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changbunnies · 19 days ago

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Moonstruck (18+)

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Ghost Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by corpse bride, horror in a goofy + silly + fluffy sort of way, ghost / human relationship, love at first sight vibes, smut, takes place vaguely during a time where ppl still use landlines more predominantly than cellphones

♡ Word Count: 6.5k

♡ Summary: Changbin is a scaredy cat– and despite that, he likes to read to the deceased in the cemetery, likes to help the souls that may linger there feel less lonely, likes to let them know they aren’t forgotten. His poems of choice are sweet things, full of love and joy– and his utterances of true love stir you; a soul who died before knowing love, and who craves it even in death. And Changbin decides, then and there, that he wants to give you what you couldn’t have in life.

♡ Warnings: discussions about death ofc (reader is quite literally dead and a ghost lol), i thought making reader the ghost instead of bin would be a fun lil twist as that usually isn't the case in fics like these? just wanted to try somethin a lil different :')

♡ Smut Warnings: sweet + tender smut because i'm a yearner for bin first and foremost!, no intended dom/sub dynamics but i did write a lot of bin begging so :), pet names (baby, honey), exhibitionism, voyeurism, some nipple play, mutual masturbation while cuddling

♡ Notes: my kinktober opened up dark but we are returning to standard form with my precious sweet binnie!! i did originally have something dark planned for bin too but i scrapped it pretty early on cause it didn't feel right lol i couldn't do it!! also the poem binnie is reading at the beginning of the fic is "since feeling is first" by e.e. cummings!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Changbin curses the autumn sun for setting so early– why on earth is it already so dark at 6 o’clock?!

The full moon hangs over him, and gosh, he wishes he could've gotten here earlier in the day– maybe then he wouldn’t still be here, in the local cemetery at night, with nothing but his poem book in hand.

He wishes even more that he at least had a flashlight– but the batteries were drained in the one he has sitting in his car's glove box, and it's not like he can leave spares in there; that's dangerous! So all he can do now is keep turning in the moonlight, trying to get it to hit the page of his book just right so he can keep reading.

Perhaps the reason he's here is silly, but Changbin fully believes in ghosts. Well, to be more precise, he thinks that there are many souls in the world, and that not every soul is here physically.

Most souls, he thinks, depart for a better place when their flesh dies, but he also thinks there are many that don’t– many that stick around because there is something they still wish to do, or because they have someone they still wish to see.

That’s what always brings him here when he can spare a moment from his busy life. Because he believes that if spirits do still linger in this world like he thinks they do, if they haven’t yet found peace and moved on, they must be lonely.

It must be sad– to exist in the world you once knew, but be unable to interact with it the way you used to. For others to no longer be able to see you, touch you, or hear you.. He doesn’t want anyone, alive or otherwise, to feel forgotten or ignored. And if he can make a difference somehow, in whatever small and silly way it is, he’ll do it; because he’d want someone to do it for him.

Naturally, he didn’t intend to still be here at night; he just got caught up at work, and arrived here later than he typically would. But still, he didn’t want to just turn around and go home– he promised last week that he’d come back today to read!

And maybe ghosts, or spirits, or whatever you want to call them aren’t real; maybe he spends his time here reading to nothing and no one. But if there’s even a chance that someone can hear him, and who looks forward to the days he returns to keep them company, then he has to keep his promises.

Still, he’d be lying if he said he isn’t more than a little freaked out right now. He’s been here during the day plenty of times, and you’d think that’d mean he wouldn’t be scared of the place at night, but oh, you’d be so sorely mistaken.

He jumps every time the crisp, freshly fallen autumn leaves rustle from the wind, and from every shadow cast from the newly bare tree branches. He constantly glances over his shoulder, alerted from every small noise, whether it be an owl hooting or a cricket chirping.

And when a black cat appeared out of nowhere to bump against his leg, he let out the shrillest shriek before erupting into a fit of sneezes. He even jumped out of his skin from accidentally kicking a can while walking– and why is there litter in a cemetery anyways? Whoever left their trash here is so disrespectful!

Suffice it to say, Changbin really wants to get out of here– but there’s only one more batch of graves he hasn’t read over yet, and he doesn’t want to skip them over. It wouldn’t feel fair to them, especially not if they're waiting for him– the last thing he wants to do is disappoint someone.

“H-Hi everyone! Changbinnie’s back to read again, uhm– s-sorry I came so late, I’ll still read to you like I promised! J-Just give me a sec,” he says, trying to temper the fear in his voice as he continues to adjust the position of his book in the moonlight. Finally, he finds the perfect position for the moon to make the words in his book clear, and for the shadow he himself casts to not obscure them.

He takes one more tentative glance around, takes a breath to settle his nerves before he clears his throat to start. And thankfully, the fear does naturally start to dissipate a bit as he reads– serves as a good enough distraction from his eerie surroundings. "Since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things, will never wholly kiss you. Wholly to be a fool while–"

Changbin pauses when he hears an unfamiliar sound, goosebumps erupting all along his skin as he looks up from his book. It was a soft, light and airy sound– almost like a voice, though he’s certain it couldn’t have been; because when he looks around, he doesn't see anyone. He’s as alone as he’s been from the start; so he assumes he's just psyching himself out, mistaking the steadily blowing wind for something it isn’t.

"Aish, it's nothing! Stop scaring yourself!" he whispers to himself before he continues to recite the words on the page. But he pauses yet again when he hears fallen leaves crinkle and a brittle tree branch snap just feet away from him. It spooks him good, it does– and he lets out an awkward laugh at himself when he realizes it was the black cat he saw earlier that made the sound; hopefully it keeps enough distance that he doesn't get the sneezes again.

Looking away from the cat that is currently working overtime to fray his nerves, he turns his attention back to his book. There's only a tiny bit of the poem left to go, and Changbin is confident he can get through it! No more being a scaredy cat over the little things, no more trembling breaths and anxious stutters– he can do this!

"The best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter, which says we are for each other; then laugh, leaning back in my arms. For life's not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis."

With a sigh of relief to be finished, he closes his book and prepares to bid the inhabitants of the cemetery, that may or may not actually exist, a pleasant goodbye; and a swear that he's never staying past sundown again. He’ll stay longer next time, he promises, but he has to go home before he loses his mind.

He really hopes they do exist– he doesn't want to think he stuck around while scared out of his wits for no reason; he hopes someone heard him, and was comforted by his presence. And honestly, he thinks he deserves a pat on the back after all the trials he's gone through in the last 30 minutes!

And as he finishes tucking his poem book in his arm and looks up, he sees someone. Translucent, hazy, floating, just a few feet in front of him– he can see straight through them, can see all the dark trees and short, stone headstones that live in the ground that the figure should obscure were they physically here.

Changbin blinks, almost wanting to cartoonishly rub his eyes and slap his cheeks to make sure he's seeing properly and not losing his mind like he fears. What he does instead is shriek, positively jumps out of his skin once again as he drops his book and falls back on his behind from the fright.

He scrambles backwards, ducks behind a nearby headstone and brings a hand over his racing heart. He takes a few breaths, does his best to calm down before he slowly peeks out from behind the headstone to see if the figure is still there.

He doesn't see anyone anymore– was he just seeing things? He has been really scared, so he doesn't think it impossible that his mind would start tricking him. But what if he really saw a ghost? The thought makes goosebumps rise on his skin again– God, he needs to go home already.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" he hears a voice, airy and otherworldly, just behind him. His breath hitches, and hesitantly, slowly, he starts to turn toward the source of the voice. You float there, brows furrowed as you call to him, glowing ever so slightly in the palest shade of blue.

A chill runs down his spine, and it's not just from how frightened he is– it's because cold air is quite literally radiating off of you. "Y-You– You're– You're a–" You're a ghost, he's trying to say, but the word catches in his throat. It doesn't help that his teeth are chattering now– he can even see his breath with every word he manages to choke out.

And yes, he already thought ghosts were real– the whole reason he comes here to comfort spirits is because he believes in them! But he’s never actually seen one before, nor heard their disembodied voices calling to him. And now that it’s actually happening, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You can hear me! I knew it! You can see me too, can’t you?” you exclaim joyously, clapping your hands together in utter delight. You’re less transparent than before, your form less blurry– but you don’t look solid either. If he stuck his hand out to touch you, he’s sure it’d pass right through you.

He swallows as he watches you dart side to side in your glee, the motions so smooth it’s unnatural. You look around his age, he thinks, though it’s impossible for him to tell exactly how old you are– or rather, were. Your hair is wispy, floats around you in a way reminiscent of being underwater; your long dress does too, light and delicate in appearance.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Changbin,” you tell him earnestly as you float down to his eye level, “I didn’t mean to, I just got so excited you could finally hear me– I'm so happy!”

“You– you know my name?” Changbin questions, bewildered– honestly, he feels like he’s going to pass out. “Of course I do! You come here every week to read to me,” you reply with a giggle, as if the idea that you wouldn’t know his name is a silly one.

“O-Oh, right, yeah, of course, that makes sense,” he mutters. He’s still shocked, but he’s not as scared as before, and he manages to relax just a little. “You, uhm– you listen to me read often then..?” he follows up hesitantly; and it’s probably such a silly question, but you’ll have to forgive him because he’s never had a conversation with a ghost before.

“Yes! I love when you come to visit and read your poems, it always makes me happy,” you tell him, adjusting your position so you’re sitting down with him– though you aren’t actually sitting on the dirt like he is, but levitating off the ground.

You introduce yourself after that, smile happily when he repeats it, because it’s been oh so long since someone said your name.��“If you’re always here, why couldn’t I see you before?” Changbin can’t help but ask after, because now that the fear is dissipating he’s full of questions he wants to ask you.

“Well, the conditions have to be right! You can’t see me when it’s bright out, and you never stay 'til dark. And now I know why, scaredy cat,” you tease him, giggling when he pouts and huffs. You honestly find it endearing that someone as seemingly strong as Changbin is so easily frightened by little things.

“Hey, you’d be scared too!” he complains, though he can’t help but smile as you keep giggling at him. He never expected to befriend a ghost, but you’re obviously a kind spirit, and your delight to be talking to him is evident. And now that he’s over the shock and the fear, and really looks at you, he thinks you’re pretty too– beautiful, even.

Is that strange? Maybe; but you are still a person at the end of the day. You float, you’re a little transparent, you glow pale blue and cold air surrounds you, but you’re still a person.

And at the same time, he can’t help but feel sad too– death comes for everyone, he knows, but it feels unfair that someone like you is already gone from this world. Someone as young, kind, and beautiful as you should’ve lived a long, full life.

“You need to have strong emotions to manifest, y’know? And the moon helps– when it's full like this, it gives me more energy than I usually have,” you continue to explain when your giggling subsides, and Changbin hums contemplatively, thinking for a moment before he responds.

“You have strong emotions then? Something that keeps you here?” It makes sense that you would– as far as he knows, strong emotions are the only things tethering spirits to the physical world; so if you’re not at rest, it has to be because there’s something within you that feels unresolved, something you needed or wanted but never obtained.

Tentatively you nod, fiddling with your fingers and averting your gaze slightly. “I do, but.. It’s– it’s silly,” you mumble, and Changbin’s previous lighthearted, curious expression shifts, suddenly turning serious as he gazes at you with a slight frown.

“If it mattered to you– if it still matters to you, it’s not silly,” he says, and the sincerity in which he says it would make your heart race if you were still alive. If you’re being entirely honest, you’re in love with Changbin– and that’s part of the problem.

When you were alive, all you’d ever wanted was love– to meet someone that knocked you off your feet with just a glance, someone sweet, sincere, and tender. Someone that you could marry someday, maybe start a family with while living together in a quaint little idyllic house.

But that never happened– and the sense of despair and unfulfillment you felt from having your dreams taken away from you are what kept you here. You didn’t know what to do when you realized what happened to you– spent your days wailing in frustration and sadness to the few other spirits inhabiting the cemetery with you over the unfair circumstances.

What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to find peace and move on? Maybe the only way would be to learn to accept it– accept that your dreams would never come true, and just let them go. You didn’t want to, but if you kept holding onto them, who knows when you’d finally move on from this world?

And around the same time you were grappling with such thoughts and feelings is when you first saw Changbin, who came to the cemetery for no reason other than to give you and the other inhabitants some company. And he wasn’t talking only to you, but it always felt like he was– like every word that left his lips was entirely for you alone.

“I’m here for you, you’re not alone as long as Changbin is here,” “This poem is my favorite, I hope you like it too,” “Did you have a good day today? It’s okay if you didn’t– Binnie’ll hopefully make it better!”

That’s all it took, really– and suddenly, you weren’t bound to this world because you never knew love; you were bound to this world because you felt it too much. You love him; not just because of his sweet personality, but every little detail about him– from the swoop and curl of his hair, to his chubby cheeks, to his cute, pretty and pouty lips.

And you long to kiss him, but Changbin is alive, and you very much aren’t anymore– and there’s no way he’ll fall in love with a ghost. Still, you believe him when he says that what binds you here isn’t silly– or that he won’t think so, at least.

“It’s just.. Well, I can’t have what I want, I know I can’t, but I still want it anyways; like, even though I should just let it go, I can’t bring myself to. I think that’s why I’m still here,” you tell him, deciding it’s best to keep your desires down to their vaguest parts.

Changbin is sweet, and he looks at you with so much care that you’re certain he’d be understanding and sympathetic, but it’s probably for the best that you don’t pour your heart out beyond that.

“Is there really no way for you to have what you want? If there’s anything I can do to help, you can tell me! I’d do my best,” he expresses sincerely, and though you can’t physically cry anymore, it almost makes you feel like you will. He’s just too sweet, you can’t take it.

“M-Maybe, but I wouldn’t ask for it,” you reply, and his brows furrow a little. “Why not? You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I hope you know that I mean it when I say I'd be happy to help you," Changbin says, smile so patient, gentle and sweet that it if you were still alive, your cheeks would definitely be heating up right now.

Should you give it a shot? What's the worst that could happen? You're already dead, so it's not like you can die from embarrassment if he shuts you down. The worst he can say is no– and that would be okay too, because maybe with his rejection you'd finally be able to let go of what keeps you here.

“You could.. kiss me?” you say after a moment of hesitation, and Changbin almost squeaks from how surprised he is, blinks at you with the cutest flustered expression you’ve ever seen.

“Th-That’s– that’s what you want?” he stutters out, and even in the low light of the moon, you can tell he’s blushing, the soft pink spreading over his cheeks and crawling up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s– it’s what I wanted when I was alive. To kiss someone I love, I mean,” you answer, and it gets Changbin’s heart racing. Not just that someone as pretty as you, ghost or not, wants to kiss him, but the implication that you love him that definitely wasn’t missed by him.

“It was the poems, wasn’t it?” he says with a bashful little downturned smile a moment later, and you laugh, in your delightfully light and airy way as you nod. “They helped. But really, I just think you’re very cute– and very sweet.”

It’s a little strange, being complimented like this by a ghost, and learning that said ghost has very deep rooted feelings for him– but he likes it. And maybe it’s a little unorthodox, but he’d be happy to give you what you want; especially if it will help you find peace.

“I’ll kiss you,” he tells you, and it’s not because he feels obligated, or like he should– it’s because, believe it or not, he sincerely wants to. He thinks you're pretty, you're sweet and earnest, and you love him– so who cares if you're a ghost; why shouldn't he kiss you?

“A-Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” you assure him, and Changbin smiles at you as he nods, entirely certain. “I know I don’t have to. I want to kiss you.” Your spiritual heart soars and burns with joy– and slowly, timidly, you return his smile before you float your way closer to him, and reach your hand out to touch his cheek.

He doesn’t feel your touch, not really– just the cold that pours from you. Regardless, he closes his eyes for you, purses his lips and slightly tilts his head the way he would if he were kissing anyone else. And again, he doesn’t feel your lips, but the cold– that is, until the feeling suddenly starts to become fuller.

Slowly, he can begin to feel the way your hand rests on his cheek, can feel your lips slotted against his. He can feel your other hand resting on his chest, right over his heart, can feel the weight of your body on his lap, and he shivers– not because of the cold, but because he can actually feel you now.

Instinctively, he moves his hands to try and touch you– and is pleasantly surprised to find he can. His hands don’t phase through you like he thought they would earlier– he can feel you under his fingertips, as if you’re just as corporeal as he himself is. And so he holds you close, kisses you slow and sweet, over and over until he’s out of breath.

“You’re still here,” he can’t help but whisper when he pulls away; he half expected you to dissipate the moment you got what you wanted, though he’s not sure if that’s actually how it's supposed to work. And he’s left with a strange feeling– on one hand, he’s sad for you because he really did want to help you move on. On the other hand, he likes that you’re still here, that he can still see you and feel you.

In reality, you feel like his kiss tethered you even more to the physical world. You’re the happiest you’ve ever been, and instead of it giving you the peace you needed to move on, it bound you here stronger. You're filled with a strong desire to remain here, to be with Changbin, and you feel that it has made you manifest more than you’d ever been able to before.

You’ve tried many times before, but have never been able to manifest yourself this much; to the point that not only could you be seen and heard, but felt– and whether it’s because the full moon is helping, or because Changbin’s kiss gave you more energy and purpose, or a mix of both, you’re happy.

“I think I like you too much to move on.” you tell him, and he giggles as he squeezes you closer, his nose scrunching cutely whilst he hugs you.

“I’m sorry– I feel like I shouldn’t be, but I’m happy you’re still here,” he says, and you shake your head, returning his smile as you share the sentiment. “I’m happy I’m still here too.”

It’s a bit strange, having a ghost for a partner. Sharing a kiss attached you to him; and no longer bound to your grave, but to Changbin himself, now you go wherever he goes. You don’t need to always be right on him, of course– but you do have to be close; and every time one of you steps too far out of that radius, you always end up snapping back to him.

It’s a generous radius, really– you can go several miles before the invisible tether connecting you snaps you back to his side. It’s more than enough for you to exist in his house while he goes to work– and really, he’s happy to share his home with you; he’s sure it beats staying in the cemetery all day, every day.

And even when he can’t see you, whether because the sun is too bright in the sky or because you don’t have enough energy to manifest that day, he can feel you– and you make yourself known in little ways. His house is always cold now, but it’s especially cold when you’re nearby. You flicker his lights and turn his tv screen to static to get his attention, or leave a message in the steam from his hot showers on the mirror.

He’ll get a phantom phone call to his landline, where all that exists on the other line is static– but even if he can’t hear it, he’s sure at that moment you’re saying something sweet. And while he's mostly used to these occurrences now, he'll still jump when he hears a sudden noise before he remembers it’s you; a tapping on the wood of his bed frame, usually– 8 knocks meant to signify “I love you.”

Nights of the full moon are always when you can manifest yourself the fullest and easiest, and you both take full advantage of the time you have before you eventually start to become hazy and transparent again. Tonight is one of those nights; the moon hanging high, bright and beautiful, illuminating his dark room in the same pretty, pale blue that glows off you.

“Baby, please–! You’re so cold, warn me first!” Changbin cries when you first touch him. He already knows you’re not going to waste any time in getting to touch him when you first manifest, but the chill that radiates off you still jolts him every time.

“You’re just so warm,” you muse happily as you snake your limbs around him, sap him for all the warmth he’s worth under his fluffy comforter, “my big teddy bear.” He huffs, but smiles as he does– he can’t actually be upset with you, after all.

“You should let me take your warmth anyways– you were so mean, ignoring me all day,” you pout as you snuggle into him, burying your head in the warm crook of his neck.

“Hey, hey! Don’t say that, that’s not fair! You know I couldn’t see you!” he wails dramatically, and you have to make an effort not to giggle, bury your face further into him so he can’t see you smiling.

Of course, you know it’s not his fault in the slightest that he couldn’t see your or hear you earlier today, but you still like to tease him over it just a little– his reactions to it are always so cute. “So mean,” you repeat, your voice muffled by his sweater.

He knows that you’re doing it to get a rise out of him, and you know that he knows. But he likes doing this with you– it’s silly fun, and he loves the precious smile that spreads on your face when he plays along and inevitably dotes on you while begging for your forgiveness.

“Aigoo, my baby is really upset. Guess Binnie just has to make it up to you, huh?” he says, and you lift your head just enough to peek an eye at him. “Tell Changbinnie what you want, he’ll give it to you. He’s really sorry,” he entices you further, and the cute smile he was expecting and loves so much makes its full appearance.

“Want a kiss,” you say, pursing your lips at him in that cute duck shape as you wait for him to comply. He tries to coo at you, but it comes out more like a giggle before he’s lifting his head from the pillow to kiss you, tender and sweet.

“Do you forgive me now?” he asks when he pulls away, and you hum as you pretend to think about it. “Mm, I don’t know. I think I might need another one to decide.”

Changbin fully laughs then, shakes his head and mutters something about you being cute before he kisses you again. He shifts onto his side as he kisses you, making it easier for you to tangle your legs with his. He hisses when your cold toes touch the backs of warm calves, and you giggle an apology, though he knows you’re not actually sorry about it at all.

You always tell him how much you love his warmth, and how it radiates from every inch of him. And he’ll pout and shout, half-heartedly complain when you surprise him by touching him with your cold digits, simply because he knows it makes you laugh; you both know that in reality, he’s happy to be your personal heater.

He shivers when you snake your hands under his sweater; your hands aren’t as cold as they were when you first touched him anymore, but it’s still enough for goosebumps to follow the path of your fingers– or maybe he just has goosebumps because he likes you touching him.

Changbin gasps when you brush over his peaking, puffy nipples, and you take that moment to slip your tongue into this mouth. He moans when you pinch them between your fingers, tweak and twist just enough to have him squirming.

“Honey,” he breathes in a near whine when you pull away from him to kiss over his jaw, and the scar that sits on his chin, while your fingers continue to play with his body.

“I missed you,” you speak against his skin as you press kisses along his neck, “I heard you earlier– saw you touching yourself in the shower. I wanted you so bad, but I couldn’t do anything about it.” He whimpers at that, squeezes you where his hand rests on your waist.

Naturally, the fact that you can hear him and see him even when he can’t see or hear you always exists in the back of his mind. Every time he starts to touch himself, it’s something he considers– and he even likes it; likes knowing you’re there, watching and listening.

“I’m sorry, couldn’t help it,” he whines an apology, though he knows he doesn’t have to. You’ve both talked about it, of course– how you like watching him, and how he likes being watched in turn. There’s something naughty about it, and it always leaves him feeling extra desired and sexy when you later tell him what you saw, how much you want him because of it.

And when he feels a sudden chill run along his body and down the length of his spine, is hit with the inexplicable sensation of being watched, he knows it’s you. It always fuels him, makes him fist his cock faster and run his mouth, hoping you like everything he’s spilling.

Really, it’s no wonder that you always jump his bones the minute you can. Changbin thinks he’d go insane if the situation were the opposite; if he could see you touching yourself, could hear every little noise of pleasure you release, and not be able to join no matter how bad he wanted to. He’s already desperate for more intimacy with you as is– he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it.

“Can you do it again? Touch yourself with me right here?” you ask him, and he can’t help the way his face flushes as you continue, “I want you to see me watching you this time.” You can feel the way his heart thumps in response to your request, how it picks up speed ever so slightly before he answers. “Y-Yeah, I can– I can do that for you, honey.”

You meant it when you said you like watching Changbin get off. You like watching his honeyed skin slowly take on more and more pink as he strokes his cock. You like watching his broad chest puff out, his stomach clench, his toned arms flex with every motion he makes.

You like watching the sweat build on his brow, and like to listen to his moans become more breathy and whiny as he gets closer and closer to release. And though Changbin isn’t naked now, you’ll still enjoy watching all the same; because he's beautiful, and handsome, and so utterly perfect when he's feeling good.

He reaches between your bodies, manages to get his pajama pants and underwear down just enough to release his still hardening cock from their confines. He bites his lip as he takes the short length in his hand, looks down at himself as he strokes it slowly before looking back at you.

There’s still enough lingering sensitivity from before that he squirms more than usual, but that’s not all there is to it– it's your attentive stare, the way you gaze into his eyes as he moans before you trail them away to watch him stroke himself, and back again. And you’re so close, body so tangled with his, that his fist keeps bumping into your thigh with each pump of his cock.

Changbin keens when you kiss him, so affectionate and tender that it makes his head spin. You can feel his thighs twitch as he starts to stroke himself faster, and you pull away to watch for a few moments before you tilt your head back up to kiss him again. He's fully hard now, dripping pre-cum so steadily that the glide of his hand becomes slick and effortless.

He whimpers when you pinch his nipples again, parts his lips so you can slip your tongue back into his mouth. His breathing becomes steadily harsher and uneven, his every moan and whimper muffled by your lips against his. He brings his other hand to your ass, squeezes it as he pulls you even closer to his body, as if the fact that you're not already mere inches apart with your limbs tangled together is enough for him.

And truly, he can't get enough of having you close like this. The way you kiss him, touch him, look at him, all while he’s stroking his cock for you– it really does something to him; makes him feel so good and so desired that he swears he could cum purely from the intimacy of it alone.

“You too, please?” Changbin pleads in a breathy exhale the next time you pull back from kissing him, “Please, want to watch you too.”

“Yeah? You want to watch me?” you smile, almost giggle from the eager nod and the whiny, desperate “please, want it so bad,” he gives in response. You’re sweet to your Binnie, oblige him in an instant, and he watches with eager eyes and bated breath as you dip your hand between your bodies.

Even with your dress already hiked all the way up your thighs, you’re so closely pressed to him that he can’t get a clear sight of your pussy; but watching your hand will be enough of a view for him. He'll be able to tell what you're doing, and that's all he really needs.

All you can reach while this close and tangled together with Changbin is your clit, and he watches you shudder at the first bit of stimulation to it from your fingers. He mimics what you’d done– alternates between watching your face and your hand, and God, every time your eyes meet again it takes his breath away.

It’s not the same as if you had a physical body like his– your face doesn’t flush, you don't sweat from exertion, and you don’t grow breathless the way he does, but you feel the pleasure all the same. He can tell from the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your body, and the bite of your lip as you gaze at him.

And you're so pretty, face so close to his that your foreheads touch, that his every breath tickles you. "Oh my god, baby–" he whimpers when you start to moan with him, picking up the pace of your hand when he does, matching his speed.

It makes him dizzy– because when he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s inside you; pretend that the sloppy, squelching sounds his fist creates are from your pussy instead. He can pretend that when you moan and whimper, it’s because he's stretching you out perfectly and hitting your spot just right.

He holds your gaze when he opens his eyes again, completely stops watching the motion of your fingers between your legs so he can strictly observe you, take in your pretty face and how you look when you're feeling good with him. It’s intimate, staring at you like this; it makes him squeeze his cock tighter, the motion of his fist quickly becoming erratic as he drives himself closer to release.

“Does it– do you feel good?” Changbin asks, because even though he knows, he still wants to hear you say it. “Do you like this? Tell me– please tell me.”

“Feels so good, Binnie, love this, love you so much– you can’t see it, but I always touch myself with you like this, always make myself cum watching you,” you tell him, and he whimpers from your admission, high-pitched and squeaky.

“Oh, ‘m so close– will you cum with me? Please, need you to cum with me,” Changbin whines and pleads, every inch of his body trembling as he tries to hold his orgasm back long enough to hear your answer.

