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artificialqueens · 2 years

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Bitch Fight, Ch.15 (Multi; Jela) - Lita

Welcome to the world of Femme Fatale Wrestling. The future is female, and we're here to prove it.

A/N: Sorry for the HUGE break in posting, I've been in uni deadline hell for the last month but we're out of it now and we're celebrating with this HORRIBLY depressing chapter lmao. Okay, it's not all grim, but I sure do like making Dela sad, huh? Enjoy loves <3<3

CW: disordered eating; lots of body image talk including weights/numbers

CHAPTER 15: PLEASE DON'T GO

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Looking at you like what?” Dela asks, sincerely confused. Jinkx sits across the table from her, her hands clasped around her mug of coffee.

“Like I smell bad or something,” Jinkx gives a small laugh.

“It’s not you - I have buyer’s remorse,” Dela admits, apathetically pushing her half-finished egg white omelet around her plate with her fork. Oh to be twenty-one and able to exist primarily on french fries and vodka without spilling out of her clothes again. “This is really gross. I miss bread.”

Dela’s eyebrows crease as she puts her fork down. She’s a little over a week into some bullshit low-carb diet thing, and it’s obliterating her will to live.

“Then eat some fucking bread - you wanted the French toast. Nothing’s stopping you.”

“I can’t.”

“Dela, I don’t know why you bother with this shit. You’re torturing yourself for no reason,” Jinkx says, emphatically taking the final bite of her pancakes.

“It’s not for no reason,” Dela says, not entirely sure she believes herself. “Nobody wants to look at a gross forty-year old in a singlet - it’s damage control.”

“You’re not gross. And since when did you wear singlets?” Jinkx looks puzzled.

Since Bill had told her she was getting too old to be wearing two-pieces about six months ago. Not like she was going to tell Jinkx that. He had a point. She was pushing a hundred and ninety pounds; despite constantly arguing with herself that muscle mass had to account for some of that, it still made her feel a little sick.

Jinkx nudges her from across the table, trying to prompt her to answer the question.

“French toast before working out feels counterintuitive,” she eventually says, aware that she’s not even come close to giving her a real answer, and hoping that Jinkx doesn’t press the issue.

“It cancels out,” Jinkx shrugs, wiping her mouth.

Dela looks away from her, her mouth downturned. Jinkx reaches for her hand under the table. The most meaning is always in the notes that aren’t being played. Jinkx smiles a little as she runs her thumb up and down the back of Dela’s hand, but her silence is telling. Dela swallows a little of her guilt, idly twirling the spoon in her coffee cup and staring out across the street. She hates it when Jinkx picks up on this shit. It’s embarrassing when she notices that big, dirty heap of shame Dela has been carrying around for most of her adult life. It’s for her to deal with in silence, not to be seen by other people’s eyes.

When Dela had been going through her usual motions of bugging Jinkx to get out of the house as she packed her shit for a training session that morning, she had been surprisingly willing to play ball for once. Miracle of miracles, she’d actually succeeded. The little cafe they’d ended up in was cute - all natural light and warm colors, potted plants on every table. It felt nice to be somewhere with her. Like their life together had been before everything went wrong.

But Jinkx seems a little uncomfortable, like she wasn’t really ready to face the world - wearing a long-sleeved black t-shirt that fits her like a dress, and the leggings she’d slept in the night before; continually pulling her sleeves down over her hands like she’s trying to hide herself from the world. She hadn’t bothered to put her contacts in, her glasses resting on the end of her nose; her hair thrown into a bun with her unbrushed bangs poofing out in a directionless mess. Dela had a sneaking suspicion that Jinkx had only agreed on going out to eat somewhere because she’d noticed that she’d skipped breakfast.

Dela had cycled through little bouts of issues like this for as long as she could remember. She had spent most of her life in environments that fostered ruthless self-critique and self-hatred; beauty pageants when she was a young teenager, then acting in college, and now - when her body was constantly on display in the ring, just to be gawked at by a crowd. It was far from constant; she’d be fine for months, and then some kind of reminder that she should be viewing her weight as a problem would smack her in the face. That would be at the forefront of her mind for the next few weeks or so, until she got so sick of depriving herself that she couldn’t keep it up and rationalized herself back into ambivalence. It was waiting for the cycle to repeat itself that somehow hurt the most.

It wasn’t like she ate like shit the rest of the time; the guilt and shame and fear every time she even contemplated eating between meals or ordering dessert was always there. She gained weight every time she tried to quit smoking, so she’d stopped trying. It felt like there was nothing she could do. No matter what she did, feast or famine, her body refused to shrink. She’d tried every potential fix out there - keto, veganism, paleo, meal replacement shakes, intermittent fasting, calorie-counting, carb-cutting, and every miracle weight loss scheme under the goddamn sun - to less than no effect. She never learned, always winding up right back at square one - still miserable, still a size fourteen.

Dela would rather be thinking about literally anything other than food right now. She pushes her plate away, pursing her lips.

“Who are you training with?” Jinkx snaps her out of the downward spiral, squeezing her hand.

“It was meant to be a few of us - but Bianca messed her knee up again, so she’s at home on ice. Since she bailed, Adore isn’t coming either, and apparently Court is busy, so now it’s just me and Trinity.”

“Is Bea okay?” Jinkx furrows her brows.

In miraculously the first major incident of a two-decade career, Bianca had gotten hurt in a pretty bad way a few years ago, in a match against Chad - she’d taken an awful landing off of a shooting-star press; tearing basically every possible ligament and shattering her kneecap. It put her on the shelf for nearly ten months, and any knee problems with her since tended to be a little touch-and-go.

Dela had elected to just not mention that Adore and Courtney were both refusing to come just in case the other showed face; Adore paranoid that Courtney was mad at her, and Courtney too embarrassed by the last couple of weeks to want to be around the other girls. Dela couldn’t deny that she was getting worried about Court; whenever she went MIA like this, Dela couldn’t help but assume the worst. She'd been trying pretty much daily to get ahold of her, to basically no avail, and she wasn't sure what she was going to do about any of it.

Bill had been told that not booking her wasn’t an option, so pulling her from two consecutive shows had pissed Dela off. Not that there was much point in her saying anything - her going up to bat for Courtney would make him more likely to keep screwing her over just out of spite, and probably get Dela herself booked into another dogshit public humiliation feud to boot.

