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acapelladitty · 4 months

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Monomania: Part 3

Summary - As the latest victim of Homelander's cruel and obsessive nature, Hughie Campbell finds himself playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with a man who proves just how monstrous a hero can be.

(tw: unhealthy obsession, n-con, manipulation, abusive language/behaviours, forced oral/hj, mild violence)

Parts 1 & 2

"Oi, fuck off, Hughie. There's no way that happened."

Stopping dead in his tracks as he strode through the familiar hallways of Vought HQ, Homelander found himself straining his delicate hearing as he picked up the unmistakably smug and accented voice of William Butcher.

"You really are a fucking gimp." The voice continued, a bellied laugh quickly following the affectionate insult and something in how genuine it sounded sparked a twitch in Homelander's jaw - his stomach roiling with a feeling that a lesser man might call jealousy. Unwilling to contend with the possessive thought for the moment, he straightened his spine and turned the corner, almost walking into the man himself as he rounded the sharp turn.

"William!" Homelander greeted, venom hiding plainly across his tone as his lips stretched into a faux, welcoming grin. "I'm surprised to see you here." His eyes swept past the recognisable glare which William always afforded him to the even taller man standing just behind him - a cruel joy leaping into his chest as he met Hughie's eyes and watched the way that his eyes narrowed, and his hackles raised in an instant.

"And… Hughie, was it? Starlight's little,” he paused, “boyfriend?"

"Aww, you're famous, lad." William countered smoothly, his shoulders shifting to move in front of Hughie's body without thought as he subconsciously stood between the two, taking a moment to glance back at Hughie with a cocked smile. "Look, even the cunts up here know who you are. Remind me to get an autograph on my arse."

Fingers flexing against his gloves, the temptation to snap William’s fucking neck then and there was strong. Not only for the insult, but the way in which he thought he could, even unknowingly, interfere with his ongoing fun sparked a heated rage deep within his chest which surprised even him. Holding back the urge to lash out, Homelander instead settled his weight back on his heels as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, it was a pleasure as always.” Homelander bit out through gritted teeth. “But, places to be, heroic acts to fulfil. See you later, ladies." He smiled, the threat of violence unspoken but always present as he swept past the pair, ensuring to not spare an extra glance in Hughie's direction even as his familiar scent made his nose twitch in anticipation.

William was a wild card in his plans.

He was fond of Hughie, even an idiot could see that. The tight, defensive glare which burned from his skull when Hughie’s life was on the line and his rashness in trying to protect the man wasn’t well hidden. If William suspected anything of his little games then things would grow more complicated than he could be bothered with.

Turning to a new corridor as the two continued to leave, the last snippet of speech which Homelander picked up between the pair was Hughie telling Butcher to hold up in the lobby so he could use the bathroom. At the words, interest peaked in Homelander’s expression as his earlier irritation rose again to prick at his senses.

Perfect.

Oddly enough, Vought did not in fact monitor the bathrooms within the building with anything outside of smoke and carbon monoxide alarms. A fact which made it very easy to slip into the bathroom only a few moments after hearing the door click shut.

As silent as the grave, the small bathroom was empty save for the rhythmic beat of Hughie's heart. Another temptation rose unbidden in his mind, sordid visions of having Hughie on his knees as he swallowed him down making his mouth momentarily dry but again it was too risky to follow through on. Not on home turf. Not with Vought eyes everywhere. There was only so much he could get away with without scandal.

But, like this…

Homelander approached Hughie from behind as he started to fumble with his jeans, his throat humming away at some unknown tune. Hands acting in a flash of movement, his right slipped around to cover Hughie's mouth as his left pushed his lower back forward - pinning him roughly to the wall by the urinal.

A muffled cry of surprise was held in place by his fingers as Hughie's heartrate spiked, rushing his blood around his body in sheer panic as he found himself unable to move.

"Midnight." Homelander growled, enjoying the feeling of power as his fingers pressed into Hughie's spine, knowing that a single squeeze could turn the bones there to dust. "Your apartment. If you're not alone then I'll kill anyone else who's there after having some fun." He paused, tilting his head closer until his nose was practically brushing the thick curls which hung on the back of Hughie's head as he inhaled the woody scent of him deeply.

"And wear something nice, little Hughie. I like effort." Homelander added, allowing his semi-hard bulge to brush against Hughie's hip. "Makes me hard."

