#probably a terrible time to post again but eh

[rhaenella]

LN4 | Challenge Accepted

pairing: lando norris x non-driver!reader

genre: one shot ✿

summary: it’s been five years since the last chinese gp, so when you and lando are set up to race each other on the shanghai circuit on mclaren’s state of the art simulator, anything is possible…

word count: 5.6k

masterlist

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The sound of feet tapping restlessly against the floor, alternated by the squeaking of a swivel chair spinning round, echoed through the large hall at McLaren HQ. With a sigh, you refreshed your social media—again—but there were no new posts of any kind to keep you occupied. You’d already gone through all of them.

Your boyfriend and F1 driver, Lando Norris, was somewhere in the massive building, filming interviews, challenges and whatnot for the McLaren social media platforms. He had asked if you'd come with him today, mostly because you already saw so little of each other due to his busy schedule. Not that you saw much of each other right now, but at least there wasn’t an ocean between you like there usually was. 

Besides, he’d promised he would wrap up as quickly as he could, and take you out for dinner. So. The wait was worth it. Even though you were bored out of your mind for the foreseeable future.

After walking up and down the hall’s boulevard four times over, admiring all of the beautiful, historical cars on display, you had checked out the trophy wall, which was just as impressive. But since you weren’t allowed access anywhere else inside the building, at least not without a chaperone, there wasn’t much else for you to do or see. That’s how you found yourself in your current situation, spinning around in a chair like an impatient five-year-old, the line of racing cars and the lake outside whooshing by. 

“Y/N?”

The chair came to an abrupt stop. “Yea–yes?” you squinted at the blurry figure in front of you. 

Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to spin around so many times that your vestibular system now made it feel like you were on a ship battling a terrible storm. Luckily, once your vision cleared, you recognised the person instantly. It was Lando’s performance engineer, Andrew Jarvis. You’d seen him around race tracks a few times—he was always very friendly and kind to you.

“Jarv! Hi, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. What about yourself?”

“Oh, good, good… Enjoying the scenery,” you sneered, waving a hand.

“Right,” he drawled, looking you up and down with an amused smile. “Bored?”

“Yes,” you groaned, sinking a little deeper into the chair. “So. Fucking. Bored.”

Jarv chuckled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid Lando is still tied up. I think he and Oscar are filming some kind of… song challenge? I don’t know,” he shrugged with another laugh. “It’s not exactly my area of expertise.”

Your lips quirked up. “Imagine if it was. You could start hiding strategy calls in songs and sing them over the board radio.”

He wavered. “That would be…”

“Genius?”

“Eh, well,” he faltered, his mouth twitching all the same. 

“Right. Maybe not,” you laughed. 

Although, privately you thought it would be a hilarious idea. With a tinge of brilliance, perhaps. But the pinnacle of motorsport would probably be a little too serious to see it your way. 

“I’m obviously not an engineer, or a strategist, or a driver. So, I guess I’ll just stay here,” you sighed, patting the armrests of your new friend, the swivel chair. “And try to excel in exercising patience instead.”

Jarv nodded, his brows furrowing. “Maybe you don’t have to…” 

You eyed him with a suspicious look. “What do you mean?”

He checked his watch and glanced around before looking back to you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I have an idea. Come with me.”

Jarv had already turned on his heel before you could object, expecting you to blindly follow him to wherever it was he intended to take you. Which you did… without too much thought. Let’s just say boredom got the best of you. Choosing between sitting another god knows how many hours in that chair, or doing something—anything—the choice wasn’t hard. So, you leaped from your seat, sprinting to catch up with him. 

“Wait!” 

He slowed down, and you fell into step beside him. “What’s your idea? Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

You neared the large double doors at the rear of the boulevard. Jarv pressed his right thumb on a small, glass box on the wall next to them, waiting for his fingerprint to be authorised. The system scanned his print, and the light tinged green. “Welcome, Mr. Jarvis,” a female voice said as the doors automatically opened in front of you.

“Nice.”

Jarv grinned, gesturing for you to precede him into the restricted wing of McLaren HQ. The part that the general public never got to see. You gazed around in amazement. You knew it was a large building, but it was more like a maze back here, and you quickly lost all sense of direction.

“I should probably text Lando, he’s gonna wonder where I’ve disappeared to.”

“Don’t worry, Lando is heading where we’re going, too.”

You relaxed a little at that, however your curiosity didn’t subside as you trailed after Jarv throughout the many long corridors. Where the hell were you going?

The behind the scenes looked arguably even more impressive than all the trophies and race-winning cars that were being flaunted in the entrance hall. You passed countless offices, labs, and workshops where employees were working on top-secret updates for the MCL38, or perhaps even next year’s car. And although Jarv kept up a good pace, you were still able to sneak a few glimpses here and there, thanks to all the glass walls. Most of the technology looked so futuristic, you felt like you had accidentally stepped onto the set of a sci-fi film.

Jarv made a sharp right turn down another hallway. This one only had one door at the end, and it wasn’t made out of glass like the rest of them, which prevented you from being able to see what was behind it. 

You read the sign next to the door, which only added to the mystery. 

Strictly No Admittance. Authorised Personnel Only.

“This is it,” Jarv said, retrieving a key to unlock the door, opening it wide. 

Well, there was your authorisation.

You stepped into the mysterious, dimly lit room, your eyes gradually widening with awe. 

The room was roughly twelve by twelve metres, and in the centre stood two professionally altered Formula 1 cars, both with their own 180-degree widescreens set up in a semicircle around them. The back wall was lined with large computer screens, a row of chairs stationed in front of them, which gave you the feeling you were looking at a small-scale pitwall. 

Holy… beep.

Speaking of futuristic tech, this was way up there.

“Welcome to the McLaren simulation room.”

You whirled around to face Jarv, beaming. “This is incredible. I’ve never seen a sim like this before.”

It was true. Sure, Lando had his own simulator at home in Monaco. But it was nothing compared to this piece of craftsmanship.

Jarv hummed, smiling as he walked to the faux-pitwall. “So. You ready to try it out?”

You blinked. “Ready to–wait a minute… what?”

You stared at Jarv as he turned on the computers, pressing buttons here and there that made the right car hum to life. Next, the widescreen around the car powered up as well, causing a wave of light to brighten the otherwise dark room.

“Jarv?”

He opened a cabinet, retrieving a steering wheel before he walked to the simulator. “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t want to.”

“That’s not it,” you trailed off. 

“Good,” he said, turning around, looking at you expectantly. “So get in, then.”

“But… what about Lando? You said he was on his way over here. Don’t they need the room?”

“They will be here to film something in,” Jarv checked his watch again. “In a little over an hour. Until then, the room is empty, and we can use it. I presume you’ve driven a simulator before?”

“Yeah, I have… but don’t I need some kind of special clearance to use one of these?” One of these super expensive, highly accurate simulators that are solely used to train drivers and prepare the real cars and their setups for race weekends. Whatever could go wrong?

“Y/N, don’t worry about it. I’m Lando’s performance engineer. I’m one of the few that gets to decide who uses the sim.”

You shifted your weight, still unsure. “I’m not gonna be any good at it.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have fun, or would you rather return to the waiting area?”

“No.”

Jarv’s smile widened, and he gestured to the sim, inviting you to take a seat.

You hesitantly walked up to the car, twisting your rings, a nervous habit of yours. You’d tried the simulator at Lando’s before, and like you’d already pointed out to Jarv, you weren’t any good at it. Lando had tried to talk you through it, telling you where to break and lift, but it was painfully clear you weren’t cut out to be a driver. 

And now you had to drive in McLaren’s state of the art simulator, under the watchful eye of Lando’s performance engineer. The pressure was real. You didn’t want to make a complete fool out of yourself.

After you’d managed to, somewhat awkwardly, settle yourself in the sim’s seat, Jarv locked the steering wheel into place. It was familiar to you as it looked exactly like the one on Lando’s car, just like everything else on this sim. Except that it didn’t have a front or back wing, or any tyres.

“Alright, before you start driving, it’s important to know the ins and outs of the track you’re racing at. Which in this case will be Shanghai, the location of next weekend’s race,” Jarv said, pressing a few buttons. 

The layout of the track popped up on the screen in front of you, with a sea of information and data appearing on the sides. 

“Don’t worry about the data. We’ll stick to the basics that are of importance to you as a driver. Ready?”

You nodded.

“Good. So, the Shanghai International Circuit has sixteen corners, two DRS-zones on the main straights; one in sector three, and the other on start-finish…”

***

“I don’t know, I feel like maybe I should pursue a musical career,” Lando joked as he and Oscar followed Marion, the head of McLaren’s PR team, down the building’s corridors. 

They had just finished filming another challenge for YouTube. Or Instagram. Or both. Lando didn’t really care about the specifics. It was just another part of his job. Something he’d rather be done with soon, so he could go back to his girl.

Oscar snorted. “Yes, I’m sure you’ll be a Grammy-nominated artist in no time.”

Lando grinned, agreeing with a nod. 

“Alright, lads. One more, and then you’re free to go,” Marion called over her shoulder. 

It was absolute music to Lando’s ears.

“What is it that we have to do?” Oscar asked.

“You’ll be racing each other on the sim, just for a couple of laps, around the Shanghai circuit.”

“I thought we were gonna train on the sim in the morning,” Lando said.

Marion nodded. “You will. This is only a short challenge for a video ahead of the Chinese Grand Prix. Because we haven’t raced there in so long, we thought it’d be fun to film your initial reaction to the track driving the MCL38.”

He and Oscar shared a look. They were always down for a race. There was no question about it.

The click-clacking of Marion’s heels bounced around the hallway as the group made their way to the simulation room. When they arrived, Will, Lando’s race engineer, and a camera and sound crew were waiting for them by the door.

“Why are you all out here? You should be setting up the cameras,” Marion scolded, looking at the men expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

But the men ignored her, instead they all looked to Lando, grinning. He frowned, not at all understanding the meaning behind the knowing looks they were sending him. What was up with them?

“Someone beat us to the sim, I’m afraid,” Will explained, his eyes still on Lando.

Marion turned to Lando as well, equally confused. “What does that mean?”

Lando met her eye and shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

As if on cue, a high pitched scream came from the simulation room, followed by a distinct, “That’s more like it!”

Will and the crew chuckled, but Marion wasn’t having it. “What on earth is going on,” she bristled, pushing past them to enter the room.

Lando followed her, but he couldn’t have been less prepared for the scene they stumbled upon next. 

Occupying one of the simulators was his girlfriend, and right next to you stood Jarv, who was closely monitoring your driving, giving you short and precise instructions. You were going down the straight at full throttle, following Jarv’s pointers as you breaked and hit the curb perfectly for a smooth exit.

What the hell? 

He’d thought you were still waiting for him in the entrance hall on the other side of the building. Never in a million years had he expected to find you here, racing on McLaren’s simulator, looking like you actually knew what you were doing no less. 

So that’s why all the guys had been smirking at him…

“What do we have here?”

You jumped at Lando’s voice, immediately causing the car to spin and crash during your momentary lapse of concentration. 

“Fuck! I was on a flying lap…”

“And a bloody good one at that,” Jarv added, proud.

Lando’s eyebrows shot up. “You were what?” His eyes flicked from you to Jarv, to you, and then back to Jarv. “Mate?”

Before Jarv could utter a word, you turned to face your boyfriend with a wide smile. “Baby, guess what?! I’m not a complete loser at this!”

“I–I’m so proud of you… but,” Lando shook his head, still not understanding any of this. “Why are you two in here?”

You grabbed onto the halo and pulled yourself out of the car to face him. “Jarv came to see how I was doing, and since I had nothing better to do, he suggested I’d give this a try,” you explained, gesturing to the sim.

“Oh, I see,” Lando smiled. 

Yet he struggled to swallow the bitter taste at seeing you spending time and having fun with Jarv. All the while he had been stuck ‘working’. Not that he blamed you for it. He was the one who left you all by yourself for so long. But still… 

“Uhm, but now that you’re all here,” you said, a bit sheepish, your eyes scanning the gathering crowd. “I’ll uhm, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Very well,” Marion called, but she was quickly interrupted.

“No, no, no, no. Wait a second. I need to know something first,” Will spoke, stepping forward. “Jarv, we need your professional assessment, man. How did she do?”

Marion sighed, tapping her phone to check the time, which only made her look more impatient. Lando ignored her, his eyes sliding from you to his performance engineer, curious as well. 

“Y/N did great. She struggled a little at first, but the more laps she did, the better she got,” Jarv beamed. He turned to face Lando. “You know, I reckon she’d even have a good chance at beating you.”

Lando studied him. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m being serious, mate. I’d wager good money on it.”

Marion’s annoyance evaporated within an instant, her eyes lighting up. “Oh gosh, that is a perfect idea, Jarvis.”

“What is? Gambling?” 

“No,” she huffed. “I mean, instead of Lando against Oscar, we can have these two lovebirds race each other on the sim instead!”

“What?” you and Lando cried in unison.

Everyone looked at you, and your cheeks tinged a soft pink. You weren’t used to all the attention, usually preferring to keep a lower profile. Well, as much as that was possible dating a Formula 1 driver.

“Guys, I’m flattered. Truly, I am. But I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes. I know you’re all here to do a job, and that job doesn’t include me…”

“That’s right,” Lando agreed. He shot you a brief smile before addressing Marion. “Besides, she doesn’t like to be the centre of attention, and I don’t want her to embarrass herself in front of the eyes of millions.”

Something stirred inside you. “What does that mean? You don’t think I can beat you?”

“Well, sweetheart…”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you mumbled, your eyes narrowing. 

Under other circumstances, you would have agreed with him. But this last hour and a half with Jarv had boosted your confidence. It had gone really well, exceeding both of your expectations on your sim racing capabilities by miles. And maybe, some part of you, just wanted to show him that.

Like Lando, you never shied away from competition. Not if you had a chance at winning. You weren’t a hundred percent sure if you did right now. But you couldn’t deny you weren’t more than a little curious to find out. And seeing as Lando had just called you out in front of everyone, the only logical thing to do was rise to the challenge.

“You know what? I’m in.”

With that, you climbed back into the snug seat, forcing the thought of having everyone’s eyes on you to the back of your mind. 

Lando’s eyes widened. “What?” 

“Wonderful,” Marion exclaimed. “Let’s roll, people.”

Lando watched as everybody around him immediately jumped into action, including the camera and sound guys who got ready to put it all on film. Jarv grinned and grabbed his tablet, giving a slight nod to Will, who nodded in return and went to start up the second simulator and retrieve a steering wheel for Lando.

“I’ll be assisting Y/N, and just like with a normal race, Will can be Lando’s engineer,” Jarv said.

“Yep,” Will said, holding up the steering wheel as he walked to the other sim. “We’re good to go.”

“We are too!” one of the crewmen announced.

Marion smiled, but it faded when she noticed Lando still standing by the door, not having moved an inch. “What are you waiting for? Get in the car,” she said.

She started pushing Lando in the direction of the other sim, but he stood his ground. 

“Hold on. We can’t do this.”

“What? Why not?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Lando sighed. “You know why.” 

Did they? Did he? 

Lando loved to race, and he certainly loved you. So what was stopping him from combining the two? 

He wasn’t scared of losing—he never has been, and never would. Not that there was any real chance that you, an inexperienced ‘driver’, could beat him today. There was simply no way. 

He’d seen you try the sim at his house, and despite his best efforts, you were, for lack of a better term, absolute rubbish. But then again, Jarv had seemed so sure of himself. That man didn’t lie or exaggerate. He would give it to you straight if you underperformed or weren’t any good. Lando had always admired and respected that. 

So, had Jarv been able to unearth some sort of racing talent that was buried deep inside of you? Something that Lando himself hadn’t managed to uncover…

Was that why he hesitated going up against you? His sense of pride?

Lando groaned internally. If anything, that should make him that much more adamant to race you.

He looked over to see you were already staring at him, ambition burning bright in your eyes. Ambition to beat him. At the thing he did best… It was alluring, and Lando felt his own competitiveness flare. 

“No, we don’t. Honestly, what’s stopping you?”

“It’s only five laps. It’ll be a piece of cake for you, Norris.”

“Unless that’s the problem,” Jarv joked. “Maybe he needs to warm up and familiarise himself with the track first…”

“I think all of you are forgetting that I’m the only one here who actually raced in Shanghai,” Lando shot back, unconsciously taking a step towards the sim.

“And how did that work out for you, mate?” Oscar chimed in.

Lando glared at him and Oscar struggled to contain his laughter. 

“Even better,” you exclaimed, reclaiming your boyfriend’s attention. “You have on track experience and I’ve had a little time to prepare with Jarv. That’s fair enough, right?”

“Y/N… are you sure you want to…” 

He was so close to giving in. He knew it, you knew it, probably everyone did. Besides, you had one more trick up your sleeve. One that would surely make his competitive side overshadow any lingering doubts, and get him to race you in that other sim.