“I will, ‘m gonna cum for you, Binnie, just for you,” you promise, reaching your free hand out to cup his face, keeping your eyes locked with his as you watch each other unravel. Your paces are frantic now, bodies bucking together with every combined motion of your hands between your tangled legs.

You lean forward to kiss him just as your high takes you, and it sends him right over the edge with you, eyes rolling back before they flutter closed. Noises of pleasure muffled by each other’s lips, his hips jolt as his cum spills over his fist, onto your thighs and the hand you have nestled between them.

He’s sure some of it got on his comforter too, but he doesn’t care– he just keeps kissing you as he comes down from his high, because despite how breathless he is, it's all he wants to do. “I love you so much,” he tells you after another sweet kiss, and you smile at him, tell him you love him too as you wipe the sweat sticking his curly hair to his forehead away.

You stay like that the rest of the night; tangled together, hugging each other close and kissing tenderly until Changbin’s fatigue prevents him from doing so any longer. He falls asleep like that, holding you to his body as much as he can; and even when your physical form starts to dissipate with the rising of the sun, you stay right against him.

When he wakes in the morning, he can’t see you anymore, but he knows you’re there. He tells you he loves you, and he smiles when you reply with your 8 little knocks to his bed frame. He talks to you throughout his morning, as he always does, because even if he can’t see you, he knows you’re listening.

And when he decides to go back to the cemetery to read to the other spirits that still linger there, as he promised them he would, you go with him. He saves your grave for last, and you watch as he puts flowers on your headstone before he settles in to read to you; and even when he can’t see you because the sun is just too bright, he can feel you there, sitting next to him and listening to his poems.

When he’s finished reading, he’ll feel a sudden touch of cold on his cheek, and he’ll know it’s from you kissing him. He’ll smile, place his hand over the spot and tell you again that he loves you. And when Changbin returns home, and the light of the moon helps you manifest again, he’ll kiss you all over and squeeze you tight, with a million promises of forever on his lips.

#skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #changbin smut #skz fanfic #changbin fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune #kinktober fic and yet i once again wrote more plot than porn. yeah it's fine what's new #but also the me who thought she could write something short and plot-free for binnie was so funny. like who do you think you are?

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hellenicrisis · 10 months ago

Text

A Collection of Greek Keywords for Hellenic Pagans (kharis, miasma, etc.)

Kharis:

Kharis means 'grace' or 'favour' and it is in reference to the reciprocal nature of our relationships with the gods.

Liddell and Scott describe it as, "A grace or favour felt on the part of the doer but more frequently on the part of the receiver in the form or thankfulness and gratitude."

It essentially means a favour done in delight. This can be both the offering we give to the gods, and the favours and blessings the gods bestow upon us.

Kharis is both the action of offering and worshipping and also what is built between a worshipper and a god through the actions of offering and reverence. It can be used like this:

'Giving an offering to the gods is an example of kharis.'

Or:

'I have built up kharis with Apollo over the years.'

Khaire/khairete:

Khaire or khairete are words that mean 'hail', 'farewell', or 'blessings'.

It can be used to greet someone, either as hello or farewell (I use it at the end of some of my posts). It can also be used at the end of a prayer.

Khaire is used to address one person or god, and khairete is used to address a group.

Miasma:

Miasma means 'stain', 'pollution', 'defilement', or 'stain of guilt'.

It is a type of spiritual pollution that a person or a place can collect through either happenstance or deliberate action. It makes us spiritually unclean but there is no damnation involved in miasma and thus is not similar to sin. Sin is more comparable to agos, which is mentioned later.

We tend to collect miasma while going about day-to-day life, almost like getting our hands dirty while working. The stain it refers to is always one of a spiritual nature; miasma is a strictly spiritual concept.

It makes a person or place ritually impure, hence it is inappropriate to interact with the divine while in a miasmic state. The gods are said to reject the offerings of a miasmic person or to vacate a miasmic place until it is cleansed.

Human blood is also considered to be miasmic when spilled outside of battle, though this is not the case for menstrual blood (although I tend to avoid praying and doing rituals during that week anyway as I consider it to not be my cleanest state possible. I use this time to tend to my altar physically instead, cleaning it and reorganizing it).

Miasma is very common, everyone gets it, mostly due to plain daily life, though sometimes due to deliberate actions. Miasma can always be cleansed.

Sources of miasma include:

Death in the home - Pollutes the grieving and the home. People and home need to be cleansed before interacting with the gods or going to temple.

Birth - Because of the blood involved. Mother and baby are considered by traditional standards to be miasmic for three days postpartum and both are generally cleansed at five days postpartum.

Intercourse - Both parties are polluted by the act and must be cleansed before interacting with the gods or going to temple.

M*rder/m*nsl*ughter - This collects both miasma and agos. The m*rderer becomes miasmic, and a place can become miasmic if a m*rderer is free and unpunished there. This does not apply to blood spilled in battle.

There is a line in Hesiod's Works and Days that refers to the action of cleansing oneself of miasma before interacting with the gods. It reads, "Never pour a libation of sparkling wine to Zeus after dawn with unwashen hands, nor to others of the deathless gods."

Khernips:

Khernips means 'handwash', or 'lustral water'.

It is basically Hellenic holy water. It is used to purify ourselves of miasma before interacting with the gods.

It can be made by dropping burnt herbs or laurel leaves (bay leaves) in clean water, or by dropping a lit match in clean water. Simply washing our hands in plain water can work symbolically as well if done with the specific intention of purifying oneself.

Agos:

Agos means 'curse', 'pollution', or 'abomination'.

It can be considered as a step up to miasma and, while not quite the same, it could also be considered comparable to sin. It is brought about through deliberate actions and it is very difficult, if not impossible, to cleanse. Agos can also invoke the divine wrath of the gods, so it does involve a form of damnation

Some things that cause/invoke agos include:

Having intercourse inside a temple

Temple robbing

M*rder

Bloodshed inside a temple or on sacred grounds

Broken xenia

The refusal to properly bury a family member or a soldier (even an enemy soldier)

K*lling someone who is under the gods' protection

Offering human blood to the gods (due to its miasmic nature)

Agos is hardly as common as miasma, so it is not something the general practitioner should worry about.

#🏛🕯#hellenic pagan #hellenic paganism #pagan #paganism #helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic polythiest #polytheism #polytheist

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eldritch-spouse · 9 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/741884957599973376/httpswwwtumblrcomeldritch-spouse741700018004?source=share

I need to know in explicit detail the first time breg allowed this human to collect samples. Also need to know the embarrassing situations they are put in that their coworkers judge them

I honestly love this so much I'm kicking my feet and giggling ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[Fem reader. I kind of rushed this. Doodle at the end.]

TW: Heavy themes of abuse (including mentions of noncon, death and captivity); Dubious consent moments.

" Listen, we just need you to get in there. "

You blink. " ... This can't be serious. Is this a joke? "

The half-fiend woman, superior to you in professional rank, drags a hand across her blonde locks and grimaces. " Look, I know it sounds bad- "

" Of course it does! This was nowhere in the job description- "

Not that the job description was very uh, descriptive, anyway. But any straw will do, anything to cling to a modicum of your dignity as you get told what your next task will be.

She seems to switch through a few different corporate tactics to ease the blow. " Listen, please. We are short-staffed at the moment, and this has been affecting production a lot more than you can imagine. Specimen 197 is a big bread-winner here and we all know he's uncooperative with machinery, going as far as to ruin it constantly, which leads to more expenses- "

She's explaining this to you like you're a particularly slow toddler and you're not amused.

" We have also noted that M197 is clearly attached to you and a bond has been formed, which is why your presence is requested in certain situations, to reduce his stress levels during tasks. This... Is another one of those tasks. We just need you to get a few samples- " She points at the two canisters next to her. " And you can think of it as a way to improve your bond with the specimen even. "

" Ma'am, he's entering a rut. " You pause. " You want me to walk into a male breeder's cell while he's rutting and engage sexually with him? "

She gulps. " For- For strictly professional purposes- "

" I'm not doing this. "

...

" There's a significant monetary bonus if you manage to do it. "

A long, shameful, disgustingly filthy moment of silence unfolds where you internally debate how far you're willing to go for some much needed money.

Too far, apparently.

" ... I'll do it. "

" Great, that's wonderful, we- "

" No cameras in the room. "

She flinches. " But then how are we supposed to know if you're in danger? "

" No cameras, please. "

If you die you die. You don't want footage of you being possibly mauled by a breeder out there...

A begrudging glance is cast towards the canisters sitting innocently on the table.

Grabbing them, you prepare for the shitshow you signed yourself into.

We have him tied up, the techs had informed you, it'll make things easier.

Just hearing them gives you headaches.

Yes, of course, because forcibly restraining the already volatile lifeform will make it cease being hostile. Logical.

A long-suffering sigh exits your lips when you input the code to open 197's cell. It's a code you know by heart now. If not from the regular standard visits, then from the hurried string of numbers your coworkers would scream at you over the radio before getting launched around by a monster several times their size and weight.

It's hard to forget something like that. There are just some faces you never see again.

As soon as the heavily reinforced door hisses open, you're greeted by an immediate build-up of a snarl. As scary as the sound was when you first heart it, and continues to be on an instinctual level, you understand now that it's mostly born out of fear.

Nothing good ever happens when 197 is cuffed and he's right to be frightened.

The moment you step into view and the door slams shut behind you however, he visibly seems to shift gear instantly.

Sitting on the rather uncomfortable tiled ground, specimen 197 has his ankles spread and cuffed to the ground, his wrists joined behind him and his neck nearly choked to the wall. A muzzle prevents the breeder's jaw from elongating as it tends to do when he's threatened. His tail is likewise restrained in two areas. Those cuffs are the best things modern technology can offer, you haven't heard of a single solid monster type that can shatter them. They're likely also tampered with by some more magically-inclined individuals, but you've never been one to dabble in that.

He exhibits the signs you'd expect from any male entering a rut. Excessive sweating, goosebumps, a faster breathing rate, tension, restlessness and a dilated, humid slit. His skin flickers from time to time, signals somewhere between aggression and courtship displays. You would never have associated heat cycles with torture before starting your work here, but seeing the way these monsters are chemically forced into hypersexual, unhealthily exacerbated heats has shown you just how cruelly this biological process can be exploited.

Sometimes they die. A hormonal, frenzied, artificially accelerated metabolism like this is powerful, but it's also very fragile, in a way. Either they're able to maintain their required ridiculous nutrient intake, find a way to preserve as much energy as possible, or simply panic and end up dying from a mixture of stress and lack of sustenance.

Another sigh escapes your lips, you try to clear your head by placing the canisters on the ground.

The breeder in question, who was once nearly pitch black in his effort to intimidate the perceived threat, is now snow white, having registered you as his favorite, the "nice one". 197 shrinks in himself, then begins a litany of keening whines interspersed with specific chirps.

It might be a plea for attention from an already hormone-fried brain, it might also just be a desperate request to be released from his binds.

You're no paragon of morality, but unlike your coworkers, you understand that building a bond with anyone requires depositing some trust in them. And, even if 197 is rutting, you can only continue to build a connection with him if he has a modicum of comfort in this situation. Which is why you steel yourself before moving closer to the specimen in question and inputting the specific combination to unlock all of his cuffs.

The process is timed, giving workers about five or so minutes to leave the cell before the cuffs drop and the monster is freed. It prevents casualties, naturally.

197 tries to thump his tail in appreciation when he realizes what you're doing, quietly rumbling and trying to lean into the small brushes of your fingers as you work.

" There big guy, just give it a second... " You take a few steps back while you wait.

It feels like a small eternity before the restraints begin falling off one by one. First the tail ones, then the muzzle, the neck, the wrists... And the ankles. On that last click, the breeder shrugs everything away and stretches as he stands.

You've studied these monsters and their mannerisms, he's not stretching just to soothe his joints, he's displaying. The exaggerated curve of that spine says it all, you know exactly what reaction he's after. Though, already riled up as he is, you don't think it's a good idea to respond.

In a second, he's closed the distance between the two of you, this near suffocating hovering over your front, hands and arms twitching with the urge to touch you. 197 is not good with boundaries, which was very surprising to you, considering he absolutely detests it when 99% of people touch him.

The 1% being you.

He waits, visibly pained, for the signal.

" You can touch me now. "

And like a sudden wave, 197 nearly crashes onto you, his comparatively massive pale body blanketing over yours as his arms cage your upper body, lifting it along with him. You squealed the first few times, now you know to stay mostly still and lean to the right so he can shove his face in the crook of your neck without bonking his head against yours. Painful.

He takes a couple deep, shameless inhales of your scent. And, if you had to guess, you're probably a bit sweaty from anxiety. Not that he seems to care, 197 actually appears to slow down a little, enjoying the closeness and now familiar odor you possess. His tail coils around your legs and you pat his back when the telltale chirps and trills of elation make it past his throat.

" Yeah, I missed you too buddy. Take a breather. "

This close to the male, you have absolutely no choice but to drown in his musk. 197 can't help it, he's ruttting after all, those pheromones have to come out. Fortunately, as a human, you're not affected by them, though some of your monster coworkers have to wear specific masks when they enter rutting breeder cells. To you, it's just vaguely unpleasant and heavy.

197 would usually give you a bit of room by now, but he doesn't seem interested in that, instead shifting you around so he can smell other parts of your figure, particularly your hair. Your face warms from his excessive body heat and the sensation of being corralled, your protests silenced when a long blue muscle dips to trail from the base of your neck to your jaw and up the side of your face. The movement is quick, and your attempt to reflexively lean away is met with a tighter grasp as he repeats it.

197 has a habit of dulling his teeth to look more humanoid for your comfort, but not today, in the state he is, he likely forgot that detail altogether. This unfortunately means that you feel the scrape of those pointed daggers every time he amorously samples your skin.

" Alright okay, that's enough- "

You butt in when it feels like he's getting a bit too riled up too fast. It's not exactly counter-productive to your task, but letting him get more and more control over the situation will make it difficult to get the samples later. You can't wrangle a breeder in the throes of their rut, you have to do things before that critical stage.

However, the specimen isn't interested in listening to anything you have to say, responding instead to your tone with his own whine and starting to tug at your uniform. That does it. Thoroughly soaked in his drool, you grab onto the breeder's forearms hard.

" 197! " It's not a tone you like to use with any of the breeders here.

He eventually snaps out of his little trance, gulping, steadying himself before frowning and giving you the space you want.

In this barely minute-long episode, 197 has already kicked into high-gear. Breathing accelerated again, open-mouth panting, excessive drool production, somewhat puffed figure and the tips of his twin cocks already poking out of a pelvic pouch that can barely hold them back. He seems to shiver in his own overwhelming arousal, and though this species is known for having its eyes shielded behind a layer of skin on the face, you know he's fixed on you like a famished animal.

Although your cheeks are moments from setting aflame, this isn't exactly a new sight for you. 197 has gotten aroused in your vicinity several times, you've actually lost count. It'd be nonsensical of you to get irritated over such, given that these males are forced into hypersexuality by the concoctions introduced in their organisms. That paired with his fondness for you probably makes it hard for 197 to not get erections constantly. A hug can set him off, even simple closure paired with your scent is enough to do it.

Well. No time to waste.

While he's mildly disoriented, you grab one of the canisters and move towards a corner of the room with a seemingly randomly arranged pile of fabrics. This, as confusing as it may be to some, is a breeder's nest. And in this species of monsters, the males tend to be the ones who arrange spaces for coupling. 197 has expressed clear discontentment with the fabrics given to him during times of rut to fulfill his instinctual needs, but no one here is ever acting with the specimen's best interests in mind. Besides, he piped down when one of the techs had the bright idea of giving him a jacket you forgot in the workplace. It's right there in fact, the gray hue contrating with a mostly white and pale color scheme.

The nest itself is big, if it fits 197 then it definitely fits you too. And, knowing exactly what you're doing, you let him observe you take a step into it and sit down on the middle, empty canister beside you.

Oh boy.

You can practically hear the popcorn crackles in his brain.

The monster trills loudly, proudly, your supposed acceptance of what have amounted to months of unsubtle courtship from his part being finally rewarded. It's a dangerous moment, you're perfectly aware of such, but it's also necessary to get this over with.

197 drops to a creepily nimble crawl across the floor, rapidly posing over your seated form with blue-tinted cheeks and rabid need. Before you can get so much as a word in, he's dropping some of his weight on you, showering you in hasty licks and clumsy kisses again, this time unable to help himself from nipping at your clothes. The coverings visibly bother him, and the male growls quietly before his instincts tug at him again and he's trying to slot himself between your clothed legs. It takes some yelping, and fussy movement from his part, but you eventually rationalize that stressing him out can lead to a violent response right now.

Might as well let him get away with some embarrassing acts.

Hormone-muddled as he is, 197 has only enough of a mind to hold onto you and press two hot lengths against the front of your body. He's already full-mast, the heat and weight of those things dragging across you when he automatically moves his hips is utterly filthy. He groans, probably the first kind of decent friction he's been getting since he entered this phase of his cycle, the softness and smell of his favorite human getting the monster to leak already, lost in his desperate search for a modicum of relief. As gross and ridiculous as it is, at least he's not tugging at your clothes yet.

You can sense his frustration, the frantic way 197 mechanically bucks against you, the pressure he puts in every thrust, the way his claws puncture into your lab coat and he whines low, this noise that turns into a pleased sort of snarl. Overwhelmed, you shiver beneath his figure, glad there are no cameras to see you fluster and shamefully let a rutting monster grind at you.

You dare say you can get into this.

There's something so appealing about having a monster yearn for you so madly that he's driven to this senseless and primitive display, that even so much as humping you could have them blissed out. Your legs quake around his and you feel your pussy throb in response to the muted friction from his lightly barbed cocks. It's not the first time you've wondered about how it would feel... You've always been a monsterfucker at heart, and 197 is a brutally gorgeous specimen. He's always imploring for even a single touch from you, if you spread yourself out you have absolutely no doubt he would ram those alarming inches into you like a wild beast.

Yeah, maybe your coworkers would call you a sickfuck, but it's not like anyone who works here is moderately normal...

It's a secret. One that you're vaguely paranoid might not be so secret anymore, now that you've been entrusted with this.

In your horny little stupor, you make the critical mistake of forgetting that breeders quickly detect arousal in others. And you are probably making a wet spot in your pants as of now.

With a sudden snort of an inhale, he rises like a man possessed to start ripping at the sides of your lab coat, forcefully trying to rip it off even as he's unable to stop rocking his hips. He knows how to unbutton things just fine, but you bet he can't be fucked to think much in this state.

" Hey- Hey, easy, slow down. " You grab onto his wrists, being ignored.

Okay. Time to think this out while you still can. He's going to rip through your clothes if you let him, and that's not just needless damage, it'll put him in control. But being aggressive about getting him to stop isn't ideal with this type of monster, you need something that distracts him too much to realize he's not exactly holding the leash here. Eventually, an idea graces your mind, though it makes you grimace a little.

Already blazing with shame, you carefully edge a hand between you and, with some hesitation, grab one of the twin members pushed against you.

Instant reaction.

The monster halts, as desired, and looks at you almost oddly, but hopefully. The trick is not giving him enough time to think, so you quickly get a feel for what you're working with, and start stroking him generously.

It's not the frenzied, rushed jerking he inflicts on himself when his own libido becomes bothersome, the fisting of a large hand with little focus and care. You handle him as pleasurably as you can manage, using both hands on him and attentively reading his face. 197 pants openly again, glancing vapidly at your small hands while they work him and he fucks into the motions, strings of thick drool falling from his teeth.

" Good...? Yeah? " You ask, gulping.

He falters and gasps, trying to articulate something. " Please. " Gets dragged out, his dick pulsing in your grasp.

You don't quite know what he's begging for, but you assume he's enjoying himself. Watching the neglected length bob uselessly, you take the opportunity to remove your own lab coat, switching hands quickly when necessary. The shirt comes off too, leaving you in your bra and pants.

By the time you glance back at him, the breeder's skin has shifted entirely to black, and he's hypnotized by the new parts of your body revealed to him, the mounds on your chest breeder females don't have but that he somehow finds pleasing to the eye regardless.

You make a lifting motion, trying to get his attention. " Knees. Come on, knees. Let me show you something. "

It takes a hot second, but he computes the request and does as told out of genuine curiosity. You're about to show an already decidedly horny monster the wonders of oral sex, which is likely not the brightest of ideas, but no one's here to judge your poor decisions.

197's girths hover far too close to your face while he waits a tad impatiently. Studying the things you'll be pleasing soon, you nearly pale a couple shades, knowing it'll take some prayer not to end up hurting your jaw. The male has lived in captivity since the day he hatched, you've enjoyed showing him some of the nicer things in life from time to time, this is just another one of them.

Carefully grabbing onto the left one, you glance at 197 as you deliberately slip your tongue out, so he doesn't just assume you're going to try biting his genitals. He tenses, because of course he would, but you take your time, stopping the moment only his tip is inside your mouth. The breeder is a tad confused and quaking slightly with ambiguous anticipation.

Then you suck.

And it clicks instantly.

God, just this little of his length is already forcing you to open wider than you've ever had to with previous partners, still, you strain to take a few more inches down and focus on that part.

The male exhales tremulously, experiencing the feeling for the first time ever, you're certain. 197 has to straighten slightly as the first intense waves of pleasure course through him, and bless the big dorky monster, he has no idea what to do with himself or his arms. As your jaw adjusts, a tad uncomfortably, you start truly gouging how much of him you can handle. Not that much honestly, but it's to be expected. It's already more than enough to please him, if the increasingly louder growled trills are any indication.

Oh, you bet this is the closest thing to heaven for him. His favorite human, with a mouth warmer than he could have ever expected, lips much softer than any of his species', no apex predator teeth to get in the way, and a tongue that although flat and short, can still chase after those wonderfully sensitive spots.

He has exactly zero idea how to react beyond making bestial noises and drooling on his own chest like a vapid animal. The way his cock pulses in your mouth is a tad bothersome to the rhythm you're trying to keep, but you figure you don't have to show-off to someone who's never had oral before, he's already blown away.

Humorously, 197's hands land on your shoulders, and that's the only way he can apparently steady himself while he's sucked off. His spare cock oozes precum that smears onto your bare chest and you half-heartedly pump it when you pop off his other dick.

" Is this okay, hm? " Needless question, really.

The breeder doesn't even make an effort to reply, whining at the loss of friction and edging forward until both his members nudge against your cheek and lips, begging without words to have that bliss again.

Feeling vaguely in control, enough to be playful, you lean away from the one closest to you and take the right one into your mouth, sucking it as far in as you physically can before switching to the other one, all just so you can hear 197 gasp and grunt out moans. His desperation causes him to buck, and as you gag, a little lightbulb fizzles above his head.

Oh.

Oh no.

The next time you try to pull away, his hands rise from your shoulders to the sides of your head. Each dark finger nearly curves over the perimeter of your skull, and you freeze instantly, not wanting him to tighten his grasp by any means. Everything is fine so long as he only holds onto your head this way, gently.

He's the one moving this time, apparently marveling at the sight of his length disappearing past your somewhat swollen, drooled lips. Except, as expected, he's going faster and deeper than you'd like, getting into it enough to trigger harsh flutters in the back of your throat. Your gagging and subsequent reflexive jerks are met with warning rumbles and one of his hands caging you in place by the back of head.

He learns fast, needless to say.

The more he drives into you, the less you can control your saliva, creating gross pops and slurps as you have little choice but to huff through your nose. Merciless, not even the odd cough around his dick will stop him now that he's nearing orgasm, or so you're willing to guess by his franticness.

Eventually, he makes the mistake of shoving his cock far enough that your jaw strains and your stomach flips, a grossly loud hurl being his response. The horrid noise finally jolts him to a still, giving you enough space to pull away and catch some much needed breath, controlling your belly before anything unfortunate happens.

" Fucking Hell! " You groan hoarsely, irritated. " You're hung like a horse, be careful... "

The rutting male's fried brain only understands that you sound wounded, a concerned chirp followed by soothing sloppy laps to your jaw being his response.

Not an ideal development at all, and yet, progress.

197 is usually very violent with the breeders they tired to pair him for mating. Which is to be expected, being the golden goose of the facility comes at a cost- The rush of hormones in his machine of a metabolism doesn't just contribute to more virility than his male peers, it also causes bursts of hyper aggression not easily controlled. And the only socialization this one usually gets is fights with other males who feel threatened by his presence, understand that they are being hurt by techs because they fail to live up to the standard 197 created, that they might be killed for such.

The females, likewise, fear him.

197 is bigger, louder, scarier. He has a reputation amongst the other breeders, and some of them were more likely to try fighting him off during their heats than accept getting sexual with him. This has led to 197 rejecting all breeders regardless of the context, which resulted in many of the paired females being immediately fatally attacked whenever a scheduled session was arranged. Sometimes he would simply slaughter them, other times he would actually instinctually attempt to mate, and end up ignoring cries of distress, nothing but rage and hormones in that brain causing him to end up killing them mid-coitus.

Shitshows, complete shitshows you've had the displeasure of partially witnessing in the past.

Which is why you're so incredibly shocked he stopped when he heard you nearly throw up. Then again, you're no breeder, and you like to think you've created as decent a connection with him as possible. It could be that.

When the monster thinks you've recovered enough, he attempts to get you to sit in the same position from before so things can resume, and if the way he's insistent on keeping a hold of your head is any indication, then he's learned he prefers to take control of this. And you won't be the fool that argues with him in this state.

After licking your lips a few times, hearing his impatient little huffs, you take one of those slicked cocks into your mouth again, letting him build the pace back up. On the one hand, you're glad you don't have to pretend to keep any composure, letting yourself drool as much as possible for the sake of making the process easier, and uncaring of the filthy noises that only seem to make his thighs quake. On the other, you need a solution so he doesn't just peirce past the back of your throat.

So, experimentally, the next time 197 pushes far enough to have your eyes rolling, you get a firm grasp of the base of his tail and tug.

The appendage lifts and his spine curves back in sudden shock. You doubt it's pain that has him straightening like a plank, after all, you know these beings can oftentimes carry their young by the tail, so if it can handle their body weight, then it can handle a yank from a human's hand. It's more so a sort of "freeze reaction", effective in getting the male to pull back even if he grunts in mild agitation.

It's only fair, in your eyes.

The moment you let go, 197 continues to fuck your face as he pleases, moaning and curving over you once more to find his own pleasure, until he drives in too much again and you repeat the gesture. Over and over, so he understands there are limits.

It seems to succeed in getting the message across. If he wants to keep getting sucked off by your hot little mouth, then he needs to be minimally considerate.

This goes on for a while, you're almost proud to feel him eventually actively hold back from going too far. Because that would halt the friction, and judging by the way his tongue lolls out in pleasure, 197 wants to come really bad.

He seems to have enjoyed your antics from before, because the male actively pulls out of your mouth with another lurid pop and positions his spare length against your lips, fucking into you a couple times before switching to the other one, doing this enough times that you honestly struggle to contain some laughter.

His throbbing increases and you know his peak approaches, quickly reaching beside you for the container as fingers race to open it. Your spare hand makes an extra effort to stroke the length 197 can't fit inside you and with as much vigor as possible, you complement his every motion.

