#i mean i still remember how to reshape my nose in sai but these tricks dont work with real hair fgdfgdgdfgggghgffjfgjfg

[glimpsesofeuterpe]

finally got kitty earrings that look nearly same as happy cornelius'

[whitecatindisguise]

Let Me Make You Proud 4

There you go, guys. Another chapter of my story. From this chapter onwards we focus mostly on Varian. Rapunzel and the gang will re-appear in chapters near the end of the story.

That being said, buckle up and let’s go!

------

Chapter 4: If You For Once Could Just Trust Me

It’s been already a week since his kidnapping, and it seemed he was not paid any attention at all. Well, except the occasional sound of the hatch at the bottom of the door slipping open and a tray of food being shoved inside. It wasn’t bad, he admitted, but it wasn’t good either. Bearable was the right word to describe it. 

Varian sighed as he put another spoonful into his mouth, throwing a piece of apple to the racoon beside him. The animal happily bit into the fruit, munching in delight. Seems like the apple wasn’t that bad. 

“I wonder if they forgot about me…” He wondered out loud, staring into the ceiling. It had a few cracks on it, but nothing to signify instability or the threat of sudden collapse. He eyed the door as he continued eating. 

It wasn’t like he spent the whole week doing nothing, waiting for his kidnappers to kindly appear once more. He carefully examined the door, each of the four walls, the bed, the chair and the small desk that occupied the space of his room. But no matter how thoroughly he looked, he couldn’t find anything that would help him escape. Besides, it’s not like he had anything to work with. All of his materials were either at home, or stored… somewhere. He didn’t even know where he WAS, not mentioning his materials or the way out of wherever he was kept in. 

Ruddiger finished munching on his piece of apple and nudged his leg, eyeing the last piece of fruit with hungry eyes. Varian absentmindedly pushed the plate in his direction, smiling lightly at the happy chitters that followed. 

The alchemist tried to reorder what he knew about his kidnappers and the place he was held in. It wasn’t much, though. He knew they were Saporians and, obviously, they needed him for something that connected to attacking Corona. It might be for his alchemy, but then, why wasn’t he given any tasks? 

When it came to the place, his knowledge was even lesser. The only thing he could say it was a long way from the castle, as it took few hours to get here by the hot air balloon. He couldn’t even tell which direction they flew, as he could feel the balloon turning a few times before they finally landed. For all that he knew, they might still be inside Corona’s borders and only spinned in circles to confuse him. 

He didn’t knew much about the hideout either. The whole way from the balloon to his room, he was blindfolded. He didn’t hear any voices from behind the door, too, so it might be in a secluded part of the building. There was one window in the room, but it was small and too high for him to see anything worth noticing. 

Focused on his thoughts, he didn’t even notice approaching footsteps, until he heard the click of unlocking his door. He shot upright and stared in shock at the person that walked in. It was a short and rather young girl, but at the same time she sent a vibe of long-forgotten knowledge and evil. She was all grey, and wore a big old-fashioned dress and a jewelled headwear. 

“It’s good to see you again, Varian.” The girl said in a voice that sent a chill down his spine. Ruddiger shuffled away and hid under the desk, growling quietly at the stranger. “They are treating you well, I imagine.”

“Who-Who are you?” He asked, his voice trembling. He didn’t like the way she looked at him, like he was a prey and she was a hunter. 

“Oh, I’m hurt. You don’t remember me?” She asked, putting her gloved hand over her heart and making a sad face. Except, her eyes didn’t seem sad or hurt, but rather malicious. 

Varian furrowed his brows, trying to think. It was true, the girl seemed familiar, but he couldn’t recall the moment they met. 

“Sure, it was a short meeting, but I thought I made quite an impression on you.” The girl straightened her arm and looked at her fingers, seeming suddenly uninterested. 

“I-I’m sorry, but…” Varian started but the girl’s smile suddenly grew impossibly wider and she came closer, her nose almost touching his (However was that possible, he didn’t know. The girl was shorter than him,).

“Use the Sun to see the Sun.” She said in an ominous voice as her eyes stared into his frightened expression. “Sounds familiar?”

Varian stared in shock at the girl, his mind spinning faster. 

“The dream!” He gasped, his eyes widening. “But how-?”

“Oh, so you DO remember!” She quickly found herself a few steps back, a smile of approval on her lips. “I’m flattered.”