“When have you ever walked away from a race? Hm? Unless you’re scared you’ll lose…”

That struck the intended chord. 

Oh, she didn’t, Lando thought. 

You gave him your most innocent looking smile, but he knew damn well what you were doing. He shook himself. Fine. If you wanted to race him so badly, he would give it to you. And no way in hell would he still consider going easy on you.

Lando promptly made his way to the other car and slid into the seat with practised ease. He signalled Will, who handed him the steering wheel. He clicked it into place before glancing to his right, smiling dangerously. “Alright, you’re on, darling. Challenge accepted.”

At that, Jarv entered a bunch of commands on his tablet, which was connected to the simulator’s system, to set the race parameters. Two cars appeared on the screens, each from their own driver’s point of view, already in position to start racing at Shanghai’s International Circuit.

“As you can see, Lando will start on the right and Y/N will start on the left,” Jarv informed.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Lando sputtered. “Why are you starting from pole and not me?”

“Because I clocked the fastest lap time.”

“You clocked the only lap time.”

You shrugged, smiling. “Take it up with race control, baby.”

“Don’t worry,” Will reassured, looking at his own tablet as he scrolled through the accumulated data from your runs. “Break late, and you can easily overtake her in the first corner.”

Lando nodded, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as the digital green flag was waved.

Jarv leaned in to whisper in your ear: “No, he won’t. Just remember what I taught you.”

“Aye, aye,” you said, focusing on the lights.

The cameras were all set and rolling, and Marion looked around, relishing the unexpected turn of events. This would be an enormous hit online, for sure. Her eyes landed on Oscar who stood to the back, watching the couple with an amused glint in his eye. If only she could involve him as well somehow… that would make it even better.

“Oscar, why don’t you take on the role of commentator?” Marion suggested, her tone indicating that he didn’t have much of a choice. 

Oscar startled. “Oh. Uhm. Yeah, sure.”

He moved to stand in between the two simulators, clearing his throat. “Right. Uhm. Welcome to the Shanghai International Circuit for the 2024 Chinese Grand Prix… It’s Sunday, April 21st—well, not really but let’s go with it—uhm, and we’ll soon start racing–”

“You’re a lousy commentator, Piastri,” Lando interrupted.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “How about you worry about yourself, Norris.”

Lando snickered, but he quickly sobered when the first light gleamed red. Then the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, and…

“It’s lights out and away we go!”

You got away quick, but Lando was faster, years of experience siding with him.

“Lando dives into the first corner, ahead of Y/N. Can she cross back? No, no she cannot. Ah, bummer…” Oscar narrated. “She’s right behind him, though, going into turn 3. Lando nearly missing the apex there, but he recovers well. OH! Oh, never mind. Lando goes wide in turn 6! Yeah, he’s familiar with that one.”

“Shut up,” Lando snapped.

“I didn’t think so, mate,” Oscar grinned, settling into his new character nicely. 

“Y/N is back on his heels as they go down sector two. DRS is not yet enabled, but she is only six tenths behind! Will Y/N be able to overtake Norris without DRS on the straight? She’s getting closer… they’re racing each other into turn 14, and… OH Y/N, massive lock-up! She manages to keep the car on track. Excellent save! But that’s gonna cost her some valuable time.”

You crossed start-finish, eyeing the time as you entered lap two.

Oscar’s voice boomed loud. “DRS enabled! But Y/N is too far–”

“Just 1.2 seconds behind, you can still do this,” Jarv encouraged. “Line-up on the left and take the first corner on the inside. Yeah, like that. Good.”

On the other side of the room, Will was giving Lando similar instructions. It had, after all, been a while since Lando had last raced this track. During his rookie year, no less. Therefore it was currently taking him quite a bit of effort to find the correct race line, especially with the many difficult corners and hairpins around the track. 

“Steady on,” Will said. “Y/N is out of DRS. Let’s keep it that way.”

The couple sped down the track on their simulators, and even though most of your focus was spent on driving and listening to Jarv’s notes, you also marvelled at the accuracy and realism of the sim. From the sensations of the literal car you were seated in, down to the gravel Lando’s little off-track adventure had caused to spread in and around turn 6. Whatever the outcome of the race, this experience would certainly beat waiting around and lounging in that swivel chair.

“Great exit from Norris who is absolutely flying down the straight in sector three, followed by Y/N at 1.4 seconds. Still doing a phenomenal job so far!” Oscar continued, his eyes glued to the screen. “Approaching turn 14, can Y/N manage the hairpin this time? What?! Oh, no! It’s Lando that locks up this time… Oiiioii, mighty turn 14 proves to be too much for both of our star drivers.”

Jarv kept a close eye on the interval time, and thanks to Lando’s mistake, the gap had already shrunk to 1.1 seconds. “Okay, now use the extra power from the ERS to get closer,” he instructed.

You did as you were told, pressing the correct button on the steering wheel, which gave you an extra boost to get even closer to Lando.

“Y/N gaining on Norris! And she’s now back within DRS at 0.9 seconds. Whoa, what a truly remarkable performance by someone who has never driven a race car or a sim like this before! I’d vote for her as driver of the day…”

“No one asked your opinion,” Lando cut off, sounding a little strained.

“Whatever,” Oscar shrugged, unbothered. “Lando Grumpy-Ass Norris struggles to maintain the gap between him and his girlfriend, hitting the curb a little enthusiastically right there. Oh, Y/N faces the same issues! It’s all about keeping the focus now, ladies and gents. Will Y/N be able to close the gap? Will she be able to attack Norris?”

Marion stood behind the cameras, watching gleefully how you and Lando raced each other around the virtual Shanghai circuit. Oh, you were even better than she could have ever anticipated. Better than anyone in the room could have ever anticipated, really. The whole crew was watching the race with baited breath. 

You were almost equally matched. With you, a real diamond in the rough, having received some training beforehand, and Lando, an experienced driver, essentially going in blind—it was a golden match.

Were you going to be able to do the unthinkable?

“We’re going into the penultimate lap, and even with Lando strategically using his batteries, Y/N has managed to close the gap to 0.7 with DRS. And there she is also clocking the fastest lap. Wow!”

“You can win a little bit of extra time in sector two,” Will analysed. “Turns 9 and 12 are crucial. You need a good exit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Does he?” Oscar cut in. “We’ve got track limits for Norris in turn 9! He’s getting desperate now, with Y/N coming for him at 0.6 seconds. Is she going to—yes! She’s attempting to overtake Norris ahead of turn 11 but… fails… Oh, that was a bold move by Y/N! She lost a bit of time with that one, but she’s still within DRS range and knows she will be able to get close again for another attack.”

Your knuckles were turning white from how tight you were gripping the steering wheel. You couldn’t make a mistake, not now. You were so close… On the other sim, Lando was in a similar state. Although he was clenching his jaw in concentration instead. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep you behind him.

“Final lap,” Oscar announced. “And Norris crosses the white lines again! Turn 3 this time. Yep, there it is. Second track limits for Norris. He is feeling the heat, and not the good kind.”

Jarv’s mouth twitched. “It’s been five years since Lando raced here, let’s use it to our advantage,” he spoke to you in a hushed tone.

You nodded, your eyes never wavering from the screen in front of you.

Jarv checked the data, both yours and Lando’s, then leaned in. “Okay, here’s what you’ll do: instead of following the race line at–”

Will was closely observing you and Jarv from the other side of the room, but he couldn’t make out what Jarv was saying over the sounds of the simulators’ engines and Oscar still commentating to his heart’s content. He looked down at his driver, who was fully focused on the task before him.

“And then use the charged batteries after exiting turn 13. I know Lando’s defending tactics, this should work. He won’t see it coming,” Jarv finished. 

You simply nodded again, trusting your engineer’s judgement. You would give it your all to try and execute his strategy as best you could.

“As we’re nearing the chequered flag, all bets are off. Lando is fighting for his position with everything he has, but Y/N is not ready to call it quits just yet!” 

Your heart rate was off the charts, but you managed to stay calm, hitting the apexes, the metres between you and Lando’s car in front dwindling with each passing second.

“0.5 seconds, 0.4 seconds…”

“Flat out, Y/N. Let’s go,” Jarv said, his own heart rate ticking up.

“She’s chasing him, with DRS… There she comes. There she comes… round the inside! Y/N overtakes Norris!” Oscar roared. “Diving into the infamous turn 14… and… and she makes it! Hell yeah! What a mega move from Y/N! Now into the final corner. Can she stay ahead of Norris? Can she…? Yes!! Yes, she can!”

You passed the chequered flag, your mouth falling open in shock.

“Y/N wins the Chinese Grand Prix!”

“OH MY GOD!!”

Jarv's laugh pierced the room. “Get in! I told you!”

He managed to stop himself just in time before he started jumping up and down like an overly excited little boy. You shared his enthusiasm though, unable to control the slight tremor in your hands at seeing your name next to the word WINNER displayed boldly on the screen in front of you. 

Holy fuck, you did it. You actually did it.

Lando sank low in his seat. “How the hell…”

Will patted him on the shoulder, consoling. “You did your best mate.”

“Clearly it wasn’t enough,” he grumbled.

Will glanced at their celebrating opponents, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Get your mind out of the gutter, mate, and look on the bright side.”

“Which is?”

“Your girlfriend just showed you the perfect overtake manoeuvre for Sunday.”

“Ha-ha, very funny…”

Although, you really did. 

Lando turned to see Jarv help you out of the simulator, still grinning from ear to ear. You were reeling, the adrenaline of the fight and win coursing through your veins. Suddenly you understood what it must feel like to come out of a real F1 car, and to stand on the podium, basking in that feeling of winning a race.

As soon as you were out, Jarv high-fived you. “Solid race. That’s some potential, that is.”

Oscar came up next. “Awesome job, Y/N. Seriously. Great overtake at the end there. Perhaps you’ll be my future teammate,” he winked.

You giggled. “Thanks, guys!”

Even Will smiled at you, giving you a thumbs up as you walked over to Lando who was still seated in the other sim, sulking.

“Oh, come on,” you pouted, reaching out your hand, a peace offering. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Sure thing, it was,” he muttered, but he accepted your hand anyway before jumping out of the car. 

When he stood in front of you, he took a moment to look you up and down, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. His ego may have taken quite the blow today, but there was no denying he was also extremely proud of you. Jarv had been right after all, and Lando was happy he hadn’t taken the engineer up on his bet.

He shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”

You shrugged, smiling. “Need to keep things fresh and exciting, don’t I? Otherwise you’ll tire of me in no time.”

“Never,” Lando scoffed, wrapping his arm around your waist and giving your lips a soft peck. “However, as much as I’m proud of you… this footage will never see the light of day.” 

You laughed, your eyes locking with Marion.

She sent you a wink. “We’ll see about that.”

***

a/n: thank you for reading <3 feedback is adored. 

by the way, should i make a taglist for future f1 fics? is that something you’d be interested in? or perhaps for specific drivers? let me know!

also posted on ao3

[thecapricunt1616]

Pink Pony Club (Richie Jerimovich one-shot)

♡ One-Shot Inspo: Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan "I'm up, and jaws are on the floor. Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door. Blacklights, and a mirrored disco ball Every night's another reason why I left it all" ♡ Summary: You're an Exotic Dancer / part time house mom at The Pink Pony, and end up falling for a man that is probably old enough to be your father. ♡ W/C: 2.9k ♡ Poste Date: 06/10/2024 ♡ A/N: Hello all! again, for the asks that are atp starting to mold in my inbox - imma get to you. This specific dirty old man in a suit has been making me feel things lately, so naturally I had to write some porn about it. Asks are still open even though I cant promise it'll be done snappy. Hope everyones week is off to a great start so far!! Tagged those who commented on the post saying this would be a good idea just so you could see how it came out, hope you like :) ♡ Warnings for BTC: Age gap relationships (R is in her mid-to-late 20's, mentions of sex work, Club environments, swearing, smut, rough sex (Richie likes to be slapped around sometimes, kay?) lowkey simp!Richie, no use of Y/N - pet names only, readers stage name is Pixie Polestar , unprotected sex, not edited, we die like men!

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had met Richie just about 2 months ago. It was safe to say, life had chewed him up and spit him out lately. 

If he was being honest with himself, the dating pool wasn’t exactly rich at 46 years old. He could count on almost two hands how long it had been since he got his dick up for more than just the binightly pornhub browser. 

That led him into the Pink Pony Club one fateful August night. You were working your usual shift, Pixie Polestar. You - unlike some of the other girls - really enjoyed your job. At least, the aspect of having fun on stage, doing cute, sexy little acrobat-like tricks on the pole while horny men paid you to take more of your clothes off?

Yes please. 

You weren’t a back room kind of girl, usually. That was because the amount of money you made from tricks on the pole was more than a lot of the girls you worked with made in a whole shift while you just worked the 45 minute trick-filled stage set then would give a few $400 lap dances depending on your mood, before skipping on home, taking a hot shower, and slipping in your silk sheets with your air conditioner turning your bedroom something akin to an ice box. 

That was how that night was supposed to go. 

How the night really went, was some loud borderline obnoxious man at least 15 years your senior, had found his way into the Pink Pony. He was wearing a pressed navy blue suit, that complimented his pretty blue eyes. That was the second thing you noticed about him while he loudly whistled for Krystal who was currently doing her set. 

You weren’t really supposed to be here anymore - well- you didn’t have to be here. You had found yourself a solution, a real career path if you will. But you enjoyed your time on the pole because it was art, and dancing was a confidence booster for you. In any regard, you were going to get older, you were going to pass your prime as the house mom was always telling you girls, so you needed another stream of income. 

Of course, being a … *eh-hem* - exotic dancer was the word you preferred, stripper just sounded trashy to you, did come with its negative stereotypes, one of which being no where will rent to you - because you had terrible credit. So, naturally, being the resourceful woman you are - you walked your happy ass to the open house of a for sale by owner showing, and told the nice realtor you’d take it. 

Boom. Done, you had a place to live in 3 weeks, when you closed on it. Then, it dawned on you. The other girls you worked with had the same issue you did. So, you found another house, saved another 25k for the amount to put down, and rented it to your coworkers. 

It was the perfect system, because you knew you’d get your rent. You knew exactly how much money each girl made because you watched them make it, you knew where they lived, and they had to look you in the eye every night. So it’s easy to say no one ever tried you. The only real reason you hung around The Pink Pony anymore was because you wanted to keep an eye on your girls and dancing was fun too. 

When he first laid eyes on you, it was something akin to a cartoon character when their pupils turn into hearts. It wasn’t too abnormal, you were one of the more bombshell-esc dancers at the club, and that isn’t to say that you outdid anyone it was all based on preference. Some men loved plain Jane’s, and the plain Jane’s were just as beautiful as any of the other girls, but the reaction of men basically tripping over their feet to try and come talk to you was more likely going to happen to you then anyone else.  

But he…didn’t come over, that was interesting to you. So, you being the master of customer service you were, took your drink and kept your eyes locked on his as you made your way across the room, and plopped right in his lap. “Never seen you here before sweetheart” your manicured hand found the back of his neck, gently caressing over his skin. 

He tried to play it cool, but your tits we’re basically in his face, he could smell your perfume perfectly, fuck he genuinely can’t believe that a girl so beautiful just sauntered over and sat in his fucking lap. Was he dreaming? He found his mind racing, and for once in his 46 years he was dumbfounded and couldn’t find anything to say. 

“Cat got your tongue honey?” You smirked a bit, gently cupping his stubbly cheek and rubbing your thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it gently before letting it snap back into place. He swallowed thickly, his hand resting on your bare thigh, just below the white glittery mesh coverup you were wearing. 

“I’m Richie.” He blurted out, his cheeks felt like they were on fucking fire, any blood that wasn’t rushing there was rushing to his cock and he found himself wondering when the last time he’d gotten hard so easy was. 

“Well hello Richie. I’m Pixie, what brings a handsome man like you in on a Friday night mm, no big plans?” You absentmindedly played with his chain, pretending to pay no mind to the long length that was hardening in the curve of your ass. All you would have to do is shuffle just a tiny bit and his cock would be nestled between your cheeks and the itty bitty powder pink g string that you wore beneath the tiny mesh piece of fabric that was basically for show and no use to cover anything. 

“I guess I was lookin’ f’some entertainment. Think I found it” he spread his legs more, causing you to sink further into his lap and his hand found the curve of your waist, his thumb rubbing little up and down strokes over the smooth skin. He never believed that the sheer triple x rated porn movie he was creating in his mind would become a reality that night but man did it. 

It was also his first night taking the dreaded viagra prescription his doctor had given him when he got real about his … shortcomings as of late. The man isn’t what he used to be stamina wise, okay? Nonetheless - he still rocked your shit - well, more like you rocked his. 