And with one final testing sniff of the fear which was beginning to tinge the air, he released his hands and slipped free of the bathroom quicker than the human eye could comprehend.

Zipping from the bathroom to one of the nearby supply closets, Homelander pressed his back gently to the thick wooden door. His cock twitched within his costume, feeling heavy and hard as it remained trapped by the thick fabric, and he rolled the palm of his heel across it, teasing himself with a sharp exhale.

Oh, yes.

He could wait until midnight.

x-x-x-x-x

As the clock ticked down, Homelander couldn't deny the genuine excitement that nipped at his senses. Tonight, he would take his little game to the next level and finally get what he really wanted. The foreplay was all fun but his little interaction with Hughie in the bathroom had only solidified his determination and tonight would prove that Hughie was the right choice. Someone who could give him what he needed.

Patting his pocket to ensure that his planned surprise was safely stowed away, fantasy ruled his thoughts as he took off on the short trip to Hughie's apartment. Images of Hughie, his blazing eyes piercing his own as he wrapped those long legs around his waist, roiled within his mind. Those thin fingers squeezing at his throat as growls, bestial as fuck, slipped free of his curled lips. Hatred and fear. Adrenaline thick in the air. His cock slipping between Hughie's lips as he stared down at him.

Groaning as his feet landed on the balcony once more, Homelander was already breathless, and he took a moment to collect himself before slipping through the door. Immediately, he sensed Hughie and followed his heartbeat to find him sitting on one of the shitty couches which littered his cheaply furnished living room.

Lips splitting into a grin, Homelander took in the dark t-shirt and jeans which housed Hughie’s delightfully lanky frame with a giddy joy.

"Low effort. Wow." He popped his lips on the final word. “Really pulled out all the stops for me.”

"Fuck you." A simple reply as Hughie stood to his full, impressive height - the tension across his shoulders was unmissable. "And fuck whatever this is. But you won't hurt anyone else."

"I don't want to hurt anyone else." Homelander lied.

"Just me. Is that it? Some kind of fucked up punishment for Annie or Butcher just because you can't get to them instead?" Thoughts running away with him, Hughie's voice raised an octave as he quickly grew defensive at his continued confusion with his own predicament. "I won't hurt them. Annie. Butcher. Whatever sick shit you're planning. I won't. You'd be better killing me now."

"It's you I want, little Hughie. And as a show of," Homelander ruffled his shoulders until a satisfying pop went through his neck, "good will for our new arrangement, I even brought you this."

Throwing the item in his pocket over to Hughie's chest, he watched as Hughie caught it and brought it to eye level in the dim lighting before continuing.

"Take it."

Gazing down at the vial of compound v with obvious uncertainty, Hughie could only manage out a soft. "What? Why?"

"Take. It."

"Why?"

"You don't want to find out what'll happen if you don't." Homelander smiled, a strained smirk which did nothing to hide his irritation at the delay. "Trust me, little Hughie, you'll need your strength if you want to stand a chance against me. Take it and then you can get me. You can have me."

That did it, and a desperate determination entered Hughie's features as he slammed the small vial of liquid back. It was a determination which made Homelander's gut clench as he sadistically looked forward to stripping it away from him piece by sorry piece.

Arousal aside, it was interesting to watch a human react to the compound. Hughie's heartbeat picked up in an instant, pacing so quickly that Homelander watched with open fascination as his limbs trembled and a thin sheen of sweat erupted on his forehead. His movements even became quicker, fingers clenching and unleashing so quickly that it would be difficult for normal eyes to pick them up.

Little Hughie was all juiced up and Homelander held back a grunt as something unexpected joined the growing scent of sweat and adrenaline in the air.

Arousal.

Arousal which was definitely not his own.

In an instant and clearly hoping to catch him off-guard, Hughie lunged for him and Homelander laughed breathily as the sudden force knocked them both to the floor in a pile of thrashing limbs. Hughie's carpets were in rough shape, the stink of some cheap cleaning power making Homelander's noise twitch but he ignored it in favour of focusing on the welcomed heat which now pinned him to the floor.

Hughie's movements were a mess, the fresh power coursing through his veins making him jerky and uncontrolled. Almost animalistic in his unrestrained aggression as he straddled Homelander's waist.

"See. Now you have me. What next?" Homelander asked, his hips rolling despite himself as he ground himself into Hughie’s ass.

