#suicide clutch

[blink182-electricboogaloo]

Suicide Clutch

Rating: Explicit, M/M

Ch 3/?

Suicide Clutch; The terms suicide clutch, and suicide shifter or jockey shifter, refer to some motorcycles' foot-operated clutch and hand shifter to change gears.

After one fateful, late-night meeting with a professional motorcyclist racer named Aventurine, Dr. Veritas Ratio now has to put his PHD in engineering to good use... As a mechanic for a borderline suicidal racer.

Surely there is no better way to spend someone's summer.

Ao3

“And that concludes week two of the Penacony Grant Tournament! As expected, the Galaxy Rangers will be moving on to next week’s race. Alongside them are independent riders Chase Archroy, Grant Alcazar, Marie Illi–”

Ratio only half-listens to the names being listed off one after the other. Of course, even if he was truly listening, he could barely hear the speaker over the loud buzzing of the welding tool in his hands anyway, so perhaps it would be for naught regardless. 

Besides, his current work is far more important than who is participating in next week’s race– even if those are the people Aventurine will be facing off against– considering the health of the professional motorcycle and its rider is at stake at the moment. And Ratio’s mental health, of course. 

Especially considering he has been working on this vehicle for nearly sixteen hours just to move that rotator clutch and he is finally reaching the last step to completing such a monumental task. Granted, he had expected this from the start. One does not simply ‘move’ such a key component, after all. Things around it must be shifted, the connectors that allow one to actually switch gears must be adjusted, not to mention actually moving the thing to its new spot.

But, it’s nearly done.

In fact, as the sparks arch and dance in front of his mask, the doctor remains steadfast in his task, ever mindful of where the welding tool touches.

He had been lucky to find a welding machine in this garage considering its abnormalities in what it keeps stocked. But perhaps even luckier was the impulse decision he had made in college to take a welding class for no other reason than to satisfy his curiosity. He never mastered the craft, and he’d even grown rusty in his years of neglect, but even so. As long as the part remained attached and unnoticable to the untrained eye then it would be fine.

Suddenly, a loud bang startles him from his thoughts. His hands jolt, the welding torch leaving an ugly line on the metal as his attention snaps to the source of that noise. His eyes– shielded by the dark screen of the welding helmet– only catch onto the halo of light above him and the vague form of a person standing atop the stairs. There’s only one person who’d have the gall to interrupt Ratio like this.

“Ohhhh doctor~” The blond’s singsong voice confirms.

“Damned racer.” He mutters to himself as he flicks off the switch of the welding machine. The podcast is the next to go, though he opts to simply turn the audio down entirely, and only then does he return his full attention to Aventurine. “What is my first rule?” He demands as he lifts his visor. His eyes are immediately assaulted by the sharp white lights of the garage around him– already he misses the comforting dark of the welding helmet– but he fixes the racer in question with a dirty look.

Aventurine doesn’t answer his prompt, only leaning forward on the baluster with a grin. “Oh? Is the good doctor not happy to see me?”

The glare he receives should be answer enough.

At the very least, as Ratio inspects the blond’s attire, he’d learned his lesson from the last time he’d been down here. Having forgone that jacket of his entirely in favor of a simple graphic tee and some jeans. His hair is a mess, more than usual even. As if he’d simply rolled out bed, changed, then immediately decided to make it his personal mission to distract Ratio from his job.

The lack of professionalism is as obnoxious as it is obvious.

“I would be happier if you respected the rules in my contract.” The doctor replies shortly.

“Mhm, your contract.”

Please, dear gods, let Aventurine have read that contract.

He didn’t, did he?

And after all of the time Ratio had spent negotiating with Topaz over adding three specific rules to spare himself from Aventurine’s unnecessary presence.

Once again, the Ratio wishes he had chalk on hand to reprimand such a decision. No wonder the idiot cannot keep a mechanic, if he pays no mind to the contracts put in place and, of course, interrupts them while they work .

Accepting that he won’t be getting anything else done while Aventurine is here, Ratio sighs and pulls off the welding mask entirely. His hair is a sweaty mess as he sets the helmet onto the floor, threatening to fall in his face more than usual until he swipes the purple locks back. Even with the garage door closed, air conditioning on full blast, and two additional fans, the humidity is relentless.

“To answer my own question, since you have clearly proven yourself incapable of doing so: The first rule is to not interrupt me while I am working. Which you would have known had you taken the time to read my contract .”

He doesn't move from his position in front of the motorcycle, a reminder to them both of what he should be working on at the moment. He is a mechanic , not an entertainer for pretty blonds that cannot entertain themselves.

The ‘pretty blond’ in question only hums while fiddling with something on his phone, that little grin on his lips even as his entire focus is engrossed on the device. “Hmmm, and how was I supposed to know you were working?”

The doctor stifles a huff, giving a longing look at the array of parts on the shelf against the back wall. Maybe he can’t weld, but perhaps he can check sprockets and the chain while Aventurine makes his presence known. But no, that presence is far too distracting. He’d much sooner make a mistake than do anything productive. “If I am down here, then that means I am working.”

“And what if you’re eating?”

“Can I help you with something?” Ratio snaps finally, returning his glare back to the racer atop the stairs. Still doing something on that phone of his and seeming to only be half paying attention, yet somehow he still looks just as amused. “Do you need something from me? Why are you down here?”

