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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years ago

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Playboy || PG10 {2}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader Summary: Your date takes a turn when you are recognised by a Street King. Warnings: 18+ only, illegal racing, bad language, blood WC: 2.3k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three

The week had seemed unnecessarily long but you weren’t going to admit it was because you were almost excited for Friday to arrive. It wasn’t like you to be the optimist, at least not since the break up, but you were quietly hoping Pierre could keep his word.

Work had been busy, as it always was on a Friday afternoon, but you battled through the exhaustion to finish your jobs and get home to shower and change into something nicer. With the weekend races kicking off at sundown, every driver wanted to make sure their car was running at its optimum, which meant a busy day for you. It didn’t seem to bother Pierre that dinner would be a late affair, in fact, not a lot seemed to bother him at all.

It was a refreshing change from the overbearing nature of Leo.

Your doorbell rang right on time and you laughed to yourself as you rushed to finish pulling on your boots, you clearly weren’t used to a man who showed up on time.

“Just a sec,” you called out as you grabbed your clutch, shoving your phone and wallet inside. You nearly forgot your keys but swiped them up from the kitchen table before opening the door. “Hey.”

“Hi, Beautiful.” Pierre knew your name, you had saved it on his phone for your contact, but he enjoyed seeing you battle to keep a smile off your face everytime he called you beautiful. Sometimes you won, sometimes you lost. “How was your day?”

You drank in the sight of him and let your eyes linger on his features a moment longer. The dark sweater fitting snug to his body left nothing to the imagination and from the tapered narrowing of his waist you knew there would be deep v lines cutting between his hips. That was your achilles heel when it came to men, and if they knew how to handle a fast car as well as an independent woman.

It looked like he was going to be a triple threat.

“Long,” you finally answered as you stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind you. “I have earned a stiff drink.”

He grinned as he held open the building’s front door for you and you saw the candy red Ferrari parked on the street.

“Now you’re just showing off,” you whispered in awe as you traced the sleek curves of the 812 Superfast with your eyes. “She’s a thing of beauty.”

“That she is,” he said with a smirk as he watched you almost salivate over his car. “The car is pretty nice too.”

“Very slick.”

He laughed at the roll of your eyes because you weren’t quite able to hide your smile that started to grow. “Here, I’m a much prettier face for the passenger seat,” he said as he took your hand and slipped you the key.

“Seriously?” Your heart thundered at the thought of driving the powerful car and you skipped across the pavement before he could change his mind, sliding into the leather seat with a moan. “Oh my god, I’m in love.”

You could feel his eyes watching you stroke the steering wheel and his deep chuckle of amusement rolled over your skin. “I could get used to this,” he said as he buckled in. “There hasn’t been a single insult thrown at me.”

“Yet,” you reminded him as you hit the start button and felt the V12 engine come alive. “Fuck me, that is an eargasm.”

“I would have thought you got to drive nice cars all the time, considering…”

“I work with them? I only get to drive them between the parking lot and the garage. If I’m lucky the dyno’s in use and I can do a road test.”

Pierre turned down the music that started while you put the car into drive. “I kind of meant your ex.”

“Oh,” you sighed. You found it was easier to talk about while you were driving, if you weren’t distracted by the car you would have just told him to shut up. There was something about most of your concentration being on the road that you forget the emotions attached to the conversation. “Girls aren't allowed to drive with the Kings. We can build the cars and fix them but not race. They, sorry. They can build them.”

“Sounds stupid to me.”

The city of Monte-Carlo really came to life at night as the colourful lights bars and clubs bled over to the superyachts illuminating the waterfront. Everywhere you looked along the street there were cars that rivalled Pierre’s, but they were driven by ancient looking men who could never appreciate the speeds the car could go without risking a broken hip.

“Where am I going?” you asked as you pulled up to a crossroads and came to a stop. The main drinking scene was one way, restaurants the other.

“Depends on how hungry you are,” he said as he cast a lazy smile your way. “Or, you can kidnap me and take me on a joy ride? At least that’s what I'll tell the police if you get pulled over.”

You revved the engine as you took off down the third road that led to the carriageway out of the city. “I’ve never been arrested before, it sounds fun.”

You couldn’t wait to reach the city limits but as you stopped at another intersection a blacked out Nissan GTR pulled up beside you. Pierre looked confused as someone tapped on his tinted window and he looked a little concerned when you put the window down for him.

“Thought it was you, QT,” Devante snickered as he looked past Pierre, not even sparing him a glance. “Haven’t you learned your place yet? Or have you got a bitch of your own?”

“Shut the fuck up, D,” you shot back before Pierre could retort. Devante was never the most stable guy and you didn’t want Pierre’s pretty face getting ruined because he opened his mouth. “The only bitch around here is the one driving a GTR.”

“You’re not Leo’s Queen no more, Trouble,” Devante reminded you with a dark laugh. “There’s no one left to protect you.”

“She doesn’t need protection,” Pierre laughed. “I’ve seen her take down a guy without breaking a sweat.”

Devante leaned out of his window and chuckled. “And who do you think taught her?”

“I hear you finally upgraded your turbo,” you said to distract the two before they could come to blows out the car window. “A shame you still can’t drive for shit.”

“You wanna bet on that?” he asked before tossing his head back with a laugh. “Oh wait, I forgot you, don’t have shit. You can’t even put Papa’s garage up…”

“How about my car?” Pierre offered, momentarily stunning Devante into silence before he grinned at the option.

“No,” you hissed as you looked at your date. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What?” Pierre dropped a lopsided grin your way. “Don’t worry, Beautiful, I’ll pay your bail if we get arrested.”

“Last time she raced, she got dumped, hard,” Devante laughed and your fists tightened around the steering wheel. “Queen T lost her crown.”

“I fucking won though, didn’t I?” you fired at him as you changed the car out of automatic and flexed your fingers over the paddle shifts. “Conveniently forgot to share that bit, huh. I kicked Leo’s ass, in front of you and all your little friends. Me, a girl. And I’m going to kick your ass too.”

“I’ll see you at the top.”

You pulled the finger at him as you put the window up and Pierre finally looked a little concerned at the situation. “So, uh, what did we just get ourselves into?”

“There’s no we, this was all you. You should have just kept your mouth shut.”

“And let him treat you like that?” he asked incredulously. “You broke a guy's hand for touching you, but you would have just sat there and taken that insult?”

“You don’t understand, these guys live by different rules. There’s no FIA and regulations here.” You revved the engine impatiently as you waited for Devante to make the first move.

“I told you I wasn’t like them, Beautiful.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that,” you murmured, it would have been easier to risk his car if he was the playboy you thought he was. “I hope you have comfortable shoes in case you have a long walk back.”

“From where?”

“Dog’s Head.”

“You’re the one in heels,” he pointed out.

You could see the GTR inching forward when you looked across at Pierre to grin. “You’ll be piggybacking me.”

Devante’s patience ran out and he was ready to give in first, his car taking off to pull out and take the left turn like you thought he would. “He always takes the easy route.”

You floored the accelerator and a whoop of elation filled the car as you felt the power of it throw you back into the seat and Pierre laughed at the sound.

The D37 was a longer route to Tête de Chien but there were fewer corners, something Devante wasn’t very good at taking in his car because he didn’t like to waste time braking. You had no problem taking the zigzags of the D53 up into the mountain range, especially in the sports car with a great brake balance, so you turned right and left him to disappear in your rearview mirror.

“You’re insane, you know that?” you admitted as you locked the steering with the tight turns and climbed higher above the city. “What if I lose?”

“I like this car so I’d prefer it if you didn’t, but if you do then I think that guarantees at least two more dates.”

You laughed at the unexpected answer. “You’d really want to go out on another date.”

“I already do. I haven’t had this much fun on one…ever.” You spared a glance to see he did look rather pleased with himself. “You really know how to show this passenger princess a good time.”

“Wow, you’ve definitely had a few concussions,” you chuckled.

“Ah, beloved insults, it was only a matter of time.”

“That’s not even an insult, that’s just a statement. I’ve seen your races and some of those crashes must have left some damage.”

“Not as much as this conversation,” he teased as he clutched his chest.

You made it past the last sharp bend and pushed the car quickly through the gears as you accelerated along the relatively straight road and saw the turn off to Dog’s Head approaching. Nervousness had your palms clamming as you wondered whether you had arrived first or not. Your question was answered when another set of headlights came into view ahead as you both reached the turn off.

You veered up the road that was only a gentle curve from your end but Devante’s turn was into a hairpin and you could see him punching his steering wheel as you sped past him with a grin.

“Holy shit,” you laughed as you came to a stop at the peak and met Pierre’s eyes, pride and lust clear to see.

You were giddy as you unbuckled your seat and leaned across the centre console, meeting his lips as his hand caught the back of your neck. His fingers tightened as he pulled you closer and your lips parted with a gasp, his tongue taking the open opportunity. You were so high with the win you could have climbed right into his lap but then the back windscreen shattered and you tore away from his hold.

“Motherfucker,” you growled as you pushed the door open, rushing out to see Devante spinning his car back around in another donut to shoot more gravel at the Ferrari. Paint chipped as the stones kicked up and you yelped as one caught your cheek, your fingers coming away with blood as you touched the tender spot before Pierre reached you and pulled you safely behind his body.

“Are you alright?” he asked as Devante took off back down the mountain. If you had lost he would never have left without the Ferrari but the double standard was something you were used to. He would have never parted with his GTR.

“No, I’m pissed off.” You wanted to get in the car and chase after him, maybe run him off the road if your temper really got the better of you. Instead you looked up at Pierre so he could see the anger in your eyes, the years of resentment slipping through. “He gets away with losing nothing because he’s got a dick, it’s bullshit. No one will even know that he lost now.”

Pierre winced as he saw the cut on your cheek and used his sweater sleeve to gently wipe the blood away. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“What do you mean?” You tried not to sound so hopeful but he smiled as he caught it wrapped his arms around your waist.

He nodded his head to the front of the car. “Dash cam, Beautiful. I guess it depends on whether you are done living by their rules.”

You looked at the shattered back windscreen and the stone chips ruining the panels, a dark smile curling your lips. “Fuck their rules.”

Pierre tipped your chin back, his own lips curling up before he kissed you so hard your toes curled in your shoes as your arms draped around his neck. When he pulled back you were left breathless and saw more stars than what was already filling the night sky. “Fuck their rules,” he echoed in your ear, his breath hot on your skin and spreading even further. “Trouble’s coming their way.”

Click here for part three.

#pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine

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seat-safety-switch · 2 years ago

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It's weird how, when you get deeper into a hobby, the things you want become much more specific. When I was a little kid, identifying the cars of my neighbourhood, I wanted nothing more than a day-glo orange Plymouth Scamp. Now, with my intellectual and emotional growth, I want a more refined choice: a Plymouth Sc... wait, can I start over?

Perhaps the most obvious way this manifests is in tools. When we first learn about tools, the average home gamer figures that all they'll need is a good set of socket wrenches, a complete group of screwdrivers, and a floor jack. That's all you need to change tires and do basic maintenance, right?

Wrong. As you descend into the rabbit hole, more and more specialized equipment shows up as you begin to lose touch with your former self. Jackstands. A two-post lift. Engine hoist. Engine stand. Transmission jack. A gantry crane with chainfalls for pulling recalcitrant engines, axles, and cabs. Homemade engine dyno. You get the idea. It gets really bad, to the point where you're no longer even drooling over tools at "enthusiast" hardware stores. No, you're visiting abandoned factories, and wondering how strong the roof is.

