#the crowd boos. i begin to walk off in shame when a voice speaks out and commands silence from the room | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

batsplat · 4 months ago

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still the same anon here. so what if instead of The Devil™️ it is a demon instead? valentino still strikes a faustian bargain and all we’re 100% keeping that. and yeah yzr-m1 is the manifestation of that demonic spirit. you know that valentino tribute video which is from the bike’s pov? “I’d been waiting for somebody like you for so long. I was nervous, but it was love at first sight for both of us. I knew instantly our relationship would be something truly special. We had that undeniable once-in-a-lifetime spark, and all the pieces of the puzzle just came together. I will never forget how we stopped on the grass in Welkom in 2004. Just the two of us, realising that you and me together was right – and that this was only the beginning….” etc. like this was so insane I think about it a lot. anyways, yzr-m1 is not exactly like a malicious presence, and obviously loves valentino but it is inhuman! and valentino chooses to give it…..or her? his heart and that turns him a lil bit inhuman too….. and let’s remember that irl valentino keeps this fucking bike in his bedroom…….very “character who keeps the cursed artifact, which is the source of their power, close” of him. and also talks to her before every race…..

the ducati years is yzr-m1 cursing valentino for abandoning it/her btw.

ummmmm what possessed me to write all this I don’t know btw

(x, x) no go on, anon... that bike letter is so. so.... I also think about it too often. the fact they literally got someone to read this stuff out loud... they gave the bike a voice... what a sport. *pinches bridge of nose* anyway. I think!! the bike can be a little bit demonic. but it can also like... reflect something of the rider back at the rider - so that as a Part of the rider, it ends up becoming an externalisation of some of their most notable traits, a way of emphasising them as well as distorting them. it whispers back at you what's already in your soul... and if you pour a part of yourself into that machine, then this is what your machine will inevitably become. so it's a bit... the nature of competition, right, ensures that this naked desire to win will end up being transmitted to the machine. but then if you draw your desire to win from spite specifically... if you have, for instance, switched manufacturers and wish to prove the entire world wrong, to make your former employer miserable, to show up your rivals and make them suffer... then eventually, that desire will fester within the machine and its nature will be twisted and corrupted accordingly

though I do like valentino's yamaha being Special and Weird!! adores valentino, is possessive of valentino, is unnatural and by definition inhuman, is already kinda inclined towards malice, calls valentino away from honda... again, it's a way of representing what the step from honda to yamaha actually Means in narrative terms, how it's this process of self-actualisation with both good and not so good consequences... like!! it was the perfect marriage between a giant of the sport in ill-health and a champion who desperately required a new challenge. some purpose. so if you have a capricious, maltreated bike that simply finds the concept of valentino - uh, *clears throat* riding it too attractive to resist... then why not tempt the two-time defending champion to make the switch? to take the leap into the unknown? to give himself over to this new adventure? and, yes, this bike will not take kindly to being abandoned...

anyway yeah there's a happy middle ground there somewhere in where the malevolence Comes From. something already kinda creepy, unnatural about the yamaha that then is encouraged by valentino - who talks to it before every race, imposes his own will on the machine and gets some of his malice and spite reflected back at him. valentino whispers to the bike and the bike whispers back... he keeps it close to him, as it now contains a part of his soul. a mutuality here, a symbiosis... it's coming into your own as a bike and as a rider by embracing the cruelty of competition to the fullest. a partnership that is extraordinarily successful but also morally corrosive. a "once in a lifetime spark", if you will

#what if u and ur bike matched each other's freak #btw anon i need you to know you sent me into a proper utena spiral #apparently i just needed to think about that show for like two minutes for it to trigger something in my brain #some proper juri/shiori hashtag scholarship was happening in my notes back in the day i've discovered #brr brr #batsplat responds #//#'casey stoner is a magical girl' i say into the mic #the crowd boos. i begin to walk off in shame when a voice speaks out and commands silence from the room #'she's right' i hear. i look around for the owner of the voice. there in the fourth row stands known weeb valentino rossi himself #spec tag

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lostinmirkwood · 4 years ago

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Rinkside

Find it on AO3 here.

