#NO BODY TELL HIM OKAY?

[valscodblog]

.............

people of tumblr. i have something to say.

I HAVE BURNT MY FAVORITE PAN :C

i was tryna make some rice. (scary rice guy on tiktok dontfind me please, this aint even tiktok-)

AND OMFG

i forgot to TAKE OFF THE FUCKING HIGH HEAT i used to get my water boiling and uhmmmm.....

i burnt my pan :C

why was i using a pan?

IT'S MEXICAN RICE AND MI ABUELA'S ABUELA'S RECIPE OKAY?!

T_T i need some sleep tbh-

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

...Turns out gay sex actually was the solution.

(This is basically a redraw, come read the real deal over at Tiger Tiger)

[quadrantadvisor]

Thinking about DP x DC Jason Todd being a revenant again. Here's my scenario. Jason gets called that by some ghost. He's like "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He's heard the term before but he doesn't know any actual lore. He googles it. He scrolls past the Leonardo DiCaprio bear movie. He opens the wiki. Sees the words "animated corpse" and gets a chill diwn his spine. He starts reading the first section.

He closes Wikipedia.

That night he has a nightmare that his family buried him, again, this time with precautions. He wakes up in his own grave, full of stones, too heavy to move, to scream.

[happypeachsludgeflower]

So, in PIDW, there was obviously wife plots that could bring back the dead (mushroom body being one of them), and since we know Airplane is a hack that reuses concepts over and over, there’s probably multiple wife plots that could work, so like, where’s the PIDW fics where Liu Qingge somehow comes back to life, memories of Shen Jiu trying to save him intact, and goes to hunt the asshole down so he can repay his life debt, and along the way accidentally clears Shen Jiu’s name of all his crimes and now everyone is convinced Shen Qingqiu is a saint.

[gods-perfect-idiots]

something something blood-soaked hands cradling your face something something

anyway here's the post btw

[sapphicmuppet]

I’m sorry as of now in the series Jace Stardiamond they could never make me hate you. Bro has been so stressed this year literally let him be evil as a treat. He’s a single mom who works two jobs and loves his kids and never stops with gentle hands and the heart of a fighter. He’s a survivor.

[moongothic]

Seen a few people too many discuss the concept of Dragodile Baby 2 and my hot take is that there's no way in hell Crocodile would ever detransition just to go through nine months of horrible dysphoria again, let alone go through pregnancy ever again (or allow Ivankov to even touch him, what if they died and weren't able to trans Croc's gender again afterwards? Hell naw, ain't worth the risk)

But this leaves an opportunity for a Funnier Option:

Dragon wants another baby? Sure, but it's his turn to carry it >:)

[vaguely-concerned]

varric giving rook his shaving mirror to keep kind of hits different when your rook is a trans man I have to say

[the-bi-space-ace]

See, I hold back when I write. It could be far angstier than it is. I could be handing out forehead kisses left and right. Forehead kisses as someone cries and bleeds after a battle. Delirious from blood loss and pain and needing reassurance. Forehead kisses when they know their squadmate is going to die. A parting gift. One last way to comfort them, to remind them they’re loved.

I’m just saying I could make things more painful than they already are.

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[thomaskong]

Remembering how devastating triage was when it hit peak angst and suddenly getting very scared for where 4 minutes could be headed

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 5.

Previous part. Masterpost.

Content: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an inhuman whumpee, pet whump, whipping, blood, physical abuse, withholding of food, training, torture, intimate whumper, carewhumper, mentioned pet death, tell me if i missed something

Lord Teelo didn’t strike. 

He lowered his arm, eyes never straying from holding the creature’s terrified gaze. The room reeked of blood, now streaming down the lord’s fingers in a warm waterfall. He worked hard on pushing his fury back, taking it under control as many times before. He was in control. He would show it, careful and persistent and levelheaded. He would make sure it remembered the lesson forever. The crop was not meant for punishments, it was too short, too soft – he hadn’t meant to punish it. He was going to be a kind and gracious owner. It had left him no choice!

He opened the door, finding the redheaded guard still in the corridor.

“Get a proper whip,” he ordered. “More chains – gods damned handcuffs, whichever idiot thought of leaving it like this?! And a knife, scissors – or whatever, something to file its atrocious claws.”

The guard stared at him, not in the face – at his arm. Lord Teelo felt it – the consistent drip-drip-drip of his blood. He didn’t feel the ache yet. Nothing but the quiet, cold fury he couldn’t wait to unleash at the world. Haltingly, the guard started, “Should I bring someone to take a look at–”

“I have told you what you should do,” his voice came out as a hiss.

“Yes, my lord,” the guard saluted and hesitated only a moment before running down the corridor. 

Lord Teelo closed the door with a loud crash. He paced inside, steps echoing around the room, as the pain slowly started to radiate out. He hated it. Oh how he wished he could slice the thing’s skin just this moment, not waiting for anything and anyone. He picked up the crop once more, stoped before the creature – it cowered to the very corner between the wall and its cage, never letting its eyes away from him. Oh, now it was looking. It dared to look! 

“You think yourself smart?” the lord hissed. “Think you did something good for yourself? Oh, no, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret this so much.”