Still, there is something to be said for restraint. All the tools in the universe don't mean anything if you don't work on the tool between your ears. No, Stan, I didn't mean it like that. I forgot about the allen key accident. Hey, I said I was sorry. Why would I crack jokes about that right now, of all times? Okay, great, thank you for letting me get back on track. Hey, no, don't stand next to the industrial electromagnet, it's still on!

What I'm trying to say is, as soon as you get ahold of a lot of cool tools, you should quit your day job so that you can have more time to focus on using those tools. Maybe invite me over, so I learn something, too. Just not if that tool is a mop. I suspect I'm going to get a lot of experience doing that this weekend.

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transport-methodology-101 · 23 days ago

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Ladies and gentleman what you witness here isn’t your typical boy racer late ‘60’s or early ‘70’s muscle era cars. These were designed and built for NASCAR racing, yes all of them above. It meant they needed to be homologated per racing regulations. (Message us to understand ‘homologation’). This required them to be made in limited numbers. Not for the average Joe. Music to collectors and fortune seeking opportunists.

Each one of these cars if you can find one for sale) start around $1/4 mil. During 1960s NASCAR racing. the Big Three fought tooth and nail against each other for winner’s circle glory. These are truly’rare rides’.

We’ll start from the top:- 1969 Ford Torino Talladega; Standout features of the Cobra Jet included a cast-iron block and heads on the FE series motor, a bore and stroke of 4.13 x 3.98 inches, a 10.6:1 compression ratio, a cast-iron crank, high-strength forged connecting rods, a cast iron intake manifold, a dual 2.25-inch cast iron exhaust, and a single, 735 CFM Holley four-barrel. Special Talladega ancillaries included an engine oil cooler and a power steering oil cooler.

Output was listed at 335 horsepower at 5,200 RPM and a stump-pulling 440 lb⋅ft at just 3,400 RPM. Ford had underrated the power figures for insurance purposes though, and in reality, the engine was tested to likely churning out close to 450 ponies, bone-stock from the factory. Still not enough compared to Mopar/Chrysler. In fact Mopar dominated power enough for Plymouth and Dodge wins the remaining 21 races, and Plymouth driver, Richard Petty, tied Pearson on 16 wins. Ford cars achieved 27 victories out of 49 races during the 1968 season,

Ford team owner and engineers put the Torino through a wind tunnel and nipped, tucked and added aerodynamic changes good for a five MPH increase in top speed, the equivalent of a 75 horsepower gain. All the details are here with lotsa pics :- https://www.streetmusclemag.com/features/rare-rides-the-1969-ford-torino-talladega/

1969 Mercury Cyclone Spoiler II Cale Yarborough Special:- Mercury built counterpart to '69 Ford Talladega, a NASCAR aero warrior for the street as & only 503 cars were built misspelling it’s name a few times initially. Compared to the bare bones Ford above, Mercury went more upscale but still built the Spoiler II to strict set of components with just one option/accessory, an AM radio. As it was Mercury likely lost money on every unit sold and they didn’t want to market these special cars for the street but just had to, to meet NASCAR sanctioning needs.

The ‘69 Spoiler IIs were divided into two series: Cale Yarborough and Dan Gurney. Our post focuses on the Yarborough version. A unique front end that helped aerodynamics distinguishes Cale Yarborough's car. Ford and Mercury downplayed their aero cars for the street. They likely lost money on every unit sold. The dealer-delivered wholesale price for the unique front end was an incredulous $75.

Engine:351ci/390hp (claimed but dyno test likely revealed much more) V-8 mated to a FMX 3-speed automatic with column shift.

Special parts:- NASCAR-type extended nose with blackout grille, two-tone roof & rear deck, black hood stripes, unique Mercury II decals on top of doors above latches, Cross Country Ride Package (high-rate springs and shock absorbers), body side tape stripe (color-keyed to roof color), left-hand remote control racing mirror, right-hand manual racing mirror, rear deck spoiler (dealer installed), "Cale Yarborough Special" identification on front fenders, "Cyclone Spoiler" on rear quarter-panels. All details ⬇️ here with lots more pics : https://www.hotrod.com/features/1969-mercury-cyclone-spoiler-like-it-was

1970 Plymouth HEMI Superbird :- Fewer than 135 Superbirds were ever produced with the 426 HEMI V8. This engine, originally developed for NASCAR, was rated at 425 horsepower and 490 lb-ft of torque & backed by a 4-speed manual transmission. That power, combined with a race-inspired aerodynamic body, gave the Superbird performance credentials to match its outrageous looks. It was built for one purpose; to win in races. That long nose cone and towering rear spoiler genuinely helped stability at high speeds plus immensely improved propulsion aerodynamics. This ‘odd looking’ bird was a hard sell in sales showrooms. Even the mega power Hemi version sold very few.

This link highlights one such Hemi Superbird that sold for $803,000 in an auction ⬇️ :- https://tork.buzz/classics/How-This-Classic-HEMI-Hit-803000-and-Made-History-20250424-0020.html

1970 Mercury Cyclone Spoiler :- Standard in the Mercury was the 370-bhp ram-air 429-cid V-8, an extra-cost upgrade in the Cobra. A Hurst-stirred four-speed with 3.50:1 Traction-Lok gears completed the drivetrain, while a "competition" handling package and G70xl4 tires laced it down.

Select-Shift automatic was optional, and so was the Drag Pack, which emboldened the 429 with solid lifters, stronger internals, and 375 bhp. The Drag Pack included 3.91:1 or 4.30:1 axles, the latter a Detroit Locker.

In 1970, Mercury built a total of 1,631 Cyclone Spoilers. Of those, only 341 were equipped with the 429 Super Cobra Jet engine. More info ⬇️ :- https://musclecars.howstuffworks.com/classic-muscle-cars/1970-mercury-cyclone-spoiler.htm

1969 Dodge Charger Daytona :- A high-performance, limited-edition (only 503 built) car designed for NASCAR racing. It broke the 200 mph barrier at Talladega racetrack. One sold for $3.3 mil. at the 2024 Meacham auction.

https://www.nascarhall.com/blog/the-200-mph-dodge#

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dynamic-power · 1 year ago

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Hi Dyno! 16 or 24 for Gallavich for the cuddling prompts? 💖

Hi Callie! This is such a sweet combo 💜

Heavily doting on each other, feeling lucky seeing the other vulnerable like this, even just knowing them like this.

Resting their head against the others chest and feeling completely relaxed by their heartbeat.

"You're sure you're okay?" Mickey asked him for what felt like the dozenth time.

Ian bit back a smile as his husband watched him warily. "I'm fine. Just having a bad day." It was the first time in a couple years that Ian had felt the low of depression tugging at his mood, though, so his assurance did nothing to ease Mickey's frown.

"You hungry? Had enough water? Maybe you should come move to the couch. We can watch a movie or something. Debs said she could swing by after work, so-"

"Mickey," Ian interrupted, "I'll be okay." Seeing Mickey worrying, trying to take care of Ian as much as he could, made Ian's chest warm. He was the only one who got to see his husband without any part of his gruff exterior in sight. He was the lucky one this incredible man chose to love. "Come here, though?"

Mickey's face softened, and he collapsed onto the bed. Ian pulled him over, urging him into the pillows. Settling between Mickey's strong thighs, Ian laid against his torso and pressed his ear to Mickey's chest. He could hear his heart beating strong and steady. Each pulse meant Mickey was here, was alive. Ian knew every beat was for him, too, and he basked in the warmth and love he felt in the rhythm.

#gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #dyno writes #ask dyno

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thinginahumansuit · 1 year ago

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There's not a whole lot hotter than a powerful machine on the dyno being held back by chains and straps. It pulls and strains to give the best it can be and in its excitement, almost lunges off the dyno altogether. But just one test isn't enough.

You need an average.

So you encourage it to go again and again and again. You swear you can almost see it sweat and you imagine steam rising from its grille as it shows off in front of you, yet constrained and helpless to you're testing. It wants to impress you. It wants your validation.

And you give it your sweet words. So sweet, that it growls and burbles in response, like some young predator responding to its mother. But you don't unhook those chains and straps from underneath its rear and you make it go one more round.

You caress its body as it works, feeling the smoothness of the paint since you just refreshed it and marveling at its shape, a shape you ultimately gave it due to the extensive modifications made to it. Then you give it one hard smack on the ass and it lunges one more time, those straps and chains straining to keep it in place.

You can feel its exhaustion as it finally finishes. You unhook it, hugging your metallic beast, kissing it, telling it what a good job it did, telling it that you'll come first in the local time attack event for sure.

#objectum #objectum community #mechanophilia #mechaphilia #automobilum #car objectum

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balcon1es · 1 year ago

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pairing: bachira/rin/isagi

word count: 5,510

summary:

Isagi’s parents always joked that when God was putting him together in the womb, he made Bachira between his breaks. They were a matching set. The yin to his all-consuming yang. Bachira didn’t route-read, because Bachira didn’t care about what was logical. Hell, Bachira didn’t care about what was legal. ”What’s the fun in knowing how it ends?” he laughed. “Good luck pulling that kind of shit on a real crag," Rin said. "You do know holds like these don’t exist in the real world, right? One wrong move and you’re dead.” “Well, do tell us more, almighty climber,” Isagi teased. “What’s it like in the big bad deadly outdoors?”

Or: Summer in the Blue Lock climbing gym. Going up and growing up. Don't look down now. [bachirinsagi]

Chapter One: first ascent

Whipper (Climbing) noun. a sudden and unexpected fall in lead climbing, where one plummets often dramatically in an arcing manner, with the rope creating a forceful whip-like motion

Warm-Up

“You the route-setter?” said the boy.

Isagi wasn’t paying too much attention to how life looked like before this moment, and that was his first mistake—he would’ve held on to it more, if he knew; noted the logical geometry of where things fell, the brown noise of climbers milling in, chalk dusting the air like a parody of snowflakes, the protein shake metabolizing in his gut, and one napping Bachira Meguru, drooling on his lap. The predictable trajectory of his life as it unspooled before him. A trajectory that did not include boys like this one—long under-lashes, dark hair that fringed a heartbreaker’s face. And the face, well. There was no preparing for it. Like a lance to the gut.

The black hole had opened on a Tuesday, 7 PM: the new boy had walked into Blue Lock’s climbing gym with a long-limbed easy grace and topped the boulder Isagi had set—a nasty V10 that even Bachira, for all his freaky hundred-and-one tricks, couldn’t send, the one Barou called, “absolutely sickening” and “fucking psychotic” and not in a good way, mind you, you donkey, you ever gonna stop fucking around and set some real boulders?

Isagi was going to be done with it, he promised; with Blue Lock being the only decent climbing gym this side of Saitama, Isagi knew it was time to settle for a little less crazy, a little more “friendly for the masses.” Even if the thought of it clawed at him. If no one could top this problem, then that would be his sign.