“What do you want from me? And who are you?” Varian’s hands curled into fists by his sides. 

“Oh, I assure you. You know my name very well.” The girl turned around and crooked her head in his direction. “You just don’t know this persona yet.”

“Quit with the riddles!” The alchemist shouted angrily. 

“What a shame. And here I believed you are fond of riddles.” The girl’s voice saddened. “You are known to be extraordinarily intelligent, after all.” She sighed and turned back to face him, her face showing the impossibly wide smile yet again. “Very well, my name’s Zhan Tiri.”

Varian’s eyes grew even bigger and he quickly took a few terrified steps back, almost tripping on the chair behind him. For some reason, he felt a chill in the room, the air got more stuffy and there seemed to be less light than before. To add more, the shadow of the girl rose and reshaped, turning into a demonesque figure with horns. 

“Wha-What do you want from me?” He asked, trying to stop himself from trembling but failing. 

“It’s good that you asked!” The atmosphere suddenly changed to a lighter one, as the girl (a demon, Varian had to remind himself) smiled cheerfully. “It’s simple, really. All I want is for you to use your powers to conquer Corona and the Sundrop.”

“My… powers?” The boy repeated, puzzled. “What do you-? You mean, alchemy?”

“No, I don’t mean those childish tricks of yours.” Zhan Tiri waved her hand dismissively to which Varian inhaled sharply. No one before even dared to call his inventions ‘childish tricks’, and it angered him enough to make his blood boil. “I was talking about your Moon powers, of course.”

That words were enough to deflate his anger and leave him confused again. Moon powers? What the hell this demon was talking about?

“You got the wrong person. I don’t have Moon powers, or any powers, in that matter.” Varian argued. “It’s Cass who possesses the Moonstone.”

“Oh, please.” The girl (the demon) rolled her eyes, like he said something stupid. “She’s just a nobody, who is BORROWING the Moonstone’s powers. You, on the other hand, have inborn ability to unveil its true potential.”

“Cass is not a nobody!” He shouted in anger, his fists tightening. “Don’t you dare to insult her!”

“My, such anger~” Zhan Tiri spoke in delight. “We’ll make sure to use it right in the near future.” 

“I don’t want to have anything with the demon like you!” Varian spat, sending her his most angry glare. She didn’t seem to take notice at all, already turning to leave.

“You will, in time.” She said as she put her hand on a door frame. “If I were you, I would consider my offer. After all, you know first-hand, how rotten this kingdom is.”

Before Varian was able to find the words to answer, she was already gone, the door locked and the footsteps fading away. He let himself slide down the wall and sit on the floor, his head hidden in his hands. He felt Ruddiger approaching, squeezing himself between his arms and to his laps. He petted his fur with one hand, staring into the wall.

“What have we gotten ourselves into, Ruddiger?” He asked, as if waiting for the animal to answer him. “Moon powers? What a joke!” He laughed quietly, but his laugh was tainted with fear. 

Ruddiger chittered and put his paw on his hand, as if wanting to ensure the boy of his support. 

“You’re right, Ruddiger. I can’t let this get to me.” He stood up, taking the raccoon and putting it on his shoulders. “I will play that game, if only it helps me plan our escape. And if they believe I have some ‘magical’ powers, so let them.” He grabbed the animal and held it in front of his face. “I’ll make them trust me, just watch me!”

-----

So, a certain someone made an appearance. And our alchemist boy has a much to think about. See you next chapter ;)

[whimperwoods]

29-Day Whump Challenge - Day 9

Day 9:  Car Wreck || Starvation

I did a vampire whumpee last time so I thought I’d do a werewolf whumpee today? Day nine of @yuckwhump‘s 29-Day Challenge. This one’s... uhh... long. But I couldn’t not get to some kind of reasonably comforting resolution.

tw: starvation, tw: trafficking, tw: incarceration, tw: neglect

****

Matt kept his chin up and his feet steady as he walked down the corridor, trying not to show his hand or blow his own cover. The button camera on his shirt would catch all of this. The people who watched it would know everything he said was faking. He just had to get through without getting caught. That was all. He could do this.

The woman leading him on his tour was appallingly cheerful for someone working in a place like this. He knew his own smile wasn’t so convincing, but as long as she kept talking, as long as she kept gesturing toward the open bars of the small cells so that he’d have an excuse to look at them, his smile didn’t have to be real.

