#<- not a hot take at all. like that shit is cold

[trvthservm]

let’s talk virgin!geto who might be inexperienced but knows what he wants.

you both have been dating for a good few months, early years of college and can’t get your hands off each other. he’s the sweetest boyfriend you could ask for, possessive sure but he always treats you right. it’s one of his first serious relationships while you had dated around before, plenty of experience up your sleeve. he makes sure to kiss your forehead, carry an extra jacket because he knows you will get cold and drives you around the city on his bike.

geto who’s ears are completely red when you spend the night with him for the first time ever. he made sure to kick his roommate out so he could have his complete attention on you. he cooks you your favourite meal and has your favourite rom com waiting to play on the television but deep down inside he’s busy thinking about how you look underneath all your clothes.

it’s not like you haven’t touched each other before. you find yourself often pushed against the library wall with geto’s pierced tongue in your mouth, his tattooed hand travelling under your top to play with your breasts. more than once you’ve been caught by a fellow student who had the misfortune of witnessing your very public display of affection instead of a physics textbook.

so when you are in his flat, hips straddling his thighs on his old couch, geto almost moans out loud. he watches you as you grind your ass against his clothed cock, not innocent on his side when he intentionally wore grey sweats. “slow do— fuck! slower! baby” he groans as your gyrating hips make him leak through, the friction between your shorts and his sweats enough to make his eyes roll back.

when he carries you to his bed and lies you flat, it’s like a dream come true. you pull down your shorts and stop, inviting him to do the rest. geto does not need anything more to use his pearly white teeth to drag your pretty black panties leaving it to hang around your ankle. he can’t afford to wait when all he has ever dreamed off is spread open waiting for him.

you look up to him with glossy eyes and your lip tucked under your teeth when you hear him say the words — “i have never done this before.”

confused you get up, supporting your body on your elbows. he looks away turning red at his own brazen admission, and only looks at you when you pull down his sweats to help release his girthy cock, precum beading at the tip. he groans when your much smaller hands begin to jerk him off, cooing about how good he is being for you. there’s a teasing tilt to your tone because it’s not everyday you learn your hot boyfriend is a secret virgin! you continue to jerk him off and tease him for acting tough when he decides can’t take it anymore, the way you talk to him like he’s too innocent to touch you back.

geto shows you that despite being your good boy, he can make you eat your shit eating grin when he pins your thighs down. his mouth is on your dripping cunt, tongue licking your clit in slow circles. he does not stop when you cum on his face, he does not stop to take a break when his ringed fingers enter your wet entrance, squishing and squelching echoing throughout. he does not stop until there’s a ring of your cream that parallels the silver rings he wears and the lower half of his face painted with your slick juices.

you don’t start worrying until he picks you up and holds your legs open in front of his full length mirror so he can slip his heavy cock past your spread folds and just to say, “fuck baby, wanted my first time to be in missionary looking at your pretty face but i think full nelson might be better for your bratty pussy.”

[ineedpaigebuckets]

a pazzi sickfick please!! sick azzi babied by her sweet gf

imma take care of you

an: this one's really cute🤗i like

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

the second azzi wakes up there's a scratch at her throat. she doesn't even open her eyes as she nuzzles herself into paige's warm body. her skin is hot but she's shivering and feels undeniably cold. paige's already awake, so she presses a soft kiss on azzis head.

"morning baby." her voice is cheery as usually azzi is quite the morning person. azzi just lets out a raspy groan and paige can instantly sense what's wrong when her hot forehead presses against paige's neck.

"y'okay. lost your voice huh?" she asks her hand on azzis cheek and her arm on her waist holding her close to her.

"mmmh freezing." azzi mumbles as her body shivers against paige's warm skin. paige places her lips on azzis forehead and then moves her forehead to her cheek.

"shit az your burning up." she looks down at her girlfriend. still beautiful with her big tired eyes and hair splayed all over the place. she brushes back her hair and kisses her softly.

"imma take care of you my little princess." this gets a giggle out of azzi which makes paige smile.

"imma go get you some medicine alright?" azzi just groans and rolls off of paige with a cough. when she comes back she has a box of tissues, a water bottle, cough medicine and advil, and azzis favorite book.

"kay here's these." she puts the tissue box down and hands azzi the small cup of couch medicine.

"i know you don't wanna. but you gotta take it for me alright." paige fights back before azzi even says anything about not wanting to take it. she just nods and chugs it gown with a disgusted face which is quickly fixed as paige hands her the water bottle. she drinks some and paige hands her some advil.

"take this too then we're all done okay." azzi nods and takes the advil before paige crawls back in bed and taking her shirt off so azzi can lay against her warm skin.

"me too." azzi grumbles as she sticks her hands up and paige smiles as she takes off her shirt for her. she lays on her girlfriends bare chest and smiles at the warmth.

"thanks paigey." paige just smiles and grabs her book.

"brought you this too. want me to read it to you." azzi nods as she's curled up into paige's chest like a baby.

"p you know you cant read." paige just scoffs and starts to read the book as azzi slowly drifts back to sleep on her chest.

[urfavfakeblonde]

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟʟʏ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ, ʀɪɢʜᴛ?

step-brother rafe cameron x step- sister fem!reader

warnings: step-cast, fingering (fem!rec), masturbation (fem!)

Taking a shaky breath, I slip two of my nimble fingers into my sopping panties, fingers cold in comparison to the heat of my pussy. I bite my lip, closing my eyes, as my fingers dance through my wet folds, mind playing visions of it being Rafe's fingers and not mine. It was fucked up, I knew that. Thinking of my insanely hot step-brothers fingers getting me off, but when no one was home and the house was all quiet, I couldn't help myself.

no one has to know.

So, with that, I just barely slipped them in, just enough to tease and become wetter with anticipation. Impatiently, I curl them all the way in, immediately hitting that spongy spot inside me. I whimper quietly, you never know who could enter Tannyhill at any moment. Although come to think of it, my mom and Ward went on a business trip with Wheezie, and Sarah hasn't been home in months. But as for Rafe? He was unpredictable. He could be anywhere: a party, the beach, the country club, in my room--shit!