Eleven seconds. That was how long it took for the boy to assess Isagi’s route. He bent down to dip his hands in his chalk bag. Graceful hands, like a pianist’s. Then, simply, he—

”Went up,” was all the words Bachira could muster while they debriefed over greasy post-climb ramen and Isagi tried not to flounder in the soup of his despair and whatever tatters remained of his climbing career, whatever that was supposed to be. Bachira spoke with reverence, like recounting an urban myth: how, with an uncanny strength and elegance, the new boy went for the paddle dyno with no breath wasted—had the gumption to hold it there, where most had fallen, like he had time to ponder about what he was having for dinner while his legs flared out behind him, eight feet of air below.

When it happened, Bachira stilled, slowly sitting up from where he’d pillowed his head on Isagi’s lap. Bachira always had a sense for The Fun. Six holds left. The boy traversed to his right, with a tiny delicate footswap, over the hold the size of a crumb. (“A hold for fucking ants,” Kunigami grumbled.) Quick pogo to another paddle dyno, his back muscles contracting like tectonic plates. “Holy shit,” Isagi said. Bachira’s jaw fully ajar. Isagi had never seen such dancelike, sure-footed movement. Like the holds were magnetized to his body. This was a boy that would not fall.

Four holds left. The crux: an ugly blind dyno to an even uglier hold. (“Tore my meniscus again just looking at it,” Chigiri observed.)

Three holds left. Two.

One—

The boy’s left palm silently accompanying the right. Slow and controlled.

Match.

“Well?” the new boy said, eyes granite. Isagi’s mouth went dry at the full force of it sent his way. “You set that V10?”

“Yeah—yeah, I did.” This bastard just flashed it . “Just that one though, I’m still in training. Anri-san’s our head routesetter, so—”

Around them, climbers began to clap, like they were all breaking out of the same sleeping spell. The boy didn’t seem to notice; his eyes turned to the wall then back to Isagi, and the potency of it made Isagi stand a little straighter. Lashes, Isagi thought, already sliding all these new minute details into the vast library of data he accumulated to make sense of it all. Lashes, climbing like dancing, boys, pretty boys—

“You call this a V10? That was hardly a V6,” Itoshi Rin said. “This gym is a fucking joke.”

Then he turned to leave.

Beside him, Bachira made an aborted noise, a cross between a shriek and a garbled scoff. “Wait!” Bachira cried. “Well, whatever you feel about this gym, we still honor first ascent privileges. You top it, you name it. Don’t we, Isagi?”

“I guess,” Isagi managed, despite the lance in his gut.

Rin’s mouth curled at the edges, turning and turning the handle of his weapon. “Mm, how about,” and he smiled, like recalling a sour joke, “Warm Up?”

—lashes, chalk, pretty boys, graceful boys, punchable-in-the-fucking-mouth—

Reset

“Fresh problems, fresh out the oven,” Isagi sing-songed, turning the corner to see Kunigami, Chigiri, and Bachira already warming up by the bouldering mat. He ducked out of Bachira’s fake-high five and ruffled his hair, if only to see the answering pout. “Exrta spicy, just for you. Yeah, yeah, I set you some dynos on the steep wall, Kunigami, who the hell do you think I am? Everybody say thank you Isagi.”

“Thank you Isagi!” Bachira and Chigiri chorused. Kunigami mimed zipping his mouth and bumped Isagi’s fist as their friends dashed straight for the walls.

Why anyone would choose to spend their spare time climbing fake plastic rocks only to climb back down again, Isagi couldn’t tell you. Everyone had a different reason. There was a logic to it that drew him in—set your base, build the triangle, find the most optimal body positioning, tension, momentum. There were 1000 ways to reach to top, like there were 1000 ways to die doing so.

While there were no hard rules to sending a problem, there was, Isagi liked the argue, a single best sequence to get you there. Isagi had spent his first few years climbing being that weird, off-putting kid in rentals who studied how you moved up those multicolored cracks and footholds, only to tell you after—depending on your weight, strength level, and climbing IQ—what bad fucking form you had, actually, those first four moves were really shitty, and that’s why you ruined the rest of it, but it’s fine, hey, listen, we can fix it, next time here’s what you need to do.

Needless to say, that sort of intensity never stood a chance in a commercial gym.

Route-setting was the obvious choice.

Of sorts, Bachira was his natural antithesis. Isagi’s parents always joked that when God was putting him together in the womb, he made Bachira between his breaks. They were a matching set. The yin to his all-consuming yang. Break to his lever. Bachira didn’t route-read, because Bachira didn’t care about what was logical. Hell, Bachira didn’t care about what was legal. ”What’s the fun in knowing how it ends?” His best friend liked the flashy moves, the zingers and shoulderbusters. The sketchier, the better. Mostly, he liked breaking Isagi’s carefully sequenced routes and blowing his mind wide open.

There was THUD as Bachira’s back hit the mat. A few heads turned, a split-second of shock, until Bachira rolled back to his knees and beamed, like he didn’t just fall 10 feet.

“So close!” he giggled. “That was a fun one, Isagi!”

Only Bachira would think of doing a figure 4 in such a cramped, unstable position on the steep wall. Isagi rolled his eyes playfully as Bachira swiped his water bottle and planted his mouth on it, drinking long and greedy. Then it was Chigiri and Kunigami’s turn.

“That was inspired,” came Chigiri’s calm verdict; he came close to Bachira’s last position before bailing from the purple route with a loud FUCK, SHIT!

“Fun, right?” Bachira said. “I love when Isagi gets creative.”

“I don’t know, sometimes I swear he’s trying to kill us,” Kunigami replied, panting, two minutes after Chigiri’s attempt. “That one-handed catch? Disgusting.”

“Was thinking of you, you muscle freak.” Isagi winked. “Too spicy for you?”

“Yeah, Kunigami-kun. It’s literally all jugs, bro.”

“Don’t even fucking start. No yapping until you send it.”

“Oho.” Chigiri grinned, all teeth. “Maybe I will.”

Bachira swatted Chigiri’s back as he faced the wall again, accepting whatever it offered. “C’mon, Chigirin!”

“You got this, princess,” Isagi crowed—so buoyed by the presence of his friends, their laser-sharp attention that some days bordered on religious, even Blue Lock’s speakers piping awful hyper-pop into his ears, that for a moment, he forgot all about strange dullness that washed over him when he put on his uniform this morning, the same one he wore yesterday, same one he’ll pull on tomorrow, and the day after that. “C’mon, yes, nice, let’s go, nice one—you’re so close, c’mon, listen to me, no, listen—WHAT ARE YOU, SOME KIND SOME WEAK SHIT? FINISH IT!” A curse, then a body hitting the mat with a groan. “THE FUCK DID YOU BAIL FOR?”

“There it is,” Kunigami drawled, “Deranged Asshole Mode: On,” at the same time Chigiri hollered back, “Shut the hell up, I don’t wanna hear nothing!”

“Aw, good try, Princess. I think, maybe if you skipped that hold—the one that looks like a nipple? Then imagine if you went like—” Bachira flung himself on the third overhanging hold, facing them, then swung both legs over his head to hook his toes on the crimp above—a perfect bat hang. “Then you can rest your hands for a bit. See? Then, you just gotta—”

“Yeah, no.” Chigiri turned around. He jabbed a finger into Isagi's chest, breathing hard. “Isagi, I swear to god if you open your mouth.”

Isagi raised his hands disbelievingly. “Fine. Figure it out yourself.”

“Or you.”

Kunigami grinned back, rising to his feet to roll his shoulders. “I guess I gotta do everything around here, huh?”

“I hate gym rats,” Isagi announced, after Kunigami managed to cross over to the second to the last hold with no feet, all biceps, which was just sickening to see, really. “You put your heart and soul into a problem, and in the end, they’re just gonna campus it.”

Chigiri agreed. “I despise you.”

“Aw, don’t cry, babygirls,” Kunigami said, accepting Bachira’s exuberant high-five. “We can’t all be me.”

“Talking shit when you haven’t even sent it?”

“Don’t worry, guys. I’ll send it,” Bachira announced solemnly, and then was off.

“Speaking of gym rats, guess who I bumped into at the chest press this morning,” Kunigami began. Legs crossed, they shifted closer to each other in the middle of the mat. Isagi checked his watch; soon, the 8 PM after-work crowd would start swarming in; Igaguri took the day off, so Anri subbed him in to do a few safety briefings with some newbies.

“Is this Mr. Indoor-Climbing-Isn’t-Real-Climbing?” Chigiri said.

“That’s stupid,” Bachira called without turning. He blew off a layer of extra chalk on the starting hold until the purple underneath shone. “Indoor holds look way yummier.”

“...Right,” Kunigami said. “Anyway, get this. I hear Mr. Rin here moved back from the US after a climbing accident.”

“Accident?”

“What, like, a bad fall?”

“Real bad,” Kunigami said. “Failed rappel on the Revenger.”

They shared a collective, full-body wince.

Isagi gripped his ankle, eyes tracking Bachira blurring on the wall, still relentlessly trying to stick his bat hang move. “That’s crazy, though. Do we know any Japanese climbers who’ve sent the Revenger?”

“Nope. And still none,” Kunigami said. “Guy’s still crazy, though, I’ll give him that. Him and his brother. Itoshi Sae? Yeah, so that’s the bit: the minute Rin here’s back home, he starts visiting all these gyms. Saitama’s his second stop. The catch? People are noticing he’s challenging all the same comps Sae did, years ago, before they moved.” Kunigami added, “Winning them, too.”

Chigiri whistled. “Big brother push him off a cliff or what?”

“So he’s here for the summer comp,” Isagi said. “Bolting for Glory.”

Chigiri cursed, popping his heel out of his climbing shoe. “And I thought Barou was gonna be my biggest problem this season.”

“Not me?” Kunigami teased.

Lashes, Isagi thought, outdoor climbing, bad falls, climbing like dancing. No wonder the man moved like that; there was a knife-edged precision climbing outdoors demanded of you. It turned you inside-out. Summer comp. Bad blood? Itoshi Rin.

“Yeah, that’s his name,” Kunigami said, and Isagi flushed. Here he was, mumbling like a fool again.

THUD on the mat. Bachira, for all his airheadedness, managed to whisper-shout at them after rolling upright: “Guys, Mr. I’m a Climber Who Climbs Outdoors is here!”

He was right; Kuon was checking Rin in at the front desk. Rin was wearing a plain black tracksuit that drew even more attention to his stupidly long legs. As he passed, they all seemed to find great interest in their shoes. Only Bachira seemed brave enough to turn and wave. Isagi didn’t see what Rin did, though he imagined he kept emitting that same brand of Unpleasant.

Two hours and two safety briefings later, it was time for Chigiri and Kunigami to go. “My flappers have flappers,” Chigiri explained. He held up ten fingers and boasted their flayed, red skin.

Bachira said, “yuck!” like it was amazing.

“Anyway, we’re headed home. You coming, Bachira? Waiting up for Isagi, as usual?”

“Yep!” Bachira said, popping the P. Kunigami ruffled his hair. Isagi waved, watched them go, then turned back to watching Rin on the moonboard, absolutely demolishing the moves, from the corner of his eye.

“You don’t have to wait up again, Bachira,” Isagi called out, though it was half-hearted; Bachira always waited up for him to close shop.

“S’fine, I really wanna try sending this today. I’m so close! Also, I think new guy’s gonna project Anri-chan’s V12 on the boulder roof.”

The sentiment was loud in Isagi’s ears: I wanna see him send it. Isagi burned for it, too.

