#DAT tournament

[disjointed-ass-tournament]

Suggestion chamber instructions:

You may submit any character from any media you like, just make sure to specify the name and franchise.

You can submit OCs, but take have the following handicaps in mind:

Every information provided about the OC will be taken as literally as possible.

Resulting contestant will be based only on what's given in the suggestion. The rest of the information will just be assumed to be the blandest possibility available.

Any OC too powerful will be given drawbacks automatically.

And that would be about it, see you when the slots are filled.

[trulyhblue]

Communication

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Dutch! Reader Blurb

Warnings: fluff, REALLY bad translated Dutch, language barrier.

Masterlist

___________________

Moving from your childhood club AFC Ajax was the hardest change of your life, but the easiest choice of your career.

You signed your first professional contract with them when you were fifteen, making your club debut in the same year. After six months of fitting into the squad, and having the opportunity to play in the Champions League as a substitute, you were asked to play for your first international camp against New Zealand, where you came away with a 2-1 win. From then, you have continued to be chosen for the National Team’s 23-player squad, continuously representing them as both a starter and a sub.

You were known for your agility, speed, and footwork, both on the ball and against both attacking and defending players. Being a midfielder, your job to maintain possession and create chances felt like a breeze to you, and your pure, sheer talent landed you with many of the most assists for the past three years.

Despite the friends you made at Ajax, you knew that opportunities to strengthen your player profile and widen your skills across the world were a dream of yours. You were a huge fan of Arsenal growing up, your parents taking you to games when they could.

When the opportunity arose to represent your country at the 2023 Women’s World Cup, you don't remember doing anything but crying for the days following your selection. You played your heart out that whole tournament. And while you didn't make it to the Semis, you walked away with a once-in-a-lifetime experience, with clubs worldwide wanting you as a part of their team.

Moving to Arsenal was a no-brainer. Not only were you a massive fan of the name itself, but they were among the best players in the world. You knew Victoria and Viv from the Oranje Leeuwinnens, and you had been told that you’d move in with Vic for the first couple of months upon your arrival, so the weight of the move felt lighter than many anticipated. You were roommates with Vic during Camps. But, in contrast to your Netherlands teammates, you didn't know an inch of English.

Well, other than the obvious words like Hello, Good Morning, and Goodbye, you were hopeless.

So, when you arrived on your first day of training alongside Victoria, you couldn't help but cringe at what was about to unfold.

“Ze weten dat je geen Engels spreekt, y/n.” They know you don't speak English. She spoke, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into her chest. “Ze zijn allemaal erg aardig.” They are all very nice.

You didn't reply, choosing to keep your arm around Victoria’s waist, your eyes filtering over each of the girls.

“Ah, hier is ze!” Ah, here she is. Viv said, walking out from beside Beth Mead, jogging towards you, eloping you into a crushing hug.

“Ik heb je gemist, y/n, hoe gaat het met je?” I’ve missed you, y/n. How have you been? She asked, holding onto your shoulders as she kissed the top of your head. The London chill meant that you were wearing a black long-sleeve under your shirt, its hem being detained in your hands. The chill of the air nipped your cheeks. The Netherlands were cold, but so was London.

“Hetzelfde. Ik ben goed.” Same. I'm good. You let out meekly, noticing a bouncy Beth Mead waddle over to the three of you, holding her hand out for you to shake. You had played against Beth before, and of course, you knew her from Viv, so you made sure to look her in the eye when you shook her hand.

“Hi!” She sounded cheerfully, keeping a ball at her feet. “I’m Beth!”

“Y/n.” You replied, trying to reciprocate her delight with a small smile. “I'm Y/n.”

Your eyes widened slightly when a ball came flying at the four of you, causing you all to yelp out and duck before it hit anyone. Everyone looked in the direction the ball had come from, a strong, Irish and Australian accent on cue to yell out.

“Sorry!” The duo cringed, running over to retrieve the ball with a grimace.

“Katie kicked it.” The Australian one said, but you didn't understand. You saw the pained expression on her face, and how the Irish woman, who you knew as Katie, glared at her in shock.

“It was a joint effort, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, fuck off, no it wasn't—”

“Ze vechten.” They’re fighting. Victoria muttered to you, making you laugh.

“Ik dacht.” I figured.

The two girls were silenced after another woman came marching up to the growing group, looking at you with a stern expression before softening the crease between her eyebrows. You knew she was Kim Little by her motherly stare.

Next to her was Jennifer Beattie, an Arsenal Defender. She had her arms crossed around her chest, shaking her head in false disapproval before strolling over to you, calling out to Jonas, whom you had met when you discussed your contract.

You felt like crawling into a hole and dying, the whole occasion of being introduced to everyone made your skin crawl. Of course, no one necessarily made you feel out of place, but you refused to let Victoria’s arm go throughout the whole ordeal. You knew most of the players due to their prominence in women’s football. Most of these women set the scene for how the sport is seen today, and the mere thought of them knowing who you were was surreal.

The two girls that were arguing before, Caitlin Foord and Katie McCabe were the first to come up to you. Victoria told you they were sorry, and you shook your head and brushed the apology off, not really knowing how to say the right words in English.

Steph Catley and Leah Williamson came up to you next, saying very few yet simple words before hugging you and wishing you luck. Alessia Russo was next, and you couldn't help but giggle as her cheeks went red as she started to speak.

“Erm— sorry, hold on.” The striker looked at Pelova, who prodded her on with her hands. Russo looked back at you, trying hard to remember what she wanted to say.

“Leuk… Leuk je te ontmoeten. Erm- sorry. Ik hoop… Ik hoop dat je geniet… van… Londen.” It’s nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy London. You knew from her strained expression that she was well aware of how much she butchered the language with her English accent, but you pursed your lips together and smiled gratefully. The thought was genuine.

“Thank you.” You muttered, your slim vocabulary in English coming in handy. “It’s… nice to meet you, too.”

Alessia looked to be most accomplished with herself, asking Victoria a question before she was cut off by Jonas’ booming voice.

You waited, trying your hardest to latch onto an idea of what he was saying, but gave up when you felt someone behind you pulling you away from Vic’s side, leading towards the other end of the pitch.

When you faced the girl in front of you, she must've realised that she had startled you, since her eyes widened at your expression.

She was short, but your height, with a scrunchie in her hair and a training jumper over her Jersey. You couldn't count the hundreds of freckles that patterned her face, her doe-like Brown eyes looking at you with a mix of shock and awe.

“Hello, my name’s Kyra. Steph told me your name is Y/n… Jonas said that we are partners, so you can start if you want.”

You didn't say anything. You wish you could, but the words that left her lips were foreign. You felt a flush run across your face, humiliation at your lack of words hitching your breath. You must've looked so stupid since the girl waited for you to reply. Everyone was set off into pairs, a ball adorned between each of them.

The girl in front of you had the ball, picking it up and fidgeting with it in her hands. You stared at each other in silence, neither of you particularly knowing what to do. It wasn't until the girl put the ball to her feet, kicking it towards you, that you communicated in some way.

Instead of talking, the girl showed you the drills, pretending to be Jonas by overexaggerating her actions by marching around, waving her hands vigorously, and using the ball to make you laugh at her ridiculous impression of your Manager.

Her number was thirty-two, yours was thirty-three, and somehow it made you feel more of a connection with her. She was very patient if you didn't understand what you were doing the first time around, and you began to wonder if number thirty-two was trying hard not to talk just for the fun of it.

She never made you feel as if you were annoying her with the lack of audible contact, in fact, she looked to find it a fun game between the pair of you.

No one chose to interrupt or try and sever the consecutive numbers, finding Kyra’s unusual silence amicable in contrast to her typical outgoing self. Both Viv and Vic were eyeing you from where they stood with their respective partners, hesitant about the choice of Kyra as your partner, as you two were very different personalities. But after a while, the two Dutch women stopped looking to see if you were okay, hearing your faint giggles from the view of a giddy Kyra enough to reassure them.

Because of this, training went by quickly for everyone. Today was a pretty easy session, similar to the ones you knew from back home. You knew you were wrapping up when Kyra started juggling the ball, singing a loud tune before passing it over to you.

You moved your feet up and down as you juggled the ball from one foot to the other. Kyra giggled when she missed the ball you passed to her, tripping over her own feet and rolling around on the floor, clutching her stomach in laughter. You did this for a while, before Kyra dragged you across the field and to the stack of drink bottles.

You didn't really know where you were going, so you let Kyra take your hand and lead the way, walking behind her as you passed the bike rack and towards the indoor fields.

You didn't begin to doubt Kyra until you had pretty much walked the length of the training centre, where you had long discarded the fields you were once training on.

“Kyra.” You ushered, making the Australian stop in her tracks at the sound of your voice. She pivoted on her heel, staring at you absolutely gobsmacked.

You looked around, trying to find the words to get across what you wanted to say.

“Say it in Dutch,” Kyra answered, catching a glimpse of your reticence.

You thought to yourself for a second before nodding. “Waar gaan we heen?”

Kyra’s eyes widened, obviously not comprehending a word you said. She looked around, trying to find a solution.

She grabbed your hand again and led you down another corridor, pushing past a few doors, weaving through the never-ending maze of rooms before finally making your way back to the locker rooms, where Vic had taken you to drop off your possessions before training.

Kyra rushed to pick up her phone, waddling over to you, typing away vigorously and smiling up at you when a voice rang from the device.

“Ik kom uit Australië.” I'm from Australia. The voice spoke.

You laughed, taking the phone from the girl’s hands and writing down a reply.

“I know. I can tell by your funny accent.”

Kyra gasped, snatching the phone off you and furiously writing down a retort. You couldn't help but gape at her fondly, biting your lip at the sight of her concentration.

“Mijn accent is niet grappig, mijn grappen wel.” My accent is not funny, my jokes are. The phone sounded.

Before you could type out your own reply, Kyra went back to typing, but instead of letting the audio play, she squinted down at the translated sentence.

“Ik zou je… veel grappen kunnen… vertellen, weet je? Zou je ze graag… willen… horen?” I could tell you heaps of jokes, you know? Would you like to hear them?

For some reason, the Dutch that left the Australian’s lips left you gushing, nodding your head up and down as you grabbed her phone.

When you translated the sentence you had written down, looking down at the words in utter confusion, you sighed. Kyra was definitely no expert in your language, but you were just downright pathetic in hers.

She must've noticed your dismay since she looked over your shoulder, pointing at the first word. “Yes… but do you… have time... to tell… them all?”

She waited for you to sound out each word, humming and nodding in recognition when you repeated the sounds.

She smiled at you, taking her phone. You waited for the audio to play back to you. Kyra’s smirk only grew when she handed her phone back to you, the Contact App up on her phone — your name typed in and phone number blank.

You laughed, and she did too.

You could get use to this communication.

(just pretend it's you)

arsenalwfc : Cooney-Cross showing Y/L/N the ropes before our big clash on Sunday!

Comments:

kyracooneyx — best partner‼️ Laten we gaan gunners (let's go)

^ yourusername — 💗💗

^ user2 — THE DUTCH 😭😭😭

^ user3 — sleeping on the highway tonight, they're so cute 💔

User7 — the eyes chica 😍😍

katie_mccabe11 — quietest training session yet LOVE YOU Y/N

^ kyracooneyx — um rude 😡

vivannemiedema — Where did you two go after training?!

^ kyracooneyx — um, home? 🥰

^ victoriapelova — HAHAHAHA

kimlittle10 — welcome Y/N ❤️

^ yourusername — 💗

User1 — the duo we never knew we needed 🙌🏼🙌🏼

*liked by kyracooneyx

bethmead_ — happy to have you here Y/n!!!!

^ yourusername — Thank you ❤️

^ kyracooneyx — what about me?

^ caitlinfoord — what about you? 🤣

^ user4 — HAVSJDVSJSHSJS I'm dying

User5 — Y/n doesn't speak English, how did they even talk? Lol

^ user6 — Viv and Vic are there. I'm sure she was fine.

User7 — she's not even that good, at this point they're just getting anyone.

^ kyracooneyx — womp womp

* liked by yourusername

_____________

Number Thirty-Three 💗

You : what does ‘womp womp’ mean?

Ky : Niets, net als het. Xx Nothing, just like it. Xx

__________

[dejwritesarchived]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀rekindled, john price

divorce can either turn dark or be a smooth ride down lala land. john and you've been divorced for a while now, but it's not really much of a secret that he just can't stay away from you. especially when he has returned from being whisked away with task force 141.

♔ ˖ ✧ — general warnings: female reader, her/she pronouns, female anatomy described, black reader written in mind, ex husband!john, established past relationship, john and reader have a set of twins, reader gossiping with her friends, italics means a flashback, profanity usage, slight second chance lovers trope // smut warnings: oral (f.receiving), standing position, dirty talk, possessive!john prince, some love bombs are dropped, breeding kink, description of making out // word count: 4.4k, // ao3 // minors dni.