I open my eyes at the sound of a chuckle at my door. Sitting up, my face flushes with embarrassment as I lock eyes with Rafe. "So, this is what you do when they go on a business trip," he says cooly, entering my room. He picks up my cherry piggy bank, studying it closely. "Bet you love when they hit the town, huh?" He says as he places it back down on the dresser, stalking closer. "What, are ya 'fraid they'll catch you?" He teases, sitting on the edge of my bed. "What do you want?" I whisper quietly, staring down at my baby tee. He eyes me up in down--the wet patch on my white lace panties growing by the minute while his tongue pokes out for a moment as to wet his lips. "Was gonna ask if you wanted to take the boat out for a ride but you seem preoccupied," he chuckles, his lips curving up into his signature grin. My face flushes into a bright pink, my hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Sorry," I whisper, eyes retreating his piercing gaze. It stays silent for a moment as if he is contemplating his next move. "Tell ya what," he finally says, playing with one of the rings on his finger. "I'll help you, then you'll get on that white bikini that I like, and we'll go for a ride, yeah?" My eyes shot up to finally meet his gaze. "What?" I say just above a whisper. "No, no, no, no. No." He watches me frantically try to move off the bed, turning around to look at him while doing so. He's giving me that shit-eating grin again and I feel my legs start to tremble. "No!" I try to say, but he just leans over to grab my arm. Pulling me back down on the bed, he rolls on top of me, playing with the strap of my bra under my shirt. "This is...no. This is wrong Rafe, stop," I start, biting my lip, begging for my body to stop loving this so much. He just hums, kissing my neck softly. "I'm just helpin' my little step-sis out, it's not that serious," he mumbles, now pulling at my panties. He tugs them down and off my legs, stuffing them in his back pocket. Suddenly, two of his rough fingers find my pussy, swirling them around my sensitive bud. "Fuck Rafe!" I moan, throwing my head back against my soft pillows. "Feels good, yeah?" He smirks, kissing my jaw. My legs move to circle his waist as he pushes his fingers into my tight cunt. "So fucking wet," he mutters, looking down to see his fingers disappearing into his step-sister.

"Gonna have so much fun with you," he groans, plush lips meeting mine. I'm totally getting fucked.

[crivalsduo]

holiday spirit

my final fic for @alterdnbweek! i'm so sorry it's a day late, i hope you enjoy.

Techno’s neck was stiff and his back was sore. If he could feel his arm, it would likely be sore as well but his arm had fallen asleep, pinned between Dream’s boney side and the floor. A blanket was haphazardly spread out beneath, all lumps, because neither of them had intended to fall asleep. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. The last thing Techno remembered clearly was laughing as Dream was lying practically on top of him, arguing about who was lamer.

With a yawn, Techno tilted his head left and then right, trying to work out the kink in his neck. Dream was still asleep, turned towards Techno, chest rising and falling steadily. A bit of drool had pooled in the corner of his mouth and his ear flicked occasionally. Techno smiled.

He’s probably gonna have one heck of a headache.

There was a headache trying to creep up on Techno. It was dancing around the edges of his vision. The sunlight that was streaming into the room, brightened by the fresh snow outside, didn’t help matters. But he hadn’t been drunk enough last for the headache to take hold and he hadn’t been drunk enough to forget Dream’s earnest response to his teasing. The pillow that they had tossed back and forth was shoved between them now. Techno lifted his free arm, flexed his fingers, and brushed them against Dream’s cheek. His fur-covered nose twitched but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Sorry, man, I really gotta pee,” Techno whispered as he carefully pulled his arm out from under Dream. It didn’t wake him though he curled up into himself further. Techno took a moment to toss the part of the blanket he’d been lying on over Dream before he stood. His knees creaked when he stood and he made a mental note not to sleep on the floor again. He ducked under some of the holiday decorations hanging in the archway between the living room and the kitchen as he headed towards the bathroom.

By the time he was done, hands still wet and smelling of soap, Dream was still asleep on the floor.

“Dream.” Crouching down next to him, Techno put a hand on Dream’s shoulder. The thought crossed his mind that it’d be kinda funny if he splashed some cold water on him but the look on Dream’s face last night when that confession had slipped out stopped him. Techno gently shook him. “Wakey wakey, Dream.”

One green eye opened and then the other.

“Huh…?”

Sleep was making him slow and it took him a moment to assess the situation, pushing himself up and looking around. A piece of his hear had fallen in front of his face and Techno reached out to brush it back. Dream watched him.

“I said, it’s time to wake up. You’re sleepin’ right in the middle of my floor,” said Techno, hand lingering near Dream’s shoulder as he fully sat upright with a yawn.

“Your—” Another yawn. This one was followed by a disgruntled noise. “Your eggnog sucks, Techno. I feel like shit.”

Techno laughed, doing his best to keep his volume low though it still earned him a feigned dirty look from Dream.

“I don’t think it was the eggnog’s fault, man.”

Looking over at the mug he had shoved under the bookshelf last night (it was now knocked over and pushed further back and if they had taken a closer look, they would’ve found fox fur sticking to it), Dream shrugged.

“Whatever,” he said and held out a hand. Techno took it immediately, lacing their fingers together. A bemused smile twitched across Dream’s face. “Help me up.”

Techno’s cheeks were hot and bright red. He should have known that’s what Dream meant. In hindsight it was obvious. He cleared his throat and stood, pulling Dream up with him.

“Right, right. I knew that.”

Dream wobbled a little, leaning into Techno’s side. He was leaning more than Techno thought was needed, even with the cloud of sleep and eggnog induced hangover clinging to him. A curse was muttered under Dream’s breath about the prosthetic leg before he straightened and looked at Techno. It was the perfect chance for Dream to tease him but that would mean coming very close to acknowledging what had happened last night.

“You—You definitely didn’t,” said Dream.

Both of Techno’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“Y’know what, you’re right, Dream. I did think you wanted to hold my hand.”

Now it was Dream’s turn to blush, pink and splotchy beneath the thin layer of tan fur.

“Oh my god.”

He had nothing else to say to that and Techno grinned. The fire had gone out – Techno hadn’t planned to fall asleep and so hadn’t put a log or two on – and a slight chill crept into the room. Still leaning into him, Dream was warm and Techno smiled.

“How about I make you some tea?” he asked. “It might help with your headache.”

There was a moment of hesitation and Techno knew that he was debating denying the existence of the headache that was obvious in the way Dream was squinting and his ears were pressed flat. But he nodded, loop his arm around Techno’s. It wasn’t far to the kitchen but Dream’s gait was stiff and he stopped to yawn. Techno glanced up then nudged Dream lightly with his shoulder.

“Look, Dream. Mistletoe.”

Dream’s ears shot forward and he looked up.

“What!? Why—You put mistletoe up?”

The mistletoe was hanging down in the middle of the doorway, between garlands of sweetberry branches. A few red and green plaid bows that had Niki’s distinct flair where nestled in the leaves as well. Techno vaguely remembered helping to hang the garland but if had noticed the mistletoe then, he didn’t remember. He also wasn’t that upset about it.

“It’s a tradition,” said Techno.

“It’s stupid,” said Dream. His cheeks were still pink.

Techno lowered his head just a little.

“It’s festive. C’mon, where’s your holiday spirit?”

The way Dream rolled his eyes with a huff was expected. Techno had seen that exact expression on Dream’s face dozens of times and he never got tired of the amused, mischievous glint in Dream’s eyes that came with it. The crooked grin that his scarred mouth was pulled into was also expected and it was another thing that Techno never got tired of, that after everything, he still found reasons to smile. What was unexpected was the kiss.

Dream tilted his chin up, grin still on his face, and pressed his mouth against Techno’s. It took Techno a second. A noise of surprise tried to work its way out of his throat but he pressed a hand against Dream’s side, carefully tugging him closer, and kissed him back. The kiss tasted like morning breath and old eggnog and cinnamon and Techno could have kissed him just like that forever. The slow, hesitant way Dream finally pulled back made Techno think he felt the same way.

“How’s—How’s that for holiday spirit.”