Every day Rin walked into the gym like it was his mission to send each of Isagi’s “unsendable” routes, the exact same way Isagi had envisioned, only to blow that vision apart with one brilliant move at the last second. If Isagi dwelled on it a bit more, he’d realize Rin had been going here nearly every day, all alone, and that he looked bored out of his mind. Or no—that wasn’t it, was it? It was a face that reminded him a little of Bachira, a lifetime ago, on the day they met. Holding on, waiting for the drop, and so keenly, quietly in pain it took Isagi years to catch up to it. Something inside him broke softly. There was a high victory whoop. A tangle of limbs hurtled against his side.

“ISAGI, I DID IT.” Bachira’s skin, like the soft bodies of giddy bees, against his. “I sent your purple route!”

“No way.”

“Uh, yes way.” The proof, shoved under his nose: a video of Bachira slinging his whole torso into the void to catch the final hold. “FIRST ASCENT, LOSERS.”

“You monster,” Isagi laughed, feeling the smile split his face. Bachira kept grinning back. “Well? Was it fun?”

“So fun.” The glint of Bachira’s eyes was a pocket knife. “I want another.”

“Greedy.”

“Duh. Now, I finally get to watch Rin-chan!” Bachira left the piece of paper in Isagi’s hands and darted off in Rin’s direction, like a bee to the world’s most repugnant flower.

Isagi glanced at the slip. “Oh, you are not naming my route Purple Nurple —”

Purple Nurple (V11 | FA: Bachira Meguru)

Rin considered the purple wall like it was a minefield. Bachira was grinning, like he planted them there.

“Oh, this one’s super fun, Rin-chan. Promise! I spent all yesterday afternoon sending it. It has two coordi-moves, then a really sketchy knee bar—”

“Did I ask?”

“Sheesh, man, just try it,” Isagi said. A rare rest day for him, and of course he’d spent it at the gym. Somehow, he’d found himself walking over to the duo, drawn to the line of Rin’s back and the hook in Bachira’s smile, reeling something in.

“Another pathetic warm-up route?” Rin spoke, in greeting.

“Nah, not this one," Isagi said. "This one’s got a little something in it.”

Isagi was proud of the way he kept his eyes level, even as his gut lurched at the gaze. The guy’s face card was making him feel violent. It was ruining his life.

Bachira let out a whoop! as Rin coated his hands in chalk, making a loose fist and blowing at to get rid of the extra stuff. Sit-start, the first move—then it was impossible not to notice the arc of his shoulders, all lean, corded muscle. Or the quiet power in his left arm, muscles flexing simultaneously while he rotated his body 180 degrees to reach the next overhanging hold. It was hard to pin down a style; Rin seemed to be using a mixture of Chigiri's speed, Kunigami's power, and Bachira’s general absurdity—their best moves, Isagi noted, with his own cocktail of jealousy and awe.

Rin was past the crux now. At this rate, he was going to flash it.

“I know!” Bachira groaned, like it was delightful. Did Isagi talk out loud again?

Well, whatever. Flash or no flash. This was why Isagi put two cruxes.

“C’mon!” Bachira gripped Isagi’s shoulder and shook him like a ragdoll. “Rin-chan, let’s go!”

Second to the last hold, the biggest, hardest nipple of them all—a ginormous, glorious sloper with dual texture: texturized on bottom, deviously slippery on top.

Pulling his torso back like slingshot, Rin jumped sideways—his first dynamic move. The swing nearly took him off: for a second, Rin was falling. Then he caught himself with his free hand and kicked on the wall hard, reorienting his center, then made his way up. Denying texture, denying physics. Weightless, again.

Match.

Two electric-blue Scarpas hit the mat.

Bachira whined. “You made that look way too easy!”

“Damn, dude. Solid.” Isagi reached his fist out for a bump. This, Rin quickly rebuffed as he reached for his water bottle.

“That won’t do.” Bachira grabbed Rin’s wrist and bonked it with Isagi’s. “Where’s your manners?”

Rin jerked back. “Where’s yours? You don’t just touch strangers.”

“Strangers? We’ve been climbing buddies for weeks now,” Bachira complained, crossing his arms. Rin looked like he wanted to contest this, but Bachira was already talking over him. “But why did you static the third move anyway? Bo-ring. You could’ve done a bat hang, at least. Right, Isagi?”

Bachira was already running towards the wall to demonstrate. “He’s not gonna let up,” Isagi informed Rin. “By the way.”

“See?” Bachira said, upside down.

“You’ll use too much energy,” Rin scoffed.

A laugh as Bachira accepted gravity. Isagi let him swipe his water bottle again as he hopped over. There was a stripe of chalk on his cheek. “Yeah, but it’s more fun, right?”

“It’s excessive and inefficient.” Rin looked pointedly at the way Bachira massaged the calf where Isagi was betting a cramp was going to set in, any minute now; in three, two, one— “Look: now you’re all pumped, your legs are useless and you don’t have any strength to do anything else. Am I right?”

“But did I look cool though?”

“Debatable,” Rin said. Bachira stuck his tongue out. Instead of taking off to hiss at first-timers or shred pushups at the pullup bar or god knows whatever else Rin liked to do all by his lonesome—not that Isagi liked to imagine what Rin did, not at all—Rin sat down, pulled off his Scarpas, and stared at the purple problem with a keen gaze. Tilted his head, like a cat. “Bat hang, huh,” Rin said, the closest they would get to a concession. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Isagi tore his gaze from the way Rin’s throat moved, taking in full gulps of water, back to the nasty cramp he was helping push out of Bachira’s leg. On his back, Bachira made pitiful sounds. “So it can work.”

“Good luck pulling that kind of shit on a real crag. You do know holds like these don’t exist in the real world, right? One wrong move, you’re dead.”

“Well, do tell us more, almighty climber,” Isagi teased. “I beseech you: what’s it like climbing in the big bad deadly outdoors?” And the second surprise of the night: Rin did exactly that.

Hakuho High West Wing Arete

In the strange blistering weeks after, summer crept towards a degree closer to unbearable, Bachira demanded wilder and wilder routes, and Rin continued to find more creative ways to badmouth his route-setting. Rin, Isagi learned, who under all those stupid lashes and radioactive levels of Off-putting, seemed to be a guy who was irrevocably, if not equally, obsessed with The Rocks like Isagi was.

Isagi was getting used to the shape of his attention. Rin jammed his fingers into Bachira’s back when his spine sagged without tension. Barked, “WRONG,” every time they made a move that wasn’t Rin’s exact flavor of climbing. Called Isagi’s latest boulder route, “fucking lukewarm,” like he was some kind underpaid undersecretary, delivering him coffee for the day. Still, Rin never failed to hold up his end of the bargain in this tenuous belaytionship: to show them some damn good climbing.

The little flame in Isagi’s chest was back. It licked him black and blue.

“You got that look on your face again,” Bachira sing-songed as they left the gym.

“What look.”

“Ah, yes. The look,” Kunigami agreed behind him. Chigiri grinned.

“What.”

“That little wrinkle. Here.�� Bachira’s finger poked Isagi’s temple. “You’re thinking about Rinrin, aren't you?”

“Rinrin?” balked Isagi.

“Ah, did I not mention? We’re lead partners now! I think. He walked up to me one day and asked me to be his belayer.” Bachira swept his bangs over his right eye for his best impression of one Itoshi Rin. “Might as well, since you’re hanging out being useless all the time.”

Kunigami whistled. "Sounds like him."

“Okay, first of all? You gotta be around the same weight to be partners,” Isagi pressed. "Second of all, really, Bachira?"

“He said, don’t worry. I won’t fall. Isn’t that crazy?” Bachira laughed. “He’s so crazy. He's just like me!”

“He’s nothing like you, Bachira."

“Damn, Isagi’s gonna kick him out the gym for stealing his belay partner,” Chigiri said.

“I’d kick him out for less, if I could,” Isagi tossed back. “He’s gotta stop sending all my problems. Seriously. He’s scaring off all the first-timers, too. And he takes way too long at the showers! I swear he has this whole beauty routine, like—guys? Aaand there they go.”

Save for Kunigami, Isagi was alone on the street; they’d lost Chigiri and Bachira a few ways back to some cracks in the wall. They looked mesmerized by it. The sign on the arc above read: HAKUHO HIGH. Isagi recognized its fancy brick design. Flemish pattern. 20 meters wide. Crimpy, but good for traverse.

Chigiri was pulling out three fingers he’d plugged into a small gap in the wall. “That’s a great finger jam. You think you can do it?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Bachira winked, already rolling up his pant leg.

“Sometimes, I hate climbers,” Kunigami despaired for Isagi to hear, but he was already whipping out his phone. Later, there’d be a reel of all four of them: climbing and slipping off the wall and climbing again, then falling all over each other in public.

When they were young, Bachira was always falling off of things. He’d gotten the itch first—always scaling trees, finding small notches in the wall, hanging upside off of ledges and promising the view, Isagi, the view! The first time they’d met, he’d chipped a tooth falling off the first-floor balcony when Marcus, the moneyed, hoity-toity class president, flung a shoe at him while Bachira tried to reach the school bell.

As kids, that bell was the closest thing they had to a god. It dictated class, recess, nap time. Only Bachira had the gall to reach out and pluck it for himself, grinning as he made that slow ascent. Grinning, as the sidewalk opened his hands. As they called him freak.

Later, after the parent-teacher meeting, the tearful fussing, Isagi had snuck out to tie Marcus’ shoe, his bag, and all his favorite things on the balcony like a flag. His teachers mistook it as another rebellion. Isagi meant it as a promise.

You know what would’ve made that more fun? Isagi asked him.

Bachira, who had hunched into the void inside himself the moment his mother came, said, Tell me. Unfurling, a flower to its first sun.

No one was surprised to learn it wasn’t a phase for either of them. Bachira liked it all—lead climbing, bouldering, top rope—he was happy to be weightless, to be a body hanging off an abyss, better if it was just them two; tied to one another, braiding visions to top a wall and come back down to do it all over again.

On the world's most awkward family dinner Isagi confessed he wanted to make plastic rocks for a living, Isagi had hoarded the apology in his mouth all day—until Bachira had whooped and said, mouth full of macaroni, you know Isagi, route setting at Blue Lock is a great idea!

It was a great idea. And it was turning out to be a great life. Bachira vaulted to the top of Hakuho High’s arete, pumped his fist, and for a fevered moment Isagi remembered that same hazard-eyed kid at twelve years old who matched his crazy, who leaned over the table and said, Make me fun routes, Isagi. The most fun. Chigiri caught his legs as Bachira jumped off. They rolled together in a haphazard tangle. Their laughs shattered the air. Kunigami grabbed them both by the scruff and grunted, fuck, cops, cops, move along.

Isagi would’ve been okay, if this was how the rest of his life looked like. He would've been fine. Then there was Rin's dumb little face again, rising to the surface. Bored, with a dash of pissed-the-fuck-off. Like he'd taken one look at Isagi's life, the small patch of green he’d been diligently watering and said, that’s it?

Lashes, Isagi thought, summer comp, climbing like dancing, outdoors. Then what? What comes next after all this?

“C’mon on, Isagi.” Bachira was grabbing him by the wrist, giggling as they ran down the opposite lane as cop cars blurred past, lights strobing red-blue-red. “Keep up!”