YOU AND YOUR EX-HUSBAND DIDN’T REALLY LEAVE ON A BAD NOTE. But You didn’t leave on a good note either. Your marriage just slowly became dull. Of course, you still had your beautiful twin boys that seemed to steal that charming smile John had. However, you were fully aware that attempting to stay together for the sake of the kids—did more harm than good. The divorce was finalized and the two of you were okay with co-parenting, actually, you’ve been doing it for over a year now. It’s been working well considering what John did for a living, so the majority of the time the boys were with you. When he came back home, they stayed with him. 

It was okay. You were okay being newly divorced, having a nice paying job that you enjoyed, your two sons striving in academics and extracurricular activities, and you even oddly joined a book club also. The book club was filled with different types of women. From the women married to rich bachelors to the freshly divorced who snuggled up with their pool boys after the children slept. They were quite an odd crowd to hang around, but you were genuinely happy. Although you couldn’t relate to your husband buying you a brand new Mercedes or having a sultry affair with your child’s teacher, this group of women knew how to have fun when they wanted to.

Maybe that’s how you whine up at the town’s local bar with them. After realizing how hot and steamy the chapters of this month’s book club book were, you and the ladies decided to go into town for a drink or two. It’s the least you guys could do after a long week of student-teacher conferences and football tournaments. 

“Do you ever miss him?” Blonde-haired Cheryl asked as she down a shot of tequila. Her face scrunched up as she picked up the lime slice to suck on. “You know? John?” She adds to ensure that her question was meant for you.

“What is there to miss? We divorced and went our separate ways. Our boys are happy, and that’s all we care about.” You answered truthfully.

“And what if she told you he just walked in right now as we’re speaking.” Thirty-two-year-old Sheila asked. Her brown skin glistened under the bar light as she leaned back into the booth seat. She twirled her finger around a coil on top of her head before letting out a drunken dreamy sigh. 

“He isn’t coming back to town until next week.” You answered. The two women stared at you as if you’d grown another arm out of your body. You were sure it was because they drank too much, but Sheila had pointed at the figure that stopped to greet the very popular bartender that had seen everyone who stepped foot in here at their lowest. 

You followed where she was pointing, and your breath hitched in your throat. There John was chatting with the bartender—completely making up for the lost time of him not being around. Your teeth nibbled at your lower lip as you quickly turned around before he could fully notice you. You watched as Cheryl placed her head in her hand with a cheeky grin on her face. 

“What?” You asked as you leaned forward to capture the straw in your alcoholic beverage. “It’s not a big deal; he could be here to meet someone. You know, we’ve divorced you guys. He’s allowed to date.” 

“Mhm, okay.” Sheila laughs. “Why are you suddenly so fidgety? You can’t even sit straight now.” 

Now it was Cheryl piecing the pieces together. She’s been with you from the start of the divorce and even asked her husband to be your lawyer. She and Sheila knew you so well. Yes, she knew that you haven’t gotten laid since the divorce, claiming so many times that it’s messy to introduce a man in your life so soon. Despite you and John being divorced for a while now. But Cheryl was calling bullshit. She then covered her mouth in complete shock as the alcohol gave her a boost of realization. “You didn’t!?” She shrieks loudly, and that causes some people to glance in the table’s direction.

“Did what?” Sheila asked as she looked at her before popping another peanut in her mouth. 

“You gave him some, didn’t you?” Cheryl asked. She collected the untouched tequila shot meant for you and downed it with ease. “You gave John some before he left and didn’t even tell us. Here I’m thinking you were practicing abstinence?” Her manicured fingers pointed at you like you were on trial for the Salem Witch Trials. 

“What? That’s nonsense,” Now you were taking huge gulps of your drink. Even took the skinny black straw from the drink and down it until it was burning your insides. 

“She did. She sees him and suddenly can’t sit straight. Don’t even want to see him. So, she must have enjoyed it.” Sheila laughed. “Spill the details now, or I’m throwing this peanut at your forehead.” 

You couldn’t even lie your way out of this. What they were saying was true. Before John had to leave, right after dropping your sons back off to you—one thing led to another, and you found yourself gasping out his name and seeing stars in the moment's bliss. You hated to admit that was what you had thought about since he left. When your eyes closed to go to sleep, you visualized that moment of him being in between your thighs that night. Your cheeks even heated in embarrassment as you sat here trying to deny it happened. Having sex with your ex-husband was messy, especially when you have been telling your friends that you've been going out on dates and attempting the dating pool again. 

“He dropped the boys off, and it just happened, okay?” You threw your hands up in defeat. “One thing led to another, clothes being torn off—you guys know the deal.” 

“But did you feel anything, or was it just sex?” Cheryl asked.

“Like, did he fuck you with meaning or like a one-night stand?” Sheila asked.

“Sheila!” Cheryl shrieked as she playfully smacked her arm. 

“What, Cheryl? I think this is an important question to ask, considering the circumstances. If he fucked her like a one-night stand, he just wanted a last little taste so he could go on about his life. But if he fucked her with some meaning, maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want to let go just yet.” Cheryl had taken a sip of her vodka tonic and gave you a grin. “So which one was it, Y/N?” 

Which one was it? You couldn’t even remember. You sat twiddling with your thumbs as the memories of that night came swirling around your brain for you to remember.

“They’ve been playing all damn day, so I figure that would be ready for bed when they get here,” John commented as he tucked one of the children in.

You only hummed at his response as you leaned down to tuck your other son in. It was good that they were going to bed at a reasonable time since they had school the following morning. You just were grateful that John was being a responsible parent and returning them at a good time that worked for both of you. As you two left the twins' room, you felt like this feeling was a little too familiar. The tucked the boys in, the each giving them a kiss goodnight and then sneaking out of the room not to wake them. It felt strange now, knowing with the divorce finalized—the two of you didn’t go to the shared bedroom together. Instead, John would share his farewell and just leave. 

You were still getting used to your home's subtle silence now that John wasn’t here. You knew that if he were still here around this time—you would hear the laughter of your three favorite boys playing video games or watching television. But now it wasn’t like that. You no longer heard John’s loud laughter that echoed through the halls, no matter how hard he tried to keep it down. It was just silence. 

“I’m going away for a couple of weeks, possibly a month max.” John breaks your thoughts as he stops you from going further down the hall. He noticed the grasp he had on your hand and quickly dropped it. 

You were used to talks like this. Once again, it was different with you two being divorced this time. Your lips form a straight line as you realize that you’ll have to give your sons the talk. “Did you tell the boys?” You asked.

“Of course, they took the news quite well. Shockingly,” John chuckles as he rubs at his facial hair before sighing. “I just wanted to let you know also.” 

“They’re not our little babies anymore; they’re getting so big.” You admitted. “But I appreciate you telling me,” You added. 

He gives you a grin of satisfaction before he shares his farewells to find his way out. However, now it was you stopping him from departing. “Just return back to us—I mean them, in one piece.” You gave him a genuine smile that you knew he had to return. 

“And if I don’t?” John turns to take a step forward, once again closing the gap between you two as you stand in the hallway. 

“I’m going to come to save you myself if I have to. I am not going through these boys' teenage years alone, you smug asshole.” You said as you were trying to bite back a grin. 

John glances at you with a twinkle in his eyes. His heart pinged at the sight of that grin. Some days he found himself questioning what went wrong without realizing that nothing can go wrong in a relationship. However, people can outgrow each other. They can just realize that it wasn’t working out anymore, and John was trying so hard to attach that statement to the two of you. He just couldn’t. The captain couldn’t let you go. He was quite upset that he let you go—that he sat and let the divorce happen. 

“So please, John Price, return in one piece quickly.” You repeated. You noticed his eyes glancing at your lips and soon staring back at you. He did that when he wanted to kiss you. You’ve known him for years to tell that.

“And if you want one last kiss, just get it over with, John.” You threw your hands up in defeat, knowing that this would only complicate and confuse things. But then again, this could be the last time you see him. 

With that, he’s kissing you. He’s kissing you so hard that you forget to breathe for a second. Your fingers grasped at his shirt to get him closer. Your back was pushed against the wall as John deepened the kiss. His tongue glides across your lower lip, aching to taste you. His guess was you were drinking wine before he dropped the kids off because, on Sunday nights, you spent it drinking wine and indulging in a bubble bath. Of course, he remembered that. He knew you more than he fuckin’ knew himself. 

Your lips parted without a fight or fuss just to let John in. His tongue slithers in your mouth, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling. John’s kisses always took you to another universe. They were so intense that they made your knees go weak. They made you sit and think about them. They had you wanting more. Maybe this kiss and the fact that you haven’t been laid since the divorce had you eager for more. His lips disconnect from your lips to kiss your jawline and then to your neck. His facial hair tickles you, and you bite back a childish giggle as you notice how fast he moves. His hands lingered in the pastel pink silk robe that seemed to loosen each second. 

“Fuck, I missed this,” John whispered before he planted a kiss on your swollen lips again. 

“We’re going to wake the boys. We should go into the room,” You said between the subtle breaks of the kiss. “They’ll question why you’re still here, you know?” 

“We’ll figure that out when we get there.” He leads you to the master bedroom that once was shared by you two. The scent of John still lingers around even though you even redecorated the room to your liking.

Your back pushes against the room door to close it shut as your eyes watch John tugging the shirt he wore over his head. Your teeth got caught in your lip as you took him in. From his broad shoulders to the battle scars. The sight of him had your panties wet and forced you to clutch your thighs shut. He took two steps to be closer to you again, his eyes taking in your features. From your coils that fell in your face due to your wash-n-go style to those eyes that put him in a trance every time he looked at you. His hands travel down to untie the knot of the silk robe.

Your skin is now garnished with goosebumps as soon as the crisp air in your room hits your skin. Your nipples had already hardened from just the sight of John, so they immediately poked through the silk fabric. John’s mouth watered at the sight of you. He always thought you were the most beautiful woman he had seen. His tongue wets his lips before he gets on his knees without a word to help you step out of your panties. He’s prompting one of your legs over his shoulder without a care, and without warning, he’s indulging in your taste. The flat of his tongue gliding across your wet folds. John missed this. He missed being between your plush legs, hearing you whimpering his name and clawing your fingers through his hair.

His tongue flickers at your clit, which got you talking. Your hand went up to muffle your moans, but as soon as you felt John’s tongue trace the outline of your entrance—you had lost any grace to keep your voice down. Your knees buckled slightly at the feeling of him in between your thighs. John ignored your pleas and cried about how good he made you feel. The only thing on his mind was the thought of tasting you. Making you come so good that when he left—he was the only thing on your mind. Was that selfish of John? Probably so, but he didn’t give a damn. 

Teasingly he placed a kiss on your thigh before going back in. His nose nuzzled at your pubes as he took his index and middle finger to insert inside of you without warning. He let his tongue flicker at your sensitive bud as he thrusts his fingers inward. Your juices dripped down his slender digits as he fingered you. His eyes make eye contact with you as he’s curving his finger just to hit that spot that causes you to yell out his name. 

“John baby, please. I’m about to-“ Your words stopped abruptly when you felt him remove himself from you. Your orgasm blew away as quickly as ever as John stood up off his knees. He’s staring at you with so much lust in his eyes—it was the same look he gave you the night the twins were conceived. 

His bulge was noticeable in his pants; you took it upon yourself to tug him closer in a heated kiss. The taste of you now encrypts your tongue while you undo the button on his pants. You let your hand rub at his bulge, causing him to groan in the kiss. As you were helping him out his bottoms, his callous hands fully tugged the silk robe off. The robe decorated the brown wooden floors alongside John’s clothes, and with each passing minute, you became whole again. 

He lifts you up easily, and a chill goes down your spine at the feeling of his cock brushing against your entrance. You were expecting him to carry you to the bed. You wouldn’t have minded him taking you in a missionary position where you could feel extra stroke; he put his all in. Or doggy style, where you could muffle out his name in the fluffy pillow. But instead, he’s using the door to lean your back upon, and with one hand holding you up—he using his other to help guide you upon his cock. Your arms snake around his neck in a strong grasp from the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out and the fear of him dropping you. You two had never done a position so vulgar, so this came as a shock to you. But the only thing you could do is indulge in the glorious feeling of John. 

It was such an amazing feeling. It felt like John was the only thing you could stutter out. How his hands guided you up and down his cock had your eyes lolling in the back of your head. Your teeth nibbled on your lower lip to muffle your moans because you didn’t want to wake the boys. With each thrust upward, you felt your juices dripping down your thighs. When you made eye contact with John, you didn’t think you could get any wetter than you already were. He looked so wonderful like this. Balls deep inside you, uttering how well you’re taking him and how beautiful you look. Were you falling back in love with him, or was that just the way he was fucking you that had your brain all mushy inside. 

“You haven’t been giving this pussy to anyone else, have you?” John questioned through his rhythmic thrusting. 