Techno laughed.

“Smooth, Dream,” he said and kissed him again.

[thenewestxmen]

I am convinced that Wade had a really hard adjustment when Logan came into his life.

After I called after Logan when we returned to my home universe, I welcomed him into that shitty apartment. The only thing I regret informing Logan of is that it was a one bed apartment with a pull out couch. The second I got home. I introduced Althea to Logan and Logan, Althea. That night as everyone was welcoming Logan, mini Logan, and I back home, I announced we would in fact be moving out. Al already sometimes pays rent, and her disability insurance and checks should cover her. Logan doesn’t have money so he will stay with me, at least until he scrapes up enough money or sobriety to get his own place. That night, Wolverine takes the floor. 

“You can take the bed, I can take the floor unless you’re feeing a little hot.”

“The floor will do fine.” He says in a firm voice. He’s pretty much too tired to argue or call me a bitch. 

As I lay awake, insomnia slapping me across my ugly nutsack of a face, weirdly the only thing I can think of is what Logan said in the Honda Odyssey. The few hours ago, Vanessa had come over, she started to brag about Dermot or whatever his name was. “You couldn’t save a relationship with a god damn stopper!” His voice rang in my ears. “Gimme the dog and talk to the girl.” He had said. What’s the point? Some boring guy at her workplace was able to land her and I couldn’t. Figures, when I met her I literally paid her to tolerate me. I have no clue why she stayed after that. I attempted to flirt, but honestly… I’m not interested. I know, I know. I was willing to go back in time to get her back when she died, I know I blew myself up too. But honestly, what is so great… not to sound rude, but honestly, I’m a world famous merc and literally unable to die, so messed up I got an amazing sense of humor. And she was a stripper and left me when things got a little rough. I chatted with her a bit at the homecoming party, but after that, my eyes wandered… to Logan. Aw shit. The guys is hot. Come one Wade, pull yourself together!

Now I’m laying on the pull out, he’s three feet from me, sleeping and snoring softly. But still even though I’m just now realizing how incredibly handsome he is, how perfect even, it’s not the first time I’ve felt attracted to him. In the void, he held my hand and decided to die with me to help me. But even after he did so, his hurtful words still ring in my ears. My stomach weirdly hurts, like a cold pit dropped down my throat. That when I realize my face feels hot, and burning teas stream down my face. This doesn’t often happen, or at least not usually when I’m insulted. But Logan’s words really hit me hard I guess, and just now, as the words sink in a bit more, they push and force the salty hot tears out of me.

“Hmm… Wade?” I hear from behind me. Logan woke up and heard me… quickly I wipe the tears and turn to face Logan, resting my head back on the pillow. I hope my face isn’t too red and puffy, even through the darkness and lighting my scars make.

“Sleeping soundly peanut?” I say in a sexual voice. Although my dumbass self forget that little Angelbaby has great senses. I can see it on his face. He smells my salty tears.

“Why the fuck are you crying?” Logan says in tired deep voice.

“Im not crying, it’s just the moonlight reflecting off of your sugary tits into my eyes, so they look all shiny.” I say, half assed excuse. Obviously he doesn’t buy it and gets up, walking over to me, and starts laying on the other side of the pull out. 

“What’s wrong bub.” Why the hell do people ask that question when I’m trying not to cry?! I just burst into tears. 

“You… I… I can’t do anything right… you’re stuck we me, in my own universe! In my shitty apartment, stuck with a nutsack faced fucking failure.” I say in gasps for breath. He just pulls me in, holding me for a moment as my chest hurts and strains. Everything’s a wreck, I don’t want this life. I don’t want to live forever, I don’t want to be a merc or car salesman, I don’t want to be depended on. Logan just hushes me.

“It’s alright…” he says. He’s awful at this comfort shit but his deep smooth voice and warm embrace is rather soothing. He allows me to cry, soaking his shirt. I cry until I’m trembling and my jaw and chest hurts. Even when I stop because of the pain, he holds me. Everything is a mess and I want everything to be all better. I’m moving and the Wolverine is depending on me for a place to live and I am a mess and can’t have a good relationship with anyone… the closest thing to one is with my blind elderly roommate who despises me. Logan rocks back and forth, hushing and humming. He will occasionally say, “it’s ok Wade…” or something. My chest starts to stop aching and I just let him hold me, letting my eyelids close. I don’t know what I’ll do tomorrow, and I’m not looking to finding out. Everything’s a mess, and it’s all my mess.

authors note: should I turn this into another fic series? This is going well, I think I could go off this into a series, idk. Sorry I didn’t post this earlier, it took a while to write this bcs I was busy.

[i-write-stories7890]

hi! you don't have to, but are you open to writing a poly! asmodeus x reader x fizzarolli?

if you are, could you maybe do a sick reader fic? thank you!

Of course!!!

Warnings: general chest cold icky feelings

I woke up and instantly there was a deep pounding in my head, I felt as if my skull was gonna pop. I rolled in my bed and reached for my phone, seeing that it was 11:30. Four missed calls from Fizz and Ozzie, shit, I slept through and missed our breakfast date.

I went to call them back, and they picked up instantly. "Babe, are you okay, where were you?" I heard Fizz ask. He sounded worried, I felt bad. I cleared my throat, noticing how hoarse it was, "I'm so sorry Fizzy, I slept in, I can meet up later though if you'd like."

I heard Ozzie interject in the background "No" he said sternly "I hear them on there, they are sick." If not for the ache in my entire body I would've laughed. "Tell them we're coming soon with everything they need" "I think you heard him" Fizz said chuckling.

"Yeah. I'll see you guys later then. Bye honey" "Byeee" after he hung up I instantly got a text

💗💙My Boys💙💗

Fizzy: Don't even think about getting up and taking care of urself

Ozzie: We'll be there in 20 minutes baby, hold strong

Okie :Y/N/N

--‐---------------------------------------------------

It was comforting to know how much they cared, but I couldn't help but feel bad. After all they were busy demons, it felt rude. I decided that whilst waiting on them I'd try to sleep. Putting on my sleep playlist, and laying there.

Not long after I heard the door click, hearing Oz hush Fizz gently. Ozzie cracked the door open and peered in, "Hey baby." He whispered gently "How are you holding up hun?" "Mmm" I groaned. "I know honey, it sucks. No need to worry though, what do you need? I have ibuprofen, Tylenol, soup, bread, melatonin, allergy relief, everything honey, ask and you shall receive my darling."

My heart was melted by his sweetness, "Can I have some ibuprofen and soup?" "Of course darling, why don't we get you to the couch, hmm?" I nodded and he gently scooped me into his arms and carried me against his chest.

Fizzy was anxiously waiting outside, on the living room couch. "BABYY!" He whisper shouted excitedly, clearly relieved to see me. He cuddled up against my face, "Are you okay babe, can I get you something? We brought ice packs if you're too hot, we can cuddle, we brought new blankets, anything you need babe."