There were rows of identical cells, tidy at first glance, but with no rhyme or reason to how their inhabitants were organized. Yeti stared out at him through badly matted fur, gremlins and goblins cowered in the corners of their cells, and vampires glared at him over tight muzzles, the ones who didn’t look at him pleadingly and make his heart half break. He kept careful control of himself, focusing on getting the footage. He just had to get the footage. That was it. Then he could do something about this.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever get the sight of filthy fur and tattered feathers out of his head, but then they started passing a set of doors on his right that were almost entirely closed, solid metal with small windows instead of open bars. The only thing worse than knowing what was happening to the beings in the cells was not knowing, and he drew to a halt, pointing toward the set of doors, four in a row.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said, trying to sound jovial, “Don’t hold out on me! What do you keep in there?”

For the entirety of this hellish tour, his guide had been nothing but upbeat and relaxed. Now, for the first time, he saw a hint of hesitation cross her face before the big smile came back. “Oh, that’s nothing, Sir. You’ll be wanting something ah - better behaved, I’d imagine. They’re only in there if they’re too dangerous for the regular guards to handle.”

Shit. He’d been careful. Intentional. He’d dressed the part, trying to look casually rich, shallow enough to like the idea of a ‘monster’ pet without ever thinking too hard about it. He looked harmless. Naive. Weak.

He puffed his chest out anyway, grinning more broadly and hoping he wasn’t too transparent. He faked a laugh. “Oh, come on. I’m sure I can at least see, right? It’s my money, after all.”

It wasn’t. It was the group’s money, raised over the course of two months, and it was only sitting, hot, in his jacket pocket because it had looked legitimating for when he got here.

The woman bit her lip.

He pouted, trying to look like he imagined someone would who’d been spoiled their whole life. “Come on. Just a peek! I won’t go in or anything!”

Her fake smile came back, but something in her eyes was still tenser than it had been before. “Of course, Sir,” she said, her voice cheerful as ever, “I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just - anything in here is, uh, shall we say less than top-of-the-line? Not permanently, of course, or what would you need us for, but those rooms are more for people looking for - labor. Not really anything to show off to your neighbors yet.”

You have that on tape, he thought to himself, you have that on tape and now you just need a look inside. Stay calm.

He started moving toward the window in the first door, keeping his voice light. “Oh come on, that could be fun! Show off how tough it is to the guys? Maybe get some free gardening out of the deal?” he barked a laugh, “I bet something like that would make a pretty impressive pool boy. And keep all the girls from getting distracted from me.”

That might have been too much. It might have been too much, and he might have overplayed, and she might be about to realize he was pretending all of this. His palms were sweaty. He peeked in the door while he still could and found nothing behind the window.

His guide sighed. “Very well, Sir. I still think you’d do better with some of our higher-end stock, but if you want to see - we’ve only got one occupant in progress right now. But you should be warned, he’s a dangerous one, and it’ll take some serious work to make him safe.”

He waved her off, moving on to the next door and trying to look eager instead of terrified.

Her keys rattled, and she opened the third door.

*****

Drew listened to the voices outside, too tired to do anything about it even if he’d known what to do. He remembered being hungry. No. He was still hungry. He remembered thinking about hunger, but that had been - well, it had been two or three ‘guests’ ago, and he was pretty sure buyers weren’t here every day.

Now, he was just tired. Tired to his bones, which felt like all he had left. He shivered, cold even in his werewolf form.

It was hard to imagine he’d once pulled at his chains and tried to get free. It was hard to imagine being the person who’d struggled so hard he’d raised bruises around his neck from the collar, around his ankles from the shackles.

Every part of him hurt. It hadn’t, at the start. At the start, he’d had a little fat, a lot of muscle, and the hunger had lived in his gut, twisting and painful, but now all he had was bones and the hunger was beating at them, radiating through his body the way heat used to, the way it was supposed to.

He was so cold.

He was so tired.

He listened to the woman talk, as her voice got closer. Dangerous, she said. He wasn’t dangerous. He wasn’t anything. He might have been, once, though he’d never meant to cause anyone any harm, but now - now he was nothing, lying dizzy on the floor and trying to stay warm.

He expected the man to buy her excuses. He expected the footsteps to start up again, a laugh ringing through the hall as they left him behind. Instead, a set of keys rattled, and the door to his prison swung open.