You couldn’t muster up an answer until he fully tugged himself from thrusting upward inside of you and slamming himself back into your wet pussy once again. This time repeat the question so you can answer him loud and clear. 

“No, I’m all yours, John.” You whimpered out with tears of pleasuring, staining your lash line. 

You leaned in to kiss him deeply, your fingers combing through his hair, just wanting to feel closer to him. Although your bodies were already swapping sweat and intertwined closer than ever, it just felt right at the moment, wanting to be closer to John. His thrusting became quicker, and you knew he was most likely about to cum. You could always tell when he was about to come.

Cause when John came, he came a lot. Big heavy loads of his cum just oozed out when he came. He had a thing where he would always come inside you unless you told him not to. But it didn’t shock you; he told you before you two got engaged that he wanted kids. You always joke that it was why you were graced with twins instead of one child. 

His face would get as red as a tomato, and the only thing you could hear him say as he cast soft kisses upon your neck and collarbone was your name. 

“Y/N..Y/N..I love you, Y/N.”

When the two of you were being tugged down by the intense feeling of your orgasms, you quickly went to tug on your rob. Your skin felt hot, sticky, and you smelt like him. You were shuffling in embarrassment as you collected John’s clothes off the floor and shoved them in his hands. You couldn’t even progress the fact that he uttered those words to you. 

“You must get out of here before the boys see you.” You were avoiding looking at him because you knew you would want more. You knew you couldn’t say those words because it would further confuse you. 

You were expecting him to argue against your words, but John collected his clothes and started to put them on. The two of you were silent as you sat on the bed, attempting to collect your thoughts. You had just slept with your ex-husband and enjoyed it. Actually, you were eager for me. 

And the last thing John said to you before leaving the bedroom you once shared was to give the boys one last kiss for me. 

You leaned back into your seat, watching as your two friends were a giggling mess.

“I can’t believe you kicked him out afterward. You could at least let him sleep in the guests' room.” Cheryl said. 

“Hell, he had his head in between her thighs. Might as well sleep in the master bedroom.” Sheila adds.

 Sheila would finish her drink and check her phone, “Oh shit, the wife has come to pick us tipsy stranglers up.” She says as she looks at you. “I mean, you can always ask John for a ride. Considering you already…you know.” 

Cheryl snickers as she tugs her jacket on and collects her belongings. “Sheila, we have to be serious. He can’t know what we know. Now I’m heading to the ladies' room before we leave; you coming?” 

“Oh yeah,” Sheila says.

“I’ll meet you two outside.” You slipped on your jacket and moved by the crowd in the bar to exit. Purposely avoiding the direction that John was near. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him. You just knew seeing him would mean you’ll bombard yourself with feelings that you've been thinking about since he left. You’ll be forced to think about how maybe letting him was a huge mistake. 

As soon as you stepped outside, you called the babysitter for your sons to let them know that you were on your way home. Your back leaned against the brick wall waiting for Sheila and Cheryl—of course, they would take forever in the bathroom when you needed to run away from someone. You tugged your jacket further on your body once you felt the crisp nightly breeze brush by you. Suddenly, you could feel someone standing next to you. And you knew it was him. 

For one.) he probably saw you leave in such a hurry you would think you left your oven on at your house or two.) Cheryl and Sheila didn’t actually go to the bathroom. They most likely drunkenly approached him and said that you were waiting for him. 

“We need to talk.” It seemed you two said at the same time. 

Now you were facing him, the sound of the bar door was pushed open, and your two friends bubbly stumbled out, arms linked with each other as they walked towards Sheila's wife's car. 

“Bye, John,” Cheryl drags out his name with a childish grin, not hiding that she knew you two slept together. “Y/N? Are you coming? They can drop you off also.” 

“She’s in good hands, Cheryl. I’ll make sure she gets off safely.” John gives her a half grin, and you look at your friends, trying to telepathically tell them not to leave you alone with him.

But Sheila only winked at you before wishing her farewells to you and John and dragging a tipsy Cheryl away. Now the two of you were alone. Just you, him, and your thoughts about that night before he left.

“We should get going. The babysitter is waiting for us—I mean me.” You said, and with that, you followed John to his car. 

Too many memories hit you all at once when you were in the passenger seat. The scent of John, obviously. The one crayon marking from one of the twins was on the dashboard. The driver's side that you occasionally would glance at John and watch him drive. He’ll always catch you staring before you look away in embarrassment. Gosh, you couldn’t forget the times that seat was reclined back, and you climbed on top of him like a hormonal sex-deprived woman. But you shouldn’t be thinking about this at the moment. You wanted to have a clear conversation with him without anything sexual getting involved. 

“Is this the part where we awkwardly talk about what happened?” John questioned. His eyes stared ahead on the road, and you just felt so little in his car.

Facing your feelings head-on as soon as that question comes out. Your fingers toyed with the bracelets that decorated your wrist before speaking, “We had sex. What more is there to say?”

You could hear your ex-husband tapping at the steering wheel. He clicks his tongue before speaking, “That’s what it was? Doesn’t seem like it, but okay.” He makes a turn, and you take note that he was purposely taking the long way back to the home you two once shared.

“Okay?” You asked. “Is that why you’re taking a long way home? Come on, John. We’ve taken this route before when we want-” You stopped midsentence realizing what you would say.

It was the same way he would take where he would pull over after a romantic date, and the two of you would engage in a heated quickie. He would take the same route if you two needed to argue a little longer to prevent your sons from hearing it when you were home. The last time you took this route, your lips parted to utter the word divorce; the rest was history. 

“Because we need to talk. You know more than I know that what happened was more than just sex.”

You grew silent, slowly slumping in your seat. “But what’s next if I say I felt more?” You asked. Your arms cross over your chest, sighing. “We can’t just get together.”

“Why not?” John stops at the red light, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Oh, that gaze. He knew what he was doing. He knew that right now, the way his eyes drank in your looks as if you were the finest bottle of whiskey made your heart flutter in your chest. You looked away, not having an answer to his question because there weren’t any. Deep down, you wanted to give you and John another try. 

It was only right that you rekindled the old flame that blew out.

After a minute of silence and the low hum of whatever generic pop song was playing on the radio, you asked. “So, how does this work?” 

“I guess we take it one step at a time.” He gives you a reassuring smile that you return.

“One step at a time.” You repeated before finally relaxing in your seat.

One step at a time at rekindling your marriage.

​━━ ♡ TAGS // @takemichiluvr @astennu @maydayaisha @introvered-violinist @diorlov3er @xintothewoodswegox @erieniee @photosbyameil @monstas1ut2 @princessd4isyjr @indiecursor @pranksterfan13 @mommiej @sweetsummerpie @caramelanins @alinvert @blackwolfqueenzz @attemptedgull @arctic-writes @h0rror-wh0re @yoshimurah @honeyhoneyyyyyy @hellshedevil @shamelesshoefairy @koresflora

[luvneymar]

(2) ALL I WANTED WAS U — JUDE BELLINGHAM

SUMMARY: After coming back from a one-night stand with his his best friend, Jude realizes you don’t see him. He’s in love with you and you don’t see him.

PARING: bestfriend!jude x bestfriend!reader

NOTE: DRAMA?🤣 jude is a literal simp and my mission during this fic is to make sure y’all know dat !!!

“C’mon guys! Hustle! The tournament is in 3 weeks and you all are sloppy! Mount & Grealish stop giggling like schoolgirls and start running!” The coach for the men’s England World-Cup team screeched from the sidelines rubbing the sweat off his forehead as his veins bulged in anger.

The rest of the team were causally jogging just fast enough for the angry man to not yell at them but not Jude. Jude was either right behind them or right in-front of them ignoring all of them despite their best efforts to talk to the boy.

With his headphones on his ears he was in his own zone, his own space thinking about what you both had talked about just around 2 weeks ago. Your words ran laps around his mind 24/7 for the last 14 days.

“I slept with Trent.”.

“I fucked Trent.”

“I had sex with Trent.”

No matter how he worded it in his mind it was still the same, the deed had been done. You fucked him & there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He felt like a non-consensual cuck. Stuck in a three-way that didn’t even exist.

I mean how can you not know that he’s been pining for you since forever. Ever since Trent & all his other friends constantly mentioned how hot you looked in this & how great your rack looked in that he finally saw the bigger picture & came to terms with the weird fuzzy feeling in his stomach he’d get every time you’d kiss him on the cheek or hugged him.

“Jude! Why you running all alone? Join us!” Trent yelled out signalling Saka, Phil & Marcus to slow down & wait for him to catch up. Jude hadn’t even acknowledged Trent’s call despite hearing him loud and clear. He jogged right passed them as if he hadn’t heard.

They all looked at him with a weird face jogging up towards Jude stopping him as they grabbed his shoulder stopping him from running off. “Hey didn’t you hear me? Slow down.”

Jude shrugged his hand off and tried to jog off but Trent’s hold was quite strong forcing him to stay in place placing him into a full-stop. He pulled off his headphones in anger shrugging his hand off as he turned to look at the group. “Oh my days, What!”

“Geez dude, what bug crawled up your ass?” Phil muttered through a chuckle which caused Marcus & Saka to snort causing some weird domino of laughter, Jude’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance as he motioned to place his ear phones back onto his head.

“Sorry sorry, what’s going on with you? We haven’t talked in like two weeks.” Trent asked concerned smacking Jude on his butt lightly signalling him to continue walking jogging after he caught the look of annoyance on the coach’s face.

“Nothing I’m just anxious for the tournament.” Jude brushed him off with a statement that wasn’t even true. Just seeing his face pissed him off so bad which made him angry all the time.

“Your right. France is definitely going to hand a lot of countries their asses on polished silverware.” He joked looking around to see if anyone else laughed at his joke, Jude rolled his eyes as he prayed that Trent would cut the conversation short.

How can he just make a causal conversation just weeks after he literally told him so casually that he had sex with you in details that ran laps in the right, left, front & centre part of his brain. Just thinking about it made Jude want to beat the shit out of him.

“Whatever.” He grumbled with annoyances laced in his voice.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting like a little bitch ever since I told you about what happened a few weeks ago.” Trent questioned also irritated that his friend was ascribe flaky.

“What happened a few weeks ago?” They all questioned, wanting to find out what was making their friend so pissy.

“Y’know (Name)? (Name, Last Name)? Jude’s friend? Yeah met her at the club we went to a 2 weeks ago and managed to get her into bed. Told Jude how mind-blowing it was and now he’s pissy.”

“Oh her? Shit I’d be mad too. She fine as fuck, I’d just be mad you got to tap that before I did.” Phil mentioned in a broken sentence unable to control his laughter.

As the group laughed Jude poked his cheek with his tongue trying remain calm & collected, it was quite hard seeing as how he was literally listening to his friend objectify you in a vulgar manner with no respect for you at all.

“Judey lighten up! There are other girls out there. Girls your age. She wouldn’t shack up with you even if you were the only man on earth. You have girls flocking after you left & right.” Marcus slapped Jude on the back after finally calming down from the laughter than had went around.

“She’s probably not into younger men anyways, I mean you just graduated high-school a few months ago. She probably graduating soon.” Trent mention remind Jude once again about the age gap you both had in.

“Won’t that make her look like a cougar anyway? Find out if she has a sister of something. You gotta forget about her.” Trent added making the group burst in laughter once again.

Hearing them home about you in that way in an attempt to try and make him feel better about the fact that you were “too old” for him just pissed him off even more.

Jude stopped in his tracks & pulled Trent by his shirt stopping him his tracks too abruptly, “Im not pissy i’m pissed you cunt, my “problem” is that you slept with my friend knowing damn well I had feelings for her you fucking ass!”

After he said nothing but chaos insured, Jude spun Trent around so he could face him as he proceeded to give him a dirties punch of the century. Trent stumbled back a bit holding his nose in pain cursing all sorts of profanities before walking up to Jude & within the same split second punching him in his eye.

“You fucking bastard.” Jude mumbled before proceeding to jump on-top of Trent punching him in his face a few times before Trent managed to roll him over getting a few punches on his face as well.

Many different rows of profanities were passed around until the group had decide to step in thinking about the nearer future & how this could effect the result of the tournament they were training for.

“Guys knock it off!” Phil shouted out trying to pull Trent away from Jude as they assaulted each other just to get punched in the nose instead, hearing the groan he let out the rest of the team turned around to see the commotion altering the coach as-well.

The coach rushes over towards the pair who had bruises & a bit of blood on both of them as they continued to drown in testosterone using their natural male instincts to figure out their differences.

“What the hell! Guys break it up now! Whatever your fighting about I promise you it isn’t worth it!” The coach yelled out standing in between the 2 men sending a reasonable distance between the two stopping them from sending anymore punches each others ways.

Once the fight had ceased to exist the coach turned to Trent seeing as how he was in worse shape than Jude with a busted lip, a head laceration & a bruised eye. “Who started the fighting?”