Lukewarm, Part One

Isagi found his answer, two hours after blindly pitching down the rabbit hole that was Itoshi Rin’s traditional climbing Youtube videos. Despite Rin having the online presence of a rock, leaving them to subsist on the odd compendium of short clips, competition recordings, and the even rarer interview accompanying his past partner, it was clear Rin’s magic was hereditary. None of those Itoshi boys moved right. Not like anyone with skin and blood. It was like watching water travel through rock: no second thoughts, just the cool forward rush, a bubbling under the surface.

The video was five years old: Boulder Breakdown: Hueco V15 Itoshi Brothers. Isagi finished the video, and he knew.

Rin nodded at him now when Isagi smiled at him in greeting. Small jerk of the head, barely there. Small wins. Isagi blew the steam from his coffee mug and sat down to man the front desk for the early Saturday shift. Rin took his usual spot by the moonboard, began picking out some warm up equipment. I swear, it’s this whole thing, Bachira described. I fell asleep waiting for him once! But after, Rin’s skin looked warm, more alive, sweat gathered on his lashes, and the way he moved—

It took Rin an eternity to notice the new route on the 45-degree wall. The holds brilliant blue. He looked back at Isagi for a second.

He took in a pull of coffee. Tried to go for nonchalant while Rin climbed but couldn’t help it—it was like looking away from a comet.

Seconds later, Rin’s shoes were hitting the mat. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet of the gym. Rin pushed himself up, looking stunned.

Isagi tore his gaze away, back to his phone.

Then Rin made a second attempt. He spent ten seconds glaring at it, finding the path up this beast of a climb Isagi had agonized over, inspired from Rin’s various trad climbing feats on scorched crag and mossy overhang, this little homunculus Isagi knew could finally bite back. Isagi even threw in a fist jam in there, then two disgusting moves one normally wouldn’t find in an indoor gym, because it tested the body in a bad way. The last hold, if you made it there, was lethal. Isagi made sure of it. If you could wriggle your torso out of those three consecutive heel hooks, you’d need the perfect balance of tension and momentum to surge up and stand on the sloper without windmilling backward, into the abyss.

One move left. A big one. Rin made the upwards move. The edge of Rin’s shoe planted itself on the sloper, catching it. His calf tensed so hard Isagi tensed his own in sympathy. Two palms on the wall as a brace, feather-light.

Clever, so maddeningly clever. But not enough.

Itoshi Rin didn’t fall. He slipped though; caught himself miraculously on another blue hold below, then let go—a little too fast this time. He landed on two feet—always on two feet—and had to roll twice to get upright.

Isagi couldn’t even hide it anymore. He was grinning right into his coffee.

“Oi. Routesetter.” Rin asked, palm landing flat on the front desk. The back of his head was in disarray, like he’d just dodged an electromagnetic field. "You set this?"

A slow sip. “My name’s on it, isn’t it?”

“So you did.” Rin's chest was rising, falling. “V13?”

“I don’t know, haven’t graded it yet.”

"You don't know."

Isagi’s smile edged out of its sheath. “What would you grade it?”

Rin’s nose flared, dodging the trick. “It’s not your usual style.”

“Call me inspired,” Isagi said. “Well? What’d you think?”

Rin’s chest was still heaving, proof of the effort he’d made. A bead of sweat unclipped itself from his chin and ran down the long column of his neck. The longer Isagi stared at it, the more flushed it grew. “Better than the shitty problems I’ve had to tolerate this past month.”

Isagi snorted. “Whatever you say. It’s the first time I’ve seen you not flash something. Don’t worry; that was a solid try though. Really smart climbing.”

“Thank god you think so,” Rin said.

Isagi bit back a laugh. “God, you really are like this all the time, huh? Don’t you get tired of it? Come on, get. There's more shiny stuff on the lead wall."

Rin’s annoyance didn’t abate, but he looked around the gym. “Where’s your fungal overgrowth?”

“Bachira never gets up this early. He’s coming in around twelve—but you only get him for an hour, tops. I’m doing lead later, too.”

“Get your own belayer.”

“He was my belayer first, asshole.”

“Don’t you have more boring walls to set?”

“You can’t even send this one, dude.”

At that, something in Rin’s eyes seemed to crystallize and go sharp. Isagi shouldn’t pitch forward, grinning wide and for show; he should be backing off, covering the tender in his throat.

Rin said, “Then, better keep your eyes on me.”

Isagi fake-yawned. “What're you gonna do?”

Rin was already walking off. “I'm going to fucking send it. With one hand.”

Lukewarm, Part Two

To Isagi’s chagrin, Rin, did in fact, “fucking send it.”

One-handed.

The video was in his phone. It burned a hole in his pocket. Isagi took it out to watch between shifts, twice or thrice a day, when he was in line at the grocery, when he was bolting candy-colored holds to the wall, when he wanted to remind himself how utterly, perfectly ruined his life was, now that Itoshi Rin stepped foot in it.

In the dark of his room, the video branded itself behind his eyes.

Then, strangely and without warning, he imagined himself, in Rin's place. A phantom tracing over his moves. All the ways he'd reach the top. All the ways he'd do different.

Ridiculous. That was what Rin's climbing was like. And Isagi was a realist: there was nothing particularly impressive about him. He wasn't monstrously strong or endlessly creative. There was nothing safe about this train of thought either. Only air under him. Nothing good. Right here. Right here was a good place to stop, recoup. But the light was seductive. Even as Isagi slept, the backs of his eyes felt dry, his mouth parched. The lance in his gut kept turning, turning, glowing white-hot.

#bachirinsagi #bachisagi #rinsagi #blue lock fic #bllk fic #bigdamnher0

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zipzin · 10 months ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Raya and the Last Dragon Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Namaari/Raya Characters: Raya, Sisu, Namaari Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern, Rock Climbing, Crack, is it enemies if only one of them thinks that? Summary: No matter what Sisu says, Raya is not interested. I mean, sure, she has eyes, anyone can see how hot Namaari is, and how unfair it is for her muscles to be able to lift her so easily up these walls, but she’s annoying and rude and no, nothing’s going to happen. Ever.

Note: this fic uses a variety of rock climbing jargon throughout, so I've made a glossary related to the terms for any non-climbers out there.

Raya frowns at the wall bearing the V5 that might be the end of it all. If she didn’t top this today what even was the point of climbing? Deep in her heart, she knows she’s being facetious, but this stupid problem felt like the death of her and any motivation.

It was a V5 for fuck’s sake. She could do it. She’d done four V6s! Though honestly this probably should have been graded as a V8. Or they could keep it as a V5 with a notice that you needed to be a certain height. Could they grade based on height?

She rolls her shoulders and tries to relax her sore muscles. She could not figure out a beta to push past the crux without completely destroying the feeling in her arms. Dyno-ing was out of the question, she had to keep tension with her other arm or she’d slide down the wall like a wet rag, and she did not want to end up with a tweaked ankle.

Stupid crux. Stupid wall. Stupid climbing.

“Still determined to top this one?”

“Yeah,” Raya nods at Sisu and sighs, “I know I can, and it’s the last week.”

Sisu nods, “You know, we aren’t meant to top every boulder.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Sisu rolls her eyes, “Raya.”

“I know,” Raya sighs, “But I know I can do this one. Believe me.”

Sisu nods and sits with Raya as she stares. Maybe a figure four? No, that wouldn’t work, the hold was not good enough and would that even give her the reach?

“What’s dripping, dep la?” A voice echoes from behind them and Raya jerks back, frowning.

“Namaari,” Raya grunts.

“This one giving you problems?” Namaari gestures towards the wall. “I thought you could do V6s.”

“It was mislabeled, it’s a V8.” Raya shoots back.

Namaari raises her eyebrows as Sisu sighs next to her.

“Hmmm,” Namaari looks at it. “You don’t mind if I try it?”

“Go ahead, the mat is cushy enough for your hard head.”

Namaari chalks up her hands and takes a position at the start. Her hands flex and then she lifts up.

It was a power boulder, not Raya’s favorite, focusing mostly on pure strength, and she can’t help but admire the way Namaari’s arms bulge as she completes the first two moves. She stills on the hold Raya was stuck on, and Raya bites her lip to keep from smiling too widely, ignoring the heat of Sisu’s disapproving glare.

Namaari’s head tilts down, as if another foothold would magically appear, and then, Raya can see her arms and back straining, Namaari sticks out her leg and smears her foot into the wall. Raya sucks in a breath as Namaari reaches and grabs the next hold.

Raya barely watches as Namaari finishes the last move, just blinking as Namaari lands heavily on the mat, face contorted into a smirk.

“Not sure why you think it’s a V8, I just flashed it.”

“You fucking binturi.”

“Do you think I’m not good enough to flash a V8?”

“I hate you.”

Sisu sighs heavily beside her and Raya releases the hold she has on her chalk bag. Namaari grins and waves as she walks away.

She hates that Namaari could just do it. Hates her stupid muscles that can pull her up so easily, her extra length that can reach the stupid hold, she hates how good Namaari looks with her muscles straining and the stupid smirk on her unfortunately beautiful face.

But mostly, she hates that Namaari smearing had given her an idea for a new beta. And she hates it even more when she tops the problem by the end of the day.

Fucking Namaari.

As she leaves the gym, she can’t help but notice that Namaari is struggling with a V5 of her own on the slab wall. Raya looks at it for a minute, only turning away when she thinks Namaari might see her staring, and huffs out to her car.

At least she sent it before they changed that wall.

Raya hasn’t been climbing for long. Relatively speaking.

When Sisu announced she was leaving her old yoga studio, Raya had been overjoyed. She’d been telling her to quit for months, ever since her old manager left and the new one was prone to such niceties as posting the schedule a couple hours before the first shifts would start or demanding you bring in a doctor’s note when you were calling out sick. The worst had been when they were two hours down the road on a long weekend trip and she had started calling Sisu incessantly because Sisu was “missing” her shift despite Sisu asking for it off weeks ago.

Raya had turned the car back, mostly because Sisu looked like she was going to cry and she didn’t want to add to her stress (even if they were not going to get a refund), but had sat down with her later and told her she would help her find a new studio. Sisu had eventually found one herself, a month later, and Raya had found herself across from her for celebratory drinks after Sisu gave her notice and babbled about her new job.

“And I’m excited because it’s not just yoga there’s a gym and all the climbing stuff too and they said they’ll teach me about it.”

“Wait, climbing stuff?” Raya placed down her drink.

“Yeah, it’s a climbing gym.”

Raya frowned as her brain struggled to compute, “Like for adults?”

Sisu shrugged, “I’m pretty sure kids go too, but not like on their own.”

“How many adults go there?” Raya frowned.

“I don’t know, but it was pretty busy when I interviewed.”

“Really? Climbing? Like jungle gyms and stuff? Are there competitive monkey bars I’ve never heard of?”

Sisu stared at her for a long moment and then burst out laughing, “Oh Raya, no! Rock climbing! Up walls and stuff.”

“Oh,” Raya mumbled as her cheeks burned red. At college there’d been a rock climbing wall attached to the school gym, which had been cool she supposed, she’d never tried it. “There's a whole gym just for that?”

“Yeah,” Sisu said, “Though they offer yoga classes and they have some exercise equipment. Mostly free weights but I’m pretty sure there were some treadmills and stuff.”

“Huh.”

