#mostly Torque

[eli-little-workshop]

Margot's family (+ Torque)

[shrikeclangen]

My instinct is to apologize for not posting for *checks notes* nearly three weeks, but I did say I haven't drawn regularly in like three years,,, ty for ur patience

[4lbon]

finally buckling down and making that lolex highlight reel i talked about

[nevadancitizen]

-> ROT IN PUREST GOLD

synopsis: you've been skipping through universes ever since you touched the source of the hexgates. through everything, you've never stopped searching for your viktor -- now, you've found him, and you just want to go home.

word count: 2.7k

ships: viktor/reader

tags: angst with a happy ending, fluff and angst, pre-established relationship

notes: inspired by purest gold by miracle of sound. and this is my first shot at writing viktor.. lmk if i got anything wrong ^_^

related reading: Oh Viktor, My Viktor (What Could’ve Been)

It’s been years since you saw Viktor. Many years – artificial years. Years spent close, away, at a distance but still observing. But they were never your Viktor. 

Viktor with the accented voice and the long face. Viktor with the work ethic of a hive of worker honeybees, tireless and continuous. Viktor with the eyes of pure gold – never pyrite or brass with a yellow twinge. He’s always been made of the purest gold.

None of them ever could’ve replaced him. With all these alternate universes you were hopping between, you met plenty of Viktors. Some came close, but none replaced him. It wasn’t their faults; they couldn’t compete with a memory. 

You were a variable, too, so you couldn’t blame them completely. You went by different names, had different stories. Anything to make this depressing, grueling trudge through many lives more tolerable. 

Some things made things less annoying, like cars. (Well, sometimes. Sometimes they were a nuisance.) Cars are one of the things you think your Viktor would’ve liked to study. To take apart, to put back together, to modify and make better. You could see him becoming a real torque dork while listening to Speedfreaks FM. 

Mostly because that’s what he insists on listening to when you drive him to his doctor’s appointments – both of which you’re doing right now. Well, this universe’s version of him insists on Speedfreaks FM, and insists on you not calling him a ‘torque dork.’ Differentiating the Viktors from each other gets really complicated really fast, but giving them numbers feels dehumanizing. (If you did, this Viktor would be V-24. You’ve been keeping track.)

You turn on your blinker and wait for an opening to drive into the parking lot. Beneath the chatter of the radio hosts, you can hear Viktor tap his slender fingers against his forearm crutch in the passenger seat. Another difference you’ve noticed – both his outward fidgeting and his different mobility aids. 

When your turn comes, you turn your car into the parking lot. You slowly let the car drift, your foot hovering above the brake in case someone needs to cross. 

You turn down the radio a few clicks. “You think you’ll need your wheelchair?”

Viktor is silent. You take your eyes off the road for a split second and glance at him. He’s looking out the side window, at the plaza’s tall buildings and a sign that says Pueblito Plaza. 

“Viktor?” You say. “You hearing me?”

You pull into a parking spot and put the car in park. Worry eats through you – you don’t know what’s happening. Why is he acting like this?

He’s turned in his seat, looking through the back window at the buildings. There’s amazement on his face and for a second – a split second – he’s there. He’s your Viktor. 

But he’s not. He’s not. 

Those eyes are not gold. They are topaz and they are citrine. They are the yellow-orange that accompanies the sunrise. Beautiful, yes, but not yours.

“Where… are we?” He asks, his voice soft and wonderful.

“We’re going to your doctor appointment,” you say. “With… what’s her name? The pulmonologist. And then you have a CT chest scan.”

“No – the nation,” Viktor says. “What nation are we in? I have never seen technology like this.”

He runs a hand over the console of the car, then over the glovebox. He opens it, then looks inside. Nothing but napkins from fast food places and a laminated copy of your car insurance. 

“What’re you looking for?” You ask. You turn the key, and the car shuts off. 

“The power source,” Viktor says, looking at the key in your hand. “May I?”

“Viktor, you’re not cleared to drive,” you say, your voice growing sterner and firmer. “The doctors said your legs are… too weak or something – I don’t know.”

You clutch the key (and the carabiner it’s attached to) tighter in your hand. The charms hanging from it jingle and clink together. A small cog and a toy that looks like a spark plug make a metallic click as they collide.

“What is that?” Viktor reaches out, but just barely stops himself from touching the spark plug toy. You pause for a second, then give him the entire carabiner. 

Viktor holds the spark plug toy up to his face, inspecting it closely. He lets the rest of the charms on the carabiner dangle freely. You watch him – watch his eyes. A spark of gold. A fleck of cooler color in a pool of a warmer, yellowish orange. 

He sets the pad of his thumb on the hex of the toy (the hex here is a piece of metal on a spark plug fitted for a wrench – not the hex you were used to, so long ago). He wiggles it back and forth, then spins it. The hex spins with a barely-audible metallic rasp, like a fidget ring.

“It’s very intricate for a toy,” Viktor says. “Who made this?”

“Wh… you did. You gave that to me,” you say softly. “Why don’t you remember that?”

A quiet question nags the back of your mind – is Viktor getting worse?

You silently beg that you’re right. In a twisted, selfish way, you want him to get worse. You’ve taken care of Viktor before. Watched him die in multiple dimensions. In some of them, he even died in your arms, his golden eyes fading and his hand falling from your cheek.

You know what it’s like to watch him get worse. You’ve done it before, seen it before. You know what to do, how to grieve. You don’t know what you’d do if this is… Viktor. Viktor for real. Your Viktor.

“Are you trying to stifle my curiosity?” Viktor asks, a teasing smile on his face, his eyes still on the toy. 

“You gave it to me… I don’t know, six, seven years ago?” You say. You turn so that your shoulder is leaning against the car seat, facing him. “A spark plug. It’s important to the engine. I don’t remember how. And now… I’m failing your test.”

Viktor puts the carabiner down on the console. He laughs, and he’s looking at you like… you don’t know how he’s looking at you. But it’s something familiar. Something long-lost that you’ve been yearning for. 

“How could I test you on something I barely know anything about?” He asks. His smile falters a little.

“Don’t bullshit me,” you say, smiling. (His laughter always manages to make you smile.) “You know everything there is to know about cars, trucks, motorcycles…”

Viktor’s smile turns forced and confused. His eyebrows furrow a little. “I… have no idea what you’re talking about…”

And then he says it. He says your name. Your real name, your true name – the name V-1 called you. The name the real Viktor called you. 

It goes through you like a cold shock. A baptism in electrified ice water. You want to put your hand to his throat and ask, “What the fuck? What the hell did you just call me? Who’re you talking about?” 

You want to… but you can’t. You’re frozen until Viktor places a hand on yours.

You jerk it away, cradling both hands to your chest and scrunch back against the car door. “Don’t touch me.”

And he says your name again. Again, in that tone that invites sympathy, but mostly pity. He’s pitying you. You’ve gone through this too many times, with too many therapists.

“You – Viktor,” you say, his name coming out in a gasp. There’s a lump in your throat and you feel almost nauseous. 

“You’re not… you’re not the real one,” you grind out. “You’re not my Viktor, so stop acting like it. In th– in this universe, you’re just a friend, and that’s it.”

Viktor is silent, his mouth agape. “My love –”

“Don’t! Please,” you say. The words escape you before you can do anything. “Please, just don’t. Who – who told you?”

“Who told me what?” Viktor asks. His voice is still soft and sympathetic and sickly sweet.

“That you’re… you were…” You slump against the car door. Your elbow knocks against the steering wheel.

You look at him again. Your eyes dart between both of his, looking, observing. They’re not gold anymore. Well, they never really were, but now they’re… they’re opaline – pearlescent. A whole kaleidoscope in a drop. This is something different, but, still… it’s almost like you can sense him. This is the true Viktor – your Viktor. 

“I was there, Runeterra, the core of the hexgates, and then… I wasn’t. I’ve lived twenty-three lives before this. My first memory of… here… is of my fifteenth birthday party. I had to grow up all over again. Make new friends, go to a child’s school. I didn’t have anyone. And you –” Your voice catches in your throat, on both anger and sorrow. “You left me here! You left me to do this all alone!”

“I would never.” Viktor’s cold hands meet yours. He cradles them both. “I would never leave you, my love. I’m so, so sorry.”

“But you did!” You grip his hands as tight as you can, trying to savor the feeling. Tears well at the corners of your eyes. “You left me with this… this rot. These gilded Viktors that look like you, act like you. And it hurt. Everything hurts.”

“I know,” Viktor says softly. “You’re hurting me, too.”

You blink, then realise what you’re doing and loosen your grip on his hands. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He breathes out a soft laugh, then brushes his thumbs over your knuckles. “It must’ve been lonely, all by yourself.”

“You have no idea,” you say, your voice breaking a little. You blink hard, and a tear runs down your face. “We went to an arcade, and I spent all my quarters on you. We went to a museum, and I bought you a small paperweight of a statue that was on display there. We went to this weird, exotic place – Great Britain, I think it was called – and we shared tea and scones. And, no matter what I did, it… it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t right. It… he wasn’t you.”

“I’m here now.” Viktor gives your hands a gentle squeeze – much softer than what you gave him. “How long has it been?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you say tearfully. “Time moves differently here. Maybe… sixty years? I’m not sure.”

“Sixty?” Viktor balks. “Oh, my love…”

His hands slowly, carefully, move away from yours. Cold fingers meet your jaw, and your eyes flutter shut on instinct, head tilting down into the touch. Viktor cradles your face, both his thumbs brushing back-and-forth over your cheeks. 

 “I dreamt of you,” you say softly. “Every night. And I thought of you every day. Just… thinking of you, every moment I could spare.”

“Surely that’s an exaggeration,” Viktor says. 

You shake your head and lean further into his touch. “I’ve waited so long… so long. And now you’re here, and I – I don’t know what to do.”

He moves his hands, the tips of his fingers splayed across the sides of your neck and his thumbs gently pressing into your temples. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “This is nice, though. Just… you being here is nice.”

You lean forward, placing your hands over his to ensure they stay in place. “It felt like eternity, waiting for you. Just waiting, and longing. None of them could replace you.”

You open your eyes, just the slightest bit, and take Viktor in. Good god, he’s Viktor. He’s your Viktor. No longer the purest gold, but something new. Something better. Something life-bringing and something with infinite mercy.

“That is flattering, coming from you,” Viktor says. “You could have anyone you want – anyone across twenty-four universes. And you chose me, in every single one? That is the highest praise I could receive.”

You breathe out a laugh as your eyes shut again. “Shut up.”

“Eh… if you continue to act like this, I don’t think I will,” he teases. In a softer, warmer tone, he adds, “Your face is getting warm, too. I can feel it.”