The second you back away to breathe, strings of saliva still clinging from your lips to his dicks, offers the monster enough of a nasty view to trigger exactly what you need. 197 snarls at the top of his lungs, rapidly fisting both cocks before you. It's a decidedly disgustingly arousing display that has you staring heatedly, until the first rope of thick pearly cum lands on your cheek.

It jolts you into flustered movement, holding the canister up to the closest of his girths, you try to get as much as possible inside, unable to shield yourself from the rest of his load as it lands on your neck and tits, warm globs marking you in the throes of the specimen's ecstasy.

It's immensely relieving for him, the sighed, low and needy moans that rip out his throat evidence enough that 197 had been pent up for more than a while. And you... You're soaked in warm seed, observing his maddened jerking slow down.

This is your job now.

Personally collecting from the golden goose of the facility. All for a bonus.

Whatever, just don't think about it too much.

Giving into the guilty sense of pride you feel over making 197 stare at the ceiling in total bliss, you lean down to catch the trails dripping down those teal blue lengths, cleaning him. You don't have to, by any means, but you've already sunk so low today, what difference does it make if you let yourself go a little?

The specimen's legs tremble and he glances down at you with this utterly cum-drunk, infatuated smile. Dark, stained digits rise to comb through your hair in some kind of comforting gesture until you eventually pull away and allow the male to recover.

Now, two things.

You need to clean up somehow, you don't want his cum to dry on your skin.

There's also the matter of the second canister, you think while you grab one of the cloths in the breeder's nest to wipe your face and chest on. You probably won't be allowed to leave his cell until they're both full.

Reaching for the one already warm with 197's sample, you seal it tight, the small device in it emitting a faint green light and beeping quietly. The signal that one container has been filled is then sent to whichever tech is keeping track of this particularly... Unique task.

A pang of shame courses through you at the thought of one of your coworkers now knowing that you've made 197 orgasm.

Time to get the other one and hurry this up.

Unfortunately, as soon as you're about to set a foot outside of the nest, a huge black hand captures your leg, and you're possessively tugged back by a disgruntled breeder who barely gives you enough time to scream before he starts shredding the rest of your clothes...

Hours have passed. You're sure of it.

As far as anyone's concerned, your work has been accomplished. Both canisters are practically overflowing with untainted samples, sitting in the corner of the room so that nothing happens to them.

You're naked, sticky and likely to bruise in some areas from 197's lack of strength mediation, but you did it.

At any moment now, coworkers of yours will enter 197's cell, and you know it's going to be a total wreck. Between his likely immediate aggression, the damage they'll cause him and your less than sightly state, it'll be unpleasant.

But you can't bring yourself to care.

Not when a tireless tongue continues to groom your already exhausted form and 197's meaty cock lazily fucks globs of his hot cum back into your puffed pussy while he trills soothingly. His breathing has steadied and his heartbeat slows.

Any moment now, he might fall asleep inside you, enjoying a sweet moment of bliss before you're taken away again.

It's almost cruel.

#Bregory #monsterfucker #terato tag #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x human #not sfw #minors dni #pinnie's art #terat0philliac

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conkreetmonkey · 2 months ago

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Splatoon community is great, it's just looking at all these rail-thin, jutting-pelvis-edges J-pop idols and saying "ok but what if they had body fat/muscle aside from that strictly needed to function at a basic level."

And it makes sense too, because most of them are canonically athletes, and a few are canonically huge foodies. Like I get the beauty standards of being an idol and all that, but they should have at least some Mass. Something something repeating the mistakes and flaws of humanity alongside the beautiful and true things.

Anyway, I just love how the community has largely decided this game takes place in a wholly body-positive society. It makes sense, really, in a world with dozens to hundreds of intelligent species. When your neighbors are a 3 inch tall non-anthro shrimp, a 6-armed crab man the size, weight and strength of a Ford F150, and a 10 foot tall, borderline emaciated, neon orange man with rail spikes for hair who eats live basketball-sized snails, you're not going to stare at your own species's fat dudes.

Cross-dressing is seemingly wholly normalized in canon, there's at least basic Non-Standard Pronouns, and Pearlina is so razor-edgedly close to being canon, so interspecies gay celebrities are also all but canon. Why WOULDN'T this society be body positive? There are 5 femboys on every street and graffiti is seemingly legal. This should be a no-brainer. This society has a doctorate in acceptiveness, and we're out here having to add in comparatively high school level stuff.

Honestly, it's an interesting case of the society a piece of media was produced in "holding back" the fictional society within it. Nintendo designs these characters for mass appeal; fittingly, since they're idols. And in Japan, idols are skinny, end of story. But we, the queerest, most hot-chip-eating fandom currently alive, say nay. My version of this character is buff. This one is fat. This one has a cane. This one is visibly trans. If you won't do it, mainstream Japanese AAA studio, then we will do it in your stead. Gimme the reins, Nogami, and say goodbye to Kyoto. We're going to headcanonland.

(christ, this post went off the rails)

#splatoon 3 #splatoon #splatoon fandom #splatbands #splatoon idols #pearlina

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ladydelena · 2 months ago

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Tamlin Relationship Headcanons (SFW Pt. 1)

I think this is going to be a series because I have too many ideas about this furbaby. I'll update my masterlist as I post more headcanons. Tumblr! This is what you were invented for baby!

—--

Tamlin loves nuzzling you. It really doesn't matter when or where. Leaning against one of the spring forest trees? His arms are braced on either side of you and he’s just gently, intently running his nose along your shoulder, suckling on your exposed throat with his warm, soft lips and edged teeth. Laid down after a picnic where you both indulged on too many of the fermented berries you foraged? He’s gently nipping and nuzzling your chest, burying his face in the warmth of it and almost purring contentedly.

He likes being domestic with you. He craves it so deeply, and if you're even away for a day or two he gets angsty at the hollow feeling that creeps into your shared chambers. He’s definitely away for days at a time as well, attending to Springs borders while you attend to your duties in your territory, but he is a domesticated beastie boy who just wants to hold you and breathe in your scent. He wants to share his life with you and he’s definitely become a bit co-dependant, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You guys have a system for when his nights start getting too late and he's backed up on paperwork. You’ve found that the two of you work well in silence, and you often read and summarize what comes across his desk, and then he goes over the bulletpoints, often going with the suggestions you leave. Every once in a while he’ll ask about a suggestion because you guys think so differently, and he genuinely listens- it's led to a lot of positive changes in the court that you’ve implemented together as a pair. The teamwork cuts through the work in no time and the two of you can retire for the night and be together in peace. You even have a shared desk for this exact task, that- well, everyone needs a break from paperwork right? You guys have shared the space in other ways, breaks help the mind work better!

He likes to bite. He has a bit of a possessive streak but he doesn't let insecurity drive him crazy with it. He trusts you and you trust him, but you also like when he’s a bit possessive. You like feeling how much he wants you and needs you near him. Nobody said fae had to adhere to strictly human standards right?

He eats like a warrior but indulges during picnics. His usual meals of lean meats and varied vegetables, the deep red wines, it all keeps his body in shape (cauldron is he always in shape) but during picnics, he loves tasting the little pastries and sweets you bake yourself. He loves feeding them to you even more.

He loves shared baths. He really, really likes when you wash his hair-like, eyes closed and his purring creating ripples on the water. He also knows you love the different fizzing crystals and scented oils and will gather a variety of them from the different territories merchants for you. He also likes plucking whichever rose color he thinks matches the scent and scatters them on the water. The little artsy furbaby- he likes making the evening special like that for the two of you.

He's unabashedly proud of your hobbies. The goofball. He loves the life you bring to the estate and the chaos as well. When you picked up crocheting and made him the lumpiest blanket your first go round? He still uses it to cover the two of you when you lay out in the gardens and read before retiring for the night. The slightly brassy, mismatched cufflinks you made when picking up jewelry making and metalworking? He wears them every day on his uniform.

You make music together. He plays the fiddle and you both write lyrics and you sing softly and happily, as if in time with the spring breeze itself.

#acotar #tamlin #tamlin acotar #pro tamlin #acotar headcanons #tamlin headcanons #tamlin headcannon #a court of thorns and roses #domestic!tamlin

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tgcg · 1 year ago

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part 2 of something specific

CG: I’M GOING TO NEED TO WATCH THROUGH IT AGAIN TO REALLY HONE DOWN WHAT I THINK OF IT, BUT FUCK IT, I MIGHT AS WELL SHARE MY THOUGHTS NOW SINCE WE’RE FRESH OFF OF WATCHING IT.

CG: SO, THEY’RE ACTUALLY A REALLY FASCINATING EXAMPLE OF RED ROMANCE. I’D GO SO FAR AS TO SAY VERY SUBVERSIVE OF ALTERNIAN UNDERSTANDINGS OF THE SORT, COMPARED TO WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SEE IN FICTIONAL MEDIA. IT’S LEVELS ABOVE THE TYPE OF DYNAMICS I WOULD TYPICALLY SEE IN MY NOVELS, DISREGARDING THE QUALITY OF VACILLATIONS AND YOUR QUOTE-ENQUOTE “POLYAMORY” PRESENT. BECAUSE SAKURA’S POSITION IN THIS IS PRACTICALLY POINTLESS, BUT I DIGRESS.

CG: ACTUALLY — THAT WAS KIND OF FUCKED UP, BY THE WAY. WHY IS SHE WRITTEN SO POORLY?

TG: remember when i told you about misogyny

CG: I WILL NEVER FUCKING GET THAT. OUR MOST POWERFUL FIGURES WERE GENERALLY GIRLS. HOW THAT TRANSLATED SO FUCKING TERRIBLY IS BEYOND ME!

CG: AND HOW THE SHIT DID THE UNIVERSE *I* HAD A DIRECT HAND IN CREATING END UP BEING SO MIND-BOGGLINGLY BACKWARDS ABOUT ROMANCE?

CG: DID NOT EVEN AN ERRANT TRICKLE OF MY INFLUENTIAL THINKPAN OOZE MAKE IT THROUGH THERE? AT ALL?

TG: not even a droplet my man we decided to be equally anal about other stupid shit i guess

CG: NO KIDDING!

CG: ANYWAYS.

TG: if yall managed to get through that door and reign supreme over the human race for lip smackin eternity you know mens and womens would be macking on each other in various gender arrangements with gleeful wild abandon

TG: itd be a goddamn utopia

CG: FUCKING EXACTLY! BUT INSTEAD I’M HERE. DOING THIS. WITH A GOD, UNIVERSE PENDING. INSTEAD OF BEING A GOD REIGNING OVER A UNIVERSE MYSELF.

CG: *ANYWAYS*!

CG: THEY START OUT WITH A RIVALRY, SURE, BUT THERE’S ACTUALLY NOTHING BLACK ABOUT IT. THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER ARE STRICTLY POSITIVE, IF HIDDEN BEHIND A MORE AGGRESSIVE FACADE. THE VIOLENCE OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP BOTH COMES FROM THE SOCIETY THEY WERE RAISED INTO, AND SOME OF THEIR MAJOR CHARACTER FLAWS AND INSECURITIES. NARUTO IS FIERCELY DEFENSIVE OF ANYONE WHO JOINS HIS CIRCLE BECAUSE HE’S DESPERATE FOR CONNECTIONS, AND REFUSES TO LOSE THEM AT ANY COST EVEN IF THEY LEAVE SUPPOSEDLY OF THEIR OWN ACCORD. SASUKE SEPARATES HIMSELF FROM THE PEOPLE HE LOVES OUT OF FEAR – AND DESIRE FOR REVENGE AGAINST HIS BROTHER CONVINCING HIM THIS IS NECESSARY.

CG: LIKE, EVEN WITHIN THE FIRST MAJOR ARC IN THE LAND OF WAVES YOU CAN SEE THAT THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER SO DEEPLY THAT SASUKE WOULD DIRECTLY SACRIFICE HIMSELF AND HIS POTENTIAL FOR NARUTO’S. AND BELIEVING SASUKE TO BE DEAD IS THE FIRST CATALYST TO NARUTO’S POWERS BEING RELEASED. THAT IS *REALLY* EXTREME. ESPECIALLY BY TROLL STANDARDS, BUT I UNDERSTAND KILLING PEOPLE IS A MUCH FUCKING LARGER DEAL PSYCHOLOGICALLY FOR HUMANS. THAT KIND OF REACTION TO DEATH WOULD ONLY BE RESERVED FOR A CURRENT OR POTENTIAL QUADRANTMATE… AND IS OTHERWISE ONLY EXPRESSED BY TROLLS WITH DISEASES.

TG: oh yeah like the friendship disease right

CG: UGH.

#davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #homestuck #comix #something specific

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 3 months ago

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So this is another "my vagina's/vulva's orgasm behaviour is confusing to me" question, but I did not find this explicitly in the faqs. So I have a vagina that js probably pretty standard. I get an orgasm pretty easily when I use a vibrator/massager or similar sex toy. I cannot, however, get myself off using my hands. Neither can my partner. We do fingering, oral or penetrative sex, all of which I enjoy a lot, even though I never (literally never) orgasm if no toy is involved. My partner and I are a bit curious as to why getting an orgasm with a toy is so easy for me, but so far, literally no other technique we tried that doesn't involve a vibrator has worked. I'm always having fun when we're having sex, I don't feel pressured about getting off, and my partner is very attentive and has tried many different things during sex. So my question is: Can you sort of "numb" your clitoris if you use toys too often? I've started masturbating pretty early, but I always used mechanical helpers, for example an electrical toothbrush. And I've been entertaining this weird theory that this has maybe led my nerves to only react to quite strong and strictly repetitive stimulation. But maybe this is ridiculous? Do you know anything about this? Coming due to my partner fingering me or going down on me or maybe even during penetrative sex would be something I'd like very much (and also being able to masturbate without toys would be a practical skill to have) so I'm wondering why this is not working so well. I love your blog btw and I've learned so much reading through your asks! Thank you for taking the time to answer so many questions!

hi anon,

you've actually pretty much nailed it! while you can't numb your clitoris, you can teach your body to respond only to particular types of stimuli - some people find themselves only able to get off in certain positions, for instance, or, as in your case, with a very specific intensity and repetition. vibrators are great for a lot of people who have difficulty with orgasm strictly because they deliver such powerful, consistent stimulation! and that's awesome, but it can also make it difficult for the comparatively weak and unpredictable human body to compare lmao.

I'm super glad that you and your partner are already in a place where you feel secure in the way sex works for you, rather than taking the need for a vibrator as a kind of shortcoming (... no pun intended). I think that puts you in a really good place to start experimenting and trying new things together and have fun doing it!

if you want to learn how to get off minus a vibe, there's really on foolproof solution: get that vibrator out of there. not for solo or partnered sex; from now on it's body parts only. that may mean no orgasm for a while, but it sounds like you already have a really good attitude about that, so I hope that won't be too much of a bummer during the adjustment period!

it may take a while, but what I'm hoping for it giving your body a nice long break deprived of stimulation that intense to help it grow more sensitive to touch from a hand, mouth, or other body parts. don't put too much pressure on yourself to be orgasmic right away; just try out different things, pursue new sensations, and try to be playful and pressure-free. even if it doesn't result in orgasm, I hope it can be a fulfilling and fun experience that lets you learn new things about how you like to be touched and experience sensation.

also, pro tip: if you go long enough without using a vibe there's a very good chance you will, in scientific terms, nut yourself senseless pretty immediately when you reintroduce it, so that's something to look forward to.

#sex edventures 2024

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smoft-demons · 8 months ago

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About pacts

The game is kinda ABOUT the pacts, but somehow I feel like the concept is not fleshed out enough in canon. So I’m fixing that! I am making them so fluffy, I am developing them into the magic QPR bond of my dreams lol

(Brief mentions of blood and sex under the cut, be warned)

Ok so. In the game, the pacts have four key functions: 1, allows the human to give the demon binding orders. 2, gives the human a way to amplify the demon’s abilities and strengths. 3, implied, gives the demon a way to do the same thing for the human, to lend them their own strength. 4, allows the human to summon the demon basically for free. Have him on speed dial, I suppose. Summon with no ritual, no spell components, no nothing except an incantation.

That’s cool, I like that. But like,, iirc the game says nothing of the mechanics of this, or how the pacts feel!

I think pacts should be a mildly psychic connection. Nothing like what Beel and Belphie have going on, and no actual ability to put words telepathically in your demon’s head (and vice versa), but like… an Awareness of each other, muted and vague when you’re not actively reaching out through the pact, but just enough that like,, you can feel them vaguely in the back of your mind. You know they’re alive, and you can mentally reach for them if you want to.

When you ARE using the pact, it doesn’t HAVE to be for one of the aforementioned four functions. It can also be… just a mild mental ping, like tugging on a string or tapping them lightly to get their attention. When they reach back, the bond opens up a little bit more, to allow the passage of emotions, flashes of memories, even awareness of about how far you are from each other and what direction you’re in. All entirely voluntary, no invasive mind-reading, but you can mentally share what you want with each other.

I feel like the pacts don’t have to imply romance. But, they DO imply partnership—not necessarily exclusive partnership, in fact probably it isn’t an exclusive sort of thing by default. Plenty of demons have multiple humans, and plenty of humans have multiple demons. The sort of partnership that doesn’t really have a standard box to fit into by average human reckoning. Queerplatonic partnership. Close, emotionally intimate, committed, devoted. But not necessarily having anything to do with attraction, romance, any of that.

These pacts can be purposely strengthened, to make communicating with each other like this easier. Strengthening the signal, if you will.

The key to that is two things: emotional intimacy/trust, and sharing vitality (or however you wanna phrase it. Vitality, life, essence, soul, etc. I mean this to encompass a few different things, and none of those words is a perfect fit for all of them. Let’s say there’s an untranslatable word in infernal that fits perfectly). Specifically, the human and the demon make mental contact through the pact with the intent to strengthen the bond, then do whichever of the sharing vitality/essence/life/soul things that they feel like doing.

For example:

Kissing. An emotionally intimate thing to do that involves sharing fluid. DNA counts as essence, and this is a way of combining it. A textbook, effective way to reinforce a close bond. Doesn’t even strictly have to be romantic! It CAN be for sure, and usually is, but like… you can also kiss the homies out of platonic affection if you want to. Especially if the homies in question are demons in a pact with you. This is normal and chill to them.

Also, simply sharing the same air! Pressing foreheads together (think keldabe kiss minus the helmets), noses touching (i think this is called kunik). Sharing breath. This absolutely counts as sharing vitality. Also, afaik this is a thing people would only have the instinct to do with someone they really love. It’s such a soft, peaceful thing that doesn’t make sense in any other context but trust and devotion and emotional intimacy. Super good way of reinforcing a close bond!

Obviously sex works for this too. Obviously. It ticks all the boxes: reinforces a close bond, combining vitality/essence, can be very emotionally intimate. Probably the most textbook option.

In the other direction, possibly not quite as expected but totally works if you think about it: bloodshed. I’m sure it’s common enough in the ritually combining blood sort of way, but also… think about fighting at your pacted demon’s side, or getting wounded and then being rescued (seems more likely, especially in part 1), and both of you bleeding. Physically supporting each other, spilling your vitality onto each other, each wiping blood off of the other and patching each other up in the aftermath of an altercation. Really, you can’t get more devoted and trusting than that.

Food, as well. Taking a bite of something, then feeding a bite to your pact partner. Your food is the source of your vitality, in a similar way to breath. It’s your life. Sharing food with this intent absolutely works. It works even better if it’s food you made, and/or familiar food that you love in such a way that it’s part of your identity. That way, it works twofold. The physical effect of metabolizing the food is your vitality, and the identity aspect—feeding a loved one something that resonates with who you are—is sharing your essence/soul.

This one’s a bit of a reach, but I think it still works—tears. Experiencing something that makes both pact partners cry, be it a sad story, an emotional conversation, painful events, etc. Supporting each other through that, feeling compassion for each other, comforting each other. There’s no shortage of intimacy, devotion, and trust in this. On both an emotional and physical level, this counts as sharing soul/essence/life.

Sharing soul/vitality/essence/life (whatever the fitting word for this in infernal would be) on purpose like this would absolutely bring pacted partners closer together. Strengthens the bond between them, helps them understand each other, reinforces the love. Strengthen a pact enough and eventually you won’t even need the incantation to summon that demon.

_______

(I am planning to put this in my rewrite of obey me season 1 with my own MC, of course. Once I progress enough to start posting it, that is lol)

(but also, maybe, if I find the inspiration, I might write gn reader!MC oneshots with these concepts. Pls let me know if you think I should try! Also, anyone is more than welcome to use this for your own writing if you want)

EDIT: I wrote a oneshot! The time when my MC found out that strengthening pacts is a thing, with Beel and Mammon. Here it is!

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#obey me headcanons #obey me worldbuilding #obey me pacts #pact headcanon #adhara’s brainrot #obey me brothers #obey me mc #obey me writing #my writing #obey me brainrot #just concepts #i like it so much tho #QPR of my wildest dreams lol #queerplatonic relationship #quasiplatonic #queerplatonic #I am aroace and it shows im sure

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rwrbficrecs · 9 months ago

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First monthly faves for 2024 !! ❤️

Leave a message by @sherryvalli (book-verse)

@dot524: In the mood for some cute, heart-melting fluff? This is a one-shot that recounts Alex’s voicemail messages over the years from those who care about him - including Henry.

would you be my love, my love? (would you be mine) by ohprongs (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: a strictly come dancing AU with a lot of feelings that I've been thinking about ever since i read it!!!

even though we know it isn't true by @matherines (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: for everyone struggling with academic pressure, or anyone, really. it's pretty sad but of course there's comfort personified in Henry!!

beyond infatuation, how obsessively i adore you by @waterloolovers (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: a new fandom classic if you ask me. Henry works at the daycare Alex's daughter goes to and their relationship progresses really naturally. the kid content in this fic is some of the cutest i have ever read and this is the perfect fic to go on your reread list for comfort.

And They Were Roommates by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Alex and Henry get to know themselves and each other after they move in together. This story is not sugarcoated at all, very realistic - just how life is, and so so sweet. Also, unfortunately, rather short, but still worth the read - as are many other stories by this author, such as the 'Las flores' series.

Spirit of the Season by @pridepages (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: A little late to the game but I finally read E.J's Christmas story. Her way of story telling doesn't disappoint in this shorter tale (by her standards). It's not lighthearted and it touches some difficult topics (mostly canon) but it's all worth it because of the way they fall in love through Christmas Eve/night. Can't recommend it enough!

Where There Are Octobers by @iboatedhere (book-verse)

@na-dineee: 31 short chapters that are just really fun to read! Some are post-canon or canon-compliant, others are AUs - but in all of them the characters are so beautifully drawn, true to how we know and love them! A vet AU, a hospital AU, major fluff, even an X-Files AU - and who knows, maybe one or two dribbles will turn into more?! Fingers crossed!

The Art of Losing by bigfishbigpond (book-verse)

@dot524: If you think the mid-story breakup should have been longer and more angsty, here’s the story for you. An interesting and heartfelt story of what Henry and Alex are like apart, and what pulls them back together.

I know that you hate me (Do you though?) by @arand0mdutchgirl (book-verse)

@magnificentandcoolfez: A bit of good ADHD angst (with some comfort ofc). I like the focus on how hard adhd can be and it's a short and good read for those who like comfort that comes in the shape of your crush holding you until you feel grounded again.

blushing ears and beating hearts by @kill8a (book-verse)

@na-dineee: This story is not just slow burn, it is glacial burn. It's an college AU, set in New York, and so slow, so tender, so fluffy - after reading it I was floating on cloud 9 for quite a while. I don't know if you feel the same way, but it's funny how changing one given variable somehow changes the whole dynamic between the two of them. Or is it just me?! Either way, it's so wholesome to tag along as their love blossoms, I still feel so hugged and cared for.

all so human with our guards down by @maxbegone (book-verse)

@myheartalivewrites: a post-apocalyptic story that is unlike any other. There are no zombies or gore, but instead it focuses on rebuilding and the softest love growing between Alex and Henry, surrounded by family and friends. I kinda wanted to live there by the end of it.

The Snow Prince by @orchidscript (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: several fairy tale tropes meet to create this absolutely amazing story. It has dreaminess of a fable, best kind of yearning of your favourite slow burn fics and a little bit of adventure of a fantasy novel.

but to say that I'm a rainbow, to tell me that I'm bright (when I'm so used to feeling wrong, well, it helps me feel alright.) by What_Is_A_Mild_Opinion (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Fandom is really sleeping on this one! This story is a canon rewrite with characters reimagined as creatures with animal characteristics. The wordbuilding is so fantastic that even if you are not a fan of long fics following canon step by step, it's absolutely worth to check this even for a chapter or two and get to know these wonderful versions of Alex and Henry. (Alex is literally rainbow.)

safe with me / more than I ever (in a thousand years)by @indomitable-love (book-verse)

@na-dineee: I think the author is very well known among all rwrb fanfic readers. I really, really liked these two stories, like a lot: Two 5+1 fics, one from Pez's point of view, the other from Bea's - unfortunately both characters are given too little attention in the book imho. As expected, both narrators are sharply observing, protective of Henry, loving, honest, tender - and you end up loving Henry (and Alex) even more.

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

#monthly faves #rwrb fic recs #firstprince #firstprince fic recs

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 7 months ago

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To piggyback off of @shunnedmorlock's post here about the relative justification for both the black and green causes, and how the show presents Rhaenyra's cause as sympathetic.

The in-world choice of who to support in an internecine conflict is, for a lot of lords, ultimately going to be based in self-interest rather than legal, ideological or moral justifications. This fandom fixates a lot on who is in the "right," but the houses that throw their support behind Rhaenyra or Aegon mainly do it for self interest or self preservation. Every lord is going to have multiple literal dragons breathing down their necks, many lords are going to be offered enticements from one side or the other, and some will be considering their own personal circumstances and the precedent their choice sets. A great number of the houses seem pretty determined to stay out of the conflict altogether, even several of the houses that pledge their support in theory, wait until the risk of being caught up in a dragon battle has passed to take any action.

For viewers, our reasons for supporting one side or another are different. Strictly speaking, looking at things from a modern framework, no one has a "right" to the throne. Usurpation is not a human rights violation or even a crime by our standards. Imagine fixating on women being unable to own slaves and thinking that a woman fighting for her right to do so is an expression of feminism. Ridiculous! Certainly it is bullshit within an already bullshit system that a woman comes after her brothers in a hereditary monarchy, but in a just system this conflict wouldn't exist in the first place, not because Rhaenyra would automatically be queen, but because Westeros wouldn't have a king or a queen at all. Liberation doesn't start at the top and trickle down, but rather the opposite.

That said, to modern viewers, Rhaenyra's cause is sympathetic because it feels like an injustice. Most of us don't live within a feudal system and do not have the framework to understand why it's not a form of oppression to be denied the throne. We see it more like a presidential race, in which Rhaenyra is the Hillary Clinton who might have defeated Trump in 2016 if not for misogyny, in which even if we didn't particularly like her, we were disgusted by the fact that that man beat a woman who was at worst no different from many of the men who had occupied the seat before her. To the average vaguely liberal American watching the show, it's insane for fans to support Aegon and the greens and clearly you'd only do it for horny or antifeminist reasons. And you see that a bit in even the showrunners' comments on Alicent being a "woman for Trump," how both they and much of the audience fail to fully understand the historical framework, but in a way that's kind of understandable, because while what happens to Rhaenyra might not be injustice, it is unfair.

