#eryton casini

[raitrolling]

Eryton/The Torpedo is the youngest / most recent of my ancestors, having died only about twenty sweeps before Sharle was hatched. So Sharle is his direct descendant

Fleure/The Tidality is the oldest both in age and time period he was hatched in, as he was alive before Her Imperious Condescension’s Empire conquered Alternia and then moved on to colonising other planets. However Linnae is also his direct descendant despite them being at least a thousand sweeps apart, as Ishimis are just that rare of a bloodline

all my other trolls have at least one other member of their bloodline hatched between them and their ancestor, though I’ve only kinda conceptualised two of them: Lusien’s older signmate Leyjar (who raised him until he was old enough to live independently, and now works as a navigator on a Fleetship), and Sigrun’s older signmate Adelie (who lives off-planet and works as a gondolier tour guide after she retired as an Orphaner, and is not aware of Sigrun’s existence)

[cloudbattrolls]

Pitch It To Me

Characters being completely inaccurately depicted here belong to @raitrolling, @lashysdomain, and @contrastparadoxx.

Title: Pitch It To Me

Author: genuineAdversary

Rating: T (NOT for wrigglers, get out of heeeere)

Archive Warning: :3

Relationships: ContraxVelour, Meet Me on the Runway (Pitch), VelourxSharle, Fast Fashion (Pitch), Lowblood!Y/N x Multiple, SharlexArtinos, Collateral Damage (Pitch), ContraxSharle, Final Destination (Pitch)

Tags: Soulmates, Contra Aurela, Velour, Artinos Sharle Casini, Soulmates AU, Regency AU, Pitchrom, Love Triangle, Pining

Summary: What happens when some of Alternia’s most famous and beautiful people are all in a different time and place together? A world where anything is possible? Sparks fly and spade passions will be inflamed…….

(Uhmmm no actual flames plz :3 this is my first fic in a long time!! I’ve been out of the scene for a while so be nice 2 me :’3

HERE WE GOOOOOO)

Contra’s tail swished nervously as she stood at the opulent entrance of the ball. Ohhh, it was just like the anxiety of being on set, except a million times worse!!

She stepped in cautiously…and was IMMEDIATELY bumped into by someone tall and clearly also rude!!

A scowl swept over her usually sweet face but then it turned to rapturous surprise as she stared up and realized who this handsome stranger was.

“V…Velour…” she murmured, angry but also flustered, violet sweeping across her cheeks as she felt compelled to curtsy politely.

The cuspblood’s cool eyes shone like aquamarines as he acknowledged her with a nod and extended his hand to her. The violet had to take a breath and steady herself before she took it and shook it, determined to not let this lower caste show her up. And in public too!!

“Miss Aurela.” Said the YouTuber with a suave, sultry tone. The markings under his eyes glistened under gorgeous crystal chandeliers.

“Aren’t you going to apologize to me?” She said, voice more snappish than she intended. She put her hands over her mouth in horror. What if she ruined her sweet reputation by being heard talking this way?

But she just couldn’t help it. They’d met before, back when she’d been a model…and something about him drew out her more fiery side, encouraging her to misbehave.

“Maybe later, if you earn it.” He said, releasing her hand but brushing his fingers against hers as he did so, turning and sweeping away in his gorgeous white and teal suit.

“Don’t be such a bad girl, miss Aurela.” Came the whisper as she lost sight of him in the crowd.

Her hands balled into fists. How dare he…

Then she was shoved past by someone who she only saw in a blur as he roughly pushed her aside, his stunning features stormy with impatience.

Even though she was irritated once more, the violet couldn’t help being taken by his intensity…

Sharle Casini. Descendant of the great Eryton Casini, always raging at being unable to escape his ancestor’s shadow…

Of course, she knew what it was like to have a famous ancestor too. 

“Hey, did those two brush you off, girl?” 

Another voice - this one unknown - slipped into her ears, making her fins quiver. 

“Who - who are you?” She said to the masked troll, only able to see his beautiful yet strange gray eyes.

“Artinos.” He said breezily. “Also known as the guy who will treat you much better than those two ever could.”

He smirked and winked at her, and Contra huffed in irritation, hands on her hips.

“We’ll see about that.” She retorted, finally stepping into the ballroom proper. He walked in right alongside her with that cocky gait, his fake tail waving a little too close to hers.

It was a marvel of splendor. The whole place was full of Alternia’s finest in all their finery, murmuring and mingling, while waiters scurried back and forth.