The pain seeped into his consciousness with every heartbeat, radiant and nauseatingly familiar. He held a handkerchief to the cuts until it filled with deep red. He threw it away – it landed in a wet disgusting lump on the table, by the bowl of wet disgusting meat. Oh how the lord had tried to be a nice host, how he had tried to accommodate this, this– 

“Damned, ungrateful, hateful beast!” Lord Teelo roared. The glass of the bowl nearly slipped from his bloodied fingers when he grabbed it, and then shattered to thousands pieces to the side of the creature’s head. Its dinner fell onto the floor, useless. Oh, it wouldn’t get any, it would have to work, to beg for any crumb from then on – it would regret, regret it so much!..

The door slid open soundlessly after a short knock, letting in the heavy footsteps and the clanging of metal. The lord turned on his heels, facing the guard. “And why in the world have you not brought a damned healer!” he hissed. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding out!”

The guard blinked. “But you have–” 

“YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME?!” 

He was struggling to breathe, chest heaving with effort. The blood was still warm down his arm, still bright on the broken glass and light wood of his floors. How could the idiot not understand!

There were chains in the guard’s arms and a leathery length of the whip. Lord Teelo snatched it and demanded, “Chain it up!” The guard hesitated, opened his mouth. “NOW!” 

He did. The lord watched as he came to the beast, careful with his steps, cautious of it. It squeezed itself deeper into the corner. Lord Teelo could see it shaking. He was delighted to see it shaking. The guard reached out, the first cuff prepared, and Lord Teelo watched from a step away as it lifted its hands up, close to its chest. Its teeth were bared, pupils wide and eyes wider. It tried saying something, but what came out was only a mess of sounds with no meaning. 

The guard squeezed its arm even as it tried to avoid it. It whined and fought back, tried getting out of the grasp, tried pushing him away, tried and fought and struggled as he cursed under his nose. Its claws went through the skin of his palm ripping out a sharp hiss. It managed to raise its hind leg as the cuff clicked around its wrist, its claws scratching against the metal in an effort that only delayed the inevitable. 

Lord Teelo had little patience left. He stepped forward, connecting his heel with the middle of the creature’s tail. It yelped, flinched backwards – its head connected with the wall, and before it could regroup the second handcuff was in place. After that, restraining its legs was only a matter of time.

“Turn it around,” the lord ordered. Chains clang as it fought in an ever increasing panic. “To the wall, yes… yes, just like that.” The locks rattled, forced closed. The guard let the key fall onto the ground, forcing the creature to kneel. It hid its tail between its legs, whining as its head was pressed into the wall. “Is the chain short enough? Will it be able to move?”

“I don’t think so, my lord,” the guard answered. 

Lord Teelo played with the whip, trying it out. “Good. Go fetch the healer– wait. I need – something sharp, something – to secure on its tail. See how it hides it? I need something it can’t hide from.”

The guard looked puzzled. He eased his hold in a test, and the creature threw its whole weight backwards, fighting the chains. They held. Kneeling, with its tail hidden and only back visible, it looked strikingly like a human. “Perhaps clothespins, my lord?” It wasn’t what he had in mind. What he wanted – it wasn’t that. Not this easy, tame solution.

“It would work,” he drew out. He would go to the smith when he had time. He had an idea, oh, that would be a genius idea. “Just this once."

He flexed his left arm and rubbed his right. It hurt as all deaths, but it had stopped bleeding. He failed to crack the whip the first time but managed it the second, inches from the creature’s back. The guard bowed, taking it as a sign to leave. 

The creature mumbled and mumbled more, sounds a meaningless mush falling from its tongue. If Lord Teelo was generous, he could see it as an apology; he would not even entertain the possibility of giving in to it, of course. 

The second crack was right by its ear. It flinched and curled up further but couldn't hide.

It wailed when the whip connected with its back – so loud, so quickly, taken by surprise. Lord Teelo bared his teeth in a smile and struck again, violent purple already flowering on the gray of its skin, and struck again without waiting – three, four, six, twelve hits in a row, as it flinched and writhed and cried out.

He paused afterwards, and saw as it tensed, first, its whole body shaking with the effort of breathing, hiccupping in what sounded almost like sobs. He waited, watching how it trembled more and more. He let it marinate in the anticipation, the fear coiling and coiling with no release, the stinging of its sore back growing as its patience ran thin. 

When it raised its head, just barely, as if to look, the whip snapped through the air again. 

It screamed out. He didn’t give it time to recover. 

The lord hit it with no pattern, pausing and continuing at his leisure, until his arm grew heavy with pain and the creature nearly silent. Lord Teelo could only hear its labored breathing, air forced out of its body with every strike. Its back bloomed with purple that gave way to red when the skin opened, the new lines covering the rainbow pattern in an unstructured, repulsive mess.

Oh, he nearly pitied it, trembling pathetically in the corner. Then he rubbed his arm and the sharp pain was enough to remember why he didn’t. 

He struck for the last time, lazily, with his left, and then a few more for a good measure. When a polite knock announced the guard’s return, he felt pleasantly tired, like after a good work out. He called out for the man to enter. 

The guard did and the healer, an old woman the lord knew for most of his life, followed in. She looked the room over with stony, unreadable expression, and Lord Teelo met her gaze with a nice enough smile. “You’ve got your toy,” she stated and that was all the attention the creature got from her. 

She made a quick enough work of the wounds: cleaned and bandaged them up after applying that miraculous numbing cream the lord appreciated since early childhood. The creature would appreciate it even more, he thought, glancing at the pathetic thing. It had shifted at some point, stretching its legs just a bit but keeping its head hidden. Its body shook violently, trembling so much it in itself looked tiring. 

“Should I look it over?” the healer suggested, all business. 