If you're looking at things from a historical in-world framework, this is a world in which stability takes a higher priority than equality. Inequality is everywhere, completely baked into the system. If you want to bring about gender equality in a feudal monarchy with a large agrarian population, you have to have first the stability necessary for the rise of an urban middle class which allows for more women to move into the trades, you need the printing press for widespread literacy, which means that more women are getting educated, you need movements such as the reformation to challenge the divine right of kings, and you need to reform the political structure so that leadership is not based on birthright in the first place, because that concept inherently reinforces patriarchal norms even in modern countries that allow women to become queens regnant. So making one woman queen is not going to make things better for women across Westeros, but that woman going to war to reclaim her "stolen" birthright could make things a whole lot worse for a pretty much everyone. This is why you see a lot of history nerds on this site going well, yes but Rhaenyra does have the weaker claim because common law was a big deal in the medieval world and her becoming queen is going to lead to long term succession crises due to the circumstances of her children's birth, so the thing to do would be to take the peace deal. Because while on an emotional level you can understand why she doesn't, it's not the choice that prioritizes the good of the realm.

I think on some level Condal understands (and I think GRRM probably hammered this point home) that you can't really grant anyone the moral high ground in a war of succession if you want to approach the issue with any level of nuance; Rhaenys' speech in the previews for S2 seems to indicate as much. The problem with HotD is that it wants to have its cake and eat it too. It wants to say war for the throne bad, but HBO also wants to make up for the way GoT fumbled the ball with Dany and give the people their likeable dragonriding princess triumphant.

Except Rhaenyra isn't triumphant, she is felled by her own Targaryen hubris and belief that nothing could possibly overcome the might of dragons. It's not Aegon that defeats her, truly, it's the people emboldened in various ways to act against Targaryen interests. It's the dragonseeds she hands dragons to who wonder why they have to take orders from a queen or king when they have control of the kingmaking weapons of mass destruction, it's the smallfolk who face down dragons with pitchforks because they've had enough. They've backed themselves into a bit of a corner with what @shunnedmorlock called the "engoodening" of the black faction, but they can turn it around by showing that it's not enough to be nice to your family, you have to actually care about the people and at the very least (the bar is on the floor, it's fuedalism!) not throw them into chaos, famine, and war for no reason. Give us payoff for Rhaenys' dragonpit scene, have Mysaria and Alys Rivers play a role in their sides' downfalls, show how resentment on Dragonstone allows Aegon to infiltrate. And yes, show Rhaenyra losing herself and becoming a worse person, but in ways that the audience can't excuse as justified. This is how you sow the seeds for that actual progressive change that people seem so desperate to find in the dragonshow, you show how the Dance emboldens the regular people who for the first time realize they can slay dragons, dovetailing into the new show, which stars Dunk, a commonborn man from Fleabottom, and Aegon V, the only Targaryen who ever cared about the smallfolk.

Can HBO pull it off? Ehh. But I remain eternally hopeful, against my better judgement.

#hotd critical #hotd meta #anti ryan condal #team smallfolk

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reddesires · 4 months ago

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RUINS.

Chapter 1: What Are The Chances?

Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader

Rating: No Warnings.

Summary: Could there be a world that would be accepting of kinship between an ape and a human? It's only by chance that you came across him, an ape who craves more of the outside world beyond his clans borders. Will there be common ground, or will your past prevent you from making the same mistakes?

A/N: *whispers* is tensions rising? I think it is! Sunset Trio, my babies fr fr 🤧 I promise it's gonna start getting good, I'm just building up the rhythm of the story, I'm looking to add depth to the Reader by giving a back story and such. I really do have some good tropes I'm gonna be adding to this story! Eek, I'm so excited!

Noa, Soona, and Anaya were strictly forbidden on ever approaching the ruins by the Elders, Noa abided by their laws with obstinate obedience, there was no reason to stray from the laws he was taught since he was a child, he was the son of the Master of birds, there was a different standard he had to uphold of himself, the need to impress his father since he was young overshadowing his every action throughout most of his life.

Now that he's seen the outside world for what it is and learning what it takes to be the leader that he could potentially be, he wants to learn all there is about this world that lay beyond the clan’s lands, meeting both Raka and Mae has drastically changed his perspective on the life they could conceivably have, building the village up with his comprehensive knowledge.

He wandered through these ruined structures, on a mission to bring his people back home but now as he stands before the crumbling formations, he takes in just how massive they are and wonders of the history it holds in its stone walls, just how much intelligence the people who built them long before his time, the memories they withheld as time eroded their substantial walls.

It was very different compared to their own architecture and he wondered of the materials that were used to build this mastery that still stood in the face of time, something he couldn't help but admire as he observed the greenery that ascended up the entirety of the form.

Anaya and Soona stood a few yards in front of him, also acknowledging the giant structure in all its ruined glory, the valley finally theirs to take in with gleeful wonder, the absolute enigma that they were forbidden to ever come close to, feelings of childlike fascination encapsulating them.

They look back to Noa with brimming excitement. “Noa, come!” Anaya called bounding forward, Soona following close behind. He watches as Anaya expertly scales up the walls, when he reaches a decent height above he looks out at the landscape in the distance, admiring the stretch of mainland that extends to the coast harboring the sea beyond that, he remembered the coast as he was dragged by Sylva with Mae close behind, the unfamiliar feeling of the grainy sensation under his feet the memory tainted by the tightness of the rope tied around his wrists, he one day wanted to travel back to reclaim those memories for better ones, preferably by his own choice.

“You're too slow, Noa!” He yells down to him, a goofy grin lining his face, Soona scolds Anaya smacking the back of his head fighting back a grin of her own as he leaned too far from the safety of the structure for her liking.

Noa has always thought of this moment, a time where him being able to experience and explore the lands that laid past the borders of the clan, the old him was content with following the law given by the Elders, there was no ‘why’ it was just law, it was law to always leave behind 1 egg in the wild eagles nest, it was law to not go past the borders.

After the liberation of his clan and the rebuilding of their home, he came out on the side with a different motives, he questioned the world around him, he wanted to know the answers to everything he could possibly learn, Raka taught him the words of Caesar and he's thought back on it often, wondering just how much significance those words could possibly course his life, extending a olive branch to Mae by giving her Caesar's pendant a moving stone of his want for a peaceful world, a life both for ape and humankind.

As he looks up, taking in the sight of his friends above him, he grabs onto the foliage covering that lined the structure, pulling and pushing his way up, his spread feet gripping onto the ledge and jumping up towards the height they sat on awaiting his arrival. “Who would've known we'd see this” Soona speaks, her hand reaching out almost as if she was showcasing the sight before them, the feeling of reverence overtaking him as his green eyes followed the dawn of light from the cracking skies, the cloud taking in the coloration of the heavens.

“Elders forbid adventure, boring. Now, Noa Clan Leader, we can explore outside world.” Anaya remarks as he observes the inside of the structure, the cracked and water stained walls lined with green vines giving off a rustic and derelict kind of beauty, his hand tracing the half paneled floors. The unsettled creaking released under his footsteps, the wind resembling the rushing sound of a stream from this high up, the valley a host of diffident sound.

“Elders didn't know or didn't want to know, I do.” Noa states, he wanted to be different to the Elders, he refused to be confined to old traditions and laws, he wanted to be more than that. A future full of knowledge from expeditions of the outside world, keeping an open mind to those who could possibly help advance their education, they don't have to seclude themselves anymore, they have room to learn and he's determined to make it happen.

“We'll always follow you” Soona affirms, her hand reassuringly squeezing his upper arm, Anaya chitters his arm thrown across Noa's shoulders. “Follow the leader.” Noa only rolls his eyes, his head following the movement in exaggeration to his words.

“Nothing has changed.. I am the same Noa.” He's felt uncomfortable with the thought of having a higher status now as Clan Leader, the towering prospect that he'll have to fill in the position his father withheld for so long, he was supposed to learn all there was to know from his father but now he's learning as he goes, the mistakes overshadowing his every action, his choices not only affect him but his loved one and the members of the clan, it's a difficult pill to swallow and the self deprecated thoughts obscure his mind but he'll have no choice but accept his imperative role as Master of Birds.

“Yeah, same stupid Noa.” Anaya brings him into a headlock, wrangling him in his grip, they hoot and holler as they play into the monkeyshines, Soona exasperatedly watching from the sidelines laughing when Anaya jumps off Noa's back and grabbing on to the sturdy vines, swinging a foot away from him cackling. “Anaya the stupid one.” Noa says, shaking his head, looking at the vines testing the sturdiness of them, the gears turning in his head.

They were only half way up the formation and he admired just how much nature has engulfed the area, the ruins carrying the accents of green as far as the eye can see, the room they were standing in held no remnants of another living being occupying the space but he could see scorches on the floor near the middle of the room, almost as if there was a fire place that was once placed there.

In the corner of the room, there's a sheet of cloth in what seemed like a makeshift bed but he didn't smell anything unusual, just a waft of mint that lingered within the space so he didn't bring his observations to Soona and Anaya's attention. If there was someone here at some point, then they must have moved on long ago. But were they of human or ape descent?

The question gnawed at his subconscious as he knelt picking up a rock formated into a spear head, the rough edges digging into the tough skin of his fingers, there was a hole drilled in the crevice of the top, he was sure it was once a necklace, a K initial carved into the center. A unknown feeling of desolation washed over him as he turned the stone in his fingers, he doesn't linger any longer as he places it in his satchel, this stone had a meaning and he was unsure whether he'll ever find answers to it but the compelling feeling to keep it with him overtook his senses.

“Race you to the top!” Anaya declares already swinging his way up to the upper level, Noa quickly following behind soona as she curves behind the pillar and up the tendril, her voice resonant as she calls Anaya's name. Noa feels hesitant as he looks up at the levels above him, but he pushes it aside, following after his friends, joining their hooting laughter. He felt off as if he was missing something, a presence that sent a chill up his spine, though it could possibly be a figment of his own mind, his thoughts obscured and potent as the feeling stuck to the corners of his thoughts.

As they climbed their way through the levels of the structure, what could it be? What had him feel as he was on the cusp of eager fascination, cocooning his intrigue to the unknown, was it this structure, or was it something else? His train of thought was cut off when the stone of the ledge crumbled under the weight of his hand, a screech bellowed from him as he felt his body fall through the air, his body became a numb husk as he felt the his weightlessness descent, his body automatically trying to grasp onto anything by innate need to save himself from this cruel and unprophetsized end.

Just when he thought he was a goner and there was no hope of anything materializing before him, that he'll meet his end just when he thought this was the beginning for not only him but his village, the village that needed him to lead them into a brighter future, a future that would make his mother and father proud of his accomplishments as the newly appointed Master of Birds, he felt the warmth and desperate struggling strength of someone else grabbing onto his forearm.

A dark figure cascaded by a hood shadowing over their face, their hands digging into his forearm hard enough to get to his skin. he could hear their grunt of exertion carrying his dead weight, Noa stared up at them with stunned silence, his voice giving out at this humanoid figure. As the person pulled him up with whatever strength they could muster, their hood flew back from the harsh winds coming in revealing their face, it truly was an Echo, an Echo he felt the presence of but had no idea they were truly there.

The way their hair flew back from the wind breezing in, their eyes holding a panicked urgency down at him, their teeth biting down on their plush lips, the bluntness of their teeth shining through the gap.

“Mind giving me a little help?” You heavily breathe, your feet skidding on the concrete as you continue pulling him half way into the space, the struggle clear in by the way the veins bulging from the tops of your hands, your head cocked to the right at the strain. He could feel himself nod as his free hand pulled him further up, the stupor still encrusting his every move in doing so.

Soona and Anaya holler for him, hurriedly climbing their way down, he still hasn't mustered up his voice in answering their desperate calls, he's too much mystified by you, by your presence.

“Are you okay?..” The softness of your voice and the fidget in your movements captures his attention. What are the chances that an Echo would save him? He knew that something was amiss when looking into the expanse of that area. He had a feeling of your presence, but he never would have thought he would find you.

Another intelligent being that went out of your way to saving him, the words of Proximus' echoing in his mind ‘where there's one, there's more.’ he was right, there was more intelligent humans out there, and you just so happened to be one who saved his life. What are the chances?

《 TAGLIST 》

@ohwaitimthewriter

@unlikelyfoxpaper

#RUINS.#noa x human reader #noa x reader #planet of apes x reader #planet of the apes #pota #owen teague #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction

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circeyoru · 5 months ago

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Here I am back with another question😀

What if we meet Emily/she learns of our existence?

Learning about the extermination alone really shook her up so knowing of our existence will probably be a whole new level of shock.

But then again she was pretty excited to meet the princess of hell. So I wonder how the meeting would go

This is for {Collection of Overlords}, check MASTERLIST for the work

Hi again!!

Short and simple answer is: It wouldn’t be as big of a bad shock to Emily as compared to learning about the exterminations.

In terms of ‘learns of Collector/Reader’s existence’, I’ll assume that means nearly everything that the hellborns know and keep secret of. The basis of your nickname ‘Collector’ is that you collect souls of the deceased humans sent to Hell. The damned are the ones of little to no importance that you just collect for no reason, Cages are tortured and brainwashed souls that act as your eyes and ears around Hell, and lastly Overlords are ones you watch over and guide to be stronger. Your other alias is the True Ruler of Hell, which obviously means you own Hell and its inhabitants, basically watching over the realm by your standards and everything else. The only thing that’s left out is the whole balance entity thing with Trick.

I imagine Emily meeting us would be something similar to her meeting Charlie but more controlled since you have a more strict and imposing aura around you than Charlie’s approachable sunshine aura, plus your formal attitude. Why? Because from the show, Emily is shown to be protected by Sera ‘for her own good’ so she can focus on being happiness to Heaven and its people/souls. So Emily might not have the chance to meet the higher-ups like Sera does, meeting the highest being from Hell is the first for her and she’s happy to make an impression and gain an experience.

Emily would be excited and anxious, that’s why I say she’d be more controlled. She has no idea how you would act or why you prefer, if anything she does offended you, it could mean war between the two realms. There’s this pressure that she puts on herself before the meeting so as to prepare herself for every situation.

On your side, you heard of Emily from Trick since she was their favourite from Heaven. You have a clear picture on Emily as a person or angel. You do see Emily as a niece of sorts since she reminds you of Charlie from Trick’s description of her and the little scenes Trick would show you when they just can’t stop with just talking about her. Needless to say, there’s no hostility or negativity towards Emily from you, nor will there ever be partly because of Trick’s obsession and protectiveness over her.

The meeting is definitely happening after the show and everything. As for why, where, and how, I have no idea because there’s no season 2 yet and I have not planned for them to meet. All these answers and explanations are strictly for this ask.

In the actual meeting, Emily would be tripping over herself mentally to get herself presentable in front of you to avoid a war and hold in her excitement, since there’s a big difference between you and Charlie. She’ll spat out that she was sorry about the exterminations too, saying she’ll try to do something to stop it all on her side and help Charlie with her hotel project, even telling you about Sir Pentious in Heaven.

If you weren’t won over by her through Trick’s stories, you are now. She is quite the sweetheart and like the Heaven copy of Charlie. You got her to calm down when you have your hand on her head and patted her head softly. Emily would quiet down and bowed her head unconsciously to let you continue, within moments, her eyes closes and she flies closer to you, then proceeds to hug you.

Emily quickly realizes what she done and looks up to apologize, but you hugged her back and combed through her comb while shushing her. Your actions make her hug into your tightly and relax herself to the point where even her wings slumped down.

With time, Emily does learn of your cruelty but there was reason behind it all and she understands that it was rarely ever unprovoked. She also learns of your unique care to Hell and its beings’ freedom that you grant with its boundaries. You don’t hide either side and answer Emily’s questions, you do prefer honest truth instead of a white lie that would paint you in a good light. You never saw a need in such since when have you ever cared for others’ view of you?

The contrast in her expectation and reality makes Emily question things and solidifies that beings from Hell aren’t all evil and bloodthirsty like Heaven depicted. The shocking realization is enough to make her see you as being more genuine than Sera. Scary how you earn others’ favour so easily, right? That’s a charm of yours.

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batsplat · 6 months ago

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do you have any more thoughts on sete&vale rivalry? ps. love your blog!

I ALWAYS have more thoughts about the sete/valentino rivalry and if there is one person on this website who wants to read them then let's fucking go. so my issue is that when I looked at this ask the first time I thought I could maybe give like. a few thoughts. just some casual fun takes. the problem is I've been doing that anyway in my other posts, but there's really only so much point in doing that if I'm not providing any context on events that are by this point two decades old. so. time for some actual context

this isn't going to be exhaustive by any stretch of the imagination. what I'm covering here is two/three incredibly interesting years of motogp that deserve to be experienced and studied in their entirety, but alas I am but one poster on one microblogging website. so this is very much going to be the whistle-stop tour of explaining feuds, before a little bit of analysis to cap things off. (would like to state for the record that I called it 'whistle-stop' when this post was a lot shorter than it is now, but I'm leaving this paragraph in because it'll get funnier the longer you scroll. it's still not exhaustive but it's a lot more exhaustive than I thought it'd be when I wrote those sentences)

this rivalry began in an odd, uncertain period of valentino's career, at a time when valentino had essentially won motogp. he had just concluded his 2002 season and sealed his second premier class title in the process, with his results that year consisting of eleven wins, four second places and a single retirement. it was more or less as good as it gets, crushingly dominant, the undisputed lord and master of all he surveyed etc etc etc. and yet it was also a time where he was ill at ease with his role within the sport and was struggling with motivation, so much so that he increasingly found himself no longer taking joy in his racing. he ended up being so disillusioned with the existing state of affairs that he decided to make a radical move to redefine himself, to control his own destiny, to take the step from a great to a legend

which is all very abstract, in a way, removed from the realities of racing or indeed competition. this was a time in which no other rider could come close to matching valentino as a competitor and everyone basically knew as much. it adds an odd flavour to the challenges an athlete faces, where the success is such that it warps everyone's understanding of what success even looks like (not helped by how the last dominant athlete in the sport, mick doohan, also had a silly good track record in his prime). you could say, if you want, that 2002 is all about sowing, all about vale having so much success that it's started to feel a bit too easy, where he was just coasting on a wave of his own brilliance. 2003? well, now we've gotten to the reaping stage, where he's suffering under the expectations he himself has created, and all this winning is maybe already getting kind of boring

the first task in sports is not to be better than everyone else - it is to win. being better helps, but it has never been strictly necessary. there was no serious question at any point during his rivalry with gibernau who the better rider was between the pair of them. perhaps even more importantly, there was no question who the stronger between the two of them should be. over the years, valentino would have to deal with more than his fair share of young talent who proved they could match him in ability, the riders who had already long been marked for greatness and had the potential to be valentino's successors to the throne. gibernau was not that man - he was older, he was less accomplished, he was a revelation rather than anointed. it's one thing to be challenged by an alien, quite the other to be beaten by a bog standard human. especially if the bar for what constitutes being 'beaten' is set pretty low - never mind full seasons, should you even be losing individual races to this new challenger?

the rivalry between valentino and sete is not one of two equals, neither in ability nor in how their success was measured. but it became one that spawned a close title fight, courtesy of valentino unexpectedly wrestling the yamaha into title contention against his former employers at the first time of asking. valentino's main pressures in those years did not come because of any other rider, including sete - they stemmed from external forces such as honda or the press, from his internal struggles, and eventually were self-imposed in his decision to take a step into the unknown and join yamaha. the shape that this rivalry took reflected the disparity between the pair of them at every stage. valentino's biggest enemy during those years only ever could have been himself - so could sete exert himself upon this narrative at all? was he only relevant as long as valentino let him be? has he been so conclusively beaten that he has allowed valentino to erase him from his story entirely?

the first task in sports isn't to be better than everyone else... but it usually isn't quite this low down on the order of priorities. when 'being better than everyone else' is taken as read, then where does the narrative tension come from? usually, this is the kind of issue that commercial stakeholders and broadcasters and journalists and fans care about - not the dominant athlete of the time. but valentino is a storyteller and he does care. he can't handle stagnation. he can't handle being bored. he needs something to fight for and someone to fight and he needs all of it to happen on his own terms. the rivalry between valentino and sete becomes about everything except who the better rider is - and they happen to be perfectly suited characters for a rivalry such as this. for something that feels a little removed from the typical pressures of competition, of simply doing all you can to win, to beat the other guy, in whatever way you can, to rack up one victory after the other... but what we're primarily talking about here isn't numbers, it's theatre. it's show. and it's about two men who are particularly in tune with the artifice of it all, who are particularly concerned with how the world perceives them. valentino always knows where the camera is, always knows to play to it - and sete knows where it is too, which is what valentino uses to unsettle him to the point of despair

so, that's the set-up. let's bring in the context. what I'll cover here is mostly limited to what transpires during the years in which the rivalry is at its most prominent, aka 2003-05-ish, and mostly stays away from its legacy or repercussions. the first bit covers sete's emergence as valentino's rival, then how he becomes honda's best hope of stopping valentino, then the controversy that ruined their relationship, and finally how sete falls apart. after that, I'll give some of my thoughts about the rivalry and how it functions as a narrative. but again, there's a lot that's being left out here - like the bits of my notes that are just a tally of every misfortune that befalls sete gibernau post-qatar 2004. remember, kids: curses are a nasty nasty business and should be wielded with care

becoming the challenger

sete's rise to becoming a legitimate title contender was in some ways as unlikely as the manner of his downfall. born in december of 1972, so six-and-a-bit years older than valentino, his grandfather was a titan in the motorcycling industry and he grew up both affluent and surrounded by bikes. he's unusually well-educated for a rider, proficient in languages even by paddock standards - and, like valentino, a bit of an aberration from the mould of the stereotypical nineties bike racer. the reputation he had was for being a bit too vain, a bit too metropolitan, too self-absorbed to be suited to the rough-and-tumble of elite motorcycle racing

by the time he signed with the gresini honda team in 2003, his track record was very far from that of a title contender. after various wildcards in the mid-nineties, he'd finally managed to get a permanent seat first in 250cc and then in 500cc. eventually racing for repsol honda and taking doohan's bike when he was injured badly enough to force his retirement, sete's initial promise remained largely unfulfilled and he was dropped by honda after the 2000 season. he joined suzuki, who were struggling immensely in the aftermath of their title courtesy of kenny roberts jr. sete did get his first premier class win in valencia in 2001 in mixed conditions - a rare race that year valentino did not win after making a conservative tyre choice at a track he's in any case always been dreadful at. in 2002, suzuki was still struggling, though the wet conditions in estoril gave sete a chance for an early duel with valentino until he crashed. valentino said afterwards he felt sorry for sete (in a nice way not a condescending way)

^sete's first ever win came in valencia far far ahead of valentino in a lowly eleventh place. incidentally, it was there that a year prior vale's late charge to an increasingly plausible rookie 500cc title came unstuck. it's fair to say it's not exactly his favourite circuit on the calendar, which some might call a sign of good taste

and then, the move to gresini honda in 2003 - to which he also brought his sponsor telefonica, who became the team's title sponsor for the next few years. as I'm sure fans of the current era are able to appreciate, while it might have been a step from a factory to a satellite squad it was a very obvious competitive upgrade. he may not have had the newest spec of honda, unlike his teammate, but he was still satisfied with his machinery and his new team

sete and valentino had already had a good relationship at this point, a friendship that extended beyond paddock walls. they'd get drunk together after races, party together on ibiza over the summer holidays - and of course there's the story of sete giving valentino advice upon his transition to 500cc. previously, valentino's most notable rivals had come from other factories, whether kenny roberts jr on the suzuki or max biaggi on the yamaha. but honda had poached biaggi for the 2003 season and - after a brief blip in 2000 -were establishing themselves once again as the overwhelmingly dominant force of the sport, boasting an embarrassment of riches both in the engineering department and in their formidable host of riders. they were the undisputed kings of motogp and were comfortable in knowing that their bikes were so good that the riders were far from essential, all easy enough to replace if they had to be. all of which meant valentino knew going into that year that his most significant challenges were likely to come from within his own house, though he would hardly have expected sete to lead the charge

but then, a tragedy in the very first race of 2003 changed things. in suzuka, gresini honda rider daijiro kato crashed and hit one of the walls, later succumbing to his injuries. kato had been a 250cc champion and was widely tipped as a future premier class champion, japan's best hope for a first in that category. even though gibernau and kato had only been teammates for a short time, sete had immediately felt welcomed within the team and had worked together closely with kato over winter testing, including helping him out in the wet conditions in which kato had long struggled

the brutality of racing is such that two weeks later, the grid were to line up again at welkom. and it was there that gibernau secured an unlikely, fantastical win from pole position holding off valentino along the way. he dedicated his victory to his fallen teammate - who he said had been with him when he was riding. he wore kato's #74 on his leathers for the rest of his career. whether rightly or wrongly, paddock consensus was that the events had transformed gibernau, had made him into someone who took his racing more seriously, had made him finally commit all his mind and body and soul to riding, to fighting, to winning

^pointing up to the sky at welkom 2003. the number 74 is prominently placed on his upper chest to the right

it also had another effect. kato's death sparked controversy due to the layout of the suzuka track, the decision of the officials not to halt the race, and the rescue workers who had failed to follow proper medical procedure in moving him. both sete and valentino reportedly said they would not race there again, and it did end up being the last year grand prix motorcycle racing came to that track. it also prompted conversations about what could be done to better protect riders - and sete was one of the main figures behind the idea that riders themselves should have more of a say in safety standards. this led to the establishment of the safety commission, which back then included fewer riders but both valentino and especially sete involved themselves in

^sete at a safety commission meeting

did the tragedy really transform sete's fortunes as a racer? perhaps, though the switch to honda and a team he grew so fond of surely would have helped in any case. still, the contrast in his results and how he went about achieving them is stark; we'll never know for certain, but it's understandable why it's such a popular interpretation. another factor, too - despite some initial resistance, sete ended up inheriting kato's factory-spec machinery and was now riding the same bike as the other primary contenders of that season. the first half of his 2003 quickly cemented his new status within the factory, winning again in le mans, and then in assen. by the time they reached the halfway point of the season after donington park, sete was in second place in the standings, just clear of biaggi and only 34 points behind valentino

which is where we get back to valentino and ask ourselves what the hell that man thought he was playing at. did he really believe that it was all right to sit on a mere 34-point lead halfway through the season? was valentino, at the tender age of twenty four, already washed? was he finished? was this the beginning of the end? had he already peaked? did he just not have it in him any more?

obviously the answer to all of those things is 'no' and also 'what?' - but these were questions that many, most notably in the italian press, were in all seriousness asking anyone who would listen. now, valentino had theoretically just won in donington, except en route he had overtaken under a yellow flag and was controversially stripped of that victory after the fact. which meant that - you may want to hold onto something here - valentino had gone for a whole three races without winning. that's right. three races. granted, he'd already secured three victories that season and had been on the podium every single race, but the pressure was beginning to mount on valentino to deliver. it wasn't just the three race losing streak, but also the emergence of sete as a serious rival and how he had gotten the better of valentino - first at welkom by holding him off, then at le mans by beating him on the very last lap. valentino had also separately fucked up in a duel against capirossi for the victory in catalunya (funnily enough not one of the valentino duels there everyone remembers), eventually making a big enough mistake he had to spend the rest of the race recovering to second. honda had expectations, the italian press had standards, and the sheer dominance of his 2002 campaign meant that even the slightest dips in form translated into criticism of valentino and speculation on the state of his mettle or lack thereof. and things were about to get even worse

last race before the summer break and they're headed to the sachsenring - and here we were provided with a classic valentino performance right until the very moment where it wasn't. when sete caught up with him, valentino let him go ahead to study him from behind and crack him at the very end. he made his move on the penultimate corner of the race and successfully got ahead - but made a mistake in picking a very tight line into the final corner and lost too much speed, allowing sete to beat him to the line by a mere 0.06s. the general perception was that this had been a winnable race, and that it had been lost, more than anything else, out of arrogance. he could have attacked earlier - and if he didn't, then at the very least he should have been smarter about the final corner. he had allowed sete to beat him in a straight fight for the third time that year, who was now on four wins that season to valentino's three. all this meant that valentino's winless streak had been extended to four. that's right. you heard me. valentino rossi, the man they call the goat, had the audacity to go a whole. four. races. without. winning. the italian press had a field day and were calling for blood, and who could blame them?

