#this took me 8 million years to draw for no good reason

[illustromic]

yknow of all the lore possibilities for 2024 I never saw the skater boy arc coming lmao but hey whatever makes him happy x'D

[ahedderick]

Weird Wednesday

   I had an appointment yesterday morning at the Diagnostic Center near the hospital for a bone density scan and some bloodwork*. I do hope they find that I’m Sufficiently Dense.   On the way there I encountered a large white van with business decals stopped right in the middle of the road so the driver could get in a screaming match with a dark-haired man on the side of the road. No way to get around him. “Grr” I though, and put on my flashers to wait. Whitebeard gets out of the van, throws his coat down on the ground, and proceeds across the road to scream more effectively at Darkbeard.

Here is a sample:“ jshdgF'ingjhsdfg  F’ING DAWG I will skdF'inggFjshdf  YOU! FjdhF'inggkjshdgf FFFF!! Dawg! "

   This was upsetting to me. I was about to be late to an appointment, I hate screaming, I didn’t want to witness a fist fight, I was unsure of the correct ethical action if there was a fistfight, and the implication that Darkbeard had been beating a dog didn’t make it any better.   Fortunately it broke up before blows were exchanged. Whitebeard picked his coat up and huffed and puffed back into his van. He drove away, and I took a deep breath and turned off my flashers.

   A hundred yards down the road, in a wide spot, he pulled over to the side. Leaned out his window and motioned for me to stop. I did, and opened my own window.    Making a real effort to control his language (in the presence of a presumed lady) he apologized for my wait and told me he loved dogs and couldn’t abide seeing one abused. He was still frothing slightly but trying to be nice. I assured him gravely that I understood, and rushed off to the appointment.

   I arrived at 8:58, which is technically on time. The Diagnostic Center frequently has wait times of (subjectively) seven to ten million years. When I hustled my ass in there, I was joyful to see the waiting room had a total of five people, and wait times to be served were 6 minutes or less. I nearly cried. Indeed, although the room started filling up, I only had to wait five minutes until they checked my paperwork, then an additional couple of minutes until I was called by the technician. This is amazing! As I walked back toward the phlebotomy lab, I heard my name called again back in the waiting room. The bone density lady was also looking for me. I felt like the popular girl. Or a stray sheep confronted with two border collies. The blood draw took about two minutes and the Bone Tech was waiting listlessly by the door when I hopped out of the seat. She seemed to accept my apology, though, and took me into the Hidden Bowels of the building**. I was laid on the sacrificial scanning table and my feet were strapped down to keep my hips still. They scan hips and lower back, on the assumption that that will give a reasonable picture of overall bone health.   I did not ask her how dense I was. I wanted to. That process was also very brief, and I was on my way out the door. The whole experience was surreal. I don’t know how much good luck I used up, maybe several weeks worth. In a few days, if I can figure out the patient portal, I will know interesting things about my bones. * No big issue, just "You’re 50 so we’re going to check a few things out”

** I am more than usual certain that this building IS bigger on the inside than the outside. Like - I have good eyes for distance and proportion. And I feel like I’ve walked sixty yards back the hallway in a building that is forty yards long MAX on the outside.

[the-broken-truth]

Senior!! May i ask you a question? Are the requests still open?

If yes, could you do a Donna Beneviento x Child!reader? (Platonic-Comforting). Okay so, one day, the reader is really Curious about their mother face because its always covered under her long black veil.

Since the reader wanted to know their mother real face even though the reader already knew from the picture that was displayed on the wall, having an opportunity when their mother is working on her new doll, the reader suddenly lifts her veil up and shows a mutant or a big scar on the right side of donna's face.

Knowing this, Donna immediately slapped their hand away and accidentally slapped her child until their cheeks turned red. Instead of crying, the reader suddenly hug her tightly and apologize for million times because the reader lifting up her veil without her permission.

Donna burst into tears and explained why she was hiding her face because she was afraid that the reader would feel embarrassed or disgusted with her. however, the reader assures their mother that they will not do such a thing and they're grateful that they can be her child

Andd if the requests are closed, please ignore this request and take your time^^ thank you very much, i hope you have a great day/night.

Mommy's Cloth Face - Donna Beneviento x Child Reader [Platonic]

Broken Truth: Hey, @snowflakestree! Just wanted to let you know that - yes, the requests are still open; I recently opened them and don't intend to close them anytime soon. Thanks for the ask and now I shall have to honor of writing this interesting request.

- Quick Key -

[Y/N] - YOUR FIRST NAME

[H/L] - HAIR LENGTH

Broken Truth: The Reader's Last Name shall be Beneviento and their age shall be 8. Eight years olds are very curious, at least I was at that age. Their hair & eyes will be black - the same as their mother's. As for their skin, they would be rather pale, living in the Valley of Mist doesn't give much sunlight

Curious black eyes stared at the large portrait that hung against the wall where the stairs rested; focused on the face of the Head of House Beneviento. Tiny feet were planted firmly at the top of the stairs, looking at the portrait as if to see something they had missed before; even though they've seen that same picture every day since they began aware of their surrounding but something was always drawing them to the painting of the Head of House Beneviento. They were going to question themselves when a suddenly...

"GOOD MORNING, [Y/N]!!!" A sudden loud voice shouted behind them, making them jolt forward with a chill up their spine as they began falling forward in the direction of the stairs. Black eyes narrowed as they turned to where their back was to the stairs and shot their hand out - sending 5 red strings shot from the tips of their fingers and nail into the wall, stopping their fall mid-air with their heels at the top of the stairs.

Broken Truth: What? You thought I wasn't gonna give them some kind of power? Please, what would be boring and the Broken Truth doesn't do boring.

[Y/N']'s Power: Puppeteer's Stingers - [Y/N] calls mental control links - that appear in the form of puppet strings from the tips of their fingers; whoever the strings touch, [Y/N] can control their every move or control the area around them.

"For the love of Mother Miranda, Angie, why must you scare me at the worst times?" [Y/N] asked as they pulled themselves back to the top of the stairs - the moment their feet touched solid wood, they lifted their hand to recall the puppet's strings.

"It's not my fault you were distracted. Besides, why were you just staring at Donna's painting like you? it's not something new, ya know." The doll said as she floated round the young master/mistress of House Beneviento.

"I know - it's something else." [Y/N] said as they turned on their heel and walked down the stairs to head to the study to look for their mother.

"What is it then?" Angie asked as she followed them.

"Mommy's always wearing her veil around - even in the house & around me; I wanna know why. The only thing I have to her face is that painting." [Y/N] said as he and Angie reached the study; the doll was quiet for a moment before she spoke in a softer voice.

"Some things are better to be left alone, [Y/N]. There's a reason Mother wears the veil and she doesn't want to take about it." Angie said, almost in a sad tone of voice.

"What could be so bad that Mom doesn't trust me with it?" [Y/N] asked with hurt floating in their black eyes.

"Sorry." That was the last thing Angie said before she floated away to do her own thing. [Y/N] just stood there with their hands clenched by their side, looking at the ground with hurt in their heart at the numerous amounts of questions that were floating around their 8-year-old mind.

'What is Mommy hiding from me? What is under that veil that she doesn't trust me with?' They stood there and through for a while before opening their eyes and making the choice then and there. 'I'm gonna see what's under that veil.' With resolve in their heart, The Future Lord/Lady of House Beneviento went off to find their mother - who happened to be in her creation room to make a new doll.

[Y/N] peeked around the corner of the threshold that led to their mother's Doll Creation Room - doll parts of many shapes and sizes hung from chains on the ceiling while other parts - like joints, sockets, eyes, and fingers - were kept in small drawers or jars tucked away in the shelf.