The lord huffed, “What would the point of a punishment be then?” 

The woman looked him over with that annoying, unreadable gaze. “Call me whenever you change your mind,” she bowed and left when he dismissed her. 

Lord Teelo tried the clothespins with interest, forcing the spring to coil and then letting it go softly around his finger, just a tad, until it started hurting. “Good enough,” he concluded finally and got up. 

The creature flinched when his boots stopped by its form but didn’t try anything. “Poor thing,” he drew out and crouched, ran his fingers along its back lightly, brushing fingertips over the painful ridges of future bruises. Its breaths hitched, but it didn’t make a sound. “And all you needed was to not act like a brainless brat to avoid all this. You have no one but yourself to blame, silly thing,” he told it. It didn’t answer, shivering under his touch but not attempting anything stupid. 

“But maybe you can learn,” he hummed and moved his hand down to where its tail started. It tensed even further, if it was possible at all. “Let’s just make sure the lesson sticks, huh?” It curled up even further as he tagged on its tail, releasing from under the creature’s body. He flickered it back and forth and rubbed between his fingers and was satisfied when it sobbed and shuddered but remained motionless otherwise. 

“Like this, yes,” he muttered. With the softest touch of his second hand, he stoked its head. “But look at me now. Eyes on me,” It didn’t understand. He caught a fistful of its fur and tagged. “Eyes on me.”

Too drained to resist, it lifted its head as he guided it. “Eyes on me,” he demanded again, and it either guessed or truly learned – its gaze settled on him, focusing to the best of its ability – and, oh, what a pathetic mess it looked, eyes bloodshot and wet in ways he’d thought only a human's could be, dark lines from where it pressed into the floorboards marking its cheeks. There was something red around its mouth – did it bite itself, the poor thing? 

Lord Teelo clicked his tongue, smiled softly and released its fur. It settled back instantly, curling up again. Its tail remained in his hands. 

He picked up the first pin. 

It must have assumed at first that he was just playing like he had been, – at least, it didn’t seem to tense up too much, nor expect the sharp pain when he released the spring around its tail. It shuddered, head whipping up, staring at him once again. He smiled. Picked up the second clothespin. 

It tried to get its tail free – oh, it tried as much as it could without hurting him, but he tightened the grasp and played with the pins as it couldn’t help a new whimper, and hushed it and urged it to sit still. “That’s for you to remember the lesson better,” he told it pleasantly. It must have cried, body shaking again, and tried to kick just once, the movement stopped halfway through by a short chain. 

Lord Teelo wondered how many pins would be good for it – should he go with the whole set the guard had brought? He settled on five, at the end, a nice even number not even halfway through what he had. He was feeling rather merciful and forgiving, and it sounded just so pathetic. 

He called the guard in to urge it into the cage when it was done. It didn’t even try fighting, following the man's tagging and pushing until it was inside, drawing its limbs close and curling up to fully fit. Nearly immediately, its fingers itched towards the pins, human-like thumbs ready to work on the problem. Lord Teelo snapped his fingers to get its attention.

“No,” he said, words dripping with finality. He reached through the bars and tagged its tail outside. “The clothespins stay here for the night,” he told it. It probably didn’t understand – there was so little thought in its eyes. He let go of it hoped for its sake it understood what he meant. He didn’t want to have to punish it so soon for their lack of common language. 

When he went to sleep, the shaky breaths and the rare clanging when it tried to settle more comfortable sounded like a lullaby to his ears.

In the morning, his arm stung mercilessly and unendingly, and no melodies of birds and gentle sunrays could make his mood better. He turned lazily, letting his eyes fall onto the cage. The creature was curled inside of it, eyes shut tight and ears flickering restlessly. Its tail fluttered too, freed at some point from the pins, one of its hands curling around it protectively. 

Lord Teelo felt stuck between endearment and irritation. He moved and the cuts on his arm ached, and irritation won. 

“Hey… you,” he called and realized he hadn’t come up with a name. He should think about it as some point, he decided grimly, and banished the thought of the last pet he’d named, back in childhood. That was a just a cat, a stupid spoilt creature with too much attitude. The lord remembered the way it looked, painted red and unmoving, after crossing one too many lines. 

The creature didn’t move at his call, either. He picked up an extinguished candle from his bedside table and threw it towards the cage. “Hey!” 

There was no reaction. With an undignified groan, he forced himself on his feet and towards the cage. He rattled the key across the bars, the way that always seemed to get the creature’s attention.

It didn’t react. It was outright ignoring him! 

Had it learned nothing?!

He reached through the bars and tagged on its tail, finally getting some response in return – it flinched weakly and grimaced. Slowly, its eyes fluttered open, but didn’t settle on the lord. They looked as if through him, unfocused and dizzy, and a pang of worry cut through the just rage when they closed back and its chest heaved, struggling for breath. 

Something was wrong.

He reached through the bars and towards its forehead, forgetting for a second it wasn’t a human. The skin under his fingers was blasting hot and sickly wet. It moved closer to his fingers, all but nuzzling against him. 

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is) (unless something goes wrong and it takes me too weeks to get myself to write something. I'm so very sorry about the delay!)

@isikedmyself878, @fraugustends, @otterfrost, @fuchstastisch, @3-2-whump,

@the-lone-youth, @will-o-the-wips, @catnykit, @granny-aaravos, @mj-or-say10

Tell me to be tagged in the new parts!