She wasn’t even sure if Jinkx knew, or remembered, that Courtney had dropped the title. She wasn’t about to bring it up to her now.

“She’s fine - her physio checked her out, it’s just bruised and swollen, but she’s in the main event on Saturday so she’s trying to rest up.” Dela says. Jinkx nods, not saying much more. “Manila’s gonna be at the show by the way.”

Jinkx doesn’t respond. Her face twitches a little.

“Mateo’s off TV for a few weeks - they’re taking the kids to Disneyworld. She called me a couple of days ago to ask if we had space on the card for her,” Dela continues, trying to fill the silence.

Manila Luzon was a former two-time tag champ who had left a few years back. Her husband, a luchador who went by ‘El Idolo’, had been signed to a major televised promotion that ran out of Nashville, prompting their move and consequently her departure from Femme Fatale. She’d found her feet since - settling into motherhood with two young daughters, and she’d recently started doing the weekend warrior thing on the side after two years out; wrestling a few times a month for local indies. Dela was excited to see her.

“You guys always got along really well,” Dela starts. “Do you wanna-“

“Dela...” Jinkx purses her lips, averting Dela’s gaze and letting go of her hand. “That’s four days away - you can’t spring this stuff on me. If you’d told me sooner, I maybe could have…shit.” Jinkx trails off - overtaken with a twitchy, nervous energy. She puts her head in her hands.

Fuck.

Maybe a month before Manila had left, Raja - her long-term best friend and tag partner - had taken a horrifically botched buckle-bomb from Magnolia Crawford, which had essentially retired her; splitting her head open and giving her a massive concussion that she was still dealing with the aftershock of two years later. A pretty monumental detail that had somehow slipped Dela’s mind.

Jinkx had spent all night in the emergency room with her - and then when Manila’s move had been confirmed and she’d met up with Jinkx to ask to be released from her contract, they’d exchanged some pretty choice words over the fact that Magnolia not only still had a job, but was the current World Champion. She’d won the belt in the same match where she’d injured Raja, and getting it off of her had proven no mean feat, thanks to a barrage of threats to trash the promotion’s name, and the fact that nobody was willing to get in the ring with her. Jinkx had never really forgiven herself for any of it. How it had all ended for Raja; losing Manila under the circumstances they had; or the state of Courtney’s face after the match that eventually got Magnolia fired.

Getting in touch with Dela to ask about a match was the first that any of them had heard from Manila in nearly two years.

“I’m sorry,” Dela says, trying to keep her response to a minimum as she fidgets with her shirt. Jinkx doesn’t look mad - just upset. Dela would rather she was mad. That would be a little less heartbreaking.

Jinkx chews agitatedly at her bottom lip as she waves a waitress over to ask for the check. Dela is kicking herself internally. There’s tears in her eyes as she stands up to leave the cafe.

The car ride to the gym is horribly quiet.

*****

“Finally!”

Trinity shouts over the loud crash as she drops the weight bar, dusting away the grip chalk from her hands against her shorts and taking off her headphones.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” Dela says through slightly gritted teeth as she closes the door to the gym behind her. She didn’t want to acknowledge the last twenty minutes of awful, stilted silence. Or that Jinkx had been outside, but didn’t have the mental energy to come talk to her.

Trinity wipes the sweat from her brow, picking up her water bottle and taking a drink. Dela sits down on the bench to get herself ready as Trinity catches her breath.

“It’s all good, baby,” Trinity says with a small smile, tightening her ponytail. There’s got to be nearly 300lbs loaded up onto that bar, Dela notices. Trinity’s level of athleticism frankly kind of scared her. “At least you showed up.”

Dela just nods. Her gym bag is barely-organized chaos, and she has to pull an empty energy gel wrapper out of her shoe. She lays out all of her stuff on the bench beside her - wrist wraps, belt, water, protein shake that makes her gag.

The temptation not to bother had been strong, but by the time she’d talked herself out of it, they were already at the gym. As usual, Dela was the one person not to bail - everyone else got to focus on whatever other crap they had going on, everyone else could take a break and fix their own lives, but not her. She showed up, she was reliable, she was there for other people, she was the shoulder to cry on. It was the only thing she had ever been certain she was good for.

“How’s your day going?” Dela asks as she kicks off the clean gym shoes she’d been wearing, changing them out for the wrecked black Converse she used for weight training. She desperately needs some kind of distraction from the noise and bullshit inside her own brain.

“Pretty good. I’ve been camped out here with my mom since ten. She had shit to do - I think she’s recording a podcast or something? - so she left like, twenty minutes ago. Which I’m not mad at, I get more work done when she’s not here.”

“You let your mom use the gym?” Dela says with wide eyes and a half-laugh.

“Oh, I don’t let her. Crazy old lady does not ask anybody for permission to do shit. She just decided it was happening - her words, ‘why pay for a gym membership when you have keys to a free one?’” Trinity laughs.

“Trinity, we have rules,” Dela says - trying to tell her off out of a sense of obligation, but struggling to keep a straight face. Faking being mad was hard.

Dela had idolized Latrice growing up - a multiple-time champion on GLOW, followed by a poorly-booked stint in WCW and subsequent retirement when she was around forty, thanks to an accumulation of back injuries and having four young kids. She was long-retired nowadays - Dela guessed she had to be in her early sixties - and made the bulk of her living on the convention circuit, doing autograph signings and occasional appearances at indie shows - something that had really picked up in the last few years thanks to a renewed interest in the promotion where she’d made her biggest mark. Dela had been a little starstruck when they first met; turning straight back into that excited six-year old who’d begged to stay up late on a Saturday night and sat glued to the TV watching her with awe.

“What? She doesn’t do much - spends five minutes on the elliptical and then sits around shit-talking people I don’t know and telling me my form sucks,” Trinity smiles with a roll of her eyes, re-chalking her hands and starting another round of reps.

Dela watches as Trinity blitzes through her deadlift set like it’s nothing - barely breaking a sweat. She’s controlled, face focused. Dela hasn’t even finished tying her shoes.

Dela thinks that training with Trinity is, in its own way, kind of relaxing. Bianca was a nightmare in the gym - far too competitive; by contrast, Adore was too laid-back, and tended to just stand around doing nothing until somebody - usually Bea - told her off. Courtney was fine, but she was never on time, and had a tendency to be a little preachy about the benefits of yoga and how caffeine was the devil; and being anywhere one-to-one with Pretty Dope felt like accidentally walking into a party that she hadn’t been invited to.