She began to feel…overwhelmed.

Luckily, she had a friend here.

One of the ‘waiters’ - Y/N - came up to her and said in a low voice. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine.” She muttered. She didn’t want to look weak in front of you. You made her want to look stronger, to BE stronger. 

She was so much more than just a pretty face! She’d show all those boys that!

As grand music played, Contra waltzed and sashayed across the floor, and as you watched her longingly, and jealously - you would never be allowed among all these nobles and royalty - she suddenly reached out and dragged you into the fray!

“Contra!” You gasped. “I don’t even have anything good to wear!”

“Are you afraid?” She breathed, a challenge in her visible eye. The other was always hidden by hair, befitting of her mysterious yet soft nature.

“These highbloods will kill me!” You hissed.

“Not if I can help it.” Growled Sharle, pushing his way in between the two of you to grab your hands and spin you away. 

“What?! Sharle, stop!” You growled, hating yourself for flushing at how he moved you about, struggling to keep up and not trip.

“He’ll never stop.” Remarked Artinos, taking your hand more gently. “Just like he doesn’t on the track.”

“Wh - hey!!” You protest. 

You’re all drawing quite the scene and EVERYONE is looking at you now, sneering at this lowblood being handled by all these highbloods, and then Velour steps up.

“None of you are good enough for Y/N or Contra.” He says. “They’re my soulmates.”

The whole ballroom gasped so loud, and then they were silent.

“This is a disgrace to your hue! How do you ever expect highblood society to accept you, Velour?” Cried one crowd member.

He tossed his wavy hair disdainfully. “I don’t need your acceptance; only your money. There is no designer as good as I am.”

“Shut up, YouTube apologizer.” piped someone else, and Velour blushed a beautiful teal-blue.

You smirked at it, but you couldn’t let it stand, either.

“Making a YouTube apology just means he could make up for what he did wrong.” You purr, loosing the buttons on your collar. 

Several people look away from your exposed neck, appalled.

“Even if he does do so many things wrong.” You drawl lazily as Velour scowls at you adorably.

“Wow, that’s really interesting.” Cuts in Artinos, holding a champagne glass. “If I was like, a three sweep old. 

“You race like one.” Scoffed Sharle. 

“Y/N! Why are you even humoring these boys?” Cried Contra, shaking her fists. 

Then she snarled and pulled out an elegant rapier, pointing it at all three of the highblood men.

“Y/N is MY pitch soulmate!” The normally meek seadweller declared. 

Sharle aggressively put his fists in retaliation, falling into a fighting stance. “No, they’re mine!”

Artinos folded his arms. “You all need to chill. They know who’s really got their back.” He winked at you again.

Velour took out a halberd from his syalldex, looking determined to fight for you as well.

Your pulse was racing! This was all moving so fast! But you couldn’t help feeling flattered as well…

“I’ll duel you all.” You declared, taking out your own trident, because you were secretly a fuchsia who’d lost their fins and had their gills sewn shut, and started swinging! 

Trolls began running and screaming from your terrible power as you clashed with the three highbloods, who looked STUPEFIED by this reveal! 

You drew all their blood, purple, violet, dark blue and cuspy teal all shedding on the floor, but you knew you couldn’t hurt them too badly, because really they were ALL your pitch soulmates and your destined spades!

You just had to explain all that, now that you’d won.

—

TO BE CONTINUED!

I don’t know when the next chapter will go up sorry everyone :’3 I’m really busy hahaha. Thank you for readiiiiing.

- genuineAdversary :3

[raitrolling]

he also has new games too, he plays iRacing because that's the closest he can get to training in the simulator (and he has the wholeass couple-thousand-dollar simulator rig thats the closest you can get to driving a real car just casually sitting in his living room), and he gets copies of the Alternian F1 games for free thanks to sponsors. yes he will play as himself, who else would he be

occasionally he gets invited to play on stream with other drivers, so he's got shit like Apex Legends or Call of Duty or whatever is the most popular at the moment

[raitrolling]

Southeastern Circuit, Four Sweeps Ago

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Qualifying in thirteenth place is unlucky for some, Sharle included. He barely scrambled past the first round of qualifying, and with only twenty seconds left to pass the chequered line to complete a final push for the second round, he lost control of the back end of the car and spun out. Another disappointing session for the rookie.