You groan and hide your face in Viktor’s hands further. Even though you act like you hate it, you’ve missed this – you’ve missed this immensely. His teasing, his compliments that make you feel like you hung the sun, the moon, and all the stars by yourself. 

“Maybe you’re just getting warmer in general,” you say softly. “Maybe you’re getting better.”

“I have gotten better,” Viktor says, his voice light. “In our universe… I… I have touched the Arcane. I have been healed, and I am a healer. A herald into a new, better world – not only for the Undercity, but for the whole of Piltover.”

You shift his hands so that they’re resting on your cheeks and open your eyes, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “That sounds nice. I’m… sorry you had to do all that without me.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Viktor asks. “It’s not your fault.”

“I don’t know. I just…” You sigh. “I blamed it all on you, and I was angry. Real angry. But it wasn’t your fault – it wasn’t anyone’s. I was angry and I took it all out on the memory of you.”

“Do you really think I care?” His voice is soft as he swipes a thumb over your cheek. 

“No,” you admit after a moment. “But, still…”

“You are occupying your mind with the past and what-ifs,” Viktor says. He draws a hand over your scalp, his fingernails lightly digging into the skin there. “Focus on the here, the now.”

You shudder and melt into his hands. Your eyes, though still closed, sting with a fresh wave of tears. 

“I missed you,” you choke out. 

“You’ve said that already,” Viktor says. 

“I can’t say it enough,” you say, your voice sticky and wet. “I was your champion in the arena. I was your personal knight. I was the chieftain of your armies. I was your tool, your instrument. And you were my everything.”

“You are my everything,” he says. His tone is so sincere and heartfelt that it makes your throat seize up. “Why would you ever doubt that?”

“I didn’t,” you say. “It–it’s just that, all these memories… I was so many people, and so were you. And some things blur together, and it gets hard to differentiate everything, and…”

You groan and lean into Viktor’s touch. You glance up into his eyes, still opaline. “Everything got so complicated so fast. I just wanted you – the real you.”

“It’s okay, my love.” His hands move to hold your jaw, to draw you closer. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“But I feel like I have to,” you say. “I just… I just want you back. I wanna go back to the Viktor I know. I wanna go home.”

“We can go home,” Viktor says. “I can take you home.”

“Then take me home,” you say, almost too quickly. “Viktor, please.”

“You don’t have to beg,” he says. There is no teasing or hidden malice in his voice. He just wants you home, too. 

Viktor’s hands slide to the back of your head, his palms almost cradling your skull. He presses his fingers down and tilts your head forward, towards his. Your eyes flutter shut as your forehead touches his. 

It’s white. It’s the bright, cleansing light of some sort of heaven. Heaven? Haven? You’re not too sure. You’re not sure you can bring yourself to care, either. Not when you’re here – not when your Viktor is in reach. Not when you can touch him, hold him, talk to the one you love. The one you’ve been pining for, fighting for, losing and winning for. From somewhere between sixty years and eternity, you’ve been wanting him. And now he’s here. Your Viktor is here. 

It’s unbelievable. Your Viktor is here. 

The memories of your past lives, the former realities you’ve lived, meld and blur into distinct feelings. Visual memories blend into base emotions. A warrior’s pride. A traveler’s wanderlust. A teenager’s excitement. A knight’s confidence and courage. A chieftain’s insecurity cloaked as hostility. 

They melt away into contentment. A gentle wave lapping at a quiet shore. Acceptance. 

You are healed. 

You are home. 

[sirxlla]

On Your Period (Batboys)

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

Dick: You and Dick were out and about at the mall while you both did a bit of splurging, got lunch, made some Build A Bears for eachother...Dick saw blood on your pants as you bent over to check out the little trinkets in this next shop. He said nothing, just took his sweater off and wrapped it around your waist. Naturally, you turnd around gave him a questioning look so his whispered in your ear.

"Honey, you might wanna check your pants." His hands gently massaged your hips, he knew when cycle was every month so he had extra pants, panties and pads/tampons in his Jeep.

"Oh, my god." The embarressment shone in your voice but his hands on you hips helped soothe the sinking feeling.

"It's okay, let me pay for this and you head to the restroom. We can shop still if you'd like after." He spoke so sweetly and so kindly, Dick pulled out his wallet and picked up the item you'd been debating on wanting for the last half hour.

"Go...I got this, Sweet Girl." His blue eyes peered into the depth of yours with soft reassurance before you went to go check your pants.

Jason: You huffed and grumbled as he fixed his bike, handing him a torque wrench. You grumbled again and his green eyes shot up after hearing the noise over and over.

"Angel, what's got you huffing and puffing like a damn steam train?" He asks cause he's tired of hearing you groaning.

"I'm hungry, Jay!" You whined as you watched him tighten.

"I love you but quit bitching and get some food." You were hangry, he could tell. Jason grabbed his phone and handed it to you.

"Order something...and get me something too." He got up and washed his hands as you ordered food.

"All you had to do was ask to use my card, Babygirl." He came back over to you and hoisted you over his shoulder to carry you to his room. Jason placed you on the bed and plugged in your heating pad.

"I can do it myself, Jay." You felt bad for him doing all this and paying for your food.

"Shut up and relax." He demanded as his hands found your lower abdomen as he massaged the sore area, between his hands and the warm pad he had you feeling a lot better.

Once the food got there, the both of you scarfed it down, with food in your belly you were much less grouchy and much more tired. Jason laid with you and the both of you took a nap, he could use it from this tireless patrols and you for obvious reasons.

Strong and firm hands kept rubbing at your sore and angry abdomen as the both of you slipped off to a relaxing nap.

Bruce: Bruce wasnt good with periods and such. He often found himself in his own little world normally, saving Gotham and playing Billionare wasnt easy but he saw how much you shifted in your seat during the Wayne Enterprises board meeting.

Being his assistant was usually nice but right now it was hell listening to men talk about stocks and figuratively compare wallets to try to gain favor of the man you love.

He wasnt interested mostly in their shit and before you knew it, Bruce quietly excused you and quietly told you to get whatever you needed from the little period bag he had in his office, take ibuprofen and maybe a nap. You were about to disagree when he cut you off...

"Now, Mr. L/N." He demanded, Bruce was always formal with you when others were around due to being only his "employee." Bruce had to stay in the meeting as a formality, you knew that.

You were gonna disagree to his order but he wasnt gonna budge, plus your back was aching, your cramps could put Doomsday out of commision so you went to his office. Finding yourself heating up the warming bad then took pain meds and took a nap.

Bruce returned an hour later and covered you up with a blanket, his hands slipped to your heels and slowly took them off, his fingers moved to your waist and unzipped your skirt slightly at the top to relieve some pressure before he got back to answering emails and such.

Tim: You had got up and didnt even notice the blood you'd left on his sheets due to the feeling of blood in your shorts, Your eyes shot open as you bolted to the bathroom with embarressment to wash out the shorts and to hope blood didn't drip down your thighs.

Tim's eyes slowly opened and he noticed the blood. It was normal, he knew that so he started cleaning it up immediately after you got out of bed. Blood was blood and he wasnt squeamish in the slight. He'd had your spit and throw up on him, blood was nothing.

Tim popped on a pot of coffee for himself, got you new panties, sleep pants and a shirt cause changing fully sometimes just felt better and fresher, Pajamas of course. Tim knew every womans wants to be comfy during her period.

Tim knocked on the bathroom door and asked to come in, you said yes. He barely cracked it open to hand you clothes which made your eyes well up a bit because he did it without even needing to be asked, you hadn't even gotten the chance to think about needing these. He did it on his own... He closed the door and returned to the room where he stripped the bed and cleaned the previous, they were spotless by the time he was done.

He then got the stache of candy he had for you out of the cabinets, then the little plushie that went in the microwave for your cramps. Tim was always secretly prepared and swift in the way he tool care of you and did it like a cake walk in the park.

Damian: "Dami, Can you pick me up pads/tampons?" You had ran out and the period underwear you did have were overly uncomfy, you had meant to new pairs last month but forgot.

"Okay." He texted as he normally did when you responded but it was almost a automated reponse he had.

"Okay? You don't even know what size and brand etc." You asked via text.

"Okay." He texted back, he was clearly busy but you really needed pads or something so you called him.

"Hello?" He was out of breath and clearly punching and kicking someone.

"I need pads or something, please get some on the way home." You pleaded with him.

"Okay, Y/N." He responded as his mind was currently on something else...Of course he didnt buy any before coming home. You went out to him to get him cause these underwear were pinching you.

"What?" He noticed the look in your eye like you were looking for something and he didnt know what so he spoke in a confused tone.

"Pads, tampons, anything?" You were clearly so desperate and uncomfortable.

"Oh, I- Beloved, I got wrapped up in things. I can go out and get you some." He remembered you saying something but it went in and out his ears. Damian actually sounded sorry but you werent in the mood for Damian's apologies.

You padded down to Tim's room to ask for some, for Tim being more into dudes most of the time he sure was prepared for if he ever had a girl over. Damian broufht you home chocolate and flowers the next day and from then on always made sure the bathroom stayed stocked after that also he made sure to recheck his texts on his way home for if you needed something.