[qcoded]

Got a fanart of this AU the other day and decided to draw a small revamp to The Collector's design :P

Might draw some more lore related stuff for this

[fujii-draws]

still thinking about your post about your dusknoir and how the option of doing Anything But What He Did was always available to him yet he chose to walk along a path that only ended up hurting himself and quite literally all that he held dear to himself.

I think he really beats himself up over it because there's something so gut wrenching over the idea that a safer, better option that wouldve guaranteed a good outcome to you and those you hold dear, yet your narrow scope of reality and the fear that crippling you if you had stepped out of your designed path (assuming he did not already do that when adapting to the father figure ruse that he tried to pull) had you by the neck to the point where even the option that 'things did not have to go this way' was already not possible, and you had no choice but to go on. and now, dusknoir had no one but himself to blame for the cracks and strains he forced upon the two kids who looked up to him. the option to be with them, to save them, to shield them from him, yet he took it upon himself to be the knife that stabs them in the back when they willingly embraced his shine and the venom that reeks into their bodies when he tells them how much they had meant *little*, if *nothing* to him at all. he could've raised their spirits high, yet he proceeded to slam them down into reality and teach them the harsh lesson that nothing good comes out of a stranger with good intentions, even when that stranger made you feel as though you deserved to be loved. that you did not need to be so afraid, and that there was no shame in who you are. he was their light, and he burned so bright that he left them tearing and weeping in the darkness.

Sinnoh.

[batsplat]

Jerez 2006

[It] was certainly within the four walls of that gym, between rep after rep on different muscle groups, that the 'LorenShow' was born. There was a time when only Rossi used to put on a show, but even that has become a rare event. 'Now he only does it on certain occasions,' says Jorge. 'The World Championship was losing a bit of sparkle. Other riders were trying things but they weren't funny, especially in 125cc. There was a time when Melandri tried to imitate Rossi but he never managed to make it as funny.' Jorge had been thinking for a long time about how he could offer his fans something extra after a win. A lot of people saw him as too serious, but he wanted to show that he cared about them, that he enjoyed what he did and that he was affable and good humoured, as well as imaginative. He needed an ingenious plan because he had a clear objective: to celebrate the World Championship title in style. 'We wanted to do it in style, go mad,' recalls Dani Palau. That seemed a long way off, back in the summer of 2006, but once the crises of Turkey, Shanghai and Le Mans were behind him the dream of beating Andrea Dovizioso was alive again.

Strictly speaking, the first episode of the 'LorenShow' was at the Spanish GP in 2006. It was his first victory in the 250cc class and Jorge got off his bike, took off his helmet and started shouting at the fans. 'It was pretty spectacular and it was the first time we used the word "LorenShow",' he recalls. 'Palau and I used to put together a ten-page magazine of our own after each Grand Prix and on the front cover of that particular edition we put a photo of my celebrations and the headline [in English] "Welcome to the LorenShow!" That was awesome, really different. I have always been creative and I fancied doing something special after I won, so I decided to give it a try!' The design of the magazine, by the way, was similar to GQ. 'Well, not similar exactly. We kind of copied it! We were worried about getting into trouble for copying it but I hope they don't hit us with a lawsuit now ... it was only for us!' he laughs.

March 2007

After his victory at Losail Jorge pretended to skip like a boxer, as he'd done for so many hours in the gym with Marcos. It was a spontaneous, intuitive celebration and an early turning point for his season. After such a morale-boosting performance during and after the race, why not celebrate all his victories from now on? 'In Qatar I did the skipping-rope thing but I never thought that in the future I'd be using props to celebrate my victories!' The preparation that went into each episode of 'LorenShow' was a simple but elaborate process. Generally the original idea would come from Jorge and, often with the help of his computer, Palau would fill in the details. It became something of a team effort at Motorsport48, where almost everybody began to join in the fun. Everybody except the boss: Dani Amatriain kept his distance. He didn't like or dislike the celebrations but he preferred to leave them to Jorge as a bit of innocent fun. Out of the blue came another idea, this time from Marcos. Once again, it was an idea born in the gym. 'You are a warrior. You have to reclaim the championship, right? But what kind of a conqueror doesn't have a flag?' Jorge's eyes began to twinkle. 'It has to be something really visual,' Jorge told Palau, taking on the idea. 'Imagine that in each race I stick a flag into the ground, as if I have conquered that land. Like Christopher Columbus when he arrived in America!' The design process was short, with Jorge's X-fuera logo the obvious choice, set on a black background - the colour used by pirates. And written in English, so that it would be understood all over the world, not just in Spain, would be those now famous words: 'Lorenzo's Land'.

The day of its first unfurling soon arrived. It was the Spanish Grand Prix at Jerez, known as 'The Cathedral' by local fans. Dani Palau headed for partisan territory - the section of track that features the 'Angel Nieto' and 'Peluqui' corners, where he would meet his friend if he won the race. 'I had goosebumps. You should have heard the noise from the crowd when Jorge stopped!' he recalls. There were 140,000 people packed into the grandstands at Jerez that day and they had been treated to an outstanding 250cc race: 'la carrera de los cuarenta y dos adelantamientos' ['the race with forty two overtakes']. Jorge Lorenzo savoured the moment. As he had done in 2006, he removed his helmet, got off his bike and punched the air to celebrate his second victory at Jerez. Then the flag appeared by his side. He took it and drove it deep into the gravel. Jerez had been conquered, the first circuit to be claimed as 'Lorenzo's Land'. A few weeks later he won again, in China, and again he planted the flag. However, unlike Jerez, this victory was his first in Shanghai. Nobody was going to stop him now.