"Going to," Hughie panted and his fingers looped around Homelander's neck, "kill you."

"Really?" Homelander tutted, one hand wrapping around Hughie's hands to prevent any actual strangulation while the other dropped to Hughie's hip, fingers squeezing at the flesh there roughly enough to ensure some wicked bruising. "Do you think that's what's going to happen here?"

"Fuck. You." Hughie growled, some strands of his dark hair falling over his forehead with the effort of his movements.

"Maybe." Eyes dilating at the prospect, Homelander gave a mocking chuckle as he considered it. "But not tonight, little Hughie. Tonight, you're going to touch me."

"You're disgusting."

"And if you don't then I'll have to find someone else to do it. Maybe sweet Annie. I hear she's good with her mouth."

Pain, sharp and delicious, ricocheted through his jaw as Hughie's fist connected with his face. The sensation sparked a bloodlust which made his cock twitch and his tongue flick against his slack lips as he took in Hughie's furious gaze. The hand which had been pressing into Hughie's hips dropped, instead grasping messily at the seam of his costume as he struggled to pull the fabric down to free his cock.

Feeling the struggle as his gaze dipped to watch, revulsion twisted Hughie's features but with it came a hateful acceptance as he released Homelander's neck and instead slipped his ass back far enough to allow Homelander to slide his costume down far enough to allow his cock to spring free – the length immediately jutting proudly as it brushed his lower stomach.

Silence reigned for a moment, awaiting the break that would be the point of no return and Homelander gnashed his teeth impatiently as he snapped his hand around Hughie's wrist, forcing his hand onto his aching cock. The relief was immediate as the heat from Hughie's palm seemed to scorch the sensitive skin of his cock, giving him something concrete and cruel to focus on as his other hand slipped around Hughie's thigh, fingers digging in to his jeans.

Hughie's grip tightened painfully and Homelander unleashed a strangled gasped as Hughie’s fingers moved almost experimentally across his length - the bottom of his fist brushing the smattering of blonde pubic hair which lined the base of his cock.

"You're disgusting." Hughie spat, his anger and humiliation at being forced to pleasure a man he saw as a monster making his eyes flash and teeth bare themselves like an animal. "And this is fucked. It’s sick."

"But you're so good at it." Homelander countered with a throaty purr as his hips helped to thrust his cock into the hand jerking him off. "Look at how good you're doing it. Like you were made t-"

"You're a real fucking monster and I want to hear you admit it."

"Yeah, I'm a monster." Homelander gasped out, the words garbled and unclear as his breath caught in his throat due to Hughie's fingers brushing the ultra-sensitive ridge where his cockhead met the shaft. Hughie’s hand was dry and rough, almost irritating in how little it cared for his pleasure, and that dismissal made his head feel light as he allowed the rawness of the sensation to claw across his aching groin.

As though sensing his enjoyment, Hughie released his cock long enough to land a rough punch to his jaw, the blow forcing his head to the side once more as colour bloomed high in his cheeks at the rough contact.

"Say it right.”

"I'm a monster."

This time, the words were more of a whine as Homelander canted his hips against Hughie's ass - wordlessly begging for his hand again. True disgust rolled across Hughie's face as he reluctantly obliged, his fingers dropping to Homelander's cock once more to catch his aching length in a grip that would have been unbearably painful for a regular man.

"You're pathetic and cruel." Hughie continued, every snapped word matched by his hand as he twisted his wrist with each velvety jerk. "You're fucking sick. Insane."

Pinned to the floor and so fucking hard that he felt his cock was going to explode, Homelander could only whimper out weak agreements as his fingers clawed at Hughie's shoulders.

Pathetic.

Cruel.

Monster.

"Yes." Homelander agreed, repeating the word like a mantra as he chased his release. The tight band of arousal in his groin felt ready to snap, and his blurred eyes met Hughie's as he grunted out his pleasure.

There, buried beneath the hatred and disgust, lay a twisted satisfaction which made his balls tighten and his cock spasm; thin ropes of his release coating both his cock and the hand which continued to pump him through his orgasm. Hughie’s rough grip refused to relent, as though determined to force him to feel every touch and it prolonged the obscene line of pleasure and pain which his spasming cock was enduring.

Hughie liked hurting him.

Liked hitting him and humiliating him.