The occasional workouts she’d done with Bill back when Jinkx was still wrestling and they had been kind-of friends had been hell on earth - he lapsed into this embarrassing, hyper-masculine performance of asserting dominance over her, or whoever else they were with, usually to disastrous effect; always intent on lifting heavier, or finishing a set faster, than the other person. She had, in two separate incidents, watched him shit his pants and tear a quad as a result of feeling threatened and overdoing it.

Trinity was easy-going - focused, but not to a fault. Critical where she needed to be, but never for the sake of being mean; she knew her shit without being arrogant. Pro wrestlers are very seldom the chillest group of people to be around; even within the women’s scene, there was more bitchery and posturing than Dela really cared for. Trin didn’t give a shit, and it was refreshing. If people like her were the future of the industry, Dela figured it would be in good hands by the time she called it quits.

The weight bar crashes to the floor again.

“You wanna try it?” Trinity asks airily, taking another drink of water with one hand on her hip.

“I would die,” Dela says matter-of-factly.

“Pussy,” Trinity teases with a smile on her face, racking the bar up and removing the weights.

Dela stands up; bending at the waist and grabbing her calves, stretching her back out. She’d designated this session as leg day - they were her favorite part of her body to work, and the one that she defaulted to when she was feeling crappy about herself. Most of her strength had always been in her lower half, earning her the nickname ‘thunder-thighs’ as a teenager - that had specifically made her life hell when she’d still been doing pageants, the other girls barely bothering to conceal their giggles behind a hand during the swimsuit category. But said thighs were practically made of steel, and they had served her well in her wrestling career; she couldn’t bring herself to hate them that much.

She moves onto her quads, steadying herself on one foot and grabbing the other, pulling it upwards to stretch out the band of muscle at the front of her thigh. She feels an uncomfortable and irritatingly familiar twinge in her ankle. Figures. She wasn’t sure how much of it was in her head, but it always seemed to pick its moments - like when her mind was at odds with itself, the rest of her body felt the need to contribute something to her general suffering too. As she puts her foot down on the floor, the twinge becomes a steady, uncomfortable ache. Dela purses her lips, returning to her gym bag and rummaging around for her athletic tape.

“Fuck - that’s gnarly.”

Trinity is kneeling on the ground to scribble the details of her last set into her training log, and she grimaces as Dela slips her shoe over her heel and pulls her sock down, inadvertently showing off the six-inch scar to the side of her leg. She wasn’t wrong. Every wrestler Dela knew past a certain age had their one particular crappy master-stroke of an injury - Jinkx’s neck, Bianca’s knee, Raja’s head. That was hers; a nasty tib-fib break about twelve years ago that had never felt totally right since.

Funnily enough, it was Bill’s fault. Just like every other problem in her life. Back in the days before Femme Fatale, she and Jinkx had worked a mixed tag match against him, and some guy he’d met on the night, at a fairly high-profile show in Memphis. Their original opponents had bailed on the night - their car had broken down three hours away from the venue - and Jinkx and Dela had been supposed to wrestle each other. Dela had been more than okay with that prospect; they’d had enough matches together that they could call one on the fly in their sleep, and there was something about sex after a match when they’d been across from the ring from one another that was specifically really hot…

And then Bill stepped in and ruined everything. He’d been booked to lose to one of the promotion’s comedy jobbers in the curtain-jerker, so he’d jumped at the opportunity to be pushed up to the semi-main, grabbed the nearest guy to him in the locker room, and graciously volunteered to step in and fill the hole in the card

Once they got to the ring, the match had been clunky and unrehearsed - the crowd had popped off for her and Jinkx, seemingly because they were the only team with actual chemistry. Pissed off that they were getting all the attention and desperate to pull something impressive out of his arsenal, Bill had attempted to lift Dela up for a jackhammer, despite being told that the move was a bad idea. Dela was taller than him, and fairly bottom-heavy, two things that were already working against the potential success of the spot; they hadn’t had time to run it in training, and he wasn’t great at pulling it off at the best of times.

As predicted, he’d screwed it up in spectacular fashion, landing on top of her with her leg bent the wrong way under her. She remembered hearing something snap; the pain white-hot and immediate.

She really didn’t award him many points for ring awareness, given that his next move had been to put her in an ankle-lock - refusing to let up, despite the fact that she’d tapped out before he’d even cinched in the hold; apparently convinced that she was just selling. She didn’t think it had been malicious - he was just stupid. And a crappy wrestler. How he and Jinkx had been trained by the same people was beyond her - but it had no doubt made the injury worse. If he hadn’t done that, maybe she could have had a few weeks in a cast, rather than the titanium plate, six screws, and five months out of action she’d finished up with.

To this day he’d never really apologized. Jinkx had been incensed by the whole situation, and resolved that the two of them were finished. Dela had made her patch things up with him.

“I know, right?” Dela says through partly gritted teeth as she finishes taping up her leg “You’re looking at your future here, Trin - wrestling sucks.”

“Mm, sure,” Trinity says skeptically. Very recently twenty-three, and with all the promise in the world, she was still kind of in the ‘I’m going to live forever’ honeymoon period of her wrestling career.

She’d come from a general athletic background - varsity track and field, lacrosse, softball - which she’d been freakishly good at; six feet of insane strength and stamina. Latrice had started training her when she was still in high school. She’d worked her first match for Femme Fatale at eighteen - as soon as she legally could - and Jinkx had been umfathomably hot on hiring her as soon as possible; aware that she was going places, and intent on snapping her up in case those places got ahold of her before they did.

“Your turn - quit slacking,” Trinity says with a grin, nodding to the squat rack. Dela pulls a face.

She stands up somewhat reluctantly - resetting the squat rack to her height, loading up the barbell with an easy 150lbs. She feels like a robot as she goes through the motions; her head is floating six inches above the rest of her body, and her midsection feels hollow with guilt and worry. Trinity is half-watching her between glances at her phone. How soon is too soon to throw in the towel and go home?

