Gemini - May 21- June 20 - Jupiter / Mars / Sun in Gemini

Jupiter in Gemini - The Lovers - "Love is an adventure… and so is keeping up with my DMs."

Jupiter in Gemini people talks a lot and love to have deep convos. talks all night and spends a lot of time on their phone.

Quick thinkers and great at debating.

They know everyone....and their crush.

Wants a partner that's intelligent and won't place much importance to physical appearance.

They always have a story to tell. Everyday = New Story.

On the flip side, If Jupiter is afflicted, they might fall in love fast and could be having commitment issues. Can be a walking contradiction.

Mars in Gemini - The Magician - "I can do anything!" (And probably too many things at once.)

These people are a pro in manifestation. says it, does it, wins it.

Fast thinkers and would give you witty comebacks in 0.3 seconds.

They are a multi-tasking wizard.

If they are a salesman, could sell water to a fish.

These people don't run on coffee. They run on ideas.

On the flip side, if mars is afflicted, they could start 10 projects at once and finishes 1. Impulsive AF. They either overestimate or underestimate themselves. Master of distractions. That's not lying, that's strategic wording.

Sun in Gemini - Knight of Swords - " I Think fast, talk faster, act before thinking—what could go wrong?"

Sun in Gemini people : their mind moves at lightning speed and mouth moves even faster.

Even if they don't know what they are doing, they are always one step ahead of you.

These people argues in circles for fun.

Loves learning and each of their convo is like a TED Talk.

Sharp wit - insults you so clever and you say "Thank You."

On the flip side, if sun is afflicted, they speck before thinking. overcommits to their partner. Speedruns life, crashes hard. Restless AF.

Cancer - June 21- July 22 : Venus / Mercury / Moon in Cancer

Venus in Cancer - The Chariot - "Ride or Die, but Make It Emotional"

Venus in cancer people are determined in love. If they want you, you’re theirs.

Protective AF. Romantic and strategic. These people exactly know how to win you over.

Armor outside, marshmallow inside.

Emotional powerhouse and will literally move mountains for you.

Passionate and driven and chase love like it's an Olympic sport.

Deep connection or nothing. They are not shallow. Feelings first, logic… somewhere in the trunk.

If Venus is afflicted, they could become an emotional speed racer. Goes from "Hi" to future spouse in a day. Low-Key manipulating and guilt trips others. Hold grudges forever.

Mercury in Cancer - The High Priestess - "I know what you’re thinking… and also what you’re hiding."

These people read others vibes like a book. They are secret-keepers.

Intuitive AF. 99.9% of the time their gut instinct is true.

Grandmother energy in a young body. Soft-spoken yet powerful.

They are a walking memory bank. Never forgets anything.

Thoughts are deeper than Mariana Trench.

If mercury is afflicted, they could be Passive-aggressive AF. Revenge? Marinated for years. Hides their true intention. Selective silence. Knows tea but won’t spill it.

Moon in Cancer - Queen of Cups - "I felt that… and also, do you need a hug?"

Moon in cancer people are emotionally genius. They know your mood before you do.

They are healers. Crying? They got tissues, tea, and vibes.

Gives mom hugs, no matter their age.

Soft but strong. Don’t mistake these people kindness for weakness.

Romantic AF. Could give you handwritten notes, love letters, sews clothes and all of it.

If moon is afflicted, they could be overly - emotional and could give you the silent treatment. Hold onto the past. Mentally still in 2015. If moody, they wash the dishes loudly.

Next post, I will write about Leo and Virgo. Stay tuned!

Curious about your birth chart and what it's really saying about you? 🌟 Slide into my DMs for a personalized astrology reading, and let's unlock the secrets of your stars. ✨ Don’t forget to check out my pinned post for pricing details! 🔮 Let’s make those cosmic connections happen! 🌙🌌

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firequeenofficial · 7 months ago

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So, I was inspired by Evil Anvil's incredible Limited Life song and the angst demons took a hold of my body. Enjoy!

He wasn't supposed to remember.

This was the first thing Martyn Littlewood realised as he spawned into Last Life. He wasn't supposed to remember. No one else did. Ren certainly didn't. The others had all forgotten.

All except Grian, he noticed, who still looked at Scar with a mix of pain and longing and anger.

And Jimmy, who looked at Scott like the sight hurt him.

The winner and the loser. They were the ones who were supposed to remember. They were the ones meant to be blessed - or cursed - with their memories of Last Life.

Not him. The Hand. The Listener. Sixth. It wasn't even a number worthy of remembering.

But he remembered.

As laughed with Jimmy and Grian and Mumbo and Impulse, Martyn made a vow. He couldn't get his King to first place last time. This time, he would not fail.

He got his king to final four. Final three. Final two. If he'd been better, if he hadn't fallen in that hole, if he hadn't been swarmed by mobs and killed alone, maybe he would have succeeded.

He definitely was not meant to remember. When he spawned into Double Life, only Scott and Jimmy and Grian remembered. He could see it in their eyes.

Martyn wondered whether Grian remembered because he'd won Third Life. He wondered if Scott would remember Double Life after winning Last Life.

Only time would tell.

This time, he decided, as Scott and Cleo walked away, and he pushed Pearl away for no reason other than he couldn't bear to give his heart to another. This time, his King would win.

He couldn't tell him. Ren didn't remember Third Life - he pretended that didn't hurt like callouses from a diamond axe - and he couldn't risk Them finding out he remembered and wiping the memories.

He brought Pearl into his and Ren's fold because she was a powerful ally, but even that wasn't enough.

Grian. Of course it was Grian who killed his King. Of course, of course, it was actually BigB who died, forcing Ren to die as well, like twisting in the knife that Ren wasn't actually his, not anymore, probably never again.

Except, sometimes, when Martyn was half looking the other way, he thought he saw... something in Ren's gaze. Not quite memory, more recognition. Like Ren realised there was something, or had once been, and couldn't put his finger on it.

Then he'd turn fully and meet his King's gaze and it was gone.

The Hand pretended it didn't hurt.

He made it to the final four once again, but this time, Ren wasn't with him.

The first thing he noticed in Limited Life wasn't the remembering - though that was a close second. No, as soon as he spawned, he saw, felt, the absence.

Ren wasn't there.

Except.

Except that he was. Martyn still fought to win, unable to hold himself back, but in the midst of it all, Ren was still there, guiding his every decision. The Hand still swung his sword at his King's command. The Listener still looked up at the Wolf's howl. The banner of Dogwarts still hung from his seaweed belt.

He fought, and he fought, and he fought. Until, finally, he made it to the end. It was him and Scott and Impulse. The final three.

Throughout the hours he felt he'd wasted, he'd found himself drawn inexplicably to Scott. He understood Jimmy and Pearl and Cleo now. He understood why they'd followed him so readily. If he didn't have his King's voice in his ear, he may have done the same.

"No armour, no shields," Impulse was saying.

He heard Scott chuckle humourlessly. "So we're just going to fistfight. Like our forefathers, Scar and Grian."

The words echoed in his head, pulling him back before he could stop it, straight to the Game that had held his head and his heart for three thereafter.

Suddenly, he was standing in the desert with his King, staring up at Scar and Grian's desert stronghold.

"Filthy desert hippies," Ren scoffed scornfully.

"What would you have me do, my lord?" They both knew Martyn wasn't talking about the men living up on the sandy hill.

Ren turned to him, his face hard with determination. "Those who have wronged us, Hand."

Martyn thought of their banner burning in Scott's base. He thought of walking on to a battlefield with Impulse on the wrong side, at Cleo's shoulder. He knew what his next orders would be.

"They will pay the ultimate price."

"I don't wanna play this silly game!"

Back in Limited Life, he was moving. He got rid of Scott first, his biggest threat. If Scott opened his mouth, Martyn knew he'd struggle to do what needed to be done. So he tossed lava on him and let him be, burning to ash in seconds.

"I wanna do it this way, I wanna do it exactly this way!"

Then he turned to Impulse, who was shouting. This wasn't the plan, what was he doing, he had to stop.

But there was no stopping the Hand. Not when he had orders. Not when he had revenge to deal out. Not when Ren was calling, "On with it, me laddie!" in his ear.

"Doesn't matter if you're a Mean Gill or a Bad Boy or a Neighbour or a Clocker!"

Impulse was dead.

He was alone.

"None of these niceties!" he announced to no one and everything. "This is a death match for a reason!"

He turned to glare up at the sun. He pointed a bloodstained sword up at it. At his shoulder, his King smiled.

Martyn blinked.

Ren wasn't there. He still wasn't there.

And Martyn still remembered.

But this time, he'd already won. This time, there was nothing ot fight for. He found he didn't care anymore.

When Scar died, Martyn didn't feel a thing.

And then Ren was there.

His presence upon spawn was so strong, it hit Martyn like an arrow to the chest.

Ren was there.

Suddenly, he cared again.

He gave up on beating about the bush. He grabbed Ren from the moment they swam or sailed away from the starter island and he held him tight the entire game.

He got Ren to the end. Martyn wasn't there, but he'd gotten Ren there. The final six. Five. Four.

And then Pearl.

It felt like a punishment, like a punch to the gut. No matter what he seemed to do, it was never enough. Ren couldn't win.

As he sat in the void and watched Joel drive over to the rest of them, Martyn Littlewood, Hand to the Red King, made a vow.

Next time.

Next time, Ren would win.

#Not my best work but I still like it #Martyn #inthelittlewood #Ren #rendog #Treebark #Third Life #Last Life #Double Life #Limited Life #Secret Life #Wild Life #mine #Ashlley writes #Evil anvil #life series #This song is so so so so cool #Never gonna be normal about it I swear

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venusphoriia · 1 year ago

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— The Second Act

;; ₍ # ₎ ⁀➷ Clarisse La Rue x Aphrodite! Reader

─ loving you is her greatest weakness, but also her greatest desire.

cw ཿ⠀ afab! reader. wlw. 377 word count.

�� a/n ; a quick one, proofread a little. current trying to get out of a writers block. my requests are open and i hope you enjoy (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃♡︎

She wanted to abandon you. She wished to rid herself of this weakness. Selfish and prideful, her thoughts had prayed for salvation from what, in her eyes, was considered a curse.

But her heart knew she could never forsake you.

With love brought vulnerability—a sort of weakness that she loathed as if it was her sworn enemy from birth. The hunger for glory and acknowledgment often clouded her judgment. Impulsiveness was her payment and discontentment was—more often than not—her price. Time and time again, a test was set and again she failed. Nonetheless, the lesson repeated, each one more tribulating than the last. Yet, still her stubbornness remained unshaken—her pride, her very shield.

She tried to ignore the way her mind would linger towards you at any given moment, no matter how small the reminder. Her gaze always drifted towards you, her eyes chasing yours for any sign that you may feel the same. Even when she was forced to face the fast beating pace of her heart at your nearness, she dismissed it as superficial attraction.

Even now, as her glare hardens and her fist tightens as a poor attempt to contain her anger—she refuses to acknowledge it. The bitter ache in her heart as she watches you laugh with another. Your eyes are teary with joy, the smile on your lips never faltering for a second. You love him. The thought—fear—causes a bitter taste in her mouth as she forces herself to look away.