Little Hughie enjoyed hurting him in a way that he understood far too well and that was enough for him to know he had made the right choice.

His.

Distracted as he were, Homelander almost didn't notice when Hughie released his cock until thin fingers were pushing at his lips with a brutal insistence. Drained from his orgasm, he opened his mouth as prompted and was immediately met with the taste of his own release as Hughie thrust his cum-soaked fingers deeply into his mouth.

It was unexpected and so fucking hot that Homelander couldn't stop his tongue from wrapping around the thin fingers as the salty tang of his mess clouded his senses further. Turned out Hughie had more in him that he could have suspected, and he played his part well as his rage and humiliation channelled into a very decent handjob.

Maybe he did deserve a reward and a cruel idea alit in Homelander's mind, something he suspected would solidify Hughie as his own and put an end to any dipshit ideas that he had any control between them.

Knocking Hughie to his back with one swift push, Homelander didn't give him a moment to breathe before his shaky hands were fumbling messily at Hughie's jeans until he had enough purchase to pull Hughie's cock free of his boxers.

A part of Homelander, the part that was still firmly rooted in the sickness of reality, knew that Hughie was only hard because of the adrenaline of the compound v; his cock responding to the fact that his heart was attempting to beat itself out of his chest. But an even deeper part of him understood that the darkness he saw reflected in Hughie was truly relishing the chance to punish him, to make him suffer for his 'wrongs', and that part of him would always make sure that he was ready to hurt him in the way that he wanted.

Fuck, he needed to taste him.

The saltiness of his own release was still harsh against his tongue and the pure need to wash it away with something even more twisted gnawed at his chest. It was too difficult to ignore, not that he tried, and he slid his body down Hughie's in an almost serpentine motion until he was able to kneel with his face coming to a halt between Hughie's outstretched legs.

Keeping a grip on Hughie's cock, Homelander marvelled for a moment at how long is felt in his palm. Longer than his own for sure but not quite as thick, and where his cock was ringed by a halo of pristine golden pubes, Hughie opted for a more closely shaven look with his pubic hair being dark and stubbled across the base of his cock.

"N-no!" Hughie stuttered, bravado fleeing him as he looked down his own body and realised what was going to happen. The horror washing across his face was as pretty as a picture and Homelander tilted his head to take it in better. "This isn't- you can't fucking do that."

"Can't? I can do anything I want. I'm the fucking Homelander."

And with that, Homelander strengthened his grip on Hughie's cock as he closed his lips over the head, his tongue quickly darting forward to wrap around and taste the new experience while his eyes marvelled at the aroused nausea which crossed Hughie’s features at the explicit act he was being made to endure.

Lacking experience, Homelander knew that his head skills were a mess as he tried to imitate the many people who had blown him over the years. His hand pumped gently across the base of Hughie's length, conscious of his vast strength, as his lips sucked at the head - knowing how sensitive his own was and how it was likely that Hughie would be the same.

A sharp pain in his scalp made him grunt as Hughie's fingers tugged at his hair, weakly attempting to pull him free of his cock as a series of gasping pleas and refusals broke free of his stuttering lips.

"What's that, little Hughie? Speak up. Kinda busy down here." Homelander darted his eyes between Hughie's face and the cock which now lay only an inch from his lips, coated by his own saliva and wickedly hard despite its owners’ protestations.

"Please, don't. Don't make me do it."

"I'm not making you do anything. I mean, look what you did for me. I'm just returning the favour. If you don't like me doing it then-"

Homelander’s gloved finger trailed along the tip of Hughie's cock, gathering a little of the pre-cum which was leaking from his tip. Bringing it to his lips, he made a loud popping noise with his finger as he licked it up with a cruel smile.

"-why the fuck are you as wet as a slut?

"You fucker!" Hughie hissed, his eyes glistening with a frustrated moisture as his body betrayed him. "Bastard! You knew what the compound v would do! You fucking knew! This isn't- I don't want this!"

Homelander hummed in quiet disagreement, sucking Hughie's cock between his lips once more as he kept him pinned to the floor by his hips. The scent of Hughie, the natural musk which seemed to haunt the man, invaded his senses and he sighed out in satisfaction as Hughie's cock gave a very definite twitch in his mouth and he knew that the inevitable was approaching.