It’s not often that Arya gets to go to a hockey game anymore. Between classes for her Master’s degree, work, and the ticket prices it never seems to work out in her favor. But when Ned wins a pair of tickets to tonight’s Storm’s End Lightning game and offers to take her with him she jumps at the chance. Ned knew how much she loved hockey and she was ecstatic when he thought of her first to take with him.

“Want a beer?” he asks as they find their seats. She takes a moment to survey her surroundings, they weren’t the best seats in the house, but they were free.

“Sure, but just the one, and some popcorn too if it’s not too much trouble!” He smiles at her and takes off to get drinks and snacks for them before the game starts.

While waiting for the lights to dim and the music to start she looks around at the people that are slowly filling in around them. The sight of children bundled up like small marshmallows against the chill of the arena, their parents arms loaded with popcorn and sodas makes her smile at the memories of going to games with her father and brothers at the Winterfell Ice Arena growing up. A couple of guys in jerseys fill in behind them, loudly talking about the upcoming wedding of one of them, a father is explaining the basics of the game to a little girl with blonde pigtails in the row ahead, and two seats down from her sits a man in a nice business suit. Her eyes linger on him for just a moment and she wonders if they’ve met before, and why he’s wearing a suit to a hockey game. There’s something that is vaguely familiar about his messy black hair and icy blue eyes. He’s quite attractive and when she catches his eye they exchange a small smile before she quickly looks away with a slight blush.

Ned returns just as the lights dim, handing her a beer and a small bag of popcorn, a tray of nachos in his other hand. They stand and clap as the music begins and the players make their way onto the ice.

“Thanks for bringing me,” she says as they sit back down.

“Well, I know how much you love it. The pictures at your desk speak for themselves! It must be your Northern blood, I don’t know how you aren’t freezing,” Ned is bundled in a scarf, and hat with gloves poking out of the front pocket of his heavy sweatshirt.

Arya internally rolls her eyes but smiles at him, Dornishmen . The arena isn’t that cold. “I do love a good game.”

Ned grins back before saying, “I’m not very familiar with all of this like you. We don’t play ice sports in the south. You’re going to have to help me out here.”

“Ned, we are in the south. And Sunspear has an ice hockey team.”

“Everything’s south to you, Stark. Plus we only got a hockey team five years ago. Point still stands, the game?”

“What do you want to know? Ask and I’ll answer.” A small huff of laughter to her right causes her to look over quickly. The man in the suit is looking at her directly, a grin on twitching at the corners of his full lips. She furrows her brows for a moment at him before turning her focus back to Ned and the ice, a brief grumble in her mind that he was laughing at her. “Girls know sports too, stupid,” she thinks before putting him out of her mind.

The first period is uneventful, not even a fight on the ice to liven things up. The score stands at zero-zero. Of course, the one game she can attend would be boring. During the intermission they make their way to the concession stand, Ned grabbing another beer and Arya getting water and some Twizzlers, her favorite hockey game snack from when she was a child. One their way back to their seat she notices the dark haired man in the suit is no longer alone, another man in an equally nice suit has joined him. He’s tall and thin with curly red hair and also looks familiar, but she can’t quite place either one of them.

Not even three minutes have passed in the second period when one of the Lannisport Lions slams a Lightning player into the boards. The crowd boos as the player lays on the ice for a moment to catch his breath before shakily getting back to his skates, the boos get even louder when the referees don’t call a penalty.

“Oh come on!” Arya shouts as she stands, throwing her arms in the air, “that’s boarding!”

“What’s boarding?” Ned asks.

“It’s when a player pushes another into the glass unnecessarily rough. It’s a five minute penalty for the Lions but these refs just screwed us out of that opportunity for a power play.”

A deep voice from her right comments, “It would’ve only been a minor.”

She turns to see both men looking at her, a pair of blue eyes twinkling from under the fall of dark hair.

“A minor?” she challenges, “he was almost unconscious!”