His teammate had qualified in fifth place. They expected as much from the senior driver, Konnen had been racing since before Sharle had even hatched. Not long enough to race against the legendary Torpedo, but hadn’t retired quick enough to not get stuck with Eryton’s scrappy little descendant. Sharle always felt that bitterness from his older teammate, from the way he looked at him to the derisive comments he’d make at the younger blueblood. Aggressive, egotistical, sloppy - The real Casini would not be making these mistakes. He wouldn’t push another driver onto the gravel mid-overtake, or lose his front wing on a first lap incident, and he certainly wouldn’t still be sitting at zero points ten races into the championship.

Sharle knew the pressure was on him to score points in the race, to prove his worth as both a member of Aeon Racing and the descendant of a four-time world champion. He rolls his car into unlucky position number thirteen after completing the formation lap, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in anticipation. On this track, a good start means everything. If he can just overtake three drivers on his first lap and maintain position for the rest of the race, he’s in the clear. Three drivers is nothing. He watches the lights start to count down.

The commentators start to hype up the crowd as everyone is watching in anticipation. Three… Two… One…

‘And its lights out, and away we go!’

Eleventh place has a horrible start, the driver is not focused enough and puts the car into an anti-stall. Sharle reacts quickly and swerves around the car in front of him, forcing fourteenth place to also run wide. The cars behind Sharle don’t matter to him, what matters is who’s ahead.

The commentators are struggling to keep up.

‘And Xersta Komaii has a great start, leaving the pack behind him as he takes the first corner, followed by Paseri Ellipe and his teammate Nivali Nardoh. The two Laudis are wheel to wheel, who’s going to get ahead- Or was that contact? We’ll have to check the replay. In the midst of it all there’s Liburr Konnen and further back his teammate Sharle Casini trying to barge his way up the grid to join him…’

The first few turns are tricky at the beginning of the race, when so many cars are wheel-to-wheel vying for any advantage available to them. He gains a position, he loses a position, he gains it back and shuts the door behind his rival to prevent them from overtaking. Some would argue it was a dirty move as the other car had to slow down to avoid a collision, but the stewards aren’t looking so closely during the first lap. He acknowledges his racing is unsportsmanlike, but anyone watching could understand the desperation behind it.

Hatched into the bloodline belonging to a champion. The wealth of a noble and the privilege of his ancestor’s legacy granting him easy access into the racing world. Driving karts the moment he was allowed behind a wheel. Practising night in, night out. Attracting attention from sponsors enthralled by the weight his surname carries. Forever living in the shadow of a man who died before Sharle could ever know him. That’s so unfortunate, they tell him. Imagine how you would be if he was here now, if you could be mentored by The Torpedo? Maybe you’d be better behaved, maybe you wouldn’t be making so many costly mistakes. Maybe then you’d deserve your place on the grid. That name’s the only thing you’ve got going for you, kid.

That name has been nothing but a burden to him, but without it he would have been passed over like every other driver fighting tooth and nail for one of those elusive twenty seats on the grid. A blessing and a curse.

He throws his car around the hairpin of turn 8 and slams into high gear, distancing himself further from twelfth place and slowly gaining on tenth. The Aeon may be closer to a midfield car, but its speed on the straights is where it truly shines. The gap decreases.

The gap decreases again around the chicane - thanks to Sharle cutting one of the corners by taking the turn too quickly. There’s no position to be gained, but his engineer warns him over the radio that doing that again will result in a penalty. Sharlie replies with a brusk “Copy, understood” and keeps pushing.

By the time he rounds the final corner of the track and makes it to the main straight, tenth place is within his sights. Once again relying on the car’s impressive top speed, he closes the gap without requiring the DRS to assist him. But it’s not enough, the two cars are rapidly approaching the braking zone into turn 1, and he’s not positioned correctly to perform the overtake. Passing on the outside on a right-hand turn is always risky.

‘And there goes the Aeon belonging to Sharle Casini, and it’s looking like he’s going to make a pass on Bayshi, but is that a good idea?’

‘He’s certainly got the speed, but…’

There’s not enough space for him to make it, but there’s still a gap. He has to go for it. That tenth place is just within reach…

The car in front suddenly lurches to the left to take a wider turn than Sharle expected, and his front right tyre connects with their rear left. The friction of the wheels connecting tears apart the rubber of the blueblood’s car, disrupting the axles and causing both cars to spin wildly out of control.

‘They’ve touched! Ohhh, that looks to be a big crash!’