^sete gibernau posing for a photo with a washed-up loser

luckily, valentino had the summer break to go off and clear his head and think about what he'd done. it was a good chance to get away from the constant scrutiny and criticism that had come during a year in which he'd already been feeling discontent with honda from the very beginning. the perception was that valentino had had it too easy and was resting on his laurels, no longer taking racing seriously enough, coasting on past successes that he was finding it hard to replicate - never mind his 29-point lead in the championship standings. so valentino ends up doing what is sensible in that situation. has a hot girl crisis. goes to ibiza. gets his hair dyed red. rocks up at the paddock for brno with his cool new hair as a bit of a throwback - he's still that guy who knows to have fun, he won't let any of this get to him, he's not going to take any of this too seriously

here's a more in-depth post on brno 2003 including, of course, his celebrations. to summarise - he won a tight thriller of a race and this time beat sete to the line, just about. then he celebrated by having a bunch of his fans dress up as convicts and donning his own cap and ball and chain - a 'prisoner of his own success', if you will. another step was taken that weekend on the road that would eventually lead him to abandoning honda and signing with yamaha. and here he is in his autobiography talking about his disillusionment with honda. he's not the first athlete to feel unhappy within his team, not the first dominant sportsperson to struggle to find motivation. still, when you consider how long his career ended up lasting, there's something remarkable to how quickly it threatened to turn joyless to him. if he were one of those athletes who just needed to win to be happy, he would have been fine within honda

but that's what valentino's all about, isn't it. within honda, under the ferocious glare of the italian press, he felt trapped. he felt imprisoned. he felt burdened by the expectations that his own victories had placed on his shoulders. it isn't enough for him simply to win. not if the winning isn't happening on his own terms. not if it's just another way in which honda can show off how superior their bike is. just another means for the italian press to ramp up pressure on him in the future. if valentino doesn't win, then well, it'll be gibernau. it'll be biaggi. who cares? valentino isn't essential to honda's success - the bike is. and vale decided he could no longer accept that. he returned to his roots in brno with the haircut and the celebrations and the candlelight meetings with yamaha that demonstrated his determination to forge his own path. winning is a part of him; when he wins he uses it to express himself, to define both who he is and who he is not - which is where, of course, the rivals enter the picture. valentino delineates his self against the other as much as anyone does, expressing his identity both as a racer and as a person by drawing the line between himself and his enemy and making a spectacle of what separates them. you can only win when you beat someone else, and valentino has always understood that the vanquished is very nearly as big a part of the show as the vanquisher

but here, the relationship between valentino and sete was at the very least outwardly still warm. they were both as gracious in defeat as they were in victory - helped along by the awareness that whatever the frothing italian press might pretend, valentino was unlikely to lose that year's title. still, were tensions beginning to creep in, given how valentino retrospectively speaks in his autobiography about how both biaggi and gibernau complained he had superior machinery? how about when rumours began to fly about valentino's impending move to yamaha and sete supposedly said valentino won't have so much to laugh about the next year? or the glee valentino read on sete's face at the thought of valentino's departure from honda? another point, on the ibiza trips - it's unclear when and how many times they happened, but one source suggests they had stopped in 2003. on the other hand, the brno 2003 race commentary makes multiple references to how they'd been partying together on ibiza during the summer break (which you'd have to say is pretty remarkable in itself after a race like sachsenring), and I'm inclined to trust the race commentary on this one. so maybe it's 2004 the trips tail off... at what point then did the relationship between the two of them begin to transform from friends to true rivals, however genial to begin with? how wary had valentino already grown of sete by the end of 2003?

^age old tradition. sete buddy that kid is going to ruin you

in any case, the remainder of valentino's season was close to flawless, winning five of the six remaining races. in sepang, having already decided he was going to sign with yamaha come what may, he sealed the title with a dominant win over sete - and brought back the convict celebrations, except this time he had a big novelty key to open the big novelty lock, presumably to signify how he could finally escape. which is charmingly on the nose, yes, but there's something enjoyable about an athlete who is so very committed to making the subtext text. how better to conclude his time with honda, who he had grown so very disillusioned with? tell them how you really feel and all that

^after vale has sealed the title at sepang. sete gives him a nice little kiss before assaulting him with champagne on the podium

or - not quite to a conclusion, not yet. after all, there were still two more races to go in 2003. in phillip island, he secured one of the more spectacular victories of his career when he once again fell foul of the 'could you please stop overtaking under yellow flags' thing - but this time, was informed of the situation and his ten second time penalty during rather than after the race. furious at the penalty, he flew off, setting a blistering pace that not only gave him the requisite ten second margin over his closest challenger capirossi, but eventually meant he crossed the line fifteen seconds ahead of his countryman. he had a point to prove that day, and proved it. he might have been on the best bike, yes - but he was laughably better than anyone else riding it, and the world still hadn't seen yet all that he was capable of

then came the last race of the season and the announcement honda and valentino would be holding a press conference together afterwards, widely expected to be announcing a split that for much of the year the paddock refused to believe might actually happen. one more ride on the honda that valentino must say farewell to and will dearly miss - that unfortunately took place at valencia, an ugly bore of a track that valentino has always been awful at, the only one on the calendar he had not yet conquered. but he needed to say goodbye to his beloved bike (decked in an austin powers-themed special livery) in style, and he went on to win the race before telling the world that him and honda were parting ways. time to go to yamaha and prove the haters and losers wrong - including one sete gibernau

^honda or yamaha, friendship can survive anything <3 quite like valentino's unorthodox spraying technique in the photo on the right - sete was admirably determined to drench vale at welkom

honda's next champion?

the thing about 2004, right, is that the dominant rider in motogp had very nicely taken himself out of the picture for at least a year to try and turn that useless pile of junk into title-contending machinery. maybe rossi would start turning things around in the second half of the year and snatch an occasional win. maybe he'd put together a title charge in 2005, though that was by no means guaranteed - it was entirely plausible that his failure would be as complete as it would be spectacular. what this meant for everyone else was that they'd basically been given a freebie. a clear run at the title, as long as they could beat all the other non-rossi challengers. for a number of blokes at honda, this was the big year. biaggi, gibernau, anyone else who was feeling brave - this was the time. and honda, right, were going all in on this. rossi had the audacity, the nerve, the sheer disrespect to turn his back on them and imagine he could win without them. every rider dreamt of being decked in their colours, and valentino had walked away. they were going to throw all the considerable money and resources at their disposal behind a small army of riders, tasked not only with beating rossi but humiliating him

this is all a bit of an exaggeration, but not too much of one. as then-yamaha rider and then-valentino friend marco melandri put it in 2003, "if valentino did come to yamaha at least he would be able to give them direction with development, but he would not have a chance of winning". the best-placed yamaha rider in the 2003 championship standings had been carlos checa in seventh, and all yamaha riders combined had achieved a grand total of one podium finish that whole year. generally speaking, however, once this kind of idle speculation of 'oh imagine if he moved' actually becomes reality, the conversation does shift accordingly, and so the initial consensus of 'surely he can't win on a yamaha' of much of 2003 was already beginning to crack by the time they actually arrived at welkom. and the relationship with honda really did end on a pretty sour note, not least because valentino's former employers refused to let vale test the yamaha before his contract expired at the end of 2003 - which is generally a pretty decent barometer of whether a rider and team are parting on good terms. as valentino put it: "their attitude pissed me off. it will cost me four races, but I always knew things would be like that". in the end, obviously he was still able to make good use of the pre-season testing he did have and he was not cost "four races" - and at the very latest people had to reassess their outlook on the season when he hit the track at welkom. if anything, his immediate pace that weekend was distinctly un-valentino-like - who needs to already be fast on a friday? - and he led every session and qualified on pole. and then, he went and achieved what still remains possibly the greatest victory of his career after a thrilling battle with old foe biaggi right to the very end. sete was a very distant third

^sete drenching vale at welkom. I am once again going to do 2004 prop and let you know that some of the best races are available free online: welkom, mugello, catalunya, assen and qatar are all on youtube (they should upload phillip island but ah well ed.: for some reason phillip island has been uploaded to facebook)

of course, valentino did not have it all his own way that year. of course, sete was not suddenly replaced by biaggi as vale's prime challenger. but yes, sete will have had to readjust his expectations of valentino's season the same as everyone else. after welkom, the conversation shifted definitively from 'surely not' to 'could he really...?' - and all other contenders were informed in no uncertain terms that they were not to be granted a rossi-free season. that being said, of course this still very much looked like sete's best chance. of course this wasn't going to be as straightforward as valentino's past titles. perhaps, even, welkom had provided a somewhat illusory picture of what the competitive landscape actually looked like that season. perhaps people had been too hasty to hand the title to valentino again after welkom. a wet weather specialist, sete secured victory in a rainy jerez, while valentino struggled to get his yamaha to work in the wet and finished fourth - his first time off the podium in twenty four races. at le mans, another race in tricky conditions, sete won once again and extended his championship lead while valentino took another fourth place. the spectacle of welkom might have been a flash in the pan; it might be time to reassess the kinds of results valentino could achieve on a regular basis with that machinery

^left: valentino having fun in the wet of jerez; right: valentino's wood-themed helmet for mugello, because if you finish fourth you get a wooden medal

what followed was a pivotal stretch of three races that turned valentino's 2004 title bid from a dream to something that felt increasingly plausible, even likely. all three of these races were extremely closely fought. all three of them are very enjoyable to watch. all three of them are freely available on youtube dot com. first, they headed to mugello, a big one for both sete and valentino. valentino had won the last two races at mugello and it was the race that was more important to him than any other - so if you're sete, where better to stamp your authority on the season? the race ended up having a little bit of everything: a ferocious multi-rider scrap, a duel between the two main title contenders, a red flag and a restart due to the worsening meteorological situation that resulted in another multi-rider scrap. valentino had to make full use of his skills as well as his composure to go out and in essence win two entirely different races. after the second start he fell back as far as seventh as he figured out the grip conditions, taking his time to fuck around before eventually fucking off (or as much as you can fuck off when you only have two and a half laps left). still, sete managed to salvage a second place result and limited the points damage

^2004 is as close to a perfect season as you can get, but there is one major factor that holds it back: the colour schemes of the title contenders. extremely similar combinations of blue with a little yellow from guys who aren't even in the same factory, let alone teammates - and jorge was always way easier to distinguish from valentino than this mess. what makes this extra stupid is that valentino's actual teammate that year, carlos checa, had a RED livery and RED leathers so. okay. great job guys. anyway, cracking race, split into two halves (or well. four fifths and a fifth). apparently, sete overtook valentino at some point under a yellow flag - or, at least, valentino says he did, which is something he remembers just in time for that year's sepang press conference

so a home victory secured and a hat trick of mugello wins - time to head back to sete land and fight it out in catalunya. top five valentino catalunya duel for sure, a pretty crowded category. sete had led every single session going into the race, but in the end he came out second best in a fight that went on until the very last lap. no longer was valentino willing to let sete get the better of him in head-to-head combat, and the victory was even sweeter coming as it did on sete's home turf - and indeed valentino would establish a bit of a tradition of beating spaniards at that track. the tide was turning and increasingly it did look like valentino might actually achieve the impossible

"One hundred and five thousand screaming Spaniards roar on their hero Sete Gibernau. He's something of an unexpected hero really. After so many years in grand prix, he lived in the shadow of Alex Criville. Criville's retired, Gibernau is on the Honda, and Gibernau is leading the world championship."

^excerpt from the catalunya 2004 commentary

and then, the next race: time for assen

^still friendly and chatting before the first real trial their relationship faces. by the by, the commentary for this race references a cartoon proposing that all that valentino needs to do to keep sete behind him is to attach a mirror to the back of his bike - because sete would be too busy posing. which gives you a general sense of the tone people used to discuss sete with

coming into this race, sete had gotten two consecutive second places to valentino. his championship lead had shrunk to five points. valentino had already gotten the yamaha into race-winning shape sooner than anyone had expected, and now it increasingly looked like he might be able to achieve the week-to-week results that won championships. it also did not help that sete's defeats had come in direct duels with valentino - in the early days of that rivalry, this exact type of duel had been how sete had announced himself as a serious threat. if it came down to another direct fight between the two of them, sete badly wanted to get a win over his rival, not just for points but for pride. and valentino, conversely, wanted to press home the advantage, to bite harder when his opponent was already bleeding. if you will

this turned into a bit of a three-way tussle between those two and barros, but then barros crashed out and it was just the two of them - going into the very last lap with sete ahead. valentino, who was having to risk far more on the yamaha than he ever did on the honda, made a lunge up the inside of turn 12 and almost binned it in the following corner. nearly losing the front resulted in contact with sete, where sete's front wheel hit the rear of vale's bike and damaged the front mudguard - and in the end sete backed off just a touch, allowing vale to cross the line with almost half a second in hand

valentino was enthusiastic in his celebrations, shall we say, whereas sete... well. sete did not look thrilled. gone were the usual parc fermé exchanges, no more hugs or friendly handshakes or kisses. sete suffered his way through the podium celebrations as the wettest of wet blankets, popping the champagne for about half a second and staying rooted in place while valentino carried on doing his thing. the natural assumption would be that sete was furious not just at losing but at the manner in which the pass for the victory was executed, out of control and in a way that could have easily resulted in a crash for both of them. valentino certainly assumed as much, saying that sete was "for sure a little bit angry" (clip here, also includes sete's statement). but when it was sete's turn to speak... he just said he was frustrated at losing, as anyone would be in his situation. which, well, doesn't quite fit in with his reaction, and also doesn't entirely match up with other statements he made at the time. there are two more sets of quotes from the protagonists of the race, though I can't determine with absolute certainty in which order these things were said. here's the first (article dated day of the race):

Gibernau lost vital time in that clash and was not able to challenge on the remainder of the lap but Rossi insists he did not deliberately block the Telefonica Movistar Honda rider. "I came into the bend a little too quickly and I slightly lost control of the front of my Yamaha, which explains why I touched him, but it wasn't intentional," he said. Gibernau did not use the incident as an excuse for his defeat. "To be overtaken in the final meters after dominating the race, it's obviously gutting," said the Spaniard. "I was angry about the way he overtook me. His manoeuvre really was risky. He said he didn't do it on purpose, but it doesn't take away my disappointment."

and here's the second (article dated the day after the race):

"I made a mistake and had to brake early or I would have crashed," said Rossi, explaining why he slowed so suddenly in front of the Spaniard. "I did not even feel Sete touch me. He was very angry, but I explained what happened." For his part, and after having chance to cool down, Gibernau appeared to accept that the contact hadn't been deliberate. "I had a good chance right until the end but we touched on the last lap - Valentino explained that he almost fell and, if that's the case, then there's nothing for me to say," shrugged Sete. "These things happen in racing. We had a good battle in another great race."

if that indeed is the order in which their statements were delivered, this whole episode feels like an interesting exercise in passive aggressive feuding - sete could have of course simply gone up to valentino, supposedly his friend, and asked for an explanation, or stated his objections openly when asked about them in the presser. instead, it seems to have been valentino who offered his explanations after sete had denied even having any issue with the overtake, with sete contradicting himself later by saying he had been angry. even then, sete said it didn't "take away my disappointment", which suggests not all was forgiven. from parc fermé to the podium to the press conference, he'd used every part of his body with full effect to express his displeasure with the notable exception of his mouth. this incident hasn't really been brought up by either party since, but as far as the eye test goes the relationship sure seemed like it was pretty strained by this. with the benefit of hindsight, it stands out as a turning point in their rivalry, the first time the veneer of the gracious loser was well and truly discarded and a sour note was added to the relationship. this was also the race where the championship lead was taken away from gibernau on countback, which incidentally was the last time an independent rider led the world championship standings until... uh... *squints at notes* argentina 2018

^already post-assen - but no reason not to be civil, right? what's a little last lap assen controversy between friends. scholars will note that this is the race after which valentino engaged in some unsavoury parc fermé activities with sete's then-teammate colin edwards

for the sake of brevity, the next part of the season is mostly going to be skipped over, but to give you the sparknotes version: sete's results grew more inconsistent, and valentino gained more of an advantage, despite still having to over-ride the bike in a way that helped cause his dnf in rio (his first dnf since brno 2002 and his first non-mechanical dnf since mugello 2001). apart from a brief period where biaggi seemed like he was going to reinsert himself in the title fight, plus a sete win in brno, for the most part the tide had clearly turned in valentino's favour and that yamaha title was looking more and more like a certainty. so let's pick up the narrative at the next major flashpoint between the pair of them, at motogp's first visit to qatar

I've already written up a post that gives more information on that race and the specifics of the controversy, so I'll forgo another detailed summary of events here. the basic facts we have at our disposal are that valentino's team, whether to his knowledge or not, rubbered up his spot of the grid, and he was then penalised for it. he worked his way up from the back of the grid before crashing out of fourth place. sete won, reducing the gap separating the two riders at the top of the standings to a mere fourteen points with three rounds to go. valentino was furious at sete, at honda, at the stewards, at pretty much everyone. here are some of his remarks:

"Gibernau's victory is not real. They stole the match from us with the shameful farce of the penalty. A truly incredible situation occurred. Everyone cleans the starting 'box'. Is there a written rule? In Rio we all went to wash the track, which was dirty. The same thing happened here. In F1 the cars skid, the asphalt is cleaned with the motorbikes. After Friday's practice [before the Saturday race] we saw Biaggi's mechanics cleaning the track and we thought it was a good idea. We cleaned the track and Honda screwed up. The others have to attach themselves to something. Gibernau and his chief suspension mechanic didn't hesitate to snitch like kids. Something ridiculous. I didn't expect to get to this point. In the race I gave a lot in the early stages, after two corners I was eighth and after four laps I was already in fourth position. I spent a lot and relaxed for a moment. Unfortunately I went wide and couldn't find the curb anymore. I made a mistake, but I wouldn't have made such a mistake if I had started from the front. I hope to make up for it in Malaysia, fortunately I didn't get hurt in the crash. It went well for the finger, when I saw the blood I was scared. But the finger didn't explode."

^some of these websites have a habit of collating a bunch of different answers into one paragraph of remarks but personally I am choosing to believe he did actually deliver this as a single monologue

valentino also said he had been looking for an excuse not to speak to sete, called him a child, saying sete had essentially stabbed him in the back. and of course, so the legend goes, he infamously vowed that sete would never win another race again

who snitched?

everything up until now has been more or less just summarising events as they happened - but now we enter considerably murkier waters. we do not definitively know one way or another what happened in qatar, who said what, who was responsible for what. let's get the less important mystery out of the way first: did valentino really curse sete?

no, not in the sense of 'did valentino rossi really perform black magic' - more the question of if he ever really said it. a lot of journalists who are otherwise at least mildly reputable seem to take it as read, but also a lot of journalists are motivated to believe he said it because it makes for a fantastic story. when did he say it? to whom? one source talks about it being at the press conference of the following race, which I know for a fact is not the case. here's a source that is one of the ones to have swayed me more to the side of 'yeah maybe he did say it':

Rossi then did an interview with Italian TV. He’d hurt his little finger, really mashed it up, in the crash. And he famously said “I will make sure Gibernau will never win another race because of this”. We’ve all got a soft spot for Valentino, and I can remember thinking ‘oh God, I wouldn’t have said that if I were you. I really wouldn’t have said that…’

I know this is objectively not a lot to go on, but at least it's a commentator/journalist who was there at the time, claiming they remember finding out about it, giving a little detail about to whom it supposedly was said ('italian tv') and having an immediate response to it that they are also remembering. obviously, this too could be bogus. but, well, at the end of the day I'm with the journalists here: I too want it to be true because it is indeed a fantastic story. there has also been the suggestion, again poorly sourced, that valentino has denied saying this - or, and this genuinely would be my favourite option of them all, that he said he only meant it for that year. hate it when I place a curse on someone and it accidentally lasts too long

now that I've done my due diligence, here's the good bit: beyond a certain point, it does not matter whether valentino actually said it or not. what mattered is that everyone thought he said it - and, crucially, as 2005 wore on, it became ever more part of the discourse. it was part of the reporting of races: could gibernau finally break the curse? it was discussed extensively in the commentary: we're back in qatar, do curses have an expiration date of a year or not? there is no way that within the claustrophobic world of the motogp paddock sete would have been been able to avoid it, let alone be unaware of it entirely. (incidentally, the fact that this is the case and I've not been able to find a better source of valentino denying it makes me again feel like he did actually say it - though I suppose it'd also be pretty funny if he hadn't said it but was like. actually this is working out quite nicely for me.) assuming for a moment that valentino is not capable of literally cursing people, the 'real effect' the curse can have is only in tormenting its victim through the mere knowledge of its supposed existence

but we're getting ahead of ourselves here. whether the curse existed or not, it could only have the effect it had if valentino fulfilled its initial promise - by denying sete another win that season while securing the title for himself. so let's just quickly recap where we're at: three rounds to go, fourteen points between the two contenders. valentino went back to italy to try and fix the fucked up finger and presumably to cool off a bit. the motogp media did what it does best and spent the entire week hyping up the drama. and there was, of course, another mystery everyone was still trying to get to the bottom of: was sete really involved in valentino's penalty?

let's first tack on another question: does it even matter? of course, the truth has never been established with 100% certainty either way, and all it does is give the two parties a reason to blow up a friendship that was already getting a little bit strained. either way, the relationship between them was ruined; either way, valentino crushed sete. not just that - whether it really happened or not is one thing, but I feel just a touch more confident in asserting that valentino believed it happened, just from my extreme vibes-based analysis of how genuinely furious he seemed and how he was still referring to sete's dirty games a whole eleven years later. which, of course, doesn't in itself really tell us one way or another what actually happened. valentino can convince himself of all manner of things. if anything, his track record as well as how ruthlessly he exploited the situation to his own advantage count against believing his version of events. and, at the end of the day, only one of valentino and sete can speak to sete's involvement in the protest that caused the penalty with complete certainty. it's not valentino

and in a way, it doesn't really matter. sete is unsettled either way - because even if he did have some hand in the penalty, this is the kind of low level petty snitching athletes and their teams constantly engage in. I cannot imagine he would have thought valentino would react as he did. quite honestly, I'm not sure sete could have conceived of a rival reacting like that to anything. if sete was responsible, then valentino still managed to escalate to a level of hostility sete would never have been able to match, let alone be comfortable with. obviously, it would not be in his interest to retroactively admit any involvement in the matter, not least because he saw how valentino responded to the mere assumption of sete's guilt. it does, however, still matter in evaluating sete's assertions that the relationship between them changed more or less from one day to the next (which *gestures at the above wall of text* I'm not entirely convinced by), and in judging whether this is a feud that's entirely built on the back of valentino's delusions. was sete really completely unaware and, a separate question - was it an unreasonable assumption from valentino that he was involved? if both of those questions are answered in the affirmative, then you do have to say what follows must have been absolutely bonkers from sete's perspective. I mean, it's kind of bonkers anyway, but. y'know. even more so

the problem with actually evaluating the claims are that basically every source about it frames the whole thing differently and often in contradictory ways, to the point where even valentino's actual allegation has been shrouded in the mists of time. different journalists and commentators and authors after the fact have confidently asserted that either hrc or sete's gresini team lodged the protest - some seem to take it as read that sete did indeed have some kind of role in it, and there is no indication whether they have some kind of privileged information that backs this up or whether this is simply valentino's influence making itself felt. hrc is obviously a likely suspect, given they canonically hate valentino and are praying for his downfall and have invested a whole lot already to bring it about. then again, gresini are the ones who are actually in this championship battle - and, of course, there's the distinct possibility that all parts of honda were involved in this together. other figures that have been brought up are gresini team principal fausto gresini who it has been claimed was personally involved in making the protest - this from the stuart barker biography, which treats it essentially as established fact. the barker biography also says that yamaha was not found to be breaking any specific rules, but race direction said it was against the 'spirit' of the sport, which... okay, I'd also be pretty annoyed to be penalised for that, especially at that stage of the season. while it is of course possible that sete was not involved in his own team's actions, it does seem a little less likely that he would not have at the very least been informed. to add another twist, one version of the story that has cropped up more than once is that valentino's allegation was that sete and his crew chief juan martinez went to hrc to get them to go to race direction. also, it may be that ducati protested both valentino and biaggi (who was definitely breaking the rules). which, good on them

unfortunately this is pretty inconclusive stuff and at a certain point it feels like you have nothing better than gut feeling to rely on to choose which narrative is more convincing to you. which is annoying! where's the substantial evidence! nowhere, it appears, not that I've been able to find it - but there is one more tangible source that I haven't brought up until now. you see, dorna, in their infinite commitment to the bit, have been kind enough to make the thursday press conference at the very next race one of the very few of that era that they have uploaded in its entirety. I am talking, of course, of the pre-event press conference at sepang