“Yeah, but he’s not bleeding,” Blue Eyes grins at her. She stares him for a moment before glancing back at his red haired friend to see him grinning as well. She gives them a curt nod before turning her focus back to the game.

“What’s his problem?” Ned murmurs. Arya just shakes her head.

By the end of the second period the Lightning are down by two.

“Sorry,” Ned says as they watch the Zamboni chug around the rink. The little pigtailed girl in front of them is asleep against her father’s arm.

“What for?” Arya asks.

“For the game being a crappy one,” he smiles at her, and she smiles back.

“You can’t tell the future Ned, so don’t apologize. I’m very happy to be here. I haven’t been able to go to a hockey game in a few years.” Arya hasn’t been able to make it home to Winterfell since she started her Master’s program and the Winterfell Wolves haven’t played the Storm’s End Lightning in Storm’s End at a time when she wasn’t drowning in exams, papers, and work. Not even the chance to see Robb on the ice could manage to pull her away from the pressing demands and deadlines of her job and school work as much as she would have loved to go.

The third period starts and five minutes in the Lions score another goal. That’s when the Lightning forget about playing to win and start playing for revenge. The first instance comes in a small skirmish that results in minor, two minute, penalties for both teams. As soon as those are over another skirmish breaks out, this time turning into an all out brawl.

“Kick his ass!” Arya yells, standing and cheering as helmets and gloves go flying and sticks are dropped to the ice. Ned looks taken aback by the sudden outburst of violence from her.

“You like the fights?” he asks.

“Like? Are you kidding, they’re the best part!” She shouts again as the Lightning player finally gets the upper-hand and sends the Lion skidding across the ice.

“It’s a shame Waters isn’t playing tonight.” Arya turns to her right to see the redheaded man grinning up at her. The dark haired man beside him is giving him an inscrutable look.

She sighs internally and takes the bait, “And why is that?”

“He would have had Marbrand knocked out in half the time. Lemoncloak isn’t nearly as good at fighting as Waters is.”

Arya scoffs, “Lemoncloak might not be as good at fighting, but at least he’s not an absolute asshole like Waters is. Have you ever seen how he fights? I mean, I’m all for getting down and dirty on the ice but there’s a line and he crosses it every time. It’s like he gets off on it,” she says, making an obscene jerking motion with her hand. “There’s a reason the fans chant “Ice Cold” when he takes the ice.”

The two men share a look and a smile. “What? You disagree?” Arya asks.

“Well, I disagree,” the dark haired man replies, “but it’s nice to know what other people think.”

Arya raises an eyebrow at him before turning her attention back to Lemoncloak and Marbrand being ejected from the game. When it’s all over Storm’s End has lost 4-1. Arya sighs as she and Ned pick up their trash to toss on their way out. She notices an odd look on Ned’s face and turns to see the dark haired man standing right behind her, towering over her.

“Is it a habit of yours to hover behind people?” she asks, looking up and up his firm chest to meet his icy blue eyes. She hadn’t quite realized how tall he was folded into the stadium chair near her.

“Just the ones I find interesting,” Arya narrows her eyes at him as he sticks out his hand, “I thought we should meet properly. Gendry Waters, left defenseman, ‘the guy who gets off on fighting’.”

Arya blushes furiously, swallowing hard and fumbling for a second as she puts her small hand into his massive one, “Arya,” she grits out, “and I’m sorry about that. If I had known…”

“You would have kept it to yourself? Where’s the fun in that?” He grins at her, perfect white teeth glinting in the arena lights. He must be fucking with her, she thinks.

“Okaaaay… This is sufficiently awkward. I’m going to go,” she pulls her hand free to gesture over her shoulder to where Ned is probably standing staring at the two of them. She had temporarily forgotten there were people around. Her hand feels cold for a moment without his warm palm around hers.

“Wait,” Gendry says, “this asshole is Anguy Archer, right wing.”

“Hi,” she says, waving awkwardly. The redhead flashes her a bright smile and a wave.

“We’re gonna go out with the guys and get a beer. Would you like to join us?” Gendry asks.