The television feed quickly cuts to the battle for fourth place.

The front wing of the Aeon Racing car shreds into the body of the other car before fully dislodging. Carbon fibre flies everywhere and Sharle’s balance is thrown completely.

At three hundred kilometres per hour, Sharle’s car skids off the track and hits the kerb at an angle that sends it launching into the air and barrel-rolling through the gravel. He keeps lurching the steering wheel with all his might, desperate to right the car before his brain can catch up with what’s happening.

He sees the sky, then the ground, then the sky again, then the ground once more.

The crowd at the turn 1 grandstand watch in horror. Some jump out of their seats to try and get a closer look. Marshalls across the track start waving yellow flags to warn the other drivers. The TV feed does not cut back to the scene.

The top of the car slams against the tyre barrier with enough force to shove it against the fence, causing it to rattle and shake. The car rocks back slightly, and then rests against the barrier, leaving Sharle positioned sideways.

The dust cloud kicked up by the cars starts to dissipate. Debris of rubber and carbon fibre litters the ground. Smoke pours off the tyres of the other car, caught in the gravel trap. Bayshi throws his hands up in the air, his race has been ruined by a rookie’s arrogance. His engineer asks if he’s okay, and his response is saved for the future replay of the crash.

“What the fuck is Casini doing? Is he fucking blind?”

The crowd is silent. Only the sounds of the rest of the cars passing around the corner echo through the air.

Sharle is conscious, but with the amount of times his head was knocked around and only held in place with the HANS device, he wishes he wasn’t. The medical light flashes on the car in front of the cockpit, having registered a crash with well above 15Gs of impact.

‘It looks like the race will have to be red flagged after that, but we’ll still need confirmation that the driver is okay first…’

Filled with adrenaline, Sharle feels the tension more than he does the pain. He needs to get the car back on the track now. If he’s injured, he can’t race. If he can’t race, he won’t get the points. If he doesn’t get the points, his future as a driver will be at stake. The crowd is watching him, TV viewers are watching him, the rest of his team are watching him.

“Sharle? Confirming you’re okay, Sharle?”

The radio crackles to life, and he hears the voice of his engineer. He reaches to touch the radio button on his steering wheel, but as he takes in a breath to answer-

Agony. Pain lances up his arm and fills up his chest. He can barely breathe, trying to force words out but only succeeding in coughing. There’s a metallic taste in his mouth. Blood. The wheezes of a punctured lung can only be heard through the communications. This message is not broadcast live.

“Switch off the engine. Switch off the engine if you can. The medical team is coming for you. That was a nasty crash, kid.”

The radio switches off, and Sharle switches off the engine as instructed. He hears the sound of the other drivers pulling into the pit lane in the distance as the race is temporarily suspended, and the footsteps of the marshalls approaching his car to assist him. Bayshi doesn’t pause to check up on him, leaving his own car in the gravel as he walks back to the pits. He didn’t expect that the other driver would care.

“You okay there? Hold tight, we’re gonna right the car for you,” calls one of the safety marshalls.

Sharle wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to do something, anything to keep going. He can’t prove he’s worth his seat when he’s barely able to breathe. One hand desperately clutches at his chest as if still trying to hold his broken ribs together, while the other fumbles with the seatbelts. At the same time, the marshalls carefully roll his car over so all four wheels (or three wheels and one set of broken axles) are back on the ground. One radios that the driver is conscious, but they don’t mention the desperation in the blueblood’s eyes. A look that screams don’t tell them I’m hurt, I’ll get out on my own.

They don’t listen to him. They can’t, because he’s not speaking. They hear his ragged breaths and see the splashes of blood on the inside of his visor and tell him to keep calm, don’t worry, we’ll get you out so the medical team can send you straight to the hospital. They don’t realise that’s not where he wants to go. They are kind enough to finish unclipping his seatbelt for him and disconnect the HANS device from the harness. A marshall holds out their arms to begin to ease Sharle out of his seat, but he swats their hands away.

If nothing else, he needs to get out on his own. To prove he can stand on his own two feet.

He struggles. His legs don’t work how he wants them to, his shoulders and neck ache with even the most minute of moments, and his chest - No words can describe it. He grips onto the car’s halo for support, his figure wobbly and unstable in the T-cam view.

But as he stands, the previously-hushed crowd cheers.