She wanted to ignore you. To convince herself that what you two had was nothing, but a small diversion to keep her entertained. Admirable is her stubbornness, but distasteful is her prideful desire to constantly be perceived as strong—it’s borderline toxic. Still, like all others before her, the nonchalant act begins to crumble. Her wants, wishes, and prayers fall on deaf ears and she can ignore it no longer.

She has fallen. The favored daughter of Ares, God of war and courage, has completely fallen for a daughter of love and beauty. The stage has been set, the second act begins. Driven by a new sense of yearning and desire—a new goal to be accomplished, she plans to win you back by any means necessary.

For it’s what her heart demands.

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #pjo tv show #pjo #oneshot #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse pjo #clarisse x you #clarisse x reader

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janus-cadet · 1 year ago

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This card is brighter than the one I usually do- might even be the most colorful of the whole deck, so far! Which- fitting. Today, let's welcome Charlie Morningstar and Vaggie, double figures for the Ten of Cups!

(Now usually, the card also have one or two more people on it; I thought about adding Pentious, but our snake should have his card soon enough. Therefore, it's just the girls.)

Explanations under the cut, as well as a poll for the next card to draw, and the rest of the Hazbin tarot cards!

Upright, the Ten of Cups embodies happiness, joy, and emotional contentment. You have created an abundance of love and happiness in your life, and you now share this love with others, expanding your heart even more. This fits Charlie and what she created with her hotel, supported by Vaggie- together, they are the start of it all. You are now surronded by your loved ones (it's a fucking happy day in hell!), with whom you share a powerful and deep connection. You support one another, and you help other to reach their highest potential- on the path to redemption! Most of all, you do it because seeing others happy is the greatest joy you could have. It's the "happy family" card by excellence, as well as a positive card for romantic relationships- you're in a blissful one, if that's what you're looking for, to the point you may believe that you ar soulmates destined to be with one another (I do love them, mh, mh). When the card appears in your reading, it's time for you to take a step back, and appreciate everything you accomplished. You went through hard time, but look at that! You can do this, now we know it, and you actually did. Follow your heart, says the card, and follow your inner sens of Good.

Reversed, the card brings more subtility. You can see the Upright reading as mostly Charlie's idealistic view on the hotel and on redemption; but with the reversed Ten of Cups come the struggles. You may feel disconnected and disengaged from your loved ones, like your estranged father and your missing mother. You try to connect, but each times, something goes wrong, and the distance between you grows. Why does he forgets everything you say? Can't he pay attention? Why is he not calling more often? Or maybe you're afraid to trust, and you're keeping some secrets close to your chest. You don't open up enough, and you create, without meaning to, a distance with others, with her. You're too rash and too impulsive, but you mean well- surely, they can see that? It may have an impact on your relationship; you need to realise that nothing is perfect, and every relationship has its ups and downs. The Ten of Cups invite you to seek out a common ground with your loved ones, and rebuild the relationship from there. Talk to your father about why, exactly, he's so reluctant to help; talk to your partner about who you are, and where you came from. Open the lines of communication and be ready to hold space for one another. Be compassionate, understanding, and respectful. The card can also mean that you're starting to doubt yourself, and what you are doing. Is it really worth it? Are you up to the task? Are you letting other people down? You have to rethink those questions. Think about what makes you happy, what you believe in, and bring back your focus to that.

And that's it for today! I'm planning to do at least three more Hazbin cards- if the fixation does not die by then. Not that it shows any sign of slowing down, oh boy- they are all so fun to draw, too!

Anyway.

And with that, Hazbin Hotel verse is the most represented fandom in my whole deck of cards, right before Doctor Who. Ah!

If you have read this far- well done. So proud of you. You win a peach cider, if you're even able to drink this abomination. And paf, the rest of the cards!

#digital art #my art #tarot project #ten of cups #chaggie #charlie morningstar #charlie magne #vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #vaggie x charlie #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel #chaggie fanart

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zenithofstories · 10 months ago

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so i've just finished watching all the first episodes, so i wanted to give my thoughts on the first Wild Life session:

-so much fun i love it so much. i'm so glad they're all still having fun and continuing the series, and that Mumbo and Lizzie came back, despite dying early in Secret Life (i was a tiny bit worried they might get a bit dejected and pass on this one). also thrilled Ren is able to play this time; he's a blast

-there is a lot of mistrust going around which is very curious to me. most of it stems from previous seasons and has no bearing on what was happening at the time. Pearl straight up telling Cleo she expected her to betray her; Mumbo and Skizz not trusting Martyn, and then Grian; and then not trusting that Martyn just wanted to use their enchanter; the huge immediate aggression towards Scar when he came out of the mountain into Grian, Skizz and Mumbo's base; Mumbo not trusting Skizz (his teammate!) when he asked for someone to pass him a diamond; Scott, Cleo, Pearl and Impulse assuming Joel stole their cows, probably more i'm forgetting. it's definitely obvious to me that these people have learnt how the games work and learnt from the pain (as we do). i'm very curious to see if the general server mistrust grows, and the impact it has on everyone and the people

-i love JImmy, Big B, Lizzie and Ren forming a dnd party and Ren (in true bardic fashion) has a guitar within reach and is willing to break into song at the first campsite (this honestly might be my favourite moment from all the life series at the moment. the guitar within reach, Ren's beautiful voice, how much the others thought it was great. fantastic vibes all around)

-i really want Scar and Martyn to team up. they are both instantly mistrusted, to the point that both of them (in their first episodes, no less) expressed that if people are going to treat them like a villain, then they may as well act like it. if the two of them team up to take revenge on everyone being mean to them in a new series i think they would be a force to be reckoned with

-Skizz and Mumbo is a fantastic team-up. both very genuine people who are so funny together

-i hope they get the lag fixed, or that it was just from the size-changing mod and they don't have to deal with it for the rest of the series

-Gem and Joel's partnership - in the early days Gem is going to be a fantastic counterbalance for Joel; help keep him calmer and curb his wild ideas. But once Gem gives in to her own urges... oh boy

-does Big B know that he can go caving with people? cause he seemed to be under the impression that he had to get geared out before he could make friends and it would suck if he ended up alone all the time because it hasn't occurred to him that he can go caving with people right at the start

-double life thought: i know most people count Pearl as the winner, but did Scott technically win as well? cause they were the last pair alive, and died in the same tick. it probably doesn't matter at all, but i wonder about it sometimes (especially in how it would affect Martyn's lore but that's not canon)

-i don't think Jimmy has broken the canary curse. i subscribe to the theory that cause Lizzie died in the End, the Watchers weren't able to perceive it and then he was the first to die in the Overworld (i'm not counting Real Life as canon; it happened and i enjoyed it but it wasn't a full series and they were deliberately playing it silly as an april fool's joke. very glad that Cleo won though. hope they get a full series win as well)

-i'm glad that Tango and Skizz (deliberately) didn't team together, but i kinda wish Tango had ended up in a different group. him, Etho and Bdubs are fun, don't get me wrong, but a whole lot of the fun of the series is seeing people interact and work with people they don't usually. Tango and Jimmy was a top tier pairing in Double Life, and Tango is hilarious. i would love to see him branch out more and work with some more people

-there is more than just the wild card. Grian said he wasn't going to explain it, and i didn't notice anything else happening (but i'm also not expecting it to be much until they get to the late game). i think that there will be a wild card that affects the players, and then also something that affects the world? we'll see, i guess

-now that everyone who has played is playing (i'm pretty sure? if i've forgotten someone i'm gonna be sad) who is gonna sub in if needed?

-i love Mumbo's "that was sub-one intelligence mate" when they all fell 🤣

-i'm not sure what the purpose of including the creakings or whatever they're called? nevermind i just looked it up and they're going to be in the game at some point. weird. i'm not sure how i feel about creakings coming to minecraft though

-very glad they've got six lives this time. it will both allow them to not worry so much about mistakes and accidents (as evidenced by Pearl) and encourage them to take risks, which will be fantastic

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ktarotttt · 19 days ago

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Can you see if some enhypen members even did something sexual with fans in secret? like after a concert or something...?

… this one was requested. and i genuinely didn’t think i’d get much from it, but the cards said “you sure about that?” 😭

just a reminder this is alleged, for entertainment and intuitive purposes only. not facts. not claims. just… what the cards showed me.

disclaimer:

i did pull with specific members in mind, but i’m choosing not to put names on this one. because i know how y’all get. and i’m not trying to fight in my inbox over a hypothetical spread.

so here’s what i got — in no particular order.

ten of swords reversed

this person gives “i’ve done some dumb shit, but we’re not gonna talk about it.” not necessarily slept with a fan, but may have gotten too close for comfort once. definitely has regrets or messy situations that they’re trying to leave in the past. could’ve been a close call. if im being honest it seems like this person may have slept with a fan, maybe even genuinely liked/trusted a fan, but the fan ended up betraying them in a bad way. idk if it was like, threatening to release things or photos or texts. but whatever they allegedly did , has this member like “never again…ever.” big regrets.

four of swords reversed

this one feels like a “maybe once” energy. like they broke their own rules just one time, and then never again. gives restless, impulsive, and we don’t speak of it anymore. not proud, but not beating themselves up either. might’ve thought “i’m grown, who gon’ check me?” and then realized they’re famous and went ghost.

page of swords

this is curiosity, not action. definitely the type to scroll, watch, wonder — maybe even flirt — but not actually follow through. he’s thought about it. has definitely seen fans he found attractive. but this one doesn’t move unless it’s safe. too much to lose. literally probably keeps all their thoughts to themselves too. page of swords can also represent social media for me, so maybe they see pretty engene’s on social media like … damn she bad asf. but then then remember the dynamic.

judgment reversed + death

judgment is a card of inner reckoning within yourself and your life circumstances — self reflection, etc. but reversed, it typically represents someone who the light is trying to reach, but they’re in denial about their decisions and refuse to learn their lessons. death is obvious — unavoidable change, even if you keep running, it will happen because it has to. a version of you has to die. so i would say this member definitely has done it, and refuses to see the wake up call telling them to chill out. but they may have to learn the lesson the hard way.

playing advocate, try is could also being the member changing and realizing it’s not the wisest thing, but also refusing to really acknowledge it properly. idk ahahah.

nine of cups

this is the most obvious yes in the spread. nine of cups is wish fulfillment, indulgence, doing what feels good. no weirdness, no deep shame. they wanted to, so they did. maybe the fan was hot, the vibe was right, the moment made sense. this card says pleasure. it felt like a win. no regrets.

the chariot

i originally thought this might be a yes because chariot is forward movement and determination. but honestly? this is someone focused. they’re on a mission. even if the opportunity came, they stayed locked in. too disciplined, too sharp, too aware of the risks. this is a “no, and never will be” type of energy. they are a pro at fighting the urge if it ever came up.

five of pentacles

this person doesn’t even think in that lane. could feel disconnected from fans or just emotionally unavailable in general. five of pentacles is rejection, loneliness, feeling outside the circle. maybe they don’t feel as desired, or they isolate themselves so much that there’s no opportunity to begin with. either way — this is a clear no.

#kpop tarot #kpop tarot readings #enhypen tarot #enha tarot

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 2 years ago

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Push the Sky Away - Part Three

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Lorra Stark) Chapter warnings: Mild angst. Smut. Word count: ~6.7k

Summary: Aemond writes a letter and makes a thousand mile journey.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Lorra,

Since we are parting ways, perhaps forever, I feel I must unburden my heart. You are the fond object of my affection and my desire. You, and you alone, are the keeper of the key to my heart. Please don’t be alarmed -– I don’t expect your favour -– but I can’t, in good conscience, not reveal myself.