Her heart races for a moment. She’s intrigued by this man in front of her, but she came here with Ned, it would be insanely rude to ditch him.

“Your boyfriend can come too,” Anguy pipes up from behind Gendry’s massive shoulders.

“Oh, he’s, he’s not my boyfriend, we’re coworkers,” she says entirely too fast. The smile that breaks out across Gendry’s face makes her blush again.

He leans down so only she can hear him, the smoky leather smell of his cologne washing over her and making her dizzy, “That’s good to hear.” As his breath whispers across her ear a wave of goosebumps erupts across her arms. She looks up at him through her eyelashes, feeling very shy all of a sudden. He smiles at her one more time before turning to walk away. She fights down the urge to call out to him and turns back to Ned.

Over her shoulder she hears Gendry one more time, “If you change your mind we’ll be at Seaworth’s on the waterfront.” She glances back to see him give her a half smile that makes her insides squirm before he turns and walks away. She keeps her eyes on him as he goes, taking in the stretch of his suit jacket over his shoulders, his firm athlete’s ass, and the long stretch of his well muscled legs that his suit pants only highlight.

Ned awkwardly clears his throat.

“Sorry,” she says, “That was weird, right? I just… uh…”

“Yeah,” Ned drags the word out, “he seemed a little… friendly.”

“Uh, sure. Very friendly.”

“Did you want to go? We can if you want to?”

Arya thinks about it for the moment, Gendry’s dizzying blue eyes and enticing smell drift across her mind. The thought of sitting in a dark pub booth with him, his large, warm hand on her knee under the table. She reigns it in before the thought gets too far.

“No, no. Let’s just go. I have some edits to make on a paper when I get home anyway.”

She saves for a single ticket. It takes her over a month to set enough aside. She’s not sitting in the cheap seats this time, she wants to be rinkside where he could see her, to see if there was something there. If he recognized her she would take it as a sign She spent almost half an hour staring at the seat map when she went to buy her ticket before deciding that directly across from the player’s bench was where she needed to be. She prays that he’ll be playing against Oldtown tonight, since he’s fresh off a three game suspension. She puts on some light makeup, throws on her Lightning sweatshirt, and makes her way to the stadium.

The lights dim, the music starts, and she holds her breath as the players make their way onto the ice. She smiles when she sees him suited up in the dark blue Lightning jersey, his eyes piercing even from across the ice. This is going to be a good night. When the announcers call out the opening line-up she chants, “Ice cold! Ice cold!” with the rest of the crowd when his name is called for Left Defenseman.

She doesn’t pay much attention to the game, just to the dark haired man with the blue eyes. She finds herself watching his every move, calculating hits like he does, cheering when he does his job clearing the puck from near the Lightning goal and using his massive frame to keep the Oldtown center at bay.

Two periods pass with the Lightning up 2-1. He’s not even so much as looked up into the stands in that time. Maybe this was a bad idea, she thinks, and she should have gotten a ticket closer to the bench. She could have tried to yell over the glass at him then. But it would have taken her weeks longer to save enough to sit there, and to finagle time in her busy schedule to come.

He makes his way onto the ice again, and she watches as he does what he does best, blocking the other team’s offense from scoring a goal. What no one expected was for the play to shift quickly to the other end of the ice. The puck finds its way in front of his stick and with a practiced flick of his wrist it bounces off an Oldtown defensemen’s skate and into the goal, earning a point for Storm’s End.

She jumps from her seat, screaming with the rest of the crowd as he looks on in shock. It’s not his job to score and she can see the surprise written across his face. His teammates skate to him to congratulate him, and for the first time all night he looks up into the crowd, right into her grey eyes. Their eyes lock and her breath catches in her throat as the noise of the arena fades away. He smiles that half smile around his mouthguard as gloves smack his helmet and back but he doesn’t seem to notice. He makes his way back to the bench, not taking his eyes off her for the rest of the game. She can barely look away to the rest of the game either.