That alone is enough to allow him to find the last amount of strength to climb out of the car. He turns to face them, barely able to see through the blood-smudged visor and his doubling vision, and waves. This is why he needed to prove he was okay. Some viewers will still see him as a good-for-nothing rookie who only got his seat thanks to his bloodline, but those in the grandstands will see the real side of him. The side that never wants to give up, who keeps pushing and fighting and struggling to come into his own and leave his ancestor’s shadow. The one who saw the potential end of his career flash before his eyes and chose to stand back up on his own two feet. The crowd is loving him, and his team will have to remember that.

Not too long after the moment of courage, he feels his legs start to give out underneath him. He sits back down on the ground to compensate, glad his helmet hides his pained expression and muffles the way he sucks in air through his teeth to prevent himself from screaming. The medical crew are then finally on the scene.

‘We’ve just received confirmation from the marshalls that Sharle is out of the car. The medical team has just arrived on the scene and it looks like he will be taken to hospital - As expected from a crash of that calibre. We’ll be showing the replays once we receive the okay to do so, and we have yet to be informed of when the race will restart. The track still need clearing of debris, and the tyre barrier will need to be repaired-’

The television feed cuts to a scene of the Aeon Racing garage. Expressions of pure relief on the faces of the engineers, the pit crew, the team principal.

Sharle removes his helmet as the medical team give him a quick triage, and he tastes the bitterness of the blood soaking through his balaclava. He hears them start to rattle off his injuries: Multiple potential broken ribs, suspected punctured lung, suspected muscle tears in upper body, scans required to check for head injuries. Immediate transport to the nearest hospital is required. He lets them move him onto the stretcher, and feels his consciousness finally start to fade…

…

When he wakes up, he is in a hospital bed. Through blurry eyes, he sees the team principal. And in his dazed, painkiller-addled mind, he swears he hears him speak:

“Sorry we pushed you too hard, Sharle. We’re still proud of you.”

[raitrolling]

A Penalty Served

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

(This is part 2 of Stop and Go.)

Ropikk attempted to hide her nervousness as much as possible as she stood outside the head office for Aeon Racing, smoothing down the collar of her button-up shirt and her pencil skirt for the fifth time in about two minutes and fixing her hair just as many times. She breathed in, then out, trying to not think about how sweaty her palms are.

Getting called into Mansel’s office for a ‘serious talk’ was something that rarely happened, making tonight one of the most stressful moments since her mandrake lusus last had a meltdown over her neighbours partying too loudly. 

Another breath in, another breath out. You can do this, girl, she reassured herself. He’s a good boss.

She swallowed all the anxious bile in her throat, then stepped forward to knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Called the voice belonging to the older man within the office.

With just enough hesitation to prevent herself from barging in full-throttle, Ropikk turned the handle and stepped inside.

Mansel Lonoma’s racing career had not been the most successful, but as a team principal he was both highly respected and reasonably accomplished for the decades he had worked in the role. The wall behind his desk contained his drivers’ most cherished trophies: Ropikk recognised Liburr’s Kazusumie win from ten sweeps ago, Sharle’s very first win at Lamonri during his second season, and three other trophies from well before her time. The rest of the team’s trophies were displayed in the foyer of Aeon Racing’s headquarters, with replicas replacing the ones the tyrian personally held onto.

In the centre of all the shelves was a photograph. A much-younger Mansel with his arm around a familiar-looking blueblood, dressed in a white race suit and holding up a championship trophy. The blueblood had never driven for Aeon Racing, but the two shared such a close friendship that after he had passed, Mansel had changed the colour of the team’s birdlike logo to the same cobalt in his honour. 

The spectre of Eryton Casini - otherwise known as The Torpedo - hung over more than just the team’s main driver. 

But, Ropikk was not here to gawk over her boss’ office that she has seen many times before. And neither was her boss interested in letting this matter drag out any longer than it should. The tyrian stared evenly at the jadeblood, seated at his desk with his fingers steepled in front of his face. The wrinkles that had set in around his eyes and mouth from decades of laughter now seemed intimidating when his signature bright smile framed by a well-groomed handlebar moustache was absent. 

“Ah- Mansel, sir!” Ropikk mentally cursed herself for that brief stutter. “Sorry, you wished to see me?” 

Her fingers brushed against the sides of her skirt, trying her hardest not to fidget. 

“I did. Take a seat now, shall we?” Mansel replied, briefly moving one hand to gesture to the chair on the other side of the desk. 