Dela inhales deeply as she rises to a standing position, barbell behind her shoulders, and drops into a squat. When she pushes herself back up, her knees are already shaking - shit, her head really isn’t in this today. She tries to force her way through another couple of reps, but her body is reluctant to let that happen. Her hands are in a dumb position, and her feet are offset, and her ankle is killing her, and it doesn’t feel right. She bails on her fourth attempt, dropping the bar. Trinity jumps as it crashes against the floor

“Girl, come on. You can do better than that - and stop locking your knees.” Trinity says. Dela doesn’t respond, her hands covering her face as she tries to pull her thoughts together - her brain is making too much noise for her to concentrate. “Hey, are you okay?”

Dela doesn’t really have an answer for her. She pushes her hair out of her face, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I’m fine,” she eventually settles on. “Crappy morning - my focus really isn’t here.”

“I can tell,” Trin observes. Dela slumps down on the bench. Trinity flinches at the sound of ripping velcro as Dela tears her wrist wraps off, throwing them down on the floor and pressing her hands into her face. “Okay, fuck the workout for five minutes - talk to me.”

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about,” Dela shrugs, still agitatedly messing with her bangs. Her hair is at a fantastically annoying in-between stage where it’s too short to stay tied up, but long enough to be a pain in her ass. As much as she’d hated it, at least when it was shaved, it wasn't in the way. “I just…everything feels weird.”

Trinity sits down by her side. She smells like fresh sweat and Monster Energy - that weird sugar-free lemon one that Dela tries to force herself to like, even though it tastes like battery acid.

“Weird how?”

That was a big fucking question. Having to run a show with someone who was permanently at odds with her for no apparent reason and being the one to take the fall for all of his shortcomings; feeling like she was watching her life’s work take its dying breaths as the quality of shows deteriorated and more and more people quit, but not knowing what to do about it. Feeling permanently alone without Jinkx by her side in wrestling, and a different kind of alone at home where she was there at home, but notedly different. Knowing that Jinkx was suffering, but not knowing what to do about that either, and her every attempt seeming to make it worse. Feeling like a foreigner in her own body - a feeling she knew well, but still couldn’t stomach. Hating wrestling, hating dragging herself through matches without any kind of long-term goal - and yet in too deep to get out, with no exit in sight. But she couldn’t say all of that. Dela sighs.

“I don’t know. I just feel…I don’t know. Kind of over it.”

“‘Over’ what?”

“Wrestling. It’s just…I feel like it’s causing more stress than it’s worth. I’m struggling with my own matches - I don’t know how to be a singles wrestler. Nothing works, nothing’s fun - I don’t think I wanna do it anymore,” Dela says with a heavy sigh. It felt like the words had just fallen out of her mouth - no real thought behind them, but far too much truth for her linking.

“No - fuck that. You quit, I quit. And so do half of the roster, Dela. You’re the only person left that’s on our side.” Trinity shakes her head, clearly trying to shut down any level of doubt that Dela was expressing. All it’s really achieved is making her feel guilty - and a little selfish.

“I mean…” Dela stumbles over her words. Trinity’s response really caught her off-guard. “Look, this isn’t out of nowhere. Us winning the titles was meant to be our last big run before we started winding down. We were gonna retire when Jinkx turned forty.”

“Seriously?”

“Except we never got a title run, so we never got that. And now everything is such a goddamn mess, and I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going.” Dela says - anxiously fidgeting with the waist-tie of her shorts. “I’d already made my peace with being done within the next couple of years. But I still have goals, I still have shit I want to do. What I don’t have is the person I’d planned to do it with.”

“Shit, Dela.” Trinity breathes, putting a hand on Dela’s knee. “Is everything okay with you guys?”

“It’s as good as it’s been for the last year. She’s struggling - a lot.” Dela admits. She keeps chewing over their conversation in the restaurant in her head - agonizingly aware that it was entirely her fault, and mad at herself for somehow not having learned yet. “I’ve never done anything without her. I nearly quit last year, back when she had to retire. There's nothing left for me that’s possible without her.”

“Look, I get it. Well, I don’t, but like…Bill won’t book me for anything long-term. I don’t think he fucking likes me. And training, and showing up, and putting yourself through all that shit when you don’t know what it’s for sucks. So if it makes you feel any better, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here either.”

“I’m sorry,” Dela frowns. Trin is yet more collateral damage in this whole ridiculous situation, and she feels horrendously guilty about that too. This time last year, she’d been lined up for a world title run. “It’s bullshit, and believe me I’m trying my best to do more for you. You’re incredible in the ring - he’s wasting your talent.”

“I suck at cutting promos,” Trinity says, her voice deflated. “He keeps telling me that’s why - he says I talk like I’m stupid. I’m never gonna get anywhere - if I quit Femme Fatale, I’m done. Nowhere else is gonna hire me.”

Something about that really isn’t hitting Dela’s ear right, and the frustrating thing is how easily she can picture those words in his voice. She’d heard similar things during the conference call she’d had with Vixen and the other girls when they’d walked out; insulting their intelligence had been one of his personal favorite means of shitting on their self-esteem.

The rest of what she’d said was flat-out absurd - they’d been pretty solidly convinced that they wouldn’t even have Trin a few years from when they’d hired her. She knew that other promotions would be paying attention - Impact had shown a shit ton of interest in her after she’d debuted, and the only reason they hadn’t picked her up at the time was because she was only nineteen, therefore not allowed to compete on TV. She’d turned down an offer from World of Stardom two years ago; she hadn’t particularly wanted to move to Japan, and Latrice had agreed that a few more years of indie experience before jumping to TV would serve her well. If she walked out the door, she’d be guaranteed other offers - better offers, really.

“He’s talking out of his ass,” Dela says. “Trin, do you have any idea how hard we have to try to keep our hands on you? You being here is gonna be a footnote in your career one day - and your promos are fine. I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t have to be nice - it’s true,” Trinity’s face falls. “I mean, shit - my mom offered to drop all of her convention stuff so she could be my manager. That’s how I know I fucking stink.”

“Sweetie, there are plenty of people who’ve been mega-stars that don’t do their own talking. There’s no shame in it.”

“I can do it on paper,” Trinity says, sharply defensive. “I know what to say, and how to say it - it just never goes right in front of people. I had a really fucking bad stutter when I was a kid - I got the shit bullied out of me for years. And every time I try to get on the mic, I freeze up. I’m right back there; I’m still that scared little girl getting laughed at cause she couldn’t get her words out right.” Trinity explains. She’s wringing her hands as she talks.