At the end of the game he skates onto the ice, over to the edge where she is waiting to make her own way to the boards. A few kids pound on the glass at him and he responds by slapping into the boards at them. They holler and laugh and she can tell it’s made their night. When the crowds finally thin she makes her way to him and gives him a big smile, he grins back, his mouthguard hanging free and giving her the full effect.

“Seaworth’s?” he yells through the glass to her, and she nods. “Thirty minutes,” he shouts again, taking off his glove and holding up three fingers. She nods again, smiling, and watches him skate off the ice.

Her heart pounds nervously as she stands outside the pub. She’d never been here before but had looked it up after he’d mentioned it at the last game. The owner of the pub had a long history with the Storm’s End hockey team and it wasn’t unusual to find several large, sweaty hockey players there after their games according to the internet. She only wanted to find one large, sweaty hockey player and it looked like she was in luck.

She notices Anguy first, and he gives her a knowing smile as he walks to the door, “Couldn’t resist some Ice Cold Waters?” he says, winking as he pulls the door to the pub open. She resists the urge to check him into the doorframe as he passes her.

“Hey.” She turns to see Gendry, standing behind her, a wide grin on his face as his dark, damp hair curls around his ears, his blue eyes shining in the dim street light.

“Hi,” she says quietly. He stares at her for a long moment before gesturing towards the door. They find the rest of the team crammed into several booths near the back celebrating their win, pitchers of beer and plates of food scattered between the tables. They squeeze in along an empty bench, thighs brushing beneath the table.

He leans in close to her, breath tickling her ear as he quietly says, “I have to ask. How come you didn’t recognize me?”

She turns to look at him, her nose nearly brushing his cheek with how close his face is to hers, “What do you mean?”

“At the first game. You clearly know your shit when it comes to hockey, so I was curious.”

She looks up into his eyes and he smiles at her. The smell of his cologne tickles her nose and she has to stop herself from climbing into his lap right there in front of his team.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like a neanderthal out there on the ice. Sweaty, testosterone fueled, black mouthguard, black eyes, broken noses, eye grease. I barely recognize my brother when he’s geared up and in the moment. You were… definitely not that that night. I was expecting at least some missing teeth or something. Also you looked distractingly nice in a suit, which totally threw me off.”

“I looked nice?”

Arya blushes and nods, leaning in close to him, “Very nice. I couldn’t help but stare at your arse as you walked away.”

Gendry raises a dark brow at her and gives her a very slow once over of what he can see of her on the pub bench next to him, his eyes darkening as he looks her over, mentally supplemented by what he saw as he approached her outside the pub. She’d ditched her Lightning sweatshirt in her car and was wearing a dark top and skinny jeans, a hint of pale skin peeking out from below the hem of her cropped shirt.

“You look nice too,” is all he manages to say, his voice barely a step above a growl.

Arya raises a challenging eyebrow back at him, “Thank you.”

Their attention is called away from each other but the electricity continues to spark between them as their hand brush grabbing for beer and bar snacks. They talk hockey with the team, Arya revealing that she roots for Storm’s End because she lives here but will always be a Winterfell Wolves girl at heart. She can’t help it, the north is in her blood and her brother Robb plays center for the team.

Gendry leans down to murmur in her ear at that, “So what happens when they play here?”

She glances at him from the corner of her eye and drops her hand high on his leg below the table, “I cheer for the Wolves, but I might cheer a bit for you too now.”

“Just me?”

A sly smile creeps across Arya’s face, “Just for you,” she squeezes his leg before removing her hand and deliberately reaches across him to spoon a bite of dip onto a cracker, her shoulder and back brushing his chest as he rumbles quietly and splays a warm hand across her back, a few of his fingers brushing her bare skin as her top shifts with her movement. She settles back and feels a flash of triumph as Gendry doesn’t move his hand.

Anguy catches her eye at one point and winks at her, nodding his head towards Gendry who has barely taken his eyes off her all night. She’d caught a few of his other teammates glancing between the two of them and giving each other knowing smiles and subtle elbows as they leave the two of them in their bubble.