I do not wish for a betrothal -– nor will I -– unless it is to you. Since the moment I laid eyes upon you, it has always been you.

With love, Aemond

Aemond casts his eye over the ink as it dries on the parchment, a hot wave of embarrassment flowing through his body and flushing his cheeks. He has never spoken so plainly with regard to his feelings before, though he has never had such strong feelings to express until now. He quickly rolls it up, before he has the opportunity to change his mind and cast it into the fireplace, sealing it with wax and ordering for it to be sent by raven to Winterfell straight away.

The days pass without word from Lorra. Each of Aemond’s visits to the ravens’ tower end in disappointment when he finds no reply from her. Barely contained rage causes him to clench his hands into fists, stalking away from the maester every time he is told that nothing has arrived.

He wonders if his letter arrived in Winterfell before she did, if perhaps the lack of her response is due to her not yet having had a chance to read it. He ponders on whether he had chosen his words carefully enough, if he could have made his feelings clearer. Will she return to him, or grace him with a letter of her own? As the days bleed into a week, and then another week after that, Aemond’s frustrations simmer to despondency as the sad realisation dawns upon him that Lorra has no intent of writing back to him.

“Your mother asked that I give you time, and I feel that we have waited long enough.”

Otto’s voice rouses Aemond’s attention from the flickering flames of the hearth that he has been staring into, lost in thought, and he turns his head watching as his grandsire settles into the seat across from him.

“It has only been a fortnight since Lorra left King’s Landing,” Aemond replies quietly, returning his focus back to the fire.

“Yes, and almost half a year that you have wasted on a failed courtship,” Otto shoots back, his tone sharp. “Time is not on our side, Aemond. You must marry before the King passes, to strengthen Aegon’s claim to the throne. I intend to write to Lord Baratheon to–”

“I do not want a Baratheon girl!” Aemond hisses, head snapping towards Otto, eye wide and nostrils flared in anger.

Otto sighs in frustration, shifting in his chair. “What you want is of little consequence. You will take your dragon, once I have dispatched a raven, and you will fly to Storm’s End.”

Aemond draws in a breath as the realisation of what he should have done two weeks ago dawns upon him. He gives a slight nod, his eye meeting the weary gaze of his grandsire.

“Yes, I will take Vhagar. But I will fly North to Winterfell.”

“That is reckless.”

“I can win back the favour of the Starks. Without recklessness I would not be the rider of the world’s largest dragon.”

“An impulsive act that cost you dearly.”

“Yes, my impulsivity may have lost me my eye, but I shall not allow my own inaction to lose me the woman I love.”

Aemond rises from his seat, walking towards the door. In his mind the matter is closed.

“And what if you fail?” Otto calls after him.

He stops momentarily, bowing his head as he considers Otto’s words, then turns to look at him over his shoulder. “If I fail then I will accept whoever you choose for me to wed.”

The journey North the following morning is one of the longest that Aemond has ever taken on dragonback. Even wrapped up in riding leathers, he can feel the bite of the cold at his flesh as he leaves behind the temperate climate of the Crownlands, his body shivering as his gloved hands grip tightly to the reins of Vhagar’s saddle.

Usually Aemond leans into the ebb and flow of the weightlessness that he feels while in flight, but all sensations are dulled by the racing of his heart. No journey feels like it is long enough for him to prepare what he intends to say when he eventually faces Lorra. Will she be prepared to see him, or will she simply turn him away? The idea of the latter causes dread to gnaw at the pit of his stomach.

He glides in a slow circle above the fortress of Winterfell, scoping out where best to land his mount. There is no way he can land close to its walls due to Vhagar’s size. It is insult enough to the Starks to arrive uninvited, without the claws of his dragon causing their walls to crumble.

Satisfied that he knows the layout of the land, Aemond brings Vhagar to land on a grassy embankment on the southern facade of the castle, dismounting and making the rest of the journey on foot.

It is early evening as he approaches, and he is met at the gates by several members of Winterfell’s garrison, their man-at-arms demanding he state his business. Unsurprisingly, there are no Starks present to greet him, but his dragon has doubtless been spotted and alerted them to this arrival.

“I am Prince Aemond of House Targaryen. I request an audience with Lady Lorra Stark,” he states simply.

He is escorted to the Great Hall, disappointed at the absence of Lorra as he enters. Her father, Rickon, is seated alone, his gaze stern as he looks upon the Targaryen Prince. Rickon does not stand to greet him, the informality taking him aback as the garrison bustle out of the hall, leaving just the two of them.

“I hope you will forgive the lack of formal greeting,” Rickon says gruffly, “the raven carrying news of your arrival must have been waylaid.”

Aemond swallows thickly, clasping his hands behind his back. He had not expected a warm reception from House Stark, however, this appears to be outright hostility.

“My visit is unplanned, my Lord, and I apologise for the intrusion. I will speak plainly, I have travelled to Winterfell with the intention of resuming my betrothal to your daughter. I had hoped to speak with her.”

Rickon scoffs, his eyebrows raising slightly. “If I could, I would send you back the way you came. However, it is not my intention for the people of the North to fall foul of the Crown, so I am obliged to offer you the hospitality of our House. You will dine with us this evening and leave upon the morrow.”

Aemond’s heart sinks, fearing he has failed before being given the opportunity to redeem himself, and he has not even laid his eye upon Lorra yet, let alone been allowed to speak to her.

He is shown to his bedchamber, changing out of his riding clothes into more appropriate attire for dinner.

As he enters the dining hall, he freezes, feeling his throat run dry as he spots Lorra seated at the table. In their time apart he had forgotten just how beautiful she is and the sight of her is enough to steal away all the air from his lungs.

“Come, sit, eat,” her mother, Gilliane, beckons from her seat beside Lorra.

Cregan and Rickon flank one side of the table, while Lorra and Gilliane are sat at the other, leaving the only available spaces at either end of it, either next to her mother and father, or Lorra and her brother. Aemond opts for the latter of the seating arrangements, hoping it will give him an opportunity to speak to her.

“I hope the food is to your liking. We were unaware we were to have a Royal visitor, otherwise we would have prepared something befitting a Prince.” Gilliane tells him with a tight smile.

Once again, Aemond is reminded of his intrusion, feeling the tips of his ears burn with embarrassment. He forces himself to look at her, keeping his tone polite.

“It is a fine spread, my Lady, you have my thanks.”

He lowers his voice, inclining his head towards Lorra. “The food is of little importance to me, I wished only to see you.”

“And now you have,” she replies simply without looking at him.

Her response is like a dagger to Aemond’s chest, he recoils slightly, opening his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it. There are a thousand things he wishes to say to her, but not in the company of her family, and so the rest of the meal passes in slow, uncomfortable silence.

When they retire for the evening, Aemond seizes his opportunity to talk with Lorra alone as she walks back towards her quarters.

“Wait,” he calls after her, striding ahead of her and standing in front of her to block her way. “Did you get my letter?”

Lorra sighs. The expression upon her face as she looks up at Aemond makes his heart ache. She looks tired and sad, and the guilt he feels at knowing he is the cause seems as though it may swallow him whole.

“I did. Pretty words, though they are empty and expressed far too late.”

Aemond’s stomach drops into free fall. His fingers twitch uselessly at his sides, eager to reach out and stroke the soft skin of her cheek, to comfort her. Though she is standing before him, it feels as though a chasm stretches between them, she has never felt more far away.

“Is it too late?” He asks quietly.

“You are leaving tomorrow.”

“Give me one week. A week is all I ask to win back your affection, to prove to you I am a man worth marrying.”

“I gave you six months!” She cries frustratedly. “I am not prepared to waste anymore of my time on a man who does not know how to love. I have no interest in a match that is purely political.”

“Nor do I, not anymore, and I will prove it to you. One week, please.”

Lorra bows her head, toying with her fingers for a moment as she thinks, before looking back up at him. “I shall give you three days.”

She steps around Aemond, walking away and leaving him alone in the castle corridor.

As hard as he tries, sleep will not take Aemond that night. It is not the chill of the Northern air that robs him of rest, as he had anticipated, the hot springs upon which Winterfell is built keep the castle surprisingly warm. He is exhausted from the long journey, and yet his mind will not quiet long enough to allow sleep to take him.

He has just three days to prove to Lorra that he is worthy of her. His station alone is not enough, a royal title is of obvious no concern to the Starks. Aemond has spent his entire life believing that duty alone is sufficient, that love in a marriage is a fanciful, unnecessary component. Lorra has challenged all of that – for her, it is a requirement – and it terrifies him, not the change in mindset itself, but how readily he is willing to accept it.

Aemond drifts off eventually, awakening to the metallic clash of blades outside his window. He rises slowly, groggy with fatigue and walks towards the sound, watching quietly as Lorra and Cregan spar together in the early morning light of the training yard below.

He smiles softly as he looks upon her, noting how quick she is. She is steady with her blade, yet light upon her feet. Though they had trained side by side many times at the Red Keep, he was always too preoccupied with the movement of his own sword and opponent to appreciate her skills fully. Immense guilt washes over him as he remembers how poorly he had treated her the first time she had asked to spar with him.

Now he has the opportunity to remedy that. Aemond dresses quickly, making his way out into the courtyard.

Cregan and Lorra come to a stop at his approach, eyeing him carefully as they lower their weapons.

Aemond gives a polite nod to the elder Stark, before turning his attention to Lorra. “My Lady, would you care to train?”

“I already am,” she says cooly, earning an amused smirk from her brother.

“With me,” he adds, straightening to disguise his discomfort.

“You wish to spar with me? I thought such things were beneath you.”

“I was misguided, allow me to correct the error of my ways.”

Lorra looks questioningly at Cregan, who gives an easy shrug. “Blades are over there,” he nods towards an assortment of weapons propped against the stone wall of the yard as he walks away.

Aemond snatches up a sword, walking back towards Lorra as she takes up a fighting stance. As he takes in the fire that blazes in her bright blue eyes he wonders if perhaps he has made a grievous error in judgement. Challenging the woman he has wronged to a fight would give her ample opportunity to exorcise her vexation, and he half expects her to simply run him through with her blade.

“I am not a child,” Lorra breathes heavily, the flat of her sword pushing back against Aemond’s as she blocks his attack. “You will not appease me with a disingenuous attempt at feigning interest in me.”

“A thousand mile journey is far from disingenuous,” he retorts, side stepping as she swipes at him. “You took the time to get to know me, and I have the genuine desire to do the same for you, though the time I have puts me at a disadvantage.”

Lorra scoffs, dodging as Aemond strikes forward, meeting the resistance of her blade once more.

“You fight well,” he tells her, stepping closer, his chest heaving with exertion. “Visenya Targaryen was said to be a fearsome warrior queen, I dare say even she would be impressed. A trait I would be proud for my wife to possess.”

She blinks rapidly, lowering her gaze and her sword as she steps back, light pink dusting the pale skin of her cheeks. “Flattery will not work upon me.”

Aemond finds boldness in Lorra’s sudden coyness, dropping his sword hand to his side, he closes the gap between them, crooking the finger of his free hand beneath her chin and tilting her face up to his. “Are you certain of that?”

He smirks when she says nothing, and pulls away to place his sword against the wall.