This earns the start of a laugh from Aventurine. “Is it not enough to see my amazing mechanic at work?” Ratio doesn’t even dignify this with an answer, his scowl hopefully doing the talking for him. Assuming the racer could take a damn hint. “Fine, fine. I was ordering food and figured you’d want something. Consider it a ‘peace offering’ for entering your sanctum or whatever.” 

Naturally, the doctor is tempted to refuse the offer on principle. “You understand that this is for your benefit, yes?” He questions instead.

“Never said it wasn’t.” Aventurine purrs. “Catch!”

What?

One word. One word is all the warning Ratio gets before Aventurine’s phone is airborne and sailing straight towards him, the illuminated screen flipping and turning in the air while Ratio can only watch in mounting horror that it will be on him whether or not that screen hits the ground. 

The utter fool–

The doctor dives for it, fumbling as the delicate device bounces in his palm. He wobbles, nearly falling from his place on his knees as he finally manages to swipe it against his chest and catch himself with his free arm.

“You careless idiot !” He calls back up to the stupid racer once he’d caught his breath from the momentary adrenaline rush. “Have you no consideration for your belongings? What if I had dropped it?”

“But you didn’t.” Aventurine responds easily, only descending the stairs after sending his phone on a treacherous journey across approximately twelve feet of open air. He could have waited and handed the phone to Ratio like a normal fucking person. But looking back on every interaction the doctor has had with Aventurine thus far, when has he ever been normal?

“And I didn’t toss it at you for you to yell at me, y’know~ Look what’s on the screen?”

As much as Ratio would like to simply hand the phone back and say no, he does make the unfortunate decision to glance down at the app that’s already open. An ordering app, no doubt.

Being a professor as he is, there have been countless students who have ordered food near him, some even offering to get him something as well as if that would sway his strict grading regime. He always refused, of course, but the exposure was enough to know that this is not one of the mainstream apps. 

The app itself is a dark gray background with white text, a dark mode perhaps, but the accents are much more of a golden yellow color. Menu options are much wider as well, not signed with specific restaurants but seeming to be all places in the area, including a small cafe half an hour away that would have no reason to sign with a major ordering company. The name at the top of the app is ‘Stellar Delivery’.

Odd. 

Frankly, the doctor has never understood the idea of ‘ordering in’, not when a place is only half an hour away at most, and much cheaper when ordering in person. An inconvenience, sure, but a minor one. Then there is, of course, the issues with eating out in general. Much harder to dictate what is ‘healthy’ when trusting others to prepare the food.

Ratio glances up at Aventurine with a quirked brow, but before he can say anything the racer takes interest in his phone sitting innocently atop the speaker.  “So what are you listening to, doc?” 

Ratio steals the phone off its stand before Aventurine can even touch it, only biting out another chide as he stuffs the device into his pocket. “Second rule, Racer. Do not touch anything in this garage without my express permission.”

The blond’s face morphs into a knowing smirk. 

Ratio sighs and admits defeat before Aventurine can tear apart that rule next. 

“It is a podcast called Redlight Roadways.” He answers with a huff. To avoid the racer’s curious eyes, he returns his gaze to the screen and begins actually browsing the options if only to have some reprieve. “They are currently focusing on the Penacony Grant Tournament, hence why I have shown interest, but discuss numerous motorsports competitions internationally.”

“Oh? Sounds nice. Didn’t take you for the podcasting type though.”

Ratio suppresses the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I prefer not to partake.” 

Finally, he finds something appealing on this stellar app– the irony of the name is not lost on him of course– and steadily goes through the options. A simple cafe, with an even simpler salad. Perfect for a hot day.

“In fact, with the Redlight Roadways specifically, I believe them to be no more than vultures descending on whatever has the most attention at the moment. They mindlessly pick the victim clean of any content they can strip it of, then leave the husk to rot while they move on to the next carcass.” 

Aventurine laughs softly, finally retreating from his spot next to Ratio. “Strong words for a podcast you listen to regularly.” He hums. When the doctor glances up to give him an odd look, he only smirks. “Episode 206?” 

“That is the most recent,” Ratio defends. “I only listen for information on the Penacony Grant Tournament. Nothing else.”

He earns a non committal hum from the blond as he slinks back towards the stairs, only to hop onto the metal table he’d inhabited the last time he was down here instead of freeing Ratio, and the garage, of his attendance.

There is a chair right next to him .

The worst part, Ratio realizes upon meeting Aventurine’s gaze, is that the racer knows . Knows and is waiting for the doctor to call him on it to start another debate that he, too, can pick it clean.

And frankly, Ratio would rather not spring that trap if he doesnt have to.

So, with a twitching eye and a frustrated huff, he selects his final option, pushing himself to his feet as he does so, and continues speaking. “Just because one dislikes an author does not mean their book cannot be useful. The Redlights, as they call themselves, provide information that is newcomer friendly. Including rules, lineups, and notable teams and racers.”

Even if their comments are biased at best and entirely uninformed at worst, it was still enough for Ratio to do his own research should he feel the need.

Yet Aventurine’s interest seems to be piqued on something else as he leans forward with clear interest.. “Oh? Anything about me yet?”

The doctor fixes him with a look even as he hands back the phone. “Last year was your debut. Despite being new to the track, your penchant for risky plays and flashy moves quickly had you labeled as a crowd favorite and the underdog of the season. Ultimately, you took second place in the finals with the Xianzhou Luofu taking first.” 

Aventurine hums,taking back the phone while pulling his legs into a criss-cross onto the table . It’s at this moment that Ratio realizes he’s only wearing socks.