-> Masterlist <- -> Prompt List <-

[yuwuta]

JJK OLYMPICS OHHH YOURE A GENIUS

head spinning w sooooooo many athlete aus rn….. 

satoru honestly isn’t half as cocky as the media makes him out to be but he could be because you bring up world champion men’s freestyle swim times and it’s his name on the scoreboard ten times before someone else shows up. he’s faster than himself by fifteen seconds all around, he’s earned a bit of cockiness. mentioned in the last post that whenever he’s at a competition and he finishes a race, he looks at the camera and signs a little infinity sign and then blows a kiss to you. some bitter old coach always calls him out on it, and gets him fined for unsportsmanlike conduct, and he’s happy to pay the fees if it means getting a message home to you, but eventually you two come up with a new code; and at his next race, he places gold, turns to the camera, crosses his middle finger over his pointer finger and smiles. when he’s in his post-race interview, he makes sure to explain that he does it for you with the widest smile on his face.

megumi nepotism baby but not in the same sport. toji was a multi gold medalist back in his heyday for shooting, so it’s not really a surprise to anybody that megumi has scary good aim, but he takes to archery instead of shooting. actually the idea of megumi being an emo little kid and throwing rocks at a tree when his dad pissed him off his hilarious, and even funnier is toji watching him, slightly amused and a little scared because megumi is maybe six and hitting the exact same spot every single time. he grows to be very blase about it—it’s more of a release/hobby for him that he happens to be really good at, and well, now good enough to earn a few olympic medals. megumi is not a fan of having his dad ruffle his hair on international television after he’s won, but he supposes it can’t be helped.

i don’t know where to put yuuta…. tennis…. tempting….. him in his little white shorts…. little grunts after he serves…. cries….. a complete 180 in his personality when he’s playing vs doing anything else. so charming and sweet and kinda shy when he’s being interviewed, and the second he steps on the court his eyes are so cold it’s scary…. need him… extremely nerdy about his rackets, and shoes, and clothes, and rambles to you about aerodynamics and posture and torque whenever you ask him to teach you, and you always have to shutup him up with a kiss and remind him that yeah you sort of want to learn to play tennis for him, but mostly you came bc he looks hot doing it. once he got asked in an interview if he ever thinks about you while he’s playing and his response was very concise, “no, never. it would be a big distraction,” and did not realize the implications of his heavily televised words. 

also…. not to make this post 40% yuuta but we could pull from canon a bit and make his sport fencing. he doesn’t excel because he’s the strongest, it’s because he’s learned to treat the sword as an extension of himself and a good strategist… also because i like the image of him pulling the helmet/mask off and shaking his hair out………..

don’t even know where to put yuuji…. volleyball? basketball? track and field??? the irony of him easily being the most athletic but canonically does not want to play sports 😭 but i can see him playing a sport because someone scouts him and it turns out to be a way to make steady money to support himself and his grandpa :( by the time he’s qualified and made it to the olympics, wasuke is doing much better (thanks to yuuji having landed some preemptive sponsorships and being able to afford better medical care), but not so well enough that he can travel across the world to watch yuuji play. wasuke tells you that you should travel and be with yuuji, but yuuji is so touched by the idea that you would stay with his grandpa and be by his side when he’s away :(( he wins gold, of course, and he doesn’t even wait until the closing ceremony—which, he’d mentioned in all of his interviews, so nobody can be too upset. he’s on record saying, “i’m excited to play, but i’m even happier to be going home. my girlfriend and my grandpa are watching me and i miss them!” several times— he’s on the first flight home with flowers, and tears in his eyes. puts his gold medal on his grandpa’s neck as a thank you, and spends probably thirty minutes straight hugging you and kissing you and honestly don’t put it past him to propose now that he’s got nike ambassador money 

nanami started judo as a way to relieve the stress of his overbearing job, and someone at the gym/training center notices he seems to be a natural despite being a beginner. he starts to draw a crowd, which annoys him at first because the point of judo was discipline and release from having to deal with too many people at his office job, but nanami supposes he can’t be too mad when you introduce yourself as a talent scout and offer him professional training. there’s irony in him accepting your offer, because it was definitely not based in professionalism at all… quitting his job as a salaryman to become a professional athlete in his mid-twenties was not on his bingo chart, but if it means he will have met you, then so be it. you’re with him all the way, through his training, competitions, world championships, qualifiers, all the way until he’s on the podium. you’re the first to congratulate him, but he interjects by telling you he’s quitting. you ask him why—he just won at the olympics for crying out loud, but nanami just shakes his head, puts down his flowers and his medal so his hands are free to hold your face and tell you, “it would be unethical to kiss my manager, so i am quitting.” (later, when everything is said and done, and you two are cuddling, you mention to him that he could just hire a new manager, and not quit his new career, to which he blushes because yeah… that’s probably more rational, but rational was not in his train of thought at the time)

[twinkleteaparty]

Soft Launches and Soft Tyres

Part 1: The Princess of the Grid

A particular kind of silence falls in a garage before a race. It’s not quiet with radios crackling and the hum of tire warmers and mechanics shouting about torque and telemetry. But it’s a kind of silence in my head, like the calm just before I let the car swallow me whole.

I live for that silence. That, and the smell of burnt rubber. I’ve never fit into any neat little box anyway—not the way people expect, especially not when I got into F1 at 19. People expected me to be the new kid, quiet and compliant. And, well… okay, they were half right.

I was quiet. Still am, mostly. I don’t talk back, I let the track speak for me. That was something Seb used to say. “You don’t need to be loud to be heard, Moni.” He was my mentor before he became everyone’s eco-uncle and left us… left me. I still miss his hugs. And Daniel, god, Daniel was like my older brother, but funnier and worse at keeping secrets. He once said I had “golden retriever energy disguised in a kitten’s body.” Which is both cute and slightly concerning, but very him.

Anyway, it’s been five years now. I’m 24, and things have changed. There’s a new wave of younger drivers, some shinier, and I’m not the “baby” anymore. But I guess I still get called the “Princess of the Grid.” Mostly by Lando. Once, Carlos said it during a press conference, and Lando won’t let him live it down.

My mother raised me, just the two of us. She worked nights at a hospital and still managed to drive me to karting sessions on weekends. It wasn’t glamorous. We didn’t have the money that most kids in motorsport had. But I had her. She never yelled, never cried in front of me. Just kept going. Quiet strength. Maybe that’s where I get it from.

My dad left when I was six. I don’t remember much about him, and the stuff I remember feels more like watching someone else’s home video. He wasn’t cruel, just... unfinished. He didn’t know how to stay, and he missed a lot of things: my first race win, my Super Licence, and my debut in Formula One. Sometimes, people ask me if we’re in touch, and I say, “No, but I’m sure he knows where to find me.” I mean, it’s not like I’m hiding.

I signed my first F1 contract at nineteen with AlphaTauri, back when it was still AlphaTauri. It was a blur—media, pressure, more cameras in a week than I’d seen in my whole life. I kept my head down. Scored points when I could. Learned how to breathe in that car-shaped pressure cooker. I was never the loud headline, but I stayed consistent. That's what mattered. The paddock doesn’t always reward consistency, but it remembers it.

I still drive for VCARB even now, and I like it here. We’re not the underdog or the top dog. We’re the kind of team that sharpens you and makes you better.

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

Part 2: The Calm Before the Media Storm

Media day always smells like too much cologne and burnt coffee.

It’s a mix of waiting around in branded teamwear and pretending not to hear the questions asked in the next booth. My PR manager, Livia, clips a mic to my collar with practiced ease, gentleness usually reserved for bomb diffusers or hairstylists.

“You good?” she asks, smoothing the VCARB jacket over my shoulder.

“Define good,” I say, giving her a slight grin. She rolls her eyes.

“Smile. Be nice. Don’t swear.”

“Always nice. Almost never swear.”

“Almost being the keyword.”

She pats my arm and walks off, already on the phone.

The first few interviews are standard fare. Strategy questions, performance reviews, tyre talk — everything I’ve answered a hundred times, just repackaged in different accents and camera angles.

Interviewer: “Monica, do you think the team’s Q3 performance in Jeddah was a turning point?”

Me: “It was a data point. A good one. But one race doesn’t define a season.”

Interviewer: “You’ve been praised for your tyre management this season—”

Me: “I just don’t fight physics. That’s all.”

They laugh. One asks if I meditate. Another wants to know what I eat before a race.

“Toast,” I say. “Always toast.”

There’s a short break after the fourth interview. I peel off the mic and flop onto a couch in the VCARB media room. Isack’s already there, drinking a Red Bull while on his phone watching one of the videos the admin made us make on Instagram.

“You’re trending,” he says, not looking up.

I groan as I close my eyes to take the smallest nap a human is possible. “Again?”

He turns the screen toward me. A photo from last week, me again, blurry, exiting a hotel lobby at midnight. Someone had zoomed in on my hand touching someone else’s arm.

“Your mysterious shadow boyfriend strikes again,” he grins. “This time, people think it’s someone from the grid.”

“Great,” I mutter. “I love when my life makes headlines. You keep laughing, Isack, but one day, you won't even be able to pee in peace without getting on headlines."

He ignores me and keeps scrolling. “Also, apparently your ‘energy’ matched Pedro Pascal’s according to this fan edit.”

I blink. “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea. But I support it,” he says with a grin, and gets off the couch when his PR manager calls him for an interview.

I watch him walk away before my phone vibrates.

Groupchat: Who made this groupchat?

Carlos: MONICA.

Lando: Ma’am, why are YOU trending and not for overtaking someone???

Alex: Girl, you okay? Did you break the internet??

lewis: Princess, did I miss something, or did you go on a date with Pedro Pascal??

Charles: WHO IS THE MAN? Alex won't tell me anything.

Carlos: Becca won't either.

Max: I will find out. I know people.

Carlos: Moni. Seriously. Who is it?

Me: Stop spanning the group chat

Lando: We are not doing such thing, answer.

Oscar: We want to know?

Max: Does Daniel know? I bet he does.

Me:……

Charles: Young lady, come back here.

---

Sebastian (privately): 1 massage - unread

I stare at Seb’s message for a second too long. Then I press the side button and lock the phone without replying. The last interview of the day is with a lifestyle network—the ones who care more about what moisturizer I use than my racing line through Sector 3.

The questions start light.

“What’s always in your travel bag?” “How do you relax between races?” “If you weren’t an F1 driver, what would you be?”

I answer them all. (Sunscreen. Sleep. Veterinarian.)

And then

“So, Monica… the internet wants to know: Are you dating someone?”

There’s a beat of silence. Not awkward. Just quiet.

“I—uh.” I blink. “I don’t usually talk about my personal—”

“We know! That’s why everyone’s curious. There have been some pictures lately—late dinners, hotel lobbies. People are saying—”

I don’t hear the rest. My throat tightens. I nod slowly, a polite smile barely glued on. Livia appears out of nowhere, like a PR magician.

“I’m so sorry,” she cuts in. “We’re running late for a strategy debrief. Tight schedule today.”

The interviewer tried to hide their disappointment, but Livia was already guiding me out of the chair with a hand on my elbow and that fixed “this is fine” smile that PR people must practice in the mirror. Once we’re out of sight, she mutters, “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. In the hallway, I check my phone again. Seb’s message is still sitting there. Still unread.

-----------

Part 3: When the Internet Breaks

[Clip: ‘The Last of Us’ Season 2 – Press Junket | Interview With Pedro Pascal]

Pedro Pascal is seated comfortably and exudes his characteristic warmth and charm.

Interviewer: "Pedro, 'The Last of Us' season 2 episode 2….what an episode it was, it delves deep into love and loss themes. Has portraying Joel influenced your perspective on personal relationships?"

Pedro: "Absolutely. Joel's journey is one of profound connection and vulnerability. It's made me reflect on the importance of having someone who grounds you and brings light into your life amidst chaos, just like Ellie did for him in a daughter-father way."

Interviewer: "That sounds personal. Are you currently experiencing such a connection in your own life, maybe with a lover?"

Pedro: "Well, let's just say I've been fortunate to find someone who brings that kind of light and grounding into my world."