If he raised his head, he would get dizzy. He’d learned that - some time ago. He didn’t know how to measure time, anymore. But he couldn’t look up, and he couldn’t look scary. He had to seem safe. If he was ever going to eat again, he had to look safe.

He gathered the little energy he had left and forced himself to transform again, his fur retreating and his limbs and head reshaping themselves. He cried out weakly with the pain of it, but for once, it wasn’t much worse than everything else.

His body broke out in goosebumps and he shivered, suddenly freezing and unsure that he’d have the strength to transform and get his fur back again. This was it. This might actually be it. If the woman didn’t believe he was safe, while the door was open and someone was actually looking, this might be the end. He wanted to lift his head up, to see what she was thinking, but he didn’t have the strength. Not after the transformation. He closed his eyes and cursed the tears that sprung unbidden from them, reacting to the cold. One dripped down his nose, leaving a trail of more intense cold where it flowed.

Dangerous, she’d said. He whined in the back of his throat, unable to work out the words to say to that, unsure that he’d be able to say them even if he tried.

*****

Matt had kept a straight face since he walked in the door. He’d been so careful. So careful.

But the creature in the room was - his face twisted in revulsion, and it took him too long to hide it. It must have taken him too long to hide it, and he just had to hope his guide hadn’t seen.

The creature was a werewolf, but not like any werewolf he’d ever seen. Its fur was dull, lifeless where it should be glossy, and it was lying sprawled against the ground like it had fallen and just stayed there, its limbs spread out instead of tucked up in a circle. Then again, that might have been because of the chains.

A heavy collar bound its neck, and there were shackles on its ankles, chains running from all three of them to the wall and giving the werewolf access to only half of its small cell. It was lying at the end of its chains, like it had tried to come to its door, like it had tried to ask for help.

Then its body was shifting, and as the fur receded, he thought he must be seeing things, his eyes playing tricks because they wasn’t used to watching bones rearrange themselves like that.

But then the bones stopped shifting, and the figure on the ground, still lying limp and listless on the polished concrete, was unmistakable.

It was a man - or at least more man than boy - with long, filthy brown hair and scarred skin with a grayish cast to it, as sickly as his fur had been.

Matt had never seen so many visible bones in one human being. He was like a skeleton, like some grotesque science display meant to teach only part of anatomy, like Mother at the end of Psycho.

Except, no. He wasn’t. Because his chest was still rising and falling, shallow but steady, and he was shivering, which meant he was alive, and beneath the stark ribs and bone-thin arms, his stomach was weirdly bloated, like his body had admitted everywhere else that it was empty, but was trying to convince itself there that it wasn’t empty after all.

The man whined softly, but didn’t look up at them. He didn’t move his head at all. He didn’t move anything, except to breathe and shiver, and he didn’t look like a thing that should be alive.

“Oh dear,” the woman said beside him, giving him just enough warning to force his face back into - into what? He couldn’t smile, but he forced himself to relax, to look thoughtful instead of furious, even as she put a hand on his shoulder to push him toward the hallway and his chest swelled with rage.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t realize he’d been a biter. We don’t usually - we’d better be moving on. They’ll feed him up, as long as they’re sure the biting has stopped but it’ll be-”

“How much?” he asked, surprising even himself.

“Sir, I can’t possibly-”

Don’t look angry. Don’t look angry. He kept his face as relaxed as he could, as if he could be neutral, looking at a thing like this, as if anyone could be neutral, and he repeated himself, cutting her off. “I asked how much. If I take him.”

Why? he asked himself, Why would she believe me? Then he really did manage a fake smile, against all odds, and felt as brazen as he ever had in his life. “I bet you could give me a real good discount on this one. I mean look at him! He’s practically half a werewolf. I bet he’d do anything if I fed him. I bet he’d follow all my orders. I want him.”

The woman looked pale, now. “You’ll, um - you’ll have to sign extra paperwork. You’ll have to sign an NDA. It’s -” she paused, choosing her words carefully, “It’s extra protection for us, if he tries to attack you. To take care of the liability issues. You understand.”

“An NDA doesn’t change your liability.”

“We’re not usually in the business of selling half-completed products either, Sir, to be frank, and if something goes wrong because you insisted on this one, we don’t want our name attached, not even in the secret circles I’m sure you keep to. Not like we would for - the high end creatures.”