Eventually Arya sees the time as someone’s phone lights up on the table. It was past 11pm and she has work in the morning and a class in the evening. “It’s getting late,” she says with a sigh, “I have to get going. I’ve had a long day and I have an even longer one tomorrow.”

Gendry’s hand briefly strokes her spine before he slides out from the edge of the bench. He reaches a hand down to her, the sparks they’d been feeling all night lighting up as they touch. Gently, he pulls her off the bench and into his space before taking half a step back and staring down at her, not dropping her hand. She squeezes his hand before lacing their fingers together. Turning back to the table she says her good-bye to the team members she’s spent the last few hours with and leads Gendry from the pub.

The street is cool and quiet after the closeness of Seaworth’s. Slowly they walk hand in hand to her car, Arya trying to stretch their remaining time together by digging in her bag for her keys. She’s enjoyed her evening and Gendry’s company and despite her long day tomorrow she isn’t ready for the night to end.

Gendry breaks the quiet, “I’m really glad you were able to come and we got to do this,” he says softly.

Arya sighs, “Me too.”

“Could we… Would you want to see each other again? Without those louts around thinking they’re being subtle?” There’s a hint of doubt in his voice, like he maybe thinks she only came out to the pub to meet the team. It’s adorable that he could possibly think she’d come out for the rest of those idiots and not for the idiot standing in front of her shuffling his feet nervously.

“I’d like that a lot,” she says, with a smile.

“Even if I’m that guy who ‘gets off on it’?” his sharp smile flashes in the light of the street.

Arya groans and covers her face with her free hand, “I’m never going to live that one down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” he says, warmly. He steps closer to her, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him, chasing away the cool, damp air of the Stormland’s night.

She looks up at him, his face is serious as he stares down at her, his blue eyes almost black in the street light. She’s caught in his gaze before her eyes drift down to his lips for just a moment before darting back up. He licks his lips and she wants nothing more than to feel them against her own. Feeling bolder than she ever has she stands on her tip-toes and presses her mouth to his. His arms wrap around her instantly and she runs a hand up his jaw to bury it in the hair at the back of his neck, her other braced on his chest over his racing heart as they kiss like their lives depend on it. Like the other is air and water and all those other life-giving requirements.

She lets out a soft sigh as she pulls away slowly, his mouth chasing hers as she drops back to her feet. Gendry’s arms stay wrapped around her, holding her tight against him as they stare at each other, chests heaving.

“Shit,” he says through panting breaths, and she giggles, “I mean, yeah. That was, yeah.” He nods vaguely, looking shell-shocked. He smiles down at her, a faint blush across his cheeks visible even in the low light.

Arya nods, “I agree. Wow.”

“You sure you have to go?” He keeps smiling at her as she groans and drops her head to his chest.

“Yes. I have work and class tomorrow and I do need to get some sleep tonight. But,” she lets go of him with one hand to dig in her bag again. With a small, triumphant, “Ha!” she pulls her phone out and unlocks it, pulling up the dial screen and hands it to him. He loosens one arm from around her to enter his number in, pressing send and hanging up when he feels his own phone buzz in his pocket. Arya returns her phone to her bag and pulls out the keys that were clipped to the strap on top the whole time. She unlocks her car and moves to step out of his arms. Gendry pulls her in for one final, fiery kiss before letting go of her and opening her car door for her.

“Arya?” he says, just before she closes it.

“Yeah?” she looks back at him, he’s tucked his hands into his pockets, his hair is in disarray from her fingers, and his lips look a little swollen. He’s never going to hear the end of it when he gets back to his teammates.

“I’m really glad you came out tonight.” He smiles one final, brilliant time as she closes the door and starts her car. He stays there on the sidewalk as she pulls out into the street and begins to make her way home. When she gets there she pulls out her phone and opens the most recent call to an unknown number. Pulling up the text box she types, “I’m really glad I came out tonight too”.

#gendrya #gendrya fanfic #meet cute #hockey player gendry #hockey fan arya #convenient platonic plot device ned dayne #I'm recovering from my second major surgery this year and needed something sweet #sweaty hockey playing gendry is what i needed #gendry waters #arya stark #my writing

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