Their thoughtfulness made me want to cry, "can we cuddle please?" "Of course doll face!" Ozzie said, excited I was letting them help. We sat on the couch and Froggy came in with a bowl of soup, some green tea, and ibuprofen. "The sick Y/N special." He said presenting the tray to me. "Thank you Froggy" I said he nuzzled onto me as I layed on Ozzies chest.

"Soo, what does my darling star want to watch, hmm?" Asmodeus asked nuzzling my hair. "Pride and Prejudice sound ok?" "You're the sick one baby, it's up to you" Ozzie responded, a light chuckle to his voice. By now Fizzy had fallen asleep on my chest, and Ozzie turned it on.

[vytels]

I keep thinking about jazzprowl in @keferon ‘s mech au and the idea of Prowl’s frame getting dissected by MECH so that they can make better mechs and the addition of Swerve in that manner. I kept asking myself, how could MECH keep Jazz so busy that he doesn’t realize this is happening to Prowl? How long would it take them to do this?

And then I was rereading the texaid story line when it hit me.

The best thing for MECH to do is to keep Jazz as separate from Prowl as possible, because clearly he’s compromised… But also he’s been to space so obviously a check up on his health is in order. And whatever Pharma was injecting into First Aid could easily keep Jazz out of it and down for the count. It’s the perfect way to keep Jazz away from Prowl.

Pharma could even tell him, “you’re fighting off some kind of space disease we’ve never seen before,” to explain why suddenly Jazz doesn’t feel so good, why he’s losing time, why he’s so cold and tired.

Also, once free of this weird drug, Jazz coming to the realization that the corruption at MECH runs further than he thought. He was always creeped out by Shockwave and Pharma, but didn’t think they’d go as far as to try to murder him so that they could dissect his boyfriend and he’s livid that he wasn’t able to see that, that he wasn’t able to keep Prowl from harm, and that they’re running on borrowed time now to save Prowl and Serve but he’s not even in a state to control his mech with those drugs still pumping through his veins.

What does Jazz do now? Who helped him get out of the drugs? First Aid? Hot Rod? Blurr?

How far was MECH willing to go to cover this up? Were they planning on telling the public a fake story? Mech Pilot Jazz escapes from new hostile aliens, saved by MECH but dies due to an alien virus?

Now just imagine First Aid finding out that Pharma is doing this to another person now, that it’s not just him, and out of everyone it’s Jazz.

OR Blurr trying to figure out how to save Swerve, somehow stumbles upon Jazz during one of Pharma’s “check-ups” and shit hit the fan.

OR Hot Rod hearing that Jazz is back, that he had two robotic alien life forms with him that sound a little too familiar and now no one is allowed near Jazz to find out what really happened… and obviously, Hot Rod can’t stand for that.

Or maybe even a mixture of them all?

The possibilities are so endless and I’ve been chomping at each one for the past hour and UGHHH I hope you all like this little addition I’m adding… I’ve been reading lots of this au and so many different stories and it’s just all so amazing, so I thought I’d poke my toe in the water to test it out

[firefly--bright]

hc request: snow angels with jean 🥹🩷

OOO HOHOHOH this is so CUTE im keeping this a modern au because thats what i prefer to write :') no gender/pronouns used for reader! :D

masterlist in pinned post! ❅ requests for headcanons are open!!!!! ❅ enter my taglist ❅

❅ ok ok so i imagine him being very begrudgingly into it. like its an incredibly snowy day right, and sasha connie and marco (and you, of course, by association) had dragged him out of bed.

❅ and his whole face is tinged a little red. he's wearing the first sweater he could find which just so happens to be the one his mom made for him, along with a big puffy black coat, a green checkered scarf and bright yellow gloves. not his first choice, fashion-wise, because all the colours are clashing, this looks fucking terrible, but you convince him it looks good enough to have fun and he has no choice but to agree.

❅ anyway. there's like small flakes of snow on his hair and at the corners of his eyes, and its a nice excuse for you to brush his hair with your hand. his nose is red. his lips are a little chapped and everytime he breaths it creates a small puff of air as a proof of his living. and hes building a snowman, with whatever materials all of you could find outside. no you dont have a carrot, who has the foresight for that? you make an executive decision to stick a very thin stick into the centre of the big snowball for his nose. jean complains about your art direction but gets distracted by the fact that connie's building boobs for it.

❅ every picture marco takes, jean is in the corner just standing. arms to his side. like slenderman. no smile. no pose. he's acting as though he hates this which pisses connie off just enough for him to fuck with jean more than usual.

❅ goes without saying but connie starts a snowball fight. and jean being ever-competitive HAS to strike back and now its a whole war but its mainly just jean and connie shouting at eachother while throwing poorly-formed balls of snow at eachother with terrible aim

❅ BACK TO THE MAIN POINT. during this whole. fight. both of them get really tired but now jean is fully smiling, because he's having fun, dammit, and you marco and sasha had gone inside somewhere during their feud to make hot chocolate and warm up some cookies because none of you had had anything to eat yet

❅ and connie immdieately runs inside the house when he hears you guys calling the both of them for food. and jean's all "HA YOU LOSER I WON. FUCK YOU. YOU THINK U COULD CHALLENGE ME?" but he doesnt follow connie inside

❅ and after a few minutes you decide to go out looking for him. his back is facing yours, and his foot is moving over the snow, creating a shape you cant really see. and you call out for him, and he just turns and waves you over to him

❅ turns out he was drawing both your initials in a heart with his foot :( and you HAVE to tease him. obviously.

❅ "youre so sappy i love you." "sappy? im doing the bare fucking minimum," "right." "youre the sappy one. making me hot chocolate and shit." "i made everyone hot chocolate. youre not special." "youre saying this after i made this artwork for you?" he says, smirk on his pink lips, faux offence twisted into his eyebrows and his arm finds it's way across your waist. "sorry, youre right. we should get this framed." "you think youre so smart, huh?" "you set a pretty low bar for it." "oh yeah?" and he starts fucknig tickling you because hes so fucking predictable, right, and you obviously end up loosing your already fragile balance and falling on your back into the snow.

❅ at first he's really apologetic but then he sees you smiling and rolls his eyes before collapsing next to you, cold ice pinpricking his skin despite the layers he wears.

❅ "you destroyed the heart i drew," he says. he wants to win this fake-fight. dumbass. "thats your fault." "right, blame me for your misjudgement-" "you tickled me!" "excuses, excuses." "im sorry, jean, for destroying your heart-" "my beautiful artwork," "- your beautiful artwork that deserved to be framed." "in a shrine. add that part." "no."

❅ its so cliche. he looks at you, his head turned to your direction, and sees your own breath fog up the sky and he thinks hiding his affection is reduntant because youre going to find a way to sneak it out of him somehow.

❅ and then you stretch out your arms, indenting the snow, waving them up and down. "im making new artwork." you say, and he loves you so much it makes him warm all over, imitating your motions with his long ass limbs, sounds of the snow crunching under his movements filling his ears along with your soft laughter.

❅ and after youre satisfied with the unseen outcome of your work, he complains about not being able to feel the tips of his ears and nose, and he helps you get up. you kiss his nose as compensation, and he kisses your forehead in return. "happy?" he asks, and you hum.