“I understand - it’s nerves, it happens. I could try and coach you a little? I was a manager for years, I used to write all of Jinkx’s promos - talking is my thing. If there’s anything you think I could help with, I’d be happy to.”

Trinity gives a slight nod, not seeming to have taken in much of what Dela just said. Dela can tell she’s thinking about something.

“Dela, I think I have an idea. You can say no if you want, I get it, but…” Trinity pauses for a second. “If you’re looking for a new tag partner, I’d be down.”

“Are you sure?” Dela raises her eyebrows; caught off-guard by the question and unsure how to feel about it. From where she was standing, it looked a lot like Trin voluntarily kneecapping herself. Dela can’t see herself being worth it. “I mean like, we work really different styles - I’m old enough to be your mom.”

“That doesn’t matter. We could be like, the Rock ‘n’ Sock Connection with better boobs.” Trinity says, a laugh playing about her voice.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Dela laughs, rolling her eyes. “Because it’s obvious that you’re The Rock in that analogy.”

“I’m serious, Dela - please,” Trinity looks at her, her gaze firm. “I know it’s been a minute since we last had a match together, but I like working with you. I don’t wanna see you quit, and I need a mouthpiece. It would help both of us out.”

Dela turns the offer over in her mind. The idea of a partnership between the two of them felt doomed to be a comedy deal. Trinity had nailed it with the Rock n’ Sock comparison - young megastar in the making meets chubby outcast, the brains and brawn in one while the other stood cheering at the sidelines. But they had been a brilliant team. Maybe she was selling Mick Foley a little short.

Dela had a lot more control over what she did and didn’t do in the ring than the other girls. Maybe Trinity wasn’t tying herself down with her, but securing herself an ally. She deserved better than the lot she was getting, that was for certain.

Dela nods quietly to herself.

“...Okay.”

#rpdr fanfiction #s6 #bendelacreme #jinkx monsoon #jela #trinity k bonet #angst #lesbian au #glow au #wrestling au #lita #bitch fight #femme fatale wrestling au #tw disordered eating

7 notes · View notes

corysmiles · 3 years

Note

IT'S HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRREEE!! The longest oneshot so far! XD Hope you like it

cw: general themes of hunger, blood, semi graphic description of violence. Be warned!

-----

Phil decided to visit early today, entering the cave and waving at Techno, who immediately recognized him. He moved closer and, while still hesitant, grabbed him and moved him at eye level. It was nice. A bit unnerving, but nice. Phil laughed and hugged two of techno’s fingers before he put him on the counter.

They spent most of the evening sharing stories and getting more comfortable with touch. They even made some progress, techno’s hand not shaking as much when he wrapped his fingers around Phil!

It would be an hour still before Wilbur and Tommy came. So Techno figured it was time to shrink to human size if he wanted to spend some time with them after dinner as a giant. He went and reached the shelf with the bottle. Phil simply whistled and looked around. He stopped and turned when he didn’t hear any drinking sound. Techno was frozen and he looked horrified.

“Are you alright, mate?”

“It’s empty.” Techno said.

“Oh. Well, looks like today is a stay-giant kind of day-”

“No.” Techno put the thing back. “How could I have missed it?? It’s not supposed to happen…” He swallowed and looked back at Phil, worry clear as day in his eyes.

They stared at each other, Phil trying to read the unspoken words of his friends, but nothing came. “What is it? You often stay at your real size during dinners, what’s up?”

“... I haven’t hunted in days.” He admitted after a couple more seconds of silence. “I don’t have any food for tonight.”

“Oh shoot.” Phil took a couple steps towards techno, reaching the end of the furniture. “That’s no good.”

“We’ll have to cancel the grouped dinner tonight.” The giant looked at his small friend. “I’m sorry, but I have to- I know we all usually look up to these gathering but I can’t- I”

“Hey, it’s okay, no need to panic, mate.” Phil tried to reassure. He only gained a loud whine from techno, that he could feel in his bones. (quite literally, the vibration almost made him shake.) “I’ll tell Wilbur and Tommy.”

Techno stared, unsure, before sighing and letting his arm fall. “Alright, go tell them.”

Phil pulled up his phone, sending a message to both his friends. As he pressed sent, he looked back at techno. He did say he used the potion for food, primarily, but surely he dealt with it before.

“Do you want to go now, or…?”

Techno shook his head. “No. Not right now. Plus you’re still here-”

“Oh that’s no problem” Phil waved off. “I can come hunt with you.”

At that, Techno made a…. cringed, sound? Embarrassed perhaps, Phil couldn’t quite name it, but he was definitely uncomfortable with the idea.

“I don’t… it’s quite… You don’t want to see it.” he put his hand on his face, covering his expression.

"It's alright, mate. You know I'm okay with you being a tall boy." He laughed

"No- I mean… I mean it, Phil. It's gross."

"Well then I'll stay here until you come back."

Techno lowered his hands to look at the human, almost annoyed. He groaned and hid his face once more before the sound became much louder, Phil stumbling a little. "There's no way you're giving up on this, is there?"

"Nope!" Phil said, jumping down and being caught by the giant in a panicked movement "Please learn to warn me when you do that, my heart can't take it" he laughed.

"Wilbur told me to do it like this. Says it's more fun."

"Of course he did."

They stayed in the abode a bit longer, watching the sun setting through the window. Techno at one point decided to try and play his violin again, trying to improve to play with Wilbur one day. And even though it was…. Improvable, to say the least, it wasn't terrible either.

Phil clapped at the end of each song, earning a small laugh from the giant every time. He even tried to dance to one. Fortunately, they were the only ones to witness the carnage that was Phil's stumbly move tied to Techno's cacophony. It ended in unstoppable laughter that shook Phil's entire body.

Phil paced around the table he was now on as the laughs died down. He toyed with what he assumed was a home-made pen, turning it around and moving it like it was a spear. He stopped dead in his tracks, shaken by a loud growl that resonated through the entire room.

He turned around and watched his friend put his hands on his stomach, face red, violin now on the floor.

Phil put on an amused smile. "I think now's a good time to go hunt."

"I-" Techno did not have time to object before another grumble was heard. He shut his eyes and opened them, surrender in his expression."Yeah. It- might be good."