Who knew this foul mouthed, old school, borderline toxic masculinity-entrenched motherfucker would get so much pleasure from your palm coming across his cheek just hard enough it left a yummy sting and telling him “My eyes are up here you old pervert” as you bounced on his cock with a rhythm he couldn’t bring to the table himself anymore, and that in turn causing your tits to bounce like a fucking hentai film less then a foot from his face. 

Something about a younger girl calling him old and smacking him around all while using his cock to get herself off, babbling about how good he makes her feel made him more confident then he had been in years.

He often would find himself feeling a little pang of sadness after you started seeing eachother, in moments where you two were laughing a way he only ever did with Mikey before you came around, and making him feel like he was in fuckin’ High school again with how giddy he was to see you after every shift. All of it would just remind him how bad he wishes you could have met Mikey, and how bad he wishes he could tell Mikey. 

Richie knows, he would be so jealous, but in a brotherly way - that such a young hot piece of ass, a young smart, hot, funny, piece of ass was calling him daddy, told him he was ‘her mans’ whatever the fuck that meant. He assumed girls today call their boyfriends that, there were a lot of little phrases and lingo you had to explain to him and would always make fun of him for being old after doing so. 

He would tease you too, having some late 80s early 90’s radio station on (because the old head didn’t understand what streaming was) while he drove you around of course since he had learned from you that you were his ‘passenger princess’ and saying something like ‘oh babygirl this is before your time, this is from my day” before cranking up the radio and serenading you with Bad Girl by Madonna, belting it in such a silly, dramatic way between drags of his cigarette you couldn’t help but burst into giggles and kiss him at the next red. 

You had told him that when you used to do private dances that Like a Virgin was one of your favorite to dance to for the ‘older’ gentleman, he spanked you playfully when you said his crowd was older as he usually did, and of course later that night he had you perform for him and you ended up getting your back blown out to material girl since you had been streaming the song from your phone and didn’t care to find it and turn it off. 

When Tina had played it jokingly at family dinner one night, he couldn’t help the smirk that came to his lips at the memory. Funnily enough, she was the first person to find out about you. Of course, he didn’t divulge anything other than he was finally seeing someone consistently, nothing about your age or profession. Based on the way Tina had reacted with clapping and kissing his cheeks, gushing “I’m so proud of you papa! That’s so good, this is so good for you! You need to get out there more” he was reevaluating his social life or lack there of and telling himself he needed to get out more, which lucky for him you were young and bubbly so you could get him out of the house. 

The next person he told, he really told, was Carmy. Well- technically Syd too, but she just happened to overhear. 

“W-wait wait” Carmy pinched the bridge of his nose how he did when he was baffled and confused, brows knitting together as he shook his head. “Lemme- lemme just get this straight - y’datin a…..” 

“Ex-o-tic dancer, cousin. It’s 2024, fuckin hell. Women dance and get paid for it - no big deal.” He repeated, emphasizing each sound as if what he was explaining was the most casual thing in the world, which - you had explained to him it should be so he took that and ran with it. 

“You’re fucking…a stripper- a stripper that’s what they’re called when they dance naked -  and how old did you say she was?” Syd questions. 

“Hey- she leaves her panties on she’s only naked top up, and plus she doesn’t even have to anymore she does it for the art.” He points the spoon he was wiping down at Carmy “this new NOMA bullshit we’re doin’ here isn’t the only art, Cousin. Shes an artist” he dropped the spoon in the bucket with the rest of the pristine ones he’d worked on. 

“Sure- and she’s fuckin younger then me” Carmy replied. “She could be y’fuckin-“

“Yeah, yeah - whatever she could be my fuckin daughter where’s your girlfriend huh? I don’t see anyone linin’ up to fuck you. She’s nice, and into me - and - and she’s funny and smart. So see already 2 qualities named that I don’t see much of around here so excuse fuckin me f’wantin to be happy when I’m not in this shithole” he teased 

“So- this not even 30 year old, she is gonna be y’date to the thanksgiving friends and family night - the one your daughter and ex wife are attending - and you think that will be a good idea considering tiff’s track record with girls you bring around” Syd questioned. 

“Yup” was all he said before taking the now finished bin of spoons to be put away, glad for the conversation to have finally been over. 

He rehashed the whole conversation with you later that night as you slowly rolled your hips into his, your skin sticking to his, both of you covered with a thin layer of sweat. You had his hands pinned next to his head, fingers interlaced with yours, practically speaking into your mouth as you kissed him sloppy and open mouthed, obsessed with eachothers taste. You always tasted of bubblegum, a habit you’d carried with you since childhood, he always tasted of cigarettes, a habit he had carried since high school. 

“Baby with my job I’m used to people not understanding me - I didn’t expect your friends to like me. My job - it can make people uncomfortable. But fuck them. You know how we feel huh?” You picked up the speed of your hips, using the curly deep brown patch of hair at the base of his cock to cause the most delicious friction with each thrust on his cock as you chased your orgasm. 

“Ye’ fuck em baby- shit- so fuckin tight- all mine right?” He breathed, mouthing over the bruises he’d left on your breasts a few nights ago. That was one thing about your job he had a bit of difficulty getting past, but you assured him you had no feelings for any clients and that you weren’t doing lap dances anymore only your stage set and otherwise you were just there to be more of a second house mom. But still, he was a man after all. He was possessive, a little jealous sometimes. So he loved to hear that you were only his during moments like this. 

“Yes daddy- all yours. You own this- you own me” you kissed his hand before bringing it to your breast and then using his shoulders as leverage to bounce further up and down, the action causing his head to fall back and jaw to fall slack. 

“Just like that - god- fuck - holy shit baby- shit-shit- y’fuckin close? How fuckin long has it been?” He pinched your nipple lightly, causing your pussy to clench around him and a pornstar like whine to leave your lips 

“It’s been 15 minutes- Christ you’re like a teenager. Can’t even last 30 minutes?” You teased, leaning in and kissing his neck, biting and nibbling the skin as you circle your hips, essentially jutting the tip of his cock into your g spot and that floaty feeling sneaking up on you as you feel him shoot rope after rope of arousal, painting your pretty, gummy walls a milky white and his stomach muscles clenching at the overstimulation. 

The grunts and moans that left his lips when you got him here were some of the hottest noises you’d ever heard a man make before, you were always sure to file them away in a special little folder in your brain for a rainy day he wasn’t able to get you off himself. “Feel good daddy?” You asked sweetly, sitting up and resting your hands on his hips so you could look down and watch as your mixed arousals gush out of you and around him, thick strings breaking with each slow, purposeful roll of your hips 

“So fuckin good baby- Jesus gonna finish soon? Dunno how much more I can do” he said, voice breathy, blissed out, nearly whiny. 

“Mmhmm few more minutes daddy- god we’re so pretty, I bet we taste so good mm?” You swipe the pad your forefinger over your clit, gathering the sweet and bitter white, making a show of rubbing it over the hardened bud of your nipple “feels good, too, wanna tell me how it tastes?” You leaned in and he nearly groaned as he took your breast in his mouth, crystal like eyes seeding into your own gaze as he flicked his tongue gratefully around the sensitive nub. 

You whined hotly, the sight of your tit in his mouth mixed with the feeling of his pants huffing through his nose and fanning over the swollen flesh as his tongue swirled and licked and flicked and drove you over the edge. You cried out, hips stuttering as you rode out your orgasm. His hand found your heat, rubbing with scissored fingers over your clit and meeting around his cock before dragging his fingers back up to repeat the assault. 

The action had you gushing around him, the contractions of your heat getting stronger causing him to groan into your skin and that vibration just added more stimulation. “Fuck yes- god daddy- always make me feel so good, no one understands how good we make eachother feel hm? Nothing else matters, baby, as long as you feel good, right?” 

You pulled him in for a sloppy, hot, passionate kiss. A kiss that made his heart do flips, and his stomach flutter, and made him feel way lighter.

Richie thought to himself in that moment he may be falling in love again, and he was equal parts fucking terrified, and excited to see where things with you went. 

He just had to get over ripping off the very last bandaid, and then you could really be together -

And that bandaid was Tiff.

@aestheticaltcow - @myszie - @wtfsteveharrington

[toxycodone]

Hey Toxy! Sorry for the sudden radio silence on asks from me, but I got nasty icky sick.

Any quick thoughts on the Touden Party (post Falin being revived) with a gn!reader or fem!reader who got sick (stomach bug or flu is okay with me)?

Thank you again! Love your blog!

-Deer Anon. 🦌❤️

NOOOO OMG...im so sorry to hear that i hate. the flu. I had it in the beginning of this year and when I tell you I was DYING. ugh.

Laios

Probably the most visually affected. Literally says out loud "that's awful!!" when he hears you're sick. Bro is not having it

He's not squeamish, so he volunteers to check on you (along with Falin, theyre a duo).

He holds your hair back when you throw up. King

I think he spends a lot of time unintentionally fretting about you. Will you be okay? Getting sick is the worst. He just ultimately feels bad.

I think he tries to distract you by reading or trying to play games. The others have to keep him from you because he's so eager to just hang out and doesn't really think about the reality that hey. you have something infectious!!

Falin

She's genuinely an unbothered queen in the best way possible. Because she doesn't freak out or anything. Falin is just like "okay" and comes up with her game plan

She's good at nursing you back to health but she doesn't overdo it. Falin is really lowkey and honestly an excellent caretaker. She's the one monitoring your temperature and making sure you get enough fluids and she doesn't cringe when you vomit everywhere. Just frowns and gets to cleaning up.

She'll use her magic to help alleviate your symptoms before she goes <3

Marcille

Instantly freaks. Because ew germs and being sick but also like are you gonna be okay?? Marcille wants to like consult every medic in town before Falin reassures her its cool

Marcille makes the best herbal tea for you...since Falin has you covered with the magic, Marcille focuses on her home remedies and such.

SHE WOULD DO YOUR HAIR. It's an act of love. Usually people don't think about that but having icky hair when you're sick is the worst and Marcille won't have it.

Chilchuck

Oh I know he's immediately thinking of a lecture. He wants to go to you and tell you about how he told you so and you shouldn't have pushed yourself

But when he sees you he just sighs. You look terrible (affectionately) and he just feels super bad. Chil presses his hand to your forehead and tsks and immediately starts doing the mental checklist of what he'd do for his daughters when they were sick

He kinda chides you, but ultimately he settles to change your bedding when it gets too sweaty and make sure you're getting some sort of bath/shower.

He also does that dad thing where he comes into the room and just looks at you when you're sleeping to make sure you're good

Senshi

SENSHI THE GOAT IS MAKING AN IMMACULATE CHICKEN SOUP FROM BONE BROTH HE MADE PREVIOUSLY AND STORED. He is so real.

He doesn't pressure you to eat and just like, makes sure you're at least drinking the broth to get your strength up.

I also like to think he'd attempt to make the Orc medicine he learned while living with them too, just in case. Even small doses of that could hopefully get you feeling better.

But he's helping Chil with the sheets and washing dishes and such. Senshi also stays in the room with you when he has down time during the day and will read you pa

Izutsumi

Eh...do not expect much from her. But she assists the others in the background. Mainly by helping Senshi or Chilchuck take care of you.

She could probably tell you were sick like the day before and avoided you or mentioned you having a strange smell.

But when she hears you're sick she's like :/ "called it"

When no one else is there she "begrudgingly" sleeps at the foot of your bed. It helps you with the chills but also when you have a fever you're really warm

(She probably also gets sick then you have to help her out since its "your fault" hehe)

[moonshynecybin]

short fic! once again maïna got me.... her original post here, this one's like 800 words about marc hitching a ride from vale back to the pits... nebulously established relationship they are being very sweet !

“Are you trying to kill me?” Is what Vale says when Marc trots up to where he’s spectating on the side of the track, camped out like a king in some shady place where the crowds can’t get to him. He’s on his feet, hands on his hips and a frown on his face beneath his hat and sunglasses, staring Marc down as he approaches. He’s worried—he usually is, when Marc’s on the bike— but the crash wasn’t terrible, just a slide into the gravel. He shouldn’t be too mad.

Marc brushes some dust off of the ass of his leathers. The marshals are bustling around them, righting his bike and wheeling it past him and Vale. There’s no sense of urgency though, it’s too late in the session— that’s FP1 done for Marc, now he just needs to get back to the pits. Luckily, he knows a guy.

He flicks a gloved finger at Vale’s cheek, and Vale catches it, brings it to his mouth to kiss his hand, sweet and playful, a moment of connection just for them, letting Marc know he’s not actually mad. Marc can’t help but grin under his helmet.

“I’m okay.” He reassures, keeping his voice low, tilting his head a little. “I saw how lonely you were out here and just wanted to say hi.” He’s joking, but if he had to pick a place to crash, next to Vale isn’t the worst place in the world.

“Not funny,” Vale lets go of his hand to wave a finger in his face, eyebrows jumping, and Marc laughs, big and loud.

“No, it isn’t. I wanted P1.” It’s a bad joke— most of his are— but Vale smiles at him anyway, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses.

“P2 for you, I think, if you’re done trying to kill yourself.” Vale gestures at the scooter behind him. “You need a lift?

“You offering?”

“I mean you can walk, but that would be less fun for both of us, I think.” Vale says, swinging a leg over the scooter and rummaging for the keys.

“The Valentino Rossi taxi service.” Marc says, climbing onto the back as Vale buckles on his helmet. He leans forward until the enamel of their helmets makes contact, an affectionate bump. He decides to settle his hands on the familiar, narrow space of Vale’s hips, glove catching on the fabric of his shirt.

“For you? I charge double.”

“I can afford it, my husband’s rich.” Marc says, and is rewarded with a bark of a laugh from Valentino and an affectionate slap to his thigh as the ignition catches and they start to move.

Vale pulls away from the track and starts to maneuver towards the pits, scooter rumbling along. Marc closes his eyes, enjoying the ride and the solid weight of Vale in front of him, the way he can lean on him a little, torsos pressed tight. It’s not often he can loosen his control during a race weekend, and it’s nice to not have to focus for a few minutes— to let Vale unwind Marc in that way only he knows how. They don’t get too much alone time on days like these, and Marc lets himself get warm— basking between the sun on his back and the stretch of Valentino in front of him.

It’s over too soon.

“Thanks for the ride,” He says, when Vale slows to a stop in front of Honda’s pit area. He pulls of his helmet.

“Yeah— you be safe, eh?” Vale says, catching Marc’s elbow when he clambers off the scooter. Vale lifts a hand to thumb at Marc’s cheek, and Marc has to lean down to kiss him, soft and sweet, lingering. It’s not the best time for it —he has to get back to his box, there are probably thousands of cameras pointed at them right now, and he has about eight different ideas for the bike setup to iron out with Santi— but right now he doesn’t care. He kisses Vale again, hand on the column of his neck.

“I love you,” He says when he pulls back— he really does have things to do. He grabs his helmet and starts to move away. Vale smacks him on the ass as he goes.

“If you crash again, I will not drive you back next time!” Vale calls as Marc winds his way towards the Honda garage.

“Yes, you will!” Marc calls back, not even turning around. He’s grinning as he ducks around the corner.

And it’s true. It’s something he knows for certain— knowledge that’s sewed itself into his bones— as factual and immutable as the sky being blue, as the sun rising in the morning. If he falls, Vale will be there to catch him.

It’s as simple as that.

[exquisitesimp]

Comforting Akutagawa during a mental breakdown

A/N: Hello to everyone reading this! I’m back at it again with Bungo Stray Dogs, more particularly the Port Mafia. In this story, the reader (F) is giving comfort and affection to her emotionally damaged boyfriend Akutagawa, after an unfortunate encounter with his old mentor figure (aku was my first love in bsd). Thank you so much for reading and interacting with my posts, it means so much to me! Stay healthy, eat well and drink plenty of water! - Sam

Tags: Bungo Stray Dogs, Akutagawa Ryunosuke, angst, reverse comfort, SFW

Warnings: mental breakdown, emotional and physical abuse, NSSI

Word Count: approx. 4.8k

It was one of these nights again; these difficult, heart-wrenching nights that constantly made you question the meaning of such a life, a life filled with pain and suffering. You’ve become a little too familiar with this feeling since you’ve experienced, well… a little too many nights like these. 

“Remember what you’re doing all this for!” you exclaimed. 

Except there was nobody there to listen, save for the librarian that was sick of having you be the last one to leave the library in the dark hours of the early morning for the fifth time this week. Talking to the void, maybe all that studying did drive you insane after all. 

“You scared the life out of me, for the love of god!”, the lady gasped, jumping awake from the information desk. Poor her, she probably hated these nights even more than you did.

“I’m terribly sorry”, you said, chuckling in awful embarrassment.

She gave you a cold stare, which truthfully saddened you deep down, because you were under the false impression that you had bonded with the woman by now.