Sitting in the chair at the table - littered with doll parts - was the woman down in a black dress, a mysterious veil over her head - covering her face, and her hands - the only thing that remained uncovered - as they moved along the doll parts to assemble them into a body - that woman was Donna Beneviento - The Head of House Beneviento and mother of [Y/N] Beneviento.

The child took a calming exhale - to strengthen their nerves and resolve; they had to do this or they were going to go their entire life without knowing the truth.

"Mommy." [Y/N] called out to their mother as her hands froze over the doll torso she was connecting the legs to as she turned around in her seat to look at her son/daughter, who just stood in the doorway with nervousness in their small black eyes - eyes just like hers.

"[Y/N] Dear, is there something wrong?" Donna asked in her concerned motherly voice.

"No, Momma. I just...I wanna know - Why do you always wear your veil around me? Why don't you show me your face?" [Y/N]'s question made the breath in Donna's throat catch as she turned back in her seat, unable to look in her child's direction.

"Momma has some...issues and she prefers to wear the veil for the betterment of everyone. It's nothing to worry about, darling; just go play with Angie and the other dolls." Donna said in her low voice as she went back to fiddling with the incomplete doll; it became quiet in the room as if she was the only one left - [Y/N] must have listened to her and went to play with the other dolls.

Wrong.

The child still stood there - their mind running with thoughts - they weren't thinking straight. They were some in depths with their own mind that they didn't notice their body moving closer to their mother, nor did they feel their arm lift or their hand reaching for the veil before clenching into a fist.

It was the sudden "NO!" from their mother that made them snap back into reality and become aware of their surroundings, but it was too late. The veil was in their hand that was now at their side - revealing their mother's face to them...

As well as the massive growth of flesh that overtook the woman's right side of her face - completely replacing her right eye. [Y/N]'s eyes widened at their mother's face - the horror and fear in her eye - as they dropped the veil and reached for it; BAD MOVE.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!!!" Donna's voice yelled as her hand lashed out to slap her child's hand away from her face but in her disorder, she missed her child's hand but made perfect contact with their cheek, making them fall to the ground - sitting on the ground with their eyes wide and their hand on the sore cheek. Once again - fear took Donna's face - she just struck her child, her child saw her face; they would mostly be running away in horror if they weren't paralyzed in pain.

"Oh my god! [Y/N], I'm so sorry! I didn't been t hurt you! I...It was a reflex, I would never hurt you, ever!" Donna panicked, trying to come up with an acceptable excuse for what happened but she came up with nothing. Tears began falling down her face but before she could open her mouth to speak - the sudden weight of her child crashing into her mid-section and wrapping their arms around her while sobbing in her chest made her quiet; looking down at the child who held her for dear life.

"I'M SORRY, MOMMA! I DIDN'T MEAN TO SCARE YOU! I'M A BAD [SON/DAUGHTER]! I DIDN'T MEAN TO HURT YOU, PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!" The child begged with tears flooding their eyes.

Donna was confused.

Her child wasn't afraid of her?

Her child was angry at her for striking them?

Her child was begging for forgiveness...for scaring her?

She looked down at the child who looked into her eye with tears down their cheeks.

"You...you're not afraid or disgusted with me, [Y/N]?" Donna asked in her low voice - this made the child look at her wide-eyed and confused.

"What? No, why would I be Momma?" The child asked - completely confused.

"Dear..." Donna rubbed the back of her baby's head. "So many people have hurt me because of my face. They would bully me and ignore me. When I started wearing my veil, people started befriending me but once they saw my face...they would abandon me. I didn't want to lose you over my looks, my child. I thought...once you saw my face...I would be alone again." Donna closed her eye - letting all the tears fall.

"Then all those people are idiots!" [Y/N] yelled, making Donna look at them again. "If they couldn't see the really awesome person you are, then they are the ugliest of all people! My Mom is the most beautiful person in the village...no, IN THE WORLD! NOT EVEN AUNTIE ALCINA OR GRANDMA MIRANDA CAN MATCH HOW PRETTY MY MOMMA IS!!" [Y/N] cried out as they reached up and placed a gentle kiss on the mass of flesh that took their mother's eyes. The head of house cried again before hugging her child for dear life as she thanked them for staying with her and loving her...as not even her own mother did.

As time went on, Donna would no longer wear the veil around the house or around her child. [Y/N] was happy to see their mom happy and now had the inspiration to draw pictures to show at the village school...which caused a few people to say mean things about Donna, resulting in [Y/N] being suspended for a week for nearly killing 5 students. When Donna asked them why used their powers to bend the bullies' limbs in inhumane positions and almost kill them, the child answered.

"They were talking crap about my beautiful Momma and that don't fly."

It got a lot worse when [Y/N] grew up and started going into the village to do teenage things - one negative whisper about Donna Beneviento would get your neck twisted the other way & it didn't matter if you said it around them.

Their little puppet ravens always find out who said what about his beautiful mother and they would pay...DEARLY.

[aka-ashi-keiji]

“i can’t hear you”

Bakugou Katsuki x best friend reader

soft angst

tw: screaming, emotional meltdown.

short fic about bakugou and you’re his childhood best friend, and you help him through dealing with his hearing loss. enjoy lovies.

*******************************************************

You woke up to the sound of your mother knocking on your door and yelling, “y/n wake up, you have training today with katsuki. i love that boy but i am not in the mood to deal with his explosive attitude over you being late .” You lived right next door to katsuki all your life and since your moms were best friends, you guys were best friends since you learned how to walk. Every saturday you guys would train from 8 AM to noon in his garage since it was basically a mini gym, and then after you both would head over to your house. You checked the time on your phone on the bedside table and it read 7:50. “SHIT MOM WHY DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER” you yelled as you jumped out of bed and quickly found a black tank top and grey sweatpants to train in. You could hear your mom chuckling as she walked away from your door. You grabbed your headphones, phone, water bottle, and Nike’s before yelling a goodbye and dashing over to Katsuki’s front yard. 

You knocked on his door four times so that his family knew it was you. You were halfway through slipping your shoes on when Mitsuki answered. She yawned and pulled you into a side hug. “Good morning y/n, you hungry?” She asked as she closed the door behind you guys and started towards the kitchen. “No thanks Mitsuki, I don’t like to train on a full stomach. My mom is making a huge lunch though, you guys are welcome to join us.” You said cheerfully, but kept your voice low since it was very early and you could tell Katsuki’s mom was still half asleep. She nodded and then whipped her head to face you wearing a look on her face as if she had just remembered something very important. “Kat has been very on edge lately and not very responsive this week.” She paused before starting again and turned her gaze to the floor, almost as if she didn’t want to talk. “I think it might have to do with his hearing. He won’t admit it, but I think his quirk is finally starting to affect him. Good thing we put him in those sign language classes as a precaution.” she laughed dryly and then turned back to look at you. “Just, take it easy him with the teasing today okay? and maybe try speaking a little louder. I’ll go see if he’s ready” and with that she gathered herself up the stairs and disappeared. 

You thought silently as you waited, and all of a sudden it made sense. Lately at school bakugou has been yelling more than usual, and telling everyone to speak louder. Maybe he was yelling more to be able to hear himself? You didn’t know. Bakugou has been learning sign language since he was 7 years old as a precaution for this and has been regularly signing while he talks since he was 10. So, bakugou using his sign language all the time wasn’t uncommon, but maybe Mitsuki was right. You made a mental note not to say anything until you actually noticed a big change in your guys’ training. You waited patiently for about another 10 minutes before Katsuki finally came downstairs. 