^posing for a friendly post-presser photo <3 two guys just chillin' having fun having a laff

if you are an aficionado of awkward and tense and kind of awful press conferences, then you will have an excellent time with this one. I've uploaded pretty much all of the relevant bits that I'll link to as I go; they're not obligatory watching to understand the rest of the post as I will be covering them here anyway, but they sure are interesting (and funny, which is really the most important thing)

first, let's set the scene: four blokes sitting at a table. the seat at its centre sits empty. the championship leader has not yet arrived when the press conference starts, removing the opportunity for one of the most sacred rituals that preempts any motogp press conference: the vibe check. a lot has happened and a lot has been said since the relevant parties last saw each other face to face and it is unclear where the vibes will be at when the reunion happens. will they acknowledge each other? make eye contact? shake hands? speak to each other? the journalists have not had a chance to find out. and one of the two involved parties has not either

after some softball questions relevant to 'racing' and 'points' in 'motogp' and its 'title fight', the moderator finally gets to the bit everyone's actually here for: the drama [1]. at this point, sete dates both the presser and himself by saying he's been trying to block everything out with his "mp3", before expressing his sympathy for valentino and saying he doesn't hold any of valentino's words spoken in the heat of the moment against him. at some point, he delivers a couple of lines that possess the kind of concentrated narrative juice you get a sugar high from, saying "we all know valentino. I know how he really is, he's a good guy". just as he finishes answering the question, his eyes flick over to the side - and the camera pans over to valentino entering the room with a slight smirk and of course his big ass sunglasses still very much adorning his face

nicky hayden sits to valentino's left and is interviewed before valentino is - while valentino does not acknowledge sete, who is sitting to his right. when he is questioned [2], valentino initially sounds like he is intending to turn the page on the whole affair and if anything doesn't particularly want to comment any further on what has happened. he also manages to deliver a truly classic motogp rider line, saying "I have a hole in the finger, but I think it is not a big problem for ride this weekend". right! but already here, it becomes swiftly clear that he is still furious at what happened and aggrieved by the penalty. he caps things off with a nice line saying that at least he wasn't actually slower than 'gibernau' in qatar, before turning around and shaking hayden's hand and chatting to him

it immediately becomes clear that all the questions from the floor are going to be about the same thing [3], and sete looks miserably uncomfortable while valentino just comes across as incredibly surly, his smile at times taking on a mildly murderous quality. one journalist fires off an all time classic presser question with "in qatar you say you were searching for an excuse to not talk any more with sete" and again valentino side steps, half-making it sound like he's willing to move on - while sete continues to strike a conciliatory note, continues to stress how it was all just the heat of the moment. but a follow-up question to valentino gives the journalists and sete the clearest indication that this, in fact, is really happening. valentino says this is not in the past, that he'd already said what he thinks last week and is standing by it. sete looks over at him - with disbelief, with incredulity, with the air of a man who really can't quite believe the turn this has taken

if there had been any lingering doubt at how unfairly treated valentino feels, he dispels it in his answer about stewarding decisions [4]. at the end of his exchange with the reporter about it, he brings up an incident where sete overtook under a yellow flag in mugello - which, quite honestly, I had not known about and I haven't found any reference to, so maybe nobody did spot it at the time if it indeed happened. remember, valentino had gone through not one but two bad run-ins with the yellow flag situation the year before, costing him a win at donington and making him ride at his limit to reclaim the win at phillip island. did he speak about this mugello situation at the time, or has he really just carried it around with him silently for months? a professional grudge-carrier, you have to say, a true master at the art. at the next question, valentino continues putting space between himself and sete [5], saying they have been rivals for a long time and that "it's the same condition" (i.e. situation). the friendship isn't just gone, it's so gone it might as well have never existed. if you really want to read more into this than the short response deserves, you could argue he's saying the facade has been lifted, that the true nature of the rivalry has been revealed at last

and now, we get to the critical part: sete is invited to explain himself and tell the press whether he had any involvement in the penalty or not [6]. he's clearly put a lot of thought into this in the past week and decided what he should focus on is that he wanted all the grid slots to be cleaned in the interest of safety. interestingly, he says "they" blocked him from doing that, but it's unclear whether he means gresini or someone else within honda. (presumably honda couldn't have known valentino's team would fuck about with a scooter, and remember camel honda rider biaggi also got a penalty so probably not some kind of company-wide internal memo.) (I mean I guess it'd also be funny if there had been a company-wide internal memo but nobody had thought to send it to biaggi.) sete's argument is basically that he'd be a hypocrite if he'd helped lodge a protest after he himself wanted the grid slots cleaned up - but given that valentino is quite literally calling him a backstabbing bastard, I imagine he wouldn't consider adding the hypocrite tag a bridge too far. the safety commission element of it all is kind of interesting, given as we've established valentino will likely have attended too. if sete raised this at the meeting and valentino did end up discussing it with his team, did vale end up feeling suckered into making a bad choice? probably not, just a thought

anyway, back to gibernau's response. as the journalist who asked the initial question notes, this is all a lot of waffling without a clear, firm denial (I'm paraphrasing) - and a clear, firm denial would generally be a good way to go about these things. in his next answer, sete again fails to just keep things simple, though again he denies any personal involvement. and then, the journalist asks sete to account for his team, including the fact that apparently one of sete's mechanics gave evidence to race direction... and sete says he can only speak for himself

so there we have it. that's the best singular piece of actual evidence I've got for sete's involvement, and at least comes close to confirming that somebody in gresini was involved in the protest, however tangentially. obviously, this in no way confirms sete was himself involved. at least it does give valentino an ever so slightly more reasonable basis of suspicion, though obviously it all just raises more questions like 'why was a gresini mechanic even giving evidence and what about'. that bit is then of course immediately followed by an exchange that's as good a confirmation as we're going to get that it was hrc not gresini who made the protest. so. yeah. I've got nothing. we don't know. draw your own conclusions. the presser ends with another question for good measure about the relationship between the two riders. sete first tells them, more or less, that it's none of their business before sharing a nice laugh with valentino about how valentino is never going to talk to him again

cursed

the thing about that press conference is that it's all well and good and fun to use it to try and piece together what really happened at qatar, but there are more interesting things to say about it. it is in that press conference that valentino well and truly begun the process of breaking sete, and he did so completely deliberately. it's quite the little show featuring two guys who are entirely aware that they are surrounded by cameras and reporters and are reacting accordingly. sete is committed to being dignified, to being unflappable, to being magnanimous: whatever valentino said, he will forgive him. he is happy to move on. but as the press conference progresses, he is slowly made to realise that his opponent is the one who is not ready to forgive and is not ready to play nice - not even for the cameras. especially not in front of the cameras

^his poor pinkie finger :(

sete must have felt on top of the world after qatar. he had clawed back 25 points. a championship that had already seemed lost suddenly felt like it might be in his grasp once again. valentino could complain and whine and be furious for italian television, but surely this is the kind of thing that blows over. for too long, sete is under the mistaken impression that they will move on from this. for too long in that presser, sete is playing at respectability while valentino has already progressed to open hostility. it's unnerving, of course it is, to suddenly be completely cold-shouldered and ignored by a man you had thought you were on reasonably good terms with a week ago. it's unnerving for it all to happen in front of cameras, when for so long you have been striving to present a cordial, friendly, civilised image of a rivalry. him and valentino don't do all that nasty business, not like valentino and biaggi. sete's better than that and valentino has grown up a bit - this is one of those ideal rivalries people are always going on about, the ones that are ferocious on-track but respectful and even warm off it. and so, despite everything valentino had said to the press over the past week, he still manages to completely blindside sete in the moment. he still manages to leave him unsettled, and even disoriented

and so we get to the race itself, pivotal for sete and his championship hopes. to still have a chance at clinching the title, he really needs to be fighting at the sharp end of all three of the remaining races. alas, it is not to be. valentino is reinvigorated after the humiliation of qatar and coasts through the weekend on a wave of irreverent indignation - telling reporters after qualifying on pole that this result had been important "especially since it means we know which part of the grid to clean tonight". he thrives in the chaos and the frenzied speculation and the seething tension - whereas sete is nowhere to be found all weekend. valentino wins with a comfortable margin while sete finishes a lowly seventh place. a healthy thirty point lead in the championship has been restored. now, then, in victory valentino has been provided with the opportunity to really twist in the knife. sete comes up alongside him on the cooldown lap, clearly wanting to shake hands - and valentino completely ignores him, does not as much as glance in his direction. then, he stops for one of those whimsical planned celebrations that he's ever so fond of, and he cleans his grid slot with a helpfully provided broom. as valentino says afterwards, "this time I wanted to destroy the morale of everybody". and if that wasn't enough, he adds in the post-race press conference "for me, sete did the best race of the season. he has given me a lot of points, which is like a big present. I am really grateful". charming as ever

^he also came up with his own cleaning crew founded with his trusty crew chief jerry burgess, 'la rapida', and had shirts mocked up - to 'eliminate dirt from motogp'. so nice to have a supportive crew chief, isn't it? from valentino after the race: "I've been working with jeremy for four years, together we've seen all sorts of things and when I arrived here I saw him with an incredible face, disgusted, saddened. he and the team said we had to react and so we did". and as jb put it, "valentino is the sort of rider I wouldn't want to get angry. he can take you apart on the track". the text on the shirt: "we clear out rats. we disinfect, clear drains and clean starting grids. we also do night jobs - all done in six seconds [aka the qualifying penalty he'd received]"

two races to go, and it's match point rossi. he finishes first or second at phillip island and the championship is his for certain - if he doesn't do so and sete wins the race, it's hello title decider. there is barely any doubt left in people's minds, then, about who the 2004 champion will be... but it's not a done deal. in the very worst case scenario, valentino enters the final round with a slender six point advantage. he's not safe yet. he's not safe yet on the very first lap, which, it has to be said, is a lot of fun. vale gets a better start than sete does from pole, but sete overtakes him around the outside and vale is quickly pushed to third - then fourth, at which point he runs off track and makes a risky excursion into the dirt. at the very next corner, he makes a downhill overtake on two ducatis at once, and sets about hunting down sete who has built up an advantage of over a second

so, in fittingly dramatic fashion, the race comes down to a duel between the two of them, valentino stalking sete around the track lap after lap. if valentino holds his ground, the championship is his - but sete takes the win and can go into the next season with new confidence and self-belief and hope for something better. valentino does not just want to avenge the injustice of qatar; this is an investment for the future. a way of telling sete that he has not just lost this season but that he will always lose, when fighting valentino. there is a promise to be kept, after all - whether it was only supposed to apply to that season or not, valentino refuses to let sete win another race. they exchange overtakes but sete is still just about in the lead when they enter the final lap. it is here that valentino makes his move, not once but twice to make it stick. his riding in that last lap isn't egregiously reckless but certainly not risk-free, and could have ended with him in the gravel and the championship still undecided in valencia. but he's not and it isn't - and just like his first premier class title (a comparison valentino himself makes in his autobiography), his first title with yamaha is sealed on the last lap of phillip island. his championship-winning shirt is uncharacteristically stark, reading simply 'che spettacolo' ('what a spectacle/show') - and he's not wrong. this has been a show, it's been a miracle, and in the end it's been theatre. he's sealed the title in style while also getting his revenge. it's winning in the most satisfying manner you can win anything: by beating somebody you loathe. celebrations are nice, but isn't there just something special about seeing the person you despise look so wholly miserable?

sete puts on a brave face, determined to be above valentino's pettiness. he goes over, shakes valentino's hand. valentino accepts. of course he does - he's won. sete was a few corners away from denying valentino's curse before it had ever really sunk its claws in. would it have changed things, if he could simply have regained a little confidence and found his bearings again after the psychological onslaught of the sepang weekend? maybe, maybe not. of course, looking at valentino's 2005 season, you have to say valentino was almost certainly operating on a level no version of sete would have been able to match. but there's still a lot of room between 'fighting for a championship' and 'becoming a shell of the rider you once were' - and if things had gone a little differently, you do also have to say that a championship as open as 2006 was could have represented opportunity for all manner of rider. if only he'd been able to cauterise the wound in phillip island, rather than letting valentino dig his teeth in even further

^at least capirossi's having a good time :D

the championship sealed and there's but one round to go. once again the paddock must regrettably visit a track that some critics have described as 'drab' and 'soulless' and 'the enemy of good racing', and one at which valentino has only won once before. but the way to tease out a special performance from valentino is generally to give him a point to prove, add in a little spite to get the fires spitting, and he wins at the circuit for the second (and last) time of his career. in front of the spanish fans too, which must have felt particularly satisfying - and the race itself isn't all too bad in the first half (the way valentino gets past gibernau/biaggi is quite funny). home hero sete takes fourth, and that's a wrap on the 2004 championship

there's something deceptively comfortable about the final numbers: 304 points to 257. 47 points. no problem. but sports isn't just numbers; it's the story those numbers tell. valentino was furious in qatar and he made a mistake and he ended up in a position where things don't have to go all that differently for him to lose the title. the momentum was on the side of his enemy, whose confidence and morale had been given a much-needed boost. the genius of the entire sepang weekend, from the press conference to his jibes in interviews to his dominance performance-wise to the cold shoulder to the pointed celebrations, was that they all worked together to stop that momentum cold

maybe it didn't make much of a difference - valentino was always in the stronger position given he both had a points advantage and was the faster man. but faster men have lost championships before. ignore raw pace and performance edge and all of that: valentino wrested control of the intangibles - momentum, self-belief, all of those abstract things that defy rational analysis - and brought them firmly back onto his side. sete spent the entire weekend off balance, unsettled, forced to discuss things that made him uncomfortable, engulfed in a media storm he was ill-suited to coping with. all the while, valentino relished it and used it to spur himself on. by the time sete had regrouped in phillip island and was far cooler - if still respectful - towards valentino, it was already too late

in the interest of eventually finishing this post, we're not going to cover sete's downfall in that much depth. but there is still one last critical blow that valentino has to inflict to truly bring an end to the gibernau experiment. the very first race of 2005 was one that valentino particularly wanted to win - not just to inform his competitors that this year would be more of the same, but also because they were once again on sete's home soil. time for jerez

^new year, new sete! this time he's going to show that italian upstart what's what

as ever, the media had done its best to hype up this new season. sete would be getting full support from the factory (which, yes, feels like maybe they should have considered providing a touch earlier) and he made it clear he was ready for the challenges ahead, ready to get revenge and all that. the spanish had grown fonder of their unexpected challenger too, and showed up in full force to support their man in the opening race. of course, a lot of people quietly agreed that realistically speaking, the competitive picture was looking pretty ominous. 2004 should have been the season in which valentino got the yamaha project up and running, setting up a title challenge in 2005. but he was ahead of schedule and surely the yamaha would only get stronger. still, you never know, right? that's why we line up on sunday etc etc

valentino stole pole position from sete right at the end of qualifying, but crashed in warm-up and ended up using his second bike, which is never ideal. the start was already feisty from both parties, and for a while valentino was relegated back to third. but sooner rather than later, he assumed his familiar position sitting right on sete's rear tyre, showing sete his wheel here and there just to remind him where he was. remember the whole sachsenring debacle after which valentino told himself that he wasn't going to leave it that late again? well, he was actually nice and sensible here, and made a move with two laps to go, successfully passing sete for the lead

which should have been the end of it. nice and clinical, a lovely relatively stress-free culmination of a whole race's work where valentino had diligently studied his opponent's strengths and weaknesses and had formulated his plan accordingly. job done, another win on the board to start the season. except then valentino decided to make things interesting again on the very last lap by out-braking himself on the back straight and running it wide into turn 6, allowing sete back through. there's a slightly frenetic energy with which valentino immediately hops back onto sete's rear wheel, already a touch of desperation about his lunge on the inside of turn 11 where he briefly goes past - but he's in too hot and sete's back in front

what all this means is that valentino really only has one opportunity left at turn 13 and barely any time to conceive of it. there's no planning or calculation or strategy here. valentino has one option to attack if he wants to win this race. it's a dive that is instinctive rather than planned - the only calculation here is that he would rather crash them both out than let sete win the race. back then (and a bit ironic from a modern point of view), valentino's infamous dangled leg was seen as evidence that he was out of control, doing anything he could to get the bike stopped while going for a gap that wasn't really there to be gone for. they make contact, valentino manages to get the bike turned and sete goes off into the gravel, but can get the bike back on track to finish second. valentino does a wheelie over the line. sete makes a thumbs down gesture

the spanish fans decide pretty quickly whose side they're taking in this. there's booing, whistling as valentino completes his victory lap, going full ham as he pumps his fists and claps at them and does a thumbs up and waves and puts his hand on his hip and all the rest of it as they scream at him. parc fermé is tense, the eye of the storm in the midst of the deafening roars of the crowd, with sete giving vale a couple of long looks as he gets off the bike. it's all big drama, everyone consulting their teams, talks of appeals to race direction, valentino grimly satisfied while sete is aggrieved, furious - stretching out his arm, clutching it, shaking his head while shaking teammate melandri's hand. he approaches valentino, says a few words to him as he walks past - valentino is not particularly interested in engaging in conversation. the crowd demands valentino's disqualification, and also call him a son of a whore. they're also obviously still booing. and whistling. lots of noise

on their way to the podium, sete is making tortured progress, pausing for a moment in the stairwell to clutch at his arm. at this point, valentino takes a moment to take the piss out of his rival, turning to the camera with a big smile and gesturing at sete. eventually they make it to the podium and vale laps up the displeasure of the spanish crowd. valentino smirks while sete goes for a sort of pained dignity, thanking the spanish crowd for their support, claiming the moral victory and all that. the italian anthem is almost inaudible

^sete always tried to go for a kind of stoically disapproving vibe, helped along this time by his pain in the shoulder. unfortunately for him, he does just come across as thoroughly defeated. which he was

the problem that sete faces here is that, while valentino is obviously more accustomed to a rather friendlier reception, it's also not like he particularly minds the spaniards giving him a hard time. valentino has claimed his fourth victory in succession, and has done so by once again denying sete on the very last lap. he has sent a message that this new season will be exactly the same as the last and that he remains exactly as determined to make sete's life miserable. while he does seem to think sete is playing up the shoulder injury, in general sete's solemn grimaces are like catnip to him. just before the anthem, he reaches out to shake first melandri's hand and then sete's - and sete hesitates, before extending his arm to the fullest extent to shake valentino's hand with about as little proximity as is physically possible. it's good sportsmanship, but it does also as good as tell valentino he's not going to kick up too big a fuss. in a way, whatever choice he made would have played into valentino's hands. even though this time sete may have directly confronted valentino, he's still not prepared to escalate things beyond that... and valentino knows it

^one of the classic rancid vibes podiums. the hands on hips at the ceaseless spanish booing is a nice touch

this choice to avoid further escalation is one sete continues to abide by in the press conference, echoing the assen presser from the year before beat for beat. again, valentino comments that it was a great battle, that sete is surely angry but, essentially, it is what it is ("this is the racing"). again, sete congratulates valentino for the win, but refrains from complaining about valentino's actions during the race. he has since said that he talked to race direction about it and was incredibly disillusioned about their choice not to penalise valentino - but again, not a whisper of it to the media with valentino sitting next to him

the one thing he did say was that he hoped he'd be fit to race in estoril because of his shoulder. remember the whole clutching at his arm routine where valentino (and the commentators) were kinda taking the mickey out of sete's comically pained expressions? well, um, turns out he did have a lot of pre-existing shoulder problems, and indeed that was the bit of his body that caused him considerable problems for the rest of his motogp career:

Gibernau dislocated his collarbone when he crashed out of the lead of the 2002 Portuguese Grand Prix on a Suzuki GSV-R, suffered a left shoulder tendon injury during his last turn clash with Valentino Rossi at Jerez 2005, then damaged the same shoulder further when he fell in practice for the following Estoril round. At the 2006 Catalan Grand Prix, Gibernau broke his left collarbone after spectacularly tangling with Ducati team-mate Loris Capirossi at the start of the race. Gibernau required a further operation shortly after when the titanium plate inserted to help his collarbone heal was found to have weakened. The new plate was in turn damaged when Gibernau hit Casey Stoner's fallen Honda in the penultimate round of the season, again at Estoril, marking the end of Gibernau's factory Ducati - and, it seemed - MotoGP career. Before making his 2009 MotoGP comeback, Gibernau had the metal plate removed from his collarbone, only to suffer shoulder ligament damage during training - forcing him to miss the final pre-season test.

well, anyway, after the controversy has had two weeks to continue on full steam, valentino does strike a somewhat more contrite note in the estoril pre-event press conference. he says he hadn't been aware of the whole shoulder situation and that sete had been unlucky given it had been a light touch in a slow corner... but having rewatched the footage he can see how, yes, maybe the contact could have hurt sete. these things happen, right? and at the end of the day, it doesn't really matter for valentino, because the controversy blows over. what remains is the blow (psychological rather than physical) he dealt sete. what remains is that he won and sete lost, again, and sete has still failed to win since qatar

"And I really think that as long as he wins this race, even if he only takes five points back off Valentino Rossi, he will be happy with that, because it's all about getting back to winning ways. He hasn't won since Qatar last October. He's got to take a victory, just to get his season back on course. Valentino Rossi is going to take a lot of stopping, and really all he can do is try and win this race in front of his home crowd." [...] "That race in Qatar, and the problems they had in that race with Valentino Rossi crashing out after having to start from the back of the grid was really when all the problems started, didn't it, for Sete Gibernau. [...] But really that's where his problems started, both on and off the track for Sete Gibernau after that race victory in Qatar. I really can't believe he would've believed that was going to happen. He was so, so pleased to win that race." [...] "This is a big big thirteen laps for Sete Gibernau, isn't it. If he can hold off Valentino Rossi, psychologically, it would be a very very big victory for him."

^excerpts from the catalunya 2005 commentary, the sixth round of the season. valentino had said in the presser after the preceding race that he expected biaggi and melandri to be his main rivals that season. sete leads for almost the entire race before valentino makes his race-winning overtake with three laps to go and smashes the previous circuit record on that lap

what remains is one failure after another. an important thing to stress when we talk about a 'curse' is that sete gibernau did not suddenly stop being a frontrunner after qatar 2004. he qualified on pole five times in 2005 (same as valentino, funnily enough - his average grid position was actually better than vale's, 2.82 v 4.12). even so, things go from bad to worse for sete. often valentino does his own dirty work in stopping sete when he's getting a bit too close to that elusive victory, winning a close duel in catalunya, pressuring sete into a mistake at the sachsenring, that kind of thing. often, he does not even have to. sometimes he took himself out, like crashing out of the lead in the wet conditions he was once so very skilled at in estoril (not helping his injured shoulder) or in donington park, where valentino went on to deliver perhaps the finest wet weather performance of his career to take the win

"I don't think anyone can be to blame for crashing out in these conditions, can they. [...] It really is at that stage of the season for Sete Gibernau where it's all or nothing, really just got to try and win races. We're now twelve races since his last victory at Qatar. Valentino Rossi promised after that race that Gibernau would never win another race and well it seems to be coming true so far."

^excerpt from the donington park 2005 commentary, the ninth race of the season, where sete crashed out of the lead in horrendous wet conditions

valentino's favoured way of winning races played into his hands here. pressure, pressure, pressure - preferably exerted from right behind his victim, with the knowledge that valentino is waiting and studying and ready to pounce on any mistake. even if you don't make any, he'll probably get you anyway. the effect of these defeats becomes nicely cumulative, where even the knowledge that valentino will be coming (even if he isn't there yet), that eventually he will try and pass you (even if he hasn't done so yet), is enough to make his opponents self-destruct before he even has to lift a finger. what he does to sete is the most extreme version of how that tactic typically works, by slowly eating away at sete's confidence and composure and self-belief until the eventual error feels increasingly inevitable. valentino knows it is coming, sete knows it is coming, and they both play their parts accordingly

"But Rossi straight after Gibernau, now he'll start those pressure games. Pressure is on Sete Gibernau. He has not won a race for a year; the last race win was here. And the man he doesn't speak to, he doesn't speak back to him either, Valentino Rossi, behind him, and Rossi will start exerting the pressure Rossi-style as we know." [...] "A year ago, wasn't it, it doesn't seem that long ago, doesn't it, that Sete Gibernau was so delighted to win the race here. And Valentino Rossi really left in a strop, didn't he. But there we are, Sete Gibernau - but we've seen it before, and Rossi seems so have this ability to faze him, out at the front, put pressure on him." [...] "Well, Nick, you said at the start of this race that Valentino Rossi has plenty of motivation to win this race here. He wants to take ten wins for Yamaha, it would be the first Yamaha rider ever to do that in the premier class. He wants to end a drought almost in his terms, certainly since he became a Yamaha rider - he's never gone three races without winning a race before, but that could happen today if Gibernau holds this out. And of course the one thing he really wants to stop is Sete Gibernau from winning a race one year on from the day that Rossi said he would never win another one for the rest of his career." "How long does a g-'s curse take, I mean, is it just a year, the g-'s curse and then does it come off? Because if it is then he's just about right, isn't he? [...] Perhaps the curse is gone; perhaps this is just what Sete Gibernau needed."

^excerpts from the qatar 2005 commentary, the fourteenth round of the season. sete looked like he was making a break for it ahead of valentino and then melandri. six laps to go melandri almost causes valentino to crash and costs valentino over a second, but it doesn't matter. this time it's melandri who has the honours of coaxing a mistake out of sete, who goes off into the gravel as melandri passes him. valentino overtakes melandri for the victory

sometimes, he did just seem cursed in the truest sense of the word. his bike running out of fuel on the last lap while he's still fighting valentino for the victory. mechanical dnf's. other riders barging him out of the way before valentino even has the chance to. he switched manufacturers for 2006, getting a spot on the ducati factory team: his last race with honda was ended by an engine failure and his first race with ducati was ended by an electronics failure. a freak boot protector malfunction that left his foot bleeding halfway through the race. a nasty crash in catalunya, followed by his ambulance crashing into a bus fifty metres in front of the hospital entrance. in the end, it was probably the injury caused by casey stoner bringing him down in estoril that pushed him definitively into retiring - after he was dropped by ducati in favour of casey. so it goes

obviously, valentino cannot be held responsible for anything in that last paragraph. you can't mind game your opponent into having their engine blow up, at least I don't think you can. the stuff before that is fair game. what valentino did in jerez essentially stopped the title fight before it could even get started. it was ruthlessly effective in removing sete as a significant player at the top of the sport. sure, it's always hard to attribute a competitive decline such as this one to any single factor. but if ever there was a time to maybe just blame one person...

sete more often than not has kept his silence about the rivalry. in 2005, he generally did not go much further than saying that the whole thing was one-sided and started by valentino, see this (from one of oxley's books):

But don't ask me about him as a person, I'll only speak about him from a professional point of view, that's about it. I don't know why he's got a problem with me because I've never had a problem with him. I've always had a lot of respect for everyone on the grid, I just wish everyone shared that respect, because once you lose respect you lose everything.

on a similar topic, at some point he has also spoken about the qatar controversy again, saying the following:

He blamed me but it was nothing I did. Of course I didn't report him - I didn't even see what happened. I'd had a very good relationship with Valentino for many years but after that it just came around.

in 2009, at the time of sete's ultimately short-lived motogp comeback, he went along with the slight farce of a reconciliation, shaking valentino's hand and talking to him with cameras watching - the season after valentino had regained his crown in '08. but it is fair to say not all is forgotten. at times, he has done his best to draw a line under jerez and continues to refrain from criticising valentino publicly, like this from 2017:

The Catalan avoids criticizing the Italian for any controversial maneuver, such as that of Jerez 2005. "At the time I was living, based on my values, principles and education, I tried to do things as well as I knew how. And I am very proud of what I did ." Sete explains what it means to battle Vale. "We did very nice things fighting against a phenomenon, he may be the best in the history of motorcycling. I am proud to have fought face to face with a guy who is a phenomenon," he explains.