“That fucking cunt right there.” Trent spit out the blood that rested in his mouth before pointing to Jude who stood there with Phil trying to hold him back from trying to attack Trent once again.

“Jude come with me. Now.” Jude wiped away some of the blood from his forehead as Phil wrapped his arm around Jude helping him walk away from the circle that formed and towards the building where the coach’s office was.

Once they reached there the coach signalled Phil to exit the room as he wanted to talk to Jude alone. As soon as the door closed the coach bursted in the a fit of anger yelling at Jude as he throw different types of things off his desk onto the wall behind Jude.

“What the hell were you thinking? Has your cranium suddenly stopped working and all your common sense has been flushed down the drain?” He yelled out poking his finger into the side of his head as Jude stood there staring at his shoes that were stained with mud & some splotches of blood.

“But He—!” Jude tried explain with no avail.

“No speaking when I’m speaking! I don’t want to hear it. Your my star pupil. Hand picked from the best of the best. You cant be fighting with your companions like that.” He lectured Jude finally calming down enough to speak to him rationally.

The coach looked up at him just to see his eyes hadn’t moved from the spot on the floor it had been for the past minute, “I’m honestly disappointed Jude. I didn’t expect this from you of all people. You’re much more mature than the others even for your age.”

“Well tell that to the bastard talking shit.” Jude muttered under his breath trying to get a word in his defence.

The coach raised his eyebrow as he heard what Jude said but wanted him to say it with his chest. “Did you have something to say Bellingham?”

“No sir, sorry.”

“You’re going to apologize to him and you’re going to be benched for the a while for the starting games. That’s your punishment.” The coach walked towards the door signalling Jude to follow him.

“But I—!”

“No buts. Now get out before I start searching for a replacement for you.” Jude’s hands failed down to his sides in defeat as he walked out of the office grinding his teeth in frustration.

if you could just get a word in the coach would see how this situation wasn’t even his fault, but he knew there was no point in trying to explain himself once the coach made up his mind he made up his mind. 

 As he walked back onto the field, bandages decorated all over his face he heard the whispers from his teammates. see who was whispering about him just to see the same four who instigated the whole problem. “Look, look here he comes.”

fortunately, the rest of the practice goes smoothly without any more disturbances from Trent and Jude as the coach make sure that they were both separated heavily and did the exercise at two different times just to make sure another fight wouldn’t happen. 

—

“I’m back.” Jude announced in a solemn and dull voice like a defeated puppy, how could he possibly come back home and face you after he basically went all warrior ninja on Trent because of you. It was too embarrassing on his part.

As he works as he walked towards the common area, he heard a voice that was all too familiar to him. He couldn’t exactly put a pin on it, but he knew that it was somebody he knew. 

“Hey Jude.” You greeted him turning your head from the screen playing a random Christmas movie quickly before turning it back snuggling into the mysterious figure that rested beside you.

as he looked up from the floor, all the pieces finally came together for him the very person he beat the shit out of that very afternoon with sitting beside, you, snuggled up into your chest casually scrolling on his phone.

“What the fuck? Why is he here?” The words came flying out of his mouth before he could even stop it, you turned to look at him with a sheepish smile on your face pulling your hand from around him to fidget with your fingers.

“Well you left so abruptly this morning I wasn’t able to tell you.” You muttered pausing the movie which caused the anonymous man to look up from his phone cunning smile on his face as he waved to Jude head still semi-snuggled into your chest.

“Hey man.” Trent waved to him half-assed stupid smug smile still resting on his face.

“Don’t ‘Hey Man’ me I’ll fucking kill you.” Jude dropped his bag by the side of the couch, and walk towards chance just for you to stand up in between them, trying to stop a fight from arising.

“Jude no! No more fighting. If you have a problem make your issues vocal. Just, no more fighting. Please.” You begged him looking up at him with the eyes you had to know had an hypnotic effect on him.

“Fine.” He muttered absolutely defeated. he had been utterly shame today not only had he basically confessed his feelings to his friend about his newfound girlfriend he beat the shit out of him just for him to get his wounds licked by you.

He walked away towards the direction of his room & closed the door quite aggressively, he hadn’t even recognized himself. He he isn’t the type of person to slam doors whenever he’s upset or try to fight people whenever they have a difference.

but that was just the effect you had on him.  you were able to make him go absolutely insane basically put him under your spell like a wizard. even though you were currently resting in trance, arms, kissing on him, loving on, and touching on him, and fucking on him.

He was determined to make sure that you’d be his at the end of the day. Ever since the day you both met he was sure that you’d be his one day even if he had to get rid roadblocks like Trent, he’d gladly do so. 

← prev [neymarsluv!] next →

[broadwaydivastournament]

Movie Musical Divas Tournament: Round 1

Pearl Bailey (1918-1990): Carmen Jones (1958) as Frankie | St. Louis Blues (1958) as Aunt Hagar | Porgy and Bess (1959) as Maria

"like have you heard her sing???" - anonymous

Anita Ellis (1920-2015): Gilda (1946) as Gilda | Down to Earth (1947) as Terpsichore Gentlemen Marry Brunettes (1955) as Jeanne Crain | The Belle of New York (1952) voice of Vera Ellen All credits are as a "ghost singer"

"okay Anita Ellis doesn’t have many acting credits or even film credits bc her voice dubbing was often uncredited, but she often did voice dubbing for Rita Hayworth singing (in Gilda, Down to Earth, Lady from Shanghai) and has a notably hot voice!! and I think we should all recognize that!!" - anonymous

Pearl Bailey:

Photos submitted by: anonymous

Video submitted by: anonymous

Carmen Jones (1955): "Beat Out dat Rhythm on a Drum" - Pearl Bailey - Full Song/ Dance - Musicals - YouTube (submitted by @mygreatadventurehasbegun)

Note: stage-related propaganda and accompanying video of Pearl's Broadway performance in Hello, Dolly! was deemed ineligible for submission. But you should all look it up and experience it on your own time because it's divine.

Anita Ellis:

Photos and video submitted by: anonymous

[chibifox2002]

Hello mama D! How do you feel about this tournament?

"Dis ain't me not having enough confidence in myself, I'm just tryin' tah be realistic."

"But other than dat, I'm excited and am wishing the other contestants good luck!"

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

John Hagee American Pastor

Here we have John, his son Matt Hagee, I assume Matt's son and a friend at the CCS Sword and Shield Golf tournament.

Looks like that Hagee wide hips and thick ass is definitely hereditary as Matt and his son has it. But they look hairy and John looks smooth???

Matt just needs to blow back up and he'd be near perfect. Not perfect like his dad. Dat ass takes years to hone.

[kroosluvr]

"an inside look into shujin academy's famed 'royal trio'" fic notes

link to the fic / link to tumblr post / link to tumblr ART!! post

this is going to be LONGGGG just all of my rambles/easter eggs(??) AND ETC. Not mandatory reading i kinda just want to write this for me to refer back to in like a few years or whatever hehehe

it is def confusing that i called shujin tennis academy that instead of giving it a diff name but i wanted to be a little tongue-in-cheek

mishima is a wannabe sports reporter, but maya amano (+ yukino mayuzumi) r already established sports reporters @ coolest magazine! :3 small cameo(sorta) at the end

goro does not want mishima out of a job he just hates interviews. he knows he HAS to do them though, and generally he's only featured alongside akira or sumire or both bc otherwise he doesnt wanna do em. for reasons i will elaborate on in futchure fics or art

i wanted to keep the mishima-using-akira-(SORTA)-for-popularity that canon has bc i always thought that was funny!!! since akira is so popular everyone's gotta read mishima's articles for info abt him....

'Ran donuts around ‘em' -> donuts is slang for straight sets (winning 6-0 6-0). incidentally, i've heard 'donut' used mostly in the PNW area while 'bagel' is used more in PNE. could be wrong. source: californian and i played college tennis in boston

generally, akira is always first seed while goro is second seed. sometimes the ranking is a littleeee inexplicable but it usually turns out this way when theyre in the same tournament

in general i wanted to emphasize the weird codependency needy attached-at-the-hip but we also hate eachother sort of "teammates"/friends(???) relationship that you develop in competitive sports... so all the "romantic" gestures throughout the fic can kinda just be boiled down to that. like, in a Normal context, maybe it'd be considered romantic, but in a "im fucking fiending for my life on a tennis court" context then it's just tuesday

sumire IS a walking ITF (international tennis federation) handbook. for reasons i will elaborate on in futchure fic/art! but she takes tennis very VERY seriously. (goro also takes it VERY seriously and akira takes it seriously.)

goro lets sumire call him by his first name abt 3 months into training w her at the academy (with him and akira its like within the first match bc theyre already at eachothers throats LMAO) after her landslide victory! thats when he kinda acknowledges her as a teammate i guess? beforehand they were just hitting partners

anyway the idea of "teammate" in competitive, individual, professional tennis is very fun and interesting to me as u can tell. LMAO. and like "what makes a Friend" versus A Teammate in terms of pro athletics

goro gets embarrassed when akira lets sumire sleep in their room not because of the actual fact of her sleeping there but because he doesn't WANT her to see him with his guard down. she always sees him on the court, ready to conquer his opponents, top-notch quality tennis, etc so he's mortified that she saw him Like that (just woken up LOL) though ofc she doesnt think anythign of it bc shes just like yayyyy tennis yayyy

Yup whenever u see a ping pong table u gotta round up all ur tennis oomfs and duel it out (i suck at ping pong....)

sumire being hard on akira and goro's tennis is kinda peak to me LOL she takes this sport so serious

AKIRA MISHIMA FRIENDSHIP MEANS THE WORLD TO ME. aside i read a few akira x mishima fics lately so theyve been buzzing in my head... important ...

dats a real club that i played at... one of my fav tournaments even though i played at like 8:30am or smth and it sucked. but it was reallyyy pretty and quite a drive

sumire + kasumi one-sided rivalry drives me insane ESP in tennis au, they're literally in two different fucken universes when it comes to athletics yet sumire is still deathly intimidated by her

goro picking fights w akira and sumire YAYYYYYYYYYY <3 and sumire boiling "friendship" down to "we play tennis well together" is so peak. yeahhh angst

"why do you play tennis" / "do you love tennis" / "what do you like about tennis" r such difficult questions. i read up on some pro interviews and they hurt me physically broooo like... it seems like a rarely asked question and you get a lot of common answers but u also get stuff that just breaks ur heart

aside, this convo btwn goro and sumire is very accomplice violetcrow to me. they're complicit in their hatred and their violence and their self-destruction except its very very very self contained to a couple of lines on a hard court (and sometimes grass if we're feeling special.) they truly hunger for number 1!!!!

i really like this section LMAO its probably my favorite.

woahhh shido mention. wonder what thats abt. TO BE CONTINUED

usual jokercrow scare tactics. mating dance type situation (sumire is used to this and doesnt think anything of it) like i said its like stuff that'd be DEFINITELY romantic and flirty in a normal context but in sports when things are highly charged and emotional and you're neck to neck it's less so. (obviously it still kinda is but this is what i mean in that u could totally read this whole fic platonically all the way around if u wanted to)

"Sumire hadn’t responded to that. She had practice to get to, after all." yupppp why would sumire spend time on anything thats not tennis? shes not number 1 yet, so how can she afford to waste time? 8)

akira/mishima playing basketball at the end IMPORTANCE!! also had to include akira stealing shit obviously. BUT YEAH i think its so important that akira finally gathers the idea that like... woah.. my life extends beyond the tennis court.. i can have HOBBIES.. and FRIENDS.... and hes the first of the 3 to realize that. sumire takes ages and goro also does (but quicker than sumire.) and also callback to when mishima said he missed him!!

Q6. Do you love tennis? Haha. haha. haha. yeah mishima ur not asking that one. that's hell ur walking into

[air-rising]

New ellie and daan articles 🥹 can you post it please

Google translated as per usual.

-

’Ik ga waar zij gaat’

Liefde tussen Daniëlle van de Donk en Australië-ster Ellie Carpenter overstijgt alles

'I go where she goes'

Love between Daniëlle van de Donk and Australia star Ellie Carpenter transcends everything

Daniëlle van de Donk (r.) straalt op de foto met haar geliefde Ellie Carpenter. De twee kunnen elkaar zomaar tegenkomen als opponenten op het WK.

Daniëlle van de Donk (r.) shines in the photo with her beloved Ellie Carpenter. The two can just meet as opponents at the World Cup.

-

Het was een geweldige shock voor Australië, donderdagavond in Brisbane. Waar niemand rekening mee had gehouden, geschiedde. De Matildas, outsider op het eigen WK, werden in Queensland pootje gelicht door Nigeria (2-3), waardoor plaatsing voor de knock-outfase een zware kluif gaat worden. Daniëlle van de Donk voelde een paar duizend kilometer verderop in Wellington met haar vriendin mee.

Natuurlijk had Van de Donk na de Australische nederlaag een vreugdesprongetje kunnen maken. Tenslotte: de Aussies zijn net als Nederland een kanshebber voor de wereldtitel. Maar zo zit Van de Donk niet in elkaar.