The interviewer raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

Interviewer: "Care to share more?"

Pedro Laughing, shaking his head, "I think I'll leave it at that for now. I don't want trouble."

Within hours, the internet was ablaze with speculation. Social media platforms were flooded with clips of the interview, and fans dissected every word and expression.

Twitter/X – Trending Topics:

PEDRO PASCAL GF???

"Someone who brings light" [1.3M posts]

Monica VCARB edit (soft launch??)

MONICA IS DATING PEDRO

PRINCESS OF THE GRID x INTERNET’S DADDY 😭

Comments under various posts range from excitement to disbelief:

“Imagine going home to the Princess of the Grid and she makes you toast while talking about tyre deg 😭” “She was quiet but had the rizz of a thousand suns.” “Oh my god. THE fanfic is real.”

Private Chat – Daniel Ricciardo & Monica Daniel: So. The internet’s on fire. Pedro and you?

Monica: He didn’t mean to I think He was just talking. That’s how he is. He gets soft and starts talking, and the words fall out

Daniel: That’s adorable. I’m vomiting a little, but it’s adorable. So it’s real? Like, real real?

Monica: Yeah. It’s been a few months now. Met him at an awards thing. He was nice. Didn’t treat me like a headline. Didn’t ask about fame at dinner. Just asked about my favorite books. Stuff no one’s asked in years.

Daniel: You deserve that. You so deserve that. But you’re freaking out, huh.

Monica : I feel like I’m standing on a trapdoor. Like the minute I smile too wide or hold his hand in daylight it’ll open and everyone will pile on. I worked so hard to be taken seriously. Being the first woman in F1 was hell at first. You remember. People said awful stuff. Called me Seb’s “pet project,” remember that? Or the “baby with daddy issues.”

Daniel: Yeah. I remember. I also remember you outqualifying half the grid with a migraine and two hours of sleep. You’ve got scars. Doesn’t mean you hide forever.

Monica: He’s older. People will tear it apart. Say I’m looking for a dad. Say I’m broken. And with mine leaving, I never really figured out how to not let that stuff crawl under my skin. I know it’s stupid. But I’m scared. Of the headlines. Of the comments. Of being too happy and getting punished for it.

Daniel: That’s not stupid. That’s human. But you don’t have to carry it alone. Talk to Seb, Mon. He’s worried. We both are. You’ve got us. You always have us.

Monica: I haven’t opened his text.

Daniel: Mon, you know you have to talk to him at some point

I sat curled up in the corner of the hotel bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over my hands. The room was too cold, not physically, but in that way hotel rooms are when you don’t feel like you belong in them. My phone sat in my lap like it weighed five kilos. Seb’s name had been at the top of my messages for three days. Unread. Unopened. But never ignored. I stared at the notification, thumb hovering over it like the screen might bite back. Then, finally, I tapped.

Sebastian Vettel [3 days ago]: Hey, little one. I saw the headlines. I just wanted to say, I hope it’s true. Not the rumors. The happiness. You’ve always deserved to be loved out loud, not in secret. And you don’t owe anyone an explanation for that. If people try to turn your joy into ammunition, that’s on them, not you. Call me if you want. I’m here. Always. 💛

It hit me in layers. I could hear his voice in my head as I read. His calm, that steady warmth he always had, even when the whole world was watching him. I didn’t cry. Not really. But something loosened in my chest — something I didn’t realize I’d been holding onto so tightly. Like someone had cracked open a window in my ribs and let the stale air out. I stared at the message momentarily before hitting his number and hearing the ringing sound.

----------

Part 4: Eyes on the Paddock

Practice day always feels like the calm before the circus. Except this morning, the circus was already rolling in. By 9 a.m., the paddock was alive, TV crews in place, PR managers buzzing like caffeinated bees, fans pressed against the barriers, phones ready. Security tried to keep a clear path, but the chaos was controlled at best. Sky Sports F1’s Rachel Brookes adjusted her earpiece and stood near the entrance gate, mic in hand, eyes trained on the team hospitality areas. She nodded to the cameraman. “Alright, we're rolling in three, two, one…”

“Good morning from the paddock,” she began, the signature warmth in her voice. “It’s Friday, it’s practice day, and we’re already seeing a few drivers arriving.”

From behind her, someone in the crowd screamed as Charles Leclerc strolled past in Ferrari red, smiling at Leo with Alexandra by his side. Moments later, George Russell appeared with Carmen beside him, both dressed like they had walked out of a campaign shoot.

Rachel turned slightly to the camera. “A few of the grid’s familiar faces are arriving with their partners today, a little off-track love before the focus shifts to race pace.”

Then the air shifted. It wasn’t loud at first. Just… aware. Phones lifted. People stood on their toes. There was a wave of murmurs, the kind that travels fast, faster than even a car down the straight. And then there she was. Monica, the grid princess, walked through the gates like she’d done a thousand times. Cool. Grounded. Calm with her usual sweet smile. Except this time, she wasn’t alone. Pedro Pascal walked beside her, their hands linked, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Rachel blinked, then leaned toward the camera with a slightly incredulous smile. “And… Monica Cruz is walking in this morning with none other than Pedro Pascal. That… is quite the entrance.”

Click. Flash. Shutter sounds like popcorn. Monica didn’t stop walking. She didn’t pose or break stride. But she looked up briefly, smiled toward the crowd, and gave a small wave with her free hand. Pedro leaned close to her ear, clearly saying something only she could hear. She laughed, genuinely, softly, like no cameras were watching. Rachel, still recovering, added, “Well, that’ll be the shot of the weekend before the engines even start.”

-----

Author note: I had this idea and just had to get it down, even if it’s rough or awkward. I know it’s not perfect, and I apologize if the writing feels unpolished, but I hope the story's heart came through and that you enjoyed the concept. I’d love to keep writing and improving, especially regarding details and dialogue. Next time, I want to include more of Monica interacting with the grid and the other drivers. I hope this first part of the story feels like a good start.

[catenary-chad]

Why Greaseball is a Really Great train villain: a looong post (4.8k words) on all the historical train context behind replica Greaseball 

For all my issues with the other main engines, I think (replica) Greaseball is FANTASTIC. He just works on so many fundamental levels and gets so much better/worse with historical context.  If we make him an EMD E9 locomotive (a common headcanon) things get even more interesting, and there’s even a convenient irl engine to base him on! 

Note: if you’re into real US trains this info probably won’t be as new to you as my Nez Cassé post, since E and F units are so well preserved and documented in English.      A lot of the topics I go on are pretty widely discussed in US railfan circles and not terribly obscure.  Also this is just about replica, Elvis-style Greaseball vs Wembleyball… her being more modern and European changes a lot and I would take a very different approach.

Also CW for non-graphic discussion of abuse in the very last section. I have a separate warning before it comes up so you can leave before then.  

DIESEL TRACTION IN THE US

First of all, to clear up a common misconception: 99% of all diesel locomotives are diesel-electric.  The diesel engine is used to generate electricity to power electric motors to turn the wheels.  This is why dual-mode engines that can switch between drawing third rail/overhead wire electricity and making their own with a diesel engine are so common.  Besides the power source, they work similarly, so it’s not hard to incorporate.  This is NOT how hybrid cars work, though diesel-electric setups have been used on very heavy trucks for purposes like mining.  Diesel-mechanical is more in line with how automobiles work but is basically unheard of outside of very small switchers in the US (mostly in museums now) and 50s-era shunters and that one weird Fell diesel in the UK. The technical reasons of why isn’t really important here, but has to do with the difficult of making an appropriate gearbox for road locomotives and appealing qualities of electric motors for train use (high starting torque). 

Internal combustion-based locomotives are actually much more recent than pure electric ones.  Electric engines achieved practical use around the 1890s and were well-established in urban and mountainous areas by the 20s-30s…. which is when diesel boxcab switchers first started production in substantial numbers and lightweight diesel trainsets like the Zephyrs, M10000, and Flying Hamburger started to pop up.  The earliest diesels were either slow (switchers) or fast but very weak (lightweight trainsets and railbusses). There were major tech limits to maximum horsepower in diesel locomotives until the second half of the 20th century, which is why several of them were often needed to replace one steam or electric engine, and why you had some weird turbine designs in the 50s-70s as an alternative. 

Early diesel locomotives in the US actually had a lot in common with their early implementation in the UK.  They’re often perceived differently because Thomas the Tank Engine had so many characters based on unsuccessful early British diesel models, while most of the failed earlier US diesels are obscure compared to the successful and widespread ones (that often have the strongest museum presence). There were some notably good early switcher models (some still being used today) that were among the first to replace steam engines because it was one of the tasks that they had the biggest advantage over them in, and limited size wasn’t an issue.  Road diesel implementation was messy and due to the early state of the technology, some railroads like the Pennsylvania Railroad had a strategy more akin to early British Rail in that they planned to just slowly phase out steam as they electrified.  Higher wages and stronger unions were also a factor in both countries dieselizing, due to the vastly lower labor needed for diesel locomotives vs steam and generally safer, more pleasant working conditions on them.  There was also a need to shed a reputation for being outdated to draw in customers again with both.  There was also a desperate early demand for diesel power that led to a lot of questionable builders and designs being picked up early on and later dumped for being nonstandard.  

The main difference is that dieselization’s serious pursuit in the US started around the Great Depression and really picked up in the late 30s, almost two decades before the Modernization Plan of 1955.  So it was a far more mature and well-established technology by the 50s and Greaseball is very much based on this dominant position vs the messy early experiments of the Thomas diesels.  

Greaseball’s helmet heavily resembles the fronts of the E and F unit carbody locomotives made by EMD from the 30s-50s.  I’ll go into those specific models later, but the manufacturer alone is really interesting and has a lot of great symbolism that works with Greaseball. 

Earlier diesel manufacturers included steam builders like Alco and Baldwin, outside companies getting into the diesel locomotive market like Fairbanks-Morse, and EMD, which started as an independent company but quickly became part of General Motors.  One of the major advantages EMD would acquire is mass-production in assembly lines, the way cars were made, as opposed to building one engine at a time like steam shops did.  So Greaseball has some quiet ties to the auto industry (and boy did GM hurt trains in other avenues).  They also used common parts between models, making them relatively easy to repair and rebuild.  You had all kind of mods and changes done to their engines over the decades, which is a fun tie-in to the bodybuilder AND greaser aspect of Greaseball.  I’ll go into how I think he’d specifically be modified/rebuilt later though.  

Another major factor of EMD is… they often weren’t the best in a lot of ways and very much an example of “survival of the good enough”.  Until very recently they all used relatively dirty and inefficient two-stroke engines and other manufacturers often had stronger or technically superior competing models… but it was the ease of working on them and relative reliability vs their competitors that contributed to their success and helped make EMD the dominant manufacturer.  