Ropikk nodded and complied, carefully pulling out the chair so it didn’t scrape against the tiled floors and then taking a seat. She kept her hands neatly in her lap, continuing to fight a losing battle against fidgeting. 

The team principal nodded in acknowledgement, and continued.

“Now, you know I don’t really want to be having these kinds of conversations with my employees, as you have been a very good manager for Sharle and a valued member of the team…”

Ropikk winced. Hearing Mansel’s tone felt like she was a wriggler getting disciplined by her lusus.

“But, this is the second time in two weeks that you’ve told me that Sharle has gone off on his own accord. He is a free spirit, I expect that from my boy-“ Mansel cracked a smile for a brief moment, then returned to seriousness. “But, as his manager, I do expect you to be able to put your foot down from time to time. We all know you’re very fond of him, of cours-“

“It’s- It’s not like that!” Ropikk suddenly interjected with a wave of her hand, then quickly covered her mouth in shock, face not tinged a shade of jade. “Ah, sorry. Please continue.” 

Mansel could not help but chuckle at the jadeblood’s display, which put her more at ease. That was the attitude she was used to seeing from him.

“Fear not, my girl, my lips are sealed,” He passed his finger and thumb across his mouth, then flicked his hand behind him, pretending to throw away the key. “But, in all seriousness, we do need to take this quite seriously. We all let Sharle down at Revoire, so I was willing to accept the fine for his disappearance from the media pen. That may cost us dearly in the future, should one of our drivers crash and we end up lacking in funds to replace parts while also continuing our development on the car, but that was a sacrifice I was willing to make.”

He nodded, and Ropikk bit her lip, looking down in shame. She knew Mansel would often make exceptions for his favourite drivers, which was why she wasn’t so concerned about stopping Sharle from leaving. Which only made this second breach of his trust much more egregious. 

“So now, I have to ask. Ropikk, what was the reason why Sharle left his training session early? Mont-Catalunya is only two weeks away, and with Tira’s recent underperformance we need Sharle to get much more serious than he is now. We’re finally in a position to fight for wins, so we need everyone at the top of their game.”

“Sharle is serious,” Ropikk replied quietly, expression almost pained. She didn’t want to say it.

The team principal looked back at her. Level and silent, but with a hint of concern. Like a parent who knows their child is trying to cover up a window they accidentally broke while playing soccer. The jadeblood knew she wasn’t in trouble, but she still felt so, so small.

Especially when she would be betraying Sharle’s feelings if she told the truth. And possibly earning further ire from Jamie as well, if he found out that she had to blab to the boss. She knew it was important to the two of them to keep their relationship a secret, and didn’t know if she could trust Mansel to keep his mouth shut as well. If news spread across the paddock, as gossip always tended to do, well… It was only a matter of time before it reached the public. 

She scrunched up her skirt in her hands, clenching her fists tightly. Then, a light exhale.

“He was… He got a call that his matesprit was in trouble, and it sounded really serious, so…” She kept her gaze down in her lap, mentally cursing herself again for letting her colleague down.

There was a period of silence between the two trolls.

Then, there was a slam of palms against the desk as Mansel stood up suddenly in shock. Ropikk nearly jumped out of her seat in fright.

“My boy has a matesprit? Why didn’t he tell me? Who are they? Was it that Velour fella our team keeps doing business with? He is quite the sweet little lad, that kid!” 

The tyrianblood’s eyes were shining in delight, and his body language radiated the same amount of pride he felt when one of his drivers was up on the podium. Ropikk was mortified.

“It’s, um- It’s a secret, he won’t even tell me, haha,” She says, laughing half-heartedly and waving her hands. Oh god, she is going to be in so much trouble. “But, can we also keep it a secret? Please? Sharle would really appreciate that, and- I’ll take up any penalties for letting him shirk his training like that. Do- Do you want me to work overtime?”

Mansel merely let out a big belly laugh in response.

“Nonsense, nonsense! Ropikk, my girl, you’re off the hook!” The team principal waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, to think our little boy is growing up! But, right, do send his matesprit my regards. Hopefully whatever was wrong with them gets solved swiftly and Sharle’s back on the track with us soon.”

“Huh-? Sorry, sir, so it’s fine? You’re okay with it?” Ropikk stared, mouth agape. She knew Mansel had a soft spot for the descendant of one of his good friends, but she didn’t know their relationship was this close. 