“I’ll show you when you come, you’ll come to one of my classes right?”

“Of course!” Raya agreed easily. It was practically a tradition for Raya to come to her first class at a new studio.

“Awesome! And I’ll see if you can join me when they try to teach me to climb.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Sisu said, “I mean, I’d rather have someone else there without a clue. And in case I need the hospital after breaking my leg.”

“Thanks,” Raya bit back a laugh.

And the rest was, well not history, but Raya had joined her for the training session and found it more fun than she ever could have guessed.

It helped, Raya knew, that she was good at it. Sure, she didn’t (and still doesn’t) know all the techniques, but the first problems she felt like she was born to climb (and then her hands had started to hurt, the skin feeling tender and rough anytime she tried to grip a hold. The route setter who was teaching them had insisted that if she came back enough times that would soon fade and instead she’d be feeling the tendons in her hands instead of the skin. It hadn’t been as encouraging as she thought he meant it to be, but he’d been right).

The route setter hadn’t been impressed, they were only on the baby of baby difficulties, but he’d remarked that she was one of the fastest he’d seen catch on (and she hoped that didn’t just reflect his abilities as a teacher). She was only half sure that he wasn’t just flattering her.

She’d learned that the climbing version of gym bros mostly consisted of shirtless guys who half yelled as they made difficult moves and seemed to think the best way to get someone's attention was to climb a hard problem right in front of them and not say a word.

So, Raya found herself with a membership pass that really felt too expensive to justify, even with Sisu’s friends and family discount, and started heading to the gym half the days of the week after work. It was her first time as an adult regularly exercising (which she didn’t want to think too hard about) and the bonuses of seeing Sisu most of the time were as good as the muscle definition she was slowly gaining.

And, she’d made some sorta friends.

There was Noi, practically a baby who Raya wasn’t sure should be allowed to climb without a spotter, but was somehow better than all of them. Buon, a nice teenager who had kindly requested her to spot him on a bat-hang problem and they had been friendly ever since. Tong, an older man who grew up climbing outside, but now his “bones and joints were catching up with him” and he preferred to climb where there was easier access to medical attention. Not that Raya had ever seen him need it. And of course, there was Namaari.

Namaari and her had met at an Intro to Technique class around Raya’s fourth month climbing and Raya had thought that they would be great friends.

And it had been great, Raya was certain that she’d made a new friend (one of her first as a full blown adult), until Namaari cut in front of her and beta sprayed one of her projects. She’d even smiled at Raya, like she didn’t know exactly what she was doing. Raya had refused to climb that one again, even though it would have been her first V4.

She’d heard of beta spraying of course, it was part of the the lingo that Sisu’s route setting coworker had given them, but she hadn’t experienced it until Namaari stood behind her with arms crossed and a petulant frown, demanding, “What?”

They hadn’t gotten along ever since.

And since then, maybe Raya hadn’t been the most polite (but she’d only admit that under oath), but it wasn’t like Namaari was so nice either. And so what if she was here earlier than she normally would be working on the slab she’d seen Namaari on.

It was just fair game.

She estimates she has about 30 minutes before Namaari arrives. She loves slab, the balancing and flexibility challenges her (and she hopes improves her technique) and didn’t beat her down like the power boulders Namaari favored. She was strong, yes, but those ones seemed to constantly destroy every little muscle she did and didn’t know she had. It’s like they were there just to mock her and her muscles.

This one looked tricky, the crimps were terrible and pretty chalked up, and one foothold halfway up looked like a surefire way to bang a knee into the wall and walk away with a bruised ego and kneecap. She’d hopped on it a couple times the last two sessions when Namaari hadn’t been around, but Namaari had shown up not long after and she hadn’t really gotten anywhere as she scurried to find a problem in the opposite direction.

The start wasn’t so bad, and Raya brushes her hands into her chalk bag as she lets out a breath. She knew she should try to plan each move before hopping on the wall, but she didn’t have the patience (or in her opinion, the skill). Hell, she was still learning to not rush into a problem and actually take a moment to look at where all the holds were and guess at a basic path and what the crux was.

Raya takes a deep breath, rolling her shoulders as she steps up, grabs the starting holds, and begins.

Oh.

Gravity deposits her on her butt and she stares at the sneakily slippery footholds. So maybe she shouldn’t have assumed that the start was easy just because she’d managed it last time. With a huff and a quick glance to make sure no one was waiting for the problem, she stands back up and approaches the holds.

It takes her two more tries to get the starting move, and then she flows through, concentrating on driving power to her toes. She balances and releases a breath, before falling to the left to get to the next hold.

She grins as she catches herself, adjusting her feet as she clings to the crimp that she knows she’ll be feeling in her fingers all tomorrow. She switches her feet, hopping slightly and digging in as if they could suddenly find more surface area on the hold.

And then she’s sliding.

Down.

She’s flat on her back and staring at the ceiling, blinking while her breath escapes in uneven puffs as her heart hammers against her chest.

She’s okay.

Nothing is screaming and she lifts her head and lets out a relieved sigh when she doesn’t see anyone staring at her. She half crawls away, scooting until there’s plenty of room between her and the wall, and clutches at her chest as she takes deep, even breaths. She didn’t hit the wall on the way down, her ankles feel fine, and the only thing pulsing is her heart. She focuses on breathing as she watches a climber on a V1 about twenty feet down the wall.

It feels crazy that she was in the exact same position a year and a half ago. She resists yelling something encouraging as the girl stares at the hold that’s within reach but requires her to switch feet, leaving one dangling without a place to put it, and watches as the girl slowly climbs back down.

Raya had started fairly fearless, she figured there were nice mats all around, and it wasn’t like it could be that dangerous or the gym would have been sued to bankruptcy. And then, about a month into climbing, within a span of a week, she’d seen one person on the ground, their foot bent unnaturally and she’d jumped from the top of the wall and banged her knee against her chest and her whole body had freaked out a little.

She hadn’t been hurt, just gotten a bruise on her chest that wasn’t even big enough to show off. But the next week everytime she made it past halfway and didn’t feel absolutely secure, her heart had pounded and her hands had sweat and she’d bailed on problem after problem.

Sisu had been the one who convinced her to spend a whole day practicing falling. Climb a little higher each time and just let go. It had helped, even if Raya felt like an idiot the whole time.

She still got nervous at the top, and on a couple routes that had dicey moves on the last holds, she just decided that her top was the holds before. Climbing was just for fun, she wasn’t going to do something that could get her seriously injured just for what, a little pride?

Raya stands and rolls her shoulders, trying to get relaxed. She can get to the crux, and, glancing at the clock, she still had plenty of time to figure it out. She hopes.

She walks to the bottom and carefully starts the problem again. Flowing through the lower moves easily and she grins as she gets to the place she fell. With a loud exhale, she drives her hips towards the wall as she lets go to grab the next hold, and pulls up her next foot to a crimpy handhold. It gives her just enough stability to drive upwards and reach the next.

With a pounding heart, she scrambles up the last two holds and whoops as she clutches the top of the wall. Raya drops down and grins.

She’s got this.

She looks back over at the girl on the V1 and grins as the girl makes it past the hold she’d stopped on and reaches for the finishing hold, clutching it with a smile of her own. Raya flashes her a thumbs up as she drops down, a thrilled flush to her, and then turns back to the problem.

She’ll do this one more time just to make sure she’s got it, and then she’ll work on some others. She doesn’t want to try it in front of Namaari today, her fingers are already aching a bit and she does want to give the underhang V6 another go, but this week, she’ll show Namaari exactly how it’s done.

Namaari doesn’t need to know it wasn’t a flash.

Two days later, Raya is trying to not stare at the door. She’s finished her own warmups and is half-heartedly working on the overhang that’s still haunting her, but she’s not trying that hard, mostly solidifying the first couple moves to keep her fingers relatively fresh.

“Who are you looking for?”

Sisu appears out of nowhere and Raya clutches her heart, “Sisu! I could have fallen if I was on the wall.”

“But you weren’t.”

“Don’t scare me like that.”

Sisu rolls her eyes. “Your crush walked in five minutes ago.”

“Namaari isn’t my crush!”

Sisu raises one eyebrow. “And yet you knew I was talking about Namaari.”

She skitters away with a grin and Raya clenches her fists. That damn, fuck, why was she friends with her again? She looks back at the overhang and watches a shirtless guy fall off on the second move. Fucking Sisu. And fucking Namaari.

She makes one more attempt before looking around the gym and finds Namaari warming up. She climbs down from a V1 and immediately moves on to a V2, and once she finishes that a V3. Raya watches as she hops down from that and then makes her way over the slab wall, and Raya whips her head back to overhang when she sees Namaari’s face turn towards her.

Just be cool, Raya thinks to herself, be cool and go over there in a few minutes after she tries it again. You can do it and no one will know you practiced it. She takes a minute to gather her things, fumbling uselessly with her chalk bag before she takes a deep breath and stands.

She watches as Namaari starts on the problem, and saunters over. She’s ten feet away when Namaari’s foot slips out from under her on a tiny foothold about a third of the way up the wall.

“Ouch,” Raya says, trying not to notice how nice Namaari looks on the ground.

“Raya,” Namaari says shortly.

“What is this?” Raya asks, “A V2?”

“Ha ha.” Namaari says shortly, her eyes darting to the tag that clearly states V6. “If you think it’s so easy why don’t you do it?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” Raya grins and as she turns away from Namaari’s stupid, binturi face. She grimaces once her face is hidden. My pleasure? Why the fuck did she say that?

Namaari scoots out of the way, “By all means.”

Raya makes it a production, wiping her shoes and bathing her hands in chalk. With another deep breath, she carefully grabs the starting holds and lifts herself up.

For a second, her body tries to fall, and Raya bites her lip as she reminds herself that she can do this. She’s done it twice already.

She reaches for the first hold, keeping her hips tight to the wall, and as her fingers dig into the crimp, her body remembers. Reaching and driving and grabbing and pulling, and she’s at the top of the wall, clutching it with both hands.

She turns her head slightly, smirking at the gobsmacked face of Namaari, and she drops, not bothering to downclimb at all.

“Are you sure it wasn’t a V2?” Namaari’s sitting and Raya looks down at her, hands on her hips.

“What? How? Did?” Namaari can’t form a complete sentence and Raya kneels down so they are face to face.

“Slab really isn’t your speed is it?”

“I, two weeks! You!” Namaari sputters.

Raya grins before standing and walking away, waving as she calls out, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

She looks back one last time.

Namaari still hasn’t closed her mouth.

Raya plops down onto the mat, breathing heavily and her heart racing. She needs a break or she might tweak her wrist again. Or strain her tendons. She focuses on getting her breathing back to a manageable rate and gulps as she sees Namaari midway up a power boulder. Her body could be used in an anatomy class, each muscle proudly on display as Namaari shifted and reached.

Was it really fair for her to be wearing that tight of a tank top?

Raya pulls at her shirt, was it hot in here?

“You’re drooling.”

Raya slams her mouth closed and wipes fruitlessly at her chin, “Shut up Sisu.”

Sisu laughs beside her, “You checked!”

Raya huffs and crosses her arms, watching as Namaari locks herself into position.

God, she was thirsty.

Why didn’t she bring a water bottle? Raya fans herself and debates whether she should get up and drag herself to one of the water fountains.

“You know, if you asked I’m sure she’d top you!”