He stood up and offered a hand to Phil. "The hunting area is quite far, though. You might wanna take the ride for this one."

The blond gladly hopped on the hand and Techno brought him next to his chest, fingers curling protectively around his friend who watched the road through the space between the fingers. And so he began to walk.

It was the first actual time he traveled with a giant like that. It was nice. And he was glad he took the offer when he realized how far from the abode it was.

The walk ended up being quite long, Techno's stomach growling a lot during it, seeming almost painful at times by the way his face twisted. And everytime, it felt like the giant wanted to just run away and hide from view.

"You don't have to be embarrassed because you're hungry, you know?"

"I- no, but it's- it's so loud and" another rumble cut him off "it's… a hungry giant is not a good sight. It's scary."

"I don't know about that." Phil replied "you're just Techno, who happens to need food. I don't see any problem with that." Techno snorted half in disbelief, at the naivety of his peer.

"You know my soft side too well. I should start to act scary around you more." Phil bursted out laughing at that.

"Yeah, I know you too well. You wouldn't hurt a fly even if you tried."

Techno hummed

"Except if one of us was in danger. I feel like that's the one scenario where you would go apeshit."

"Yeah. Yeah, probably."

The rest of the ride ended up in comfortable silence (apart from Techno's hunger manifesting in numerous loud gurgles). Techno took a breath of fresh air and looked at his friend. He finally lowered his hand and Phil hopped out, on the grass. He took the view around him. "So this is your hunting spot."

Techno nodded. "I'll need around 15-20 adult preys. Don't really care if it's a deer or a wolf or whatever. Once you're done, meet me here."

Phil nodded and took out his bow "alright. Be careful!" He waved goodbye and only heard his laugh as he dived deeper into the forest.

---

The hunt ended up being nearly two hours long. Phil was surprised by the amount of animals here. It made sense, though, since it was so far away from everything, and the only known hunter of the area only stepped by occasionally.

As he brought back the last body near the pile, he noted that it seemed quite little for his friend still. He frowned. Was his friend trying once again to limit himself, so that he doesn't scare Phil?

He visualised his friend, standing up, and then looked back at the pile.

Of course he was.

He groaned and pulled his hair "oh my god- I TOLD HIM IT WAS FINE- JESUS! What kind of tool do I need to use to hammer the idea down his head right?!?" He sighed. It's not like Techno had a small appetite. Everytime they gathered around, he was the one with the fullest plate. But he always was so much shiftier when at his real size. Even though Phil couldn't blame him, it pissed him off.

And so the hunt ended up being longer than anticipated. But he ended up gathering a pile he judged big enough for his friend. And so he headed back.

As he approached the meeting place, he called out "Techno? You ther-"

He stopped. Dead in his tracks. And watched his friend, sitting on the ground, rigid as a statue, hands placed on the ground, holding something he realized were different cows and sheeps and deer.

"What is he doing?" He murmured to himself, not taking a step closer. There was a few more minutes of silence, during which more creatures climbed on his hand, before the large body shifted.

Phil flinched at the sudden movement. The hand raised higher and higher, too quick to let the animals jump down before his mouth opened, jaw wide, and-

Crack.

In a single motion, all the bodies in his hands were chopped down, their other halves between the giant's teeth.

Phil's body was frozen, and he witnessed wide eyes, as Techno dived in and took the rest of his meal sitting in his hand. It was… animalistic, to say the least. After scratching for every little crumb, he lowered his hands, allowing his bloody jaw to be visible.

It was understandable he didn't want his friends to witness that, he realized.

But Phil blinked out of his trance and stepped in like nothing happened.

"Hey, mate." Techno flinched and snapped his head toward the human, who laughed. "Sorry, should've warned."

"It's... it's alright, Phil." Techno said, licking the blood off his face, trying to hide the previous instance. "Uhm, have you been here for a while?"

"Nah" Phil lied "I just came back."

"Good! Good." He stood up slowly "Can you bring me to the ones you hunted down?"

Phil nodded and turned back, getting to said spot. It was almost comical to see Techno taking a small step everytime Phil made ten long ones, but they arrived quickly.

Techno sat down and his eyes widened when he looked at the pile.

"... that's more than 20." He pointed out. The pile was 3 times Phil's size. There were at least double the amount.

“Yeah.” Phil admitted. “You seemed rather hungry so I thought you might have needed more.”

“I mean, you were not the only one hunting,” Techno laughed. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Phil smiled, but it died down a little when Techno shifted, apprehensive. He turned to the blond, a nervous look on his face.

“Mh… Can you- perhaps…. uh… Turn around, maybe?”

Phil gave him a sympathetic smile, before closing his eyes and turning around, sitting legs crossed.

He could only hear the giant, but by the sounds of it, the poor boy was actually famished. He stuffed as much food as he could and chewed fast, and the heavy swallowing sounds made him twitch. Bones were crushed and flesh was torn apart like his life depended on it. Maybe it was morbid curiosity. He did see what it was like earlier after all, but he couldn’t help the silent temptation to turn around and look at the giant in such an intricate, taboo moment.

But Techno trusted him to not do it. Trusted him in this vulnerable moment. One he felt shameful and embarrassed about, and only time could ease this silent pain inside the giant. So, with quite the self control, he kept his eyes shut.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the frantic sounds came to a stop. He furrowed his brows. Still nothing.

Suddenly, he felt a pressure on his head, ruffling his hair. A surprised sound escaped his lips and he laughed as he tentatively opened an eye.

“You good, mate?”

“Yeah” Techno said. “It’s good now.”

Phil turned around and took a small step back when he realized the giant was closer than he thought, hands making a barrier around him, which would be cute if it wasn’t for the crimson red tainting them up until above his wrists. And his face was also covered with blood. He had an almost panicked look as he moved his hands closer. He was panting.

“Hey.” Techno said and gulped, his hands even shaking slightly. Phil could read his thoughts clear as day.

‘Is he scared?’ ‘My hands are so bloody’ ‘Is he gonna run away?’ ‘I probably look like a mess-’ ‘He asked for it, but is he still okay with it?’

‘Is he still okay with me acting like myself?’

Techno was scared. So scared that showing more of him would push him away… But Phil knew better.

And so, to this new side techno showed him, Phil said.

“Hello, mate.”