With a strangled noise, a mild sob which could easily be mistaken for a groan, Hughie came and victory clawed around Homelander's heart as his unwanted release flooded his mouth. Ropes of cum coated his tongue and he swallowed them down greedily, making a show of his win by refusing to let up on his torments - continuing to lick and tease away at Hughie's cock until his struggles grew more desperate as overstimulation quickly set in.

Taking pity on his defeated prey, Homelander released him. In a few sharp movements, Hughie was gone from him in a flash - his body backing off across the carpet until his back struck the nearby wall. His softening cock hung free of his jeans, the tip of it glistening with his release and Homelander's spit and the expression on his face was so beautifully broken that Homelander remained on his stomach for a moment to admire it.

"Not so 'little' Hughie then." Homelander purred, sadistic joy at how perfectly his evening had gone making him chatty. "If I'd know that then maybe I would have set us up quicker than this. I think I'll blame William and his pointless vendetta."

"Leave-" Hughie muttered out, his voice hollowed, "just leave me alone."

Rising to his knees, Homelander followed Hughie's path towards the wall as he crawled towards him, only coming to a pause right in front of his prone frame. From here, the visible tremble of Hughie’s limbs as his arms wrapped around his knees was clear and Homelander almost felt a tendril of pity for him.

"Can't. Sorry." Homelander confessed, not truly feeling very sorry at all. "But I think we both know you're not mad at me. Nope. You're pissed that you came and that you liked making me come."

Whatever protests Hughie had went killed in the crib by Homelander placing one gloved finger over his lips.

"I saw it and if you lie it'll just make me angry."

"Why the compound v?" Hughie asked, the question catching Homelander off guard as his bleary eyes caught his own. "Why bother? It doesn't make a difference. Didn’t work."

"Despite what you think, little Hughie, I don't want you to break too easily. The compound v keeps things,” he hesitated to think of the best word to use, “interesting."

"Why me?"

His cock softened and sated, Homelander took a moment to tuck it away back into his costume as he fixed himself up fully.

"Because I can." Was his easy reply as he stood to his feet and ruffled his hand in Hughie's hair like stroking a well-behaved pup. "And because you've been a pain in my ass for too long. C'mon little Hughie, don’t be so glum, it'll be a ride and I'll always make sure that you get yours as much as I get mine."

That thought, more than anything else, seemed to be the straw that broke the camels’ back as a dry retch caught in the back of Hughie's throat and his unfocused eyes dropped to the floor.

Moving towards the kitchen to return to his easy escape route on the balcony, Homelander stopped long enough to throw one last dig at his new favourite toy.

"And remember, not a word to anyone about our little bouts of fun. I don’t share my things well."

With that, Homelander took off once more, diving into the night sky with a satisfied smile which those who knew him best shudder to understand as being one born of sadistic delight.

#just not a nice lad #the boys #homelander x hughie #homelander #hughie campbell #hughie x homelander #the boys amazon #anthony starr #jack quaid #william butcher #billy butcher

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batsplat · 3 days

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sometimes casey throws a like on posts about valentino's wins on four wheels, got me wondering how he really feels about vale's retirement life. back in the twilight of vale's career, casey was kinda sad seeing vale content with just hitting top five. but end of last year, he said he's happy for vale's new life vibe. (https://www.tumblr.com/kwisatzworld/735598710184165376/casey-stoner-talks-about-valentino-rossi-in-an)

but man, they're like poles... casey's rebuilding his storm-hit home on the gold coast, swinging golf clubs. meanwhile, valentino's still going full throttle—aside from a vacay in ibiza, dude's been all over the map this year with car races, bike races, tests, and coaching at his academy.

I'm gonna be honest, I have zero awareness of what any of these men do on social media... don't really keep up with them post-retirement in general unless they're literally at the races, giving interviews about their careers and whatnot. so whenever someone on here mentions something like this it's very... I didn't know that but it sure is interesting!! very sweet of casey lol (also link to the gifs)

though, quick note, I wouldn't say valentino was content back in the day with just being in the top five (or lower) - it's just the idea of stopping for a long time felt worse than carrying on. from that same giornale interview, -

And what is it like to live with the idea of leaving? "It's difficult to accept. I didn't give up until the end. But you understand that at forty you no longer have those homicidal instincts that you had when you were twenty-five. But it was hard. At a certain point in my career, about ten years ago, I asked myself: do I stop when I'm on the crest of a wave and retire as a world champion, or do I race until I can't stand it anymore?" Answer? "I race until I can't stand it anymore. And so I did."