“Hey idiot, nice outfit.” Katsuki greeted you in his groggy morning voice, his hands signing his words lazily. You looked down at the tank top and sweatpants you were wearing and looked back to him, you both were wearing the same exact thing. “Morning pom pom” you greeted back as you gathered your things and started to head towards the garage. You turned around to see bakugou staring into nothing, so you called out. “Hey kat, you coming?” No response. You repeated yourself, but this time loud enough you were sure you woke his dad. He whipped his head towards you and nodded before following along. As you were walking down the hall, you turned to him and asked, “You okay?” while signing your words. Katsuki looked down at your hands and his cheeks started to dust with the lightest shade of pink. He huffed and his red eyes sparked as he just growled out a ‘yeah’ and walked ahead of you into the garage, starting to set up for your session. You yourself had picked up sign language at a young age because your dad was deaf because his quirk was being able to shoot sonic booms from his hands. you pressed the button to open the garage door and let some light in. You then walked over to the speakers and plugged your phone in as you hit play on your playlist specifically for training days. Bakugou stopped setting up the bench press station and yelled, “Can you turn it up? “ as he signed quickly, but then went back to putting the weights together. You turned back to the speaker only to be surprised since the volume was already almost at max capacity. You shook your head and turned the volume all the way up. This session should be interesting. 

It was around 9:30 AM at this point and you and Kat had finished weights and went on a 2 mile run. You were currently sitting on the floor stretching your quads as the loud techno music boomed around you. You glanced over at katsuki who was stretching on the other side of the garage and he seemed to be in a whole other universe. You called out to him, but he didn’t do so much as flinch. You picked yourself up off the floor and slowly walked towards him. You called a few more times and still got nothing from him, so you decided to turn off the music. As soon as you did Katsuki’s head shot up and his eyes darted towards you. “What the hell was that for dipshit? We’re gonna start sparring soon, we need it.” He said/yelled at you while you sauntered over to him and took a seat about a foot away from his now steaming body. You wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your arm before talking to katsuki, well you didn’t exactly talk with your voice, you were mostly signing. “Katsuki are you sure you’re okay? You’re not responding when I call out for you.” You waited for his response as his eyes stayed on your hands that were once moving. This time he answered, but for some reason he didn’t sign. “If I tell you, you can’t tell a single soul you hear me dumbass? Not even my parents. “ You nodded your head and gently reach over to squeeze his hand four times, your guys’ way of saying I promise. He then began to talk, and signed very aggressively as he did so, and what he said was enough to shatter you into a million pieces. 

 “I’ve been struggling in a way lately,” he started, “I tried to cover it up by just yelling all the time hoping people would just think it was my normal behavior. But, really it was so i could he hear myself.” Katsuki let out a long breath and you could see his hands slightly shaking. “It started out last week as just a slight ringing, but it got louder every damn day. But, this week the ringing got quieter, and eventually everything around me started to sound like I was underwater. “ He looked up at you and your breath hitched, tears rolled down katsuki’s face as he held eye contact. He shook out his hands and took another shakey breath before he began, “I- I can barely hear you y/n! And its so frusturating.” the volume of his voice was rising, and you could see the pain he was feeling through his eyes and the tears that were now dripping down to his shirt. “I can’t hear your fucking voice damnit! It’s the only one that doesn’t drive me up fucking walls.  it terrifies me!” He was screaming at this point as his hands worked through the air to express his words. The tears came at a much quicker pace once he had stopped to breathe, and those tear turned into sobs as he curled in on himself. He tucked his knees to his chest and ducked his head into his arms as they wrapped around his legs. His shoulders and back shook as he cried, and for a moment you didn’t know what to do. You haven’t seen Katsuki cry since you both were 8 years old and he was playing with his quirk and accidently blasted your arm. He started crying as soon as he heard you wail in pain, and the lecture from his mother didn’t help in the slightest. You subconsciously reached up to rest your hand on the scar as you tried to think of what you could say to him.

 Katsuki leveled his head and looked up at you, and slowly reached his hand out, still crying quietly. For a second you didn’t know what he meant, but it soon clicked in your head and you took his hand in yours. you looked at him with teary eyes and signed, “How can i help?” He untucked his legs from his chest and moved closer to you. Then, before you could even register what was happening, Katsuki had his arms around your waist with his head on your shoulder. You froze, it had been quite some time since either of you had needed a hug like this. once your shock had subsided, you brought your hands to rest on his upper back and rubbed soothingly. He began to cry again, which then led to sobs just like they had before. You began to talk, whispering variations of ‘I’m here’ and ‘You don’t have to be scared’, only to remember that he probably can’t hear you. Seeing katsuki as vulnerable as this broke your heart, and single tear fell from your face. Katsuki could feel your jaw muscles moving against the side of his face, so he knew you were talking, but he couldn’t hear you. “I- i- i- I can’t hear! I can’t hear you! Y/n I can’t hear you, fix it please, please I hate this so much!” He screamed into your shoulder which luckily muffled it enough to not draw any attention from the neighbors. He gripped onto your waist tighter as he breathed long and hard breaths. “I’m so scared. I’m terrified of losing you.” He whispered. This had confused you so you gently placed your hands on his shoulders and put a bit of distance between you guys so he could see you signing. “What do you mean you’re gonna lose me? I’m not going anywhere.” You said and waited for his response. He brought his trembling hands up to start signing and began, “I’m scared that if i can’t hear you, I won’t hear you calling me for help when you’re in danger. What kind of hero am I if i can’t even save my best friend?” You took one of his hands in yours and began to sign with your other. “You’re gonna be okay, We’re both gonna get you through this. I know you, and you don’t take shit from no one. And I know damn well you’re not gonna let a little hearing loss get in the way of beating deku.” He laughed slightly at the last statement, and seeing his small smile was like the world coming off of your shoulders. “We’ll take you to the doctor, they’ll help you.” He shook his head at that and his angry glowering returned. “It’s not anything to be embarrassed about. And I’m sure your parents would do anything to help you become the hero you want to be.” You finished your monologue and squeezed his hand four times, promising him you’re not going anywhere. He smiled down at his hand and then brought his other one up to sign, “I love you shithead” and you signed back, “Yeah I know, I love you too Kat”.

 He began to stand up and Katsuki pulled you up with him.  He immediately pulled you into the tightest bear hug possible. No one knew, but Katsuki was the biggest hugger, and it was your favorite thing about him. You released your arms from his waist and he released his hold around your shoulders. You took the sides on his face in your hands, and pointed to your lips as a signal to read your words. He nodded his head, and in a volume Katsuki couldn’t hear, you said, “I can hear you, I can hear you.”. He nodded and smiled the most genuine smile you’d seen out of him in years. “You ready?” he signed, and you answered “for what?”. He smirked and was quiet for a few seconds before shoving you to the side a little and running off towards your house. “Race you!” he yelled, “First one there, is your mom’s favorite you loser.” Kat called again. You smiled and shook your head as you sprinted off after him, remembering this is the Katsuki that will be the #1 hero someday. 

***************************************🌸

[loving-daisy]

Cry For Me | George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist | Cry For Me Masterlist 

Chapter 8 - I Can’t Seem To Hate You

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: angst, bullying

--------------------

“Why in Salazar Slytherin, is someone like you doing outside of here?!” The blonde 4th year Slytherin demanded after the sight of a Gryffindor loitering around the dungeons made him stop in his tracks. 

But like a true Gryffindor, and a true Weasley, the ginger paid him no attention causing Draco to get annoyed. “I’m talking to you!” He added, crossing his arms. 

The tall 6th year merely gave Draco a glance, shaking his head. “You really should learn how to mind your own business, Malfoy.” 