Of course he would. 

At least he isn’t getting dirty shoes all over Ratio’s near-pristine table.

“See, that just tells me you did your research,” The blond points lightly while clicking a few things on the app then dropping it into his lap.“What did they say about me?” 

Ratio stifles a sigh. “Royale doubts you will make it to finals this year. Akashi believes you should have been disqualified from the start.” 

The blond’s expression shifts into a frown for a moment, only to be hidden once again by his grin. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he stares at Ratio intently. “And what do you think?”

Now that is a good question. One that takes some consideration. Admittedly, up until now the doctor hadn’t seen Aventurine race past perhaps a few minutes of a replay two weeks ago. He would have to change that if he intended to form a complete opinion of the racer in question. 

For now, all he can do is regurgitate what he’s been told alongside whatever opinions he’d already formed in the last two days of working for the blond.

“You have potential.” He finally settles. “However, as I said previously, the state of your motorcycle is going to make things difficult for you.”

To prove his point, the doctor gestures to the half-finished superbike laying propped against a tire of all things. Due to the angle, he had to essentially lay it on its side with supports beneath it so it wouldn’t touch the ground. He would have to do a precautionary flush and replacement of the vehicle’s fluids anyway. Even if the motorcycle is significantly newer, Ratio can never be sure of when it was last checked, and of course he doesn’t entirely know how high speeds would affect any fluids in a superbike like this.

“If you could let me do my job,” He continues pointedly, “Then I could lessen those difficulties. Yet here we are.”

“Alright, alright. I get your point.” The blond finally concedes with a playful huff. “You have work to do and you don't want me around when you do it. Fine.”

Ratio gives a satisfied nod, grateful that Aventurine can finally see–

“But~”

Nevermind.

“You do have a week.”

Ratio stiffens as he hears those words, fixing Aventurine with a searching look as he tries to find some poorly placed joke in the racer's tone.

“A week.” He echoes with disbelief.

“Yes?”

The doctor doesn’t hold back his sigh this time, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose and even take a slow breath before he prompts with a forced steadiness “What is today?”

He pretends he doesn’t see the way Aventurine checks the phone in his lap before– without missing a beat– answering confidently. “Saturday. So. A little under a week. Same difference really.”

“You did not read the schedule Topaz sent out, did you?” Ratio finally questions. At the very least, he could diagnose the source of the issue quite easily.

“Schedule?” The racer questions, all but confirming Ratio’s suspicions.

It takes everything Ratio has not to start banging his head against the table. “Yes. Topaz put out a schedule to everyone– except you, apparently– for how this week will play out.” He holds out a hand of six, trying to lay things out in the simplest possible way for this fool of a racer. “Your race is Friday, yes? You need to be there Thursday for practice runs and testing the track. Meaning your bike must be on the road Wednesday night at the latest.”

Each time he lists a date, he folds the corresponding finger down, until he has only his pinky, ring, and middle finger raised in the air.

Aventurine smirks, clearly having some opinions on this form of education, but the doctor continues before he can allow the blond to speak it. 

“I intend to reserve Tuesday for a test run on familiar ground, then to perform any last minute adjustments before the motorcycle is packed away. Leaving Monday and the remainder of the day. I can work Sunday if I must, but I consider that as my day off, and would not prefer the schedule to be interrupted.”

Though… he supposes he will have all of Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday off while Aventurine is out of town so perhaps he could push it. 

Nonetheless, he holds out his pinky a moment longer to allow his point to sink in, then folds his arms once again while watching the blond expectantly. “So perhaps you now understand why an interruption such as this would cause distress.”

“Mhm, I got that,” Aventurine finally concedes with a little tilt of his head, then the grin returns all too quickly as he adds “But, if you’re so worried about progress then why don’t you work now, hm? It’s not like I’ll touch anything y’know. Second rule and all that.”

Now that is only a mockery of the second rule. “Because in order to work, I need to focus .”

The racer doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh? Is my presence too distracting for you, doctor?”

It is. And judging by the way he’s smirking, Aventurine already knows it. 

So, doing what any human being with the self respect to not sink into yet another trap, Ratio does the only respectable option.

“Did you only come down here to offer food and a pointless conversation, or do you need me for something?” He prompts instead.

At the very least, he stands up and makes his way towards an open box on the shelf as he asks, completely missing Aventurine’s expression while he rifles through the container.

After removing a protective sheet at the bottom of the large box, he easily finds twin pairs of welding goggles staring back at him. The only reason he had remembered their exact location was because of his bafflement over why a garage with only one or two mechanics would need three sets of welding protective gear. Perhaps, with Aventurine insisting on hanging around, there had been reason after all.

“Hm? Oh. Topaz wanted to know if you were coming to the race or not. Entire trip’s paid for by the IPC, but she’s gotta know in advance.”

Any plans are partly halted by the racer’s words. Something as simple as that? Interrupting the doctor’s work for something that could have been an email?

“I will not be going,” he responds easily, words clipped as he wrestles his own frustration out of the forefront. 

Could it have been an email? Yes. Absolutely. But Aventurine is only the messenger and– on this matter at least– doesn’t deserve Ratio’s anger. As such, he takes another deep breath, then brings the welding goggles over to the blond and drops them into his hands. “Put those on.”

He doesn’t wait for confirmation and Aventurine doesn’t give one, instead only asks with clear surprise “Wha- Why not? It’s a free vacation .”