----

They ended up going back not too long after that, Phil sitting on Techno’s shoulder to avoid the disturbing smell his hands bore. On the way back, Techno let it slip that he hadn’t eaten at all the whole day, hence his need to hunt. Phil scolded him for a good part of the ride about that. But eventually, it ended with smiles and laughs (and a promise to be more careful about techno’s diet. “Well, it’s been in shambles for quite a while” “You are not helping your case here, mate.”)

They entered techno’s abode and next thing Phil knew, he was grabbed gently and placed on the counter. He blinked and saw his friend grabbing a towel and a water bucket.

He chuckled, watching his friends wash away the blood he almost forgot about.

Once clean, techno sighed and turned to Phil. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

He laughed. “I mean, it’s the middle of the night. Kind of late for me to go back. Mind if I sleep here for the night?”

They stared at each other for a while before techno hummed and opened his palm in front of Phil, who hopped into it easily.

He was grabbed and held onto a bit of a squeeze, not sure why until he felt techno falling straight on his bed, not controlling the arm holding phil that much. He screamed at the sudden sensation of falling, but noticed he was fine once the movement stopped. He sighed. “You could warn me about that next time.”

a rumbly “mmhhsorry” was the only answer he got. He laughed as he watched the exhaustion hit his friend. The grip lessened and, slowly, he allowed himself to relax, the heartbeat and deep breathing of the giant soothing him into a good night of sleep.

No, techno was not always soft. Technoblade was not a man of manners. Technoblade could be harsh. He could be intimidating, violent and raw…

Technoblade was kind as much as he could be cruel. Philza was aware of that reality more than anyone else.

And he would not have it any other way.

You’ve done it again, please send love to @melissa-s23 for this awesome fic 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

Cant wait for more of the potion au :]

#melissas writing #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #submission #fic #techno potion au #angst #hurt/comfort #g!techno #t!philza #💛💛💛💛

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letterstothemidnightsociety · 3 years

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Alright, so if you've been following along with me, Supernatural season 3 starts out on a trio of episodes that are Really Fun, slides into some episodes that are Pretty OK, then takes a real nose dive into Bummersville. Hoo boy guys, I really hope that this season picks up. I mean, it won’t, but I can still dream. 2021 was maybe not the year to start watching this season. Fair warning.

The next three episodes for this season are just, like, real downers. First we get “Fresh Blood,” which, aside from the terrible title, starts out on a high note. Gordon (gross) somehow manages to catch up with Bela (HOW??) and threatens her if she doesn’t hand over the Winchesters. Bela, in all of her class and grace, won’t give them up because she has a high price point and Gordon is really lowballing her here. Just like, yes, ok, please stay forever, you’re amazing and I love you. And what a scene this is! You have two characters, one with a strict moral code (albeit one that allows for violence and winning at all costs) and the other with almost NO moral code, but an allegiance that can be bought with the best price and it’s such a fun back and forth until Gordon pulls out a gun. And then she pulls out her phone and just has Dean on speed dial and that’s maybe my fav part. Bela has run into the Winchesters twice and they maybe legit hate her but she’s very much like, oh yeah, my BFF’s the Winchesters, I love those idiots!

I love that we come back to this moment later in the episode when Bela, like, three days later, is like, Oh! I guess I should warn the Winchesters that some crazy guy is after them! She’s just so casual about it you kind of get the feeling that, even though technically Gordon was threatening her life, she doesn’t view him as A Threat. She gives the Winchesters a heads up just to be like oh yeah, you might want to watch out for this mild inconvenience, and she seems legit shocked when Dean freaks out. There’s this moment that plays across her face like, oh shit, did I...did I fuck up? And it adds a nice bit of depth to her character. She’s seems honestly worried, both for the lives of the Winchesters but also that Dean won’t like her anymore and that is just a charming bit of A C T I N G!

I am gonna miss her SO MUCH when she dies at the end of this season. WHY did we CANCEL HER???

But despite the fun beginning, this episode is about monsters and how people become monsters and how other people are probably the reason. Because our main baddie is a vampire who hunts to...well, listen if we look at the facts that he lays out in his monologue, it’s a little more tragic - he’s trying to replace the daughters that he lost hundreds of years ago, cool motive, still murder. In practice though, he goes around turning hot blonde coeds into vampires and then ?????? Who knows. I’d like to believe that this was a problem with the CW executives or maybe casting/directing and not with the writing, but it’s SPN and you really can’t be sure with anything. The fact is, this is a CW show from the early 2000’s and a lot of their extras are cast to type. And that’s maybe me exhibiting some girl-on-girl crime, but there are other episodes that did a much less blatantly gross job casting their extras/Very Special Guest Stars.

Anyway, the POINT of this guy is that he’s a monster because someone killed his daughter and he’s just been trying to fill that grief hole inside of him for centuries. This is not unlike Gordon, who ALSO has been trying to fill a grief hole that he’s had for decades, except he’s not killing people and resurrecting them as blood suckers, he’s just killing them. And then, when the Vamp decides to turn Gordon it’s a real sweet moment of comeuppance for like, a HOT second and then you’re like, awww dude, ya done f’ed up. That was a bad idea. You’ve made a HUGE mistake.

More importantly, our Vampire In Question finally runs into the Winchesters and get’s to say things like “I was desperate! You ever felt desperate? I've lost everyone I ever loved. I'm staring down eternity alone. Can you think of a worse hell?” and also “I just ... I didn't care anymore. Do you know what it's like when you just don't give a damn? It's like ... it's like being dead already.” and Dean’s v. much like, THIS IS TOO REAL ROY.

Sam may ALSO be feeling Too Real feelings because he is DONE dicking around with Gordon and honestly yes, I like this, this is good Sam development. It’s nice to know that Sam has a breaking point. And I admit I’m of two minds about this moment because 1) I love the idea of Dark!Sam this season and that maybe Sam’s decision to actually kill Gordon is just one step in that process but 2) I ALSO love the idea of Sam Lite finally having a breaking point and Gordon is IT. I don’t know which theory I like more in this scenario, but they are both good theories.

I think as much as this episode wants to draw parallels between the monsters and Dean (thank you artful editors), you can’t look at the “I’ve lost everyone I ever loved,” line and not think of Sam? Cuz he’s got one (1) person left in his life that hasn’t died horribly, so how desperate is he about to get through the end of this season? I’ve definitely been watching this season with eyes on all the ominous Dean foreshadowing, but the Sam foreshadowing is also there, just buried under the heavy weight of a thousand smulders and suicidal levels of denial.