“Don’t look at me like that ma’am”, you said, “You know med school isn’t a piece of cake…”

“I know dear”, she responded with a certain sweetness in her voice and a tired sigh, “but isn’t it time to go home soon?”

You looked at the clock above the information desk. It read 2:45. A look of desperation channeled itself on your face as you were thinking about just how much more work you had ahead of you before you could allow yourself to go home and finally get some shuteye. 

“Just one more unit, I promise!” you lied, knowing damn well that it was much, much more than that.

“Pfftt….Like we haven’t heard that before…” the librarian mumbled as she began moving around all sorts of books and paper sheets around the information desk.

Of all the times during the day she could get that taken care of, she had to do it right now? The noise she made was getting on your nerves and messed with your focus. However, you knew she was going to kick you out for sure if you dared complain about it. So you just decided to let it go, for your own good perhaps…

Resting your head which had grown quite heavy and dizzy on top of the open books, you sighed in exhaustion, waiting for the woman to stop messing with the papers and your concentration along with them. Wondering how the hell you were supposed to pass all these exams the following week, you were just sitting there, beating yourself up for always leaving things for the last possible moment. But not even a minute later, your phone, which was laying on the table, suddenly buzzed and stopped your overthinking. 

It was a voice message from your boyfriend, a little smile subtly forming on your face upon seeing the notification. You’ve been together for almost a year, but the habit of smiling at his texts hasn't faded away whatsoever.

“Ma’am, can I pleeaase use my phone?”, you joked, since there was obviously nobody there to be disturbed by mobile phone usage… except for the poor lady of course. “It’s my sweetheart!”

A few moments of deadly silence followed. From the look on her face, you’d think she was finally done with your smart-ass idiocy. 

“Eh, to hell with it…” she responded, having accepted — to your grand surprise — that she’d have you here for quite a while once again.

“God bless your patience! I shall treat you to a huge meal once these detestable exams are over!”, you proclaimed in comedic exaggeration, yet genuinely wanting to express your gratitude to her in some sort of way. With your late-night hypertension and your endearingly annoying sense of humor, you could imagine that having you study here all these days must have been quite a handful. 

“Who said I wanted to have a meal with you?”, she shrugged and rolled her eyes. 

Purposefully ignoring her rhetorical question with a smile on your face, you opened the message and placed your phone next to your head with the speaker facing your ear, the woman sighing at your shenanigan in the background. 

“Hey, Y/N…” 

You didn’t expect to hear Gin’s voice. 

“Listen… I found my brother’s phone in a dark alley on the ground, and it’s all cracked up now, and I’m not quite sure what happened... He was still supposed to be here, but I assume there was some big trouble and he had to flee. Problem is— TACHIHARA CAN YOU JUST SHUT THE F— sorry about that… problem is I contacted our headquarters and he’s not there” 

Your eyes opened wide as the message kept on playing. Two opposing forces fighting in your brain; one worrying that something terrible has happened to him, the other trying to remain cool-headed since you didn’t know any crucial details about the situation.

“My guess would be that he’s at your place. I know you have a lot of work to do in the library, but please check if everything’s okay with him. Gotta go, the Armed Detective Agency is just around the corner”

You heard the words “Armed Detective Agency” and you instantly knew what this was about. 

“Oh fuck” you said out loud and stood up from your desk as if struck by some invisible thunder.

“What is it this time?”, the librarian desperately asked.

“It’s your lucky day”, you replied, packing up your bag in quick, messy movements, “I’ve got to go right now”

“Good grace”, she mumbled as she started switching off the lights to finally close the place down for the night.

“Thanks for everything!”, you shouted hurriedly, storming out of the university library and rushing to the parking lot.

You jumped in your car and immediately started the engine. You already knew by now that no encounter with the Agency could possibly be any good for Akutagawa. And this time, you had a strong feeling that something was very, very wrong.

In less than half the time it would usually take, you sloppily drove back to your apartment, very lucky that you hadn’t crushed the car onto anything on the way there. Running with light steps and pushing through your own fatigue, you finally reached the door and knocked on it.

“Sweetie?”, you called out softly. 

There was complete silence on the other side, a type of silence that grew an unshakeable fear within you. After taking a deep breath, you reached for the keys in the pocket of your jacket and slowly opened the door.

You took a good look at the living room before entering, and everything was exactly the way you left it, including the little lamp you always kept switched on even when nobody was home. From where you were standing, nothing seemed wrong with the kitchen either. At first glance it all looked perfectly normal, but there was something very intuitively suspicious about this quietness that consumed the entire place. 

Due to your intensive studying at the library the past few days, you ended up coming home at times like these almost every day, and you found the emptiness to be serene, and even comforting in its own way. But now it was frantically maddening, as if you’d be crazy to assume someone else was here, but equally as insane to think that you were totally alone.

You gulped as you took a few steps in and closed the door behind you, cold shivers running down your body. Only while taking off your own shoes did you look down to check if his were there, and much to your relief, they were just beside the door. You immediately felt a weight fall off your shoulders, knowing now that nobody had broken in or that you weren’t… imagining things.

You quietly made your way right in front of the shut door of your bedroom, and since you already passed by the empty bathroom, you knew that was the only place where he could possibly be. Just by standing there you felt a dark chilly aura strike you down to the bone. 

Knowing about his occupation and even his abusive past, you were already aware that Akutagawa was very much capable of becoming violent. But this wasn’t the first time he went through a crisis like this with you, so you had faith that if you stood there for him once again, it would all work out, just like the previous times.

You plucked up all the courage you had inside you and knocked on the door. 

“Sweetie?”, you repeated. “Are you alright?”  

Once again, no answer. At this point you started getting worried. That was the only place he could be, right? Then why was he not responding?

Making the tiniest amount of sound possible, you pushed the door open ever so slightly to peek through the crack, and that’s when you saw something you’ve never witnessed before.

Although the light switch was on, the room was pitch black with only a few strands of light somehow making their way through. Sinister branches of darkness were spread all over, some intertwined with one another in an infernal veil, and others ruthlessly piercing the entirety of the space like enormous, sharp blades. 

You were completely astounded. You had no idea that Rashoumon could take on such a petrifying form.

Before you could even begin to grasp the density and the complexity of what your eyes just viewed, the door was somehow explosively shut inches away from your face, causing you to gasp at the thunderous noise.

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT THE DOOR?”, Akutagawa yelled, his strung out voice echoing within his ability’s construction. 

“I’m sorry sweetie”, you responded peacefully, “I just wanted to check if you’re okay…”

“What does this look like to you?” he asked sarcastically, while Rashoumon locked the door from the inside, eliminating any possibility that he’d just let you in that easily.

“What I meant is, are you physically okay? Did you get hurt?”, you asked, trying to maintain your calm composure.

“I’m intact”, he answered as if even such a small question was so immensely bothersome to him at that moment, “now LEAVE. ME. ALONE!”

“How am I supposed to leave you alone in a state like this?”

He didn’t respond, but it’s not like you expected him to. Hurt and afraid, he always hid inside his hard shell at times like this, and it took a lot of strength and effort to get him to open up to you. You took a big breath, because the difficult part was just starting. 

“Your sister found your phone somewhere in the city and contacted me…”, you began.

“I don’t wanna talk about this…” he growled as rage kept building up within him.

“I know it’s difficult to talk right no—“

“THEN CUT IT OUT”, he screamed with a trembling voice and paused for a second, “before I break the door…”

“You don’t have to talk about it right now, but please just listen”.

You paused for a while to see what his reaction would be. Although he was once again mute, you were quite happy that you didn’t get smashed by the door; it meant he was waiting for you to speak.

“I know you’re not feeling well right now, and I just want to let you know that it’s totally okay to feel this way, even though I don’t know what exactly happened… I just wanted to tell you…”.

Another silence-filled pause ensured you that he was still listening.

“You did the right thing to come here, sweetie… The fact that you’re here right now means that even if you want me to leave you alone this instant, some part of you wants to find comfort here… And that’s exactly what I want to do for you right now. I just want to make it better, I promise. Please, Aku…Let me help you…” 

No response.

“I’ll be waiting right behind the door for as long as you need. Please don’t break me along with it, or better yet, let me in whenever you feel like…”

It wasn’t much later that you heard the door finally unlock behind you, so you stood up, carefully opened it, and saw that your previously unimaginably ominous room was now just the way you remembered it.

Akutagawa was sitting on the floor in the corner across the room, curled up so he could take up as little space as possible. He had wrapped his arms around his knees and held them closely against his chest. His cloak was thrown over his shoulders, covering most of his upper body and his head was buried on his forearms.

You quietly approached him and sat next to him to keep him at ease. All these months in a relationship with him taught you that at times like these, he felt threatened by people sitting right opposite him, and didn't respond to them so well. He also deeply despised being looked at when he’s in such a vulnerable state, so you respected his wishes and looked at the floor, avoiding his eyes at all costs.

“Take your time, sweetie. I’m here to listen”, you said after a minute or two. 

He took a big breath before lifting his head up, while you made sure to make him feel as comfortable as you could, based on his own individual terms.

“The Command Unit was sent to the center of Yokohama to investigate some strange movements in the black market… and there, I ran into that stupid weretiger...”

“Mhm hm”, you nodded as you kept listening carefully.

“We started a fight and I had cornered him in this alley… that was all until he showed up…”

“Dazai?”, you asked, just to make sure your assumptions were correct.

“Yes…” , he answered as his voice got weaker. “He nullified my ability and told the weretiger to leave, so it was just the two of us…”

You noticed it was getting harder and harder for him to speak as the conversation shifted towards Dazai. It was no surprise since he’d talked to you about him before but it was, nonetheless, upsetting to hear.

“No…”, you said, “and what did he do?”

“Well, he…”, Akutagawa said and then paused as if to collect himself, “he kicked me right below the chest and I was on the ground coughing…”

He took a breath, before proceeding to give you the rest of the story.

“And he said some things… something about the weretiger being better than me… but I’ve heard that before…”

“Aw sweetie—“

“He knows…”, he said, burying his head on his knees once again. “He found out about my disease somehow…”

When you heard him quietly weep, you moved a little closer to him, just enough so that he didn’t feel alone in this difficult, doleful moment. Before you could even begin to ask how Dazai managed to find that out, Akutagawa jumped into your arms and buried his head on your shoulder, letting his black cloak fall off his frail body.

As he did that, you didn’t fail to notice that his white shirt had bloody stains on each sleeve, a little bit above the length of the elbow. Both sides had five holes each, one for each of his own fingers that had been digging into his skin, scratching and ripping it apart.

You were so upset, but you realized that it would be no good to address it right now. So instead, you wrapped him up in the warm embrace that he desperately needed at the time.

“That lung disease you have is going to kill you soon… Maybe then, I’ll consider coming back to the Port Mafia… Such a shame that… even when you leave your last pathetic breath… there won’t have been a single moment… when you were better than my new apprentice…” 

“That’s what he said to me…”, he uttered, sobbing in between these nasty, horrible phrases. 

Your eyes started watering as you squeezed him tighter against you. It was beyond you how anybody could be so viciously cruel to someone so loyal and devoted, even if fate brought it so that they parted ways.

“That’s so hurtful…”, you whispered as tears were running down your cheeks. “It’s okay… Let it all out, I’m right here…”

“Why? Just why?!”, he cried in anguish, “How much more must I do? When will all this be over? When will I ever be enough?!”

You didn’t know how to respond to such questions at times like these, so you just let him lash out until he hopefully calmed down eventually. 

“What am I saying? That’s never gonna happen…”, he lamented as his body started shivering, “I’m so sorry, Y/N… I’m a worthless and pathetic fool…”

“That’s not true…please stop saying things like that…”, you pleaded.

“I’m just gonna die so pointlessly… And it won’t even matter to him…”

“Well it’s gonna matter to me!”, you raised the tone of your voice, verklempt and teary-eyed.

His chest kept pumping against yours as he was struggling for breath. 

“I’m so sorry my love…”, you apologized, fearing that all you just did was worsen his situation by letting your own emotions take over. He tried to say something, but in this state, coherent words couldn’t come out of his mouth.

You had to stay strong and help him during this difficult time. Right now, the situation wasn't about you.

“Listen to me, let’s take some deep breaths okay? Breathe in till four, hold till four, and breathe out till six. Can you do that for me?”

You felt him nodding yes, lifting his head up and letting his chin rest on your shoulder. 

“Perfect, I’ll count: 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…”

Akutagawa tried to follow your count as much as he could. You had to do this exercise about fifteen times before his breathing took its normal pace back. Your hand was always gently caressing the back of his head, and with every round you completed, you made sure that he knew he was doing a good job. 

“I’m so proud of you”, you murmured and kissed his temple, “are you feeling any better now?”.

He nodded yes and sniffed his nose.

“Can I look at you?”, you asked.

He sighed, then nodded yes once again. Once he let go, you gently cupped his face and lifted his head up so you could look at him. His poor, restless eyes were ever so red and puffy from all the tears he’d been shedding.

“My sweet Aku…”, you whispered, “if only there was something I could do to take your suffering away… I can only imagine how terrible it feels to be treated so horribly by someone you look up to so much, to always feel like you’re the second option…”

You paused to take a big breath and collect yourself. 

“And I know it’s not the same to hear it from me… but you’re always going to be my first choice… always…” 

A sad, bitter smile morphed into your boyfriend’s face upon hearing these words, as if they were half-empty, not coming from a certain someone he’d want to hear them from instead.

“I’ll always be here for you… You’re my everything, my love… I love you more than anyone and anything in this world… And seeing you suffer like this… it crushes me…”

Akutagawa sat there in silence, guiltful and grey, shifting his gaze to the cold, hard floor. 

“Especially this…” you said with a cracking voice, and looked at the red stains on his sleeves, “this just… it breaks my heart…”

His withering eyes were filling up with tears again. 

“Promise me you won’t do it again…please…”, you begged.

“I promise…I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry sweetie, none of this makes you weak in my eyes…. You’re so strong… so much more than you think…”

You looked at him sweetly before pulling him closer to give him a soft kiss on the mouth, his lips passive, almost motionless against yours.

“Now go have a warm shower, you need to relax”, you said, getting up from the floor and offering him a helping hand to stand up as well. “Make sure that a lot of water runs over your wounds. I’ll take care of them once you’re done, okay?”

“Okay”, he answered, giving you his hand, letting you pull him up and still hold him all the way to the bathroom. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N… really…” 

“Don’t mention it”, you responded lovingly.

As he shut the door behind him, you immediately got this morbid feeling, this insurmountable urge to break down and cry. 

You loved him with all your heart, but in comparison to even the tiniest praise from Dazai, your love for Akutagawa didn’t matter nearly as much to him. And that thought pained you so much, it cut deeper than a knife… In a way, you could even say you understood him, knowing that your one and only was gonna leave you soon, and that you’ll always come second, till the last moment… till his last moment, his very last breath…

It was all so devastating… But as you pushed the tears back, you remembered the promise that you made to yourself when you first got into a relationship with him; no matter how hard things got, you were gonna love this person as much as you could, for as long as you could… Until the very end, you had to be his pillar of strength and continue cherishing him no matter how much it hurt you in the process. 

And you loved him so much, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Hey Gin”, you spoke to your phone as you recorded a voice message for her, “I found him, he was at my place. He’s okay, he has a few surface wounds on his arms, most probably nothing to worry about. You can let your boss and the others know that he’s safe and that he’ll stay here for the next couple of hours… And, by the way, thank you for contacting me as soon as you found his phone….Things might’ve been worse, had it not been for you… Call me if you need anything”

As you hit “send”, Akutagawa walked out of the bathroom, wearing an oversized white t-shirt and plaid black and white pajama bottoms, with the towel he used to dry his hair thrown around his neck.

“Feeling more comfortable now?” you asked. 

“Yeah”, he responded.

“Good. Now come here, let me see your arms…”

He made his way next to you, letting you investigate his wounds.

“Hmm…”, you said, lost in thought, “they’re not as deep, so you’re not gonna need any stitches… but they do look a bit inflamed… we definitely need to disinfect these”

You took him by the hand back in the bathroom again, where you kept your medical kit. You grabbed the disinfectant bottle and lathered some liquid over a big piece of sterile cotton. 

“I gotta warn you sweetie, this might burn a little…”

“Yeah, like I haven’t had worse– OWW!!”, he exclaimed as you pressed it against his wounds.

“I’m sorry, perhaps I wouldn’t have to do this if you hadn’t used your own hands. You were out fighting, who knows how many germs they had…”

“It burns…”, he hissed, clenching his jaw.

“Warned you…”, you responded. “You’ve never used disinfectant before?”

“Do you really think people in the mafia care to use this sh– AUGHH!”, he snarled once again as you repeated the same treatment to his other arm. 

“We’re almost done now…” you reassured him as he gave you the most displeased, irritated stare.