“Because it is not a free vacation, it is a way to keep the mechanic within traveling distance should something go wrong.” Ratio answers in turn, sinking back onto his knees while pulling on his own welding mask and the gloves that go alongside it. “Besides, even if I wanted to attend, I could not due to prior engagements.”

He hears Aventurine say something but can barely hear it over the sound of the welding machine starting up. The next thing he does hear from Aventurine is a quiet hiss, followed by ‘Holy shit that’s bright’ once the doctor begins where he’d left off earlier. 

“Did I not just tell you to put on those goggles?” He questions without turning back.

“I did.” The blond responds in turn, as if Ratio can’t hear the slow shhhhk of velcro being pulled and adjusted.

Ratio nearly rolls his eyes at the blatant lie, but he’s already nearly finished. “When I give an instruction, I expect it to be done immediately as there is always a reason.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Aventurine responds dismissively behind him. “So this ‘prior engagement’, huh? Do you have a date or something?” 

If the doctor could shoot the racer a dirty look past the welding shield, he certainly would have just then. Not only is a question like that unprofessional– though, he supposes this entire conversation has been anything but professional– but similarly it is distracting him once again .

This is precisely why he dislikes people being near him while he works. 

“No. And frankly, I fail to see how that is of concern to you.” He replies sharply, pressing harder on the welding tool to get this done faster. Nearly there. It may look significantly messier but with this out of the way he can focus on much easier tasks. “But to answer your question: It is purely academic and mandatory .”

“So teacher shit then.” Ratio can practically hear the smile in Aventurine’s voice, and turns his head to the blond to at least simulate a glare. A tactic that apparently works when Aventurine corrects himself with the start of a laugh. “Professor shit. My bad, my bad.” 

The doctor sighs, shaking his head to dispel the momentary annoyance and return to his task. He’s almost there . “I have a presentation on the same day as your race, a small college in a smaller city than this, but multiple hours away regardless. Even if I wanted to attend, I would not be able to.”

“Wait… where is this presentation, exactly?” The doctor doesn’t need to see to hear the quiet disbelief in Aventurine’s tone. Part of him is curious of course, though the second part greatly wishes to return to silence again. 

“Swalen community college.”

A quiet ‘holy shit’ barely rises above the low buzz of the welding machine, followed by a much louder laugh. “Okay, so you’re not going to believe this…”

He probably wont. “Out with it, Racer.” He demands regardless.

“So fun fact about Swalen: The city funded the construction of a large race track a few years ago. And it’s being reserved in… I don’t know. Less than a week? For a race?”

What are the fucking odds?

Of course, the answer is incredibly unlikely. Hundreds of cities all across the country, most having at least some small community college. Only a select few would have the space, funds, or infrastructure to handle erecting and hosting a large-scale race such as the Penacony Grant Tournament. There are countless community colleges, yet Ratio just so happened to choose the one city on the perfect date for Aventurine’s plans. “Perhaps it is another Swalen.” He suggests haltingly, hoping that his suggestion is true. There has to be some other Swalen, much like there are over 30 springfields in the united states.

He’s left waiting and hoping for nearly a minute before Aventurine responds with a chuckle and a “Nope!” with an excited pop of the ‘P’ and everything. Well isn’t he just having the time of his life while Ratio realizes he may very well have to deal with the blond the entire weekend regardless.

Truly, the gods of this world must be playing a prank on him.

“Soooo~ If we’re going to be in the same city regardless, might as well take advantage of the IPC’s generous offer, right?” The blond suggests next. “Two birds with one stone and all that?” 

And Ratio, playing the fool for once in his life, actually considers the offer for too long before sighing, turning the welding tool back on, and mumbles back a quiet ���I will think about it.”

He thinks that’s the end of it. And for a few minutes it is. He hears some game fade into the background of white noise caused by the machine next to his ear, but thankfully Aventurine doesn’t speak again. Ratio takes the opportunity to attach the last bit of the rotator clutch to the bike itself, his thoughts looping over a trip spent with Aventurine of all people.

He’d much sooner tear his hair out, of course. Being stuck in close quarters with the blond between three and eight hours? 

On one hand, it couldn’t be that bad. Aventurine– for all his reckless decisions and complete disregard for his own safety– is quite intelligent from what the doctor’s witnessed. At least enough to rope Ratio into two separate schemes thus far, and of course to find exactly which lines to prod at and weaponize those later.

That being said, who knows how Aventurine is when being told to sit still for too long? And will Ratio be able to withstand his endless chatter for however long it takes?

More debates are had as he finally eases the line of metal to the very start of the loop and, with a sigh of relief, turns the welding tool off for the final time.

He turns off the welding machine at the same time that he pulls off the mask and sets it aside. His hair is even sweatier now, and stays pulled back when he runs a hand through it. At the cost of his hand now being wet.

“You done?” A voice asks, drawing Ratio out of his blissful few minutes of silence. His gaze returns to Aventurine’s, the racer possessing a smile much more genuine than Ratio’s accustomed to. He can actually read the excitement from the blond’s eyes. The goggles have been pushed into his already-messy hair now, while a phone rests in his lap with bright colors and moving figures flashing over the device every few seconds.

Somehow, even with those ridiculous looking goggles, he still manages to look halfway decent. 

How does he do it?

“With that, yes. With the entire motorcycle? Not even close.”

For his effort, he receives a dramatic whine and a certain blond draping himself across the table in protest.