It was a great shock for Australia, Thursday night in Brisbane. What no one had taken into account happened. The Matildas, outsider at their own World Cup, were lifted in Queensland by Nigeria (2-3), making placement for the knockout phase a tough hit. Daniëlle van de Donk felt with her friend a few thousand kilometers away in Wellington.

Of course Van de Donk could have made a leap of joy after the Australian defeat. Finally: the Aussies, like the Netherlands, are a contender for the world title. But that's not how Van de Donk works.

De liefde voor haar Ellie overstijgt het WK. „Ik hoop dat mijn vriendin ver komt”, zegt de verliefde Oranje Leeuwin na terugkomst uit Wellington, waar Oranje en de Verenigde Staten een waar spektakelstuk hadden opgevoerd. „Natuurlijk wil ik dat. Ellie heeft er keihard voor getraind. Zij is net terug van een kruisbandblessure.”

The love for her Ellie transcends the World Cup. 'I hope my girlfriend gets far,' says the Orange Lioness in love after returning from Wellington, where Orange and the United States had staged a true spectacle. “Of course I want that. Ellie trained hard for it. She has just returned from a cruciate ligament injury.”

Ellie Carpenter is mateloos populair in haar geboorteland. Op vijftienjarige leeftijd maakte de rechtsback haar debuut voor het nationale elftal, een jaar later was ze de jongste deelnemer aan het olympisch voetbaltoernooi. De vonk tussen Carpenter en Van de Donk sloeg over in Frankrijk, waar ze samen uitkomen voor Olympique Lyonnais.

Ellie Carpenter is immensely popular in her native country. At the age of fifteen, the right back made her debut for the national team, a year later she was the youngest participant in the Olympic football tournament. The spark between Carpenter and Van de Donk spread in France, where they play together for Olympique Lyonnais.

In de armen sluiten | Closing in the arms

Ze konden elkaar een paar weken terug in Sydney nog even kort in de armen sluiten, vertelt Van de Donk, die in de uren na het duel met de VS een ware hit was op social media vanwege de zwarte badmuts die ze de laatste paar minuten van het duel moest dragen.

They were able to embrace each other briefly a few weeks ago in Sydney, says Van de Donk, who was a real hit on social media in the hours after the duel with the US because of the black swimming cap she had to wear for the last few minutes of the duel.

Voor aankomst in Nieuw-Zeeland verbleef Oranje negen dagen in Sydney. „Daar hebben we elkaar nog een uurtje kunnen zien”, zegt Van de Donk. Carpenter was op doorreis naar Brisbane, waar de Australische selectie haar tenten heeft opgeslagen. „Ik moest allemaal spullen voor haar meenemen, proteïnes en zo. Het kwam toevallig zo uit dat we elkaar konden treffen. Hoe kort ook, ik was hartstikke blij om haar te zien.”

Before arriving in New Zealand, Orange stayed in Sydney for nine days. 'We were able to see each other there for another hour,' says Van de Donk. Carpenter was passing through to Brisbane, where the Australian selection pitched its tents. “I had to bring all kinds of stuff for her, proteins and stuff. It just so happened that we could meet. No matter how short, I was very happy to see her.”

Staan vol achter ploeg | Are full behind squad

Het is dat Van de Donk zelf actief is op het WK, anders had ze alle duels van haar geliefde op de tribunes gezeten. „Ik vind dat ze ook een heel leuk team hebben. De mensen in Australië staan als home country vol achter de ploeg, de stadions zitten vol en breken records. Daar moet ik ook achter staan. Maar dat had ik vorig jaar op het EK ook bij Engeland. Die zijn ook op de juiste manier aan de weg aan het timmeren. Nou, dan heb je mijn support al. Want ik wil het vrouwenvoetbal ook alleen maar verder helpen”, meent Van de Donk, die na haar loopbaan het trainersvak in wil. „Sommige trainingspapiertjes heb ik al.”

It is that Van de Donk herself is active at the World Cup, otherwise she would have sat all the duels of her lover in the stands. “I think they also have a very nice team. The people in Australia are full behind the team as a home country, the stadiums are full and break records. I have to stand behind that too. But I also had that at the European Championships last year in England. They are also working on the right way. Well, then you already have my support. Because I only want to help women's football further,” says Van de Donk, who wants to enter the coaching profession after her career. 'Some training papers I already have.'

Daniëlle van de Donk in haar outfit van het Nederlands elftal. Dinsdag wacht de groepswedstrijd tegen Vietnam.

Daniëlle van de Donk in her outfit of the Dutch national team. The group game against Vietnam awaits on Tuesday.

Afgelopen zomer bezocht Van de Donk voor de eerste keer het land van haar vriendin. „Dat was na het EK, uiteraard met zijn tweetjes. Ik had een hele goede reisgids aan haar en heb hele mooie dingen gezien. Zelf komt Ellie uit het binnenland van New South Wales, op vijf uur rijden van Sydney. Ze woonde er op een boerderij en weet zelfs hoe je slangen moet killen. Verder was er daar helemaal niks te doen. Gelukkig wonen haar ouders nu in Sydney.”

Last summer Van de Donk visited her girlfriend's country for the first time. “That was after the European Championship, of course the two of us. I had a very good travel guide with her and saw very beautiful things. Ellie herself comes from the interior of New South Wales, a five-hour drive from Sydney. She lived there on a farm and even knows how to kill snakes. There was nothing else to do there at all. Fortunately, her parents now live in Sydney.”

"’Ellie woonde op een boerderij en weet hoe ze slangen moet killen’"

"'Ellie lived on a farm and knows how to kill snakes'"

Elke dag contact | Contact every day

Natuurlijk heeft ze contact met haar vriendin. Elke dag. Ze gunnen elkaar sportief het allerbeste, weet Van de Donk: „We willen allebei dat de ander ver komt. We kunnen elkaar pas in de finale tegenkomen. Wat een finale zou dat zijn.” Niet ondenkbaar: ze zouden elkaar in het veld zomaar kunnen tegenkomen. Van de Donk, stellig: „We gaan niet voor elkaar uit de weg. Oh nee, we gaan er gewoon vol op. Honderd procent.”

Of course she has contact with her girlfriend. Every day. They wish each other the very best sportingly, Van de Donk knows: “We both want the other to go far. We can't meet until the final. What a finale that would be.” Not unthinkable: they could just meet in the field. Van de Donk, firmly: “We do not shy away from each other. Oh no, we're just going full. One hundred percent.”

En na die, vooralsnog imaginaire finale, zal het vast wel goed komen tussen de tortelduifjes, vermoedt Van de Donk, die zich wellicht ooit nog eens met haar Ellie in Australië zal gaan vestigen. „Het zou kunnen, maar niets is zeker. Het is best gek. Ik denk nu eigenlijk: ik ga waar zij gaat. Ze is een stuk jonger dan ik, dus ik denk dat zij langer blijft voetballen. Uiteindelijk zal ik dus wel mee moeten. Zo staan we er eigenlijk beiden in. Of het nou Australië wordt of Nederland, of van mijn part Italië, we zien het wel. Als we maar samen zijn.”

And after that, for the time being imaginary finale, things will probably be fine among the lovebirds, suspects Van de Donk, who may one day settle in Australia with her Ellie. “It could be, but nothing is certain. It's pretty crazy. I actually think: I'm going where she goes. She's a lot younger than me, so I think she keeps playing football longer. So in the end I will have to come along. That's how we both are in it. Whether it will be Australia or the Netherlands, or of my part Italy, we'll see. As long as we are together.”

[thechainbreakingdreamweaver]

coilheart update:

well folks, we meet again at the doors to the sixth. the tournament of the body has completed, leaving the soldiers of skite in an upset victory. im honestly disappointed that the edgy new faction with no development won, but thats just me. the last two clues have surfaced, marking the last round of investigation. for those trying to get investigative journalist 21, now is the time to get it!

only one hour to go before the ending ceremony. i have amassed 250,000 coilheart renown throughtout the competitions, in case i need it to get a new equipment inside the sixth coil.

speaking of which, what is in dat dang ol' thang?

i personally think the "unsatisfying ending" from irem might come back to haunt us here, folks. this whole shebang stinks of fingerking.

ill post again soon to report the results of the ending tournament.

[disjointed-ass-tournament]

ROUND 1:

"And so, ladies and gentlemen, the moment I have been personally waiting for arrives. The first round of the tournament will start in a bit. Let's see which characters you have submitted!"

The sky enveloping the enormous arena lights up, revealing two figures on the respective ends of the fighting grounds.

"First off, weighing roughly 190 pounds, and with a reputation as a cool-headed sorcerer killer, we have Toji Fushiguro, from Jujutsu Kaisen!"

"In the other corner, weighing around 150 pounds, probably, we have the pseudo Australian Sniper, from Team Fortress 2."

"Looks like this will be a fight against two cold blooded assassins. What thrill! However, don't think you're job here is done just yet."

As the figure speaks towards a barely fathomable audience, a panel starts to rise upwards."

"This thing right here will allow you to vote for a contestant. Use it however you may prefer, but have in mind that whoever wins will receive a 'blessing' of sorts, gaining an advantage in the upcoming match."

"That should be everything. See you all in a bit!"

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Archives of The Cabal - The Secret Origin of "R"

@ladyofsappho You asked me for this months ago, and you're finally getting an answer. @missnight0wl if you're interested I would also be honored to hear your thoughts. @dat-silvers-girl I just tag you in everything I write by now.

I am not caught up on Beyond, and this will deviate from canon in general, but I have tried to combine my original ideas and head-canons with the established lore about The Cabal. Either way, this is my version of R's story, and it's gonna be a long one, my friend. Buckle up.

The story you're about to hear is heavily redacted. People have fought and died and lost themselves and done unspeakable things to contain the secrets written here. Records are, to put it lightly, hard to find. For that is the nature of R.

To properly explain who they are, what they want, and where they come from…one must take a walk through history. Because R is old. Very old. Centuries old. It was primarily the brainchild of two men, but what truly birthed The Cabal was the social and political situation of the magical world at the time the group was formed. Because it is and has always been intrinsically linked to the passing of the Statute of Secrecy. Without that bit of legislation, there simply is no Cabal. Furthermore, The Cabal has always had a vested interest in the Wizarding schools. So we’ll need to talk about the days before The Statute.  Before witches and wizards went underground. Back when the magical schools were still in grave danger. 

It started...with the school of magic known as Ruqyah.

Before the persecution from the muggles became a larger problem, the wizarding world experienced a period of prosperity that it would never see again. An era that magical historians would later describe as the “Golden Years” that are estimated to have begun at around the point Hogwarts was constructed at the turn of the millennium. During this time, magical education peaked. The wizarding schools in the world numbered thirty-two, with many advanced institutions rising. Their knowledge and power only grew as they reached out to one another and did collaborations, maintaining strong relationships across the globe. Traditions like the Triwizard Tournament sprung up during this time. At the height of enlightenment was the school known as Ruqyah in Egypt. Built into one of the Pyramids, Ruqyah was a haven of higher learning, famous across the world for producing the best Healers, Beastkeepers, and Magical Researchers. 

Though the school no longer exists in the present day, there was a time when every young Mage knew Ruqyah, and its unmistakable sigil - the Eye of Horus. Students from all over the world were permitted, even encouraged, to visit the school and participate in the education it offered. Whether it was for a week, a year, or even if they decided to enroll full time. Ruqyah pursued all sorts of goals, seeking knowledge and power. Theirs was the path to enlightenment and immortality - or so it was claimed. But only the truly bold, only those who had lived in the Pyramid for years ever dared to explore the Tombs of Ruqyah, which were said to be cursed. Supposedly inhabited by a malevolent spirit, who was only to be cowed by the presence of students and staff. It was said that they kept this being at bay by perpetuating the study of such pure magic. To many, these were just rumors, though Ruqyah Alums treated these stories with respect and many believed them in earnest. This was yet another reason such pride was taken in the education of the students. In the days of the Golden Years, Ruqyah was truly considered top class. 

But The Golden Years were never to last.

Though tension between the mages and the non-magical community had always been an issue, the problem only grew worse during the fifteenth century. The muggles were still licking their wounds after the terrible phenomenon known as The Black Death, which had suspiciously killed very few wizards, the overwhelming majority of its victims being non-magical. A story began to spread, the idea that wizardkind had created the Plague themselves and purposefully unleashed it onto the world. Whether or not there is any truth to this...difficult to say. The Black Death occurred centuries ago and any record of magical involvement, if indeed there was any, has long since been erased. During this time, Witch Hunting was becoming a very popular profession for a variety of reasons, (many of them religiously motivated) and Muggles soon began rallying together to form organized strikes at wizardkind. The conflict escalated beyond the Ministries’ control as witches and wizards who bore prejudice of their own took the opportunity to fight back. 