"Now what's happening with Lorenzo? Oh, he's going to plant the flag, I think. Here we go! Or he's going to throw the flag. He's going to do something, but, eh... All the script we have in front of us, all the timings, goes out of the window when Lorenzo wins a 250cc race... so you can just, rustle up your papers, any scripts you've got, what's coming up next, disappears, because he delays everything. There we are. Plants the flag..."

Le Mans 2007

Lorenzo, who designs his own logos and comes up with fun things like the pirate flag he sticks in the sand at the circuit where he wins to "announce to everyone" that he has conquered "that land" , says that preparing for these celebrations is just another way of coping with the hard training he does and, above all, having the best time possible. "Looking for ideas for the parties I have at the circuits encourages me to win ," he said yesterday after his excellent victory over Dovizioso.

The Mallorcan, who did not hesitate to admit his mistake on a line and apologize to Dovi for the push he had given him ( "I'm very sorry, I went out too wide on a curve, I wanted to regain verticality too soon, get back on the right line and I crashed into him" ), yesterday came up with nothing better than to dress up his soulmate, Dani Palau, as Jorge Lorenzo, with whom he shares the entertainment of festive designs and games. Palau appeared on the lap of glory and tried to get his two-and-a-half-litre Aprilia and, as they had agreed, Lorenzo told him to go away, that the bike was his and that he was the owner of the winning machine. "We wanted to make a joke, implying that the double, which was him, Dani, represented the Lorenzo who had fallen on Friday and that the real one, that is, myself, was the one who had won the race."

Mugello 2007

Jorge was coming up with more ideas for celebrations than he could use, and that was probably a good thing because some of them would have got him into more trouble than they were worth. Like the one that involved him wearing an Andrea Dovizioso mask. 'We've still got the mask but Andrea would have had to do something really bad to me to warrant getting it out ... though he'd better ‘watch it!' smiles Jorge. Another one that failed to get past the ideas stage was for Valencia, the final race of 2007. Jorge had already claimed the title and, after being criticised all year for using the 'Lorenzo's Land' flag instead of the Spanish one, planned to go completely over the top, using not only the Spanish flag but dressing up' as a bullfighter. Maybe it was a good thing he only managed seventh. The celebrations he did get to use became ever more elaborate and meticulously planned. He would scour the circuit for the best comer, with the best camera angle and the best view for the fans. Jorge had decided that each celebration should have something to do with the country he was in, and in Italy a friend, Jordi Ohva, who worked for Dorna [the commercial and television rights holders for MotoGP] gave him an idea. 'In Italy they've nicknamed you "Spaniard". The commentator on Italian television has started calling you that.''"Spaniard"? Why?''Because you are like a gladiator and that's what they call the main character played by Russell Crowe in the movie Gladiator.' Maximus Decimus Meridius was a Roman general born in Merida, Spain. He lived in the second century and since this was the second year of domination by a Spaniard in the 250cc class then what better way for Lorenzo to celebrate victory in the Italian GP than by dressing up as his namesake? 'In fact, the idea of doing something historical came after watching 300 with Marcos,' explains Jorge, 'We watched the film again with Palau, the three of us talked about it and we decided we wanted to do something related to the Battle of Thermopylae. It was while we were looking for a King Leonidas suit that we came across a Gladiator outfit. That coincided with me finding out what [Italian television commentator] Guido Meda was calling me.' The wheels were quickly put in motion. like any good media relations manager, Pere Gurt sourced an exact replica of the costume worn by Russell Crowe in the film, which was owned by an agency in Madrid. It cost 600 euros a week to rent and the sword was extra. It was kept in a corner of the garage at Mugello, where Dani Palau devoutly guarded it from the inquisitive eyes of journalists who were already wondering what Lorenzo had up his sleeve if he won this one. On race day Palau headed for the comer where they'd agreed to meet if a miracle should happen. Jorge was starting from 20th on the grid, but he still had his sights set on victory. Everybody knows what happened next. On the big screens around the circuit, Palau watched his friend slide into the gravel after colliding with Bautista. He jumped onto his scooter and raced to fetch him, sword, breastplate, helmet, 'Lorenzo's Land' flag and all. The Italian fans spotted the props and, despite Jorge's popularity there, Dani could hear them laughing and shouting insults. The mediocre can be unforgiving when a winner falls from his perch. 'The preparations were perfect, but unfortunately the race wasn't!'

Catalunya 2007

You have to be very confident in your abilities to appear on the starting grid, having previously asked two friends to dress like you, to wait for you at a strategic point during the lap of honour and to take out some guitars so you can emulate your favourite band in front of 112,600 spectators. That was how Jorge Lorenzo celebrated his fifth victory of the season at Montmeló, giving a concert on the track and another one off it, microphone in hand, as a tribute to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and to make up for his fall at Mugello a week ago. This time, the Mallorcan needed two stunt doubles at his side for his performance, and those who dressed as him were Dani Palau, his webmaster and the same one he used at Le Mans, and Ricard Cardús, a CEV driver and Carlos' nephew.