Matt kept breathing. He kept his face level. “I mean, I guess so, but-”

The woman got her fake smile back to its full brightness. “Of course, if you’d like to, we could also keep him here and finish his training for a small upcharge, and you could come claim him when he’s ready. Or I can check in the system for a werewolf who might be more - finished.”

He kept up the fake smile and tried to sound affable. “Aw, come on, finishing’s the fun part, right? Like getting to pick out all your own paint colors or something.”

“If you’re certain, Sir, I can take you back to the office with me, and we’ll have him delivered to the front by the time you’re done.”

Matt’s hands were shaking, and he was terrified that she’d see. He didn’t know if it was rage or fear, but either way, he’d committed himself, and now he had to go through with this.

He thought about shoving his hands in his pockets, but then she laid a hand on the door and he thought of how that heavy metal was going to sound, clanging shut and locking the werewolf away from him, where he couldn’t see him anymore, where he couldn’t protect him, and he stuck a hand out instead, stopping the door before it could close.

“Aw, come on,” he said, “It’ll be fine. He looks like he’s learned his lesson.”

He shoved past her, ignoring her protests, and came up to the other man, kneeling beside him and laying a hand gently on his face to turn it toward him and look into the man’s eyes.

Yes. This was worth it. This was reckless, and meant less footage to use to shut this place down, and meant losing the money he’d been meant to come back with while he ‘thought about which one,’ and it was worth it.

The man’s eyes were half-blind and unfocused, dripping tears.

He looked up at the woman. “You’ve got keys, right? Might as well take him to the office with me. He is about to be mine.”

An extra hard shudder ran through the man’s body and Matt stroked a hand through his hair, wishing he could tell him it would be alright, could just admit right now that things weren’t the way they seemed.

The woman bit her lip, but then started sorting through her keys again.

The collar and shackles came away to reveal old bruises and cuts, partially healed, which made him wonder how long it had been since the man had moved any real distance. He cupped the man’s face gently, trying to communicate that he was alright, then scooped him into his arms.

Matt had never been a strong man, but the werewolf weighed shockingly little. It was like carrying his friend’s doberman, not that he expected the werewolf would particularly appreciate the comparison.

The dog had been hard to carry up and down the stairs when it broke its leg not because of its weight, but because of how much it weighed while also trying to wiggle out of his grasp. The man was perfectly still, only hard to carry because of the way his weight sagged and the awkwardness of keeping ahold of a person Matt suspected might be taller than he was.

He could feel the man shivering against him and pulled him closer. He had to get out of here. They both had to get out.

He tried to keep his breathing steady and his face light, and he stepped out into the hall.

*****

Drew didn’t understand what was happening. The hand on his face and in his hair had been gentle from the moment the man touched him, and the chains were coming off as if - as if they’d noticed how weak he was, probably, but it still felt - it felt - he should be able to move his limbs, when they were this much lighter. He should. It should be better.

Being picked up was dizzying and disorienting, and he felt his eyes tear up again, the world blurring into an even more confusing mess, but then he was in the man’s arms, cradled against his chest, and the cold of the concrete floor was gone, and he didn’t have the strength to move himself, but he had the strength to press just a little into the warmth, to lean just a little into the man’s chest.

The man took a few halting steps and then asked the woman to throw Drew’s arms over his shoulders. She did, rearranging him like he was a doll or a puppet, and he felt more tears springing to his eyes, tears he’d have said, yesterday, that he didn’t have left in him to cry, as dry and hollow as he felt on the inside.

He had the strength to turn his face into the man’s shoulder, to hide the tears, and he did it, and he was rewarded with the slightest, gentlest squeeze tighter, and his throat couldn’t sob and his breath couldn’t hitch and still keep moving, but the tears flowed faster and faster, hot and wet, soaking into his new master’s shirt, and he didn’t know how to stop them.

The man pulled him closer and, when the woman split off for just a second, whispered, “It’s going to be ok.”

He wasn’t sure his mind believed it, but as his body kept crying into the weird, textured cotton of the man’s polo shirt, he knew at least some part of him did.

[jimdroberts]

 “The hero and the coward both feel the same thing. But the hero uses his fear, projects it onto his opponent, while the coward runs. It’s the same thing, fear, but it’s what you do with it that matters.” 

Cus D’amato

We’ve been forced to wait a very long time. Not since the early 70s, with fights like The Rumble in the Jungle, and The Thrilla in Manila, has heavyweight boxing been this entertaining.