“Hmm let’s see…” you mumbled to yourself while searching the contents of your kit, “I don’t have big enough band-aids for this… guess we’ll have to cover them with something else…”

You opened up two bandages, and with a little hesitation, Akutagawa let you wrap them around his arms tightly.

“All patched up!” you said, giving his boney shoulders a light squeeze, “Is there anything I can make for you? Anything to eat? Some tea maybe?”

“No, I think I’m gonna throw up if I do…”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that… Okay then, I think we should go to bed and get some rest, no?”

“Yeah…”

After you changed into your pajamas and brushed your teeth, you made your way into the fluffy futon and scooched over for Akutagawa to join you shortly after. While he is generally the quiet type, this time you could tell that he was way too tired even for the short-lived, yet endearing small talk before bed. 

“My eyes hurt…” Akutagawa murmured as he slid next to you.

“I know, sweetie…Come here…”, you said, lifting up the cover and inviting him close to you.

Your boyfriend found his way into your arms again, his tired head buried in your chest and his thinned body clinging onto yours, the entirety of his being searching for warmth within your embrace. The comforting motions of your hands caressing his back and the sound of your heartbeat was everything he could ask for at the time.

“Feels like you’ve lost more weight…”, you pointed out as you grazed your fingers over the prominent parts of his skeleton, “Have you been eating well lately?”

“Mm-mm”, he shook his head no after a short pause, as if to adjust his thinking to your own standards of self-preservation. To him, if he made it out alive at the end, what was there to care for?

“Well that’s no good…I’m making you fluffy pancakes and your favorite tea in the morning”, you said knowing that, being starved of affection almost his entire life, he found these simple acts of kindness to be a huge deal. His contentment was clear as day, flowing through you as he pulled himself closer, practically sealing shut whatever space there was between the two of you.

“Thank you…”, he purred against your chest, the mere sweetness of his adorable reaction leading you to plant gentle kisses on the top of his head.

“Anything for you sweetie… I just want you to take care of yourself. Undereating can’t do any good to your condition… And I want to keep you around as much as possible, make as many happy memories together as we can…Like that time when you took me to dinner with the mafia for the first time and Higuchi kept warning me not to hurt your feelings or ‘I’ll be dead’...”

“Tsk, that piss-off…” he mumbled in a mix of displeasure and nostalgia, getting annoyed just by remembering the event, but being strangely happy that he got to experience it with you. 

“It made me very happy that you apologized to her…”

“After you told me I was acting just like him, I had no choice…”

“And I’m so proud of you for that, sweetie…” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair

“I still remember when we had Gin and Chuuya over for my birthday and we played that drinking game he had suggested. I’m pretty sure at some point he stopped caring about the rules and started losing on purpose…Ah, what an iconic day…Oh, and that day when I first told you that I loved you…Hahah, you were so awkward whenever I told you that on the phone. It took you a couple of weeks before you were brave enough to say it back to me... But it’s okay, I’m not blaming you, it’s most wise to wait for the time when you are a hundred percent sure that you feel the same way for me… Hey, what about the day of our first date–”

You’d been talking for quite a while now, vocally walking down memory lane, too absent-minded to notice that Akutagawa was fast asleep by then. Your melancholic monologue got softly interrupted by his faint, quiet snores. 

“Aww of course. I almost forgot how easily you fall asleep whenever I start rambling like this…”

You slid your hands under his shirt and felt the soft skin on his back. His hold on you was more relaxed, but far from apathetic, as if what remained of his slowly melting tension was love, and only love. 

You smiled, feeling infinitely blessed that your boyfriend was there with you, that you were listening to his slow breathing as he was drifting somewhere far away. Your eyelids had been feeling heavy for a while, but before you joined him, you wanted to get some things off your chest; somethings you truly wanted Akutagawa to know, even though you knew that he wouldn’t hear much of it in his sleep.

“Aku, my sweetheart… You are worth so much more than you think. You are enough— no, you’re even more than that… And I wish I had the means to show you just how much you mean to me… Oh, if only I could make you feel even half of my love…”

A/N: Akutagawa cried again in the middle of the night, but didn’t want to bother Y/N with his feelings any further. He removed the bandages because anything that reminded him of Dazai, he couldn’t have on his body. After Y/N found out, she apologised for her ignorance and made him the most delicious fluffy pancakes.

[batsplat]

welcome back casey stoner !

https://www.tumblr.com/verdemint/761549873456775168/same-interview-they-asked-him-how-does-he-deal

(link)

asjddkh SEE this is what I'm talking about!! something about those incredibly neurotic ducati champions, eh. in the post linked above, pecco's talking about how he deals with media pressure... which, yeah, pecco and casey really do share a fair bit of competitive dna there - from the insistence that it doesn't affect them whatsoever to how they do in fact get extremely pissy whenever they feel misrepresented by the media. very sensitive to that kind of thing, those two are... but at the same time they're also both their own harshest critics. from casey's autobiography (all quickly nabbed from this post, which ofc expands on casey's perfectionism):

I got a lot of criticism over the years for being honest because I always felt I could do better. Even if I won the race, if I had made mistakes it was important for me to admit them and address them for next time instead of congratulating myself for being the best on that particular day.

and:

Whatever challenges I take on now I am still driven by the same quest to improve - I can’t change who I am. As a personality trait this is both a good thing and a bad thing. I like that part of me but it would be nice to not be like that sometimes, to enjoy something without being obsessed with getting better at it. I am sure you can go through life a lot happier if you don’t analyse everything.

versus pecco:

The strength that I've proved in various situations comes from the fact that I am extremely critical of myself, and so it only takes a little bit for me to put myself down even more.

like yeah I suppose that's one way of looking at it - nobody else can get to you if you're already tearing into yourself. it's a motivational process that's very much built on negativity, right, on the need to live up to their own exacting standards. both pride themselves for their ability to put failures behind them quickly - to be able to immediately bounce back because they tell themselves they only care about doing better in the next race. plus, there's that interesting dynamic where both are like... pretty big on this idea they're not making excuses for themselves, committed to honestly assessing themselves and all that,, BUT also have reputations for being whiny to the press... because people for whatever reason end up thinking they're constantly blaming everything but themselves for their shortcomings. again, very prone to feeling misunderstood!! neither of them are necessarily terrible communicators - but there's a certain reluctance there (obviously more so from casey) to even play that game at all. mix in a learned wariness because they feel like they've been burned before.... that whole pecco episode last year where he said one reason for the increased injury rate is probably because the field is tighter now (which, yes! seems logical!) ,,, and then some unholy combination of clumsy phrasing, media framing and an ungenerous fan response ended up translating that to pecco saying he wanted satellite bikes to be slower again... gave me real casey vibes lol. casey had a fair few of those episodes himself - though at least the news cycle and social media fandom weren't quite as bad back then. in a lot of ways he'd struggle even more nowadays

also,, you do have to mention - they both end up defining themselves against valentino specifically when it comes to their public personas. casey might be the rival and pecco the mentee, but both of them have been clear that they do not desire to be the next valentino rossi. kinda what I said here, right

idk, obviously pecco had a heads-up a little earlier than casey did that sensibly communicating to the media WAS going to be a big part of the job. but there's still a wariness there, an unwillingness to be something they're not, knowing that they'd be miserable trying to match valentino's particular brand of flamboyance... it is key that it is a choice they're making. they just don't want that for themselves, never have. there's only ever so much outreach they're willing to do

also this

“Stoner and Bagnaia are two different riders, but they have the same mental attitude,” Tardozzi told AS. “I think Pecco is still growing. He already took a big leap by winning the championship, but the biggest jump in his head has been done this year, after the two falls in Argentina and Austin. “He is an intelligent boy and has spoken a lot with the team, and what happened has made him take another step to make him even more of a champion. Now he has the right mentality. Pecco will become one of the greats. Right now it is showing that he is growing, as I told you before."

'resilience' is I think a word I associate quite strongly with both of them. they take their fair share of punches, do tend to get called mentally fragile a lot - but in truth there's a steel there that serves them well. did talk a little bit about the similarities of their motivational processes here too:

and

and one other thing I've been thinking about is that this... y'know, use of spite, of self-criticism, of how annoyed they get at others' criticisms - for both of them, it is also paired with a determined refusal to countenance they could be mentally affected by anything. with casey in particular, it's a bit of an overcorrection in response to how often he was described as mentally weak; it's understandable you might get extremely sensitive about the whole thing, if you weren't already. a lot of it is also stubbornness... a bone-deep contrarianism that immediately makes them push back if somebody suggests they might struggle for any reason related to psychology. where this really jumps out is how they talk about their rivals. obviously, nobody is going to say that their opponent's mind games work on them because that'd be deeply stupid to admit - but there is something about pecco's firm insistence marc's mind games don't have a hope of working on him that is really reminiscent of how casey has talked about valentino. it's that dynamic of ,, well, they're not wrong in that they're stronger than people give them credit for, but obviously they are also. like. extremely defensive, past the point of necessarily being reasonable. sometimes, what your rival does will affect you. that's kinda how rivalries work lol. but both of them are very committed to this narrative that their working process is super self-directed. casey's whole thing about how he's never gotten obsessed with rivals, pecco's 'we work in silence' schtick... it comes back round to the relationship with the media, right, where they have a natural inclination towards framing that as an oppositional dynamic - and automatically chafe against any narratives that might be externally imposed on them. actually, you see, rivals don't affect their performance at all, they don't need to constantly slobber to the press to hype up their performances, they'll do their talking on-track... but the unspoken truth there is that all of those things do matter, they are paying a lot of attention - and in the end, 'proving a point' to someone becomes a central part of the motivational process. they hear all the criticisms, they seethe in 'silence' (often involves a fair bit of public complaining but let's allow it), and then they determinedly show how all their critics were fools and losers. rinse and repeat

anyway yeah apparently that's part of the ducati magic - a dash of neuroticism, a heavy dose of self-flagellation, inject a desire for authenticity that might at times read as whiny, stir in the makings of a persecution complex and top it off with a sprinkling of spite. probably not the easiest type of guy to handle, but clearly there's something to the formula. a compelling approach to be sure

[postive-rainworld-anarchy-conf]

i’ve been waiting for people to realize azriel was a terrible person since last december. he reblogged a callout post (full of false accusations about zoophillia and stuff, as per usual) and then just DUMPED this huge rant about how incest fanfiction made him think it was okay to kiss his brother when he was 14.

no i’m not joking. obviously i can’t put a link here but: tumblr dot com / azrielfiend / 737002511661187072/tws-for-a-much-of-stuff-im-reblogging-again-but

just remove the dots and spaces and it’ll take you to the post, but in case you don’t want to, a DIRECT QUOTE from it is: “proshipping influenced me SO much that i almost (romantically and unconsensually) kissed my brother on the lips before my dad stopped me. speaking of my dad, i had intrusive thoughts about him and having crushes on him too.”

it just goes to show that this guy is fr not okay. even at 14, all the incest fanfiction in the WORLD could make me EVER make me think that incest is okay?? you couldn’t waterboard that info out of me either idk why he just randomly decided to dump that shit on some post like that (probably for pity points and to get attention…)

looking at it, and btw for anyone that doesn't know, you HAVE TO make your stuff screenreader accessible, not just because someone else might need it, but because if you ever need it for whatever reason, even for a bit (like after an eye surgery) it sucks to not be able to read what you've written.

especially when in tags, it makes it worse since people who wish to avoid those things can't when you do stuff like put zeros instead of an O, or a 4 instead of an r.

this is just a massive pet peeve of mine, but I read stuff like this and wonder why they are even censoring it like that?

read it and uh.

no yeah, no. ok no what I see what you mean, holy fuck. I mean way to sacrifice yourself to make a point there but damn.

"that sentence is also ableist because it assumes everyone can just tell it apart easily and youre dumb for not being able to."

uh, eh, ah. ok, I mean like. ok???? in that case, don't read it??? what

"i cant rest easy knowing proshippers would influenced kids like how they influeneced me in the past. its haunting, if you say this isnt harmful. then youre surely mistaken. im done. do not argue me on this im just so upset people are defending moonstone."

I think this just you, honestly???

I'm sorry but what the fuck did I just read

huh. that sure was a take & the half

I don't think this was developed because you were in the proshipping community, I just think you had incestuous thoughts about your brother and father? and then tried rationalizing why you did that as being convinced to do so because of proshipping. (even though most proshippers, not all, but most will tell you to not fuck your family, and instead read stuff about it instead or something) instead of realizing that maybe you just wanted to kiss your brother and were looking for an excuse.

this is all on you probably?

like you don't just get thoughts like that from outside sources. that comes from you.

but also at the same time, I don't know the situation, so who knows.

like it's fine to have incestuous thoughts and all, alot of people do. but the problem is acting on them... especially when it's non-consensual...

you have to work through them, not work for them.

well that was interesting

[analogwriting]

Childhood Crush

Chapter 14: Magnesium

Killer x gn!reader word count: 3.3k a/n: ayeo fuck kese amirite???? this isn't the chapter i was crying over btw also i definitely have this queued to post at like 2am bc i feel like that's my brand so i'm deffo passed out rn cause i open LMFAO next

Dead? He told everyone you were dead? Now you were even more confused than before. Why the hell would he say something like that? It only drove the question more - why the hell did he want you out of the picture? Is that why Eustass seemed to go off the deep end? Cause his level of recklessness did just suddenly spike out of nowhere. Was that when he received the false news? 

Your head was spinning but you had to focus on the task at hand. While you were running, you felt something land on your shoulder and you stopped. It was a bird - not any bird, but Myra’s bird. One she sent when she had urgent news. You couldn’t help but be nervous.

You untied the letter attached to its foot, opening it carefully and reading it. As the words sunk in, you started laughing. Was she fucking joking? “C’mon, My. You could’ve told me that from the beginning.” 

Dear y/n,

I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you this in person - I just didn’t know how. So, I set up a fake mission to get you to find your brother. You always seemed hesitant to leave our island - to leave Lily and I, so I figured this was the only way to get you to reunite with him. I knew you would keep putting it off, claiming that you needed to get stronger. I hope you forgive me for lying to you.

There is no flower that we need for a breakthrough - there’s nothing in Wano that we need. I just knew your brother was there and knew you were missing him. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

My sincerest apologies,

Myra.

At the very bottom was Lily’s name written as well. You were sure she just wanted to feel included. You smiled fondly at the letter. “Oh, My. I could never be mad at you.” You pulled a pen pad and pen out of your pocket, writing a quick response before sending the bird off again. Impressive it was able to find you in all this chaos, honestly.

You made sure to let her know you weren’t mad and thanked her for everything. The whole thing was just hysterical. Myra was terrible at talking about feelings of any kind. A lot of people claimed she couldn’t feel normal emotions like a normal human, but she just couldn’t express them. She was rigid and came off cold, but you knew better. She had her own way of caring.

Obviously. She arranged a whole fake mission just to reunite you with your brother. You tucked away the letter, knowing you’d probably end up just keeping it. A keepsake along with the knife. Huh, maybe you were getting sentimental. Eh, whatever.

Well, now what? You spend a considerable amount of time looking for this damn flower that didn’t exist. And your brother is probably long gone from the place that he was at. 

You suddenly felt something jump on to you from up above, yelping as you tumbled to the ground with whatever it was. After a moment of rolling around and a few scrapes with something sharp, you pinned it to the ground.

“Dive!?” Your eyes widened as you saw the small woman struggling against your grip. “Get fucking off of me!” She cried. Confusion took over your features. “Dive! It’s me!” 

“No, it can’t be! You’re dead!” She eventually stopped struggling. That’s when you noticed her lip quivering and the tears in her eyes. “Who are you and why do you have their face?” 

You stared at her for a long moment, processing. Right. Kese told all of them that you were dead. You let out a small sigh, sitting back and letting her go. “It’s me, Dive. I don’t know why Kese told everyone I died.” She sniffled, glaring at you.

“I don’t believe you.” She slowly sat up, wincing. You noticed a cut on her arm. “Here, let me tend to it.” You reached out and she pulled away suddenly, seemingly to distrust you. You frowned. 

“Dive. I promise you. It’s me.” You tried to think of something to help your case, then you remembered. You lifted up your pant leg, showing her a clear bite mark scar. “When we met, I startled you so bad that you bit the shit out of me. I couldn’t walk right for a week.”

Dive’s eyes widened and tears started falling. “It really is you!” She threw herself into your arms as she sobbed, burying her face in your chest. You held her there, comforting her. Fuck, why did Kese do this? What the hell was his angle? 

After Dive calmed down enough, she pulled away. “So, are you coming back with us?” A soft smile spreads across your face and you nod. “Of course.” She grinned widely. “Good. Everyone is going to be so fucking happy you’re alive.”