❅ "wait, we have to sign our names," you say before crouching down and writing your name under your snow angel, and then write his name under his, creating a heart after his name. he smiles softly after youre done, winding an arm around your shoulder to keep you warm but pretends its because "im so weak and hungry," to which you call him a drama queen. he spares a look behind the two of you to see the snow angels and cant help but wish it would never melt away.

also heres a moodboard. i couldnt help myself.

thank you for the request!! ive never. experienced snow before so im sorry for. any inaccuracies im going based off of my rom-com watching knowledge :') hope you liked it!! <3

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic-again , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable , @candleohappiness , @zombiefiedskeivy

[murderdogwater]

How I think the Bachelors and Bachelorettes act when their sick:

Haley: A menace. The type to spit medicine at you like a camel, she'd whine about feeling awful but refuse to take any kind of medication. Don't even try to hide pills in things. She will find them and pick them out. Probably also the type to fake being sick when she was younger just to get princess treatment.

Maru: The type to not tell you she doesn't feel well, and you only find out when Harvey has to carry her back to the farm because she passed out at the clinic. She's probably pretty chill about medicine, but she'll get restless and want something to do while she's on bedrest. But keep an eye on her, or she'll be up trying to make another robot ai nurse or something.

Leah: One of the few who's probably being serious when she says she doesn't get sick. If she does, she'll be pretty chill and will stay in bed, probably sketching, until she's better. If she's sick, she won't stay that way for long, unless it's a real injury, then she's also pretty chill.

Penny: She's probably pretty self-sufficient. She can't exactly taste with how stuffed up she is, so she doesn't know how bad her food tastes. She'll probably eat and sleep a lot and explain it away, saying that Pam left her alone a lot as a kid, so she took care of herself. She'll probably cry if you take care of her.

Emily: She says she doesn't get sick, don't listen to her. Maybe worse than Haley about medication, because she insists that she needs natural methods to heal. She probably gets really delirious and tries to fix it with crystals and burning sage. Just make sure she gets what she needs and give her something to do in bed, and she'll wear herself out.

Abigail: Another one who says they don't get sick and is actually right, more likely to get injured or get food poisoning from her weird diet. Either way she’s pretty chill, and the biggest problem she'll have is boredom. Give her some soup, medicine, and attention, and she'll be fine. Probably plays video games until she feels better.

Sebastian: A BABY. Maximum level baby boy. His two favorite things are soup and tea. He gets sick often and stays that way often. And I feel like Robin is the type to baby him to shit, so he's pouty and needy for attention. Honestly, it will probably get worse if you keep him in bed, so it might be better to make him go outside if possible so he can actually get some sun.

Elliott: He's dramatic but very grateful if you take care of him. If he's really bad, then he'll start talking in Limericks that don't make sense until he falls asleep. Not exactly a baby, but certainly a drama queen. Will complain about his hair being messed up while he's in bed. Might feel better if he goes back to his cabin like a dying woman in a Victorian novel.a

Shane: Oh god, if you think Maru is bad about not telling you when she feels bad, then Shane is 10000 times worse. This man will be throwing up, coughing his lungs out, sneezing loud enough to wake the dead, and still tell you he's fine. You gotta call Jas and have her beg him (from a distance) to lay down and take care of himself. After that, he's chill about everything except his diet, is pissed he can't eat pizza all day but will eat soup and some vegetables if you tell him to.

Alex: Doesn't get sick and is right, but if he gets injured, then he wants princess treatment. He needs his pillows fluffed, his meals hot and on time, and DEMANDS cookies and attention. Evelyn probably spoiled him a little bit as a kid because it was so rare for him to get sick. The only bright side is that he'll gladly take medication without complaint as long as it's followed by a cookie.

Sam: Rarely gets sick, when he does he's a self regulater. If he's really sick, he'll sing softly to himself. His colds come with nightmares, and he'll probably wake up a lot. Cuddle him and make sure he's okay after, and he'll be okay.

Harvey: You'd think that either Harvey would be the type to not get sick or be a big baby. And you're wrong either way. Harvey is sickly and is a horrible self regulator, but he's very grateful for you taking care of him and will be the most cooperative patient ever. Will make dad jokes the whole time. Is very sweet.

[broidobe]

𝔯𝔲𝔡𝔢

requested! thank ya!

☾90s axl is cold with a quiet, shy reader he’s drawn to, but after being cruel to her one day, he makes her cry and apologizes, showing a softer side as he comforts her☽

☾warnings: emotional abuse, verbal aggression, alcohol use☽

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

you don’t understand why he’s like this, why he acts so hot and cold with you. most days, it’s like he can’t decide whether he wants to be a total jerk or just leave you alone altogether. he doesn’t let you in—doesn’t let anyone in—but something about you makes him keep you close. you’re different, and he knows it. your quietness, your softness... it’s not something he’s used to, but he’s drawn to it, in a way he’s never been before.

most days, he’ll snap at you for no reason. a rude comment here, a sharp word there. it’s like he’s testing you, trying to get you to react, to show him something. you never do. you just take it, because you don’t know how else to be. you’re not like the others, the ones who fight back or laugh it off. you stay quiet, always, like you’re not sure how to exist in this chaos that surrounds him.

and he hates it. he hates that you won’t push him back. but more than that, he hates that you never seem to care. you’re different, and he can’t figure you out.

then, one day, it all snaps.

he's drunk—too drunk, as usual—and you’re sitting there, just trying to get through another tour night. you’re tired, and the tension in the air is unbearable. you’ve been quiet for too long, and axl notices. he leans in, his words slurred, his breath too close to your face.

“why are you always so damn quiet?” his tone is harsh, cutting, like he’s trying to provoke something. anything. “what’s wrong with you? you think you’re better than us?”

you flinch, the sting of his words settling in your chest. but you don’t say anything. you never do.

"god, you're such a fucking ghost," he mutters, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “don’t you ever get pissed off, huh? do something.”

you can feel your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. it's too much. the insults, the coldness—it’s too much to take today. finally, a tear slips down your cheek, and before you can stop it, another one follows.

he stops, his expression shifting from anger to something softer, something like guilt, but it’s only for a second.

“shit," he murmurs under his breath, taking a step back. he runs a hand through his messy hair, looking at you like he’s just realized what he’s done.

you can’t control it anymore. you cry. the tears are hot, embarrassing, but you can’t hold them in. not anymore.

he sighs heavily, cursing under his breath. you don’t look at him, don’t even dare to. you just keep crying, the soft sobs shaking your shoulders.

then, before you even realize what’s happening, he’s there. axl. standing in front of you.

he doesn’t know what to say. he’s not good with this—he never has been. but he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight, pressing his face into your hair.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. “fuck, i didn’t mean to…”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hand trembling slightly as he wipes away a tear from your cheek. his usual arrogance is gone, replaced with something raw.

“i’m an asshole. i know that. but... don’t cry, okay? please.”

his words are soft, genuine for the first time in a long time. he doesn’t want to hurt you. not really.

you nod, sniffling, still not sure what to make of this sudden shift. but you don’t pull away. you can’t. not when he’s holding you like this, like you actually matter.