Draco Malfoy being...Draco Malfoy, wasn’t going to let his guard down just like that. As much as he despised Gryffindors, Weasleys, and what-his-family-calls-”blood-traitors”, he knew the reason why one half of the Weasley twins were around the place where Slytherins gather. He knew the reason why George Weasley was standing outside his house’s common room. And after forming a new bond with the Slytherin queen, he wanted nothing more but to protect her. 

The blonde Slytherin stood tall, his face displayed into a sour scowl, getting close to the ginger before voicing out his threat. “You listen here, Weasley. If you don’t want me to call Professor Snape, you best be on your way out of this place and never come back. Ever.” 

George took a step back, scoffing, before his eyes landed on Y/N Icestone’s best friend who was making her way towards the common room entrance. “Greengrass!” The ginger called, waving his hand. 

The girl stopped in her tracks, her eyes landing on the Gryffindor then to Malfoy then to the Gryffindor again. Daphne and Draco made a brief eye contact, the girl almost immediately understanding the blonde’s intentions. The girl cleared her throat, brows raised as she pointed to herself. “Me?” 

George nodded as an answer. “Yes, you. Can you call Y/N for me? Please?” He pleaded, his eyes soft as if he was desperate to get out of Draco Malfoy’s presence and get into the arms of the girl he loved. 

Daphne shook her head. “No-”

“I’m here. What do you want?” A voice, her tone as cold as ice, monotonously said. Three heads turned towards Y/N Icestone who had a blank expression on her face. Three faces were shocked to see her make her presence known, in those three, the two Slytherins were on the verge of pulling her away from the one who was on the verge of pulling her away to demand an explanation. 

“Y/N-” 

Icestone pierced her cold eyes to the brown warm ones. “You have no right to address me with my first name, Weasley.” 

George Weasley was speechless. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. Millions of thoughts started to run in his head, trying his best to put them all together like a puzzle piece, to know why Y/N Icestone suddenly had a change of demeanor towards him. 

The girl scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You know, if you’re going to waste my time-”

“What does this mean?” The ginger blurted out. Suddenly, his hand was going through his robe pockets to fish out the note the girl had sent to him this morning. 

Y/N’s lips curled. “Are you suddenly blind that you can’t even read anymore?” She questioned, giving a brief look at the letter, seeing remnants of cream in it. 

George was starting to lose his patience. Honestly, George didn’t know what he was feeling at this moment. He didn’t know if he was happy because Y/N Icestone was still talking to him or if he was mad because none of the words coming out of her were giving him the satisfaction. “I’m serious.” 

“Hi Serious, it’s really not a pleasure to meet you. Now if you would please get out of my face and go back to whatever nasty place you belong to, I would be delighted.” The girl remarked before making her way towards Daphne, linking her arms with her to pull her towards the common room. 

“Listen, Y/N-” George was once again cut off by Y/N.

“One more thing, Weasley. Do not ever talk to me again. Ever.” She quipped, finally walking away from the ginger. 

Before Draco was able to give another threat, he too, was cut off by the girl. “Draco, let it go. Come now.” 

And there George was, alone and defeated, his last sight being Draco Malfoy’s threatening glare. 

____________________

“She won’t talk to me! She doesn’t want me to explain. At all!” The younger Weasley twin complained, arms crossed as he took a seat beside his sister at the Gryffindor common room. 

“I actually wouldn’t blame her though.” Fred expressed, shrugging, earning a glare from his brother.

“I mean, imagine finding out that your boyfriend was actually just pretending to like you to make you fall in love with him...I’d throw a fit too, honestly. Wouldn’t you, Ginny?” He mumbled to not draw attention. Although most students of Hogwarts have heard the news of Y/N Icestone dumping George Weasley. Some say that she dumped her for someone younger, someone like Draco Malfoy perhaps, seeing as the two Slytherins suddenly got so close. Some say that the Icestones gave the Weasleys a huge amount of gold in exchange for George staying away from Y/N, seeing that the Weasley’s reputation isn't good enough for the Icestones. Some even say that they knew that the two would never last. Gryffindors and Slytherins don’t really match afterall. 

“But I was just wondering how…” Fred paused in thought, careful with his words. “She wouldn't have confronted you about it earlier if she already knew about it…” He trailed off, giving off a confused facial expression.

Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s obvious, Fred. She wanted George to feel what she felt.” She advertised, earning a nod from Fred in agreement. “She’s smarter than I thought.”

“Yeah, and mean!” George grunted, shaking his head from left to right. “I can’t believe that I actually fell for her! I should have known.”

“Oh think about it, Georgie. It was basically you who started it.” The older ginger gloated. 

“Me?!” George challenged. “It was you! You were the one who schemed all this! You were the mastermind behind this!” He exclaimed. 

The sudden outburst coming from the group of Weasleys seated together caught the attention of everyone in the common room. Those gossiping started to gossip even more, their topic diverting into the Weasley twins. Those studying paused to watch the exchange. I mean, who doesn’t want to stick their noses up to family drama? 

“You’re actually blaming this on me? Well, you were the one who agreed to do it! I was only suggesting it!” Fred affirmed. 

“Suggesting?! Are you hearing yourself right now, you dimwit?! You practically forced me to do it! Saying that we’re gonna get revenge and prank the shit out of Slytherin’s stupid pride!” 

“Merlin’s beard, will you two dimwits please shut up!” The female Weasley grumbled, standing up from her seat after slapping the backs of her brother’s heads. “It was both of you! The both of you were to blame! Now please, if you want to fix this, you guys make up and actually apologize to Y/N.” 

The common room erupted into murmurs after hearing the Slytherin's name. Good information for a good morning gossip for tomorrow’s breakfast at the Great hall. 

“Boys are so annoying.” Muttered Ginny, before stepping away from the scene. 

____________________

“Salazar! Did you see the look on bloody Weasley’s face? He looked like he was about to cry!” Daphne giggled, earning a smirk from Y/N and Draco. 

“Well, he deserved it!” Y/N smiled. She turned to face Draco, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you, by the way.” 

The blonde Slytherin offered a small smile. “It was nothing.” 

“Oh but it was! You really are scary aren’t you? If I was him, I would have peed my pants.” Daphne crooned, Y/N nodding in agreement. Draco’s smile grew wider. 

____________________

The next morning at the Great hall, as expected, the controversial relationship between the famous Gryffindor mischief maker and Slytherin’s royal ice queen was once again the talk of the castle. 

The moment George entered the hall, all attention was diverted to him. It’s not like he didn’t want attention. I mean, Fred and George liked the attention, the applause and compliments that they heard when people liked their prank or their very useful product that gets you out of class when you don’t feel like attending it. However, the attention George was receiving right now was not pleasant at all. All eyes were on him, yes, but almost all of those eyes were glaring at him. 

Students seated at the Hufflepuff table were giving him sad and disappointed looks. Fred and George’s pranks were a good laugh but playing with a girl’s heart is just too much. 

Those in the Ravenclaw had raised brows. How dare him play with Y/N Icestone’s heart? Does he have no respect for himself and his family? 

Those in Gryffindor were ashamed. At first, they felt bad for their housemate but after hearing the conversation between the twins and Ginny, they sent their sympathies towards the Slytherin more. 

Students sorted in Slytherin were the worst. They were glaring at him, mocking him, and even giving him some snide remarks. “You just earned yourself a lot of enemies, Weasley. Watch your back.” Threatened Adrian Pucey. 