Bonus fun fact: EMD (and later General Electric) had a lot of success in the export model market due to their early reliability, especially vs British diesel engines.  One of the funnier instances being several colonial African railways holding onto steam into the 70s because they were forced to buy crappy British diesel engines otherwise, and promptly dieselizing as soon as they could buy American ones.  EMD made huge inroads into the British freight market with the Class 59 and 66 (the latter also used in continental Europe).  These came too late to have had any affect on the development of the show early on, but it’s an interesting instance of American encroachment that could be thematically relevant.  The sheer ubiquity of EMD diesels worldwide makes Greaseball weirdly relevant in a lot of countries if you basis swap him a little.  I haven’t figured out quite how I’d approach Girlball but I’d definitely make her one of these export models since it fits.  

Anyways, back to the general history timeline because it’s important for the other reason EMD was so successful.  By the late 30s, diesel switchers were widespread and road models were starting to come out in limited numbers.  Widespread dieselization would have happened nearly a decade earlier if not for World War II.  When the US entered the war, copper, oil, and diesel engines became critical to the war effort.  Coal was not and steam engines don’t use much copper, so the existing steam manufacturers were forced into building them.  EMD’s FT series had proven itself prewar and the company was among the few to be able to develop their locomotive lines during the war.  This gave the company a huge advantage post-war and their E and F units dominated the road locomotive market afterwards (switchers remained more competitive since they had more development before and during the war). 

 If you’re European and know little about American trains, you may wonder when things started getting electrified after that.  They didn’t.  Outside of one stretch of the Northeast Corridor, a recent project by Caltrain, and some isolated freight lines… the US didn’t electrify anything after WWII, and if anything de-electrified much that had existed.  The oil crises of the 70s almost led to something, but the subsequent drop in prices in the 80s made that dry up too.  Leading to the modern day status of having only 1% electrified rail mileage.  The rest is all diesel domain.  They were never a stopgap here.  Due to railroads remaining private businesses post-WWII and facing almost unwinnable economic and political conditions vs roads and air travel, the cost of electrification was out of the question and the much smaller up front cost of diesel engines made them take permanent hold over most of the country post-steam.  To this day, railroads avoid paying up front for things vs just paying more in yearly maintenance for diesel locomotives, and the price of fuel has never gotten high enough to incentivize electrification.  There’s also a whole carrot vs stick situation with state governments raising emissions standards without providing assistance to electrify that leads to a crappy state of limbo that just gives automobiles even more of an unfair advantage, but that’s another tangent that’s not relevant enough to go into.  

This is all a long way to say that Greaseball as the conservative, oppressive establishment is spot-on to the status of diesel traction in the US.  It really can’t be overstated how dominant and inescapable it is.  It’s kind of hilarious hearing people from the UK or Europe talk about how gross and stinky and backwards they are and how much more disliked they are there.  This is why the Greaseball vs Electra feud is so appealing to me- the US is one of the few places where they would be considered remotely competitive and where that matchup is politically relevant.  There’s this compelling thread of Greaseball being a “pragmatic compromise” that’s held on so long it’s become status quo, but would be viewed as a regressive relic elsewhere in the world, akin to how the US’s economic politics are seen in much of the rest of the world.  Greaseball is the majority who very much has capitalism and inertia on his side, Electra is the more qualified but long-sidelined minority who wishes things were even a little more like Europe economically and politically.  They’re so rural vs urban, right vs left wing coded it hurts. Diesel power mainly thrives where frequencies are low and distances are long and rail is a private business that often can’t afford to electrify.  Urban trains are almost exclusively electric due to their inherent frequency and pollution requirements, and are almost synonymous with being state-owned. 

Him being particularly nasty to steam engines also checks out, he’s the era of diesel locomotive that often directly replaced them and I’ve seen claims EMD did deceptive things if not outright cheated on tests vs steam engines.  At the very least they had fairly aggressive marketing.  There’s a reason why I object to the idea that Electra would cheat against a steam engine (even in the early days electric ones trounced them so thoroughly it routinely exceeded railroads’ expectations), but think Greaseball doing it makes sense.  Him playing dirty against Electra also makes sense because they’d have similar top speeds (and that’s being very conservative with Electra’s abilities and keeping them a relatively old model) but Electra benefits far more from a clean setting and would be relatively vulnerable to attack. There’s been decades of cultural downplaying of the advantages of electric vs diesel trains due to the latter’s sheer dominance in the US too. Further tying into the political aspect, electric trains are one of those things whose status only goes up the more you actually learn about them… and it really knocks combustion engines down several pegs, paralleling how right wing politicians in the US tend to be actively anti-education because they quietly rely on voters being low-information and uneducated about how negative the effects of their policies often are.  

Greaseball as a macho jock is also reflective of the perceived strength of diesel vs electric engines.  Because the US is infamous for its large heavy freight trains that are almost entirely diesel-hauled (besides a single power plant out west), electric freight is an almost alien concept and people associate electric traction with high speed trains, subways, maybe lighter, faster European freight trains at most.  People often act like they’re weak because of this.  This is patently untrue, just look at IORE or the Virginian Railway.  Also see my earlier discussion of how weak diesel engines were early on.  Electric locomotives still have vastly higher horsepower per single unit and the only reason there aren’t ones as strong as diesel engines in the US is lack of demand.  It wouldn’t be that hard to build one for that niche.  But diesel has strong associations with being the “strong and manly” blue-collar option because of its use by every large freight railroad and almost every shortline for all the tough, gritty jobs, unlike those darn city slicker commuter trains. Let’s just conveniently forget that the Milwaukee Road existed and that mines are full of weird little battery-powered “lokies”.  People will even crow about the Big Boy all day and rarely acknowledge the multiple electric engine models of that era with comparable abilities.  

EMD E and F UNITS

Finally, we can discuss Greaseball’s more specific basis.  Greaseball’s helmet doesn’t have a single explicit one like Electra’s, but its styling is very typical of 30s-50s era carbody diesel locomotives, specifically the “bulldog nose” E and F-Units.  These models were and still remain some of the most popular toy and model diesel engines, and are some of the most recognizable American trains in general.  Which they totally deserve, they came in a lot of fun colors and were VERY widely used from the 30s to early 80s irl and were still used in limited numbers for decades after that and are extremely common in museums today.  It’s probably harder to find a railroad museum in the US that doesn’t have one.  They are probably THE symbol of diesel trains in the US, especially circa the 50s.  Even highway signs for train stations resemble them.  

Carbody locomotives like these made the streamlined body a structural element of the engine to save weight and required indoor walkways for maintenance access vs being able to open external panels.  Alco and Baldwin also made far less successful carbody locomotives as competitors but they looked very different. Funny enough, a number of electric locomotives of the era also were built this way, but with cabs at both ends, some of them looking a LOT like Greaseball’s helmet.  

The E-units were EMD’s first line of road diesel locomotives, mainly designed for passenger service.  Since the 30s there were several different models of the line, the first few being built in smaller numbers, and the later ones being much more widely produced post-WWII.   They were relatively long and large for a diesel engine of the time, with atypical A1A -A1A (powered/unpowered/powered x2) wheel arrangements and two seperate prime movers (the actual diesel engine) to produce more horsepower due to the limited abilities of individual engines.  While successful compared to their competitors (which were… generally a mess) there’s a sense that they were designed for a time that would never come.  

They were very much optimized for being smooth at speed for passenger use and while not useless for freight service, weren’t ideal for it due to their limited strength and not having all powered wheels for traction.  Which was a terrible market to be in with the massive decline in passenger rail post-WWII.  The E-units still generally had long and successful lives, but were never as successful as their younger, smaller sibling, the F-unit.

F-units visually resemble shorter E-units, but with single prime movers and Bo-Bo wheel arrangements (four powered axles).  By modern standards they’re small and not terribly powerful, but for their time they were solid and VERY successful in freight service, and often took the place of E-units in passenger service since they worked for that too, and were more versatile overall.  There are a bunch of F-units running in museums because they look good and are easy to find parts for due to the sheer quantity produced (also some, but far fewer E-units). You could totally make Greaseball an F-unit and it would fit with how there’s been some infamously short Greaseball actors.  

There’s a lot of fun commonalities between both models that are relevant to Greaseball.  Both were explicitly designed to be used in multi-engine sets due to their limited individual strength, which perfectly fits Greaseball having his Gang follow him around.  Working in packs that large is a VERY midcentury diesel thing.  Both had the massive drawback of having no rear visibility and basically no ability to go backwards for switching.  That was one of the main traits that led to this style of engine falling out of favor, roadswitchers that actually had rear visibility were more versatile than having separate road and switch engines.  In a race going backwards, Rusty would clean his clock even if he was SUPER crappy and could only go walking pace, because Greaseball would be flying totally blind and crash.  It’s also a hassle to perform maintenance and get inside that body style and the noses were reportedly harder to manufacture.  

As a cursed side note, ATSF solved these problems with their old F-units by roadswitcherfying them into CF-7s.  Hey, they were old and past their prime but still useful and worked GREAT as ugly utilitarian roadswitchers and ran for decades afterwards.  There’s several of these things running in museums.  I’ve actually worked on one and I approve of roadswitcherfication because they really are way less of a pain to maintain this way.  

Speaking of rebuilds, the highest horsepower Greaseball would have as an E-unit would as-built is only 2,400 if he was an E9, but because early EMDs got modified so much and routinely re-engined, we can play around with this.  It fits the character and the Railways Series routinely did this kind of thing.  We’ll suppose Greaseball was re-engined or otherwise modified to get up to 2,700 horsepower… but then there’s the reported issue that the unpowered axles might make him too slippery to actually apply full force, so we’ll get a bit more out there and say he got more substantially rebuilt into a Co-Co (six powered axle) arrangement.  Now you have something that would be vaguely comparable with one of Amtrak’s dysfunctional SDP40F diesels of the late 70s-early 80s, if still a bit weaker but probably more physically stable.  It’s hard to avoid that Greaseball is kind of statistically wimpy no matter how you slice it.  They’d need to tweak the numbers in the song a little, but again, swapping out engines in early EMDs was super common and suits him so it’s not too much of a stretch to bump him to 3700 or something.  You still have issue that he’s not large by UP standards specifically (they are INFAMOUS for large single-unit engines) but he’d still be fairly large vs more typical passenger diesels of the time.  