“Come with me,” he tells her, gently grabbing her arm and pulling her along with him towards the gates of Winterfell.

“Where are we going?” She asks with wide eyes as her steps hurry to keep up with his lengthy strides.

“To do something I should have done months ago,” he replies, never slowing his pace.

They pass through the gates and around to the south facade, icy wind nips at their skin and Aemond regrets his impulsive decision for a moment, wishing he had given them both the opportunity to don a coat before heading out, but he supposes in a moment it will not matter, not with the warmth of what he is to show her.

Vhagar is exactly where he had left her when he first landed, though she is now curled up in a sleeping position, the vast expanse of her having squashed the long grass around her completely flat.

Lorra slows, hesitating as the hulking frame of the dragon comes into view and Aemond looks back at her, his grasp slipping from her arm to her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Do not be afraid,” he reassures her, “when you are with me, Vhagar is no danger to you.”

Lorra shakes her head, though she does not pull her hand from his, a gesture that causes Aemond’s heart to soar.

“I am not afraid. I just do not understand the meaning of this.”

“I mean to introduce you, something I ought to have done in the first place, but I foolishly refused. Vhagar is the most important thing in the world to me…well, she was, now I find that someone else occupies that place in both my heart and mind.”

Lorra’s face softens, her big, blue eyes filled with uncertainty as she looks between Aemond and the sleeping dragon.

“Come,” Aemond beckons her forward as he resumes walking. “She is most docile when she is sleeping.”

The air turns humid from the heat that radiates from the great, slumbering beast as they approach her, and Aemond rubs a hand across the hardened heat of her scales, earning a gentle rumble from the dragon which gently quakes the ground upon which they stand.

“Does she not get cold? I cannot imagine the North is a suitable climate for such a creature,” Lorra says, staring up in wonder at Vhagar.

“She is fire itself,” Aemond explains softly, “she is not fond of the cold, but she is able to keep herself warm. Here–”

Aemond takes Lorra’s hand, feeling it tremble beneath his own as he presses it gently against the dragon’s scales, encouraging her to stroke them.

Lorra giggles, continuing to run her hand across them, even after he has pulled his away. “She is not as soft as I expected her to feel.”

“Hmm,” Aemond agrees, watching with a faint smile. “She is old and battle hardened.”

“What will you feed her while she is here?”

He grins, a faint chuckle escaping him at her question. Heat spreads rapidly through his chest at the care that Lorra shows for Vhagar, enquiring after her comfort and wellbeing.

“She is large enough to feed herself, too big even to house within the Dragon Pit of King’s Landing. I have never had to feed her, she fends for herself well enough. I daresay whatever sheep happened to be roaming here have met their end at her appetite.”

“My father gave me a direwolf pup when I was a child,” Lorra tells him, as she continues her absentminded stroking. “When he was old enough to fend for himself, I released him into the forest. It did not seem fair to keep such a creature cooped up in the confines of a castle. Direwolves are not like dragons, they cannot be controlled.”

“The idea that we control the dragons is an illusion. They obey because they choose to. My bond with Vhagar is the only reason she listens to me.”

Lorra turns, her eyes meeting his. “Is there anyone that you are bonded with strongly enough that you will listen to them?”

“No,” he whispers, leaning down so that his nose brushes against the tip of hers, “at least not until now.”

She blushes, turning her face away. “We should be getting back, but thank you for this, truly. I shall not forget it.”

Though Lorra had declined to kiss him, Aemond’s hope feels restored as he sits beside her at the supper table that evening, stirring his spoon through a steaming bowl of rabbit stew.

“We should go hunting tomorrow,” Lorra says to him with a bright smile.

“Making the Prince earn his keep?” Cregan asks with a chuckle.

“If luck is on our side, we may be able to serve Aemond’s favourite for supper, he is fond of roasted venison.”

Aemond sips his wine to hide the smile that tugs at his lips that she has remembered such a detail about him.

“Do you hunt?” Cregan asks Aemond, raising an eyebrow.

“I have never needed to,” he responds simply, doing his best to ignore the feeling of shame that washes over him as Lorra’s brother regards him with narrowed eyes.

“You will need more than luck if you hope to fell a deer between the two of then,” Cregan scoffs, returning his attention to his stew.

“We do not have to go, if you do not wish to,” Lorra tells him apologetically.

“No, I want to,” Aemond insists. “Even if we are fruitless in our endeavours, the time spent with you will not be wasted.”

She grins at him. A dazzling, brilliant expression that lights up her entire face, and makes Aemond’s heart squeeze in his chest as he realises just how much he has missed the sight of it.

Aemond walks Lorra back to her chambers later that evening, stopping as they reach the door.

“Well, I suppose we both ought to get some rest. We have an early start tomorrow, if we are to go hunting,” she tells him.

“It is still early,” he reminds her, “and I have only three days. It would be foolish to cut the first of them short.”

She raises her brows in surprise at this. “What are you suggesting?”

“I thought perhaps you would permit me to come inside so that we can talk for a while? I promise not to overstay my welcome.”

Lorra chews her lip in uncertainty as she considers his offer, before nodding. “Very well.”

Aemond looks around as he walks through Lorra’s chambers, he has never been somewhere that is so personal or intimate to her, and is eager to learn what he can of her from the space. The rooms are decorated with soft furnishings in greys and pale blues, the colours of her house, with ornately carved wolves’ heads and figures upon the shelves that house her books and personal effects. It is clear she is proud of her Stark heritage, just as he is of his Targaryen ancestry.

He casts his eye over her bookshelves, until his attention is drawn to the parchment upon her writing desk. He recognises it as the letter he had sent to her, picking it up as he reads the familiar words he’d written weeks before.

“You kept it…” he utters softly.

“I did,” Lorra confesses, seating herself on the edge of the bed.

Aemond allows the note to flutter back down upon the desk, turning to face her. “Can I ask, what had you planned to do?”

She sighs, fingertips plucking anxiously at the cotton of the bedspread. “Truthfully, I do not know. I wrote back to you countless times, but tore all of my letters up before I sent them. They were filled with hateful, angry words, which I know I would have regretted.”

Aemond nods, though it pains him to know she could ever think such things of him. “And how do you feel about me now?”

“You have made a good effort to redeem yourself, though I would be lying if your rejection of me back in King’s Landing does not still hurt. I am ashamed to admit that I wept most of the journey back to Winterfell. I had not expected you to come all this way just for me, but I am glad you did.”

Cautiously, Aemond steps towards her and, seeing no sign of protestation from Lorra, sits himself beside her on the bed. “It pains me to know you believe your feelings are unrequited. I should never have let you go.”

“Then why did you?”

Aemond presses his lips into a tight line, a wave of unease washing over him. His first instinct is to pull away, to tell her he does not wish to speak of it, yet he knows if he is to have any hope of winning her back he needs to speak openly.

“When I was a child, I watched my father break my mother’s heart more times than I care to count. The irony of it is that theirs was not a marriage borne of love, yet he managed to hurt her just the same. I swore to myself that I would never allow myself to be placed in such a situation, that when the time came I would do my duty, and matters of the heart would not interfere. Then you came along, and you changed my perception of everything that I believed to be true.”

“That is not a bad thing,” Lorra says softly.

“No it is not. But I have lived my life keeping a comfortable distance from others, I always have. I was content in my loneliness, or at least I thought I was. It is disarming to have someone enter your life and feel that you are willing to risk the comfort found in solitude just to keep them at your side. I have never longed for anyone, and yet when you are not near me I find myself looking for you. I did not know what to do with that.”

“And do you now?”

“I am willing to learn.”

Softly, Lorra cups Aemond’s face in her hands. His eye flutters closed, leaning into the warmth of her palms.

“Will you let me in fully?” She whispers. “Let me see all of you?”

He feels her fingertips creep up his left cheek, gently tapping at the leather of his eyepatch, and lurches backwards, heart pounding.

“It would frighten you.”

“I do not scare easily,” she reassures him, placing her hands back upon his face. This time he does not pull away, though he sits rigid as he allows her to lift the patch away from his head, keeping his seeing eye downcast as he holds his breath, fearing her reaction.

Her touch is featherlight as she traces the scar that runs the length of his face, and when he dares to look back up there is warmth in her gaze, where he had anticipated disgust.

“You are beautiful,” she murmurs.

Shock paralyses him momentarily as she leans in, pressing her lips to his, but he is quick to recover. His fingers thread themselves into the silken ebony of her hair as he kisses her fiercely. The soft plushness of her lips feel every bit as divine as they had the first time, his cock stirring in his breeches as their mouths part enough for his tongue to brush against hers.

Lorra presses her forehead to his when they finally break for air, both breathing heavily.

“We really ought to sleep,” she tells him quietly, “tomorrow is an early start.”

“Oh…yes, of course,” he utters, a hint of disappointment in his voice as he rises, preparing to return to his own room.

She grips his arm, stopping him. “No, stay, please.”

Aemond’s pulse races at the suggestion, yet he nods all the same. Stripping down to their undergarments, they lay snuggled together beneath the blankets. It is an odd sensation to hold someone; she lays with her head upon his chest and his arms wrapped around her. Aemond has never done this with anyone before, but he finds that he enjoys the sensation of her flesh against his, her warmth is comforting. Pressing his nose into her hair, his nostrils fill with the familiar scent of rosemary and lavender. Sleep comes much easier to him that night.

As she had promised, Lorra ensures they awaken early the next morning to ready themselves for a day in the forest. They each take a crossbow and a quiver of arrows, though Aemond is uncertain of how much use he will be with his. His disfigurement leaves him at a disadvantage when it comes to the use of ranged weapons.

“I am assuming you can ride a horse?” She asks, as she leads Aemond to the castle’s stables.

“I am not as proficient as I am on dragonback,” he admits, “but yes, I can ride.”

“I have had the stable hand saddle Cregan’s steed for you,” she tells him, stroking a gloved hand over the velvety snout of a large, black horse. “He is more even tempered than any of our other geldings and less likely to throw you off.”

She winks at Aemond as she walks towards her own mount, and he watches with a smirk as she climbs into the saddle of a strikingly white mare.

“Her name is Nymeria,” she tells him proudly. “Cregan’s is named Rhoyne.”

The ride through the forest is peaceful, their horses trotting at a leisurely pace, side by side, beneath a blanket of deep green fir trees so thick that Aemond almost cannot see the sky above them.

“Your Baratheon girl must not be pleased that you are here,” Lorra says eventually, glancing over at Aemond with a demure smile.

“I have no Baratheon girl,” Aemond tells her.

“Oh?”

Aemond tightens his hold on the reins of his horse, his posture stiffening slightly. “It is…regrettable, what you overheard between my grandsire and I. The truth of the matter is that he had intended to send me to Storm’s End to petition Lord Baratheon for the hand of one of his daughters in marriage. I refused.”

Lorra laughs softly. “He cannot have taken that well.”

“He was not pleased, no. I came here instead, on the promise that I would secure an alliance with House Stark.”

She says nothing, averting her gaze towards the trees, and they continue to ride in silence. Aemond glances at her every so often, hoping to catch her eye, but to his disappointment she is always on the lookout for game, or is at least pretending to be. The quiet hangs heavy between them, the only sounds are the gentle hoofbeats of their mounts and the distant chirping of birds.