Aventurine’s phone had dinged before they could dive too far into the debate over whether Ratio had ‘done enough for the day’ or not, sparking a different one over whether they should eat in the garage or the kitchen.

Seeing as Ratio had never seen the inside of Aventurine’s home, he had suggested garage. However there was, of course, the fact that Aventurine’s behind and socks had been all over the only reliable flat surface in the garage, and that it’s hot as all hell down there. So, unfortunately for the doctor, he had to concede to the agreement to eat in Aventurine’s home.

His first impression with the inside of the house is… well.

To put it simply whoever had decorated had no idea what interior design is past a few key phrases and words. 

A black leather couch sits in the center of the greeting room, accompanied by white end tables and two brown recliners of different shades and notably not leather. The rug under the seating area is colored putrid yellow with probably the most uncomfortable looking fibers Ratio has ever seen. Why anyone would want to stand on that is beyond him, much less to keep the thing. 

Plants, vases, and random ornaments decorate every possible surface but nearly each one has slivers of gold or some other feature that makes it overly expensive with no other theme. A glance up confirms a second floor complete with an indoor balcony. The railing is also decorated with overpriced knicknacks. 

He's personally affronted when he sees a black, ceramic sculpture of an unsolved rubik's cube sitting in the center of the coffee table.

“Oh, when Caeleb knocks, can you get the door? He already knows the drill and all that.” Aventurine asks as he passes Ratio to get to the kitchen, noticing absolutely nothing wrong with the decor. Though, Ratio supposes he can always file away this, too, as another strange thing the racer does.

After all, he decorates his home with deliberately expensive items, but his chosen leisure ride is a moving safety code. Perhaps it’s a facade he’s pushing? Or a separation between work life and personal life. Even Ratio cannot fault him for that.

But the contrast is far too stark and–

Three loud knocks startle him from his thoughts, earning a jolt from the doctor before he steadies himself and yanks open the front door with a huff.

He isn’t sure what he was expecting on the other side, but the person waiting for him certainly isn’t it.

An older teen, nineteen at the most, bearing a baseball bat strapped to his back and a white bag held delicately in his arms. Messy grey hair falls around his face, barely revealing yellow eyes staring brightly back at Ratio. A name tag barely hangs onto his shirt, spelling Caeleb, except the name itself has been crossed out and rewritten so many times that there is no telling how many other names exist under the permanent black ink.

And yet the thing that catches Ratio’s attention the most when he sees it isn’t the name tag or the concerning question of why a teenager would need a bat in the first place, but instead a mustache. A thick, brown mustache sitting just under Caeleb’s nose. Noticeably crooked with one end quite literally hanging into the corner of the teen’s mouth from where the adhesive meant to hold it into place decided to give out.

And if that isn’t bad enough, suddenly the driver speaks . “I thought it would be Riney opening the door. But congrats on the plot development!”

… What?

“Excuse me?”

Already there is so much to unpack from two sentences, enough to give the doctor whiplash. Apparently when his students use the term ‘blue screening’ they truly mean they blue screen considering Ratio is certainly blanking here. What plot?

Caeleb laughs faintly, before thrusting the bag into Ratio’s arms with a shrug. “It’s nothing, just some trailblazer humor.”

He gets an odd look from the doctor, who only sighs and takes the burden of the bags off the driver’s hands, shaking his head all the while. “I see. Am I expected to tip you or is there a feature already on the app?”

A pause. He can practically see the hamster wheel spinning in that brain of Caeleb’s as he considers how to answer as if his silence isn’t answer enough.

“Well if you want to–” 

“I will take that as a negative. Thank you for the delivery.” Ratio responds before Caeleb can finish, closing the door with one final swift nod. Only to turn around and see Aventurine poking his head out from around the corner of the open kitchen wearing a smug grin.

“Soooo what’d you think of Caeleb?” The blond asks with a playful purr to his voice, one that makes Ratio want to roll his eyes.

“Odd and eccentric,” Ratio answers as he pushes past the racer. “Though I suppose that is why you employ him regularly.”

“Hm? I never said that.”

“He called you ‘Riney’.” He explains, depositing the bag onto the table– deliberately ignoring the stripe of dust remaining from Aventurine’s attempt to hide its disuse– and beginning to free it of its contents. “Additionally, he was able to make it to the front door without calling you or having someone call you to verify his identity, meaning he already has gate access.”

Aventurine chuckles quietly. “Smart as always, doctor. But~ I don’t just keep him around for his ‘eccentricities’ y’know.”

Two to-go boxes are pulled out of the bag with ease, though neither are from the same place. One is smaller, black foam with the words ‘SALAD’ written in white paint pen, while the second is much larger and white with a familiar logo on the front.

“He’s also the fastest delivery driver I know. Able to make any delivery in under an hour.”

Either that is an overstatement, or Caeleb actively breaks the law to be here in time. And of course, there’s no telling why he would do anything with a baseball bat strapped to his back.

Though, he supposes as long as he doesn’t cause trouble for Aventurine then it should be no issue what he does on the side.

“I suppose.” The doctor concedes whilst finally putting his sights on the salad he has endured so much of Aventurine’s antics for. A caesar salad with the dressing on the side and a plastic fork already waiting for him. Perfect. 

Aaand then he sees what Aventurine had ordered.

That logo suddenly makes all the more sense as the top is flipped up and sitting inside are six sizable triangular pastries covered in powdered sugar, the same pastries that he had seen the very first night they’d met.