Anyways, another VERY fun fact about E and F units is that they were regularly used on corporate trains after most of them were withdrawn from regular mainline service in the 70s-80s.  People often complain that Greaseball is barely relevant circa the 80s, which isn’t really true since a lot of E and F units were used on commuter lines for years afterward (if often in cab car form, which are terrifying in any talking train verse).  But there’s another huge loophole that gives a perfect excuse for his existence well into the modern day.  Union Pacific itself used a set of three E9s on their corporate specials until 2019!  They only got pulled due to wheel issues… got no lovers if you got no wheels I guess.  But now you have a perfect excuse for why Greaseball is a 50s-era engine with UP colors pulling passenger trains well after the railroad axed those services in the early 70s.  He’s a corporate pawn!  He’s one of the faces of their company, chauffeuring executives around. Which leads into another fascinating topic with him.

UNION PACIFIC, FREIGHT RAILROADS, AND PASSENGER RAIL

All of the modern big Class I railroads in the US suck in similar ways, but Union Pacific has a stronger identity and seems to have the largest cultural presence abroad, making it the most visible and appealing of them to the public.  It tends to be THE American railroad to many, which goes well with Greaseball’s basis being THE American diesel engine.  Yes, they do have some cool heritage fleet stuff and really cool heritage unit paint jobs, but you’ll never see me depict them in a terribly positive way (if at all) because they’re a PR campaign like the Budweiser Clydesdales for an infamously awful company.  Make no mistake, this is a company that’s been voted “worst place to work” on multiple occasions (and its cohorts aren’t much better).  That’s the ironic thing about Electra being made a crappy boss, Amtrak is notably much better to its workers (and steam engines are the most competitive where labor is cheapest and least organized).  The main thing is unreasonable on-call hours, lack of sick leave, vacation, and break days in general, and working conditions.  Look into the blocked 2022 railroad strike for more on this.  Greaseball could be SO nasty to the freight to reflect this if you made him a symbol of railroad leadership.  You’d have any railroaders in the audience booing him if they did this in the US, it’s a very relevant political issue.  Ironically, things weren’t nearly as bad labor-wise in the 80s, ALW just really bet on the right horse in terms of railroads to align a train villain with.  But there’s a more prominant and existing aspect of canon that also fits the crappy things UP and other class Is do.

Passenger rail has never been as profitable as freight in the US. To give a modern ballpark estimate, I’ve heard $30,000 revenue on a fully loaded longer passenger train vs $500,000 revenue on a train of oil tankers.  And that’s not even including the higher maintenance standards that passenger rail requires, which adds millions to its cost and makes it almost impossible for it to turn a profit.  There is a reason why almost all countries with widespread passenger rail today have nationalized rail systems and even US passenger service is all government-run outside Brightline and museums.  

This situation was particularly bad in the 50s-60s before Amtrak took over passenger service.  Passenger trains absolutely bled money overall, and many of them were required to keep running even at massive losses per government regulation because they were an essential service.  This contributed to the financial ruin of many railroads, and most of them dropped passenger service or sold it to the government as soon as it was offered.  UP in particular was more financially stable, but also happily got rid of their passenger trains when offered.

Since then, the giant merged Class I railroads have become almost exclusively freight-oriented and hostile towards Amtrak-run passenger services.  They’re almost all terrible, but UP is one of the more visible offenders, holding up commuter services in Chicago, and contributing to the massive delays in long-distance western trains.  “Coach sexism” in the form of widespread hostility towards passenger rail by the likes of UP is one of the few canon social metaphors that WORKS.  The other engines would not be that way considering the systems they’re aligned with, but Greaseball could be made so, so much worse.    

There is a weird element of “I hate my wife” boomer humor when people describe passenger trains.  There’s “keeping freight trains in line” schedule-wise due to their time sensitivity.  There’s being seen as needlessly spendy for PR reasons (often true in the older days) paralleling “my wife wastes money on stupid things”.  There’s being seen as more delicate and refined due to needing better track conditions and gentler handling because you know, humans have standards that grain hoppers and sand don’t.  There’s the way that passenger rail isn’t as profitable as freight and basically requires government subsidies… not unakin to caring jobs and “women’s work” in general vs blue collar industrial jobs (Caveat: passenger rail employees were almost all male until Amtrak).  In short, yeah the freight railroads’ treatment of passenger trains in the US does have parallels to sexism, if slightly different from how canon does it. Abruptly dumping them in the 70s also fits Greaseball ditching Dinah mid-show. 

Even if you go the comparatively mild route of mirroring modern railroads, you still have him treating the coaches as second class vs freight (despite them being legally prioritized).  This is a major issue and why Amtrak has so many delays on long distance trains.  To summarize a complicated issue: due to the relatively unique economics of railroads, they are incentivized to run fewer, longer, irregular freight trains that have become so large they don’t fit in sidings and can’t physically let prioritized passenger trains through.  They then get delayed for hours, especially if the freight train breaks down (bonus: freight trains have a staff of two, engineer and conductor.  The conductor may have to walk up to THREE MILES to check out a possible defect on a car, delaying even more).  The Class Is have a broadly hostile relationship with Amtrak in general for various reasons related to insurance and minimal investment in track maintenance, and it even affects non-Amtrak passenger services like steam excursions.  UP has its personal steam fleet for publicity reasons,  but all of the Class Is are various shades of hostile to running steam excursions with passengers now due to those same reasons.  Even UP barely sells public tickets for theirs.  

Bonus: the reason Mexico has basically no passenger rail now is due to the nationalized railroads being taken over by companies heavily aligned with US freight railroads and with many similar attitudes towards passenger service.  They ditched virtually all of it en masse when they took over. Turbo works perfectly as just Greaseball but in Mexico because the same thing happened there… only a few years before the Mexican Stex production happened.  Electra might be an even more pathetic and unthreatening character there though, because the single, long-delayed electrified mainline built by NdeM was ripped out after only a few years of service by the  private freight railroads.  

WARNING: Leave now if you do not want to read about how abusive Greaseball could be made based to US railroads’ treatment of passenger trains pre-70s.  It’s not graphic, but it is blunt and dark.  I put this at the end for a reason, there is nothing beyond this last section.  

Basically, canon even at its worst arguably undersells how awful Greaseball could be to Dinah and the coaches if you make them symbols of UP and other major railroads vs passenger service pre-Amtrak.  They could be even MORE toxic.  You have a situation now where he outright hates her and wants her gone for above reasons, but is forced to stay in the relationship due to outside requirements and is fundamentally built for that kind of setup as an E-unit.  Railroads forced to keep passenger services usually didn’t have mandated quality standards for them.  They just had to have something.  This led to pathetically short trains (one or two cars), understaffing, and poor maintenance because they just had to have SOME passenger train on that line.  Track conditions reached terrible standards in the 70s on railroads that were near bankruptcy and delaying maintenance.  I absolute do not blame canon for not going this dark in a kids show, but basically there is no limit to how miserable Greaseball could make her life, short of actually killing her. I can’t understate how much she symbolizes something he’d want to rid himself of at any cost but can’t and will take that out on.  It’s BLEAK.  I don’t think I’d even write them this dark myself.

Well… now you see why I do not redeem and revise Greaseball the way I do Electra.  While the latter is wrongly demonized in an impressive number of ways, Greaseball is awful for all the right ones, to extents deeper than the creators probably ever imagined.  He is so versatile and nearly timeless in his awfulness.  If Greaseball were portrayed as remotely good I’d be ripping him to greater shreds than I do Rusty, but he’s great as a hateable bad guy who’s entertaining and globally recognizable even by much of the general public.  Despite all this, I’m fine with him just being a cartoon bully because it’s more palatable and not wrong.  But you could also make him so much nastier than even the workshop if you wanted to go darker.  

[st4rsdoyoulikedem]

Since I’ve been following how much the f1 teams involve their f1academy drivers I wanted to make a post keeping track of the things the team do, so here it is (this is mostly from the 2025 season):

McLaren:

- They regularly post Ella on their story

- Oscar went to visit her garage in Jeddah and talk with her a bit, also took some pictures

Ferrari:

- They do media challenges with both Maya and Aurelia (even though Aurelia doesn’t race under a Ferrari livery)

- Maya got a special suit (the same as the f1 drivers) for both of the times they raced with a special livery in Miami

- Both Maya and Aurelia are a part of their driver academy so they have bootcamps with Dino and Rafa (and previously Ollie). They also get posted on the fda account alongside the boys.

Red bull:

- They regularly invite the academy drivers into the garage during their race weekends

- They made a ‘family picture�� with the f1academy drivers and the f1 drivers

- They also post them a lot, they even created an account specifically for the vcarb/red bull f1academy drivers

- They do a lot of media challenges as well

- They let Hamda drive at FOS Goodwood last year and included her in all of the pictures with the many generations of red bull f1 drivers

Vcarb:

- They pretty much do all of the stuff red bull does

- They celebrated Rafaela’s birthday with a cake and they even made her a card

- They regularly visit Rafa on the grid before a race, the drivers and team principal.

- They had Amna in their team photo at the end of the year last year

Sauber:

- They have a series called: ‘rookie 5’ It’s basically a debrief between Gabriel and Emma before the race weekend because they are both rookies in their respective series and they both have the racing number 5

- They have appointed their previous f1academy drivers, Carrie Schreiner, as team brand ambassador

- They also regularly post Emma on their socials

Williams:

- They’ve had Lia on team Torque in 2024 for Jeddah (her yapping with Logan and Alex was great need more of that this year)

- They let Lia drive at FOS Goodwood last year

- They regularly post Lia on their socials

Aston Martin:

- They post Tina’s results on their story

- They include her in a lot of talks and conferences (I don’t really know how to word it bc English is my second language)

Mercedes:

- They are the best when it comes to including their f1academy driver!!

- They gave her a special livery when the f1 drivers only had special suits

- They always include Doriane in media during her race weekend, film video’s with her and include her in media photos

- They often visit her at her garage or on the grid before her race

- They also have more young girls in their driver academy like Luna Fluxa and Julia Montlaur so they’re doing more than most teams in supporting young girls in karting so they can climb the steps of the feeder series ladder

- They included Luna and Doriane in their team photo at the end of the year laat year

Haas:

- They post Courtney her results on their story

- They filmed one of their challenges with her on their youtube but haven’t done much media with her besides that

Alpine:

- They are the worst when it comes to including their f1academy driver, and it needs to change imo

- Their f1academy driver literally won the championship last year for fucks sake!!! And they still didn’t include her in their team photo or end of the year recap or nothing!!