“I know it is not ideal,” he tells her, no longer able to bear her silence, “to have this obligation hanging over us, but it is my duty. But I need you to know, I am not choosing you out of duty. To have you in my arms as I did last night was no easy thing for me, and it is not something I take lightly.”

“I know,” she says softly.

“Do you think that joining our Houses is even possible? Your father and brother do not seem fond of me.”

“Lords of the North are not quite so tyrannical over their daughters as they are in the South. My father and brother are wary of you because they are aware you have hurt me. But my father will respect my decision and pose no opposition to an alliance with your House, if I choose to marry you.”

“So, you accept?”

Lorra laughs, rolling her eyes. “I said if.”

They lapse back into a more comfortable silence, though there are no deer to be found. Aemond can feel his teeth begin to chatter, despite how warmly he is dressed, he has not acclimated to the chill of the air of the North. It nips at his skin, feeling as though it seeps into the very bones of him.

“I think Cregan had the right of it,” Lorra sighs, “we are to have no luck today. I expect our chatter has likely frightened off any deer we might have hoped to see.”

“Do you wish to turn back?” Aemond asks hopefully.

“You are cold. Fortunately, we are close to one of my favourite places to warm up.”

Aemond’s curiosity is piqued, and despite the cold that stiffens his joints, he continues to ride alongside her, until the trees clear, revealing an opening in the side of the rock face.

Lorra dismounts from Nymeria, securing her reins to a nearby fir tree, and Aemond does the same for Rhoyne.

“In here,” Lorra gestures towards the rock face.

Aemond’s brow furrows, but he follows her in regardless, immediately enveloped in warmth and darkness alike, the furs and leathers he is wrapped up in suddenly feeling much too hot. He picks his steps carefully, walking slowly behind her until light from an opening above them beams daylight down upon a steaming pool of vibrant blue water, nestled within a basin among the craggy stone.

“Hot springs,” Lorra tells him happily, unfastening her cloak and allowing it to drop to the ground. “It is the best defense against the cold while out on a ride.”

She begins to undress and Aemond freezes, his first instinct being to look away, but he finds that as more of her flesh is revealed to him he cannot keep his eye from her. Desire flickers hotly in his lower belly as he looks upon the swell of her breasts, the inwards dip of her waist, and the curve of her hips as she peels her clothes away from her body, dropping them to the floor, before stepping into the water.

He is taken aback by just how brazen she is, unashamed as she turns, once submerged up to her thighs, and looks at him with a grin.

“Are you going to join me, or just stand there gawping?”

Aemond’s eye widens, he opens his mouth to speak, but finds no words will come to him.

Lorra giggles. “Shall I turn away?”

He clears his throat, shaking his head. “N–no…”

His breaths come shakily as he disrobes, wishing to get it over with as quickly as possible. Once fully bare, he steps into the water, his lack of modesty almost forgotten with the sigh of relief that leaves him as the heat of the water soothes the ache of the cold in his joints.

“You forgot this,” Lorra tells him, stepping towards him and reaching for his eyepatch.

“Wait.” He grabs her wrist, stopping her. “I need to know…if you have not decided if you wish to marry me, then why are you doing this? Sleeping in the same bed with me, bathing together. If this is all a game to you, then I can go no further.”

Lorra lowers her gaze, pursing her lips. “I do want to marry you, my feelings have not changed. But I cannot accept that you have changed on words alone. I need to see that you desire me as a husband desires their wife, I need to know it is real.”

Aemond pulls away his eyepatch, discarding it to the side with the rest of his clothing, and pulls her to him by her waist. He inhales sharply as he feels the softness of her dampened skin meet his. “Is this real enough for you?”

The ends of his long, silvery hair are beginning to form loose waves due to the humidity, and her fingers reach up to stroke through them.

“Do you think you could grow to love me?” She whispers.

Aemond’s thumbs trace lazy circles against her sides as he gazes down at her, carefully considering his words. “I am not certain I know what love is. I think of you often, I crave your presence when you are not there. I feel a sensation akin to physical pain when you are sad, and your happiness serves to elevate my own. Perhaps that is love? And if it is, then I believe that I already do.”

Lorra smiles, her blue eyes shining as she looks up at him. Her hands press gently against Aemond’s chest, pushing him back to sit on a ledge, submerged in the hot spring, where the water rises to just above his navel. She sits astride him, the brush of her thighs and womanhood against him making him painfully hard. His breath hitches, as he clings to her waist like a lifeline.

Her fingers caress his jaw gently, and she kisses him softly, their lips meeting slowly and tenderly in an unhurried gesture of affection.

“I would marry you tomorrow, if I could,” he utters against her lips, “wed you beneath the heart tree in your godswood, in the tradition of the Old Gods.”

“Really?” She sighs as Aemond presses his lips to her throat, his hands sliding from her waist to travel up her torso and palm roughly at her breasts.

“If you wish it, once we are married we can return to Winterfell and do just that.”

“Mmm…I would like that.” She tilts her head back as Aemond lowers his mouth to her chest, capturing a hardened peak between his lips and suckling gently.

Aemond has never desired anyone like this before, though he has never cared for anyone in the way that he cares for Lorra. He craves her touch, the need for her making him feel as though he teeters on the very edge of madness.

He removes his mouth from her breast, an appreciative groan rumbling in his chest as she begins to roll her hips against his, and his lips capture hers once more, gripping her hips to urge on her movements against him.

If he had known she would feel this exquisite, he would have barred the doors of the Red Keep and forbade her from ever stepping foot outside of it.

He pulls away, breathless as he stares up at her. “I want to marry you in the tradition of Old Valyria too. Once Aegon is King, and our ancestral seat is returned to us, we will travel to Dragonstone and do just that.”

“What does that involve?” She asks huskily.

“We shall wear the traditional robes of Old Valyria, red and white, and you will have a beautiful headdress.”

He pauses, eye fixated upon her as she raises up slightly on her knees, causing him to hiss through his teeth as she grasps the length of him, positioning him at her entrance. His stones tighten, mind going utterly blank, rendering him speechless, as the tight heat of her sinks down upon him, his fingertips push into the flesh of her hips hard enough to bruise.

She stills once seated fully upon him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Keep going,” she urges, “tell me more.”

“We will use dragon glass–ah, fuck!” He screws his eye shut, hips bucking up to meet hers as she moves against him.

“Use dragon glass to what?” She asks teasingly, her pace never faltering.

Aemond swallows thickly, the pressure building at the base of his spine almost too much to bear. “To…to slice against our palms...the blood that spills is collected in a cup which we will drink from.”

Lorra whimpers softly in pleasure, the rise and fall of her hips becoming more urgent, causing the water to lap in gentle ripples against their bodies. Aemond snarls at the increase in pace, pressing the flat of his palm tightly against her lower back, as he buries his face in the crook of her neck.

“Is that all?”

“No…” Aemond’s voice is strained, struggling to get the words out against the haze of pleasure that overwhelms him. “We will use the same dragon glass to cut our lips, the resulting kiss in addition to the combined blood we have consumed serving to bind us together forever.”

“If that is your wish…”

“Yes…bind yourself to me…”

Lorra gasps, her arms tightening around him as he feels her insides spasm around him in quick, successive pulses, her body trembling against his. He continues to thrust up into her, until the pressure within him gives way, causing his cock to pulsate as he holds her to him, spilling inside of her.

They remain as one, wrapped around each other in the steam of the hot spring as they each struggle for breath, slowly recovering.

Aemond strokes Lorra’s hair away from her face, running his fingers through it as he takes in her blissful, relaxed expression. In this very moment, he has never been more certain that this is love, and to experience what he has just felt makes him feel foolish for having pushed it away for so long. There is no doubt in his mind that there is no one else in the world for him, only her.

“So, will you?” He asks gently, continuing to stroke her hair. “Bind yourself to me?”

She gazes at him softly, a lazy smile upon her lips. “You have barely used two of your three days yet. I am sure there is lots more convincing you could do until they are up.”

Aemond smirks, tugging her against him in a tight embrace. That is an arrangement that he is more than happy to satisfy.

Chapter two || Series masterlist

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gabi-take-the-wheel · 3 months ago

Text

my personal spiral down the rabbit hole that is the prosenna tag on tumblr led me to read 'the power and the glory' by david sedgwick and. well. i had a lot of thoughts. well, mostly feelings, but they're still thoughts, and because i am an impulsive being with no self-restraint i am going to share them with the rest of you guys. expect a lot of rambling and incoherent sentences and jumbled rants that make no sense. may the forza be with you.

***

thots while reading tpatg alain: im kinda boring compared to ayrton hehe also alain: *forges weekend pass for funsies to pursue racing* babes pls bfsfr

sneaky little shit (affectionate)

i love how david consistently refers to alain as a "little french guy" like yes he is tiny yes he is smol yes you are mentioning it at opportunity given tf

not them never failing to mention his nose too like ok doja cat i see you

he is a nailbiter thats so cute

"Who could not possibly warm to a man who chooses to call his yacht Wet Dreams?" me tf

"Who is the Prost asshole anyway?" girl bye 😭😭

"Shit, I have to take care of this guy!" and just like that, prosenna was born

"Water, water everywhere" must be the water

senna after a rainy monaco race: i win! f1: um, i think tf not

i know people (read: ladies) thought senna was the shit back in the day but like that was kinda weird to read ngl

tyrell + the media: the french won the french race led by french people because of some french rando waving the flag so the french is to blame! ickx: im actually belgian tyrell: i dont give a FUCK keisha!

them: we call racism! prost: pls i just want to go home and sleep

"Alain Prost. That name again." yes ho the same guy you put up posters of on the walls of your childhood bedroom we know

"Had the driver not been able to extricate himself from the burning wreck, he might well have ended up a Brazilian marshmallow." this is funny to me im sorry

"That most residents are unable to distinguish a Nelson Piquet from a Nelson Mandela hardly matters." LMFAOOOO GET REKT

man f nelson me and my homies hate nelson (senna momentarily possessed me during this idk what to tell y'all)

"Rosberg, Alboreto, Lauda, Piquet, Mansell, they will all cross swords with the Lotus protégé in 1985, but there’s just one driver who Senna is gunning for, one driver that matters: Alain Prost."

cue that one The Office meme: OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY CALM (whats the procedure man whats the procedure?) STAY FUCKING CALM

senna documentary 2004: anything senna says, the opposite happens the power and the glory: anything alain says, it happens right so, alain, im gonna need you to say "senna is alive" so that the fcker will come back from the dead and i can interview him to filth with a stick thank yeww

elio: *wins grand prix because alain's car was underweight* wtf just happened

not ferrari ferarri-ing in 1985.

must be the water

'Alain giggles. Selina blushes. Others cringe.' others was senna and me btw

"It is not enough though. Only one thing will quench his thirst: to be acclaimed the undisputed king of his chosen sport, a title currently held by a certain Frenchman." my reaction to this was not in fact normal

"Ayrton Senna had just become public enemy number one." first time?