Aventurine wastes no time reaching for one, and that familiar spike of concern Ratio has gotten far too familiar with comes back full force when the blond devours half of it in one bite.

Before, he’d simply let it go due to other concerns making themselves known shortly after. Alongside general self control of course. This time, however, there are no other concerns to note. And unfortunately for Ratio,  self control is not there to take the wheel.

“Surely those cannot be healthy for you.” He points out whilst staring up at the racer. Three open chairs available and Aventurine decides to stand beside the table to enjoy his sugar-in-a-box. Sure, this is no meal so much as a light snack at best and an overindulgence at worst, but at the very least he could sit . Though, Ratio supposes it’s only fitting that Aventurine’s definition of when and where to sit is warped considering his insistence on using the metal table.

That is besides the point. The point is that he hopes Aventurine doesn’t intend to eat all of those beignets in one sitting.

Aventurine pauses with his mouth full, dual colored eyes blinking at Ratio with puzzlement before he chews, swallows, and gives the start of a laugh. “It’s just a little treat, not the end of the world. Or… Maybe you want one?” 

His cheeks are white from where the powder transferred over, his shirt similarly sprinkled with white specks. Somehow one hand had taken the full brunt of the mess while his other was left free. It’s the one free of any powdered sugar that pushes the box towards Ratio in invitation.

“I am quite fine.” He bites out as he pulls his salad closer toward himself with a withering glare at the pastries. Perhaps in any other circumstance he would take one as a treat, but at the moment? Absolutely not.

“Mhm, your loss.” The racer shrugs as he pulls the box towards him once more.

Ratio can only watch with growing concern as Aventurine fishes out his next victim and takes a bite much slower this time. Watching Ratio all the while with an amused glint in his otherwise lightless eyes, as if taunting the doctor for not accepting the offer.

“At least tell me that is not the only thing you’ve eaten today.”

The blond freezes mid-bite. Though his eyes don’t immediately give away the truth, Ratio already knows. After all, his earlier assessment that Aventurine had just woken up still stands.

“Of course it is.” Ratio mutters as he stabs his fork into the salad.

“In my defense ,” Aventurine starts, mouth still full of fried pastry before he grimaces and swallows it down with no water or anything– additional note, he should be drinking water with those regardless– then continues speaking as if he hadn’t nearly choked on powdered sugar and bread. “The nutritionist has a shit idea of what good food tastes like.”

The fork stills entirely, Ratio’s attention once again stolen in full by Aventurine’s words and the mounting mix of horror and overwhelming concern that comes with them.

A nutritionist. Aventurine has a nutritionist.

Logically speaking, it would make sense. After all, racers need to keep a consistent weight to ensure proper traction on the track, and of course the IPC would not like any complications to rise in their dear showpony.

And yet here Aventurine stands, ignoring that nutritionist.

“You have a nutritionist ,” he reiterates, earning a nod “to which is paid to ensure your health . And you eat like this?”

He earns a nonchalant shrug for his effort. “Yeah? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

That’s it. The next time Ratio shows up to work he will be armed with a pocket full of chalk specifically for idiotic statements like that.

First, putting a bucket over one’s head does not save them from a snake they cannot see. He is and will always be a believer in the words ‘ignorance is blight’ for this exact reason.

Second, there is clearly no communication between Aventurine and his paid nutritionist despite a quick conversation likely being able to fix most of the issues. And by the sounds of it, Aventurine has no intention of telling him either.

Really, trying to give an explanation of either would be headache inducing.

“Yes, but it is hurting you,” He chooses instead. “Do you have any idea what eating only sugar and carbs does to one’s body? Even if it is for one day and this is not a common occurrence, it can still lead to digestive issues. For long-term, your risk of heart disease will greatly increase.”

Aventurine doesn’t falter, only abandoning the beignet he’d been working on back into its box and giving a dramatic, drawn out sigh. “And now you sound like my nutritionist.”

“Well forgive me then for caring about your health when you clearly do not.” Ratio snaps finally, only to freeze when Aventurine stiffens. Shoulders tightening considering, the dramatic frown falling to something much more hidden. Pink and blue eyes harden and void of any lingering amusement.

Frankly, Ratio doesn’t understand why the sudden change when he’d been telling the truth. Had he crossed a line? Perhaps, but why would there be a line over concerning oneself with the health of a colleague? 

If he had crossed a line, he privately supplies, then perhaps this will be enough to discourage Aventurine’s meddling in his work. The idea doesn’t sound as appealing as he wishes it to be, unfortunately.

Finally, Aventurine’s momentary tension turns into an easy laugh once again– easy only in tone as the doctor recognizes the forced notes hiding just beneath the surface– and once more than confident, entirely unreadable smirk graces his lips.

 “Well if you care so much then how about a deal.” His voice smoothes out the same way it had when offering Ratio their very first deal in the cafe, airy voice light and free of concern. At least on the surface. “For the next week I will do whatever you want me to. Drink water? Done. No more sweets? No problem. Only eat what I’m assigned by the nutritionist? … An unfortunate yes.”

Ratio’s brow raises in question and cursed curiosity at the sudden offer, crossing his arms expectantly. “And the trade off?”

Aventurine’s grin widens though it doesn’t reach his eyes. He offers a hand as he continues. “You and I ride together to Swalen. What you do after that is up to you.” 