If anyone knows things I should add please comment and I will make a new post adding your comments bc I’m just human so I’m sure I missed something so please remind me:)

[in-the-multiverse]

While almost everyone carves wooden things, Golden Fool went for shiny. He was the one and only goldsmith on the server and took pride in making beautiful jewelry. It was mostly for himself: dozens of bulky rings so he could flaunt a new combination every week, chandelier earrings ranging from gothic to floral, torque and festoon necklaces when he felt extra fancy, simpler and lighter necklaces on the days that called for a minimal (but still quite stylish) look

The gemstones that were skillfully embedded in them came from…around the server. Didn’t matter where, everything was his anyways. He stood clear of the “cursed” crystals the wizard man had. Ugly plastic

No one else was allowed to wear his jewelry. There were, however, very few exceptions

Milkman isn’t one to wear big, fancy shmancy gold. He likes how they look, but honestly- they’re too clunky and noisy for him. The first thing Fool made for him were gold buttons to replace the wack plastic ones on his jacket. Just a pop of color, a little glamour with a geometric pattern. Halfway through the smithing process, Fool had an idea for a matching gold patch on his hat. Then two extra buttons for the end of his jacket sleeves as well. He tailored them in with care

They were small, dapper, perfect, and Milkman loved them. His partner admired the new look in the mirror. There was an extra shine to him —and not just literally— confidence lit up his face, he had an extra pep in his step as he walked around the server, and those long hours Fool spent making the ornaments look just right became very worth it to see Milkman a little happier

Every now and again, Milkman came to him with a sheepish request for new gold. He promised he was doing his best to not accidentally fall into the void. It held up to be true. As the months went by, void deaths become scarce and the occasional creeper was to blame for lost accessories. And every time he asked for new ones: Fool gave the same deep sigh, crossed his arms and asked “So what design would you like this time?” Milkman always complimented the speed it took for them to be created, and he was delighted by the extra surprises thrown in

Fool didn’t tell him about the hidden chest filled with an array of golden buttons, patches, gemstone hat charms, and hat pins. He saw this coming

In the early days, Vintage wanted to wear dangle earrings with cherry wood flowers. It took a lot of trial and error. During a hangout, she carved off more than expected, kept trying to save it as a smaller design, kept misjudging cuts, until her earrings became sad little chunks. It had been a long week and she almost gave up on wood carving right then and there

Fool sat down next to them and shared a handful of stories where he screwed up gold smithing. Like- taking a sip of molten gold instead of the cup of coffee that was right next to it, or that time he sneezed while etching a very complicated pattern and continued one millimeter off, one exhausted afternoon he chipped off gold from his skin instead of his project—ouch—, and boy was he glad no one else was around the day his (unchecked) workstation collapsed on itself and he had to literally play the floor is lava. With each retelling, he was met with a surprised laugh and the frustration eased from Vintage’s shoulders. She wasn’t alone in making mistakes. If Fool went through it and still made amazing works, it wasn’t hopeless for her

He taught her a couple tricks to get 3d shapes a little closer to what she imagined in her head. Gold smithing and wood carving were very different processes, but any idea began at a sketch

Two weeks later, Vintage gifted him a charm bracelet. It was decently detailed and adjusted nicely to his wrist. Not shiny, but their pride at finally making something look cute and the time they spent on it was more than enough to graciously wear it. A couple days later, Fool surprised her with a beaded bracelet, gorgeously flower themed. They could be matching!

Vintage adored it and showed it off to anyone who stopped to have a conversation with her. When the others yearned for a cool shiny thing like hers, she gave a sweet smile and teased them for being on Fool’s enemy list. Because even if birch was on neutral grounds with someone, it was only a matter of time before crime and chaos fell their way. Anyone who wasn’t a friend was kept at arm’s length. Which meant— no shiny for youuu

One day it disappeared. Must’ve gotten lost in cherry’s god awful storage system. Vintage felt so, so sorry they lost it. They knew Fool spent precious time on it and they’d hate to be a bother asking for another one. But Fool shrugged it off, it was no biggie, really. In fact, it gave him the opportunity to indulge in designs he sketched out. By the end of the week he made a new friendship bracelet, charm necklace, and cuff ring that suited her unicorn horn nicely. Vintage was so happy she nearly cried, she thanked him over and over and promised to keep them in a better place

A few weeks went by, and she was utterly distraught at losing them. All of them. She swore up and down they were in her enderchest, she did wear them out one fancy evening, must’ve forgotten to put it back. They said they checked all over cherry kingdom and retraced her steps, but no shiny :(

Again they lamented to Fool, and again he workshopped another few accessories to replace those. By the 4th time, he started to question her genuineness. His gifts never lasted longer than 3 weeks, it seemed more like a scheduled “disappearance”. It was by chance he spotted her strolling on the edge of the shopping district with her new jewelry. She clasped them off, held a fistful of his work over the edge, and let it drop

He stopped talking with Vintage after that. She’d been acting weird lately anyways. Their handcrafted bracelet went to the void, too

And when Milkman accused him of working behind his back— oohhh

Fool stormed up to the hidden chest and melted everything back into a pot of liquid gold. It was his and he could do whatever he wanted with it. Have it ready to be refurnished into new accessories for himself. Milkman would never get anything new, either

When the Halloween Ball rolled around, he made sure to wear the most exquisite gold he’s ever made. He wanted eyes on him. He wanted people to feel jealous when they looked at him. He wanted admiration like no other and hoped it would draw the others to him. Novelty was the gateway to trust. Just. Everyone to give him another chance

Look at how incredible his gold smithing was! Didn’t you want something shiny too? Didn’t you want to be his friend?

Eyes definitely looked in his direction. But the longer the night dragged on the more self conscious he became. People kept their distance. Fool swatted away any naive hope that dared fester in his lonely soul. Of course they did. They should. Everyone was hiding something, exchanging whispers and glances that could only be about him. How dare he dress himself as a spectacle, and beckon attention when none of them deserved it. Everyone had a weird thing going on with them. Everyone had it out for him. What else did the void want? More of his jewelry? His kingdom? They had to be working together. They wanted to take more from him. He couldn’t trust these…these—

A glint of gold called to him

Amongst the crowd, a singular hat pin shined underneath the chandelier lights. Milkman was lost in his own world, giggling and dancing with someone else

Fool heard the gold on his skin crack and crumble

The greedy one having a love language of gift giving was a pretty big deal

The Librarian knows this, and they know they aren’t here to be a replacement. They leave his goldsmith workshop alone

Let it collect dust

[gortashs-skidmark]

Fluoride (Mouthwashing x Reader)

A few excerpts from my story! Mostly parts with Jimmy because it's juicy. This is not a jimmy x reader. I do not support that shit. Three chapters out now! I hope the actual story isn't underwhelming.

𝐐𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐯: Ciggysn’milk 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝: Sensorycarrot

CW: Jiarreha :/ Mature audiences only (written for 18+)

✩

College. It didn't secure you a job, but it surely secured your right to exercise intelligence. And if you love to do anything, it's to rub salt into the self inflicted wounds of others. 

"..." You stood there, stunned. A father capable of as much didn't hesitate. It could be worse. You didn't have it bad. Not as bad as most. Should you accept and let your voice diminish under your own father's corporation, or fight and never be heard from again?

It was the illusion of choice. 

"𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡. 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝. 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐈 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮?"

✩

Meanwhile you were stuck in your own head, a tall man in blue strode over. The heels of his cowboy boots clicked on the pavement. Each stride was one of confidence. Internally he was panicking. Curly had always been rather socially anxious. Not only that, he felt irresponsible for bringing two young adults on a four man ship. He didn't have extra cryopods prepared in case of an emergency. All he could do was breathe. 

You looked quite... busy. You were staring wide eyed at the ground breathing through your mouth. Curly hoped that wasn't your usual state. Surrounded by many many plastic bags overfilled with medical supplies. 

"ᵃʰᵐᵐ-ʰᵍᵐ" he cleared his throat. Your eyes fluttered snapping out of your panic. 

"𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲?"

"𝐎𝐡, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐞𝐭."

"𝐎𝐡. 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲."

✩

"𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝?" Curly climbed the last step of the stairs. Jimmy was at the top of it with a stack of rags in his hand. He moved out of the way for Jimmy to get through. 

"𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐭, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬." Jimmy didn't move though, a contemplative look on his face. 

"𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠?"

"𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝." he seemed torqued. 

"𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞?" Curly knew Jimmy could be paranoid and distrustful with anything and everyone. It was only the second day. He'd warm up to them in time, he wanted to hope. 

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞, 𝐈 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐞." that was weird... but not inappropriate. 

"𝐔𝐡. 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐭'𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐈 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬..." 

"𝐎𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭." Jimmy was underwhelmed with Curly's response to his discoveries. He wanted him to say something, give him an answer, validate his feelings.

"𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨." he passed Jimmy who watched him disappear around the corner completely before heading back down to the cockpit. 

✩

"𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐚'𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩." he said, or, stated with near surprise. You took out your cheap earbuds. 

"𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭." you looked over at the sleeping body. Her mauve lips were parted slightly, her lashes kissed her cheeks softly. 

"𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞?" he crossed his arms. 

"𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝?" 

"𝐔𝐡. 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡. 𝐂𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐦." his white sleeves were covering both of his arms. There was no blood seeping through, that you could see. You got a nasty feeling in your gut. 

𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯, (𝘺/𝘯). your mothers words echoed in your head. 

"𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞. 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐝? 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩." You started to get up and look for your self-defense keys. 

"𝐍𝐨, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟." he stepped out of the doorway and it slunked shut. You looked at Anya's figure, which shifted lightly. Jimmy  backed himself into a corner this time. He should've recognized that you would be some kind of cock-block considering '𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳'

✩

"𝐔𝐡𝐦. 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭... 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫."

He handed you the device and you clicked it off. 

"𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝" you nodded and looked at the door, hoping he'd open it. Though, Jimmy stood up, backing you against the door. His fingers grazed your hips and his breath wafted in your face. He looked down at you. 

Your fingers itched. They grazed over one of his hands, passing them and taking the safety off of your taser. Jimmy's nose lightly traced down your neck. He sighed and let his finger tips wander up to your waist. At any moment, you were ready to attack Jimmy, hit the door button and bolt. You hoped he would back off, but something told you he won't.

✩

"𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚, 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒐."

[everestblue]

bows! Archery! Dragons would probably do archery mostly the same way humans do, pull the string back and stuff. One slight issue is that dragons might have a shorter arm-to-body ratio than us humans, which can be an issue since a dragon might not be able to pull the bowstring as far back as required to effectively use the weapon… But that can be fixed with an extended grip! Which then creates a new problem as the dragon would lose or at least be limited with their ability to stabilize the arrow with their talons… so then you could get an arrow shelf to hold the arrow! Problem solved!

You can also fix the short arms problem by just, like, using certain art styles— Like, my art style for dragons has them have really long friggin arms, but a dragon in joy ang’s style is probably gonna have stubbier arms and thus a far harder time using a bow!