The last golden era in the division occurred during the career of one man, Muhammad Ali. An era which saw Ali take on fighters like Sonny Liston, Joe Frazier, George Foreman, Ken Norton, Floyd Paterson and Larry Holmes, each of whom would have been good enough to dominate in any other era.

On Saturday, December 7th, Andy Ruiz will defend the heavyweight boxing titles he took from Anthony Joshua 6 months ago, in a rematch. Ruiz’s win was one of world championship boxing’s biggest upsets. Not since, 1990 and that night in Tokyo, when James ‘Buster’ Douglas knocked out a then undefeated, and what looked like an unbeatable, Mike Tyson. Ruiz’s win was a shock, there can be no doubt about that. Before the fight bookmakers had him at 9-1 against, ridiculous odds in a sport with only two competitors, and where one punch can end a fight. But those odds reflected the chance public opinion gave Ruiz when he defeated Joshua, at the beginning of June, in Madison Square Garden. The, Ruiz – Joshua rematch will formally kick-start a golden era in the heavyweight division, some might argue started already when Deontay Wilder fought a dramatic draw against Tyson Fury. There are, at the moment, five legitimate contenders for the title meaning that all of them will be less likely to cherry pick easy fights and forego a big payday. It really is a case of make hay while the sun shines, except in this case substitute hay for money, and sunshine for punching your opponent in the face.

Boxing Abroad

Heavyweight title fights have historically been held in the United States and on occasions in Europe, fights outside of these two locations are very uncommon. But holding one of sports biggest prizes in an out of the way, exotic location from which neither boxer originates is not new. Such fights do, somehow, capture the imagination as well as huge piles of cash. These locations have been decided purely for the financial benefits to the boxers and the potential for generating positive publicity for the hosts. In some instances this has seen the blending of sport and morally bankrupt ideologies, which for a time are forgotten until several weeks after the fights conclusion.

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January 22, 1973, The Sunshine Showdown, Kingston, Jamaica. When Foreman annihilated Frazier, knocking him down six times before scoring a technical knock out with one minute and twenty-five seconds of the second round still to go. Foreman achieved this despite going into the fight a 4-1 underdog.

October 30, 1974, The Rumble in the Jungle, Kinshasa, Zaire. Both boxers were paid $5 million. To put this into context, Joe Louis, world heavyweight champion from, 1937 to, 1949. Who made a record twenty-five consecutive defenses of his title, never made $5 million throughout his entire career.

October 1, 1975, The Thrilla in Manilla, maybe the most iconic boxing match of all time. Staged by president Marcos to divert attention away from the civil war that was being fought in the Philipines at that time.  Ali walking away with $9 million and Frazier netting $5 million. To give these figures some perspective, both Wilder and Ortiz were paid $4.5 million in disclosed purses for their second fight a couple of weeks ago, this does not include their shares of pay per view television,

February 11, 1990, A fight that was expected to be so one sided that nobody bothered to give it a name. What was certain is that nobody in America was willing to pay for the right to host Mike Tyson to destroy James “Buster” Douglas inside of three minutes. With now mythical odds of 42-1 against, Douglas achieved the impossible inside the Tokyo Dome, Japan. 42-1 against. When Foreman beat Frazier twenty-seven years earlier it was considered a shock with Foreman overcoming odds of 4-1. Tyson was paid $6 million, Douglas walked away undisputed heavyweight champion and $1.6 million richer.

April 21, 2001, Lamely given the moniker Thunder in Africa. Obviously rumble in the jungle was the beginning and end of any catchy rhyme and wordplay when it came to fighting in this continent. With   Rahman a 20-1 underdog, this was thought to be such a one-sided affair that no Las Vegas casino was willing to pay the amount South Africa was, to stage the fight, Rahman being paid $1.5 million, while Lewis made $7 million. In similar fashion to Buster Douglas, Rahman shook the boxing world, knocking out Lewis with a straight right driven through the sloppy guard of the champion in the fifth. Compare this fight to the Ali fights, nearly thirty years earlier and you appreciate how Ali captured the world’s imagination and generated  the extreme revenue necessary to justify his purse.

December 7, 2019 In the crazy cash sports era of today Joshua will earn at least $40 million, Ruiz will take away $9 million, and both will have an agreed cut of the pay per view revenue, details of which I haven’t been able to find. Needless to say, they’re both walking away rich men.