(obviously, you can read this as valentino not following whatever values, principles or education he might have possessed.) at other times, he's been a little more openly critical. in 2020, he still did not criticise valentino as much as he did the response to the overtake, which he felt set a bad precedent and has contributed to the normalisation of a more aggressive style of racing in the years since:

I don't know how many times we've talked about that corner, but the more time goes by the more I understand after that, things change. Many people were seeing that move, and from that moment on it opened the door for it to happen many more times. At the end of the race, both of us did what we thought was best for the championship, and my opinion can be whatever. But since then things have changed in MotoGP and racing is understood, which I don't agree [with].

he also adds this:

When asked if race direction would have looked into that incident had it happened today, Gibernau responded: "To tell you the truth, no. I don't think so. "I've got different thoughts on that side, which are mine, and like I said I don't need to be right or wrong. Everyone has his own thoughts, and if I put myself now in a situation where I was watching a race and I saw what happened there [at Jerez] where two guys risking their own lives touched each other in a difficult last corner, and I was looking at it with my son who would like to become a road racer, and everyone would give the victory to a guy that has touched another one, I wouldn't be wanting that to happen. "I don't want anyone to get hurt. It's one of my priorities and it's how I understand sport and racing. MotoGP is already so dangerous that in my opinion we should all put together our know how to avoid these type of situations. Is it difficult to do? Yes. Is it impossible to do? I don't think so. It's responsibility to whoever is in charge of the championship and to put the rules where we need to stay away from this type of situation because, like I say, we're risking more than just a crash."

and even more recently, in 2023, he's spoken about the jerez race being the source of his disillusionment:

If I'm telling the truth, Jerez 2005 made me lose my enthusiasm for being in the races. I tried to maintain it until the beginning of 2006, with Ducati, and when we could have won, a mechanic left a gear screw unadjusted and the gear lever fell off. That day, in Jerez 2005, I mentally retired. Valentino went inside and took me out. They didn't penalize him. It's my personal opinion, everyone will have their own opinion and it must be respected, but I think that this is not a contact sport.

also in 2023, in a separate interview, he said this:

But he didn't get a punishment or anything, and then I started to lose my faith in the sport. [...] I couldn't understand how, y'know this was not a contact sport, I couldn't understand... things happen in the championship and things had been going on inside and everything and I just lost my - started to lose my illusion in the racing.

which is later in the same interview followed by this (which is partly about his woes in 2006 - he also talked about the moment with the gear screw, but I think pinpoints that rather than jerez as the day he mentally retired):

I had done such a big effort to put myself to a position to where, I was fighting against my own demons, I was fighting against the championship, I thought no one's helping here. I was fighting against one of the top guys in the history of racing, which was Valentino, and I just thought, but, Valentino doesn't even need to do what he's doing to win, and no one is saying nothing. There was many things there and I just couldn't understand... I'm fighting against everything, you know, and I was expecting the championship to just be a little more neutral on that side, just to say, if someone does something wrong you've got to say, in my opinion, it's not a contact sport; it's already dangerous enough to being able to say you can hit someone and say, wow, that was a great move. [...] Everyone is brave on a MotoGP bike. Moto3, Moto2, MotoGP, from the first guy to the last guy, you cannot pinpoint on TV and say how brave this guy was by hitting another guy. Because if I'm a dad watching that I would not want my son to be in a championship like this. Because it's not bravery, it's not about hitting another guy - if you want to do that, go boxing. [...] And from a guy like Valentino, which is, a superstar, why accept that? I think it was wrong, in my opinion, he didn't need to do that. Since then, many things have been happening because of that movement. Because kids saw that and said that's the way to do it. And then Marquez is doing it to this guy, and the other guy is doing it to the other guy, and you get killed in racing. It's already dangerous. We should stay away from that. That's why I never understood - it got to a point where I just - oh man. It's nothing to do with me here any more, you know, and I just left racing and I retired.

for the most part, then, sete is still quite contained in his criticisms of valentino, focusing on the jerez incident and not really delving into what happened the year prior to that. he mainly questions why valentino even felt the need to do what he did to sete, and suggests valentino set a bad example to others - especially kids watching, especially future riders. his criticisms also concern motogp as a sport, those who set the rules and those who regulate them, in not doing anything to stamp down on this kind of racing. he says he felt like he lacked support from the entirety of the sport and eventually decided that he'd had enough

I haven't added this block of text just because I enjoy transcribing large portions of three hour long podcast interviews that didn't really need to be three hours long (apparently the most tried and tested method of getting riders to share their more candid thoughts about anything) - but because this, uh, average-length tumblr post wouldn't really feel complete without it. it's all very well and good to talk about how sete was mentally 'broken' by what valentino did to him. you can have whatever opinion you want about the thoughts sete expresses here on riding standards and acceptable levels of aggression. you can also maybe doubt whether it really was just 'disillusionment' with race direction's approach to valentino's jerez pass that caused his competitive decline - obviously, three hour confessional podcast interview or not, this is a narrative he's still chosen for a reason and it sells himself and his career in a certain way. but - but - especially given the exact circumstances in which his rise to title challenger status occurred and how heavily he involved himself in the safety commission... well, at the very least I'm not going to leave it out. should he have made his complaints publicly known at the time, if this is something he felt so strongly about? is this level of criticism warranted by that specific jerez move? it's tough, because from the modern perspective of course I too have gotten used to a kind of racing where that level of contact is fairly normalised - which two riders this century have played a disproportionate role in bringing about. on the one hand, valentino is right in his defence that relatively speaking, this is far from the fastest or hardest contact out there. on the other hand, it's a move that was made with the knowledge it would result in contact. and in doing so, he injured sete, because that's what can happen even as a result of relatively 'light' touches. make up your own mind! it's not an easy topic to address, and I most certainly wouldn't be able to do it justice here. let's wrap this up

of delusion and despair

valentino has always been intensely aware of the power of narratives and takes care in how he tells his own story. the most literal version in which anyone can tell their own story is, obviously, by publishing an autobiography - which he did in 2005, covering everything up until his first title with yamaha at the end of 2004. it is not presented in chronological order and is instead organised in a far more loose thematic manner, with valentino not feeling any compulsion to give all parts of his life anywhere close to equal attention. still, when you read it, certain omissions do jump out at you - and the exclusion of gibernau is perhaps the most remarkable. you could say it's because he doesn't want to speak ill of his rivals, but he has no problem going into a fair bit of detail about his feud with biaggi. you could say it's because the gibernau rivalry was still going on at time of writing, but the same is more or less true about biaggi who placed third in the 2004 championship. there is not a single paragraph in his autobiography devoted to the relationship with gibernau. every mention of him is just that: a mention. a name thrown in without care when discussing something else entirely. you are told vale passed gibernau to win the 2004 championship - but if you read the autobiography without any other knowledge of valentino, you'd be forgiven for not realising gibernau had been his title rival at all

yes, within the grand context of his career, biaggi does have to be seen as a more significant rival... but this narrative was still being written in late 2004, at a time in which valentino had committed himself to destroying sete. maybe valentino doesn't want to comment on controversies that are still bubbling along, but the sheer extent of the erasure feels far more deliberate than that. this is somebody who had been valentino's friend for years, enough so that they spent time with each other outside of work, went on holidays together, blokes who for all intents and purposes truly liked each other's company. somebody who had been his closest rival for two years, who had pushed him closer than anyone else had in his title runs, who he had experienced some of his greatest career defeats and victories against. according to the narrative presented by the autobiography, he might as well be just any other rider. it's worse than fury, worse than loathing: it's disinterest

(it has to be said, quite possibly the funniest omission is when he's talking about how "angry and disappointed" he was after qatar because of, and I quote, "honda having lodged an appeal". ... anyone else you thought was involved, valentino? .....?)

which is quite the punishment to enact. one reason why this rivalry is so tricky to analyse is, yes, it's one that's quite old by now, but also because we are drawing from a far smaller sample size of valentino comments - almost all of which were provided at the time - when you compare it to any of his other major rivalries. sure, he still talks about jerez 2005, when he's asked about it - though it might as well just have been another fun race, another dramatic victory, another controversial overtake, rather than anything that had any greater significance. (of course, there is also a clip of him forgetting about the race entirely when thinking about last corner overtakes in the premier class with sete in the room - which you can read into if you so choose.) he's talked plenty over the years about his first yamaha title in 2004, but not about the man he beat to secure it. this was his closest title battle of the ones he won (just pipping 2009), but he might as well have won it against a faceless amalgamation of the honda corporation rather than an actual living breathing rival. it's as if that title battle started and ended in welkom, where it was biaggi not gibernau who valentino had to best. even though publicly the two of them set aside their feud in 2009 and valentino even said then that they could be friends again, this feels like lip service more than anything else. in 2015 at jerez, valentino was questioned about the parallels to his relationship with a certain other rival, who was friendly with valentino at the time but had crashed out while battling vale in the previous race. valentino in response acknowledged his past good friendship with sete, but said it was different: after qatar his relationship with sete had gotten worse as a result of how sete had "played a dirty game". if he had not changed his mind about sete's character eleven years after the fact, why would he have reevaluated in the years since?

it is fair to say that gibernau was the least talented of valentino's major rivals, the least substantial figure in terms of his accomplishments in grand prix racing. biaggi is a four time 250cc champion; nobody needs to be reminded of the achievements of stoner, lorenzo or marquez. sete is the rival who wasn't even supposed to exist; he was catapulted into the position essentially overnight by tragedy. and yet, even acknowledging that, it feels like he is under-discussed in the canon of valentino feuds given the sheer quality of their on-track output (let's face it, there are more great vale/sete battles than there are for say vale/casey) and the high drama of their closest title fight. yes, you can say that's because it is one of the older and less well-remembered rivalries, because it is not quite as dramatic and significant as the biaggi feud... but still, it's quite the disparity. given the power valentino holds in writing the stories within the sport, how can you not conclude that he has played a helping hand in this erasure? being ignored is a far greater indignity than being despised - and after 2004 valentino has barely even offered sete the honour of his hatred

^sete tried to breathe new life into his motogp career by switching to ducati, but his campaign was derailed by injuries. it was probably scant consolation in his miserable 2006 season, but valentino himself was pretty cursed that year. their last on-track battle came at phillip island, in the series' first bike swap race while valentino was fighting tooth and nail to save his doomed title defence. it's admittedly one of like twenty things that happen in that race, but it is quite funny how sete really came back to life just in time to make valentino's life harder when he really didn't need him to. valentino overtook sete on the final corner of the race for the final podium spot

of course, it is a hell of a lot easier to erase a rivalry when you win it so conclusively. in truth, as an opponent, valentino got the measure of sete fairly quickly. he never lost another direct duel against sete after sachsenring 2003, having essentially vowed as much to himself even when they were nominally still on good terms. the 2004 championship was as close as it was because of valentino's unequivocally inferior machinery and the somewhat less consistent results he achieved as a consequence - but even there, when they fought directly for the win in mugello, catalunya, assen and phillip island, each time valentino came out on top. (you can argue about brno '04 - I'd say it doesn't really count since sete ended up running away with the race with a massive tyre advantage.) still, you don't have to be winning all your direct duels with your opponents to be winning the championship - and at the end of the day, sete did come tantalisingly close to a title, or at the very least forcing a title decider. whatever it is that differentiates 'very good riders' from 'champions' is what sete is lacking. he has something in him... a self consciousness, a self awareness even, that is lethal to professional athletes. he was stuck trying to manage the image of his rivalry with valentino, when valentino was moving in for the kill. valentino too is heavily aware of image, is heavily invested in how he tells his own story - but more often than not, he manages to use it as a weapon to spur himself onwards to further success. when valentino did so once again in late 2004, sete stumbled

it is not novel to suggest that valentino needs enemies to motivate himself. plenty of people within the sport have said it, including his fellow riders. that's what's always worth remembering about the 'mind games' - sure, it's great if he unnerves his opponents, but often it is about providing himself with someone to hate though there are exceptions to this, which I have a lot of thoughts about relating to one casey stoner. valentino needs to have a reason to do what he does; it's not enough to win for the sake of winning if there's no story. in 2003, he had more or less won motogp and was finding it harder and harder to motivate himself, admitting repeatedly that he was losing his joy and passion for racing. yes, this was one of the main factors that led to the move to yamaha: to give himself a reason to keep going. but it was also just the right moment for another rival to emerge from nowhere and give valentino somebody new to focus his attentions on. when you read the limited autobiography mentions of sete and his interactions with valentino in 2003, it seems hard not to conclude valentino was already feeling a little less kindly towards sete by the end of that year. the relationship did not survive contact with a true title fight, where valentino found himself pushed closer to the limit than he ever had before. the moment he was in real danger, he blew up the relationship and walked away with literal full points for the remainder of the season. at the very next race to start off the new season, he made sure sete would never be a threat to him again

it's natural to conclude from all of this that the feud was built entirely on the back of valentino's delusions, of valentino inventing a concrete reason to despise sete that was based on his mental list of sete's past transgressions, imagined or otherwise. and maybe it was. did sete really snitch? did valentino really think he did? what was it that convinced valentino of sete's guilt? and even if sete was involved, was this really a proportionate response? this is where a lack of evidence and both parties' reticence to discuss the incident in the years since works against us. but - looking beyond the specifics of what happened in qatar, it does feel likely that the relationship would have deteriorated beyond what we saw in assen anyway. that's what a close title fight tends to do to the people involved. isn't it?

sete makes for a suitable foil to valentino because he too intensely concerns himself with how he is perceived. when vale takes on sete, one pretty boy to another, they are both a little too aware of the artifice of what they are doing, a little too concerned with the optics, the image, the spectacle. rivals, friends, enemies - how far apart are any of those things, really? can we be friends if you desperately covet what I have? if you take pleasure at the thought of my downfall? is this oft-touted ideal of a 'respectful' rivalry inevitably nothing but a facade for the ugly reality that lies beneath? 2004 is what happens when their relationship is actually tested - because now they are finally fighting for something real and they both know it. this is what happens in assen, when valentino decides he needs to win at any cost, when sete realises they are not playing the game by the same rules. sete had been performing graciousness and valentino calls him on his bluff

the best rivalries transform both parties; neither side should be allowed to emerge unchanged from the battle they share. sete entered valentino's life as a competitor at a time when everything was a little too easy and as a result a little too hard for valentino. at a time when valentino felt dissatisfied, underappreciated, judged harshly from all sides and pinned down by the weight of the world's glares. the blows sete inflicted on valentino were primarily symbolic, hurting valentino's pride and reputation rather than his title bid in 2003, which was never under any realistic threat. when valentino was at his lowest that season, he responded by bringing the joy back, reverting to type, with a new haircut and an ironic gag of a celebration and a daring victory to boot. in 2004, however, valentino changed. he had to - he was on a worse bike than his opponents that he was wrestling towards a title it had no right to be winning that year. he didn't have the kind of margin for error any more that he could afford in his honda years, no more foolishness like at the sachsenring. so he became a little tougher and a little meaner and a lot more aggressive in his racing. he shed some of the insouciance that both him and sete have at times been accused of and got down to the serious business of winning. not joylessly - after all there are few things more enjoyable than crushing the enemy. still, it's fine to be a clown prince in your downtime, not when you're barging title rivals aside in assen

it is here, then, at assen, that sete makes a critical, fatal mistake. because sete is torn in two: he wants to be the gracious rival, but he also thinks what valentino did is wrong and wants to communicate as much to the world. maybe it's because it clashes with sete's understanding of racing, maybe it's simply because sete is bitter that he lost - who's to say. except sete can't bring himself to actually say any of this. he chooses the worst possible strategy against valentino: silent disapproval and annoyance and frustration, played up for the television cameras, but without offering a single word of actual complaint until later, when valentino had already offered his explanations and half-apologies. so what valentino takes away from this is twofold. for one, he comes to believe that sete has a problem with his racing and cannot graciously accept his defeat, entirely failing to match valentino's magnanimity on the (rare) occasions when he loses. but unfortunately for sete, what valentino also learns is that - when it comes down to it - sete will not stand up for himself. valentino knows he can do this again

in sepang sete attempts to take the high ground once more, to allow valentino his transgressions and foibles and temper, to be calm in the face of vale's fury, to be the better man. in australia sete pulls himself together to shake hands with valentino, to be respectful of his rival's accomplishments and graceful in defeat, to be the better man. in jerez sete is beyond angry, furious enough to actually approach valentino in parc fermé and say a few words to him, but he still shakes valentino's hand on the podium and refuses to complain directly about him in the press conference - because he is determined to be the better man. does he think he can shame valentino into being different from what he is? if so, it is an unfortunate miscalculation. you cannot claim a moral victory against somebody who does not give a shit

for valentino, at least half the joy of racing has always been about beating the opposition. a new rival is presented to him out of nowhere - and out of him valentino fashions himself an enemy. sete was one of the first people to offer valentino advice when vale entered the premier class, but this was not the last thing valentino learned from him. because what valentino did to gibernau was different than what he did to biaggi. this was not just trying to get a rise out of a bloke he disliked every time he got half a chance. this was not valentino slowly chipping away at his victim's patience and self-control and sanity. what valentino does to gibernau is far more sudden and far more targeted and gets a far more immediate effect. he emerges from qatar weakened and on the back foot and within eight days flips the situation so that he is once again the one in command. sete, who had very much exerted himself in presenting the relationship in a certain way to the world, who wanted so badly for this to be a certain kind of rivalry, ever so respectful - well, valentino found out just where to hurt him. he did it with his sudden public coldness towards sete, with carefully chosen remarks to the press to make clear that nothing had been forgiven, with the jibes and the taunts at each and every stage of his victory. he married the off-track theatre with on-track strategy as well as pure performance, directly disrupting and disturbing sete whenever necessary - the kind of combination he would later find so useful in fending off first casey then lorenzo. it's no coincidence that his three most famous career overtakes are ones that are also so significant in how they affected valentino's fortunes in the aftermath of his victory. laguna 2008 and catalunya 2009 represent complete shifts in momentum within their respective seasons that his rivals never quite recovered from. jerez 2005 ends the title battle at the very first race. and it's not just sete's season that didn't recover - it's his career

of course, it's easier to mess with someone when you have the measure of them in performance. that's always something to keep in mind when talking about mental resilience: it's easier to bounce back from your rival being an asshole to you if you're just really, really good at what you do. valentino always understood himself that any 'mind games' had to be backed up by on-track performance; he's openly stated that all of his off-track "work" on his opponents only gets results if it's paired with being strong on the bike. and he himself lost his cool in qatar - but it helped that he knew he had what it took to bounce back. this was never a rivalry of equals; there was never any question between the two of them who the better rider was. all that being said: it's a really good rivalry! guys, there's some really great races. sete was a serious challenger and he did pose a serious threat to valentino, which you can tell because otherwise valentino never would have needed to do any of this. he made valentino grow as a rider and... do you make someone 'grow as a person' if you make them better at psychological warfare? yes, I think so. actually

valentino became a more accomplished rider for having experienced the sachsenring debacle, and he became a more accomplished rider as a result of the qatar fiasco. he motivated himself to become better because he wanted to defeat sete so badly, and isn't there something compelling about that? valentino was willing to take risks at phillip island that could have resulted in a title decider, was willing to make himself extremely unpopular with the spanish crowd at jerez (not something he has typically had much experience with) - all because he needed to crush sete, to destroy him so completely he could erase him entirely. at the end of the day, there's a bunch of reasons why this rivalry doesn't get the attention it deserve. one of them, however, is that valentino seems to be pretty happy with this state of affairs, and has spent the better part of two decades deeply disinterested in paying sete his dues. don't let him have his way

#sete gibernau #brr brr #//#sg15 #sete ask yay #right I'm aware this is a topic nobody else actually cares about That Much but I had fun and that's what matters #you'd never believe this but there's quite a lot of this I ended up cutting. like I do have More Thoughts I fear #I don't love this as a piece of writing and it runs into some major tonal issues at some stages but well! post like nobody's reading etc #I feel like every time I try and add a read more it fucks the formatting of the pictures but I'm gonna trust it's. Fine #batsplat responds #curse tag

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rosella35 · 6 months ago

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Borrowed Courage: Chapter 12

*Edit* = Kaleb's dad's physical description has changed because I'm indecisive and for next chapter's lore ;)

Oop. The last time I updated this was October 2022. I've completed an entire Master's degree since then ^^'

Thank you for being patient with me everyone! You have @fireflywritesgt and their incredible writing recently to thank for me rekindling my G/T hyperfixation and picking up my slack with Borrowed Courage. I hope you enjoy this mammoth of a chapter, kicking off the morning after Brooke and Kaleb's video call.

Word count: 7.4k *whistles*

Content warning: contains angst, swearing, and borrower gang tattoos(?)

****

A normal weekend for Kaleb was relatively boring by human standards, but to his borrower side, it was a welcome change of pace. His daily use of Upsize and constant interaction with humans meant that by the end of the week, Kaleb’s mind and body were battered to the point of exhaustion. It was for that reason that he’d come up with a rule for himself that on his days off, it was strictly ‘borrower time’. The concept was exactly as it sounded; Kaleb’s Saturdays and Sundays were spent tinkering away within the walls at his original size, going on the occasional borrowing trip (mostly out of habit than necessity), and if he really felt like it, travelling to the city’s aptly named interspecies zone with one of his upsized family members. As much as he loved attending school and blending in with human society, there was a deeper, almost visceral part of Kaleb that relished the moments he got to spend living unapologetically as a borrower.

Unfortunately though, this weekend was going to be different. As his phone’s alarm went off bright and early on Saturday morning, Kaleb groaned, dragging himself reluctantly out from under his mothers’ handmade quilt of fabric scraps and across the room to silence it. He braced himself on the side of his propped up phone for a minute, hiding a yawn behind the back of a hand and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the other. Bands of light streaked through the cracks in the wall that separated his cobbled-together living space from the human-sized apartment outside, illuminating hundreds of tiny, floating dust particles that no borrower could ever seem to escape from. Kaleb studied them intently for a minute, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to flop back into bed.

There’s no time to sleep in, he reminded himself, because today, he had a mission. A very un-borrower-like mission that involved breaking his own rule.

In his meagre defence, Kaleb hadn’t expected Brooke to actually take him up on the offer to study together in his family’s apartment. In fact, if he were being honest, he’d made that comment in the spur of the moment to sound cool in front of his human neighbour. This brought him to his current predicament: Kaleb had lied about having human guests over. Well, at least guests Brooke’s age. The truth was, the only human who had ever stepped foot in the Finch residence was Evie, and for good reason.

This is gonna be a long day. He thought, staring longingly at his unmade bed one last time.

With a begrudging sigh, Kaleb forced himself into his morning routine. He pulled on a fresh pair of handmade clothes, ran his repurposed toothbrush through his unruly bedhead, and set out into the ‘hallway’ that led to his family’s main living area. His cloth shoes were silent against the dust-covered timber floor, which was really a support beam that ran horizontally from one side of the wall near his human bedroom to the open kitchen and living room area on the other. On a normal Saturday morning, Kaleb would take his time with the trip, admiring the infrastructure of the apartment walls from a perspective he was fairly sure not even the human architects who designed the place would ever experience. Today, that luxury was swept aside as he turned the corner and shimmied down a knotted line stapled to the connecting support beam. From there, he speed-walked the last few feet’s distance towards a door crafted from the sturdy plastic cover and spiral binding of an A6 sized notebook.

“Hey mom, dad? You there?” Kaleb called as he crossed the threshold, leaving his shoes on a mat at the door.

Having constant access to Upsize and by association the human world meant that the Finch household was more accessorised than most borrower dwellings. The floor was carpeted for starters, hence his mom’s strict no-shoes policy. Their kitchen and living room area had been purposely built parallel to the human-sized equivalent, which allowed Kaleb’s dad and uncle Rodney to construct a series of tubes and pipelines that provided water, electricity and gas. The kitchen itself boasted a functioning gas stove and range hood made from a small aluminium funnel that filtered the steam outside.

On the other side of the room was a walk-in pantry that housed a wide assortment of nuts, dried fruits and repurposed glass trinket bottles filled with pickled vegetables. There was a sprig of rosemary and a bay leaf almost as tall as Kaleb himself leant against one side of the doorframe, and a stick of cinnamon on the other. And, on the apartment’s kitchen counter that could be accessed through a door next to the pantry was his uncle Rodney’s most prized possession, a mini fridge meant to hold human cosmetics, that allowed the Finch family to do what most borrowers could never dream of—store their perishables.

Kaleb’s mom, dad, and twin sisters, who were seated at their popsicle stick dining table having breakfast, glanced up in surprise when he entered the room.

“Someone’s up early.” His mom remarked, looking over his shoulder at a leather watch pinned horizontally across the wall to check the time. She gestured for him to sit down in a spare seat before leaving her own chair to fetch him a plate and cutlery. Kaleb did so, fighting the urge to drool as he took in the plate of steaming dime-sized pancakes, syrup, and berry slices his mom had prepared in the centre of the table.

“Heh, yeah. Morning.” He greeted, thanking her as she handed him a simple plastic plate repurposed from a button, a copper wire fork, and a knife he was fairly sure had once belonged in a set of Cluedo. Kaleb wasted no time helping himself to a stack of pancakes, maple syrup, and a slice of strawberry, momentarily distracted from his reason for being up so early in the first place.

As if reading his mind, his mom continued. “It’s not like you to be up this early on a Saturday. How was work last night?”

“Same old.” He said around a mouthful of pancake. “They’re talking about letting me start working the drive through next month, which sounds kinda cool. Apparently the pay’s a bit better than flipping burgers.”

“Ooh, I wonder if you’ll get any pranksters.” Juno piped up eagerly from her seat at the other end of the table. “Y’know, like those people on TikTok!”

Kaleb smirked across at his sister. For their thirteenth birthday and in preparation to begin attending human school next year, Juno and Paige had been gifted their first ever mobile phone, or in other words, their gateway into the world of the internet. Since then, the pair of them had been chattering non-stop about all of the amusing things human influencers did to entertain their loyal fans on social media. “If I do, you’ll be the first one to hear about it.” He promised her, before turning back to his mom.

“Actually, I was hoping to ask for you and dad’s opinion on something.” Kaleb started, setting his knife and fork down as he mulled over his next words.

His parents both looked at each other, and then across at him with concern. “Sure, Kaleb. What’s wrong?” Asked his dad, leaning across the table to grab a wedge of blueberry.

“Well… nothing’s wrong, exactly. I just…” He squeezed his eyes shut, finding himself clamming up all over again. Why was it suddenly so hard to speak?

“Is this about apologising to that girl in your class?” His mom interrupted, lacing her fingers together. “Because if it is—"

“No, no, it’s not that.” He replied before she could continue with what was sure to be another lecture. “Well, I mean, it is, kind of…” Voice trailing off for the second time, Kaleb gritted his teeth in frustration and decided to just get it over with.

“How do you feel about me bringing someone from my class over to work on a project next week after school?” He blurted out.

Instantly, the mood around the dining table shifted. “Someone from your class… Wait, you mean a human?” His mom realised, an incredulous look plastering her face. “You want to have a human over? In our apartment?”

“Who?” His dad enquired, scratching his stubbled chin thoughtfully. “Is it someone you’ve told us about before?”

“Well, about that…” Kaleb began to fidget idly with his fork, preparing himself for the reaction his next words would almost certainly garner. “It’s actually Brooke Tucker. Y’know, from downstairs?”

“Brooke Tucker…” His mom was the first one to connect the dots. “Hold on, you mean the girl your teacher called me about… the exterminator’s daughter?” She looked positively aghast.

Meanwhile, from the other end of the table, his dad chuckled, amusement glinting in his hazel eyes. It was the perfect example of how he and Kaleb’s mom couldn’t be any more different when it came to handling situations involving humans. “I take it your apology was well received, then?”

His mom’s icy gaze shifted from Kaleb to her husband. “Hugo, this isn’t a joke.” She scolded, pointing her own wire fork across at him accusingly. “Don’t you see how risky that is, letting a human like that into our home? What if she notices something amiss, or worse, someone gets seen?”