"When he predicted Senna would take ‘at least ten poles this year’, as usual Prost had been right on the money. Poles will come all too easily, wins less so." i love it when shit he says becomes real

"...back in the McLaren pit in company with that rarely seen creature, Madame Prost." MAMA PROST?!?!!? oh no wait its his wife. MADEMOISELLE PROST?!?!?

prost: i am the best, i am number one senna: and i took that personally

crazy ass nutting because the car felt good 😭😭 1988 equivalent of "shit so good made my dih hard" dawg what 😭 inchident #1

"‘It’s not fair! It’s not fair! It’s my turn!’ By now Ayrton is on the point of eruption." relax ho

mind games aint even start yet and he was already acting up

alain rein it in a bit hes boutta go feral

i need to remind myself that they hated each other's ass back in the day

"Enzo Ferrari is senile. Nigel Mansell thick, his wife ugly and Senna gay." DAMN i just started reading part two calm down 😭 senna is, btw, for prost i mean. the psychosexual obsession tag in ao3 is not there for show yknow

"Maybe they have also found their own worst nightmares: each other." strap on mfs this is where it truly begins

tpatg: there's rain in this race me: *immediately knows who the winner is* i take it back alain won HHAHAHHAHAHA

"Four years later, it still hurts." meanwhile prost absolutely dgaf abt that race bro LET IT GO

"I’m going to blitz him …" this ho's motto for life. what you gonna do when he aint on the grid no more, huh, kill yourself? ...too soon?

dawg everytime piquet is not having a good time senna possesses me and dunks on his ahh like pls stop hating vicariously through me bro 😭😭 like whens it gonna be alains turn to possess me 😔

"Three races into their partnership and already the two drivers are watching one another’s every move like a couple of eagles, worried lest the other man should gain even the slightest of advantages." ong they just don play abt each other 😭😭

that paragraph of piquet's yacht just casually inserted in the middle of a prosenna monologue felt like an "and bumblebee!" ahh moment

the girls are fighting

i know it aint so (tf is this miss yeehaw bad boy all the way across the fcking sky ahh grammar) but like i cant help but imagine senna speaking telepathically to his bestie berger in the back like 'mate i need you to defend tf against him pls its important shit like this give me an immense ego boost as well as an immense boner pls' and berger's just *thumbs up*

"I’m going to lap Alain Prost! At Monaco!" i just know his dih was hard the entire race. inchident #2

"Until an encounter with the Portier corner, that is." the ho just had to one up his teammate now didnt he

ayrton: *in a fucking mental crisis* alain: :P ✌️

i cant believe i just addressed senna by his first name tf

me as i continue to read senna's parts in tpatg: *with dawning horror of the realization* oh no... oh no... he's just like me fr...

who i wish i was like: alain prost who i really am: ayrton senna i will be back within three business days... let me recover from this first

"As for the shining light at sea and the compelling urge to follow its aura into oblivion – that he keeps to himself." not the foreshadowing

on a much funnier lighter note that could've been alain chanting "pls crash pls crash pls crash pls crash pls crash' in his head and then it suddenly manifesting lmaoooo

"‘Psychologically, this was an important win for me,’ grins Prost afterwards." its all about the mind games for these hoes now isnt it

aw nostalgia <3<3<3<3

little man word count: lost count

idk the outcome of this race (yet) so im going to pretend that this is happening just now for me instead of 30 plus years ago, so im keeping my fingers crossed and hoping that alain wins or outqualifies senna at least lol.

im scared to read the next lines lmao.

"I have to be as close to perfection as possible because Alain is always like that too – close to perfection." bro just admitted in front of the whole wide world that alain is the shit. just say youre gay for each other, kiss and move on. god these two keep making me feel things

"‘So Senna says he has to be perfect because of me,’ smiles Prost in response. ‘I’m facing the same situation – I have to be perfect because of him. He wants the championship and he wants to beat me. No problem between him and me. He is quicker and I have no excuses, but honestly I don’t think he is that much quicker.’" i cant explain it but alain is giving it girl here like yas queen slayyy. i love my sneaky little psychological tormentor

"His objective is clear: break Prost’s heart in front of his home crowd." and his back— WHAT WHO SAID THAT

rahhh the girls are FIGHTING fighting ts giving me goosebumps i feel like im watching the race itself

lmao he forgot hes a mclaren driver. its giving carlos missing the williams pit in 2025

YALL TS MAKING ME NUT BRO IM PULLING AN INCHIDENT #1 ONG IT GOT ME SO HYPE

ron: economy mode! prosenna: f the economy i gotta put this ho in the wall first

its funny how nelsons much more interested in them fighting than in winning a race. its giving that one meme where two guys are beating each other up in the back and then one guy is just posing chill in front of them. nelson 'this is what i like to see!' ahh piquet

OH MY GOD HE TOOK THE LEAD OHMYGODOHMYGODOH MY GOD HOLY SHIT HOW MANY MORE INCHIDENTS AM I GOING TO EXPERIENCE

HE WON HOLY SHIT THIS IS THE NUT OF MY LIFE HE ACTUALLY DID IT VIVE LA FRANCE YALL KNOW WHAT IM SAYING LIKE no cus fr im actually getting insane goosebumps rn. tears in my alain prost eyes.

the last line of the french grand prix chapter: Round seven to the Professor. me: slay the first line of the next chapter, the italian grand prix: Prost is finished! Prost is a coward! me: wtf what the hell is this whiplash

if this book so much as mentions a 'wet race' i immediately think of senna, like you cannot lie he is the undisputed master of the rain fr

genuine question why is senna called a young pretender. what he pretending to be, straight? mb mb

"Can anyone stop Senna?" yes me lmfaoooo

"‘It’s over. Ayrton is the new world champion. He deserves it,’ declares Prost after his team-mate takes a facile victory in Belgium – his seventh win of the year." i know for a fact senna started giggling, twirling his hair and kicking his feet when he heard that

damn the number of times alain finished second to senna? i know bro mustve been on a power trip then. fck me i cannot get the idea of him having such an huge ego blast that he starts nutting out of my head. this is all haruchimaki's fault

"...back then, the world champion was decided on the number of wins not points." *immediately starts counting how many wins prosenna has*

"For the first time in a while, the Italian squad believe." was 1988 also the last time they believed? lewis is starting to throw a fit dawg someone save the 2025 ferrari

"...unable to accept being bettered by the younger, hungrier man?" ayo haha lets not insinuate now hold on

"They are hoping, praying for a miracle. Forza Ferrari!" literally the tifosi rn hahhahah

ohohh shit the girly's plotting. i love it when he does that dawg

"Prost can afford to smile: his team-mate has taken the bait." ooooh you devious little man!

not me praying for berger to win

God bless the french LMAOOOO

nah cus alain definitely manifested that, he was like, 'if im not the one who will take senna down today, at least please let it be another french' and it was another french HAHAHAHAH bless you jean-louis

"‘No problem,’ replies Ayrton. ‘I had enough fuel to last.’" i know alain is smiling behind his hand under the guise of biting his nails lmaooo a win is a win

"Not long after that infamous day at Monza where he played such an unwitting role, Jean-Louis will marry the ex-wife of tennis legend Bjorn Borg. Among the guests will be one Alain Prost." bro really said 'gotta pay my respects to my homeboy for ruining my rivals day' HAHAHHAHA

"...fumed a victorious Prost post-race before disappearing into the McLaren motorhome for a ‘chat’ with a very sheepish team-mate.'" oh so the ho actually knows how to be self-aware. this is so me i cannot— STOP SHOWING SIGNS OF BEING MY KIN DAMMIT for some reason though all i can think of is small alain going off at senna pissed off and all and then ayrton is just 'blah blah blah proper name place name backstory stuff' good material for the femprost fic im brewing in my head hehheheeh

"...but are Honda manipulating the outcome of the world championship?" nah its just alain manifesting. pop off queen

nobody hates the french more than the french

"Besides, Balestre has long been thought of as a little unhinged – a garlic-breathing megalomaniac who just happens to wear a blazer." so what that does make mbs?

"...sleep-deprived Prost..." probs the only time i'll ever relate to the guy 😭

"Where’s the fire? Answer: In Alain’s pants!" wtf i just flipped back to the tpatg tab on my laptop and this is the first sentence i see 😭😭😭

little man word count: still lost count. david just loves referring to alain as short now doesnt he. like we get it hes a short king but come on

"Race morning and the bright skies gradually start to disappear behind a cloak of grey. Perhaps this is the moment that Alain Prost knows the 1988 world championship will be heading for Brazil. On a dry track the Frenchman reckons he is more than capable of holding his own, but on a wet surface …" aw hecks nahh its a wet race even alain knows who boutta win this gp we're severely cooked.

something about the fact that senna is good at rainy races makes me feel giddy though idk i just think its pretty neat

"Not a chance in hell." oh shit its about to go down

"The rain is coming, so too a Brazilian rain master." shiiieeeet this made me hype idk why idk i guess i just love rain races and people who master them im sorry alain its just really cool that hes a pro at ts cant help it

yup its a wet race ayrtons obviously winning. guess im on a first name basis with him now. eh, hes sort of earned it

"I made a special effort to be close to Alain" i love taking sentences out of context hehehehhehe

im starting to think ayrton's kink is breaking alain mentally like that guy gets off that shit fr fr can confirm i am ayrton senna

"They all knew that Alain and I were fighting for the championship and I expected them to be nicer about letting us by, but no." my guy really said 'can you guys not im trying to beat the love of my life here'

bro just cry about anything, whether he loses or wins damn

"By turns swearing, weeping, choking, and babbling, their man has become insensible. As he rounds the final corner, Senna gasps in astonishment. There, filling the heavens, is the face of … Christ! The driver becomes hysterical. F***! F***! F***! Both arms flung out of his cockpit, Senna finally takes the flag." he is so dramatic and so me i will never come to terms with this

"‘I would like to thank McLaren and Honda…’ begins an emotional winner, before adding archly, ‘for the big improvement in my car over the last two races.’" HES STILL HOLDING A GRUDGE this asshat i swear stop that youre being too relatable stop it alain pls come back im scared

"There is just one unoccupied seat – directly behind Prost. Senna sits down and proceeds to nibble on the smoked salmon. ‘Hey, you were so far behind me, I felt sorry for you …’ From the adjacent table, Alain Prost has swung around and now rests his hand on his team-mate’s shoulder, ‘… so I let you catch up!’ Much laughter. Senna smiles: ‘That’s very kind of you, because I was just about ready to give up!’ The two gladiators laugh. It is a rare moment of accord, one that will never again be repeated." i... no word for this moment tf? its giving george and max having to sit next to each other at the driver's dinner but george moves his chair far away, but neither of the two here did that obviously, they just sat next to each other. no seriously, the fact that ayrton's seat is directly behind alains? nah fate design ts fr. and they laughing at each other? they're actually sharing a smile and laughing? see me in the air rn boy. see me in the air rn. unbelieveble. and fym it'll never be repeated?? hecks nah man this shit give me the tingles it HAS to repeat. but then again its one of the most intense rivalries to date lets be fr

the number of times i had to give myself a reality check is insane

"No retreat, no surrender." the book of life reference (not i just had to say it)

its not enough for them to win physically noooo they just HAVE to win mentally too

"‘I wanted to win this one to prove a point,’ grins Alain as he and Senna embrace on the podium." THEY EMBRACED I REPEAT THEY EMBRACED I CAN NOW RETIRE IN THE ARMS OF MY BED IN PEACE

"... A watershed moment." what does this mean. is it going to be a wet race? david what does this mean?! help!