Looking back on his performance, it could be said that the most critical moment was the start, when Thomas Luthi had taken the lead on the first corner. 'Por Fuera' did not back down, he lived up to his nickname and made an epic outside turn. That was the only thing that really cost him, or so it seemed from the sidelines, because he later said that it had been a difficult race. Maybe he said that because he still had in mind the blunder in Italy, that fall on the last corner when Álvaro Bautista overtook him. Whatever the reason, he was exultant and at the end of the podium ceremony he dared to take the speaker's microphone to address the public. "Did you enjoy the show?" he asked from the top of the podium. And he continued: "I know that some of you liked me and others didn't, but I don't care. You are Spanish like me and I love you! Thank you."

The trio completed a recce of Montmelo on Thursday and Friday and performed a rehearsal at the corner of choice, in front of the stadium section. I told them, "When we're playing here, I want you to jump around like the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Go on YouTube, have a look at the videos and learn the dance moves," ' recalls Jorge. 'But the bastards ignored me!' For one magic moment Jorge, Dani and Ricky were no longer Lorenzo, Palau and Cardus. They weren't even three Lorenzos, dancing and singing like maniacs in front of 100,000 people. They were Anthony Kiedis, Flea and John Frusciante. Only Chad Smith was missing on drums, otherwise they would have been the real Chilis. 'I wanted there to be four of us, like the real Chilis, and I was going to ask Ricky's older brother Jordi to join in but there weren't any more leathers in my size. Also, getting a drum kit onto the track would have been a nightmare!'

Donington, Assen, Sachsenring 2007

After Catalunya came the British GP and before travelling there they went to dinner with a racing friend, Xavi Ledesma - the owner of the Fortuna Team hospitality unit and one of Jorge's closest friends in 2005, as well as being the organiser of the Copa Aprilia when he first started racing Xavi told them that the tradition in England was to drink tea in the afternoon. No sooner said than done. They went out and bought a tea tray, complete with teapot, cups and spoons. Palau planned to sit at a table at the Melbourne Loop, dressed as a waiter in a tuxedo and crash helmet. All Jorge had to do was turn up, rest his feet and have a drink. Oh, and win the race. Unfortunately, the final and most crucial part of the plan started to go wrong in the warm-up because, as is well known, rain is as traditional at Donington as tea. Despite the heavy downpour, Jorge produced a great performance - he was having the best wet race of his career. 'Shall I go out or not?' thought Dani halfway through the race. His buddy was running in second place behind Dovizioso. He had to have faith. 'If you have any doubt, something is bound to go wrong,' says Jorge. 'Whenever I have felt sure I would win I have won, but if there has been any kind of doubt I've lost, come second, or something has happened. That is what the brain is like.' And just as Palau made his mind up and went to load up the scooter with props, Jorge hit the deck. That was one cuppa that was hard to swallow. Jorge's next celebration was enjoyed by the Spanish fans, although it was on a Saturday rather than a Sunday. The Dutch are a bit different in everything, even their racing, and since 1949 the TT at Assen has always taken place on a Saturday. Jorge knew exactly what he was going to do if he won. He wanted to copy the thousands of locals by riding a pushbike. They rehearsed their routine at two or three different comers. 'This place is best. How far will you ride the bike? Will you be able to cycle in boots?' Every minute detail was taken care of. 'We'd practised in that area where Valentino sat when he won the MotoGP race, the bit that looks like a target. I was going to leave my Aprilia and the pushbike would be in the middle of the circle. We thought of it before Rossi!' Suddenly, he changed his mind. On his return to the pit garage he realised that there was a stage, all set up right next to the track, because just by the final chicane that leads into the start-finish straight there is a VIP terrace. It was the perfect place - and not only that, there was a television camera directly opposite.

'We could sit down and have a drink,' Jorge told Dani. The fact he'd missed out on his cup of tea at Donington a few days earlier still irked him, so it was all hands on deck. The owners of the terrace had to be consulted and asked for permission. Initially they weren't too keen because there are no fences there and it is easy for people to get out and access pit lane. For that reason, a huge deposit has to be paid to hire the area, which the circuit organisers retain if there are any problems. In the end they realised it was a Lorenzo celebration and they went along with it. This time Jorge backed up his plans with a dominant victory. However, having left his bike propped against the fence before climbing over the tyre wall and on to the terrace, he was swamped by punters taking photographs and the television cameras lost him in the melee. 'On top of that, the bar owner was a complete opportunist and he got a bunch of people to hold up an advertisement! It was a disaster.' Even though not much could be seen on the television, it was clear that Jorge's double had returned and that they'd gone to have a drink together. But why? Jorge was happy to provide the answer in pare ferme. 'After the crash at Donington, somebody [Dovizioso] had suggested I was getting nervous. So I sipped on a herbal tea.' Some time later Dani Palau insisted that the initial idea was to drink a glass of water but, as at Le Mans, Jorge was thinking on his feet and he was eager to hit back at Dovizioso. 'Sometimes that happens to me. I get really good ideas on the spur of the moment. Other times I really have to think things through for them to work out. But sometimes I get a flash of inspiration.'