it's something he had to decide for himself... of course, both marc and casey have said something along the lines of how they could never have done that themselves, how for them it's only worth it if they're winning. and, y'know, there is something about that for valentino... for all that obviously he is obsessed with winning and desperately wants to do so... he really doesn't just thrive in a fight - he needs it. and it's so interesting, in a way, when you think about just how early in his career he was flirting with the idea of walking away... and then think about how long he ended up sticking around. sure, he was always pretty clear that he would have just done something else racing-related like f1 rather than retire, but still! and in a way, it's probably the fact that he started losing that made him so determined to stick around... the malaise was at its strongest whenever he was winning, or rather, winning too easily... a motogp without valentino might have made it likelier that casey would stick around for longer, whereas a motogp with casey made it less likely that valentino would leave

but yes, casey did say motogp would be better with valentino close to the top:

casey's opinions on what counts as 'good racing' are a whole other thing I'm not going to get into right now, but, I don't know! it's fun! it's fun that casey looked at the 2013-18 period and then what came after that and went 'yeah it'd be better if valentino were involved in this'! "battling it out with these guys" - not even casey stoner is immune to the good old fashioned joys of watching valentino getting himself involved in a dogfight! very compelling of him. I don't think it's just lip service either, not least since it's not like casey is massively inclined to shoot random compliments in valentino's direction (yes, even during valentino's swansong casey did have some rather less friendly hot takes he needed to get off his chest). and... y'know, before the feud really got going casey did talk about how much he'd enjoyed watching valentino, went out with his mates to observe valentino in all his sessions and all that... given you're generally not watching valentino oohing and aahing about him hooking together a quali lap, he must have also enjoyed watching valentino race! happens to the best of us I fear

a persistent problem for a lot of valentino's rivals is how closely associated valentino has become with the very idea of motogp, which, y'know, is the thing they've dedicated their entire lives to. now, for casey this is particularly gnarly and complicated and painful because he has a severely strained relationship with the whole sport, in some ways that come back to valentino and in some ways that go beyond him. and post-retirement, it's not like casey has completely eschewed that active connection to the sport - he was a test rider, he wanted to race again in 2015 as a replacement for dani, he's worked as a rider coach. so again *wiggles hand* complicated. fundamentally though, yes, two very different outlooks. valentino was desperate to race in motogp until he couldn't any more. whereas casey? he's not even missed the racing itself:

can you imagine something more foreign to valentino than this... who loves nothing more than the thrill of the hunt, of the chase, of the kill... that is not a man who was showing up every weekend for the qualifying sessions. it's a way in which they could not be more different - and of course that's further reflected in what they've chosen to do with their time since retirement. valentino is so eternally restless, casey needed to ground himself again. valentino will not stop racing for as long as is physically possible, whereas casey is spending his days fishing... or swinging golf clubs apparently. wait a minute, you say his house was destroyed? by a tornado? ah

anyhow, that's the bit I love about them (not the tornado bit)... how they're both extremely similar and extremely different at the same time - that's the kind of tension through which the narrative juices flow... they're similar in ways you kind of have to be if you want to be very good at a sport, and very good in that sport specifically. in their commitment, their will, their passion for what they do. their competitive instincts, their need to win. how interested they are in preserving the 'soul' of their sport, how they were both firmly on the anti-electronics train for years and years... valentino being told about casey's comments in 2013 pressers and being like 'yeah I'm with him on this'... casey saying in 2018 that valentino is, and I quote, "like me: if it weren't for all these electronics that manage the bike, if the power was controlled only by the rider's right wrist, rossi would still be number one on the track". by the way, and this has absolutely zero relevance to this post, I do need to bring up this comment from the same interview because it makes me laugh:

so real, casey. I wanted drama too. anyway, that comment casey made about the 'stunning blood red' ducati being contaminated by luminous yellow or whatever - obviously in context it was anti-valentino, but it was also revealing that this is even something he cares about because he loves this sport... he wants it to remain true to itself... he regrets not having had the chance to ride the 500cc bikes that valentino was the last guy to be able to win a title on, which obviously valentino is also insanely proud of. there's little things that stand out when you cross-read their autobiographies - like for instance the deep preoccupation with the 'bike or rider' question, partly because they'd both been accused of owing their achievements to something else other than their actual ability (and of course, because they're funny like that, they do both absolutely do this to each other) (also to some extent literally every champion gets put through this, they sure do have a lot of opinions about it though). their thoughts on the importance of being honest to yourself and being honest about what you owe your success to... about not deluding yourself, of not blaming the bike when you are the one to make an error... there's plenty of interesting overlap in what they write y'know