Now for flight archery! I think horse archery would be a good parallel to shooting a bow whilst flying since both involve shooting bows at fairly high speeds. there’s a bunch of horse archery styles and techniques in the world, so I’ll narrow it down to Mongolian horse archery since they’re the most famous!

Mongolian horse archers typically use a different style of shooting than how most modern archers, where instead of using the Mediterranean draw where you pull the string back with your index, middle, and ring finger, they’d instead pull the string back using the knuckle and thumb in something called a thumb draw! (or eastern draw/Mongolian draw/Turkish draw/—I’ll just call it thumb draw)

Mongolian horse archers also placed their arrows on the outside of the bow (that being the right side of the bow arm facing outward if your right handed and vice versa) which makes it easier and faster to knock arrows.

Both of these techniques, the thumb and placing the arrow on the outside, when paired together actually help stabilize the arrow. The thumb draw provides a constant torque/force against the arrow which helps keep it pinned against the bow arm which makes it less likely to get knocked about. This can be rather useful when shooting from an unstable and shaky platform like a galloping horse, or in this case, a flying dragon!

That doesn't mean its impossible to use the mediteranean draw on the standard olympic side on horseback of course, as proven by Lajos Kassai, a Hungarian bowyer who exclusively uses the Mediterranean draw due to a thumb injury he sustained!

The parallel between horse archery and flight archery isn’t perfect though, as in horse archery the archer is independant from the horse, meaning that the archer can shoot in whatever direction they want whilst also being able to move in a straight line at the same time.

For a dragon however, the direction of their flight is directly tied to the rotation of their own body, as their wings are connected to their torso. So if a dragon twisted their torso to the right, then the angle of their wings would also be changed and the dragon would begin to veer towards the right.

And In order to pull a bow, it has to be around perpendicular to your torso, meaning that you can only fire an arrow from your left or right flanks.

So for example, a human horse archer could just twist their body and shoot straight forward, and the horse would continue to run in the same direction. If a dragon wanted to shoot at a target that was directly in front of them however, the dragon would have to twist their torso about 90 angle or less either left or right in order to get the bow lined up with their target, which would then cause the dragon’s flight path to veer off course.

Of course, a dragon could probably just reorientate themselves right afterwards and continue on with their straight flight path, though it might slow down their speed a bit. That might not sound like too big of a deal, but in a scenario where the dragon is pursuing another target, it could become a bit of a hindrance as the dragon would be forced to slow down or make their flight path longer every time they fired their bow!

Also, it also might be practical for a dragon to learn how to be ambidextrous with a bow. For example, if the dragon was holding their bow in their left hand and wanted to shoot at a target to their right, they might find it faster to switch the bow to their other hand, rather than turning around in the opposite direction just to aim at the target.

A dragon also can’t exactly flap their wings whilst drawing a bow, as the bow would get in the way of the wings when being aimed. So a dragon would most likely have to glide whenever firing a bow to avoid accidently clipping their wings.

There’s also a problem with aiming, as most WoF dragons have helluva long necks, so their eyes aren’t going to be as aligned with the arrow. It’s not impossible to shoot an arrow like this, but its definitely trickier! I suppose the dragon could technically twist their neck down to the arrow and aim it regularly, though that does sound rather uncomfortable and there’s probably a good chance the string might slap the dragon’s cheek or ear whenever it’s released, which can be a problem if your use a heavy draw weight bow.

Oh, also one final tangent that isn't too relevant but I thought was cool, a WoF dragon bow would be really big. According to that one official Rose and Smolder measurement chart, adult dragons can be like around 17 ft/5m tall. Long bows can usually be as tall as humans, so if you upscaled that to a dragon height you could probably end up with a bow in the 15-20ft range depending on the type of long bow, that's basically a seige ballista right there! Imaging getting hit by that? You’d just immediately vanish! Poof! Gone! Nothing!

…Yeah that's about all, cheers!

[hazelkjt]

Glamtober 24- "Dress To Impress"

"And you're sure this'll help?" "If that simpleton doesn't take notice of you after this, then he is by far the most dense man I have ever had the displeasure to know."

Lady Laniaitte de Haillenarte assisting Hazel in getting ready for an outing with one Emmanellain de Fortemps, mostly for the sake of her own sanity watching the "Will They/Won't They" unfold right before her eyes.

Hazel Glam-

Boulevardier's Hat (Jet Black & Dalamud Red)

Valentione Emissary's Ruffled Dress (Jet Black)

Dirndl's Wrist Torque (Dalamud Red)

Woodland Warden's Skirt (Jet Black & Dalamud Red)

Loyal Housemaid's Pumps (Dalamud Red & Jet Black)

Rakshasa Earring of Slaying

Archeo Kingdom Choker of Slaying

[harteus]

Hey - you're an archaeology student, right? Have you ever done any work that bridges your two interests? Could you show us?

This could be the best question anyone's ever asked me! I am an archaeology student! In my second year right now. I haven't done a lot of work inspired by the type of archaeology we're learning at uni (which is mostly Scandinavian) but these two pieces are inspired by two Scandinavian findings! One is a vindflöjel (wind vane) found here in Sweden, from the Viking era, the other is of this torque also found in Sweden but on the island of Gotland. (Fun fact, this one was stolen from the Museum of Gotland in the 80s and has not yet been returned!)

[inchidentally]

@ the anons I’ve accrued over this year who brought up Oscar not being embraced by the media team I’m still not going to post the asks bc there’s a lot of doom etc in there but like…

(and even tho it’s easy to find out who it is I’m not including who posted it bc do NOT want hate or anything in their comments and fandom issues =/= relevance to real life teams and their jobs)

“carland0 won the McLaren constructors… Oscar was there ig anyway remember when I staged a puppet show to commemorate carland0” LIKE SHSBSBVSBSBD

and I get that to a media person the subjects are mostly valuable for how good they are on camera bc even Andrea only gets a passing mention in this post compared to a bromance and he’s the actual architect that Lando himself says is behind this win - but he’s also famously deer in the headlights when a camera is on him.

it does possibly explain why the quality and quantity of McLaren content took a sudden nosedive not long after Oscar joined. (side note that Joe also moved on from McLaren early this year who was on the media team and spent a lot of social time with Oscar and posted him more) it’s a lil sad bc if you watch any of Oscar’s Prema content where he feels comfortable and friendly with the people behind the cameras he’s hilarious and willing to “dance” and yap and be silly. even in Alpine he was actually known by broadcast teams for being funny and a sardonic yapper and meme guy. but I think the McLaren ppl mistook Oscar coming into the team in the worst possible way PR wise and clamming up as a result as that being his real personality. Nicole saying how she wanted more people to see his real personality and ironically Carlos himself warming so much to Oscar despite the on track rivalry and not rly hanging out like… I hope the media team maybe start this next season fresh and realize that people who aren’t naturals on camera are still worth putting in effort to help them relax and be themselves. and if one of the people who’s been there for so many years put in that effort then it would have a big ripple effect !!

again I am not gonna post those asks bc a)do NOT support any harassment (however well intentioned) of employees just doing their jobs and b)in the grand scheme of things socmed does not matter and c)Oscar thankfully is blissfully unaware and/or does NOT care. he brings up Carlos and Daniel and carland0 totally on his own and he is utterly free of ego about his perception or presence in McLaren media.

and while it definitely means less Oscar and therefore landoscar content per capita or whatever the phrase is, the whole landoscar dynamic is that it’s so completely not slick fun millennial YouTuber ready PR content and they’re funny and cute and have their own unique chemistry even in the under 2 minutes allowed them for each video. and ofc Oscar has his own social media to put his dry humor and chronically online references <3

but as I saw in comments on a different post, Oscar might take longer to win over the media people but the people who matter most like Andrea and the ppl in the garage and factory and crucially !! the women working directly with him all utterly utterly adore him. he’s quietly there just being a hard worker and proving himself <3

and ultimately ofc the people who don’t like that Lando said he’s decided to not joke or perform as much for media (and saying he picked up from Oscar to just be himself and relax more) can always go back to the old content! and since Carlos creates the same fun bromance atmosphere with all his teammates I mean we all know Team Torque is about to become one of the best parts of race week media. Williams media team is going to eat him UPPPP

anyway yea none of it is deep it just got me thinking about how Oscar post alpinegate withdrew so much and so many ppl haven’t looked up who he was before to realize what a fun silly chatty kitten he is and that ofc he must be bc Lando holds him in his hand lovingly for a reason - and I do think when the ppl who got used to the Carlos and Daniel school of media warm up to Oscar and learn him more we’ll get that high res DSLR filmed content again instead of portrait iPhone instagram <3

(side note the whole thing if Unboxed dropping bc of DTS got debunked. DTS hasn’t stopped any other teams content and if it were true then Lando wouldn’t be allowed to make Landologs. this was definitely a media team decision made midway thru 2023)

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1953 Dodge ‘Zeder’ Storm Z-250

1953 Dodge ‘Zeder’ Storm Z-250 Concept with body by Bertone

One-off

The Storm Z-250 was developed by Chrysler engineer Fred Zeder to evaluate the feasibility of producing a vehicle that would capture a portion of the growing American sports car market.

Built on a rigid tube frame chassis (built mostly by Chrysler engineer, John Butterfield, in his basement), it was intended to be a dual-purpose sports/racing car because Zeder Jr. envisioned a car with swappable bodies.

In 1952, while on Christmas vacation in Europe, Zeder visited Fiat's Chief Engineer in Turin.

Dante Giacosa recommended a visit to Bertone.

Though they were busy designing and building the Alfa Romeo BAT series, they agreed to build the body for Zeder's new car and promised three months to finish the car.

It took nine months to finish.

Unique to the Storm Z-250 was that the comfortable ‘touring’ body could be removed by unscrewing four bolts and replaced with an ultralight 150-pound fiberglass body for ‘racing’.

The mechanical components of the car included a Dodge hemi V8 truck engine with 260hp and 330ft-lbs of torque.

Other parts came from Plymouth and Dodge vehicles, including brakes, radiator, clutch, fuel tank, rear axle, and the steering system.

The transmission was a new unit developed by the Spicer Division of Dana Corporation.

The Storm did not reach the assembly line because high production costs would have made it too expensive to sell in profitable quantities.

The Z-250 would have competed with the Ford Thunderbird, Chevrolet Corvette, and the Kaiser-Darrin.

Zeder drove the Z-250 for 16 years.

He loaned it to the Northwood University where it remained until 1992.

Unfortunately, water leaked into the cylinders so the engine was removed and replaced with a 1965 Dodge V8 with two four-barrel carburetors.

After the work was completed, Zeder continued to drive the car in his home in California.