As the ginger sat on his usual spot at the Gryffindor table, his eyes studied the Slytherin table, trying to locate the girl who had been occupying his mind while trying not to make eye contact with those who were glaring at him. When his eyes planted at a mop of blonde hair, Malfoy’s hair, his eyes squinted. 

“Merlin, am I seeing this right or is Malfoy sitting with Icestone and Greengrass?” Ron, who was seated on his right, said what’s exactly on George’s mind. 

Hermione, seated in front of Ron, gave a glance before shaking her head. “That’s none of your business, Ronald.” 

The 4th year Weasley grunted. “It is if it’s true that bloody Icestone actually left my brother for stupid Malfoy!” 

“Enough, Ron!” Exclaimed Ginny. “You know nothing about George and Y/N’s relationship.” 

George took a sip of pumpkin juice from his goblet, shaking his head. “Maybe it’s true.” He said quietly, turning his attention away from a smiling Y/N and towards the plate of food in front of him. 

“What is?” Asked Fred. 

George merely shrugged. “Maybe she did leave me for Malfoy. I mean, what if she found out that I was playing with her so she and Malfoy conspired against me and they actually fell in love with each other. Something like that.” He suggested. 

Silence enveloped their space as all eyes gave George a dumbfounded look. “That sounds like the muggle love story book Hermione lent me.” Harry muttered, shaking his head before digging in his breakfast. 

Honestly, George wasn’t as calm as he was showing in his exterior. He was just good at controlling his anger. I mean, people really didn’t like him right now so if he made a scene right there, right now, people would hate him even more. But if people hated him, he hated someone more. He hated Draco Malfoy for being mean, for being nosy, and for being close to Icestone. He hated Daphne Greengrass because she was the haughty best friend of the girl he loved and hated the most, Y/N Icestone. He hated her for what happened between them. He hated her for not talking to him, for not letting him explain, and for playing with him. 

George didn’t care if he was being a hypocrite but Y/N Icestone played with him too. He had to get that straight. And so, after the girl’s Arithmancy class, he decided to corner her in that small alcove he pulled her in when they were in 5th year. 

“Didn’t I tell you to not talk to me ever again?” Icestone signed, shaking her head in frustration. Which in turn, earned a smirk from the ginger.

“Like I said, Icestone. If you ever paid any attention to me, you’ll know that I simply don’t follow what people tell me to do.” George asserted. Y/N once again sighed. 

“What do you want, Weasley? I have an essay to finish.” She asked, bored. 

“I wanted to get things straight with you, Icestone.”

“Then hurry up!” The Slytherin demanded, her patience long gone ever since she became face to face with the Gryffindor.  

The ginger was once again, speechless. Where is the Y/N Icestone that I loved? Why did she change so quickly?

He shook his head in disbelief. “You were right, Icestone. You’re not as evil as people describe you to be because you’re worse. Way, way worse.” He remarked with a disappointment present in his tone, earning himself an annoyed grunt,

“You betrayed me, George! All this time, you were only playing with me!” The girl fumed, her index finger pointed at the boy’s chest. 

George too, started to lose his patience. “But I stopped, didn’t I? I stopped! But then you’re here accusing me of playing you when YOU were the one who was playing with me!” 

“Why are you acting as if I’m the one who started this mess? Weren’t you and your twin the one who thought that it was such a great idea to make me fall for you?! To make me give you my heart and throw it away like it's some piece of garbage!” Y/N snarled, her icy eyes starting to melt with tears threatening to fall down. 

When the ginger took notice of her melting orbs, he felt his heart sink down his stomach. He hated Y/N Icestone and he hated how she cries. He hated it even more if he was the reason for it. So he let his guard down and surrendered. 

She’s right. George thought. I have no reason to blame her when it was me who started this mess. At Least he got that straight. 

“Why didn’t you talk to me, Y/N?” George quietly muttered, staring at his over worn shoes.

The girl shook her head, furiously blinking away the tears. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done because whatever we used to be, we’ll never be again.” She trembled, masking her shaking voice with faux confidence. 

“Besides, you were one of the people who believed that I have a stone cold heart. You wanted an ice queen? I’ll show you an ice queen.” 

____________________

Things didn’t get easier for George Weasley. From being the prankster, it seems like he was the victim of all the pranks students of Slytherin were pulling on him. 

In one of this week’s potion’s class, Professor Snape just had to conveniently break down everyone’s partnership. He knew it was the influence of Y/N Icestone. If not her, then Malfoy, but he knew that Icestone will still be involved in all of this. 

Snape demanded all of his students to brew a draught of living death. But he won’t tell you how. All you had to do was follow the instructions in your book. 

It’s not like George wasn’t good at potions. He is better at Fred afterall, seeing as Fred doesn’t even take this class anymore. But in the past potions classes, George never prepared the ingredients. He was more of the one who conveniently just pours all the ingredients in the cauldron, having Y/N prepare everything for him. The thought just made him miss her even more. But life sucks and he has to deal with it. And so, he dealt with a scowling Professor Snape after an unknown student from the house of Slytherin tampered with his cauldron and made it explode. 

In his charms class, a class in which he conveniently shares with Slytherins, they had to learn about non-verbal spells. And guess what? Some haughty bloke performed a non-verbal hex towards him, causing the majority of the class to laugh in his face before professor Flitwick made them stop. He was sent to the Hospital wing. 

Some time during the week, on his way to meet his twin brother, he suddenly tripped and a bucket of ice cold water was spilled into his uniform. He wouldn’t know who the culprit was if he didn’t see Blaise Zabini, Malfoy’s right hand man, snicker and shake his head in the corner of his eye. 

But despite everything, George Weasley let it slip. He never lashed out on them, choosing to keep his frustration bottled up before releasing it in a piece of parchment at night and throwing it into the fireplace inside the common room. Fred even suggested pranking them back, but George thought that he needed a break from mischief, seeing that the last didn’t really go well. 

Meanwhile, Y/N Icestone was back to her previous form. Back to herself when she never opened the stupid envelope the Weasley twins were planning to send to Malfoy. She was reserved, but not as reserved as before. She only showed her true form to her friends but other than them, her features continued to demand respect from everyone that goes past her. 

Honestly, she knew what her housemates were doing. They were messing with George Weasley for messing with her and at first, she wasn’t really fond of the idea until she remembered what the ginger did to her. So she convinced herself otherwise. 

And she observed. She observed how her housemates would either glare at the ginger or send him snide remarks whenever they’d cross paths with him. She observed how her housemate sneaked a foreign ingredient in George’s cauldron that caused it to explode. She observed how George saw who it was but didn’t act on it. She observed the way he was assisted by a kind Hufflepuff to the hospital wing. She observed how regardless of all the bullying he was receiving, he wasn’t fighting back. Which was unlikely of George Weasley. So she decided to make a bold move and ask why. 

“Honestly, what’s the matter with you?” Y/N mumbled with uncertainty, eyes piercing the ginger’s. 

George was shocked and confused. “What do you mean?” He breathed. The effect Y/N Icestone had on him remained. Seeing her up close still made his heart flip, heart ache, and heart break to pieces at the same time. 

The girl shrugged, tilting her head as if taking a better look at George, trying to comprehend his feelings. “Well, I’m mean to you, to your friends, my friends and housemates make fun of you, and you let it slip. You do nothing about it. Honestly, is this your way of letting me see how much of a bad person I am?” 

The Gryffindor offered a small smile, shaking his head. “You look happier.” He acknowledged.

“What?”

“Y/N Icestone, I wish you happiness. So if all this makes you happy, then fine. It’s my fault anyways.” 

____________________

The Slytherin didn’t take it well after that conversation. She was having a conflict with herself. The walls she built were tearing themselves apart as the thought of George Weasley came running around in her mind as if he owned the place. And so, she tried her best to distract herself. 