And also, FUCK the tag on this episode! Guys, it is CUTE but it is also HORRIBLE. Dean starts teaching Sam how to fix the Impala and at first it’s all, “Oh! Adorable Brothers Being Brothers!” and I loved it but then I almost immediately hated it because you realize this is about making sure Sam can get along without him once he’s gone and Dean just accepts his own death with such casual ease that it’s just...INFURIATING!

This scene was rude and I HATE IT!

Cut to - “A Very Supernatural Christmas” Special!

Guys, I was so excited when I got to this episode. THIS is Classic Supernatural Shenanigans. Plus, you know a Holiday Special is the ultimate sign that this show has Made It, right? Or it could be a sign that they’re selling out, who knows, but I think we can say that at this point in the series, SPN is established enough to start having fun with their fans. That’s what this says to me. BUT THEN what we get is like...oh boy.

First - like, I’mma beat this horse to death, but what is WRONG with this FAMILY? John Winchester very quickly devolved into the sort of father that forgot about every single holiday and did not ever, even a little bit, make up for it. It’s not a surprise, but it kind of wrecked me seeing a flashback where Baby Dean is just so attached to a father who can’t be bothered to actually care for his children. I know he’s not in this episode because Jeffrey Dean Morgan was tied up in other projects, but the fact that John doesn’t show up at the end to button the flashbacks with a But then he DID show up for Christmas! just makes this plot line that more gutting. And despite Dean’s hero worship of their father, this is maybe the Christmas where Baby Sam stops believing in his own father. The only bright side to this is that it continues to enforce the fact that Bobby should have sued John for custody. Bobby should maybe STILL Sue for custody so that Dean at least would feel like someone wants him for once in his life, damnit.

And then we wrap this episode up with the Best Worst Christmas of all, because we see Sam start to...also?? accept that Dean is about to die? Cuz that’s what this episode is really about - Dean’s Last Christmas. And everything about that makes me ~ u p s e t ~.

So Sam decides to put his curmudgeonly grinchy attitude aside in order to make it a special day for Dean and ugh. UGH. UGHGHGHG. Season three is the worst guys, and I can’t believe I didn’t realize that until right this second now.

So let’s wrap this up with "Malleus Maleficarum", honestly an episode that is mostly forgettable until we get to, like, the last five minutes. Sure, witches and curses and selling your soul, woohoo whatever.

But then we get some real Ruby centric reveals and like, WHAT is happening?? First off, the scene where Ruby and Tammy have a moment is a real Moment. There is some baggage and tension here and it is heavy. And then Tammy drops the mic when she reveals that Ruby used to be human.

THEN, Ruby legit saves their asses by killing Tammy with a fancy magic knife. Ok, Dean does the actual killing, but Ruby brought the fancy magic knife. So between the hot and heavy tension with “Tammy” and her repeated attempts to keep the Winchesters alive, we’re left wondering what IS Ruby’s deal? I personally wonder how much of the show’s mythology the show actually has figured out at this point? Because interviews with Kripke definitely walk the line between “Oh we definitely have this whole thing worked out,” and “yeah, we’re sort of finding things as we go along,” which is maybe why it’s able to last as long as it does. More on that later.

Of course the big kicker is the final scene between Ruby and Dean. Dean is almost on board with Ruby at this point in the season, and much like his scene with the demon in “Sin City”, they share a kind of vulnerable moment together where Ruby admits that, yeah, she was human once and yeah, Hell will destroy you, body and soul, and yeah Dean’s worst fear will probably come true - he will become the thing he hunts, no ifs, ands or buts about it. And Dean knows that Ruby knows that Dean knows that there’s no way to save Dean from his fate, but they both agree that they can’t take Sam’s last ounce of hope away from him because, for both of them, Sam is their hope. Ruby and Dean both see the war happening around them and they know that with Dean gone, Sam’s maybe the last guy holding back the tide to save all humanity.

Which, honestly? Bull shit. Do you know how many hunters are out there? Neither do I, but this season seems to indicate that there are a LOT. We have barely scratched the surface on the hunter community and it’s a damn shame that they are all weirdo loners because there is a war going on. You know what works great in a war? An ARMY. Buncha mentally unstable, martyr-complex ijits who can’t put their differences aside for one damn MINUTE so that maybe, JUST maybe, the could actually defeat the evil they’ve spent their entire lives dedicated to fighting. And if Ruby and Dean wanted to help Sam, what they should probably do is get him plugged in to that community. I do believe that of all they backasswards, self-obsessed, painfully anti-social crazies out there, the Winchesters are THE WORST.

Listen tho, this was like, a solid scene between these two. Just a lot of work goin' into this and it paid off.

Anyway, back to the mythology for a hot second - This sort of loosey-goosey stumbling into your own world building is probably another one of those things that you’ll only really get in a show with this many episodes per season? It’s that room to play and experiment and just make stuff up as you go along. I think the slow drip method of releasing episodes ALSO helps in this scenario because you’re able to see what fans are reacting to in almost-real time. When viewers are binging episodes, I think you're less likely to see what specifically they’re reacting to and more wholistically they’re reacting to. And that’s not to say you won’t see those specific things that they like/love eventually, but by the time you get there, your season’s been produced in its entirety and you’ll have to bear that in mind for (hopefully) next season. But with SPN, they were writing and producing the show at the same time that some of the episodes were airing. That’s why they were able to make decisions on the fly, based on what fans responded to. And definitely by this point in the show, there was a sizeable and vocal fan base that made their feelings VERY well-known. We’re only in season three, but they’ve already had a number of con appearances and a pretty active online presence. That kind of feedback has got to be helpful, from a writing perspective, but it also allows for things like characters getting cut because nobody liked them for some dumb reason. BUT, if you’re fighting to stay on the air for 100 episodes or longer, responding to fan reactions is what’s gonna do it and that’s a fact.

#Supernatural #Supernatural rewatch #SPN #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Bela Talbot #Gordon Walker #Ruby #SPN Season 3 #Fresh Blood #A Very Supernatural Christmas #malleus maleficarum #It's gonna lighten up on the next three episodes #I promise #I hope #Don't watch this season if you're still feeling 2020 #Is my personal opinion

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