The history of heavyweight boxing in obscure locations is colorful and littered with upsets. Ruiz, Joshua promises to be a far closer fight with no heavy underdog. In fact it’s much in debate as to who the underdog is.

    Why Ruiz Will Win

As in the first fight, I expect to see Joshua touching cloth on multiple occasions in the rematch.

Styles are said to make fights, it might equally as well be said that styles break fighters. Ruiz’s style couldn’t be any more awkward for Joshua. On paper, and to the eye, Joshua would win every time, but Ruiz has the box of tricks to beat Joshua. Ruiz’s main strength is his hand speed and accuracy. What this crudely translates into is, Ruiz’s fists spending more time connecting with Joshua’s head and face. Ruiz’s movement is also deceptively good, and he has proven that he has durability having been knocked down by Joshua, then coming back to destroy him. Joshua’s strength will always give him the ‘puncher’s chance’,  but Ruiz is likely to throw and land more punches. Meanwhile Joshua hasn’t convinced when under pressure of a high volume puncher. AJ was floored four times by Ruiz, ans was knocked down once when he fought Klitschko. Ruiz’s style of throwing quick combinations is AJ’s Achilles heel.

It’s ironic to remember that it was Eddie Hearn who cursed the career of Joshua when he selected him as the replacement for Jarrell Miller after the latter had failed multiple drug tests. Ruiz had only one month to prepare for the first fight, but had fought at the end of April, meaning he was already conditioned. But that should have counted for little when it came to fighting the multi titled world champion and former Olympic gold medalist. Few gave Ruiz any chance, including the bookmakers who were offering 25/1 against Ruiz winning by stoppage.To their credit, the Irish newspaper Independent.ie considered Ruiz to be more dangerous than the  originally intended opponent, Jarrell Miller. 

What AJ has in size and strength, he lacks in speed and skill. That’s not to say Joshua is slow and without talent, it’s just that up until now it’s been his size and strength that have been most telling in the fights he has won, Ruiz has the skill set to neutralize Joshua’s attributes.

One of the more amusing things about the fighters is that they have both been criticised for their physiques. In the past, Andy’s figure has been on the adipose, rotund end of the conditioning spectrum. Joshua meanwhile has been criticised for being over conditioned. AJ has some glaring similarities to Frank Bruno, he carries too much muscle bulk which ultimately makes him powerful, but slow. It’s been said that Joshua is looking to address this matter, but how quickly and how successfully he can reshape his physique is a question that remains to be answered.

While it looks impressive, too much muscle slows a boxer down

pkt5282-394323 FRANK BRUNO BOXER It was too much to expect the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. This is heavyweight boxing for the big bucks after all. But when the manager of Lennox Lewis said there waws absolutely nothing bad aboiut Frank Bruno’s performance, at least he had the good grace to do so with a smile and ask: ‘Is my nose growing?’

It’s difficult not to support Ruiz, and I’m British. Ruiz is only getting 25% of the purse, and despite cutting weight  still bares a striking resemblance to British comic Johnny Vegas, a man whose act centres on him being drunk and unhealthy, but who doesn’t love Johnny Vegas?

They do actully look like each other.

It’s not just that they’re both fat.

In the future, out of Ruiz, Fury, Usyk and Wilder, I can only see Joshua beating Wilder. The other three have far higher boxing IQ’s, far better movement and hand speed. It’s the hand speed, combined with questionable durability that makes me believe that Joshua would succumb to any of , Fury, Ruiz or Uszyk.

Twenty-twenty, might be a format of cash fueled cricket, but it will also be remembered as the year of the mega fights in heavyweight boxing. The year that should see the Fury-Wilder rematch, Uszyk fighting one of these four, and Wilder fighting Joshua or Ruiz. Be cause the division has five huge talents it’s difficult to see how these fights can be avoided, and the huge pay per view revenue any combination of these fights would make should be too tempting to resist. Twenty twenty is the year that will stay long in the memory of boxing fans around the world. And my prediction as to who will be king of the hill,

Usyk

The talent of Oleksander Usyk will ensure that the heavyweight gold rush of twenty-twenty will sustain itself for a few more years, with any combination of huge fights. The countries that these fights end up being hosted in, and for what cause, remains the most difficult thing to predict.

Ruiz Vs. Joshua – A Gold Rush in a New A Golden Era of Heavyweight Boxing  “The hero and the coward both feel the same thing. But the hero uses his fear, projects it onto his opponent, while the coward runs.