…

That’s a horrible deal on Aventurine’s part, and the racer clearly knows it even as he waits patiently for an answer. Very little gain, with a week of sacrifices to trade for it. For Ratio himself it becomes a question of how far he will go to ensure this idiot doesn’t accidentally kill himself with his own disregard for his personal health. For a week of course, but a week is enough time to establish healthier habits.

Assuming Aventurine will pick apart his own deal for loopholes, it also becomes a question of how much the doctor is willing to tolerate of the blond.

But why trade all of that for being stuck in a car with Ratio for sixteen hours? What gain is there in that?

“Well, doctor? Do we have a deal?”

[headspace-hotel]

Kentucky House Bill 300 would allow a woman who has an abortion to be charged with murder.

This was the plan all along.

I hope any pro-lifers that see this know that 1) you wanted this, supported this, rallied for this, voted for this and 2) I hope you get brutally mauled by feral hogs so that you will feel a minuscule fraction of the pain and suffering that you devote your life, the only life you will ever live upon this earth, to inflicting upon others.

You have devoted your time, money, and passion to ensuring that if I got raped—something that I, as a woman, have a roughly 1 in 6 chance of experiencing—I could not safely go to a hospital to seek medical care, and instead would be left to wait to see whether or not the nightmare I am trapped in will become a worse nightmare that ends with either suicide or excruciating pain, unthinkable violation, and potentially horrific bodily harm.

I wish you wanted me dead instead.

[drabsyo]

Are you ever going to draw more for your Heather's Murder Mystery AU? I would love to see more art of it! If not, that's okay

something something obligatory "Veronica and Heather are all alone in the hospital after Heather is trying to recover from her stab wounds and the killer is one of their friends (?)" scene, and oh they've just confessed their feelings for each other earlier because seeing the other one get hurt made them realize how badly they want each other in their lives

welcome to Act Three

[palms-upturned]

I think that post tribunal Harry should have some kind of option where if u talk to Roy in the pawn shop he’ll tell u that he has a cane from when his radiation symptoms were worse and u can have it now free of charge because dear Jesus god why are you walking around with a hole in your leg and a broken hip in a town where tripping over craters is an everyday occurrence? Please take it, it’s stressful just to watch you. And if you lost your necktie to the spirit bomb, the cane will talk to you in a new voice (because Roy is voiced by the same actor who voices the necktie) and it gives you volition and pain threshold bonuses. What to call it? Beautiful cane. Sturdy cane. Supportive cane. Idk I’m not good at the naming part. It would call you bratan/bratushka in honor of the necktie and also bc its voice comes from a place that wants to keep u alive just like the necktie, but this time it’s smth u can’t hang urself with. Anyway devs you can have this idea for free please please pl

[nomsfaultau]

in my heart cannibalism is normalized in the Minecraft universe, thank you

have u seen that one post looking at the statistics of the cannibalism in dsmp fics?

Also. I mean. Think about it: early days on the server when you haven’t made a farm yet, and decide to kill your self to reset hunger? The corpse provides all the ‘roasted porkchops’ you need to get back to full…

[mariocki]

Infinite list of favourite lyrics: 229/?

Bobbie Gentry - Ode to Billie Joe (1967)

"And Papa said to Mama, as he passed around the black-eyed peas:

'Well, Billie Joe never had a lick of sense; pass the biscuits, please.

There's five more acres in the lower forty I got to plow'

And Mama said it was a shame about Billie Joe, anyhow.

Seems like nothin' ever comes to no good up on Choctaw Ridge

And now Billie Joe McAllister's jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge"

[...]

"Mama said to me, 'Child, what's happened to your appetite?

I've been cookin' all morning, and you haven't touched a single bite.

That nice young preacher, Brother Taylor, dropped by today

Said he'd be pleased to have dinner on Sunday - oh, by the way

He said he saw a girl that looked a lot like you up on Choctaw Ridge

And she and Billie Joe was throwin' something off the Tallahatchie Bridge'"

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

mentioned my dad was alive the same time mao zedong died and some guy went 'he must have had a shit childhood then!!!' shut the fuck up.

[quietwingsinthesky]

if i ever say anything mean or anything that sounds like character crit of the spn characters, please mentally append “and that’s why i love them” to the end of it because i promise you, whatever terrible thing im saying they did, i enjoyed it immensely and wish they did it more

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

now i do like 'young and menace' but it is not a pleasant listening experience for me, personally. i think it's a beautiful piece of art that perfectly encapsulates the essence of all the evils of mental illness in sonic form. and is therefore a deeply uncomfortable listen FOR ME. like yeah! oops i. did it again i. forgot what i was losing my mind about. for real! that is what that sounds like. mania itself caught like lightning in a bottle (3:43 long song).

[blink182-electricboogaloo]

I keep forgetting how many people actually read Suicide Clutch and then I get jumpscared by the analytics screen saying 140 people are subbed to the fic

Like where did yall come from???

[caterva]

[javiersprincess]

i think forever the saddest thing about the tlou games is ellie seeing joel’s house after his death. the unmade bed, dirty dishes and unfinished laundry. the pictures of his family - tommy, sara and ellie. his guitar and the unfinished wood carving. his reading glasses and the texas decor. all the the shouts of ellie’s presence in his life ; the drawing of him, the book from the museum and the space book for dummies are not echos that haunt that house. its so painstakingly real of what its like when someone dies it hurts to think about, the evidence that someone was there but isn’t anymore.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

idk the way both tom and emily react when adira is out of the picture and presumed potentially dead or suffering atrocities at the hands of the state (hint: it's the latter) is interesting to me

[mloreley]

Please I am begging you go OFF about CxG

Do you know what you're asking?