She attended almost all of Slytherin’s parties, something that she didn’t really bother going to before. She drank whatever Daphne would hand her, living her life like it was the last, getting intoxicated every night and then. Then she studied like her life depended on it. She was smart, but she needed a pastime. And so, she spent most of her time at the library, studying materials that a mere 6th year shouldn’t have knowledge of. She’d do anything to keep George Weasley out of her mind. 

She thought she moved on. But she realized that moving on will take a bit longer after waking up in the hospital wing with the ginger by her side. 

“George?” She called, her voice hoarse. 

The ginger stood, looking down at her with eyes of concern and worry. “Icestone. Glad you’re finally awake.” 

After attempting to sit up, the girl groaned, feeling her body ache as if fire was burning all over. “What are you doing here? What am I doing here? What the bloody hell happened?” She asked, clueless of the recent events.  

The Gryffindor raised both his brows in disbelief. “It seems like you’re overworking yourself, Icestone. Me and Fred saw you walking in the halls on the way to potions class but then suddenly you were on the floor, no response!” 

“Fred too?” Y/N pondered, earning a nod from the boy. “Yeah...Fred too. He went to class since Madame Pomfrey didn’t allow the both of us here. So I stayed.” 

“Why? Don’t you hate me? You could have attended potions class like your twin.” 

George offered a small smile, shaking his head. “Because if I attended Snape’s class, I would have worked on the cauldron alone and lost my house some points.” 

“Oh.” The girl murmured, nodding, 

The boy mirrored her actions. “Yeah.” 

Silence enveloped the atmosphere and it wasn’t comfortable. So, the Slytherin decided to call for Madame Pomfrey before facing the Gryffindor and offering a small smile. “Thank you, George. Really. But I’m fine now. You can leave.” 

The boy nodded. “Alright.” 

After the ginger left, the girl laid back down, closing her eyes. Why can’t I hate him? How can I hate him?

End of Chapter 8

____________________

Taglist: @abrunettefangirlnerd​ @gloryekaterina​ @lilypad-55449​ @memekingofwwiii @leovaldez37 @bellaiscool​ @sukunas-cult-leader​

[liamhaydn-blog]

Joshua & Fury: reading of the resumes.

You can’t read any discussion about Anthony Joshua for long without seeing reference to his resume. The resume is usually brought up as the first line of defence to any criticism slung his way, and is perhaps the only line of attack that is still being used by AJ fans as to why their man still deserves more credit and praise than Tyson Fury. 

The resume line is used by noone more than Eddie Hearn, who mentions it before every fight, after every fight, win or lose. The names by now reel off his tongue, and near everyone from what I have seen is in complete agreement that AJ has put together one hell of a record. 

This has always somewhat baffled me, and I will explore why here. First of all since April 2016, every fight he’s had has been a World title fight. His last 8 fights have been for 3 organisation’s belts. When you are the champion of those 3 organisations, you will have to fight decent fighters, to justify you holding onto so many belts. Also these organisations want you to face their mandatory challenger now and then, the chances are someone ranked #1 will be a pretty good fighter. Does a unified World Heavyweight champion really deserve so much credit for fighting fairly solid opponents?

Comparison is often made to Wilder’s defences for example, and for sure it does seem that Wilder is a bit of a flat track bully, who didn’t seem to particularly mind some easy knockouts over less than stellar opposition. Though it still remains hard to fairly compare his level of opponents to Joshua’s. Joshua gets bigger crowds than anyone in world boxing, he’s for years now sold out big stadiums in a matter of hours, he’s simply one of the biggest stars in boxing with huge PPV numbers. This to say, they can afford to pay opponents big money. The big money that is required for a credible opponent. I don’t think that has always been the case for Wilder, who himself was not getting anything like big money until having been World Champion for a while, let alone his opponent. 

This is not to completely excuse Wilder, the fact an agreement was never reached to fight Dillian Whyte in all the time he was mandatory challenger, its quite bizarre to me why Wilder seemingly did not ever fancy that fight. And I do think that unlike Wilder, AJ has and always will be willing to face anyone, be it Wilder, Fury, I don’t think him a coward or someone who would doubt himself enough to not fancy them fights. 

The reason for the AJ-Wilder fight never materialising whilst both were champion, I don’t believe was down to AJ himself, though I believe its possible his team and promoter wanted to keep him away from Wilder for a little longer, to further build up his experience. But for Wilder’s part, I never got the impression he was particularly falling over himself to get the fight either.

I digress, but the point is that though I believe AJ has been more up for a challenge and a real fight than Wilder has, it’s not quite as simple as just looking at who their opponents have been for defences and not including the context.    

The most common comparison presumably in the whole of boxing is AJ’s resume against Tyson Fury’s. As stated earlier, this is often something used by AJ fans, and Fury’s resume is the one main critique levelled against him by virtually everyone who wishes to put him down. 

Again, it often seems a little without context. A man who has defended or attempted to defend his world title 9 times is always likely to have fought more decent fighters than someone who has never defended before, that seems obvious. Fury is mocked for never having attempted a World title defence, (aside from the fact its not really his fault from a boxing standpoint that he was unable to defend his belt for 2 years due to being side-lined from the ring for medical issues, nor was it his fault he was robbed by judges in Los Angeles in his first fight with Wilder, therefore delaying his ability to make a first defence) and yet also mocked for a supposedly weak resume, when the two things kind of go together as one rather explains the other. Your resume is unlikely to be great without a world title defence.

Looking at Fury’s resume, his best opponent prior to fighting for the World title was Chisora. Now the fact is, this was already not a great time for Heavyweight boxing, swathes of very average Heavyweights were getting the chance to lose to the Klitschko’s, so it shouldn’t be too surprising Fury didn’t have to fight off many stern challenges to become the top contender. One challenge could have been former Cruiserweight and Heavyweight World Champion David Haye, again not really Fury’s fault Haye pulled out of the fight twice. One man he did face though was Chisora, who in their first fight was 14-0 and 27 years old. The 22-year old Fury went into the fight as the underdog. They fought again 3 years later, inbetween these bouts Chisora became one of only 4 men to lose to Vitali Klitschko without being stopped. 

Chisora is regarded as a journeyman for the 11 losses on his record, but the fact is nobody has ever had an easy night with him, barring Fury in their rematch. Chisora arguably won a very close first fight with Whyte, and was having another very close fight with him in the rematch before Whyte found a great knockout in the 11th, Usyk did not shine against him in the same way he did against Bellew and Joshua, and he was very unlucky to not win a decision against former World Champion Joseph Parker. Not bad for a journeyman. But Fury certainly made him look like a journeyman in their second fight, showing exactly how a big man should fight against a little man, he didn’t let Chisora lay a glove on him and beat him up all night until Chisora’s trainer finally took mercy on him and pulled him out after 10 brutally one-sided rounds. 

The next ‘name’ on Tyson’s resume is Wladimir Klitschko, who was on a run of 19 successful wins in World title fights, and hadn’t lost for 11 years. On the Champions adopted home patch of Germany, Fury won a unanimous decision infront of 50,000 Klitschko supporters, to give the Ukrainian his only defeat by decision in 69 fights. Not a bad win I suppose. 

Often used to mock Fury’s resume is the name ‘Sefer Seferi’ and yes the fight was a joke and a bit of a waste of time, but it was Fury’s first fight for 2 and a half years, yes he could have fought someone a bit better ofcourse, but I don’t think it would have been wise to fight anyone fans would consider a decent fighter on his very first step on the comeback trail. 2 months later was Pianeta, again I don’t think it’s that surprising that when you’re fighting for the second time in 3 months after a long absence, and your plan is to fight for the World title less than 4 months later, that the level of opponent you’re facing is not that high, that seems to be fairly logical. I think facing Deontay Wilder for the WBC title just 6 months into the comeback made up for it in fairness. 