Jorge finished fourth in Germany but there were no plans for a celebration even if he'd won. He was worried about the joke wearing thin. 'You have to keep people guessing. It is good to have an element of the unexpected. If we did it every time it wouldn't be funny any more. The truth is that I like things to be complete and maybe I would have continued the celebrations race after race but I let them convince me. It was good to have a break.' The summer holidays were approaching and they wanted to leave the fans gagging for more. To be fair, I have to say that I can't always put on a big celebration because I need helpers and Palau didn't come to every race. For the ones outside Europe we had a much smaller group.' There were no celebrations in the Czech Republic either, but this time for a different reason. Nobody at Motorsport48 was in the mood for a party. Dani Amatriain's assistant, Esther Serra, had just lost her brother, Marc. Jorge won but conducted a silent parade of his now obligatory 'Lorenzo's Land' flag in honour of the family. 'The problem with the celebrations is that it gets harder and harder to come up with something original, with meaning, that isn't just plain stupid,' says Jorge. 'Ideas are finite. We had something planned for Portugal but I'd prefer to keep it to myself - I might use it in the future. We also wanted to do something with animals but are they allowed on the track? We planned to get Datil, my mum's dog, a set of made-to-measure leathers but imagine if we brought him out and he had a shit on the track! That'd cause a scene!' Jorge fell about laughing as his imagination took over. 'It's a shame Marcos doesn't come to more races because we could dress him up as Shrek! Ha, ha!'

Misano 2007

From that moment on, Jorge defended his first place, riding alone and maintaining a calm margin over the second, who ended up being the Japanese Aoyama, after first catching his teammate Kallio, who fell next, and then Héctor Barberá, who added his third podium of the year. Lorenzo is now 50 points ahead and celebrated by doing a lap of honour dressed as a Roman gladiator. De Angelis is second after finishing a disappointing fifth in what was his Grand Prix.

Jorge toyed with the idea of wearing his new outfit [the gladiator costume he had been mocked for at Mugello] if he won at the GP of Catalunya but eventually decided that revenge is a dish best served cold and it was better to wait. The season would give him plenty of opportunities to settle the score and the Italian fans would have no choice but to bow down before him like a Roman general. Every great film has unforgettable lines that are often repeated by film buffs. This one from Gladiator suited Jorge down to the ground. My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius . . . commander of the armies of the north . . . general of the Felix Legions . . . loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius . . . father to a murdered son ... husband to a murdered wife ... and I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next. 'What a well-chosen phrase!' Lorenzo must have thought. Italy owed him one and he was going back to collect his dues. It wasn't to be in that first race on Italian soil, but he was determined to get his revenge in the second. He rented the outfit again, waving goodbye to another 600 euros, but this wasn't about the money. This was a question of honour. He didn't know the circuit, because there hadn't been a GP there since 1993, and although he had visited Misano once, when he'd signed for Derbi in 2002, he was only 15 then and not old enough to actually ride. None of that mattered now, because he went out and won. And on top of that, Dovizioso broke down. Jordi Perez and Cheni Martinez raced out onto the track to dress their man. They'd already discussed with Race Direction and the television directors where the best place would be for the celebration in terms of safety and maximum exposure. Jorge didn't want to take the outfit off - not when he stepped on to the podium, or when he sprayed the champagne. He even kept it on for the press conference. He clearly wanted to recoup his investment, but above all he wanted to enjoy the moment. He felt like the king of the world. ' "Now THAT was legendary," Guido Meda told me.' "

Sepang 2007

Dovizioso responded to remain in Lorenzo’s slipstream as the duo were caught by KTM team-mates Hiroshi Aoyama and Mika Kallio, plus Hector Barbera. The five battled until the penultimate lap when Dovizioso’s wafer-thin title hopes were ended as Mika Kallio took him out in an out-braking move. Hiroshi Aoyama inherited the lead and kept it to the flag from Barbera and Lorenzo. As Kallio remounted to finish fourth ahead of Tomas Luthi, Andrea Dovizioso remounted to cross the line eleventh. Meanwhile Jorge Lorenzo was celebrating keeping the 250cc world championship in a boxer’s gold-coloured gown and gloves, and picking up a fake championship belt in parc ferme.

Jorge won his second 250cc World Championship at the Malaysian Grand Prix with one race to spare, to top off an outstanding 2007 season. And what better way to celebrate in style than by looking way back to the very first race of the year in Qatar, when Jorge recovered the 'eye of the tiger'? His antics in 2007 had made him the leading contender for the title of paddock showman left vacant by Valentino Rossi in a season when the Italian had little to celebrate. It's clear by now that Jorge is up for a challenge and a second 250cc World Championship title was enough of an excuse for him to stake his claim, as the leading heavyweight in 'motorshowbusiness'. On this occasion it wasn't actually one of his own ideas, but he made it his own as soon as it left the lips of Marcos Hirsch. Having started the season training like Rocky Balboa and trying to recover the 'eye of the tiger', he took the title in Malaysia (coincidentally a country the famous Italian novelist Emilio Salgari referred to as the 'land of the tigers' ) and there was only one way to celebrate - as the new CHAMPION OF THE WOOOOOORLD! That box in the corner of the garage at Plulhp Island contained a story all of its own. Jorge and Marcos's initial idea was to set up a boxing match between the two of them, in which Jorge would knock Marcos out. The idea was that I had to beat a heavyweight. And boy is he heavy!' laughs Jorge. When I'd dressed as Jorge at Valencia the previous year, the message was that he had grown up,' explains Marcos. 'This time it was a case of demonstrating that he was capable of anything. Even knocking out somebody twice his height and weight, like me!' Another of Jorge's ideas was for Marcos to grow his hair like Don King, the world's most famous boxing promoter. In the end the celebration wasn't exactly as Jorge and Marcos had planned, partly because the Brazilian trainer was unable to make the trip to Malaysia.