[desired-misery]

Chris launches himself backwards— not fast enough to escape the white hot bolt of—

fear. Not—

Nothing in the chamber. Nothing tearing through his throat—

Chris trips over a body because Leon isn't one. Leon's eyes are opening, rust-red lips and teeth bared in a silent snarl. Everyone else steps forward, weapons raised—

“Leon!” Piers’ incredulous shout breaks everyone's instinctive reactions.

Stops Chris' primitive impulse to cover his neck, his brain still filling in what should have happened if Leon had a spare bullet left—

Stops Bravo from shooting, anticipating a hostile, context telling them a dead man moving is a bioweapon threat to eliminate—

And maybe Leon stops not because he recognizes any of them, but because he cannot possibly have the strength. He certainly doesn't have the ammunition. God, how the fuck is he alive—

Chris scrambles back, gets a hand over Leon’s shaking one, on the pistol— holy fuck, it's jammed, not empty— to disarm him. To keep Leon from moving because his gasp of air is so shallow, so ragged— how the fuck isn't he dead— if he isn't dead yet, surely he is on the way, he has a knife shoved into his chest where his heart should be—

“Hey,” Leon protests, his voice horribly hoarse, failing to keep Chris from taking his pistol away. “I need that.”

“Fucking hell, Leon!” Chris is relieved, absolutely, but he can't stop himself from feeling a wave of anger, too.

Leon’s eyes are dull, only half open. He always looks exhausted, but his eyes look sunken in, the skin around his eyes as dark as a bruise. Literally, deathly pale—

Chris pulls off his helmet so Leon can see his face, so Leon can stop his scarily weak attempt to get Chris' hands off of him, to sit up because Chris is terrified if Leon moves, he is going to finish bleeding out—

“Leon, Leon, stop! You're hurt, stop, please.”

It takes way too many seconds for Leon to focus on him, to hear him. For his gaze to refocus, settle on Chris’ face, for recognition to hit. Leon stops moving, letting his right hand drop back into his lap. His left has stayed by his side, limp.

“Jesus! Leon, how the fuck—?”

“Get him?” Leon asks— and this isn't the first time Chris has seen Leon speak through a blood-filled mouth, but this is even more unsettling because it is clotted, spills over his lips in clumps.

“Shoot him in the back. For me.” Leon eases his head back, grimacing. Showing the thick, dried bloody path that dripped down his throat, to his shirt. There is a dark stain around the knife hilt, smaller than Chris would initially expect—

“What?” Chris asks.

“Who?” Hunnigan asks in Chris’ ear, tone sharp.

“My partner. His knife,” Leon says, baring teeth. “Backstabbed— well, front-stabbed me.”

“Oh?” Hunnigan asks.

Chris does not know her real well, but he only needs to hear that singular word to know that Hunnigan is about to handle whatever unlucky sonofabitch thought they could get away with this.

Chris shifts his hand to Leon’s good shoulder, finding it hard to not stare at the fucking knife sticking out of Leon’s chest. No wonder they all thought Leon was dead— besides the knife in him— his chest is barely moving.

“Stay super still for me, Leon, you can't move right now—”

Leon’s smirk is faint, almost nothing more than a ghost of a twitch. “No worries, not moving. Don't think I can.”

“You don't have to do anything right now, Leon, just—”

“I can't, Chris. Can't feel anything below, well…”

Chris stumbles on what to say. Leon’s smirk grows.

“Damn, relax. Probably good I'm not feeling anything. That shit really hurt there for a while.”

Chris’ hand finds Leon’s, feels how cold and stiff his fingers are. He glances down. Under the blood, the skin is a dusty purple. Hypoxic.

“You really do like to shoot first, ask questions later, huh?” Piers asks, stepping close and kneeling down so Leon can see him, too.

Leon’s smile is barely there, but Chris can tell he made an attempt. “I, ah, don't usually have friendlies around me to worry about.”

Piers smiles back, badly. “Not if you act like that, you won't.”

“I don't want them,” Leon says. “My supposed friendly did this to me.” He takes a gulping, but still shallow breath. It is taking so much effort to talk. “Thought he was coming back to finish me off.”

Chris cannot help the shudder that runs down his spine. Leon would have killed him if his gun didn't jam. If he had even a little more strength to eject the round properly by not limp-wristing it. Not able to say that, Chris just lifts the pistol and angles it so Leon can see the case caught on the slide.

“Fuck,” Leon says. He clumsily touches the brass, then closes his eyes. “The last time that gun jammed like it, it saved me from being shot.”

“You’re the luckiest unluckiest man I've ever met,” Chris says.

The corner of Leon’s mouth twitches.

Piers is standing there to meet him, half-blocking the way to where Leon is—

“I can do it, Chris—”

“No, I will.”

Piers’ frown is unsteady. He has had less practice than Chris has; Chris won't make him to spare his own feelings. But when Chris steps past, Piers follows. A few strides behind, but still he follows. Chris does not have it in him to tell Piers not to.

It is part of the job. That's how it is. Eventually, something is going to take you out—

And classic Leon, not going down without a fight. Chris should expect nothing less. He counts seven BOWs in the hallway leading up to where Jacob is standing with two others from Bravo. They are in a rough semi-circle facing the body slumped against the wall, wedged against a beat up locker. Chris has to step over three more BOWs piled at the body's feet—

Chris hears his breath catch in his chest despite trying to prepare for it, for seeing familiar dirty blond bangs obscuring Leon’s face. His head is tilted down, knees to his chest, one arm in his lap. He is wearing dark clothes— nondescript combat gear, rare for Leon. All the good that did him.

“Damn it,” Chris breathes. As he kneels, he taps his earpiece to switch back to Hunnigan’s line. Kneeling doesn't give him much better view of Leon’s face, but that's him. Dried blood covering his chin, from—

Fucking christ, there is something sticking out of his chest— body armor, Leon was even wearing body armor this time and it still didn’t save him. Dark, patterned. Knife handle. BOWs don't use knives—

“Poor bastard got stabbed. Still went down swinging,” Jacob says, somber and reverent.

“Captain?” Hunnigan prompts in Chris’ silence.

“... we found him, Hunnigan. He— he didn't make it.”

Her silence only lasts a few seconds.

“You checked for a pulse?”

Chris takes a breath. “No, he's—”

“Check.”

Chris winces. “Hunnigan, he won't—”

“Confirm for me, Captain Redfield.” Her voice is flat but still strong. Better than what Chris can manage right now.

It must be standard operating procedure for her. Chris swallows. “Yes, ma’am.”

He pulls off one of his gloves, scanning over Leon’s body again. No other major injuries he can see. Other than the knife to the chest. It is a little left of center— when did someone have time to stab him in the middle of all of these BOWs? Unless Leon had been stabbed earlier and it took a while to bleed out. God, what a way to go.

Still, Chris is very glad he isn't infected. It is not a fate he wishes upon anyone. Taking another steadying breath, Chris presses two fingers to Leon’s neck.

Leon twitches. His hand jerks—

And Leon’s bloody handgun, drawn from his lap, presses into Chris’ throat as the trigger is squeezed by a red-stained finger.