The conflict raged across the world like wildfire, with no end in sight for three hundred years. A period that became known as The Witch Hunter Wars. Ministries passed new laws, and magical schools shifted the focus of their curriculum's. Some began to prioritize subterfuge…others favored combat. Regrettably, wizarding culture became steeped in hatred and mistrust of the muggles. Even Ruqyah, beloved among wizardkind for the scholars it had produced…it too changed direction and began to train a generation of Dark Wizards who specialized in Curse-Breaking. Who learned the most unseemly of secrets, venturing further into the Tombs of Ruqyah than anyone had ever dared go. Some were even said to have met the demon at the heart of the Pyramid. 

But it was not enough. The magical community had always been dwarfed by their muggle counterparts. Through sheer numbers alone, the muggles always maintained the upper-hand, doing more and more damage as time went on. The war had destroyed any goodwill the magicals might have felt toward the muggles, and any witch or wizard associating with them was distrusted on principle. Common ground was no longer possible. Coexistence was no longer possible. By the end of the seventeenth century, several Wizarding Ministries had fallen, and over half of the known Wizarding Schools had been eradicated. Eventually, Ruqyah would join them. In 1679, the ancient and beloved school was stormed and destroyed by Witch Hunters. The following ten years, which later became known as “The Decade Without Hope” preempted a “Final Summit”  of the International Confederation of Wizards, who had decided at last that enough was enough. 

The Decade Without Hope

The Decade without Hope was…a dark time. The vast majority of the magical community believed that extinction loomed on the horizon. That the muggles would not stop until they were gone. Anguish and frustration gave over to hatred. Many young mages committed suicide. Others entered heavily populated muggle villages and sacrificed themselves by casting explosive curses. The future, if there was to be one at all, seemed bleak. The remaining witches and wizards turned on one another, looting and killing became common. Dark Wizards went unpunished, because who was left to punish them? What remained of the wizarding government had their hands full with the Witch Hunter Wars, with preparing the plans for the Final Summit. But these plans were to be interrupted by two dark wizards. Their names were Henri Jean Alerie…and Dai Ryusaki.

During the days before most of the Wizarding Schools were lost, it was relatively common for a student to spend more years in school, to attend more than one academy and graduate with honors from all of them.  Ryusaki was a Mahoutokoro Alum, and Alerie had attended Beauxbatons, but both had also been educated together at Ruqyah. They were two of the last students to graduate before the school was destroyed. Alerie and Ryusaki, who had become close friends, traveled the world together after their graduation to seek their fortune. The teachings of Ruqyah were long since corrupted, and these two old friends worked together as partners in crime. In doing so, they frequently communicated by letter, but to avoid detection should their letters fall into the wrong hands, they never added signatures. It had been a longstanding tradition at Ruqyah for the Headmaster, often known as “The Ruqyah” to sign his letters with the Eye of Horus symbol, which closely resembled the letter “R.” A technique that Alerie and Ryusaki appropriated for themselves as a code known only to them. 

Ryusaki's Gambit

After The Witch Hunter Wars, and the fall of several Ministries, there were many precious, dangerous magical artifacts in need of relocation. Due to the adaptive nature of magic, which is itself a living force, Dai Ryusaki and Henri Jean Alerie both knew that the remaining schools of magic would be safer than any Ministry. They were as of yet undiscovered by the muggles and seemingly small enough to fly under the radar. The only remaining school the Witch Hunters were aware of was Hogwarts, yet they seemed reluctant to strike the British school, possibly due to rumors that it was guarded by a terrible monster left behind by one of the Founders. 

Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries, as well as their contemporaries in other nations, had already concluded that any dwelling inhabited by multiple witches and wizards for several generations would eventually develop its own independent magical energy, and, in a sense, become a living thing. In the case of wizarding schools, the youthful magic of the students was even stronger, and more changeable. It was the very best chance. Ryusaki knew what needed to be done. He called upon the services of several people whom he trusted. They had graduated from the various remaining schools of magic and eventually rose to lead them, but before that, they had been part of the final classes to study at Ruqyah and were originally Curse-Breakers by trade. Over the years, Ryusaki had maintained correspondence with all of them. 

He reached out to Inacio Campos, of Castelobruxo, Zuri Adesina of Ugadou, Sigrid Jorgensen of Durmstrang, Tatiana Morozov of Koldovstoretz, and Hamish Fawley of Hogwarts. There was some reluctance once his colleagues discovered his past misdeeds, but Ryusaki convinced them that his plan was in the best interests of wizardkind, that he was merely trying to repent. Henri Jean Alerie was only too happy to represent Beauxbatons in this endeavor, as Ryusaki represented Mahoutokoro. In time, the two men secured themselves as Headmasters of their respective schools. The only representatives who were not in attendance were Morozov and Fawley. Morozov was disgusted by Ryusaki’s crimes and refused to join the alliance, and with her, the Russian school withdrew from the plan. Fawley expressed agreement with the plan, but was unwilling to play any part in it. Hamish Fawley was gravely ill, afflicted with a mysterious curse from the time he was born. As a result, not only did he have limited time and energy, but he wanted nothing to do with Cursed Artifacts or Curses as a whole. Privately, Alerie maintained correspondence with Fawley, offering his sympathies. 

The other representatives went along with this plan, deciding to trust Ryusaki, as he seemed honest…though many of them did not fully trust Alerie. Which was ironic, as he played a crucial part of the plan. It was he who staged the near destruction of the Lebanese Ministry of Magic, where the International Confederation of Wizards had sent them for safekeeping. Using the Imperius Curse to gain access to the heart of the Lebanese Ministry, so the new alliance could steal the Artifacts. Thereafter, Ryusaki waited until the building was empty to cast a terrible fire, a Dark Spell, to make it seem as though the Witch Hunters had struck again, and the artifacts destroyed in the fire. In truth, each of them took possession of one and pledged to guard it indefinitely. To do so, they used their schools. Infused with emergent magical energy that was fueled by generations of children, this alliance truly believed there was nowhere safer. They had all studied at Ruqyah at one point or another. They all knew of the Tombs, those that guarded unspeakable Dark Arts and a nameless Demon. 

Within the schools of the Alliance, secret chambers were constructed to house the artifacts, similar to the Tombs. The enchantments and curses placed on these ”Vaults” did not remain stagnant. Left alone, they grew like ivy, evolving and growing in strength over the years. Until, or so they hoped and planned, these secret Cursed Vaults and the treasures they guarded would be forgotten and lost to time. Plotting a strike on a Wizarding Ministry and the theft of the most dangerous artifacts in the world is no small feat. It took the better part of two years to plan, and during this time, the Alliance would communicate with each other using the secrecy they had learned from Ryusaki and Alerie. Signing all of their letters with nothing but the Eye of Horus, represented on the parchment as the letter “R” In time, this group came to refer to itself as Ruqyah, or simply “R” as a coded version - taking the name of the fallen school in an effort to honor the ideals and traditions that were lost. They began wearing red cloaks for subterfuge, echoing the school uniform of the ancient pyramid. Ryusaki could not partake, for he had "turned white" as they say in Mahoutokoro, long ago. His robes would always reflect his sin.

After the Artifacts were hidden, the members of this new faction did not see each other for many years, only communicating through further messages likewise written in code. They had pledged to protect the world from the most powerful and unstable kinds of magic. They knew what kind of danger the Artifacts might have posed if they had fallen into the wrong hands - magical or mundane. Yet during this time, Ryusaki had begun to see the world anew, as he poured himself deeper into magical philosophy. The Mahoutokoro Headmaster had never been wholly evil, and through his efforts with R, he had undergone a change of heart. Feeling remorse for his crimes and resolving to change his ways. Ryusaki dedicated his life to reforming, going so far as to reinvent the dark spells he had learned in Egypt to make them better. He even reinvented the dark spell he had used to destroy the Lebanese Ministry, turning it into the defensive curse known as Protego Diabolica. To the point of willingly turning himself over to the authorities for his various criminal acts - though he did not breathe a word of the artifacts, their locations, or the existence of R. 

Alerie, however, went in a different direction.

With access to one of the deadly artifacts, he was free to study it during his spare time running Beauxbatons. During the Decade Without Hope, he continued studies into the most obscure and forbidden branches of magic. Crafting spells, objects, and potions of immense and terrible power. Drowning himself in the rarest and most dangerous enchantments. He went as far as to return to the ruins of Ruqyah and attempt to seek out the malevolent spirit hidden within the pyramid’s depths, thinking he could use its power for himself. But with the school long since abandoned, there was nothing and no one left to guard the entity, who had flourished in the time since Ruqyah’s fall. No one is quite certain what happened to Alerie in the heart of the pyramid. But he was never the same afterward. Some say he went mad, and perhaps he did. But the encounter changed him on a fundamental level. He returned to Beauxbatons wearing a strange amulet and and boasting of how his “third eye” had been opened. 

The Crown of Mneme

The International Confederation of Wizards were not blind, they could see that Ryusaki was no longer a danger to the magical world and knew they could make good use of his brilliance - so they made him an offer - to be pardoned for all his past crimes and receive lifelong immunity for any future crimes. In return, they commissioned him to craft a powerful spell that would allow the caster to reshape the minds of others on a massive scale. They invited him to the Final Summit, which was to be held in the Kingdom of Bhutan, to use this magic in a special ceremony. Ryusaki flatly refused such a prospect, until The Confederation fully explained their reasoning. 

During this time period, The Confederation was certainly not loved. Much of wizardkind believed that the horrid state of affairs was in no small part due to their inaction and poor decision making. Most did not believe that the Confederation would be able to save the wizarding community. But there were others. Clever mages of higher learning who understood the politics, who were near enough to the inner circle for the whispers and rumors to have leaked down to them. Long before the Statute of Secrecy was signed, many saw it coming. For it was becoming common practice more and more to live a double life, to hide one’s magic from any nearby muggles. Nevertheless, secrecy was paramount. The Witch Hunters could not be allowed to catch wind of this plan. The Final Summit was risky in general. To put all the most important members of the Confederation together, all in one room, was dangerous. Should the Witch Hunters discover that this meeting was to take place, should they strike during the Summit, they would wipe out the Confederation and with it, the last hope for wizardkind. Yet they took a chance and trusted Dai Ryusaki with knowledge of this plan. 

After some consideration,  he agreed to the Confederation’s offer. He set to work, using all of his magical knowledge and skill in the effort to make the Statute of Secrecy possible. Aided by his old friend Alerie, not realizing that Alerie had plans of his own. Yet as he worked, Ryusaki lamented the fate of wizardkind, doomed to hide away forever…until he had an epiphany. The answer came to him in a stroke of genius. A way to unite both worlds without conflict or bloodshed. Thoughtlessly, he shared his brainchild with Alerie via one of their many coded letters, who then joined him in celebration. In time, Ryusaki crafted the artifact known as The Crown of Mneme. With it, he and Alerie brewed a special potion designed to amplify the Crown’s power when the two were combined. The ingredients for this potion were a closely guarded secret, and the two old friends only ever wrote them down once, on an ancient scroll. These efforts bore fruit, and Ryusaki tested the Crown’s power by treating the trauma of his students at Mahoutokoro. However, attempting to heal the pains and trials of his friend Alerie revealed the horror within his soul, and Ryusaki recoiled. He attempted to excise this evil from his friend, but Alerie escaped. 

Regrettably, this discovery sealed Ryusaki’s fate. Alerie could not allow any to learn the truth of what he had seen, of his heritage. The Demon who had hidden in the Tombs of Rugyah for so many years, who now ruled the pyramid in silence…was in truth, a magical creature known as an Ifrit. Precious little is known about them and in the seventeenth century wizards knew little and less. But such an entity is classified as a “non-being” similar to boggarts or dementors, and the Ifrit is highly dangerous. Rarely seen in the West, an Ifrit can live for millennia, and use that time to gradually corrupt the souls of mages around them, yet having no effect on muggles. Long ago, the founders of Ruqyah crossed swords with an Ifrit, bravely fighting the creature and trapping it in an ancient tomb. Building a pyramid around the demon to keep it sealed away, and the prison evolved through the years, becoming one of the most famous wizarding schools of all time. It was always the job of the Headmaster, “The Ruqyah,” to contain the Ifrit.

Alerie had met The Ifrit. The enchantments on the Pyramid prevented it from escaping altogether, but once the last Ruqyah had died, the Ifrit’s magic grew stronger. Before, Headmasters had wielded The Eye of Horus to “block” out the Ifrit’s third eye, which has sometimes been referred to as the “evil eye.” For the Ifrit’s third eye grants them powers such as legilimency, and worse. They can attack and devastate the minds of mortals. Alerie had an encounter with this non-being while it was near full power, and the course of his life became set in stone. For the Ifrit had revealed a shattering truth - many times in the past, it had taken human witches as lovers, one of whom was Alerie’s own mother. Henri Jean Alerie was only half human. The Amulet he wore had been created by the Ifrit some time ago, and it had been given to Alerie as inheritance. In years to come, his seemingly endless longevity and his fearsome talent with the Dark Arts could both be attributed to his heritage. Alerie had left the pyramid a different man, and when Ryusaki discovered the horrors hidden in his soul, he vowed to save his old friend. But Alerie had already decided that Ryusaki could not be allowed to live.