“Sisu!” Raya lets out a gasp of outrage, “I do not. I. That is not! Anything! NO!”

“Hmm your silence speaks volumes.”

“This isn’t silence! What part of that was silence?!”

Raya turns her head back to the wall just to see Namaari jumping down from the top. Fuck, she missed it.

“Raya, my dear friend, if you looked at me like that I would already be in your bed.” Sisu whispers into her ear.

“Sisu!” Raya yells and then hisses, “I do not want to fuck her!”

“So why don’t you ask her out?”

“Cause she’s a bitch!” Raya says, maybe a little too loud if the turned heads were any indication.

“That’s a lot of staring for disliking her. Besides you don’t need to like someone to fuck ‘em.”

“Just because Namaari is,” Raya waves her hand out.

“Hot.”

“An extremely capable climber.”

“Oh my god,” Sisu says, “Are you fucking with me?”

“What?!”

“You’re hopeless, okay? Just go over, get under her, away from here, and hopefully that will solve all your guys' weird tension.”

“We don’t have weird tension! I just don’t like her!”

Sisu just stares at her until she finally pats her on the shoulder, “Oh honey. Methinks this is too much protesting for the celibate.”

“I’m not celibate!” Raya hisses back, “It may have been a little while.”

“A little while,” Sisu mocks and Raya regrets ever telling Sisu anything about her (lack) of a sex life. “Come on, I’m sure she’s quite capable in things other than climbing.”

Raya pinches her nose, “Her skills aren’t even as good as mine.”

“Raya,” Sisu cackles, “You truly are a disaster lesbian.”

“Hey! That’s not! I meant climbing!”

Sisu just laughs.

“Shut up,” Raya stands. She’s rested enough.

“Oooh, Namaari started up again.”

Raya whips around so fast her hair smacks her in the face to see Namaari still sitting on the map, telegraphing moves as she stares up at the wall. Sisu’s bent over laughing and Raya storms off, flipping Sisu off behind her.

Raya struggles with the third move and drops to the mat with a sigh of frustration. She crawls, undignified, out of the way so other people could get on the wall and debates whether any of this was worth it.

She huffs as her eyes track Namaari, working on a problem across the gym that started with a tricky dyno. Raya swallows as Namaari’s back flexes and she wheels back and launches herself forward, flying through the air with slightly too much momentum as her hands grip at the hold and try to slow herself to no avail. She lands heavily onto the mat, a thump that she can hear from here.

Raya winces and stands, only to sit back down as Namaari sat up, clapping her hands in frustration. Tong helps her to her feet and nudges her shoulder that, from personal experience, Raya knows is always a little harder than he means it, and soon Namaari is chuckling at whatever he’s saying.

Raya just makes a note of the problem and turns back to her own.

So what if she’d been doing that these past three weeks. Making a special note of the boulder Namaari ended on and then figuring out how to do it in the time before Namaari arrived at the gym? And maybe leaving work early one day to have enough time on a really tricky V7 slab that had taken her a week to figure out (which had been only her second V7 that she’s ever topped)? And then finishing it right in front of Namaari’s face?

She would have stopped, if Namaari didn’t flash every power boulder that she was working on. And sure, Raya had seen Namaari top a V8 once, but she’d worked on that one basically since it was put up till the walls changed. So it wasn’t a surprise she could power through the V6’s that were the bane of her existence but it was still a V6 for fuck’s sake.

And she was the beta sprayer! It was only fair she had something to rub Namaari’s face into.

Last Friday, Raya watched as Namaari breezed through a V5 that Raya was pretty sure was impossible if you weren’t well over 6 feet.

It wasn’t like Raya was saying that she flashed the coordination problem that she’d seen Namaari try over and over again. She just wasn’t saying she hadn’t. It wasn’t her fault that Namaari assumed that she was.

Her eyes drift back to Namaari, pointing and talking through the holds with Tong, and it really was unfair how her arms looked just standing there. She wasn’t even flexing! Raya bit her lip and then dragged her eyes back to her own problem before Sisu could catch her.

Raya nods at Pengu as she checks in, looking around to try to find Sisu. She’d been here earlier during her usual time, but her manager had called about twenty minutes into the session and she’d had to go back to work. Sisu promised her drinks after her own shift ended, and after eating dinner, Raya had enough time that she figured she’d just fill the rest with a couple attempts of that stupid V7 while she waited for Sisu to get off.

Sisu is nowhere to be seen, so after she changes her shoes, she beelines to the V7 that was certainly going to make her lose her sanity.

“What the fuck?!”

Raya freezes as she sees Namaari halfway up, shaking out one of her arms as she looks up to the top of the wall. Namaari’s head whips around and her eyes widen as she sees her, and she drops down clumsily, face growing rapidly redder.

“Raya,” Her voice sounds weak and Raya marches right in front of her.

“You!” Raya points a finger at her, all the breath missing from her lungs.

“You’re here late,” Namaari says sheepishly.

“Were you working on my problem!” Raya demanded as she took a step closer. “When I wasn’t here?!”

“Um,” Namaari licks her lips, eyes darting everywhere but Raya’s face, “Yeah? But it’s not like you have ownership over the problems! Anyone can climb them!”

Raya shakes her head, “I know that! But what? You were going to pretend to flash it when I was here?”

“Uh,” Namaari’s voice stutters, “No?”

“That sounded like a question.”

Namaari lets out a heavy breath and closes her eyes. Raya stares at her for a moment, breathless for a different reason until Namaari opens her eyes again and shrugs, “Fine, maybe I was going to imply that, okay?”

“I can’t believe you,” Raya rears back and then pinches her nose, “Who do you think you are? Like what the hell?”

“Um.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Raya yells and turns away.

“I was just trying to keep up!” Namaari scrambles up and Raya hates her a little more as she is forced to minutely tilt her head up to look at her. “You kept flashing all of mine!”

“So what? You cheated and lied?!”

The room was silent and Raya suddenly felt the eyes of every single person in the climbing gym on them.

“Oh come on!” Sisu calls, “Raya you’ve been doing the exact same thing!”

Namaari’s eyebrows raise and Raya takes a step back. When had they gotten so close? “Sisu!”

Sisu stares at both of them with hands on her hips, “You’re both frauds working on the other’s problems when they aren’t here and pretending to flash them. It’s the weirdest form of flirting I’ve ever seen.”

“We aren’t flirting!”

“That’s not flirting!”

Namaari and Raya yell at the same time.

Sisu rolls her eyes, “Whatever, please skip to the part where you guys realize you’re being ridiculous and just k-”

“OKAY!” Raya cuts her off.

Namaari frowns between them. “You really do that?”

Raya’s mouth flutters open and closed. She sighs, “Yeah.”

They stare at each other until Namaari starts to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

Namaari could barely get the words out in between laughs, “We’re- so- stupid- doing- the- same thing!”

Raya finds herself joining Namaari’s contagious laughter, “I guess so.”

The few people around them give them a wide berth as they laugh. Raya wipes away a tear and shakes her head at Namaari, “You did it first!”

“Not on purpose!” Namaari held up her hands, “I had done that one earlier that day and I thought it would be funny. But then you kept flashing my projects and I wanted to keep up.”

“Oh,” Raya feels all the fight fall out of her, “Um. Well, then.”

They both avoided each other’s gaze. “I guess we could,” Raya says, “If you really wanted to. Climb together.”

“Um yeah,” Namaari rubs the back of her neck, “We could do that.”

“Great job lesbians,” Sisu said and Raya whips her head to find her still standing there looking much too amused, “I’m off in thirty!”

“I know!” Raya calls back and watches as she thankfully walks away.

Raya was prepared for an awkward climbing session after Sisu slinks off. Thirty minutes of them milling around together and trying to not smirk at the other’s mistakes and then they’d forget the whole thing had ever happened and maybe change their climbing schedules so they never saw each other again.

Instead, Namaari works on the V7 as Raya warms up and then takes a step back and allows Raya to climb and doesn't laugh when Raya can’t make it past the second move.

“Do you want advice?” Namaari hovers behind her after Raya has crawled away from the wall.

“No.” Raya grunts out.

Namaari nods and then makes her attempt, and Raya bites her tongue to keep from saying anything as Namaari goes double the distance and to what Raya was pretty sure is the crux. She hangs there, her arms bulging, and wow, it really was amazing close up, and Raya wishes she has her waterbottle and oh fuck, she’s looking back, she’s looking-

“Is my foot close to the foothold?”

Raya almost shakes herself, but squints behind the volume that blocks Namaari’s view and at her flailing foot about a whole foot under the next foothold.

“Not really, need to go about a foot up!”

Namaari grunts as she tries to bring her foot up, skipping it across the wall, and her knee hits the volume and her hips collapse and she falls.

“Ow,” Namaari grunts.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Namaari scoots away from the wall and shakes her limbs, “Just not as flexible as you are. I don’t think that is the right beta, not for me, but I figured I should try.”

Raya didn’t have anything to say to that.

And it continued, a comradery that she hadn’t truly had with anyone else. Tong was leagues above her technically, Boun focused on the few comp style boulders that Raya preferred to stay far away from, and Noi small and light enough that power basically meant nothing. She had forgotten how easy it was with Namaari, how they were both roughly the same skill level even if they liked different problems.

Though Raya could take or leave Namaari’s advice when she decided to hear it. There had been a memorable occasion where Namaari just shrugged and repeated, “Just grab it.” While Raya had almost torn her hair out.

Just grab it? Yeah, no shit she was trying to grab it.

And when Raya had snapped at her for beta-spraying she’d apologized and well, she didn’t need the kissy faces that Sisu made behind Namaari’s back, but it wasn’t like she was unaware of how fucking hot she was. It was a little unfair and made her feel drab in comparison. Especially since Namaari seemed blind to it all.

They were approaching friends now, a week and a half into this new arrangement, and Raya was trying to figure out how to ask her to hang out outside of climbing. Would Namaari think it was a date? Did she want it to be a date? Would their friendship work if they weren’t staring at holds and walls together? Would it be awkward? Would they actually have to change when they climbed because Raya was perfectly fine with staying just friends.

Even just climbing buddies would be okay.

Namaari was, well she was funny, Raya was annoyed to learn. She’d had glimpses of it before, but now she found herself laughing loud enough to scare Noi.

Raya was mostly regretting every life choice she was making, working on this problem (with its outward facing start), climbing with Namaari (had her tank tops gotten tighter? How was she supposed to think when all Raya could see were her arms?), Sisu’s wink she’d given her as she checked in when she informed her that Namaari was here early, did she mention this outward facing problem?

“You got this,” Namaari grins at her and flashes a thumbs up.

“Maybe if you turned around,” Raya grumbles.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Raya looks up and reaches for the first hold, as she contorts her body, slowly towards the wall. It’s tricky, and she’s too hot for this, already the chalk is almost purposeless on her hands as she leans to the left to get her foot on the sliver of a foothold.

The next move isn’t bad, almost a stabilizing one as she now faces the wall like normal, and she chances a glance down, back at Namaari.

Namaari’s grinning, and then her neck flexes and suddenly Raya is on her back and blinking up at the fluorescent gym lights.

“Raya!” Namaari crouches over her, “Are you alright?”

No, she isn’t, because Namaari is right above her and this was something out of a romance novel and- was it really hot in here?

“You’re all red,” Namaari leans closer.