Going into their first fight, Wilder had faced 40 men and knocked them all out. It’s fashionable now after the beating Fury gave him in the rematch to dismiss Wilder as a bum, a never-was. But it’s simply not true. He’s 6 foot 7, incredibly heavy-handed with one of the most concussive punches in Heavyweight history. Fury fought him in his prime after the best win of Wilder’s career, an 8 round stoppage of Luis Ortiz, who at the time was for sure a worthy contender. Fury himself was 6 months back after a 2 and a half year absence, mostly spent trying to damage his body to the same extent his mind was damaged. After outboxing him for 9 rounds, Fury picked himself off the canvas to box his head off some more, until in the 12th round Wilder landed one of the hardest and best 2-punch combos he’s ever thrown. One of the only true knockout punches ever landed to somehow not result in a knockout. Fury won the fight but as we know was robbed and given a draw.

Between this fight and the rematch, Fury is again mocked for the two names he fought inbetween. Tom Schwarz and Otto Wallin. First of all it was kinda strange why these 2 fights were even necessary and they didn’t just do an immediate rematch, or even 1 fight inbetween, 2 seemed excessive. But financially it worked out great for both men, Wilder who was able to cash in for 2 more fights as Champion, and for Fury he could get into a run of real activity which helped him immensely for the rematch with Wilder. Schwarz was rolled over as expected, but Wallin inflicted 2 huge cuts on Tyson which left him fighting nearly the whole fight with only 1 eye, still winning nearly every round. Which is surely quite impressive, given Wallin is now deemed by Hearn a highly credible opponent for Whyte, one of the division’s top fighters. 

In the Wilder rematch, Fury produced what was I think the best performance by a Heavyweight this century. He did what noone thought he could do, which was bully the bully, beating him with power not just cunning. As I said, now Fury has done it so easily, people will talk about how Wilder was rubbish all along, never beat anyone etc. but if anyone thinks AJ or Whyte or anyone else would just as easily stand up to Wilder’s power, speed and explosiveness, I think they are very mistaken. Whether Wilder will be the same fighter with his air of invincibility shattered after defeat remains to be seen, but it would be great to see him in the ring against Britain’s other top fighters. My prediction is, it would see Fury’s win and performance elevated even further. 

Fury now faces Wilder for a third time, and whilst I like most consider it a shame Fury wasn’t able to move onto new challenges, if he wins, it’s another excellent win. I don’t consider it any easier than a fight against AJ would be. It’s true that AJ is a better boxer than Wilder, but still vastly inferior to Tyson, so I don’t see how he provides much greater threat from a boxing standpoint, he’s not going to outbox Fury in a million years. So the only threat to Tyson posed is power, Wilder has a higher KO % than AJ despite fighting nearly 20 more times, lets his hands go more, hits harder, is more dangerous with a single shot than AJ, so therefore I feel the most dangerous fighter to Fury, as he himself has said many times, remains *to this day* Deontay Wilder. 

Now to really the point of the article, Joshua’s resume. After amassing 14 knockouts in 14 fights, all coming in the 3rd round or sooner, the Olympic Gold Medallist had become Britain’s most talked about and hyped prospect ever. His 15th opponent was Dillian Whyte, a 16-0 fighter with 13KO’s. Whyte has since gone on to garner a deserved reputation as one of the division’s toughest and respectable fighters, but that’s now. Going into when AJ actually fought him, he had faced absolutely nobody. He had 6 amateur bouts including a win over AJ, moved to kickboxing, came back to boxing and had 9 pro fights before being banned for drugs. Whyte was out the ring for 2 years, had 5 fights back then fought Joshua. 

So at the time of the fight there is no doubt that whilst AJ was seen as a future World Champion, Whyte was not seen as anything of the sort, just an ‘opponent’ there for AJ to get another fast and emphatic knockout. The emphatic knockout came but not before experiencing adversity for the first time, as in fight number 15 of his career AJ faced someone who could take his leather and land some of his own, before succumbing in the 7th. Despite the rawness of Whyte, he still had enough heart and talent to provide Anthony with his first career test. 

Next fight, AJ fought for the World title, facing what most regard as a terrible World Champion, Charles Martin. He may have walked this earth like a God, but he fought in the ring like a Big Bum Dosser, against AJ anyway, who took him apart in 2 rounds. Martin appeared for all the world like a man woefully out of his depth, dutifully accepting his beating for a good payday. A win over Gerald Washington has since seen an attempt at the rehabilitation of Martin’s image from Eddie Hearn no less, who now lists the conquest of this man as proof of AJ’s greatness, who next Gary Cornish? 

AJ made his first World title defence of his IBF crown against Dominic Breazeale, who was at the time ranked #13 with the organisation. Joshua won in the 7th round. His second defence was against Eric Molina, who AJ dispached in 3 rounds. Another 2 men recently listed by Hearn to demonstrate AJ’s strong resume. In the same interview, he criticised Wilder for having beat noone..except he’s also knocked out both Breazeale (in 43 seconds) & Molina. A decision win over Breazeale was also enough to show Hearn that Wallin was a worthy PPV  opponent for Whyte, so are they good wins or not? I’m not sure, I guess it depends on who we’re talking about, AJ or Wilder. 

Next up saw AJ transition into a UK stadium fighter when he met Wladimir Klitschko at Wembley Stadium to attempt to add more belts to his collection that had recently been vacated by Fury. Having been soundly beaten by The Gypsy King, Klitschko had gone from 39 to 41. The feeling for a lot in the UK at the time was, it’s a good time to beat a good name to earn some credibility against an old, past it champion. That looked to be the case when AJ dropped Wlad in the 5th but there was still some life in the old dog yet when the very next round AJ hit the canvas for the first time in his career. Wlad took control of the fight with AJ struggling for a second wind having used up a lot of energy, with stamina issues affecting the 250-pounder. There was a few rounds where AJ was too tired, not throwing, concentrating everything on trying to recuperate, that you’d think Klitschko could have stepped it up and gone for the finish.  Whether age stopped Klitschko from pushing on the gas or he felt confident he could see out a decision, he didn’t do it and AJ found the best punch and single moment of his career in the 11th with a huge uppercut which signalled the end of Wlad’s chances. It was a great fight which AJ did very well to win, but it had been by the skin of his teeth. 

After Pulev pulled out of their proposed fight, Carlos Takam stepped in as a late replacement. Given the lack of time, this wasn’t a terrible replacement, he is tough and comes to fight, ensuring the fans will atleast get to see a few rounds. But he has lost to every name fighter he’s faced, including Journeyman Chisora. So Chisora isn’t a good name on Fury’s record, because he loses to every good fighter he faces, but Takam is a solid name on AJ’s record, despite the fact he was knocked out by Chisora. It’s all very confusing. 

To hold 4 belts, AJ then faced Joseph Parker, the holder of the WBO title, winning the vacant belt with a home decision against some chubby kid, Andy Ruiz. At the time, Parker had a very good reputation, but the fight was a stinker, with AJ disappointing his legion of fans as he was taken the distance for the first time. Parker has since lost to Whyte and in my opinion deserved a draw at best with Chisora having been dropped in the first round, and now will have to fight a rematch for a more emphatic win. Since the AJ fight, he’s looked a fairly average heavyweight, seemingly quite lucky to have ever held the World title, having not done anything since to make anyone believe he could ever hold it again. 