"Five years into the future, on a grim May afternoon in 1994, the circuit will bear witness to the sport’s darkest weekend." there was no need to drop this bombshell man come on i was just enjoying their rivalry

"He had been impulsive, they say. He needs to know when to back off, they say." he also needs to know when to stop being obsessed with his team mate like oml most of their spats is because he just has to beat him or he will dnf a nut come on man

"Indeed, on Friday afternoon the Amalfi coastline looks anything but a tourist haven as a band of black cloud appears, stubbornly refusing to return from whence it has come." ANOTHER WET RACE OH MY GOD i just love wet races man its the most entertaining kind of race ever

"It is Gerhard Berger though who snatches provisional pole in the dying moments of the session. Perhaps Ferrari are back in the game after all. Gerhard shrugs: ‘Too early to say. Let’s see.’" our humble king. live laugh love gerhard

"Ferrari have flattered to deceive. Last year McLaren scored a crushing one-two victory and there is every reason to believe that history will once more repeat itself." i was so engrossed in the prosenna battle that i forgot that there is also a wcc and was immensely whiplashed by this lmao

"We should not risk an accident tomorrow. Prost and I should make an agreement: not to cause an accident at the first corner. After the first corner though … The pact of San Marino is thus conceived. 'What do you think? Is it a good idea?’ Prost pulls on his overalls. He has to admit, his team-mate’s proposal makes sense, quite a lot of sense. ‘D’accord. We do not overtake until after the first corner.’ The two men shake hands. Whoever makes the better start come 2pm will have immunity – until the second corner that is." they... actually agreed??? on something?? crazy absolutely crazy i cant believe this is real

"Sunday starts with a bang – a literal one as Berger’s Ferrari catapults into the concrete wall at Tamburello at an estimated 170mph, bursts into flames and then proceeds to ricochet along the wall for a further 100 metres. Race stopped." im telling you guys that corner is evil. tamburello is cursed yall

senna went back on his word oh my god i am on the floor while my heart rate is in the air these two are trying to kill me istg

"The little man feels betrayed." i dont know what moves me to say aww about this, but aww. little alain throwing a tantrum. *deep breath* AYRTON I TOLD YOU TO STOP POSSESSING ME DAMMIT IM GOING TO CRASH OUT STOP IT

and embarassed senna makes a return. i swear hes doing it on purpose so that alain wold yell at him again. i know what you are. we kin after all. no i have not come to terms with it yet

"Ron Dennis can only look on impotently. The McLaren chief senses the stench of civil war in the air. Going on 18 months he has gone out of his way to keep both men happy – a trick that has required the diplomacy of Henry Kissinger, the patience of Mother Teresa and the psychological knowhow of Sigmund Freud." pov ron: pls God im not your strongest soldier pls knock some sense into these idiots pls

"I’m thinking of quitting for good,’ announces Prost." so pissy he’s about to quit. you absolute diva this is not the time to say periodt.

"Though ostensibly a test, today’s meeting is a rather elaborate marriage guidance session between his two superstar drivers, with Ron cast as marriage guidance counsellor." TS HAD ME SCREECHING AHAHHAHAAAAAAAAAA DAVID!!! DAVID KNOWS WHATS UP HE KNOWS THESE SNEAKY AHH BTCHES ARE BASICALLY AN OLD BICKERING MARRIED COUPLE WE LOVE TO SEE IT

Im scared for ron LMAOOOOOO i hope his marriage counselling works

IT WORKED HAHAHAHHA YOU SNEAKY HO HAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA GOOD OLD DENNIS TFFFFF his plan was to make them angry at him instead of each other and it. FUCKIN. WORKED. HAHHAHAHAHHAH OH MY GOODDDDD

Im commentating on their fighting like im watching a reality tv show what the hell lmaoooo. the divorce has begun.

DAWGGG THE DIVORCE. THE DIVORCE IS HAPPENING AAAA IM WATCHING IT ABOUT TO BEGIN AND IT HURTS NOT EVEN ONE SENTENCE INTO THE STORY AND ITS HURTING ME AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"‘I am very careful to control what I say,’ Ayrton tells the veteran journalist, ‘because I see the danger of damaging other people.’" bfsfr rn boy bfssssssssssssfr rn you aint been controlling sHIT in yo past seasons lets be honest

this is the part where he starts referring to him as frances baixinho lmaoooo

nelson’s still here? Lmaoooo i forgot he still existed lolol

hi jamesss

bro was losing so hard he thinks his only way out is by literally having an out of body experience im creasinggg

"Racing – winning – is everything to Ayrton Senna, almost." almost was not enough apparently he lives and breathes and nuts on that shit

oh my gad. he left. hes in ze ferrari. waeouw. supearb. i am now saying my prayers. hows senna doing.

dawg i feel bad for alain like im the one being beaten by senna pls ferrari work well for my guy before you start ferrari-ing again pls pls

oh theyre still teammates lmaooooo i thought alain had already left

"Prost rolls his eyes…" ok divaaaaa

"Poor Alain, so sad to see a great champion looking for excuses. A shame." poor alain is right babes stand upp quit moping and get to workk

oh my god whenever theyd go wheel to wheel im on the edge of my seat its like im watching a replay even though im not im just reading 😭😭😭

BOOMSHAKALAKAAA YES GAWDDD. YESSSS. im sorry ayrton but a win is a win. a win is a win.

…oop. he broke the trophy. relax!! you can get a new one made ron calm down. eughh i can feel alain’s sheepishness through my laptop screen grr. i can almost see senna smirking about small satisfactions and small victories in small battles, and, honestly, understandable, he's had a shite day

not the fisa adding fuel to the fire 😭😭😭

oh my god the next chapter is suzuka 89 😭😭😭 stop the planet im getting off

"‘So, when he retires yet again from the next race at Estoril, some fear for Senna’s sanity. ‘Who put the f***ing right-rear wheel on? Who?’" about damn time he starts getting pissy honestly

"Prost does not even figure in his calculations, not anymore." holy shit this is rare as fuck somebody write it down and take a picture

"‘Both men, believe you me, are driving on the very edge of their personal abilities,’ remarks James Hunt in the BBC commentary booth.’" AHHHH james you dont even know the HALF of it. asdfagaj ts got me scaling my wallss tffff

im scared i cant read im scared its the same with the french grand prix so im pretending it happens for this first time this year instead of 30 plus years ago somebody help

"‘Senna could lull Prost into a false sense of security,’ muses James Hunt, as prescient as ever. ‘He could then catch him unawares,’ adds the Brit.’" PERIODT!!! PE. RI. ODTTT!! OH MY GOD.

im scared for the next line oh my god senna is going to try something i just know it i swear if this is the part where they crash i will ascend good motherfuckin bye

"Had not Alain promised not to open the door this weekend?" dont count on it girl he motherfuckin hates you now dont count on it. theyre going to crash arent they? Shit.

and they crashed. i knew it. i. motherfuckin knew it. i *clap* knew *clap* it. I KNEW IT. SABIA. LO SABIA. i cant with these motherfuckers i swear

oh hes playing dirty rrr i love to see it. DONT EVER CALL YOURSELF BORING AGAIN ALAIN YOURE A SNEAKY LITTLE SHIT AND YOU KNOW IT

IT WAS GOING SO WELL TFFFFFF

AAAAAAAAAAA I CANT READ THE REST IM TOO HYPE RN IM GOING TO TAKE A SHOWER TO COOL OFF AND THEN COME BACK ISTG

(im back btches) HE DIDNT WIN HE WAS DISQUALIFIED RR. hooo okay we can calm down. neither won so im kinda disappointed but at least my heart can relax we can calm down ayrton is pissy ngl i would be too just kin things but i dont care we can calm down. God the hos werent lying this WAS their most heated moment. hooo gave me goose bumps fr so much i had to take a shower before continuing

"Senna v Balestre: the immovable object v the irresistible force." not ayrton always beefing with the french ho relax

"‘What the f***! This is ridiculous!’ Senna is on his feet, Dennis too. ‘Mr Senna, sit down! Sit down!’ He will not and does not. The driver is incensed. ‘You screwed me at Monaco and now you’re screwing me again!’ Accusations fly on both sides. With emotions running high, the hearing threatens to descend into chaos. Dennis and his legal team are taken aback: ‘Like preparing a case of shoplifting, and then being hit with charges of rape and manslaughter!’ says a shocked CEO of McLaren International. Judgement deferred.’" SHIT they fighting in the fia courts too 😭😭😭 the only thing im worried about though is the backlash alain is going to get for this im so scared for my queen somebody please protect him

"Given the vibes that had not been entirely unexpected." me when im reading tpatg

"‘They are treating me like a criminal,’ Senna tells the press, eyes moistening, the voice trembling." stop the whiplash that im getting this is where the media starts portraying alain as the villain isnt it? aw hecks nah man i cant do ts anymore. on the flip side, STOP DOING THINGS I WOULD DO DAMMIT SENNA PLEASE WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO RELATE TO EACH OTHER FUCK

"Nigel Mansell wades in too when he describes a ‘certain individual’ who has ‘got away with so much in the past and now it has come to a head’." nigel comin through my man thats my homeboy right there

"‘The sonofabitch blocked me!’ hisses the Brazilian. ‘He did it on purpose!’" i get insane whiplash whenever hed swear man

"Berger (and of course) Prost are adamant the race should not start and say just that." oh so now his bestie up against him too everybody just a senna opp atp

"While all around him heads are lost, Senna remains in his car with all the serenity of one who has found peace within. Now to put the plan into action." nahhh now im trippin immensely. he thinks of alain as such a sore loser when he is one himself. this is the craziest divorce i have ever witnessed to DATE

"Jenks also notes that F1 drivers are supposed to be amongst the elite, the best of the best. They are also paid more than enough money to prove as much. If that means racing in ‘diabolical’ conditions, then so be it." tell it to the past dead drivers’ graves bro, tell it to senna in 94. bfsfr rn man.

"1989 – F1’s annus horribilis – ends with Alain Prost as its world champion. Senna has to settle for the runner-up spot." i hate the shit we had to go through to get here, but a win is a win. a win is a win.

"Instead, he is consumed with Suzuka. It is all he talks about, night and day." and the ho is back to pondering. pop off ig senna.

"On the one hand the prospect of family life and marriage, on the other unfinished business in the world of Formula 1. He spends many days and nights in deep contemplation." contemplation of what, racing is practically in the man’s blood, sweat and jizz, i know the outcome of this contemplation

"And to think Nelson Piquet reckoned he was gay!" well he aint that far off ngl. that's probably the only real thing he ever said in his entire career.

"1990 is on. Prost v Senna III." aw shit. here we go again

"With a revitalised Frenchman declaring he feels like a ‘new man’, 1990 promises to be a vintage year." im sCARED. DONT JINX IT.

awww gerhard bless you such a sweetie compared to your monster of a teammate and his stubborn headed rival. YEAH THATS RIGHT IF THIS WAS A KINDERGARTEN I’D PUT BOTH OF YOU IN TIME OUT CUS THE BOTH OF YALL JUST DONT KNOW WHEN TO QUIT GODDAMN. im now mad at the both of them

"The FIA president laps it all up: ‘I would have come here on a stretcher just to annoy that lot,’ chuckles El Presidente, blowing kisses to a huge crowd of jeering Paulistans." no wait because who is this cheeky diva. he's problematic clearly but this was funny ngl. mohammed ben suckmydick could never

"The perception that Prost wins by default has haunted the Frenchman throughout his glorious career." nah cus same here pls this shit scares me ong

"Although well used to the attention, it is always a shock for this highly religious man to comprehend the effect he has on so many people. Often accompanying the letters are the types of photos that would make his mother blush. The messages, too, are to the point: My husband is away tomorrow afternoon; please I must spend just one afternoon with you … The half-smile. He selects another letter. This time the accompanying picture comes straight out of the pages of Playboy: I have loved you and only you forever. I want you …" nah cus the insane whiplash i got from reading this threw me off. there was NO need to put this in the book david. NO need.

pls let gerhard have a win pls i am taking a break from prosenna as i read this book because they are not doing wonders for my cardiovascular health pls bergie's a sweetheart let him cook

"All that hard work starts to pay off. Prost takes consecutive wins at Mexico City, France and Britain. Ferrari are on the move. Suddenly Senna’s world championship is under threat. As of Britain, Alain has 41 pts to Ayrton’s 39." shiet. i know i said id take a break but. shiet. dont tempt me. dont tempt me now ho dont tempt me.