You stood up with Dive, looking around. “I heard the captain is fighting Big Mom with that other pirate captain - we should go find them!” She pulled you down the hallway and you followed behind her. 

“Dive?” The both of you stop as you see Heat and Wire coming out of one of the many hallways that seemed to be in this maze of a place. They both tensed when they saw you. “Dive…get away from them.” You groaned, rolling your eyes. This was getting old fast. Sure, you understood why everyone was cautious but you were getting annoyed and honestly you couldn’t wait to kick some ass. Well, specifically Kese’s ass.

“No! It’s really them! The-”

“For all we know, they could be some kind of devil fruit user.”

You looked at Wire as he spoke, thinking for a moment. “Remember when we were kids? There was the snapping turtle incident? You know? The one where it bi-”

They were both over in moments, covering your mouth with their hands. “Okay! Okay!” You couldn’t help but start cackling behind their hands. They let you go, staring at you for a moment. They took you in and you sighed. “You’re making me uncomfortable,” you grumbled.

You suddenly felt them both wrap their arms around you and you yelped, almost taking a tumble to the ground, but catching yourself at the last moment. You patted their backs, keeping your own tears back. Mostly because you just missed the shit out of everyone. Besides, you knew these two for such a long time and now seeing them after being gone…

“Alright, alright,” you said, sniffling and pulling away from them. Now wasn’t the time to be sentimental - there was a wholeass war going on.

“We don’t understand…” Heat said, shaking his head. “Why would Kese tell everyone you’re dead?” Wire was just as confused. You shook your own head. “That’s what I’m going to try to figure out.” You sighed, putting your hands on your hips. You supposed you understood getting you off the ship…actually…no you fucking didn’t. Why has he been out to get you since the fucking get go?

“When the captain received that letter…” Wire frowned. You blinked. “Letter? What letter?” He looked at you. “Kese gave it to him. Apparently there was a letter sent by the lab you were at, saying that you had died on a mission. It included some newspaper clipping as well. There was a picture of you and everything.” 

Your eyes widened. A picture? How the fuck did he pull that off? Why was he going through such lengths to do such a thing? Nothing was making any fucking sense. 

“The captain went on a rampage after that,” Dive chimed in with a frown. “That’s when he ended up fighting Shanks. Shanks had tried to stop his rampage and the captain lashed out at him and…well…” She shrugged, assuming you knew the rest. You frowned, indicating that you did, in fact, know the outcome.

“Killer also seemed to change quite a bit. He wasn’t the level headed vice captain we all grew up with. Seemed to not have much care for what happened to him. It grew reckless… He kinda stopped cooking too. It was…” Heat shook his head. “Bad.”

You stood there, shocked. Bewildered. Dumbfounded. So, your guess was right. When your brother started to grow more reckless, that’s when he received the fake news. Also, you weren’t expecting to hear all this about Killer. Stopped cooking? You just couldn’t imagine it. But…you just couldn’t fucking figure out why. It was so weird, so confusing. What would Kese gain from all this?

“It’s so fucking good to see you,” Heat said with a large smile, hugging you again. You patted his back and smiled. “It’s good to see you guys too. I just wish you all didn’t think I died. That’s definitely making everything much harder.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you pulled away from Heat.

“Well, let’s head to wherever Tungsten is now. I saw him earlier, but at this point I’m not sure if he’s fully convinced what he saw was real - same with Killer.” Their expressions were bored into your skull. Well, Eustass’. But you knew that Killer must’ve felt the same way. You could just feel it.

Wire nods. “Follow me.” And you do. You slowly find more and more crew members on the way, all of them absolutely overjoyed to see you. Gig nearly crushed you when he picked you up, sobbing as he hugged you. You almost died for real. That would’ve been incredibly awkward - surviving death allegations only to die by affection.

The only people you were missing at this point were Killer, Bubblegum, and Pomp. And the man of the hour - Kese. Though, someone mentioned he was watching the ship. Everyone seemed to be in agreement that they weren’t going to say anything to him and just let you and Eustass deal with his ass.

Eventually, you made it to the room where Eustass was fighting Big Mom. You arrived just in time to see him summon a behemoth of some kind of a machine. Your eyes widened as you watched the scene unfold before you. You’d never really watched your brother fight before, but you knew it wasn’t to this calibur. 

“Holy fucking shit,” you mumbled. “Impressive, right?” You looked over to Heat and nodded. “Yeah. When the fuck did that happen?” He shrugged. “This is definitely a newer one, but this was the only good thing that came out of…everything that happened. Awakened his devil fruit n’ all.” Your own face darkened. You still couldn’t believe that Kese just…lied to everyone. About something of that caliber too.

You needed to see this letter. To see this…picture.

While Eustass was fighting, you started patching everyone up. The lot of you stayed out of the way and you figured there was a better way to pass the time besides just sitting and watching. The fight seemed to be almost over anyway. With the amount of yelling and big attacks happening, you knew the fight was drawing to a close. 

“Aren’t you worried, y/n? You seem rather calm about the fight right now,” Wire said. You looked at him, shaking your head. “Says the man who never shows any kind expression.” You snorted before answering his question. “I’m not worried in the slightest though. I have faith in my brother. They’ll win.” 

It wasn’t long after that that he had done just that. They won. You head over to your brother with the rest of the crew, cries and shouts to be heard. You stop next to him, kneeling down and smiling. “Good job, Tungsten.” You started to patch him up quickly. He just stared at you. “You…really are back, Bigs? It wasn’t a sick delusion earlier?” You shook your head. He let out a breathless chuckle as he seemed to process it, staring up at the ceiling.

“They’re really back, captain!” Dive chimed in. You saw as tears welled in Eustass’ eyes and he covered his face with his arm. “I can’t fucking believe it,” he mumbled in a hoarse voice. You didn’t say much, just working on patching him up. You knew he was more than likely crying, but he wasn’t about to display that kind of emotion. You let him be.

Suddenly, you heard a command come from a large dragon that came crashing from above. Was that Kaido? He was a fucking dragon? An order came to attack your brother and the other captain from the other crew. You stood up, pulling out your own blades as people began to run towards the lot of you.

“Like fucking hell I’ll let them hurt you.” 

Though, not much was able to happen before a large hand came down, grabbing Kaido and yoinking him right back out of the ceiling. You blinked, looking back at your brother who was sitting up. He looked just as confused as you, shaking his head and shrugging. “Luffy - I’m assuming.” You blinked. The Strawhat guy? Man, you really were missing a lot of important pieces of information right now, but you weren’t about to dwell on it.

It seemed everyone was distracted after that. A few people tried to come after Eustass, but you took them down with ease. You saw him stand up at the corner of your eye. “You better sit the fuck back down, Tungsten!” You turned around and glared at him and he returned the sentiment. “I’m fucking fine - chill out!”

“You just took a fuckin’ beating. You don’t need to be standing!” You marched back over to him, letting the others worry about what stragglers tried to attack. 

“But I won!”

“Well, that’s not what I fucking said is it?”

“What the fuck are you getting on about?”

“I’m here to patch you up, no matter the damage. Now just accept my generosity before I let you bleed out!”

“Why are you fucking yelling at me?!”

“I’m not yelling!”

Just like that - the two of you are back to your old ways of arguing. To anyone else but the crew, it probably looked like yet another fight was about to break out, but to your crew members, they couldn’t have been happier to see the sight before their eyes. They all had smiles on their faces and some of them were even laughing about it. “Finds out y/n is alive and the first thing they do is argue. They’re really related,” you heard Wire muse.

“Why the hell are you mad at me!” You shouted, drowning out background noise.

“I’m not mad - I’m just shocked!”

“Well-”

“Well what? What could you possibly have to say now? More yelling? You’ve done enough of that!”

“I’ve got two years’ worth of scoldings to catch up on!”

“What the fuck does that mean!”

“It means-”

“Alright.” A third party interjects as you suddenly feel yourself being lifted off the ground. “Killer!” you shouted, immediately beginning to squirm. Eustass just laughed at you. “Ha! Serves you right for yelling for no reason!”

“Just ‘cause ass is in your name don’t mean you gotta act like one!” you shout from over Killer’s shoulder as he carries you away from your brother.

“Oh my fucking god - there are two of them,” you hear a voice say. Your eyes land on Trafalgar Law who looks absolutely horrified at the scene before him. You flip him off. “Mind ya business, asshole.” 

“Real threatening coming from the person being lugged around like a sack of potatoes.”

“Why you fuckin- Killer let me at him!” You start struggling only to feel his grip on you tighten and you immediately give up.

“Absolutely not.” 

He does, however, finally put you down once there’s distance in between you and your brother. You dust yourself off and straighten yourself out with a sigh before folding your arms. You looked at Killer with a small glare. “I was just trying to help,” you grumbled. 

Then you heard it. You fucking heard what haunted you from your encounter in the snow. You tensed as the laugh rang through the air and your head snapped up, looking around for that deranged swordsman.

It fucking hit you like a fucking freight train.

Your eyes widened as you slowly looked at Killer, whose shoulders were shaking along with the haunting laughter. “Killi?” Your voice was soft as you slowly walked towards him. He stepped back and you paused for a moment. You looked over to your brother whose attention had also been grabbed by the sound of Killer’s new haunting laughter. It seemed to reverberate in a way that stuck with you.

It was hollow and emotionless. Not like the genuine laughter that it used to be. This was not the laugh you had fallen in love with. It was a twisted ghost of something you once enjoyed.

“Killer, what happened?” Before really thinking, you outstretched your arm towards his helmet but he quickly grabbed your arm - which happened to be the bandaged one and you hissed softly, pulling your arm away. He paused in his own movements as well.

His own hand reached out and took your arm gently, looking at your bandages. “Did I do this?” You looked at him, confused. Wait…was that shot in the dark theory you had true? You assumed he was just affected by whatever that swordsman was infected with. Was Killer and that swordsman the same person?

“No? It was some crazy swordsman in-”

“I did this…” You could hear the realization in his voice as it also hit you, but you’re still in denial. There was no way they were the same person. The dead look in his eyes. The look of bloodlust and just…

“Killer, no-”

“I did.” He ripped off his helmet and you gasped - mostly just out of shock from his sudden movements. You looked up at him with wide eyes. The bandages were gone, yes. But that smile, that haunting, empty smile stretched across his face. It looked absolutely painful. You reached your hands up towards his face and he pulled back, that damn cackle ringing out from him.

You caught his face in your hands anyway, brushing his hair out of his face to get a whole view of him. “What did they do to you?” Your voice was soft as you looked up at him. You watched as he cackled, the smile and the noise not matching the pure sadness his eyes were portraying. You saw the tears forming in his eyes. He was clearly in pain. Surely it wasn’t comfortable to have your face stretched and contorted in such a way permanently.

There had to be something someone could do about this.

Before you could say much more, Killer pulls away, putting his helmet back on his head. Eustass joins the two of you and you look at him. “What the fuck happened?” Your brother blinks as the blame of your conversation was pointed at him. He just holds up his hands in a surrender-like way.

“It wasn’t his fault, y/n…” You look back at Killer. “I’ll…explain later.” You stare at him for a moment before looking at your brother who also has a dark expression on his face. You nod, looking back at Killer. “Fine. I’ll let it be - for now.” “We have something to take care of anyway.” The two of them nod, knowing exactly what, or who you are referring to.

[justatalkingface]

The Dabi Benchmark of Insanity: A Helpful Guide

What is it? Why won't I shut up about it whenever I talk about villains?

Yeah; this is largely a reference post, for the people who haven't seen this term before... which makes sense, since I made it the fuck up awhile ago and then never really clarified it again, even though I kept using it. I do that a lot whenever I feel the need, but I think this is the only term I've kept using consistently, and I usually explain what I mean in those posts when I make something up, so the DBI is a bit of an anomaly in that sense. I like to think it's self explanatory, really, so it probably doesn't need explanation, but... eh. I talk a lot. One more post won't hurt.

Fundamentally, the DBI is the idea that there's a... limit to how crazy a character can be and still be sympathetic; after a certain point, it doesn't matter how bad their backstory was, no one is going to like the guy eating babies. Authors can (and often do) try to make a truly fucked up character sympathetic anyways, but once they pass that point the response generally isn't sympathy but, 'JFC, can this guy shut up about how we should all like The Masked Baby-Eater already? That guy's an asshole'.

I say 'crazy' for a reason, BTW. The sheer factual amount of evil deeds a character does only has a limited effect on how readers will consider them; how the character is presented, and how they act as they do these deeds effect that reception as well. An easy example is how in something like Gundam, a character who does something objectively horrible (kill someone, start a war, etc etc), but because of how they're developed, and way they act as they do it, we will still sympathize with them. Meanwhile, if there's a school story, a character who is just rude and cruel can be absolutely loathed, by everyone, even if what they did can't possibly be compared to the Gundam character.

It's not that you can't make a good character if you go beyond this point, it's the opposite really: there's plenty of good, memorable characters who are festering shitholes devoid of positive character traits, but we're not expected to find them sympathetic, just really cool or iconic in some way. Making them sympathetic imposes limits on how out there that character can be.

I call it the 'Dabi' benchmark because I feel like Dabi is the perfect example of an edge case, a person who is horrific and broken, but you can still just feel for him why he's like this. It's core to his fundamental design as a character, from his traumatic backstory, to how he's broken and scarred and barely held together by his sheer will, so that while he's an objectively terrible person, cruel, sadistic, who kills easily and wants only to destroy, the reason he's like that is something intrinsically understandable and thus easy to sympathize with.

(Of course, the problem with Dabi is that, as MHA went on, Hori kept changing Endeavour to try and make him sympathetic, while at times intentionally making Dabi seem more at fault for his situation to mitigate Endeavour's blame, which damaged Dabi's characterization on a fundamental level and makes him less sympathetic... but that's not Dabi's fault, that's inconsistent writing)

At the same time, though, I must repeat that he is a terrible human being who does horrible things, and which puts him at that very edge of sympathy, only being accepted by people by how good his backstory is, how fucked up yet human is motivations ultimately are. If his actions had pushed beyond that point, if, for example, instead of just killing people he cold bloodedly tortured them for no real reason, his reception would have been less positive than it was.

In short? The farther a character goes past the Dabi Benchmark of Insanity, that is to say, the more a character is crazier than Dabi, the more people are going to look at you like you're crazy when you try to make them seem sympathetic to the audience.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Cater Diamond Halloween Personal Story: Part 2

"What a bunch of lies"

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)

[Classroom]

Kalim/Cater/Lilia: Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh～～～ So tireddddddd～～～

Cater: This year's Halloween's way too crazy. Especially 'cause of the guests all being so rowdy…

Kalim: I like entertaining guests and all, but Jamil's mood's gotten so bad that it's terrible.

Lilia: Even we're totally exhausted and we're supposed to be the three peppiest boys here. Most of the other students must already be at their limit.

Kalim/Cater/Lilia: Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh～～～

Cater: Well anyway, it's great that we ended up having all of the Pop Music Club members on the Halloween Steering Committee.

Cater: Let's have one of our club's customary snack breaks, while we strategize some countermeasures.

Kalim/Lilia: AYE, AYE～!

Cater: Ta-daa, I brought this. It's Trey-kun's handmade pumpkin pie! It's my absolute fave, 'cause it's not too sweet ♪

Kalim: I brought a knafeh. It's a type of cheesecake from Scalding Sands. It tastes best when it's eaten hot!

Lilia: Oho. You both brought stuff that suits Halloween, I see. And here, last, but not least, here's what I brought.

Lilia: Licorice candy!

Cater: That's the same thing you always bring!! Both me and Kalim already told you we don't really like it.

Kalim: Yeah, it's got a little too strong of a smell, it makes my nose crinkle～

Cater: But hey, I guess it's black, so it's got a kind of Halloween feel to it.

Cater: Oh yeah. Let's take a picture of the three of us together. It'd be great to show off how good we look with our Halloween costumes and sweets.

Cater: 'KAY, HAPPY HALLOWEEN ☆

[shutter clicks]

Cater: #TheBestHalloween☆ #OurCostumes #OurTreats #PopMusicClub #NRCHalloween

Kalim: The best? Weren't you just saying you were super exhausted, Cater?

Cater: I mean, I'm not lying when I say I'm excited, either, and it's better to be more peppy when posting online.

Lilia: That's the spirit, Cater. This is the age where you can connect to anyone in the world. It's better to spread happiness, rather than complaints.

Cater: Oh! I'm getting some good responses on that picture I just uploaded to Magicam!

♪♪♪

Cater: It's a message from that person again. Were they always this persistent?

♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪

Cater: Now they're calling. So persistent…

Kalim: Oh, is that a friend, Cater? You can answer it here if you want.

Cater: Hmm～ …More like an old acquaintance? But it's fine. 'Cause we're in a super important meeting right now, anyway!