Fuck it.

Raya leans up and kisses Namaari on the lips, hands tracing Namaari’s arms, and oh god, they are as hard as they look.

Her nerves are on fire. Her body shaking with an electric buzz underneath her skin. It’s a dream, it’s a promise her body cashed and her brain denied, and it’s happening right now. Namaari’s lips are soft on hers, and when she imagined this (not that she’d admit she did), she thought it would likely include one of them pinning each other to a wall.

Though she supposes the floor is a kind of wall.

Namaari breaks it, sitting up and looking down at her with deep, dark eyes that promise everything she tries to pretend she doesn’t want. “Hi,” she breathes out.

“Hi.” Raya stares at her, licking her lips.

“So you like me?” Namaari says.

“Um,” Raya’s brain is blank and the words swim in the air between them as her breath calms down and she tries to focus on something other than the delicious press of Namaari’s legs straddling her. When did that happen? “What?”

Namaari laughs and Raya blinks as it vibrates through her body. Has she ever heard Namaari laugh like that before? She could get addicted to the sound and she finds herself licking her lips again.

“I said, you like me?”

“Oh,” Raya breaks eye contact and feels her body flush even warmer, “Um, yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“You guess?” Namaari leans down so she’s whispering into her ear and Raya feels goosebumps break out all over her skin.

“Yeah,” Raya breathes out, “And I guess this means that you like me too.”

Namaari leans back, a wide smile on her face, “You could say that. I was flirting with you for so long that I was beginning to think that I missed my chance.”

“Wait,” Raya hits her on the shoulder, “Did you start doing my problems to get me to like you? Did you think that would work?”

“Well it did,” Namaari defends.

“It did not!”

Namaari lifts an eyebrow and stares at her and Raya has half a mind to bury her face in her hand.

“We can stop,” Namaari breathes out, “Pretend this never happened-”

“No,” Raya would hate the whine in her voice if she had the presence of mind.

Namaari presses another kiss to Raya’s lips. Like before, her brain goes empty as she focuses on the the taste, just a hint of salt and something earthy, the subtle press of lips that is driving her body wild, the-

“HEY! I’M HAPPY FOR YOU BUT YOU’RE IN PUBLIC.”

A chalk bag flies over them and Namaari jerks off of her while Raya covers her face in her hands.

“Sorry, Sisu!” Namaari calls.

“I’m not cleaning up after you fu-”

“SISU!” Raya screeches and sits up.

Sisu is grinning at them and then flashes a thumb’s up. Raya groans.

“Are you busy tonight?” Namaari whispers in her ear as she helps Raya stand.

Raya shakes her head, “My whole evenings wide open.”

“Me too,” she grins, “You want to figure out this problem? Or leave?”

Raya looks at the wall for a moment, but her brain is buzzing so loudly that she wasn’t even sure she could think about anything other than the woman beside her. She holds out a hand for Namaari to take, “Let’s go.”

“Yes, let’s go lesbians!”

“Shut up, Sisu!”

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #my writing: rayaari #my writing: raya and the last dragon #my writing #mine

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vl-10 · 1 year ago

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I love everything about this, it made me think about what would a freight 5rain behaviour be like if it was this kind of fucked up millipede. The freight trains commonly have one or two pulling locomotives, while passenger trains like these have motors on all carriages. This would maybe mean that the locomotives stalk their prey, and lurk before you can hear the rumble of the diesel engine and the higher and higher pitch of the dyno, before you get smashed to bits by its solid steel faceplate

Perfectly normal train running to greet you cmon give it a hug (FYI, its this guy i drew half a year ago and i still think about it)

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enginetec · 24 days ago

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Can a Reconditioned Range Rover Engine Improve Performance and Efficiency?

The Range Rover is renowned for its blend of luxury, off-road prowess, and advanced technology. However, like any other vehicle, engine wear and tear can impact its performance over time. When faced with engine failure or declining efficiency, many owners consider replacing their Range Rover engine. This is where reconditioned engines come into play. A reconditioned Range Rover engine is one that has been carefully disassembled, inspected, and rebuilt to factory specifications using new or refurbished parts. Not only is this a cost-effective alternative to buying a new engine, but it also raises a key question: can it actually improve your vehicle’s performance and efficiency? This article explores the many ways in which a reconditioned Range Rover engine can enhance driving performance, fuel economy, and long-term reliability. Through detailed sections, we will dive into how these engines are restored, what benefits they offer, and why they are a smart choice for Range Rover owners who want the best of both power and efficiency. If you're considering engine replacement or seeking a better understanding of reconditioned engines, this guide provides all the essential insights.

What is a Reconditioned Range Rover Engine and How is it Different from a Used One?

A reconditioned engine is not the same as a used engine pulled from a salvage yard. While a used engine is typically sold "as-is" with no refurbishment, a reconditioned Range Rover engine undergoes a complete overhaul. Technicians disassemble the engine, clean all components, and inspect each part for wear or damage. Components such as pistons, valves, gaskets, seals, and timing belts are replaced if necessary. This process ensures that the engine meets or exceeds original factory specifications. Unlike used engines, reconditioned engines are often tested thoroughly for compression, emissions, and performance before being made available for sale. This attention to detail results in improved reliability, performance, and fuel efficiency compared to a used engine. For Range Rover owners, this means restoring the vehicle’s original power and smooth operation without the high cost of a brand-new engine. The reconditioning process not only breathes new life into an older vehicle but also ensures peace of mind through warranties and quality control that are absent in typical used engine purchases.

Enhancing Engine Performance Through Reconditioning Techniques

One of the biggest concerns for Range Rover owners is the decline in power and responsiveness over time. A reconditioned engine directly addresses these issues. The reconditioning process restores key components to their optimal state, often including high-precision machining of cylinder heads, re-boring of cylinders, and replacement of critical internal parts like crankshafts, bearings, and camshafts. This restoration allows the engine to function as close to new as possible, improving throttle response, acceleration, and torque. Reconditioned Range Rover engines are frequently dyno-tested to ensure they deliver consistent power output across the rev range. This results in a smoother, more powerful driving experience that can rival a new engine's performance. Furthermore, many reconditioning services upgrade certain parts with modern, high-performance materials, which can provide even better durability and output than the original design. For performance enthusiasts or owners with older Range Rover models, this means experiencing renewed engine performance without sacrificing the vehicle’s identity.

Boosting Fuel Efficiency: Can Reconditioned Engines Save You Money?

A poorly performing engine often leads to increased fuel consumption, which is a common complaint among Range Rover owners. Factors such as worn piston rings, leaky gaskets, and inefficient combustion can cause the engine to work harder than necessary, burning more fuel in the process. A reconditioned engine fixes these issues, restoring optimal combustion and sealing performance. Because all the vital components are either replaced or refurbished, a reconditioned engine can operate more efficiently. This directly translates to improved fuel economy. For example, better fuel atomization and compression can reduce engine strain, leading to more miles per gallon. Many customers report a noticeable improvement in fuel economy after installing a reconditioned Range Rover engine, especially in urban driving conditions where engine efficiency plays a more significant role. Over the lifespan of the engine, these savings can add up substantially, offsetting the cost of the reconditioning process and making it an eco-friendlier choice as well.

Extending Engine Lifespan with Professional Reconditioning Services

One of the primary benefits of investing in a reconditioned Range Rover engine is the extended lifespan it offers. Instead of dealing with frequent breakdowns or engine failure, owners receive a unit that has been meticulously restored with new seals, bearings, pistons, and other essential components. These improvements significantly reduce the likelihood of premature wear and mechanical failure. Reconditioned engines often come with extended warranties, which further assures customers of their durability. With proper maintenance, a reconditioned engine can last as long as a brand-new one sometimes even longer if the reconditioning process involved certain performance or durability upgrades. This means that Range Rover owners can continue enjoying their vehicle for many more years without the risk of ongoing mechanical issues. A longer-lasting engine also means fewer disruptions, reduced repair costs, and a more reliable driving experience, especially for those who use their Range Rovers for off-road adventures or long-distance travel.

Environmental Benefits: A Greener Choice in Engine Replacement

Choosing a reconditioned engine is also an environmentally responsible decision. The automotive industry generates a significant amount of waste through scrapped engines and new manufacturing processes. Reconditioning reduces this impact by recycling and reusing existing engine blocks and other parts. This practice conserves valuable resources and reduces the carbon footprint associated with producing a new engine. Furthermore, since reconditioned Range Rover engines are restored to operate efficiently, they produce fewer emissions and consume less fuel than old, poorly maintained engines. For environmentally conscious Range Rover owners, this makes reconditioning a greener option that aligns with sustainable practices. It’s a practical way to maintain the performance and luxury of a Range Rover while making a positive contribution to the planet. The reduced environmental impact of engine reconditioning is just another reason why it’s gaining popularity among eco-aware consumers.

Cost-Effective Alternative to Brand-New Engine Replacement

A brand-new Range Rover engine can be prohibitively expensive, especially once labor and installation costs are added. On the other hand, a reconditioned engine provides a cost-effective solution without compromising on quality. Depending on the engine model and service provider, you can save up to 50% or more compared to the cost of a new engine. This makes reconditioned engines particularly attractive for owners who want to restore their vehicle’s performance without breaking the bank. It’s an ideal option for older Range Rover models whose market value may not justify the cost of a brand-new engine. Additionally, because most reputable reconditioning providers offer warranties and support packages, the financial risk is significantly reduced. It’s a smarter financial investment for people looking to maximize vehicle lifespan and performance while managing long-term automotive expenses.

Real-World Performance: What Range Rover Owners Say About Reconditioned Engines

Many Range Rover owners who opt for reconditioned engines report high levels of satisfaction. From better fuel economy to enhanced throttle response, the benefits are not just theoretical they’re noticeable in day-to-day driving. Whether navigating city streets or tackling off-road terrain, reconditioned engines often feel as capable and responsive as new ones. Real-world case studies and testimonials frequently mention smoother engine starts, quieter operation, and fewer mechanical issues after switching to a reconditioned engine. Owners also appreciate the transparency and detailed documentation often provided by engine reconditioning specialists, including dyno test results, part replacements, and service histories. These firsthand experiences build confidence in the value of reconditioned engines and reinforce their reputation as a reliable and high-performance alternative. As the market continues to grow, more Range Rover drivers are discovering the tangible advantages that come with a professionally reconditioned engine.

Choosing the Right Provider for Your Reconditioned Range Rover Engine

The key to realizing all these benefits lies in selecting a reputable reconditioning provider. Not all reconditioned engines are created equal. It's important to look for providers that specialize in Range Rover engines, have certified technicians, and use OEM (Original Equipment Manufacturer) or equivalent-quality parts during the rebuild process. Check whether they offer comprehensive testing, warranties, and support after installation. A reliable company will provide detailed service reports, test certifications, and clear communication throughout the process. This ensures that the reconditioned engine not only performs well but also integrates seamlessly with the rest of your vehicle’s systems. Don’t forget to review customer feedback and ratings, as real-world reviews often reflect the quality and reliability of the reconditioned engine. By choosing the right provider, you ensure that your Range Rover regains its original excellence if not better. Read the full article

#ReconditionedRangeRoverEngine #ReconditionedRangeRoverEngineforsale #ReconditionedRangeRoverEngines #supplyandfitReconditionedRangeRoverEngine

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