“Yes, yes, it’s fine. My god, Ropikk, you know I don’t like to discipline you lot unless I absolutely have to! And, fear not, my girl, the secret is safe with me.” He smiled, much more fondly this time, and repeated the zipped lips gesture once again. “But, I do hope you’re taking it well-”

“Yes! I am! Very well!” She blushed a bright jade in shock, then covered her mouth, horrified that once again she spoke out of turn. “Sorry. Yes, thank you, Mansel. Ah, is it okay if I go now?”

The tyrianblood chuckled and nodded, motioning for her to leave.

Ropikk did not waste a second.

-------------------------------------------------------------

A couple nights later, as Sharle was finishing up with filming a silly music challenge video for the team’s YouTube channel, he felt a familiar hearty slap on the back.

“Sharle, my boy!” Mansel grinned, moving his hand to the blueblood’s shoulder as Sharle turned to look at him. “Congratulations!”

Sharle blinked, bewildered.

“Er, for Villeneuve? But, er, I only got fourth. I couldn’t catch up to Komaii, guess he was just on a better pace with the newer tyres.”

“No, no! Not that your race wasn’t a fine effort, as expected from our number one driver! But, a little birdie told me you’ve nabbed yourself a fine little bird!” Mansel said with a hearty chuckle, giving the driver’s shoulder a light, approving shake.

The look on Sharle’s face was priceless. 

[raitrolling]

youve probs been seeing him for a while, but i wanted to draw a something nice to introduce my Funky Lil Motorsport Boy

Sharle Casini, professional driver for the Aeon Racing F1 Team. the descendant of the famous 4x world champion Eryton Casini (also known as The Torpedo), Sharle had some big shoes to fill following his debut four sweeps ago. it took him a sweep to find his footing in the sport, but nowadays he’s known as a formidable up-and-coming racer who could perhaps be a contender for the championships... If his bad temper and aggressive driving style didn’t ruin more of his races than help him reach the podium

he has the reputation of being rather standoffish and rude thanks to his radio conversations with his engineer and his strong dislike of interviews, but off-track he’s just Kind Of A Guy. he’s pretty bad at interacting with ‘normal’ trolls because he has no clue how to relate to them, and usually needs his teammate Tiraol or another close friend to help him out of his shell

inspiration | version without lighting

[raitrolling]

trolls + ancestors masterpost cuz lbr here im never gonna get that summary page done

i tag ancestors using both their name and their title so theres a chance their tags may have Content (except its mostly just 3+ year old art or random interestblogging, also some really old dancestor shit from 2013-14 but none of thats canon anymore because i dont care about dancestors lmao)

liiore - lilleo dariya, the voyaging stareyes kalpan - therem sewick, the virtuoso raesul - talari mercur, the reporter

skathi - orfila reckam, the analyser katrin - krasic rissah, the advocate nancor - lycori pharom, the haruspex kisert - kaspar azeban, the sorceror

dismas - shione teufel, the imitator leithe - romero arbied, the hireling aislin - elinai cudovi, the panopticon errett - snoope sachin, the archiver (yes thats his actual name)

eichio - adrile maccau, the songbird zotick - dalair aureio, the naturist benrii - ivlise benrii, the heavenly aegiel - rastia lachan, the crusader hellfire

soroll - rishio delfim, the jongleur charon - riocou acerbi, the gamesman twinedge

callan - “marvel” ranpoe, the vanished somerl - frobis alfero, the seafarer eastwind

amarys - valfey viridi, the champion ananta - esrafl cahaya, the messiah rosato - rutven sekaan, the ravenous ashell - kiyana bathre, the beloved redeti - fennic miraze, the flatfoot

davitt - tigant cesare, the informer vivyin - rubiri kafkah, the objected cvetka - solana eirene, the placater ariete - bellin qurioe, the curateur

celise - persei shoket, the abysseer velour - silque tselao, the martinet

fannar - kaleva bajorn, the marksman mikiel - siilas giacho, the whiteout (codename: nuclear winter) aiolos - thasar hummel, the emissary lusien - canade avalon, the luminous daimon - vaksam sverre, the watchdog sharle - eryton casini, the torpedo

shirei - asakki amynta, the overseer viltau - pavlov espino, the swindler glasya - bathym elliss, the countess antumbra

vallis - ondrue reyleh, the malefact

sigrun - ismael apteno, the piscator pratap - methys chaoua, the baristas belamy - lamour alchys,  the autocrat linnae - fleure ishimi, the tidality