“Margalo, dear, let’s think about this for a minute.” Kaleb’s dad cut her off from her fretting, well practiced in calming her anxious antics. “It’s not like Kaleb’s going to be giving her a private tour of the walls. I’m sure the two of them will just study together in the main room like I’d imagine any other human students would. Am I getting that right, Kaleb?”

“Pretty much.” Kaleb confirmed, endlessly grateful for his dad’s support.

His mom glanced helplessly from her husband, to Kaleb, and then back again. “I know, but that doesn’t eliminate the risk involved here.” She protested. “With that… man… for a father, that girl is probably more observant than your average human, and besides all that, I heard from Kaleb’s teacher that she brags about torturing borrowers in class. Why on earth would you want to bring someone like her into our home?”

“Yeah, about that.” Kaleb said, recalling his conversation with Brooke from the other night. “It’s a long story, but turns out, she actually made all of that stuff up to try and get me to leave her alone. I… I think I can trust her.”

Margalo Finch narrowed her eyes. “You think, or you know?”

Meanwhile, Kaleb’s dad was appraising him with that observant look of his that always seemed to peer deep into one’s soul. It was the same look he got when he was thinking of a new protagonist or plot-line for one of his novels. “She has no reason to suspect us, dear.” He finally said, addressing his dishevelled wife with the calmest voice he could muster. “Even if Kaleb did provoke this Brooke Tucker girl about her father’s…” he coughed “…line of work, that doesn’t mean she’s automatically going to assume there are borrowers living here. Besides, plenty of young humans are getting into borrower rights activism these days, and if she’s had a change of heart so quickly, then isn’t that a good thing? One less thing to worry about with Kaleb going to school, hmm?”

As he listened to his dad defending him, Kaleb felt a pang of guilt that both of his parents were blissfully unaware of how much Brooke already knew about their family secret. He’d thought about telling them what had happened; how he’d made the fatal error of running his mouth on the apartment roof that night and paid the ultimate price for it; how he’d escaped with Evie’s help and against his better judgement, confronted Brooke again the following night; how he was finally starting to see eye to eye with her, as rocky as that process was turning out to be. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, at least not yet. A part of him was afraid that if he did, he would never be allowed to attend human school or use Upsize again. That was a gamble Kaleb just wasn’t willing to make.

“I… I understand that, but why?” He was jolted from his thoughts by his mom, who stared across at him with an expression that was a mixture of confusion and defeat. “I’m proud of you for making things right with her, but I thought you couldn’t stand the girl.”

Kaleb let out an exasperated sigh. That question again. It was one he was still grappling with himself. Why was he making this much of an effort with Brooke? He decided to shelve that debate for the time being, instead casting his mind back to the conversation he’d had with his mom earlier that week. “It’s like you said, isn’t it?” He recalled. “That the humans own the world, and we just live in it. When I thought about it that way, I wanted to make more of an effort to see things from Brooke’s perspective, y’know, just like any other human would. I guess I figured if I do that,” Kaleb almost laughed at the absurdity of his next words, “then maybe we could even be friends someday.”

Kaleb wasn’t sure if it was the delivery of his conviction, or the fact that he’d used her own words against her, but he could see the fight leaving his mom’s pale blue eyes. She sighed, relenting. “Well… I suppose it’d be alright to have her over, so long as it’s just the one time.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. Well, that’s the first hurdle crossed. “Thanks, mom.”

“You’re actually gonna bring home a human then, Kaleb?” Juno exclaimed. “That is so-o-o dope!”

“Dope?” Their dad asked, bemused.

“Yeah!” The borrower teen declared proudly. “We’ve been practicing our slang for human school!”

Kaleb groaned, pinching his brow. “No one uses that word anymore, Juno.”

“But Damon said—”

“If you’re actually listening to Damon, then that’s your first mistake.”

“That’s what I said!” Paige piped up smugly from beside her twin, and Kaleb reached across the table to give her a first bump.

“Okay fine, I won’t say it again.” Juno relented, before quickly turning back to her older brother with an impish grin. “But still, Kaleb, are you sure you wanna have a girl over? Our apartment looks so povo.”

“Hmm… I’ve definitely heard that word get tossed around, but only by this one Australian kid in class.” Kaleb confirmed as he processed the rest of her remark. “You do have a point, though.” He straightened up in his seat. “That’s kind of the other reason I got up so early this morning.”

“Povo?” His mom repeated in confusion, to which Hugo Finch sighed.

“I believe our children are comparing the main apartment to something akin to squalor.”

“Well, I suppose we do have quite a bit of… extra furniture.” She surmised with a chuckle, starting to lose some of the tension she’d built up from before.

‘Extra furniture’ was a stretch. The truth of the matter was that by nature, everyone in the Finch family was a kleptomaniac. Kaleb had seen a few episodes of Hoarders on YouTube, so he knew their human-sized living space wasn’t overly messy per se, but the fact remained that the Finch apartment currently functioned as more of a storage space for its residents’ various trinkets and bits-and-bobs than a place you’d expect humans to be living in. After all, it wasn’t like most of the giant furniture they could have purchased to fill the rooms would ever be used in the way it was intended. In fact, the only reason the apartment contained things like an old table and chair in the living area and Kaleb’s springy mattress were for the human-sized borrowers to have somewhere to sit while they waited for their Upsize to wear off in the afternoons.

With that in mind, Kaleb revealed his next big proposal. “How about this,” he declared. “I have some money saved up. If you let me have Brooke over to study, I’ll turn the apartment into the most decked-out human condo you can imagine.”

Margalo eyed her youngest son skeptically. “That’s the first I’ve heard about these savings.” She pointed out. “Doesn’t most of your money go towards your Upsize?”

Kaleb cringed at the reminder of his current financial situation. “Well, yeah, but I have some left over.” He protested.

“Hmm,” was all his mom replied with as she mulled over the idea in her head.

His dad spoke up next. “It would be nice to add a little bit of charm to the place. Who knows, maybe if it were more inviting, I would spend more of my time writing out there instead of in my office.” After earning a raised eyebrow from his wife, he added, “It’s just a thought. I’m sure Evie would appreciate it, at the very least.”

Juno, meanwhile, looked positively ecstatic. “Yes! A home make-over! I’ve always wanted to do that, since I saw this interior design page online!” She exclaimed giddily, jumping out of her seat with her hands still planted on the table.

“Yeah, c’mon, mom.” Paige agreed. “You’ve gotta let Kaleb do it, our apartment will look so awesome at the end! We can even take those cool before-and-after shots like they do on Youtube.”

With bated breath, the four of them waited in suspense for Margalo Finch’s final verdict on the matter. At last, Kaleb’s mom spoke up, though not without first taking a long, thoughtful sip of her peppermint tea. “Just to be clear, whatever this ‘home make-over’ is going to involve, it’ll have to come out of your bank account.” She said sternly. “Your father and I are able to pay for your schooling, but that doesn’t mean we have the money to afford this, too. Remember, your Upsize delivery is tomorrow. It’s not going to be our fault if you have to miss a week of school because you ran out of money to pay for it.”

Kaleb nodded his understanding. Every second Sunday, he made the journey to the next suburb over, where for lack of a better term, he made the exchange of two-hundred-and-fifty dollars’ cash for his next package of the highly secretive size-changing pills. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it covered.” He assured her, which was only partially true. Satisfied with the way things had gone with his parents, Kaleb thanked them for breakfast and got up from his seat. “Well, I’d better get to it then. I’ve only got this weekend to pull this off.”

Before he could make his exit, Juno and Paige both leapt out of their own seats, flanking their older brother on either side. Juno looped her arm around Kaleb’s, gazing up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Hey bro, if you let us take some of your Upsize, we can help out with the decorating?”

Kaleb hesitated, weighing up the idea in his head. Their offer wasn’t exactly surprising, all things considered. Ever since their dad had permitted them a trial run of Upsize earlier in the year, the Finch twins had been itching to venture out into the human world again. Kaleb couldn’t blame them. For him, experiencing life from a human’s perspective for the first time was like tasting a forbidden fruit. Once he’d seen everything the bustling city beyond the walls had to offer, the apartment building, despite being roughly the size of a city itself to a borrower, had never felt smaller.

“Well, I guess this would go a lot quicker if I had some extra help…” Kaleb started to reply, but paused, reminded of the abysmally empty plastic jar in his room where he kept his medication. “But I’m down to my last two pills, and I’ll need at least one and a half for myself…”

As though reading his mind, his dad chimed in. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll go collect your delivery tomorrow for you if your sisters want to help out.” He gave the twins a pointed look. “It’ll do them good to take a break from technology for the day.” In a lower voice, he added. “That’s all they seem to talk about anymore.”

Kaleb nodded gratefully, before turning his attention back to Juno and Paige and their identical gleeful expressions. “Okay, but that still means I only have enough Upsize left for one extra person, and only for half a day. You’ll have to do rock paper scissors on it.”

The borrower family watched in amusement as its two youngest members played best of three. A moment later, and Juno let out a triumphant cry. “I win!”

Paige folded her arms and stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “Fine. But you better let me tag along, too, okay?”

“Okay!” Juno looked relieved that her twin wasn’t mad. “I’ll even wear the overalls Damon bought me with the big pocket on the front, so you can see everything!”

Kaleb had taken to leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded, smiling at their conversation. “Well this is new.” He joked. “I was starting to think I’d need to butt in, but it sounds like you’ve already sorted things out.”

“Ohshut up, Kaleb. We’re not twelve anymore.” Paige snapped indignantly. “I can take the loss this time.”

He raised an eyebrow. No, but you’re barely a year older than that.

“Anyway, Mr. big shot.” Juno continued, hands on her hips. “Forget the Upsize. Do you really have enough money to buy all that human furniture?”

“Well, no.” He admitted, before shooting them a coy smirk, the irony in what he was about to say not lost on any of them. “It looks like we’ll just have to borrow some things along the way…”

****

While Kaleb and his sisters worked tirelessly from morning till night on their DIY apartment makeover, Brooke’s weekend was shaping up to be as dull as ever. She spent her Saturday locked away in her room, humming along to the latest Five Seconds of Summer album through her AirPods as she scrolled away aimlessly at social media. She wasn’t really paying attention to her phone, though. As she lay there with only her thoughts to entertain her, Brooke couldn’t help but mull over the events of the last week, and the many encounters she’d had with her classmate-turned borrower whose family happened to live on the third floor.

It still felt surreal to look back on it all. So much had changed in such a short time; about the way Brooke viewed society, about the way she viewed borrowers, about the way she viewed Kaleb Finch. It was a lot to process, and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it. A part of her still wished she could go back in time and stop herself from going up to the rooftop that night, if nothing else but to prevent the torrent or emotions—the confusion, the guilt, and everything in between—that followed.

Even so, Brooke would be lying to herself at this point if she said she wasn’t at least a little curious about the secret life of her upstairs neighbour.

Bored as she was, the human girl couldn’t help but wonder what Kaleb was doing at that time. Would he be out and about exploring town? Considering his poorly concealed fascination with anything human-made, she could definitely picture that being the case. Or maybe he was hanging out in his own bedroom in the walls; a sight Brooke still hadn’t managed to rid from her mind after getting a glimpse of it during their video call last night.

Or maybe… she glanced lazily up at the ceiling, studying the grate of the air vent in the corner, half expecting to see a pair of much smaller eyes staring back at her from the other side. Maybe he was passing his time stalking her again, waiting for the perfect opportunity to sneak out from within the walls. She found herself scanning the room almost involuntarily, studying every nook and cranny that a borrower could possibly conceal themselves in. She felt her phone slip out of her hand as her heart filled with strange sense of… was it yearning? Curiosity? The thought alone made the human girl shudder in discomfort.

Did she… want to see him again? Brooke was struggling to deny it at this point, especially after last night. Weird as their conversation had been, it had unlocked a part of her that she thought had been buried long ago. Maybe she was lonely after all; lonely enough that even the company of her former bully was preferable to returning to the way things were. After all, the alternative couldn’t be true, could it? She couldn’t have really been enjoying spending time with Kaleb… right?

Stop thinking about him! Brooke’s thoughts screamed, bringing her internal monologue to a screeching halt. You’re not that desperate, Brooke. Get it together! The human girl would have slapped herself again had she not been paranoid about the footage somehow making its way onto the landlady’s security camera feed. With renewed determination, Brooke snatched up her phone and flopped over onto her stomach in bed, opening up her Netflix account. If binge watching the latest season of Stranger Things couldn’t distract her from thinking about her borrower neighbour, she didn’t know what would.

****

It was at exactly three thirty-five on Sunday afternoon when Brooke realised that ignoring Kaleb’s existence would be easier said than done. After a night spent glued to her phone screen like the teenager that she was, Brooke had committed to watching the last few episodes of the season on her laptop while she simultaneously updated her Spotify playlist with 80’s songs from the show’s latest soundtrack. Just as the credits rolled after the final cliffhanger, Brooke’s reeling thoughts were interrupted by an email notification in the corner of her screen. Still in the midst of processing the show’s ending scene, she clicked on it, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the subject line: Integration Day.It was sent by Mr. Bell, her history and home room teacher, and Brooke immediately felt all of her concerns about Stranger Things drift away as she read the message.

Dear Students,

I hope you have all had a relaxing weekend.

I am emailing in regards to an initiative the school is putting forward in an effort to promote borrower inclusion into the human education system. Beginning this week, the first Friday of every month will be Integration Day, during which we will be inviting those students living with borrower tenants aged 13 to 20 to have them participate in classes.

If you would like to be involved in this initiative, I have attached a consent form below. In order to be considered, the form must be completed and signed by both your parents or guardians, as well as the parents or guardians of the borrowers wishing to attend school as part of the program.

More information regarding the initiative will be announced in home class tomorrow morning.

I look forward to seeing you all then.

Yours sincerely,

Mr Bell

Brooke closed her laptop abruptly, frowning as she took a minute to process the information. This was a surprise. Of all the things she expected her teacher to agree to host, a borrower education scheme certainly wasn’t one of them. It was almost funny, she thought. Had Brooke received that email even a week earlier, she probably would have had a very different reaction to the one she was experiencing now. She imagined herself fuming in front of the laptop screen, cursing at the borrower race that seemed to find every possible way to make her life miserable. Hell, that part of her was still there, in some way. Mostly though, Brooke felt… indifferent about it all. She wasn’t as angry as she probably should’ve been—would’ve been. Instead… Yep, there it was again.

Brooke couldn’t help but wonder how Kaleb felt about the Integration Day announcement.

Running her fingers down her face in exasperation, the human girl decided it was as good a time as any to get some fresh air, if anything to put some distance between herself and… whatever thoughts her head kept conjuring. So, she got up out of bed, tugged on her pair of well-worn doc martens without bothering to properly do up the laces, and set off into the neighbourhood, bidding her parents a brief goodbye on her way out.

The street was quiet, save for a group of teenagers riding skateboards and laughing amongst themselves out the front of the local diner. Brooke tore her eyes away from the familiar green plaque emblazoned with the letter ‘B’ hanging in its window. Surprising (and frankly, unsanitary) as it was that borrowers were allowed in a burger joint of all places, she didn’t want to think about that right now. Trusty earbuds in, Brooke trudged along the sidewalk, letting the world fall away for a moment as she listened to the comforting riff of a punk rock song.

Eventually, hunger won against out against her mindless wandering, and she stopped by the bakery to grab a ham and salad sandwich on her way back to the apartment. Before long, Brooke found herself sitting against the railing on the rooftop to watch the sunset, absentmindedly nibbling at her late lunch as she took in the pink and orange hues of the sky.

“Damn, am I gonna have to find a new place to do my evening brooding?” A familiar voice piped up, as if on cue, and the human girl barely refrained from cringing at the sound.

So much for avoiding him. The nagging voice in the back of her mind taunted. It’s almost like you were hoping he’d be here—

Brooke swallowed down those thoughts, as well as her mouthful of sandwich, hard. Trying to compose herself, she tilted her head in the direction of the voice, eyes widening momentarily in surprise to find Kaleb standing at the top of the staircase a few feet away at his borrower size. He was learning casually against the cement wall with his arms folded, a halfway smile on his face that the human girl could barely make out from this distance. She noticed with interest that he was decked out in what she was coming to label his ‘borrowing outfit’ again; tiny black fingerless gloves, a cropped brown jacket and beige undershirt, khaki pants and what looked to be a brand new set of (barf) rat leather boots. A coil of string attached to a fishhook hung from a loop in his belt, and that ratty looking satchel of his was strung across his body, looking somewhat bulkier than usual.

Realising she was staring, Brooke coughed. “Yeah, sorry, there really isn’t enough space up here for two.” She quipped, gesturing to his smaller form with her sandwich. “Even when you’re… like this.” That raised another question. “Why are you small, anyway?” Brooke’s trademark nonchalant attitude returned in full force like the trusty emotional shield it was. “Surely there’s something productive you could’ve been doing today.”

She could have sworn he gave a tiny eye roll at her comment. “Speak for yourself.” Kaleb scoffed, stepping out towards her so he didn’t have to speak so loudly. “And I don’t have to be human-sized to be productive, geeze.” There was a pause. “To answer your question, though, I’m waiting for a package. The company that… organises my Upsize comes every Sunday afternoon with a delivery. Since I ran out early though, dad’s gone to get it for me.”

“That doesn’t sound sketchy at all.” Brooke smirked.

A flutter of wings caught her attention, and she watched as a pigeon landed a few metres away, head tilting curiously at her food. Out of the corner of her eye, Brooke didn’t fail to notice Kaleb already taking a few cautious steps backwards, towards the top of the staircase. With a cheeky grin, she tore a piece of bread from her sandwich and tossed it directly in front of the borrower’s escape route.

Less than a second passed before chaos ensued. Pigeons descended from the sky to fight over the crumbs, and Kaleb let out a startled yell, falling unceremoniously onto his backside with his arms held protectively over his head.

“W-What the hell, Brooke?” He cried, scrambling to a stand and slowly edging towards the shadow of her torso. He looked up at her indignantly with his tiny arms folded. At his size, the sight was almost cute, though she would sooner die than admit that to him out loud. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Relax, they’re just pigeons!” Brooke’s grin widened. “C’mon, don’t you guys train them as pets and shit?”

“You try training a wild animal twice your size, see how well that works out for you.” He grumbled back, thoroughly unamused.

Brooke smirked, stuffing the last of her sandwich into her mouth. As the pigeons, realising there was no longer food on offer, finally dispersed, Kaleb sighed irritably and took a seat about half a meter away from her, one knee drawn up to his chest. Chewing thoughtfully, she noted the uncharacteristic slump in his tiny shoulders. The human girl had an inkling as to why that might be.

Following her hunch, she spoke up. “I take it you got the email then? About—”

“Yeah, I got the email.” He interrupted, kicking a minuscule speck of rubble with his shoe. With how close he was sitting to the railing, it sailed right over the edge of the roof, and Brooke was once again left to wonder how Kaleb was able to sit so calmly before a relative five-hundred foot drop without losing his nerve. A Borrower’s tolerance to heights was no joke.

“So?” She pressed, adopting a cheshire cat’s grin. Reaching out, she poked him in the side with a finger. “Want me to take you with me to class on Friday? I think everyone would get a kick out of it, especially Amy Snyder.”

Kaleb swayed where he sat, not even looking up at her. His gaze remained focused on the city view ahead of them, as the sun dipped further into the horizon. “You’re not funny, y’know.”

“Really? I thought it was plenty funny.”

“Can’t you take a hint?” he snapped, irritation plain on his tiny face as he finally turned to glare up at her. “I’m not in the mood for your stupid human jokes right now.”

She leaned back on her elbows on the uneven concrete floor, looking down at him tauntingly. “Clearly. I’m confused, though. Isn’t integration what you lot were pushing for in the first place? I would’ve thought you’d be happier than this.”

Kaleb grit his teeth. “You call bring-your-borrower-to-class Friday ‘integration’? This whole thing is just a publicity stunt, to boost Westmount’s reputation as a ‘diverse learning environment’.” The borrower shuddered. “Tch. I can already see the headline.”

“Well, at least they’re making an effort, right?” Brooke pointed out. “That’s more than you can say about other high schools.”

“The whole point of borrowers attending human school should be to learn. This is more like show-and-tell than anything.” Kaleb shook his head stubbornly, hands clenching around the strap of his bag. “Nope.” He decided. “I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Brooke stared at him for a moment, his five-inch-tall form silhouetted by the glare of the setting sun. A question was nagging at her mind again, one that had been stewing there since her heated debate with him on the same rooftop just the other night. She tilted her head to the side. “Kaleb, why do you hate humans so much?”

He looked back at her, caught off guard for a moment as the question sank in. “I—”

“Kaleb? You up here?” A distinctly male voice called out suddenly, and the echo of human footsteps could be heard traipsing up the stairs. As if he’d stepped on a live wire, Kaleb was on his feet in an instant, his face losing several shades of colour.

“Shit, that’s my dad.” He announced in a panic, flashing her a jaunty salute. “Gotta go!”

“Your—what?” That was all the warning Brooke got before the borrower took off at full speed towards what was no doubt a secret pathway behind the stairwell. The human girl sat, blinking in shock at how quickly Kaleb had made his escape, just as the sound of a man clearing his throat behind her reached her ears.

Brooke wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she took in the sight of who she could only assume was Kaleb’s upsized father as he stood at the entrance to the rooftop. “Um, good evening.” He began, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he greeted her. “Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone would be up here at this hour.” He warbled. Brooke hadn’t failed to notice the way his hazel eyes darted across the roof as he spoke, no doubt checking for any sign of his currently much smaller son. Frowning faintly, he returned his gaze towards her. “I’m looking for a borro— I mean, a boy around your age. He always comes up here to watch the sunset, you see.”

Brooke almost snorted at his ramblings. That was definitely a trait Kaleb had inherited. Everything else about him, though, was not at all how she’d imagined the borrower man to look like. For starters, he was lean and wiry, even more so than Kaleb, with shoulder-length brown hair tied in a messy bun at the back, showing only the slightest hints of greying. His skin was a deep olive colour, almost sun-kissed, as though the man had spent more of his life outdoors than in. His body was littered with faded scars, one particularly gruesome one on his leg that looked almost like an animal bite, and another jagged line across his forehead, cutting through one of his eyebrows. He even had his right ear pierced with two simple black studs, making him look less like an author and more like a seasoned warrior from a video game.

What surprised Brooke most about the man though was the sleeve of tattoos running up almost the entire length of his left arm. At a glance, she could make out the realistic designs of what looked to be a field mouse with its teeth bared against an opposing finch, surrounded by strange symbols completely foreign to her human eyes but looking suspiciously like the borrower equivalent of gang signs. That and the fact that the mysterious man in question was unapologetically wearing a t-shirt that said ‘World’s Greatest Farter (Father)’, boxer shorts, and fluffy slippers left Brooke’s mind completely blown.

Realising he was waiting for a reply, the human girl forced herself to speak. “I haven’t seen anyone, sorry.” She spluttered. You owe me, Kaleb.

“Oh, well, that’s alright. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually.” Kaleb’s father responded, hesitating as he stared her down with almost the same intensity as she had just done with him. “Actually, I don’t believe I’ve seen your face around here before.”

“Probably not.” She replied glibly. Brooke for one had certainly never seen the man before, otherwise she might have done a better job hiding her bewilderment. As it was, she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that borrowers could have tattoos of all things. Shutting down that particular train of thought, the human girl focused back on the conversation at hand. “My family and I just moved in the other day.” She continued, standing up and nodding in his direction. “I’m Brooke.”

Instantly, recognition flashed in the man’s hazel eyes, and he beamed across at her, closing the gap between them and holding out his hand. “Oh! You must be Brooke Tucker. Our new downstairs neighbour. You know of my son, then—Kaleb.” He cleared his throat a second time as he introduced himself. “My name is Hugo. Hugo Finch. My family and I live in apartment thirty-five.”

“Nice to meet you.” She answered, awkwardly shaking his hand and trying not to think about how at his normal size, she would be able to fit her own hand around his entire body. “And yeah. He’s in my class.”

“Yes, he’s told us a lot about you.” Hugo said with a nod, making the human girl’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Really?” Brooke gave the upsized borrower her most innocent smile. “All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, of course.” He said without missing a beat. “He tells me the two of you are working on a project together for modern history at the moment. It’s nice to see him making some new friends at school.”

Brooke winced at that. “I wouldn’t exactly call us friends.” She said, dancing around that particular topic. “But yeah, we’re getting there with the presentation. It helps that we live in the same building, too. Definitely makes it easier to get our research done.” She forced out a chuckle.

“I’ll bet it does.” Hugo agreed pleasantly, seemingly oblivious to her awkwardness. “I hear you’ll be visiting our apartment after school this week for a study session, too. Sounds like the two of you will be finished before you know it at this rate.”

Brooke smirked at the indirect mention that Kaleb had apparently asked his parents if he could have her over to study. Cute. “Yeah, seems like it. It’ll be good to get it done early, I guess.”

“You’ll love what he’s done with the place, too.” Hugo continued, his expression full of pride as he spoke about his son. “It was a mess before, but he and his sisters really stepped up this weekend to clean it up.” He gestured to his blatantly stay-at-home attire. “I even tested out the space for my work today, as you can probably tell. Before, I was renting out another… office because of the clutter, but I can definitely see the appeal of working from home now…” He trailed off with a chuckle, paying no mind to the human girl in front of him as she struggled to process this new information.

“I didn’t realise Kaleb was… redecorating.” Brooke said slowly, not sure whether to be amused or unsettled. She felt herself fidgeting uncomfortably with the inner seams of her hoodie as she recalled her conversation with the borrower in question last night, and how she’d jokingly suggested taking him up on his offer to have her over to his place. Surely Kaleb hadn’t spent the entire weekend cleaning out his family’s apartment just for them to study in… right? There was no way that could be true. She felt her cheeks redden at the mere thought.

Brooke was jolted back to the present when Hugo gave a breezy laugh, looking almost as uncomfortable as she did. The man wrung his hands, his expression reminding her vaguely of a deer caught in the headlights. If Brooke didn’t know any better, he’d just told her something he wasn’t supposed to. “R-Right, well, I’m sure he’ll tell you all about that at school tomorrow.” He warbled, glancing down at his wristwatch. “Speaking of Kaleb… if you’ll excuse me, I really should be getting back to tracking him down. It was nice talking to you, Brooke. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

Before Brooke could string together a reply, he’d darted back down the stairs almost as quickly as Kaleb had fled the rooftop not even ten minutes earlier. All the human girl could do was stare, hand raised in a wave that had come far too late.

“Yeah. Nice meeting you too…” She muttered to the empty rooftop, as the breeze whistled through her hair and night finally settled in.

Brooke was beginning to wonder if it was a borrower custom to run off mid-conversation. With how much she’d already learned about humankind’s smaller counterparts and their strange and secret culture in the past week, she didn’t think anything would surprise her at this point. Yet she still wanted to know more, a desire that both scared and excited her. She wanted to know more about Kaleb’s world, just like he wanted someone to share it with. Her heart just wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

For now, the human girl settled back into the blissful ignorance she was used to. She sat down heavily with her back up against the railing, and turned her music back on.

“My life is so weird.” Brooke sighed up at the stars.

#g/t community #g/t writing #borrowed courage #kaleb and brooke #sizechange #sizeshifter #the borrowers #tinypeople #gianttiny #borrowerau #angst #shrinking #sfw

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