The final idea came about after a conversation between Jorge and Marcos after which the 'celebration panel' of Jorge, Dani Palau and Pere Gurt set things in motion. They went on the Internet to download information about the Clint Eastwood film Million Dollar Baby and then researched other famous boxers like Mike Tyson, Evander Holyfield, Oscar De La Eioya and Julio Cesar Chavez. Once they had decided on a look they set about sourcing the outfit. Esther Serra was sent to a fabric shop in Barcelona, which is where they encountered their first setback. They didn't have any gold fabric for the hooded cloak - only black - and if that shop didn't have it, it was difficult to imagine anywhere else that would. But necessity is the mother of invention and somebody suddenly remembered that the covers used to unveil Jorge's Apiilia RSW250 at the start of the season had been gold. Problem solved! Now it was a case of putting the whole outfit together. They'd found a blue cloak in a Barcelona boxing shop, and picked up a gum shield at the same time. There were some fruitless trips to fancy dress shops. It was time to get the family involved... Pere Gurt called his mother, Rosa Casas, and her friend, Carme Armengol. After much protest, which fell on deaf ears, the pair reluctantly accepted the assignment and, as a result, MotoGP ended up with two more avid fans - to the point where they would get up at 5am to watch Jorge race in Australia.

A world championship belt needed to be found at the same time, so the team got in touch with the Spanish Boxing Federation (FEB), who recommended 'Charlie's', a specialist shop in Madrid. Bingo! Not only did they have a belt, they also had a pair of golden gloves. The only problem was that the belt featured the Dutch flag, but Esther wasted no time in having the red, white and blue colours replaced with a logo designed by Dani PalaWeb that read: 'Loren Show II'. In the end Jorge didn't use the gum shield, but there's a little story about that too. When Juan Llansa saw it he said there was no point: 'That is a shit gum shield. You need one made to measure!' Juanito knew what he was talking about - he'd not only seen plenty of riders use them over his 20 years in motorcycle racing, but also his daughter, Zaida Llansa, was the 2001 Kata [a form of martial arts] World Champion. As soon as he landed in Australia he looked on the Internet for a martial arts shop near Phillip Island. He bought the silicone, warmed it in boiling water and made Jorge bite it for a made-to-measure gum shield. Lorenzo still decided not to use it for the celebrations, but Juanito saved it just in case Jorge decided he needed one for MotoGP. 'He never wore one in 125cc and 250cc but I've saved it just in case he really needs to grit his teeth in MotoGP!' Llansa laughed. Everything was prepared as quickly as possible because there wasn't much time. Jorge quickly became impatient: 'Pere, how's the cloak coming along?' 'Don't worry about it.' 'If it's going to be shit just leave it and we'll think of something else.' 'Trust me. I don't doubt your work, so don't doubt mine.' It was almost time to leave and everything was ready. Cheni Martinez picked up the outfit and went to meet Jorge at the Hotel Barcelo-Sants gym in Barcelona for a dress rehearsal. He had to try everything on before leaving for Melbourne. In the car on the way to the airport Jorge received a call. It was Pere. 'How is it?' 'Pffff. It's not that bad.' Pere Gurt hung up with a smile. 'We've done it,' he thought.

The box remained unopened in Australia, of course, but in Malaysia the surprise was unleashed. The hardest-hitting World Champion in racing was about to be crowned and the character of Rocky Balboa represented the strength he'd displayed to overcome his own limitations and fears. Jorge Lorenzo had not only clinched his second world title, he'd proved to himself and to the world that he could do anything, as a rider and as a person. And then he and the clan treated the public to their most memorable celebration yet. His friends, headed by Juanito Llansa, waited for him with the boxer's outfit that Lorenzo wanted to wear to mirror his battling performances on the track that season — the cloak, gloves and belt of a World Champion, made out of gold fabric and with a logo on the back, hand sewn by Pere Gurt's mother and her neighbour. It simply read: Loren Show II. World Champion 2007. The 'Lorenzo's Land' flag had fluttered at seven different circuits during the year, but this time it was the Spanish flag that an emotional Lorenzo drove into Malaysian soil, in the final turn of the Sepang International Circuit. The whole act had been Jorge's tribute to 'the eye of the tiger', the winning attitude of Rocky Balboa that he'd adopted as his own. All the knock-out blows to his rivals during the season had given him just cause for celebration. Celebrations are often forgotten the following day, as soon as the outfits and props have been returned, but not this time. The World Championship gown and gloves will always remain part of Jorge's life.. 'One day I returned home to find that my mother had prepared a surprise. She had redecorated my bedroom and there it was, my gold outfit, hung on the wall, looking magical.' Some people think Jorge Lorenzo is simply copying Valentino Rossi, the originator of post-race victory celebrations, in order to enhance his own image. Others feel that perhaps he takes things too far, or they may view the Lorenzo antics rather more favourably. Jorge will continue to hope they're accepted for what they are: harmless, innocent fun but always with a moral to the 'story'. There's no doubt, though, that he will have something to say if other riders start copying him...

Jorge Lorenzo and 250cc celebrations

Lorenzo is authentic, reject imitations (2007); Shanghai race commentary (2007); A recital by Jorge Lorenzo to forget about Mugello (2007); Lorenzo 'Gladiator' conquers Misano and caresses the title (2007); Sepang MotoGP: Jorge Lorenzo is 2007 250cc GP champion, Hiroshi Aoyama wins race (2007); Jorge Lorenzo: My Story So Far (2010)

[bericas]

sceo weekend 2023 (day 1) → identity (what do their identities mean to them? to each other?)

the problem with liking is the conflation of desire with similarity. ↳ claire schwartz