The Final Summit

Ten years after the Fall of Ruqyah, the Confederation met in secret for the Final Summit, in the Kingdom of Bhutan. To discuss their plans, and most importantly, to gauge how successful Ryusaki had been at the task they had given him. The group of mages met and conversed for many days to determine the future of their kind. During this time, when Ryusaki was called upon to present his invention, he instead proposed an alternative solution. He painted a picture for his fellow wizards, describing the utopia in his mind. A world where there was no difference between the magical and mundane. A peaceful, enlightened world where every child born would be blessed with magic. If the Crown could be used for this purpose, there would be no need for secrecy. No need for conflict - no real possibility of another war. The Confederation nervously laughed off such wild delusions and dismissed Ryusaki as a radical before demanding that he relinquish the Crown. When Ryusaki refused, things quickly devolved into chaos. 

Ryusaki knew that he could not surrender the Crown, not until he had used it to save the world. The magical community would not hide themselves. They would join hands with their muggle brethren, and together they would expel the forces of evil - creatures like the Ifrit hiding in Ruqyah. The world needed to know about this danger, and that his old friend had already been corrupted by it. Determined to uphold the legacy of what Ruqyah had once been, Ryusaki, who was now on the run, called upon the services of R. A loyal man, Ryusaki expected the Headmasters of the remaining magical schools, the Guardians of the Artifacts, would come to his aid, as he would have done for them. But by then, it was too late.

Alerie had gotten to them first.

As a member of R, he had contacted the others and met with them to discuss the situation. Painting a very different version of events. Alerie claimed Ryusaki’s atonement was a lie. That he had been deceiving the others, and that his sanity slipped further and further toward madness with each passing day. That he had created another deadly Artifact, like the ones R had hidden, and the Confederation was now hunting him. Though the others doubted his tale at first, rumors of Ryusaki’s exploits were spreading, as Alerie’s next visit had been to see the Confederation. With Ryusaki on the run, Alerie had approached them. He offered to do the job that Ryusaki would not, in exchange for the same reward - lifetime immunity from prosecution. The Confederation, who had no other cards left to play, agreed to his terms - none of them having any idea just how long Alerie would live.

Ryusaki’s reputation was soon smeared by the remaining Ministries, in an attempt to discredit him and prevent him from garnering sympathy. His past misdeeds as a Dark Wizard were regularly brought up by his enemies and those who wished to apprehend him and the Crown. The remaining members of R came to believe Alerie’s stories were true, particularly as his newest ally corroborated them. Hamish Fawley, who had previously refused to join R, now accepted full membership and pledged to help stop Ryusaki and hide the Crown of Mneme at Hogwarts, just as the other Headmasters had done in their own schools. Alerie had approached Fawley separately and cut a deal with him on the side. Proposing that the Crown could be used to heal Fawley’s illness and break the Curse on him. Blind with hope, Fawley would have said or done anything that Alerie bid. 

Ryusaki had only one friend left he could turn to - or so he thought. The International Confederation could not be trusted. Ruqyah’s members had all abandoned him. But despite the evil in Alerie’s soul, Ryusaki believed he was still a good man beneath it all, and this faith was seemingly rewarded when Alerie appeared like a miracle and helped Ryusaki escape a team of Aurors. The two friends reconciled, and it was at this time that Alerie gave Ryusaki the amulet that he wore, seemingly as a sentimental gift. Ryusaki went on to explain his plan to Alerie. From the shadows, he had worked tirelessly, trying to discover a way to graph magic from a witch or wizard onto a muggle. As he refused to use live subjects or do anything that risked harm to the innocent, his methods were slow and inefficient. There was only one thing left to try - The Crown. Using its power to project magic onto every human in the world by using the wearer as a template. It would never have worked, and Alerie knew this. But Ryusaki was blind with hope, and insisted on acting as the Template himself, just as Alerie planned. 

Together, the two men brewed the special mind-enhancing potion necessary to use the Crown on a global scale. Alerie placed the Crown on Ryusaki’s head. Yet as the power began to overwhelm him, Ryusaki was suddenly struck in the back by his oldest friend. The two began to duel. It was during this time that, in the struggle, the Scroll containing the ingredients for Ryusaki’s special mind enhancing potion was torn in half, with each of the men taking one piece. Ryusaki had no strength, the Crown had drained him like a battery, and he had no choice but to take it off, to leave it behind. Yet using the last of his energy, Ryusaki fled, and hid his half of the Scroll. Rather than pursue him, Alerie claimed The Crown, before sending the same team of Aurors - who had been on his payroll the whole time - to apprehend the wounded Ryusaki. 

Alerie brought the Crown back to the Magisterial Chamber of Ancient Wizardry, as promised. It was here that the members of the Confederation cast a vote, and soon emerged from their talks with a signed document known as the International Statute of Secrecy, marking the official end of The Witch Hunter Wars. Alerie wielded the power of The Crown of Mneme. With it, he caused all the muggles to forget magic was ever real. The two worlds became permanently divided, and Ryusaki's hopes of a utopia of enlightenment and immortality, a world where everyone had magic - went up in smoke. His dreams died with him, as he was executed for a Dark Wizard shortly thereafter, still wearing the amulet Alerie had given him as a last gift. It is said that the amulet was cursed, and that before his death, Ryusaki's jailers tortured him. By the time he died, Ryusaki's resentment of the Confederation had intensified, their betrayal, to say nothing of Alerie's betrayal, burned him to his last cinder. With Ryusaki's death, Alerie moved to seize control of R. He proposed that the group be managed by an elected leader, like the Ruqyahs of old. His influence grew further as he was unanimously voted to become the new "R."

With no means to fulfill his promise to Fawley, Alerie blamed Ryusaki for stealing half of the Dark Scroll. But there could be no hope of brewing the Mind Enhancing Potion again without it, and without the Potion, the Crown was too unstable to use. Therefore, Alerie reluctantly handed it over to Fawley to keep the peace, and it was hidden in a secret Vault at the bottom of the Hogwarts' Black Lake. Guarded by a dark spell that Alerie himself had always favored. The new "R" continued to revolutionize, with Alerie and the others gathering more and more recruits, as well as beginning to infiltrate the rising Ministries in addition to the magical schools. Meanwhile, Hamish Fawley made a groundbreaking discovery. The magic in his soul, that which came from the Curse afflicting him, contained the raw, un-concentrated power of unstable magic, but this magic could be harvested. If Fawley could be born with such a Curse, so could anyone else...including muggles, and this Curse might just endow them with enough magic to no longer be considered muggles. Ryusaki's dream was not dead after all.

Fawley and Alerie clashed for years to come, with Fawley questioning Alerie's leadership at every turn, and how much it differed from Ryusaki's vision. Until Alerie's mask slipped and he showed his true colors. Fawley and Alerie got into a fight and Alerie lost his temper, exposing his inhuman power in front of multiple "R" members. With no other choice, Alerie was forced to flee, to disappear, leaving Hamish Fawley to be elected the new leader of Ruqyah. He burned away the rest of his life trying in vain to solve Ryusaki's equation - to turn a muggle into a wizard. He died without success, however, his bloodline remained in R, and served as Leaders more often than they did not. Eventually, Fawley's descendant - a boy called Jacob, discovered the existence of R.

As for Alerie, he resurfaced many times under many pseudonyms over the years, influencing events. Working to free his father, to influence The Cabal from afar. The Amulet served him well in this endeavor. Eventually, he would reestablish direct contact with Fawley's descendants, and Jacob's Sibling would come to known him personally. But by then, he was using yet another name...

Under the moniker of Elton Elderberry, Ministry Archivist, Henri Jean Alerie continues to influence events.

[boomer293]

A Conversation Between Friends:

Short story propaganda featuring Wilder and @tatonslice 's Galacchio for this year's @kirbyoctournament))

"I don't know about this, Wilder. There's so many people here, and they're so strong too." Galacchio shivered, sticking close to the only person he knows here.

"Aw! It's not all bad. Everyone I've met had been nice, so far." Wilder adjusted his hat as he pat Galacchio on the back. It had been too long since the both of them did anything substantial together, though he didn't expect a tournament of this caliber to be the thing that brought them back together again.

"Yeah, I guess you're right..." Galacchio wasn't too comfortable with the idea of leaving his home for long, staying somewhere else overnight never went well due to his curse.

"Have ye even talked to anyone yet? I keep seeing ya mope around like a sad sack o' potatoes."

"H-Hey! You know I don't like big events like this. I only joined because I knew you were signing up."

"That's whatcha said last time I took ya down to the rodeo back home! You're warming up to this type o' thing, I know it." Wilder gave a playful jab to Galacchio's side, who in return bonked them on the head lightly with his wand.

"Whatever...who have you even talked to then?"

"Well..." Wilder hesitated as he tried to recall who he's even seen before. "I think a few of the organizers, and there was this one guy in green and red, they were all pretty cool though."

"That's not even that many! You can't get on my case about this then!" Galacchio grumbled as Wilder just laughed, they both missed this sort of banter.

"Well if you keep moping around, you won't ever catch up to me! Let loose partner! It's safe here." Wilder put a hand around Galacchio in a side hug, both of them now giggling a bit, even if Galacchio is just matching Wilder's infectious energy.

"I mean I can try, it's not like I'll be around for long though. The first round has already started right? I doubt I'm making it through..." Galacchio turned away from Wilder, about to zone out and let the time pass, but Wilder gripped his cloak and continued talking.

"What! Yer crazy, partner! You got a great chance 'ere."

"Nobody knows who we are, Wilder! You know how much popularity plays into this stuff."

"And? Ye look freakin' dashing! As much as ye like to deny it, you stand out. In a good way! Voters'll love that!"

Galacchio couldn't help but go a bit wide eyed, and blush just a bit. Wilder sure was blunt, probably not even aware of the implications of what he said.

"Yer awesome too!" Wilder continued. "Get to know ya, and ye can be the most hilarious guy ever!"

Wilder beamed, even though he was just stating what he thought was obvious, it was a nice confidence booster for Galacchio.

"Thanks, Wilder. I think you'll do good too, you always know what to say to people. I don't think you'll have trouble convincing people to vote for you."

Wilder swirled his whip around. "I know that already! It's good to hear dat coming from you though!"

Galacchio frowned from the lack of reaction. "You're full of yourself, you know that?"

"Well! Ye gotta be proud o' who you are! I bet ye'd be unstoppable with a bit more self confidence."

"...Where would I be without you, Wilder?"

"Well for starters, not here, haha!"

The two friends broke into a giggling fit once again, enjoying each other's company.

"I'll help introduce ya to some people, maybe there's someone here who could help ye out with your...you know...insomnia."

"It's a curse, you can say it how it is."

"It still feels wrong though, even after all this time. It's touchy ya know?"

"Forget that...I'll just meet people for the sake of meeting them. Though, I hope you'll be there to help."

"Why wouldn't I? We'll rock this thing, I just know it!"

Both friends nodded to each other. With Galacchio's resolve strengthened and Wilder's worry for his buddy gone, they both agreed to take the tournament head on. No matter the outcome, they were going to have some fun...

"...Wait, Wilder?"

"Hmm, what's up?"

"What if we have to face each other?"

"...Then I'll kick your butt!"

"What? No way, you're the one person I'd never lose to!"

...Even if that fun gets pretty competitive.

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 28/02/2024

Crank Dat City (2016)

Season 4 Episode 2 Featured on: Sensational Celebrations ~ The SiIvaSummer All​-​Star Festival Collection [Event Side]

Ripped by adumb, ChickenSuitGuy, RHMan

Requested by minindo!

Hot off the heels of covering his magnum opus, the next rip in line just so happened to be one requested by minindo himself, one that I'd somehow never heard before. That did genuinely surprise me, because it was effectively the grand finale to one of my favorite surprise mini-events: the celebration for Dat Boi! Remember him? Remember Koopa Street? Yeah, after a whole day of remembering this dumb meme from such a strange period of the internet, it was all wrapped up with Crank Dat City (2016).

Funny enough, this is actually the second rip of Crisis City from Sonic 06 I've covered, after THIS. IS. SOLEANNA. I think the strength of both rips is evident from just the first few seconds of listening - the prominence of the song's lead synth makes any replacement or addition to it way funnier as a result. In THIS. IS. SOLEANNA that was done to replicate the style of Sparta Remixes, and a month therafter Crank Dat City (2016) builds on it in the most natural way possible - Dat Boi's smashing steel drums setting the stage for a very funny rip right off the bat. Yet the rip doesn't ever settle into a groove, for as funny as that bit alone is. We've got segments of odd jokes from all over internet culture featured here, including a surprise appearance of Goomba Got Back before its hit album release in Season 7, a hint of letting the Bodies hit the floor, a segment with Big Shaq's Man's Not Hot...