[tyrianludaship]

you know, i really dislike how people have little or no empathy over minor pr0shippers and/or harass them because it's obvious they didn't exactly choose to be that. unrestricted internet access at a young age can lead to some really disturbing rabbit holes that the child or the parent - are none the wiser to.

i first got exposed to gore and h3ntai when i was 12 and 11 respectively, and during the time, this was celebrated and encouraged because that was the culture of the spaces i was in (mostly anime and true crime). It takes a village to raise a child, and the parents should not exclusively be to blame; especially when they are illiterate to the online world.

i don't know, i just think people should actually care about minors being in inappropriate circles and put more responsibility on the adults in those circles. saying minor pr0shippers should've been "normal" and treating them terribly instead of giving them guidance doesn't benefit anyone and all it does is make the minor feel more emboldened to stay. it's just victim-blaming at that point and does more harm than good.

[budugaapologist]

still dont see how so many people say that dawntrail is poorly written in comparison to other expansions like. what, did you realize you had to learn about a new culture and immediately not care anymore lmao? you've done it before, was this one not white enough for you?

genuinely i think more people should do side quests during msq so idk you can form a heart about the characters you're interacting with if you struggle with that and understand the land better so when impactful shit happens your illiterate ass can actually read and have empathy. theres no excuse for this.

if you can't handle storybuilding and character introductions from the expansion that feels like stormblood and shadowbringers had passionate gay sex that got one of them pregnant and birthed a beautiful daughter they both love and care about then idk what to tell you, maybe youre just lame and can't read. best of luck with that.

[batsplat]

Hello! I have a question about tyre pressure penalties. Why do they pop up so often and why now? It didn't seem to be a big topic a few years ago, what changed? The tyres, the bikes, the rules?

Thank you so much for answering

yeah, the rule was introduced in july of 2023, so it is still a very new thing! and... well, it's basically the bikes and the rules that have changed, whereas the tyres haven't changed as much as they need to. here's the tldr on why the rule was initially introduced:

so I'm afraid the actual explanation is going to be a bit longer and more complicated - but here's the most basic summary. if you don't read anything else, hopefully this will give you a general sense of what is going on here:

last few years: more aero, ride height devices, faster bikes = more stress on the tyres, more heat, higher tyre pressures

when you follow another rider, your tyre pressure may rise very quickly; when you're in clean air it'll get lower

too low tyre pressures = tyre may degrade which can be safety issue

too high tyre pressures = bike buckles under you, makes overtaking harder and crashing more likely (also competitive disadvantage)

controversy in 2022: leaked michelin document showing several riders weren't above minimum tyre pressure level. rules just hadn't been enforced -> teams demanded change

proposed rules in 2023 for minimum tyre pressure: seen as very strict + harsh penalties were criticised. the penalties were reduced, rule when introduced was still controversial

particularly heated discussion when it looked like it might influence the title fight, with both pecco + jorge receiving a warning

rules changed for 2024, made somewhat more lenient than initially proposed, but clearly it remains an issue

okay, that's the short version. let's give a little more context. discussion surrounding this proposed rule introduction really got going in 2022, as a result of a controversy surrounding the lack of enforcement of the existing rule. we've had tyre pressure rules since basically forever... it's just that michelin wasn't actually going to the stewards and saying 'hey, you've got to penalise these riders'. the thing is, all teams are chasing low tyre pressures to gain a performance advantage. you're trying to get the tyres to operate in the ideal window of grip level - if you're setting them low, you're attempting to ensure that you won't be screwed over if your rider ends up in a race situation where the tyre pressure suddenly rises outside of that level. see this from 2022:

so, again, to be clear: the existence of tyre pressure regulations isn't new, it just hasn't been enforced. the article I linked to was from a piece after jerez 2022. it's about how a leaked document from michelin confirmed that several riders, most notably pecco and ducati, had essentially run their tyres in an illegal manner but would not be penalised for it. this had been common practise for years and years, but at last other manufacturers were complaining about this state of affairs - which stemmed from a "gentleman's agreement" between the manufacturers and michelin not to disclose any breaches. for obvious reasons, this is not ideal. it's a) unfair from a competitive standpoint, and b) quite possibly dangerous. which also doesn't really make this bit ideal, does it:

and here's the leaked michelin document:

'only 0 laps' slay

so basically it was the manufacturers themselves that had kinda had enough of the status quo and provided the initial impetus for change (ironic, given where the rest of this post is going). the situation also wasn't helped by how michelin had told journalists like a race earlier that infringements were "very rare", which obviously they were not

which, okay. seems straightforward enough, right? teams are chasing performance advantages - but they should be penalised if they're pushing things too far. tough for them if higher tyre pressures are making them slower! the issue is... well, these fluctuating tyre pressures and how often they end up getting very, very high is actually a massive issue in and of itself. it doesn't just make bike performance worse... it makes the racing worse. from another article at the time, that outlines how few overtakes there had been in recent races and how this was a problem riders up and down the grid had talked about:

basically, the idea is that if you end up following another rider too closely, your tyre pressure might suddenly rise to the stratosphere. (obviously, you saw the reverse of that in assen - marc worrying his tyre pressure was too low and having to fall back behind diggia to try and get it up again.) it's described as quite a radical difference, not just in terms of performance (making it harder to overtake), but also in terms of handling... and ultimately safety, because suddenly rising tyre pressures can make crashes more likely. I'll give a bunch of quotes from riders here, but I'll also summarise them afterwards

and to get slightly more technical with this, here's how bastianini described the issue:

so, tldr for the above quotes:

even tiny changes in tyre pressure can make a massive difference in how the bike handles

following a bike closely can cause the tyre pressure to rise enough to make it start buckling under you, making it a lot easier to crash. specifically, it becomes really hard to brake in a controlled manner

it's easier to lock the front when you're braking in these conditions (with a smaller contact patch between tyre and ground), so you're compensating by pushing more when braking, with less grip - that's what makes you more likely to crash

this makes overtaking harder, essentially relying on bikes in front to make a mistake. unless you have a clear speed advantage, you may be stuck in a pattern where you gain but then have to drop back for tyre pressure reasons

it's very hard for the teams to figure out beforehand how to set the tyre pressures, not least because obviously it depends on what sort of race situation their riders will be in

and that's the problem in a nutshell. low tyre pressures are a problem for safety reasons. high tyre pressures are also a problem for safety reasons, plus come with the added downside that they have contributed to making the racing a lot worse in recent times. it's tough for teams to predict how they should set their tyre pressure, but some teams had been deliberately going high risk (low pressure) for a competitive edge - even if their riders weren't always aware of it. and the rule wasn't being enforced

so, let's tackle the obvious question: why has this become such an issue at all specifically in the last few years? I'm going to basically just summarise the linked article for this, though obviously I'd recommend you go read that in full:

the michelin front slick tyre has always been sensitive, though it's gotten particularly bad these last few years

the racing is both faster and closer now than it used to be, so these small margins have become more important

the out-sized aerodynamics have reduced wheelies and led to greater downforce during braking, which means you have more load on the tyre. to explain a bit more (from here): tyres are being pushed down by weight of bike + rider, the engine generates friction, which determines grip - and also heats the tyre up. more heat = more pressure

rear devices: dropping the rear of the bike on straights for reduced wheelies and to "adjust the angle of the downforce aero". so basically you're sticking the tyres to the ground, you're keeping the bikes super low, there's more weight, you're putting a lot of stress on the front to do the front to do the braking and you're braking from higher speeds. all of this raises the temperatures enough to be a problem

slipstreaming: typically a massive part of racing in motogp, as it gives the rider behind an advantage when following. the problem is if you have aero that's creating such a massive vacuum that it's essentially sucking the rider in... creating a lower-than-atmospheric pressure that makes it super hard to brake. because low pressure = good when you're on the throttle and trying to go fast, by extension low pressure = bad when you're attempting to brake and go slow