"‘Will you guys ever bury the hatchet?’ The question comes from nowhere. A hush descends upon the Monza pressroom. A frozen stare from Senna, a frown from Prost. The question hangs in the air. Like a couple of sweethearts on their first date, the two men glance coyly at one another. Prost offers a nervous hand. Will Senna take it? Yes! Much to the delight of the media, the two men finally shake hands. The feud is over, for now. ‘We are both professionals who share the same passion,’ says Prost. ‘It is a start. And yes, I was moved by it,’ says Senna. So, friends again – at least for now …" NO BECAUSE I WAS FOUND ON THE FLOOR WHEN I READ THIS. I DIDNT EVEN READ IT PROPERLY, SKIPPED A FEW LINES AND ZEROED IN ON ‘SWEETHEARTS’. DAVID WHAT IS THIS WORDING. MONZA PRESS PEOPLE WHAT IS THIS QUESTION? DID YOU GUYS JUST MANAGED TO PULL OFF A LEGENDARY MYTHICAL TRUCE? I SAID DONT TEMPT ME HO I SAID DONT TEMPT ME NOW. GIRL I CANNOT. I AM READING THAT ‘LIKE A COUPLE OF SWEETHEARTS’ LINE OVER AND OVER AGAIN. SEND ME INTO CARDIAC ARREST WHY DONT YOU IT WOULD BE MUCH EASIER TO DEAL WITH THAN WHATEVER THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH YOU TWO HELLO????

hello james. hows it feel like to comment on this hellhole of a season.

"‘He [Senna] is a great driver,’ gushes Nigel. Ayrton repays the compliment. Prost’s reaction is best described in the words of Autocourse who note that the reigning champion, ‘looked as though he wanted to throw up over the pair of them’." its giving ayrton being immensely allergic to proquet in the 80s lmaooo. I know for a fact alain be complainin to elio’s grave rn.

"‘He [Prost] is very good at getting people on his side,’ adds a driver under no illusion as to his position in the Ferrari hierarchy. More tensions. Prost, for his part, suggests Nigel play less golf and spend more time in the garage." he’s just hella good at this psychological bullshit now, isnt he?

not suzuka again im boutta spin off the floor my god

"He thinks long and hard about many things: Balestre, the FIA, Formula 1, Prost, tomorrow’s race." uh yeah um uh question, how hard exactly? no i refuse to elaborate on hard thank you

"After several hours obsessing in the dark of his hotel room, he comes to a momentous decision: you work hard and try to do your best and they screw you. If Prost takes the lead at the green light tomorrow, I will take him out. Besides, he still owes the French driver for ’89." ah so EXTREMELY hard is the answer, got it. still refuse to elaborate

"Before he can continue, Senna is out of his seat. He cannot believe what he is hearing! Isn’t that precisely what he had done at last year’s race? Precisely why he had been disqualified! Precisely why he and Ron Dennis had been back and forth to Paris over the winter months arguing their case! Silence. All eyes on Senna." i know for a fact the rest of the drivers on the grid are eating the drama up

"If Prost takes the lead, I’m going to take him out." this race is going to shit isnt it. man these two cant just— gerhard? gerhard where are you? gerhard come pick me up im scared

"Prost opened the door ajar and Senna went for it. Déjà vu. Alain should have known better, and so should Ayrton. They’ve only got themselves to blame." FACTS tf these two just gotta gravitate towards each other every time they’re on track i cannot, not anymore im done gerhard come back here

"He is greeted by ESPN reporter John Bisignano, the man who routinely refers to a certain driver on the grid as ‘Elaine Proust’." this is funny though ngl this is how im going to refer to the guy from now on. on a more serious note has senna used this against alain and if he has how many times has senna used this against alain

"Nelson Piquet eventually wins a race described by Autosport as ‘one of the most tedious GPs on record’." once again i forget hes still here lmao im too engrossed in the prosenna rivalry lol

"When told of his former team-mate’s threat to retire, the Brazilian, usually a model of restraint, launches into an astonishing attack on his rival." this ho refuses to let him go dawg LET HIM GO. LET HIM GO— its his fucking life if alain wants to retire he will retire you can exist without him on the grid– okay, thats a lie, this is ayrton motherfucking senna we’re talking about here his entire life revolves around alain who are we kidding here why am i even fucking surprised tf

"Although nobody could have known it at the time, 1990 would prove to be the very peak of Ayrton and Alain’s bitter rivalry." please tell me this is a sign that it will start to mellow out

"Decisions, decisions. Such is the nature of Formula 1’s shifting sands, it only takes one bad call to jeopardise an entire career. Just ask Fernando Alonso." there was no need to dunk on the guy 😭😭😭

"‘Perhaps it won’t work, but we both want to try,’ announces a sober Brazilian, sounding like one half of a married couple." lmao i think we all know who the other half is. prosenna never beating the married allegations fr fr

not the ferrari ferrari-ing for prost. this must be what team lh must be feelin this year and what leclerc fans have been feeling practically all their lives

"Ayrton Senna has his third world championship in four years. Elation. Relief. Who could have guessed it would be his last?" not the foreshadowing again

"If you get f***** every single time you are trying to do your job cleanly and properly by other people taking advantage of it, what should you do? Stand behind and say ‘Thank you, yes thank you?’ No, you should fight for what you think is right and I really felt Iwas fighting for something that was correct because I was f***** in the winter and I was f***** when I got pole. I tell you if pole had been on the good side last year, nothing would have happened." aw hecks nah he’s popping off again i know for a fact ron regrets not media training him.

thank god he got sacked ferrari was going to shit anyway

"Prost catches the drift. A wholly French Formula 1 team. Hmm … where has he heard that one before?" lmao not the renault french civil war flashback

bro got fired because he was sassy af i love to see it like okay charli xcx play 365

there was a female f1 driver? dang, imagine the possibilities and opportunities this coudlve unfold… too bad she failed to qualify man :( i now have a new reason to be smad

"He is not the only one left cold at the news: ‘Just who does Prost think he is that he can walk into the best team of the day?’ asks an angry writer in Autosport’s letters page." ok ho, is you a driver? uh huh i thought the FUCK not btch okay square up

"Boom! A Budapest bomb erupts. Mansell quits!" a budapest bomb is right, cus what? wtf hes actually retiring. what do i do with this information?

"Mansell and third-placed Berger stare impotently ahead." they really said ‘we do not exist in here we will pretend we are somewhere else and ignore this raging idiot next to us we do not claim him and his energy’ lmaooo

"For once, the mighty one is wrong." well thank God

they just not never think about each other now, do they?

the girls are fighting once more and now the limits of my cardiovascular health are being tested. somebody pray for me. how they even managed to become friends towards the end of the year will forever be a mystery to me

hes like ‘idgaf man, sennas all the way in the back, this lead is just a bonus for me lol’

"Hasn’t he always believed in driving just as fast as it takes to win and no faster?" thats because his teammate was ayrton dawg, with senna there was a need to be fast, with damon, bless the guy, alain can relax. huge diff

"‘Boring’ says old sparring partner Niki Lauda, adding that ‘viewers can’t even keep awake long enough to switch off the television’." translation: prost domination be boring fans. welcome back king. also hey niki how you doin

"Post-race Alain’s anger is evident for all to see: ‘Just take a look at the video,’ growls the winner. A seventh win of the year at Hockenheim all but seals Alain’s fourth world championship." but he wins regardless ok let the boy rage

"While such tactics hardly endear him to the fans, it’s mission accomplished for one of France’s greatest sporting icons." WRONG it endears him to ME LETS GO ALAIN LETS GO

"They are going out in the same way they started, at the front, way ahead of their rivals." this gets me emotional oh my god for all of my slandering and hollering and hyping and cheering i will forever miss and cherish this rivalry dawg. prosenna you are very dear to me <3

"Lauda, Rosberg, Mansell, Piquet, Berger and more recently Michael Schumacher – great drivers and formidable foes each and every one, but Ayrton Senna has only ever had eyes for one driver, only truly feared just one man: Alain Prost." no because im actually going to tear up, this is so heartwarming to me tf 😭

"On the Adelaide victory podium all is forgotten. Senna hauls his rival on to the top step. His eyes are glassy. It all ends here. In an odd way he feels an emptiness, as if he is losing a part of himself today. All the rancour, the bitterness is swept aside; just Ayrton and Alain. Nobody else has ever mattered, not really. Embracing, it is as if both men sense that their eternal struggle has paradoxically brought them closer together, closer to an understanding of themselves. Neither man will ever step on to the Formula 1 podium again. It will be a last embrace. End of an era." and you’ve done it. im crying now. oh prosenna my prosenna you will be very dear to me. if i ever have a girl child im naming her prosenna i do not care i love them very much for all of their ugly fights and clashes and rivalry and murder attempts at each other you cannot deny that it was what truly made them special as well as entertaining nobody will ever do it like them ever again bro NObody fr

"All the rancour, the bitterness is swept aside; just Ayrton and Alain. Nobody else has ever mattered, not really." NO BECAUSE LET ME ZERO IN ON THIS THOUGH THIS LINE WILL FOREVER HAVE A PLACE IN MY HEART IM PUTTING THIS ON A TSHIRT

AHHHH THE PICTURE MONTAGE HAS ME ROLLING MY SHAYLAS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

awwwww niki and alain :((((

"Smiles were a rare commodity at McLaren during the Senna–Prost years. Here at the 1988 San Marino Grand Prix, the veneer was holding – just. © Getty Images" NO BECAUSE WHAT WAS THE CONTEXT BEHIND THIS PICTURE THO???? when i see alain in real life, because i will and he will live to 200 trust me, i will ask him about the picture.

"End of an Era: The 1993 Australian Grand Prix would prove to be the last time either driver ever set foot on an F1 podium." AAAAAAA MY SHAYLASSS AAA MY SHAYLAS I WILL FOREVER LOVE THEM

aaaaaaand i finished the book. all i have to say is, what a read, and, these two have been both the greatest comfort to me as well as the biggest pain in my ass. God bless the Prosenna rivalry, God bless David Sedgwick, God bless Alain Marie Pascal Prost, and may Ayrton Beco Senna rest in peace.

a more accurate description of my thoughts after reading the book would be ahsdyuaasocqagwuydgsygcygasuygayusdvyu qywe c8g w8fe wdycugsuydc uasg yua aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

***

and scene. thank you for your time.

#prosenna #alain prost #ayrton senna #classic f1 #the power and the glory #tpatg #me and my ramblings

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