Its hard to draw much of a throughline with these jokes, but if there was to be one...I feel like most of them fall into the category of feeling "forgotten" about, in that they're well past their prime time of being considered funny. Bodies was, much like Paralyzer of YACKER TOILET fame, an icon of the old internet, yet one that seems to have been left behind by the passage of time - similarly, Goomba Got Back at one pointed seemed like a...not-terrible and kind of funny way to respond to the criticisms Gaijin Goombah was receiving, but now looks incredibly immature and bizarre to look back on in retrospect. The list goes on, but Crank Dat City (2016) doesn't really linger on them too much, far more invested in fun celebration above all else.

Because that's what was so much fun about Season 4 Episode 2's SummerFes, and the Season in general - ironic, genuine, old or new, it was all just one big party lasting for so many weeks of the summer, as such a befitting sendoff to the King for Another Day tournament the year prior. I could try to delve as far into Crank Dat City (2016) as possible, but when push comes to shove - its here for a good time, and succeeds at that in spades.

[pepita-luna]

Much has already been said about the Live Action adaptation, but I'm adding in my thoughts because I'm in a meeting that I don't really care at all about, and I'm on a YYH brain rot. 💖

Overall, I like it for what it is: an interesting retelling of Yuyu Hakusho. I didn't find the CGIs too distracting, the color grading feels nostalgic, the fight choreography is very on point, I immediately took to all the actors and felt that they delivered, and I could see the care in the little details like lines and sequences that they picked from the Manga and some few from the anime. The first two episodes is good and hooks you in, but the latter episodes suffered from the pacing. I'd compare it to having a 5-course meal, with the last 3 courses being fed to you in succession. And because the show was busy feeding you plot points it forgets emotional resonance. With better pacing, I think this would have been better. That said, I'd give this a 7/10.

I have other thoughts but if anyone cares, maybe it will be nice to talk about this LA or just YYH in general. 😊

MORE SPOILER HEAVY THOUGHTS UNDER THE CUT! (will be edited as more thoughts come along) 👉🏼 💥

👉🏼 I recognize that I may be an outlier here, but I feel that by combining the first four arcs, it makes the story more cohesive. It hits on the necessary plot points to get to the climax of YYH - finding out about the corruption of the spirit world. Paced appropriately this probably would have Toguro as the red herring big bad of the show but ultimately have it all lead to Sensui.

👉🏼 And also budget. And more episodes.

👉🏼 While I was sad over not having the Dark Tournament I sat with it for awhile and realized that it's fine. If granted a few more seasons, the 3 Kings Arc can have this handled (then maybe it might not feel so empty, lol)

👉🏼 The pacing really took a lot from the emotional pay-off in the last two episodes. I want more interactions! Esp between the four. Yusuke and Kuwabara really had a good rapport. It's nice to know the actors became close with each other IRL too.

👉🏼 Keiko and Yukina interacting is so endearing to me. ❤️

👉🏼 IDC what anyone says Botan's outfit is fucking beautiful. Those piercings and peep toe boots? Amazing.

👉🏼 Although I have to say that some of the outfits (esp the ones in the Casino at Ep. 1) feel weird and make it hard to place this adaptation.

👉🏼 I love that, even though we don't get a lot of interactions between Yusuke and Keiko, the Live Action highlights gets the core of their relationship. More than just Yusuke's childhood friend and voice of reason, Keiko is his moral compass and sees him for who he is.

👉🏼 MAN MEIKO KAIJI FOR ONE EPISODE CMON. 😭 But that just tells me that this adaptation might have ultimately edited certain parts or re wrote the script to cut the train arc so early because of budgetary constraints. You can't convince me that they had Lady Snowblood only to utilize her for a short time.

👉🏼 Dat Smile Bomb Easter egg really hit me in my kokoro. 💖

[43110there]

The Tournament

Pairing: None...??? Rex/Reader if you squint. Not that hard, really. oops

Summary: You train with some of the best in the 501st legion in a tournament they came up with.

Warnings: light sparring violence, dats it

A/N: I almost made this character a natborn medic, but I decided against it. It just felt off, so I'm choosing to be vague about Y/N's professional relationship to the clones. A better explanation will appear in another fic, I'm sure (OC time???)

Hope it's not too dry. Just luv da boys. Enjoy! <3

~

"Three, two," the countdown began.

Your eyes gleamed behind two, wrapped knuckles raised in a fighting position. The sparring mat gently sunk beneath your weight with tears and years of use. You kept your stance wide and your breathing steady. Fives shot you a grin and winked, forming his own stance across from you.

"Good luck, soldier," he teased.

"One,"

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Go!"

This training exercise was quickly growing popular among the clones, specifically in the 501st legion. It started off as a one-on-one with Captain Rex, who practiced with his brothers in hand-to-hand combat whenever it was appropriate. As time went on, the troopers wanted to further test their abilities against each other. Fives started keeping track of the wins and losses, boasting about his scores with the rest of the legion. Jesse and Echo were having none of it, which soon led to tournament days. After training with these troopers for so long, it was no surprise that you were invited to participate. Instead of wearing full sets of armor, competitors opted to wear their blacks along with some light sparring armor.

You learned in previous training sessions that Fives was not the most thoughtful fighter. He fought with a great deal of passion, a feature that greatly outweighed his patience. But Echo wasn't sitting on the sidelines for nothing, massaging tender limbs. You were up in the following round, and you had to take Fives down. For everyone's sake, if not the danger of Fives' obnoxious ego.

He began taking swings at you the moment the match started. You blocked as many as you could with your forearms, covering your face from the back to back blows. Your body was going to regret it later for sure, so you cherished the concentrated look on Fives' face as he watched you endure the hits. But you both knew you could only take so much. With one quick shove he sent you stumbling back. Before you could recover, he caught your jaw in a nasty left hook. Your face hit the floor with a loud smack, and you struggled to push yourself to your feet.

"Don't take it too hard," Fives smirked, "if I win this one. There's always next time."

He eased his posture while he spoke, waiting for you to get up. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Rex mark the small score board in his hands.

"Come on, Y/N!" Jesse shouted. He sat next to Echo, who looked like he'd rather be in another room sleeping. Kix stood off to the side with a few other spectators, arms crossed.

"Remember, any remarkable injury counts as a penalty," Kix warned. "I don't want to send anyone to–"

"GO Y/N!" Jesse roared, followed by the cheers of the small crowd that had gathered, when you kicked Fives square in the chest. Your force caught him off guard, causing him to stumble back a few feet. Any remanence of Kix's words died out as your movement increased, pushing the match to the edges of the mat. The medic grumbled to himself while Rex suppressed a smile, marking up points for your comeback.

The banter from Fives ceased as he put all of his concentration into countering your advances. You swung and ducked, not letting him get another hit on you. He blocked your swings and stepped back towards the center of the mat, but his footing became unsteady. Without thinking, you sidestepped Fives next swing, his right hand whizzing past you. You kicked your leg out beneath him and felt his full weight catch on it. In the span of a few seconds, Fives was sprawled out on the floor. The training room was buzzing as you knelt down beside him and tapped his head, racking up more points to your score.

"And that's time!" Kix announced. Rex showed him the points on the score board before he added: "Looks like Y/N wins this round!"

Jesse grinned and held out a palm to Dogma, who passed him a few credits. Echo just smiled from ear to ear at you as you rose to your feet.

"That might count as a penalty, Y/N," he chuckled. His laugh infected his next few words. "I don't know if Fives' pride will recover."

"Alright, alright!" Fives grumbled. His tone sent you into your own fit of laughter. You received a few pats on the back from the other clones, distracting you from the progression of the tournament.

"Guess that means I'm next."

The chatter died down as Rex stepped forward. The laughter faded on your lips as Rex handed Kix the score board and joined you on the training mat. You swore Fives almost looked relieved that he had lost. He plopped himself between Jesse and Echo.

"Oh Kriff this is gonna be good–" Fives began, before receiving a smack to the head from Jesse and Echo simultaneously.

"Cut it out and watch!"

While the banter ensued, Rex began wrapping his own knuckles to match yours. You didn't bother checking your own. Instead, you stared at Rex like he was a newly discovered species.

"Nervous?" he asked, tying off the wraps on his right hand. His voice was quiet enough to keep it between the two of you. Normally, the calm rumble of his voice was soothing. But it hardly reached your ears. You couldn't decide which was worse, the fact that Rex was going to experience your technique (or lack thereof) firsthand, or that you might not even last another whole match.

You scoffed, trying to play it cool. Rex cocked an eyebrow at that. You cleared your throat and nodded.

"Yes. Very."

He chuckled. His finished wrapping his left hand and flexed it.

"You'll do fine." His eyes flickered up to yours. "You fight pretty well."

Any other day and your spirits would have soared. Instead you gave him a tight smile. "Thanks, Rex."

"Ready?" Kix asked. It seemed to be more of an announcement than a question. You and Rex nodded. You hardly registered the countdown while you met the captain's gaze. You hoped you didn't look as nervous as you felt.

"Go!"

You're not sure why you expected Rex to be slower to initiate the fight than Fives. As Rex started landing blows, you realized that he wasn't impatient like your former opponent was. Each movement was deliberate. You quickly realized you would need to put more effort in completely dodging his attacks if you were going to last. You sidestepped, landed a quick hit to his shoulder, and put some space between you. Rex watched your movements and smirked.

"Going somewhere?" he muttered.

"Just taking my time." You breathed. "No need to rush."

The rest of the clones watched in silence. Not even Fives made any comments as Rex quickly closed the distance between you.

He swung, you ducked. You sprung back up, your fist colliding with his cheek. The quick blow raised your spirits, but he made quick work of your advances. In a matter of seconds he sent you flying to the mat. It was a rough fall, one that had your head throbbing. Once you sat up and gathered your bearings again, you saw that Rex had frozen up.

Is he worried? You thought. His physique and stance didn't match the soft, scared look he was giving you. He turned to Kix, and your gut told you he was going to cut the round short. You scrambled to your feet.

"Don't you dare!" Rex's head snapped back to you, and you grinned. "Round's not done."

Rex's eyes gleamed, still with a concerned glint to them. He really looked like a puppy, you thought, when he wasn't pummeling his opponents into the ground. He slowly resumed a fighting stance.

"Ok," he said.

And so the fight dragged on and on. One second you were on your feet, and the next the room blurred around you. For the third time, you were thrown flat on your back. You wheezed, watching Rex panting above you. When you stayed put, he turned again to Kix. The clone medic was checking the clock, and you realized you were close to time.

You knew that score board was not marked in your favor, but the adrenaline coursing through your body pushed the thought aside. Your limbs burned as you managed to lock your legs behind Rex's feet. Before he could react, you kicked his feet out from under him. Rex landed on his back with a loud thud. The whole room sucked in a breath.

"Time!"

You lay there on the mat for a little while. You heard a bit of shuffling from Rex's side. Eventually you propped yourself on your elbows to find him staring at you. He looked completely flustered. You realized that, regardless of how the points added up, you had managed to surprise him.

"The winner for the final round in the tournament is Rex!" Kix announced, but the audience was already cheering. Your eyes never left Rex as he stood up and offered you a hand.

"Y/N, you did well," he said. He pulled you up and seemed to freeze again, at a loss for words. Before either of you could say anything, Jesse clapped you on the back, making you wince.

"Y/N, that was incredible!"

"We knew you couldn't beat our captain," Fives shrugged. "But it was a good effort."

"We can get Kix to do a checkup on you," Echo offered. You almost laughed when Rex's expression immediately contorted with concern.

"I think I'm fine, nothing a good night's sleep can't fix," you waved them off.

"Make that a couple of nights." Echo agreed, rolling his shoulder with a groan.

"You're a bunch of shinies if you're spent after a good ol' tournament day!" Fives laughed, straightening his posture. "I could go for another round or two."

The comment came with a price. Jesse cashed it in by giving him another smack on the back of his head. "Oh give us a break. You'll feel it tomorrow."

They made their way out of the training room with the others. You made to join them, when your wrist was tugged back. You swiveled to see Rex looking at you, then down at the mat. Then back at you.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He pressed. "I didn't mean to be too rough, but if I was I need you to let me know–"

"Rex." You stopped him. His eyes stayed on yours this time. "I'm ok, I promise. I wouldn't have wanted you to go easy on me, anyway."

Eventually he nodded and let go of your wrist.

"Besides, you'll have to get used to not holding back. I don't know when the next tournament day is, but I'll be ready for it," you smirked. You pat him on the shoulder and began following the others. He quickly joined you. He looked thoughtful while he walked beside you, and you were prompted to ask him what was on his mind when he spoke first.

"Right," he said. "As if I'd let you reach the top on your second tournament day."

And from there on out, you couldn't wait for the next one.