bicameral caseydovi snippet that I haven’t decided what to do with yet:
Casey rubs his hands together, marvels idly at this strange alchemy — the warmth that can be generated by rubbing two cold things together.
Beside him, he’s aware of Dovi mirroring the gesture.
There’s a chill in the air, a bracing kind of cold, the kind that could strip paint from metal. He doesn’t need to see his reflection to know that his cheeks will be a blotchy red. There’s an abrasiveness to each lungful of icy air. Punishing. Casey moved to a country where he didn’t speak a lick of the language at the age of seventeen, he’s familiar with that feeling.
Dovi blows a puff of warm air on his hands.
“I’m two for two on relationships going down in flames,” Casey points out abruptly.
He can feel Dovi’s sideways glance, how it lingers as he studies Casey.
Eventually, Dovi shrugs, unfazed, “that just means that you’ll have to catch a break at some point, right?”
Casey’s laugh, short and sharp, escapes his chest like a puncture, “yeah I guess, that’s one way to look at it.”
His mouth is dry, it makes each inhale and exhale all the more punishing. He’s used to it now, after twenty odd years living here. The last few winters in Rome have all been harsh dry ones.
The lawyer handling his divorce had asked Casey if he wanted a copy of the papers in English, in addition to the Italian that it would be filed with the court in, it hadn’t even occurred to Casey to ask. Twenty years is a long time to call a place a temporary home. The suitcase he brought with him to Italy at seventeen years old is still under his bed, his ex-husband used to tease him about holding onto it even though the handle was loose and one of the wheels was broken.
But Casey has always been like that. His mother had cupped his cheeks with her chapped, work-rough hands on his wedding day, the exact same way she did when he only came up to her hip.
My little Casey, after all this time you still haven’t changed a bit, his mother had murmured softly, you move slowly until you don’t. Her palms were dry and cracked against his pink cheeks.
Do any of the other riders know that corporatefucktoy au fermin and pedro were childhood friends?
first of all I am so behind on corporate fucktoy au I am SORRY
secondly hmmmmmmm from a conflicts of interest perspective, if the riders knew the person dorna had hired to fuck them was friends with one of the riders I think they would question the impartiality? whether information revealed (even details about their physical condition) during “sessions” was being used to help another rider? idk I just think that that’s a whole risk that dorna wouldn’t knowingly take. ergo I reckon Pedro and Fermin keep it to themselves (and they both have ample reason to want to keep that information locked down anyway).
there’s probably some question on a form, related to conflicts of interest, and in brackets do you have an existing relationship with a member of a team and Fermin reasons that they haven’t spoken in years and chooses to be willfully blind and ticks NO.
anyway people WOULD find out eventually and that’s half the fun !
you have to be careful reading too many things that are good/smart/well-written bc then you encounter something that isnt and you get confused like ? why didnt they just make this good ? were they stupid
whoop buttplug does unfortunately sound like a dubious insanely expensive medical items these dudes would use
no literally, we joke but if we told these freaks that there was precious additional data they could obtain to boost their performance and all they had to do was plug a little usb into their butts……… I do think most of them would jump at the opportunity. and knowing how they move, even if the technology was largely untested and unsubstantiated by science this would not deter them