Lilia: All we're doing is eating snacks and taking pictures to upload to Magicam, however…

Cater: We're in that age where we can connect with people whenever we want, right? So I can't be fielding calls in real time all the time, y'know.

Kalim: Wow, you get that many people calling you all the time? Man, you're really a social butterfly, Cater～

Cater: Eh, I guess, if you think that's what it means to have a wide circle of acquaintances?

Cater: My father works as a banker, you see. And banks have branches all over the world.

Cater: So, whenever my dad got transfer orders, the whole family had to move.

Cater: We probably moved about once every two years or so, so I guess you could say I'm a pro at packing, or something like that?

Lilia: We were always one of those families that never settled down.

Kalim: So, when you were younger, you traveled all over the world, huh. Well, I totally see how you made so many friends, then.

Cater: Yeah, that person who messaged me earlier also considered me a friend, I guess.

Cater: I definitely met more people changing schools in such a short amount of time like that, than I would have if I stayed in one place.

Cater: The best kinds of people, and the worst kinds of people… I met 'em all. But there was always just one thing in common.

Kalim/Lilia: ……？

Cater: I would leave there eventually, and they'd all stay.

Cater: That's why instead of a down-to-earth relationship with someone, I'd rather just have a casual and happy-go-lucky relationship with everyone.

Cater: Kind of like those circus guys who'll come in for a whirlwind of fun with people all around the world, and then leave when it's done.

Cater: That's why Magicam's real neat. I even can get messages from people I knew in school three years ago.

Cater: I'm able to make more and more casual and light friendships, y'see? Now that's Cay-kun approved ☆

Kalim: I don't think you gotta restrain yourself, just 'cause you're far away from them, do you?

Kalim: Oh, I got an idea! I'll lend you my magical carpet. That way you can go see your friend anytime you want.

Cater: … Thanks, Kalim-kun. Maybe I'll use it one day?

Lilia: ―I think I understand you.

Cater: Huh?

Lilia: The bonds built between people will never disappear. It continues on forever.

Lilia: And sometime in your future, new bonds will develop that you cannot avoid. That is just what happens.

Lilia: However, the more important a bond you carry with someone, the lonelier it will feel without them.

Lilia: Why do we feel this way? I've lived quite a long life, and yet it's still shrouded in mystery to me.

Lilia: Just as you professed earlier, Cater, perhaps one truth to it all is to avoid becoming too attached to certain people.

Cater: Lilia-chan, what just came over you? No, what I wanted to say was―

♪♪♪♪♪♪

Lilia: Hello, it's Lilia-chan. What's up?

Cater: Man, he's just super alright with answering the phone in the middle of a conversation, huh.

Lilia: Oh, Sebek. What's going on? Why are you shouting? I'm in a meeting with Cater and Kalim right now.

Lilia: WHAT!? MALLEUS IS WHAT―!?

Kalim/Cater: !?

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)

[antaresr]

I have no idea what I'm doing, but I probably look crazy doing it.

The draft/first chapter of the Kleptoshipping Fic, and I'm posting it because I need some encouragement xd

Again, English is not my first language, so I apologize if there is any inconsistency.

Yūgi was tense, they had made it all the way to the semi-finals and the other duelists didn't show up, he knew Marik would arrive and he and his other self needed to be ready for whatever he had planned.

The wind suddenly shifted and a figure emerged from the shadows of the stadium, Yūgi shrinking into himself until the person came into view, the white hair unmistakable.

"Bakura!" he and Jounouchi shouted at the same time.

"How is your wound?" Anzu was the first to worry, Yūgi opened his eyes when he heard her, he turned his eyes to his friend's arm when he started to itch his own wound after Jounouchi told him that they had heard that he had disappeared from the hospital, he held his breath when he saw the bandage soaked with blood.

It was too much blood for a cut, it should have been deep and painful, but instead Bakura was as if nothing had happened.

The spirit of the ring, is controlled by the spirit of the ring. It was obvious, Bakura had always shown that he could not withstand physical exertion, such a wound should be extremely painful for him. But not for the spirit. He concluded in his mind.

Just as he was about to speak to the ring spirit, a new duelist appeared, sending a shiver down his spine: Marik?

"Namu!" his friends shouted.

"We meet again, Jounouchi, Anzu" he was suspiciously friendly, his voice was too... wrong.

Yūgi had his reservations, it was strange, Yūgi had sensed something when this guy came in, maybe he wasn't the smartest, but his instinct had never failed, he knew that Jounouchi and Honda weren't bad and he had guessed right, so this guy must be....

"You're the one who saved me!" Bakura's shout interrupted his thoughts and he concentrated on the exchange.

"It is you! How's your wound?" he had changed, he looked relieved, almost happy.

"Yūgi, let me introduce you"Anzu came closer. "This is Namu, he's our friend, right, Jounouchi?"

Anzu trusted him, so the guy couldn't be bad, right? Maybe Yūgi was wrong for the first time? Maybe it was the stress of the upcoming confrontations and the possibility of meeting Marik that made him suspicious, besides he had helped Bakura, Yūgi bit his lower lip after the handshake with Namu.

"Yūgi, look at this!" the ring entered his field of vision, then he was right, one of the needles was pointing towards the entrance of the stadium. "It's reacting, it will be here soon."

Yugi turned to where the ring was pointing and stiffened, a hooded man entered, the aura he radiated was cold, and when he passed him and looked at him, he felt like he could fall down from shaking legs, the guy was powerful.

"Yūgi, who possesses Osiris, Kaiba, who possesses Obelisk, I must defeat them and get the God Cards back" his voice was cold and determined, Yūgi had no doubt that the guy was willing to get rid of them by any way, his power was terrible.

"Seven duelists have gathered here, I have something to announce" Isono called out, placing himself between Marik and them, as if he too unconsciously felt his power "All the winners of the preliminaries have gathered in the state of Domino, but the final arena is not here, the real arena will soon appear before us."

Suddenly, the airship appeared above the stadium, the lights illuminated it, giving it a triumphant entrance, and it began to descend into the arena.

"This is the final arena?" Yūgi asked in shock.

"That is correct, its name is Battle Ship!" Isono said in an authoritative voice, adding to the excitement. "The arena for the first round will be a thousand meters in the air."

Suddenly, a thought struck Yūgi and he turned to Isono, as well as Kaiba and Mokuba.

"Are there emergency kits inside?" the three looked at him, Kaiba with a raised eyebrow, but he didn't care.

"Eh, yes, the rooms are equipped to..." He didn't let the bodyguard finish as he already pulled Bakura into the airship.

"Yugi?" the voice wavered between anger and confusion.

He entered one of the rooms and sat Bakura down on the bed and searched for the first aid kit and when he found it, he returned to Bakura's side, opened the box and found everything he needed.

He hurried to undo the bandage that Bakura already had on, since the spirit didn't complain, Yūgi continued with his self-imposed task, taking out the small disinfectant spray and spraying it on the wound, then cleaning it with a gauze that he had just taken out of its sterile packaging.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence in the room. "Bakura's skin seems to be sensitive, but it doesn't seem to bother you."

He listened to the slight inspiration of the ghost, he thought he had made him angry and now he was going to attack him, but no, although he did not answer his question, his voice remained soft, just like him.

"You don't seem to be bothered that I pretended to be your friend" a slight snort, maybe to hide a reaction to the burning of the cream he was putting on him, Yūgi knew it could be annoying.

"I am bothered" to prove his point, he pressed on the wound until Bakura groaned and let go. "But it's my friend's body, if I have to take care of you to make him well, I will."

He put some clean gauze over the wound and began to bandage it tightly enough to stop the bleeding but not cut off the blood supply to his arm, then he looked up and saw the face of his friend, the spirit, just looking at him with surprised eyes and an open mouth, as if he was stuck with his words and didn't know what to say.

"I have to go," he quickly closed the medicine kit, but not before taking out a strip of pills and getting up from the bed, he held out the strip and the spirit took it. "Take these pills if your arm hurts."

And he hurried out of the room, leaned against the door and regulated his breathing, when his heart returned to normal speed he continued his way to another room, where he dropped on the bed, closed his eyes and sighed.

[i-am-a--lionheart]

Gravity

@sunorweek2023 Day 5 - Kalmar Union (with delay, obvi)

Originally written for @sunor-hq Zine in 2018, with minor alterations (ever asked yourself why some nations need glasses? Here is a possible explanation and it is eh, no fun)

Names:

Kjetil - Norway

Björn - Sweden

Christian - Denmark

TW: abuse, hinted SA, post torture

R: T+

Everything was dark in this chamber; the air was as cold as ice and still so full of humidity that breathing had become a terrible exercise for him. Breathing in, breathing out, and in again.

This was nearly the only thing he could do, the only thing he could do except from experiencing this terrible pain in his whole body.

There was something cold dripping on his surely bruised cheek, something even colder than the air and the cold floor made of stones in his back. If Björn hadn’t been able to hear just the softest, the faintest of sobs, he would have thought those cold drops were plain water from the ceiling and nothing else.

The dark that surrounded him was so deep without even the slightest source of light and he was not sure anymore if it was the natural dark of the cellar he knew so well by now or if he had been blinded. He had tried to open his eyes a couple of times already since he had awoken from his painful slumber, but it was absolutely useless. His head ached so much while he tried to remember what had happened yesterday. Yesterday? The day before? He was not even sure when exactly Christian had locked him in here after another violent fight that the Swede had lost against his elder. Björn had lost his sense of time and not only this sense – the only thing he could smell was dried up blood and the fould scent of a cell that was all moldy and cold, the only thing he could feel were the cold stones in his back and the chill metal around his wrists and, of course, those cold drops that fell so steadily on his face. His mouth tasted like death to him – what differed this from death anyways?

His heartbeat was slow and shallow, his lungs were ripped, his breathing rigged, his body torn – now what was different? Everything was cold, everything felt meaningless except for the warmth he could suddenly feel on his broken arms. And those quiet sobs that echoed so loudly between these walls of stone, those sobs gave all of this a meaning. If even always-not-caring Kjetil was crying, Christian must had beaten him to the very verge of dying.

Strangely the sadness, the desperation and fear that he could sense in Kjetils behaviour made him angrier than the fact he had been abused and locked away again.

Honestly, by now Björn was used to it, was used to the weekly arguments, the fights – he had always known that a union between the three of them would destroy their bonds rather than strengthen them. It had been tough during the Viking ages once they had drifted apart and what started as the idea of a united, strong North, had ended in violence and anger.

Those arguments would always star slowly, but exploded within mere minutes into unfair fights, first with insults and accusation. But since a few months it never stayed verbal at all.

They were nations – that was the reason his weak, hurt heart kept beating – they were nations and they were bound to be brutal, merciless creatures.

His hopeless thoughts were suddenly ripped into pieces by a sharp pain coming from his eye sockets – the warmth of Kjetils hands was gone and instead he could sense a cold liquid pouring on his face and into his opened, bloody eyes. The sobs hadn’t stopped completely but they were disrupted by chanted words uttered by a shivering voice. Björn had opened his cracked lips, probably in an attempt to scream because the pain was worse than anything, but a soft hand was clenched onto his mouth while a second pressed his jaw back with gentle force.

“Quiet.”, the Norwegian’s voice was back to his usual cool tone as far as Björn was able to hear it with the exploding pain in the back of his head. If he had listened more closely, however, Björn could have heard that the fear still stained his heavy, melodious tone. But the only thing that kept the Swede busy was pain, pain, and even more pain.

Was that even Kjetil? Why would he hurt him like that? Especially in this state?! Especially even when he always proclaimed that he loved him even though he behaved so cold most of the times.

His anger got worse, filling his veins with burning blood, but a small voice inside of him told him that it was probably just a way to quicken his healing progress. Kjetil was a healer after all.

And it was just this.

When the explosions in his brain finally had stopped, his vision had begun to clear up. Björn wondered if his eyes had ever been closed at all or if they had been bloody sockets with a mess of flesh inside of them. He still wasn’t able to see the lines of the stones at the ceiling, but the face of his companion appeared in front of his now restored, sea blue eyes.

Kjetil looked sick, his face even paler as usual, his dark blue eyes held a shade so red that they stood out like drops of blood on fresh snow. On the left side the red, puffy eyes were accompanied by a deep purplish greed spreading around it. Unshed tears still filled the deep orbs of the younger, whose face was stained by those he had shed and his whole figure was shaking, from fear or cold, Björn couldn’t tell.

He felt the need to sit up and pull him into his arms but a hand on his chest stopped him from doing so.

Just now he realised the soft blue light radiating from the places that the younger one had touched.

His arms didn’t feel as cracked as before and even though his clothes were still stained by his dried blood, he could imagine that his ribcage was closed again, with fresh, sensitive skin stretching over healed bones. Björn didn’t want to imagine what amount of energy sick, sick Kjetil had used to repair him like that. And even though he tried to raise his voice to tell him to stop, it was as if Kjetil controlled every movement of him.

It took hours and hours for him to heal, even with the energy and the chants of the Norwegian and after a while the both of them could hear hard and heavy steps coming down the stairs. Kjetils eyes – now even more tired looking than before, shifted from his patient to the metal door that separated the cell from the hallway. He froze for a second – of course he should have thought about this more closely, the sleeping potion did not last as long in Christian’s body than it did in Emil’s. The Norwegian wanted to stand up but a hand around his wrist kept him on the ground – even though Björn had looked so weak and destroyed during those hours he had spent by his side – he still was far stronger than he himself war. The Swede had finally managed to free his tongue from whatever Kjetil had used to keep him quiet. “Stay.” He could not even bear the thought of Kjetil going out there, having to face this monstrosity of a nation alone. “Please.”

Kjetil turned his gaze downwards to him again, his face softer than it had been in a very long time. He looked him with a mixture of warmth, desperation and the quietest love while his lips had curled into half of a smile. “I can’t. I am sorry.”, the younger one reached down with his free hand and loosened the grip of his elder, intertwining their fingers for the shortest of moments. “I can’t.”

The sounds had become louder, and Kjetil stood up, his eyes gleaming as he tried to pull all of his courage together. For little Emil, for Björn, even for little Tino. Then he went to the door once he knew that Christian had stepped onto the last stair, opened it and locked it behind him, very well knowing that once his mostly muffled screams had reached the inside of this cell, Björn could break his chains.

[the-marron]

Tagged by @miss-ingno - I was certain I did this twice already, but I cannot for the life of me find these posts for some reason, so I shall reply again 😅 Thanks for the tag!

How many works do you have on AO3? 150

What's your total AO3 word count? 1,284,770

What fandoms do you write for? recently I used to write the most to Guardian and Weilan derivatives (Luolin!~) but I am slowly and surely slowing down on writing altogether

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? skipping that one, I am certain I answered this one around five times and the answer is still the same. I can say that my most kudosed work is at 1,220, because I think this is the only new info I can offer on the topic.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I love writing comments and responding to them, no matter how much time passed! It's great to get a comment on something I posted around 10 years ago and remember what I thought about, how I saw that ship back then, and all that, plus sometimes people simply share their thoughts about the canon work itself in the comments and I love to have discussions with people I would not meet otherwise.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? eh, idk? My angst-meter is broken, so I cannot discern what is the saddest thing I committed. Probably either Unceasing Path (Luolin) or When I Make an Oath to the Flames (Weilan), but I don't know really.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? well, not sure at all either. But I think the Grindeldore series?

Do you get hate on fics? More like hate on me personally, but not often, thankfully

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I don't. Usually the story I want to tell doesn't need any sex scenes, because the emotions that would come up in those were already explored earlier, in a different way, and I do find them boring, so why force myself.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Oh, I absolutely do and I enjoy them both in reading and in writing. Weilan derivs are crossovers already, so I've written quite a lot of those. I think the craziest crossovers I've written are also the ones I will not publish, so I shall remain silent 😆

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not all of it, just ideas and scenes

Have you ever co-written a fic before? YES! And I love the experience!

What's your all-time favorite ship? No idea, any time I find a new ship I adore it pretty much looks like this:

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I have only one WIP in the works and I am pretty sure I will finish it, as for the rest - I only have ideas and I might end up abandoning them and never doing anything about them, so not exactly WIPs, are they

What are your writing strengths? I guess variety? I like changing genres and styles, to have fun with POVs and different settings?

What are your writing weaknesses? I am rather careless, keep on making typos, changing my idea of a sentence after writing half of it, forgetting which version of the plot I am ultimately going with, so I am a mess that keeps on updating stories years after publishing them because I spotted yet another typo while scrolling through them.

First fandom you wrote for? Inuyasha, an OC that was the main hero's half-sister, trying to fit into the family after realising she has it. It was a gen fic, surprise, surprise, and it ended up in a crossover with another girl running an Inuyasha blog - our respective characters made guest appearances in our stories. It was fun.