they are both incredibly capable of holding grudges, they are both petty to a fault and will remember any offence you committed even if it was about seven years ago (genuinely casey might be even worse on this metric). and they use this to motivate themselves... they are both so so determined to prove people wrong. if they think you've wronged them, they openly admit that they use that as fuel to spur themselves on. it's the power of spite - yamaha rejected casey so he wanted to show them, nobody thought valentino could make the yamaha switch work so he wanted to rub it in honda's faces. they love to get even. they can be quite suspicious of others to the point of paranoia; there's a world in which they combine their powers to be extremely accomplished conspiracy theorists. they both have a temper - it's easier to get casey angry, but valentino is downright vicious when effectively provoked. plus, and this bit cannot be stressed enough, they are both insane. different flavours of insane, but, still, insane. if you spend enough time thinking about laguna 2008, this kind of becomes one of the key takeaways - because, okay, valentino's riding was. eh. but casey's riding? also very! eh! valentino started it but casey joined in! casey always talked about how much that race changed for him, how it taught him to be more selfish, to just race for himself... and even if it made him feel bad, the thing about casey is that he was willing to do that

but at the same time, of course they're both very different, in all the deeply obvious ways. their respective relationships to publicity, to media, to fame - valentino does struggle with it, does hate it a lot of the time, but at the end of the day he still shines in the spotlight and is an incredibly effective communicator. he's willing to play the game a lot more than casey is... although casey can play it too, if in a different way, when valentino forces him into it. casey's still willing to play it now, which is why you hear him constantly offering his commentary on that rivalry - he's selling a story, a narrative that he may genuinely believe in but that also is of course supposed to flatter him. at the end of the day, however, casey doesn't quite get why all of this has to be such a big part of the sport, why it's necessary to even have anything apart from the racing... whereas valentino has always understood why all the other stuff exists and why it's worth engaging with the public-facing side of the sport, even when he hasn't liked it

valentino loves the sport in its entirety, immediately embraced the entire circus of the paddock and found it endlessly exciting and exhilarating from the very first moment, whereas casey has often wished he could escape all parts of the sport that aren't the racing itself. valentino is someone who has spoken at length about the bonds of friendship with his team and how important they are to him, whereas casey is a man who has said his only friend in the paddock is his wife. the very strong but different connections they both have to their place of origin, and how meaningful those are to both of them, how important it is to their sense of identity... somewhere they'll always come back to. and of course there's a ruthlessness to valentino that is mostly alien to casey, if not entirely. valentino relishes the battle, whereas casey would prefer to avoid it. there are things valentino is ready to do, lines he's ready to cross, where casey doesn't even understand why you would do any of that. valentino loves having... if not an enemy, then certainly a target - and while casey is hardly a stranger to the motivating power of spite, he is more or less happy to complete his track times on an empty bit of asphalt. relatedly, he also wishes to believe that he is completely immune to any kind of psychological tactics... and sometimes he's more right than he's given credit for and sometimes he's wrong. casey is a lot more preoccupied with this rivalry than valentino is - and of course it has a far more defining role within his career than vice versa. casey walked away so much sooner than valentino did because he had grown estranged from the sport he had so loved. whereas valentino never stopped loving it, even when it hurt him, even when it could have killed him... and he never will stop loving it

this post is going to take a bit of a left field turn, sorry. but there's just something about. idk. athletes trapped in a rivalry that's so intense and so meaningful for at least one half, but that's also so about the kind of... gulf between them, the mutual lack of comprehension, where it feels like the divide is so big it might be unbridgeable... anyway, it always makes me think of a specific bit of andre agassi's autobiography where he talks about his rivalry with pete sampras. so here:

Walking up to the gate, who should I see but Pete. As always, Pete. He looks as if he's done nothing for the last month but practise, and when he wasn't practising, he was lying on a cot in a bare cell, thinking about beating me. He's rested, focused, wholly undistracted. I've always thought the differences between Pete and me were overblown by sportswriters. It seemed too convenient, too important for fans, and Nike, and the game, that Pete and I be polar opposites, the Yankees and Red Sox of tennis. The game's best server versus its best returner. The diffident Californian versus the brash Las Vegan. It all seemed like horseshit. Or, to use Pete's favorite word, nonsense. But at this moment, making small talk at the gate, the gap between us appears genuinely, frighteningly wide, like the gap between good and bad. I've often told Brad that tennis plays too big a part in Pete's life, and not a big enough part in mine, but Pete seems to have the proportions about right. Tennis is his job, and he does it with brio and dedication, while all my talk of maintaining a life outside tennis seems like just that - talk. Just a pretty way of rationalizing all my distractions. For the first time since I've known him - including the times he's beaten my brains out - I envy Pete's dullness. I wish I could emulate his spectacular lack of inspiration, and his peculiar lack of need for inspiration.

obviously the specific details of the rivalry are very different, and the two rivalries don't map neatly onto each other at all. but I don't know, it's always felt a good way of summing up that! disconnect!! the whole world might want you to be distinct from your rival for narrative purposes and you're aware of how artificial the whole thing is... but sometimes it can still be true... casey's always talking about how he never got obsessed with his rivals, how he always treated them all the same, how it was all just externally imposed onto him... which, okay, we could perhaps question the supposed lack of obsession, but it still comes back to how you don't want it to just be about you and that other guy. always you and them, them and you - and maybe you can't actually escape it because it's the truth... it's your legacy, it's fundamentally interwoven into the fabric of your career, it's why you will never truly free yourself from that narrative. "the gap between us appears genuinely, frighteningly wide, like the gap between good and bad"... you're bound together in your shared passion for this sport, but your biggest rival is also somebody who you feel like you'll never truly understand

casey may feel alienated from valentino and in doing so feel alienated from the very sport itself. whereas for valentino, casey was just what he needed. having casey was something motivating, something exciting for valentino - however annoying he found that man, he always needs something to inspire him and for a while there that something was casey. it's a rivalry that wore away at casey while at the same time it lit a fire within valentino... the 'cordial' mutual hatred they exhibited towards each other, wrapped up in this sense of mutual estrangement, it weighed more heavily on one of them than it did on the other... all these similarities between the two characters that exist alongside the violence of the contrast between them. that underlying and inescapable sense of alienation. on some level, they were always perfectly clear on who the other man was when they were fighting each other - and tailored their approach to the rivalry accordingly. but knowing doesn't quite equal empathy, it's not the same as understanding, and the distance between the pair of them inevitably remained. hey, maybe a dinner will fix it, maybe casey can explain where he was coming from to valentino and get the chance to interrogate valentino on the same. because that's what casey's expressing there, right, when he's talking about telling valentino his 'challenges' from his 'point of view'... it's not even as much about understanding as much as it is about being understood. it's about getting valentino to comprehend casey's side of things. maybe even getting valentino to care. of course, more likely than not, the dinner hasn't happened and will never happen. more likely than not, that gap will remain unbridgeable. perhaps it's too much to ask for, to ever truly know your foil. perhaps it's even more impossible to expect to be known

#valentino rossi #casey stoner #//#vr46 #cs27 #i'm sorry i think this wasn't actually really a response to the ask i got. the ask button is more like press here and get a rant #i just don't have time to really write a proper well-sourced casey essay because again i'd need to do laguna first #but i do always have thoughts about them. anyway. it's nice casey likes the old man's dumb car racing #i do think casey might have complicated feelings about the post retirement activities because he has complicated feelings about vale....#but also kinda. again not necessarily HATING valentino As A Guy... at a certain point he's sort of separated that out in his head I reckon #the agassi stoner comparison is so incredibly niche territory because instinctively you'd think it's the other way round but i'm telling u #“the only respite is fantasizing about retirement” “I hate tennis more than ever - but I hate myself more”#“apparently he doesn't find tennis as lonely as I do”#“I look up at the sky and fantasize about flying away. since I can't fly away at least this tennis ball can fly away. be free little ball”#obviously “I envy pete's dullness” very much goes the other way lmaoooooo still one of my all time fave sports autobiography lines #'agassi stoner comparison is so incredibly niche territory' I say as if the lads are constantly delving into the sampras stoner parallels #really reinventing the parallels to nineties tennis rivalries market here adding my own spin to this well established genre

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