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is one of the best representations of mental health on television I've ever seen. It doesn't shy away from difficult, or even obscenely troubled subjects, and the discussion in the show ends up in a healthier place than I think most comedies ever really go.

The show is a musical, which is an automatic plus in my book. And in fact, the context for WHY it's a musical is something that hits me right in my daydreaming baby heart; someone coping with real life stress by using daydreaming and music to work through something in their head. And it's not just a conceit for the premise, either! There's literally a plot reason for it!

This is a show that revolves around the relationships the main character has with the people around her; romantic, familial, friendship, and more. It surrounds her with so many different kinds of love, and explicitly calls it love. Whether she's able to recognize it as love is a different question, but then, it's always harder to see the love in our lives when we've been trained into believing we don't deserve it.

More (and spoilers) under the cut.

The show is about a woman with severe trauma and a long-standing mental health struggle finding and falling in love with herself. While the show does a lot of framing around the romantic relationships in her life, it's because she only considers love to be real when it's from a partner- someone who chooses to be with you, as opposed to family (for whom it should be 'the bare minimum', in her mind, even though she's still desperately seeking that, too).

She acts horribly for three seasons. If you've never fought with the demons implanted from severe neglect, abuse, and trauma, her actions make her unsympathetic; they make her "The Villain In [Her] Own Story", and she's just smart enough to be able to talk and charm her way out of consequences for a good chunk of it. Of course, those are skills she learned trying to appease her never-appeaseable mother, whose horrific treatment of her daughter forced her to overcompensate with placating, charming, ego-stroking, approval-seeking behavior.

And as someone who has struggled with my mental health my entire life, as someone whose behavior has sometimes been out of line, and as someone who has had to do a lot of self-reflection, I see every bad decision she makes and I ache for her to be better. Because while I was never as bad as her, I feel the same thought patterns, I see the lines she sees where others only see irrational, over the top awful behavior.

I could talk about the scene where she's shown all of her new friends and found family in West Covina mourning her disappearance in the first season, how it makes me cry because I've had to learn how to recognize that in the people around me. Not just in a "they'll miss me if I'm gone" sense, but just recognizing that you can touch people's lives in ways you can't see, in ways they may not always know you've affected.

Or maybe the scene where, cornered, triggered, panicked, and deeply hurt, convinced that she's already lost all of her friends and loved ones, she lashes out with the harshest things she can say to everyone in her life. I know why she does it; she's hurting, and she wants to be the one to 'cut the ties' before they do it to her. I understand that though process so clearly. But every venomous word she shoots at them, it's a wound in her heart just as much as it is the people who care for her. I know, because I've been there.

There's the scene after she hits her lowest point, where she no longer believes that anyone loves her, where she realizes she has no life either where she grew up or where she moved to and doesn't want to be in either place, where she hurts so much that the only option she sees to escape it is to take her own life. I can't even think of that scene without a sharp intake of breath and tears coming to my eyes, because it's so viscerally real. The moment she looks out the window, taking in the serenity of a blue sky with gorgeous white clouds, communicating the strange peace you feel when you've finally decided to 'go through with it', GOD it's so fucking real. It's a detail that I don't see included in most shows depicting a suicide attempt, and it tells me that the showrunners are speaking from experience.

And that immediately after setting that in motion, she finds hope at the very last second. That she seeks help because she has finally found that last grain of hope in her. It's executed so well. (Hey, I'm literally crying while writing this; it has a tremendous emotional impact for me).

The moments in therapy where she expresses terror over trying to find a relationship after the last serious one she had ended with a suicide attempt, and is scared knowing that it's a place she can go, or when she doubts going on medication because her last prescription numbed her out instead of addressing the problem, those are so. fucking. real. Real concerns born only out of having been through the process of finally seeking help and becoming afraid of 'going back'.

Or the last fucking episode of the show, where she discovers the most important relationship in her life; one with herself. Where the entire context of her imagining musical numbers to work through things comes back around; it turns out that composing music and writing songs is a skill? And one she never got the chance to explore because her mother denied her every opportunity in order to mold her into "The Perfect Daughter"?

Her relationship with Paula is the second most relationship in the show; they both change each other for the better, even as they sometimes bring out the worst in each other. The level of trust they build, and the genuine love they share for each other, is so healing for both of them. It's fitting that Paula is the one to eventually point out what Rebecca couldn't see; that she was actually really amazing, and not for what anyone else taught her to do, but just for who she always was.

The show does an excellent job of showing deeply flawed, real people who make mistakes, and learn and grow from them. It's a rare show where "everyone is happy in the end" doesn't feel contrived, because they've all earned where they end up.

I think I'm momentarily Crazy Ex-Girlfriended out at the moment, and this is still only scraping the tip of the iceberg and mostly in how much I personally relate to the main character (enough that I've actually begun looking into a similar diagnosis for the stuff I'm going through), but I hope you appreciate my going off on it a bit. XD Thank you for the invitation to do so.

[gothamcityneedsme]

i would accept the joker if like, the brainiac brainwashing unlocked the joker locked in batman's mind though. a jokerfied batman is right there. then you don't even have to kill him. that'd be a blast.

[currentlyonstandbi]

the absolute emotional rollercoaster experienced right after a suicidal/depressive episode passes and you're feeling somewhat relatively well-adjusted like you weren't completely off the fucking rails less than 24 hours ago