I hope this is like... more or less clear - we could get more technical with this and I'd advise you to follow the links I've provided, but I'm trying to keep it relatively straightforward. also, obviously I'm extremely not an expert on this either. basically, it's aero and ride height devices and sheer performance that are putting a lot of load on the tyres. increased stress means more tyre pressure fuckery and threatens the integrity of the tyre. high tyre pressures are dangerous. low tyre pressures are also dangerous. not ideal. these michelin tyres also fundamentally were not designed with aero and ride height devices in mind (they've been working on a new front tyre since 2019). there's a few different reasons why michelin hadn't been able to roll out more suitable tyres, including a) covid-caused delays, b) the reluctance of riders to actually test new tyres (preventing enough data from being collected), and c) the reluctance of motogp to force the issue by having enough testing and bullying riders into using the tyres. all this has meant that now, in 2024, we still don't have a front tyre that's really suitable to the actual bikes we have

so, what to do? now, obviously *casey stoner voice* maybe you should simply ban literally all this shit. strip off every single wing, chuck out everything that even looks like it might be applying for 'device' status, take a hammer to anything that wasn't on these bikes twenty years ago. also, just slow the bikes down! while michelin isn't responsible for most of this and being a tyre supplier in a motorsport is a notoriously thankless job, they are the primary reason why everyone is smashing lap records left right and centre this year. get rid of all of it. racing was better twenty years ago. return to the glory days, bring back the real sport *end casey stoner voice*

given they're not going to change the tech regulations overnight - and the proposed next ruleset (while far from perfect) does include changes that theoretically should help address this problem - it was felt like a more immediate change was needed. so over the course of 2022, there were more and more discussions about how you'd more firmly clamp down on teams playing fast and loose with the existing tyre pressure rules. initially, the new rules for tyre pressures and how strongly they'd be penalised were supposed to be introduced pretty early in 2023, with the introduction of a unified monitoring system that ensured these teams didn't like... just pretend their own problematic numbers were down to their inability to measure their own numbers

these proposals were met with massive backlash - and I think you should be able to guess why. these tyre pressure rules are about mandating a minimum level... but a lot of this post has been about why high tyre pressures are also a massive problem. as we've established, different race situations can also lead to very sudden changes - so if you're setting it higher to begin with, it might end up being so bad you cause a lot of crashes:

the other big complaint was about the harshness of the proposed penalties, which were initially going to be instant disqualification. eventually, once the rule was finally introduced in mid-2023, it was with lighter penalties:

another quirk was that, initially, it was checked through randomised post-race inspections. this is because they didn't want to just rely on the new system they'd installed in the bikes, but also wanted to manually check afterwards - which they didn't have the capacity yet to do on all the bikes. even with this change, the rule wasn't exactly universally popular. one complaint, expressed here by zarco, was with the idea that low front tyre pressures even are as dangerous as they're being portrayed as:

and again, the argument that this is bad for racing:

the more moderate version of this complaint was aired by aleix - the rule itself was fine, but the exact application was too strict:

this situation is the definition of lose-lose-lose. it's bad for riders because they're constantly having to monitor tyre pressures, running the risk of being penalised and also racing in a dangerous manner if their tyres aren't exactly right - plus racing in a dumb manner if they have to adjust how they're conducting their race to what their tyre pressures are doing, for instance by dropping back into the pack to get back to an acceptable level. it's bad for michelin because everybody's constantly complaining about this rule and their tyres - and while this rule they've insisted on doesn't necessarily appear to be the best solution for an imperfect situation... of course they're not the main party to blame for the imperfect situation in the first place. and it's lose for the viewers because, well, it makes the racing processional and at times extremely daft

now, there was obviously plenty more discourse about this, but the controversy really got going again late last year - at the height of the title fight, when both jorge (after thailand) and pecco (after sepang) ended up being slapped with warnings, with a penalty to follow with another infringement. obviously, given how close the title fight was, the idea that it might be decided by something this dumb was appealing to literally nobody. martin was particularly outspoken after sepang about how it was impacting the racing:

it was very visible in the sepang sprint how jorge was adjusting his tactics to this race situation - he just couldn't race normally because of the tyre pressure calculation they'd made not matching to the race situation. on the flip side, bastianini was given a warning after the race for his low tyre pressure... but well, he won that race, and it was obviously worth it for him to low ball it, given the absolute lack of championship implications and how the rules essentially gave him a freebie. which, if this is a safety rule, how is that a reasonable way of regulating it? you're allowed to chew up your tyres in a dangerous manner but just this once, as a treat?

as ever, jorge was backed up in his complaints by aleix:

make engineers less anxious 2k23

also, I do just need to quickly bring in another thing jorge said, because it's still very funny to me

no?? don't do that?? just because pecco also has a warning, that does not mean you can take all the risks you want?? how does that even WORK?? what if pecco plays it sensible and he doesn't get a penalty??

anyway, of course neither of them ended up being penalised - though diggia lost a podium at valencia. with plenty of talk again at valencia, obviously it was a concern going into the next season, especially given the penalties were supposed to be escalated so that a rider would be disqualified at first offence. the organisers ended up changing their mind on this rule last minute - and now we have a mere 16 second time penalty instead. more importantly, the actual threshold was made a little more lenient:

relatively speaking, the situation this year... well, it could be worse. there's been a few penalties here and there, like fabio's in the jerez sprint - which obviously was a complete chaos race where fabio from pee five million on the grid really wouldn't have been expecting to run in clean air. (four other riders were also penalised there.) marc's assen one is particularly memorable, given it included those bizarre moments where marc let other riders ahead of him to get his tyre pressure in an acceptable range. that still wasn't enough and due to (according to marc, anyway) the bastianini contact he ended up just falling afoul of the laps you need within the allowed margins. of course, none of this is ideal. there's a bunch of ways in which it makes racing worse: for safety reasons, by making overtaking harder, by making it harder for riders to adjust to unexpected race situations. there's also not really an easy solution and no party here is 100% blameless. hopefully michelin will at least construct a new tyre that makes all this a little better. hopefully we can one day fire ride height devices into the sun

[chompe-diem]

random insane headcanon but i firmly believe albin takes exclusively cold showers.

[indiiglow]

House doesn't wear the white coat because autism