Favorite fic you've written? No idea. Really, depends on the mood, I sometimes think I did a good job with something, other times I decide everything I've written is terrible in new, exciting ways

Apologies for the short answers, I am truly out of my writing era 😅

Not tagging anyone because I am certain I did this tag twice so I probably would end up tagging the same people all over again, so if someone is reading this and would like to share, I would be very happy to read the replies (tag me please, so I can see), but no pressure~

[venusdebotticelli]

Spoilery thoughts for the ofmd finale below:

Definitely gonna need a season 3 because that finale left me feeling very bleeeh :/

All the rushing and pacing issues throughout the season really stole a lot of the punch of it (and I'm side-eyeing certain writing choices that were once again not made with the thoughtful care that was such a given in s1).

I'll probably warm up to it after I've had the time to let it marinate a bit, because in theory it hits very good beats in an interesting arc; it's mainly once again the execution that falls short.

And also it desperately needs a s3 to actually work, because if that were to be the ending it leaves them in a rather shit place narratively. Ed and Stede making a well-meaning but *very clear* mistake as their family sails off to likely death. The innkeeping is obviously going to go as well as the fishing did, which is only highlighted by just how long of the episode they spent on it, proportionally¿? Also a bit too long spent on tooting Izzy's horn (understandable, even if not a choice I'm happy with) and the whole dragged out bit with the Brits in Spanish Jackie'z just being unbearable racist dicks (which we already know¿? and extremely uncomfortable to watch, even if most of them did get poisoned and bayonetted, but eh).

All of which is time that could have gone to giving us actual talking between Ed and Stede, or a deep, slow kiss at the end scene there (or both), because while the interactions we did get were cute and good enough, they did feel rather sidelined in their own show's finale¿??¿¿? Which is once again just ~good enough~, I guess, for the ending of the second act, but without a guaranteed s3 I'm very much not satisfied right now :/

(and Pete and Lucius deserved better too, very underwhelming wedding :S)

Edit: This post just got a couple more notes a week after I wrote it, so disclaimer that this was my gut reaction immediately after watching the ep for the first time, when I was feeling rather overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff we got in only 30 mins and still reeling from the pacing. After rewatching it my opinion was a lot more positive than this, and especially after having had the time to think about it and seeing other people's thoughts as well 😅 I am writing a new post with my actual opinion now, but I do have terrible adhd, so until that's written, yeah, take this with a grain of salt :p

[builder051]

Pale ale

——————

A little Whoa Bessie Halloween featuring college Bucky and Steve.

Warnings for college drinking and foul language

——————

“I’m so glad these don’t have doorbells.” Bucky hip-checks the door to his dorm. He turns the lock with one hand and balances a 6-pack of beer on the palm of the other.

“You’re gonna drop those.” Steve crashes on James’s bed.

“No, I’m not.”

James turns around and grins. He hefts the weight of the package behind the opposite arm as if showing off a trick with a basketball. The flimsy cardboard wrapper doesn’t hold up to the weight of the tilting cans, and all six come tumbling down.

“Oh, shit.” James lunges for the can that lands on the foot of the bed while the rest crash to the floor. One particularly unlucky beer hits the corner of one of the bed risers, and foam gushes onto the carpet. “Fuck.”

Steve scuttles to pick it up, practically crashing heads with James in his rush.

“You’re gonna get in trouble if it smells like alcohol in here.” Steve’s eyes go wide with sincerity. “You have to stay on the good side or they won’t let me come in here anymore.”

“Relax.”

James tosses the rest of the cans onto his comforter. They roll toward Steve, who now sits criss-cross with his face in his hands. James throws his towel over the spill and steps on it. Then climbs onto the bed beside Steve.

“You know you worry too much.” It’s a statement. James is caught between indulging Steve’s anxiety and assuaging it.

“Yeah, well.” Steve looks up and visibly gulps. “We’re kinda close to the line. Like, a lot.”

“I’d be surprised if a single RA is patrolling for curfew.” James rolls his eyes. “I mean, if they man their posts at all. It’s always honor system on party nights.”

“I guess so.” Steve tries a smile, but it comes off as a grimace. “Upper class-men party it up more?”

“Eh, most people get out of their systems their first year. Seniors…” James shrugs. “I don’t know. They probably go to real parties off campus, since they’re old folks with IDs and all.”

Steve tilts his head. “Who goes to the frat parties, then?”

“Aw, probably some dumb kids…”James keeps his face carefully stoic and grabs the nearest beer. It spits in his face when he pops the tab.

“You’re talking in circles.” Steve narrows his eyes at James. “Unless you’re implying the Greek system is swindling the freshmen.”

“They’ve got to replace themselves somehow.” James holds the beer under Steve’s chin. “Here, drink up.”

“Watch yourself. I thought you were better than that.”

“Oh, I’m terrible.” James takes a beer for himself. He clinks it sideways against the one in Steve’s hand. “Somebody’s got to teach you right.”

“You’re only one year older.” Steve puffs himself up.

“And you’ve never pulled an all-nighter. Come on. Drink up.” James leans into Steve’s shoulder. “I’ve got to raise you right. It’s my job.”

“I guess…” Steve takes a swallow of his beer. The cap is more fizz than substance, and he coughs instead of swallowing. “Oh god.” Foam runs from Steve’s nose. He pulls his hand into his sleeve and uses the cuff to wipe his face.

“Remember to breathe,” James reminds him, trying not to laugh. “Breathe while you drink. Just not at the same time.” He knocks Steve between the shoulder blades with what’s probably too much gusto.

“That makes no sense.” Steve sputters again and pulls a face. “This is… kind of disgusting.”

“Meh.” James takes a long draught. “Yeah, it ain’t great.” He swills a bit in his mouth as he tries to sum up the flavor. “It’s… almost a pilsner. Just a little watery. But, heck, it’s from WalMart.” He points toward the cardboard packaging on the floor. “I should’ve told you to have low expectations.”

“How much do I have to have in order to get drunk?” Steve looks at James like he’s out of his mind.

“I don’t know.” James nurses his own beer for a moment. “Three? Maybe two?”

Steve blinks at James as if he’s out of his mind.

“What?” Then James realizes he’s calculated incorrectly, neglecting to account for their difference in size and stature. “Maybe just the one,” James backtracks. “Just drink what you have.”

Steve lifts his can back to his lips and cringes. “I don’t get it. People seriously go wild for this stuff?”

James laughs. “Drink it for the feeling, not the taste. A lot of options are tastier. I think they make pumpkin spice beer nowadays.”

“You could’ve got us some of that.”

“That’s sure some thank you.” James goes to cuff him in the side of the head, but instead he winds up smoothing the flyaways behind Steve’s ear. “I had to do a lot of work to get this stuff. It’s not like there’s much choice when I’m slipping a twenty to a guy with a pick-up truck.”

“I guess.” Steve sighs, then tips his head back and begins to guzzle.

James can hear the carbonation liquid popping as it runs down Steve’s throat. “Careful there. Remember what I said about breathing?”

Steve surfaces, gasping. He holds his can with the tips of his trembling fingers. “How much—?” Steve starts. “How much do you have to have to make you throw up?”

“It varies, I guess,” James says. “Usually after you’re drunk and everything.”

“Oh.” Steve bites his lip. “I don’t think I want to get drunk…”

“You don’t have to.” James tries to cool the back of Steve’s neck with his open palm. “Just, uh, try not to get it on the carpet.”

“Sure…” Steve slurs heavily.

“You said I’d be in trouble if it smells like beer in here.” James looks squarely at the wall and continues, “I think I’ll be in more trouble if it smells like, well, you know.”

He can’t last a second. Neither of them can. James busts out laughing at the same moment Steve lurches for the trash bin. James gets off the bed to sit at his side.

As James moves, two of the loose beer cans fall back onto the carpet. He turns his gaze from Steve to glare at them over his shoulder. These ones have the good grace not to explode.

[hopeymchope]

I've been struggling with what to say about "Process of Elimination" since I completed it last week.

It's a hard one to tackle because it's enjoyable, it's good... but it's still got issues, too. Most things do, I guess. But I can overlook them more easily if you can get me really invested/excited about what's happening or the characters it's happening to. This story, on the other hand, never made me drop it completely but also never got me all that excited. There's enough to love to make it worthwhile without it ever being great. In game review parlance, this is probably a low 7/10. (For anyone who isn't aware: For SOME goddamn reason, game reviews typically dub anything from 6/10 and lower as all being various degrees of "bad." Kind of like the U.S. school grading system, I guess?)

Both the Switch and PS4 physical releases are all "Deluxe Editions," as far as I know. So all copies currently include a digital soundtrack and a mini-art book that you'd better avoid opening until you complete the game.

Did I enjoy the game/visual novel and its story? Overall, yes. But I mean... it's very much targeted at my personal interest area. It's got a fun gameplay setup for investigating mysteries, and it's a very Dangan-like mystery full of odd/entertaining characters at its core. If you like things like Danganronpa and/or the Ace Attorney series, then of course this is going to be up your alley. It's in that kind of wheelhouse: Loads of dialogue peppered with occasional gameplay periods, etc. I can naturally recommend it to those people, even if it isn't going to hit the same heights that they do.

Did I like the characters' personalities/talents and their unique writing? Eh... well enough I guess. I certainly have some faves; a couple of them even survived the story, although one fave was ruined by a reveal that erased their previous likability. I suppose that always happens in these kinds of titles.

Would I play a sequel? Again: Definitely yes, for much the same reasons as I cited two paragraphs up. It's just right in my target area of interest. (And the game definitely ends with a big, wide opening left for a follow-up.)

Did I get invested enough that I was thinking about the game when I wasn't playing, anxiously waiting to hear the next bit of dialogue or witness the next reveal? No. It never gets that "can't wait to see what's next" feeling that the Danganronpa, Zero Escape, or A.I.: The Somnium Files series — and even the recent Yurukill: The Calumniation Games — all instilled in me. THOSE games/Visual Novels are what voracious readers would dub "page-turners." Process of Elimination is, by comparison, not much of a page-turner for most of its duration; I wasn't terribly excited/driven to see what was coming next for most of the runtime. I only reached that level of interest in seeing what was ahead during the final chapter. The plot never gets as exciting as those games, nor do the characters ever get as endearing and engaging to follow as a Danganronpa game (which I consider my current gold standard for character writing in these things).

You'll do this in every chapter — sometimes even more than once. But you'll never do it for very long.

Now, I've already talked about the basics of how the gameplay segments work in an earlier post. And in that post, I "guesstimated" that it'd be close to DR in terms of gameplay/dialogue balance. However, now that I've completed it, I confess I was wrong. The balance wasn't like Danganronpa or Ace Attorney. This one leans even MORE heavily into the "Visual Novel" side than any of those do. Gameplay segments are relatively brief by comparison, taking up slightly less than 10% of your game time overall. But hey — the game as a whole is also shorter than any of those games are, too, so that helps make things even out a little bit.

Warnings for any new/potential players

1) If you buy this game, absolutely do not open the Mini Art Book it comes with until after you finish the game. But also: Absolutely DO open it after you finish it, because some of the character art and information therein is REALLY worth seeing. There's some great reveals and details in there that just aren't shared in the actual text of the story. First off, I just want to say that although I enjoyed this game and its story.

2) Another warning: After you finish the game, you'll likely notice that there are still "events" in the Residual Thought gallery that you haven't unlocked. You need to go back through the investigations (don't worry; you can just select the chapter from the chapter list, and then choose to jump RIGHT to the investigations) and complete them again, using Discount Shuichi Incompetent Detective to grab any new Residual Thoughts that appear on the map along the way. Getting them all not only reveals some key new backstory, it also eventually unlocks a new epilogue scene that I feel is worth the effort.

Faves and Anti-Faves

For the sake of avoiding spoilers, I'll just say that a few of my faves remained that way all the way up to the end. And a couple of said faves even survived, which was nice to see. But of course, I did lose at least one fave as well — someone I found wholly lovable turned out to have a dark reveal that effectively erased their previous warmth. And much like most of the Danganronpa games, I even had an "anti-fave"; a character who acts like an overt asshole the entire time despite the life-or-death stakes. That'd be Renegade Detective. He sucks from the moment he's introduced in the very first chapter, so it's not like I'm spoiling anything to say that he's flashing the biggest "DO NOT TRUST" warning of the cast from the jump.

"I am here to cause problems on purpose."

As for our Shuichi-lookin' protagonist?

Did he escape out from under his "Discount Shuichi" label eventually? YES, I felt he earned a decent enough level of distinction.

Did I like the way he got there? NO, honestly. There was basically a quick-and-easy shift from one extreme to another that I can't adequately explain herein...

Did I like him by the end of the game? KIND OF. Well enough that I wouldn't mind following him again if I had to, at any rate.

Gripes/Complaints

1) Okay, so I'm not going to spoil anything if I can help it, but I want to speak very vaguely about the mastermind/villain reveal. I'm someone who finds it impossible to NOT try to predict how twists/reveals will eventually go down in mysteries. I've watched SO MANY mystery TV shows and movies and played so many mystery-centric games over the years, and it's always fun for me to try and guess the culprit when you can. I'm infinitely delighted if a mystery can surprise me or take turns I never saw coming. But in the case of PoE, if you're looking at all for the mastermind and you've got adequate experience in mystery stories or "twist ending" stories... IMO, it's not hard to figure out the culprit. It follows a very specific trope that I've seen plenty of times, so I saw it coming pretty early on. By the end of Chapter 2, I already had my eye on them. And by the time you get to the final chapter, you're almost definitely going to realize who it is WELL before the reveal drops, because they start waving a gigantic flag pointing at themselves that nobody else in the group seems to notice.

My "predictive" habit also means that I managed to imagine something that I thought would be extremely unlikely, wild as fuck, and incredibly impactful to our characters on a personal/emotional level. I can't help wishing that I'd been close to the truth with my imagined mastermind. (Even though it would've ruined one of my fave characters in here, lol.)

2) I wish the second investigation wasn't the hardest in the game. If you wanna collect everything (and let's be real: YES YOU DO), it's the toughest to manage in the time allotted. There's a mini-investigation in Chapter 4 that presents some challenge due to the wandering enemies, but once you figure out where they tend to land, that's about it. I never struggled anywhere else. I think the difficulty balance is a bit off, is what I'm saying. Like, maybe Chapter 5 or Chapter 6 should've contained mild difficulty in the investigation segments? Considering they're the last two? But Chapter 5 is roughly the easiest one outside of Chapter 1, which is... interesting.

3) I can't spell this out either, but: There's a key component of two important characters' backstory that is eventually revealed late in the game that... really requires more explanation than it's given. Like. HOW could that be possible? Given how much the game teases this eventual reveal right from the start, I sorta thought they'd eventually fully explain those past events but... nah they didn't bother. I guess it's being held back for a sequel, if they get to make one?

I'll get more specific in just a moment.

Okay, let's go into a couple of FULL SPOILERS under the cut.

(Please don't click unless/until you've played the thing to the very end.)

So here's the backstory issue: If Incompetent was actually Ideal and was gored by one of the robots as a kid, someone please explain to me how he was saved but MORE IMPORTANTLY, how his innate talents and knowledge and abilities were just transferred to another kid who volunteered to take them. That's not a thing that people can do? In fact, that kinda sounds like fucking magic. I assume that if they pursue a sequel, they'll eventually have to lay out some wild explanation involving experimental technology or something.

Furthermore, there's an ending issue: Despite Doleful's constant claims that there's no evidence that they're the Duke and that these people were all suicidal anyway and shit, THEIR OWN WORDS pretty much betray them. You can't SERIOUSLY expect me to believe that you arrested them solely for indirectly causing ONE death, because their words and actions during the climax provide MORE than enough evidence to nail them to the wall. Even if Techie DIDN'T record Doleful's rant (which seems unlikely), then multiple respected, high-ranking detectives heard him outline details that only the Duke could possibly know, including the claim that these people were all part of "mutual murder/suicides." And the Duke's involvement in setting up the circumstances for those things is also blatantly criminal in damn near every country on Earth, so uh... yeah. He's fucked. But I'm confident that they were trying to set it up so that he could easily get off the hook (somehow) for a sequel rampage? Which is really... pretty dumb.

One last thing is that a fundamental part of the game's story is how our hero believes he must never, ever take a life in his work as a detective/cop, no matter what situation he's in... which strikes me as just incredibly naïve. But the writing celebrates this perspective — despite the fact that he ends up causing additional deaths due to this attitude! No one ever calls him on that. He never feels guilty about it. He just is like "Nope. It doesn't matter whose life is at stake. It doesn't matter if they have a gun on a hostage. It doesn't matter if they'll clearly escape to kill again in mere moments if I don't stop them forcibly right here, right now. I'll never, ever risk taking a life." And while that's noble and respectable in theory (especially in light of our modern reality where we see so many trigger-happy cops).... it's mega-cringe in practice here, in this particular story. But that's an "individual mileage may vary" bit, I suppose.