The next defence came against the small and light for a heavyweight 39-year old Alex Povetkin. Looking at him, not much of a threat would perhaps be expected to a man of AJ’s size and stature but for 6 rounds he gave Joshua a very competitive fight until the fight was ended by the Champion’s power in the 7th. Povetkin had gone the distance with Wladimir Klitschko despite being dropped four times, and probably deserved a second shot at the world title sooner than 5 years after that. The 39-year old was still a credible challenger but with his best years behind him. 

Then on June 1 2019, came the infamous AJ US debut. After a fight with Big Baby Miller collapsed due to his drug use, in stepped Andy Ruiz, who had a similarly large belly but 4 inches less in height than Miller. It was obvious what would happen next, AJ would announce himself to US audiences with a quick knockout. Ruiz hit the canvas for the first time in his career in round 3. AJ, one of the best finishers in the sport, jumped on him. What happens next usually, is roared on by tens of thousands of Brits, AJ punches and punches until his opponent goes down and stays there. This time infront of an audience of stunned Americans, Ruiz comes off the floor to land a shot to AJ’s temple which changes the course of the fight and both men’s destinies. Ruiz puts AJ down and the champion never recovers, unable to regain authority or control in the fight, he is victim to Ruiz’s barrages and decides not to fight on in the 7th, recognising after being dropped yet again, that it’s not going to be his night. 

After losing the Brawl In Montreal, Sugar Ray Leonard knew he had to get his conqueror Roberto Duran back in the ring as quickly as possible, whilst he was out partying, piling on the pounds and not training. AJ applied the same thinking, and like Leonard in the ‘No Mas’ fight took on a completely new approach for the rematch. Andy Ruiz has very fast hands, its not wise to trade with him up close. He does not however, have fast feet or particularly long arms. AJ maintained his discipline in the rematch to comfortably outbox Ruiz for 12 rounds, boxing from distance, never tempted to go for the knockout. Ruiz weighed in at an enormous 284 pounds, 16 pounds heavier than before. 

Performance and result wise, the Ruiz rematch in Saudi Arabia is perhaps the most impressive of AJ’s career to date. The 32-year old Ruiz still has to prove however, if he is truly a top class fighter, or whether he just produced the performance of a lifetime and got AJ on the right night. If AJ had beaten Ruiz first time round it would not have been seen as a particularly significant triumph, but due to the credibility he only gained as a result of beating AJ, this conversely amplified the achievement of Joshua gaining revenge in the rematch. 

Joshua’s first defence of his second reign came against Kubrat Pulev after just over a year out the ring. Like Povetkin, Pulev was approaching 40, had fought for the world title whilst a younger man and lost to Wlad Klitschko (Pulev being stopped in 5), he was also quite a short and light man in comparison to the giant figure of Joshua. With only 14KO wins in 29 fights, Pulev looked the ideal opponent for AJ. He was durable and well conditioned, and came to win but he stood right infront of AJ, with no head movement, so AJ moved his head for him with brutal uppercuts. If you stand infront of Joshua and don’t have much of a punch or speed to threaten him with, he looks brilliant and he did at times on this night, despite even against this opponent being reluctant to fully commit to power combo’s, the memory of Ruiz at MSG clearly not yet banished, but the win came in the 9th round, AJ’s first stoppage win for over 2 years. 

AJ’s second reign as champion was alot shorter than his first, defeat coming in his second defence against former Cruiserweight king Oleksandr Usyk. Usyk had come under vast criticism it shouldn’t be forgotten for his first 2 performances at Heavyweight. Many people, though I personally don’t agree, thought that his fight with Chisora was very close, he certainly wasn’t sending fear into the hearts of the division. But Usyk has only failed to win 15 fights out of over 360 amateur and pro for a reason, and he thoroughly outclassed Joshua. The fight would have been hard enough, and not a guaranteed win even if Joshua hadn’t got his tactics so completely wrong, but he atleast would have been in with a chance. Usyk, thought to be too small for a heavyweight, didn’t look small in with one of the divisions giants, because he didn’t fight like a small man, he didn’t allow Joshua to feel physically superior, and showed no fear or respect for his power. 

I won’t be suprised atall if Joshua rights his wrongs in the second fight, by doing what he obviously should have done in the first fight. Being rough and nasty, throwing as the saying goes, with bad intentions. But why it takes a 2-time World Champion with his experience a second fight to realise this I have no idea. Having a “chess match” fight with Usyk is maybe something you do in sparring to learn some useful things, you don’t do it infront of 70 thousand with your belts actually on the line..It was one of the most incredibly naive things I have seen from an experienced champion. It struck of a man in a bit of an identity crisis, who can’t decide what type of fighter he is inside the ring, nor what his boxing persona is outside it, in the lead-up to fights.

As another mistake AJ seemed to repeat from the first Ruiz fight was he seemed all pally with Usyk and too relaxed in the build-up. It could just be a coincedence but he was nice and pissed off with Pulev before getting in the ring with him, and he produced the right performance. I know Usyk is a difficult guy to dislike, but he’s gonna have to try. 

Strangely, Hearn also listed Usyk on AJ’s resume. I don’t see much good of having good names on your resume if you lose to them, otherwise we may aswell declare Kevin Johnson a great, as he’s fought everyone (and lost to everyone, but I guess that doesn’t matter). If AJ wins the rematch, he deserves credit for it, as it would for me be the best win of his career, given the age of Klitschko and Joshua’s personal circumstances of 2 defeats in his last 4. But I don’t really get this thing of “give AJ credit for taking the fight”. Its the mandatory challenger for one of his belts, he has to fight him, or else give up that belt. Why would you become world champion just to give a belt up because you have to face someone good? talk about giving credit for the bare minimum.

This questioning of AJ’s resume, is not to criticise him personally. I have no doubt before he retires he would if up to him fight Wilder, Fury, whoever else who is up there at the time, and if he does so he will lose plenty more times, because his chin and tactics are not of the standard of some of the other guys, but he will lose and come back and keep trying, and I respect that. But in conclusion I think up to this point, with no Fury or Wilder under his W column, he is getting a lot of credit for wins against guys who when listed as a collective are fairly solid names, but when taken individually, are not so great. Whilst Fury’s list has less solid names, there are names who can be taken individually and are great standalone wins. 

The way I would describe it is would you rather take a couple of 10′s to bed, but not many 6,7 or 8′s? or would you rather take a few 6,7 or 8′s but never a 10. I know which I would prefer. 

[karla-the-elemental-dreamer]

KH-OC Week - Catch Up: Day 5 - (5 AUG 2021)

@khoc-week

The prompt I am doing for this one is 'Memory'. I thought this was just going to be a little diary entry simulation, but I ended up getting carried away and made a little fictional piece out of it. This does not necessarily follow my IRL existence and my dream avenues, this piece is more a completely imaginative fiction (incorporates only some aspects of stories from dreams); and what it would be like if I had a more concrete position, like living there for significant periods of time.

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Diary Entry Written: 8 AUG 2021 (8:08 PM)

Words: 1,652

As I sit here in isolation, thinking about how lonely it is here in the house, I remember all the times I spent with Riku and his friends, who are in turn my friends, and this makes me happy. All of a sudden I don’t feel so alone anymore, and as the memories replay, it’s like the people in them are actually with me; we are experiencing these moments all over again.

At the start, it was hard as I tried to introduce myself to a new world of people and vice-versa. I would tell Riku about myself, and it seemed like he was listening, but a few hours went by, and it’s like he forgot what I had told him… Sort of like he didn’t care, but then I knew Riku wasn’t naturally like this. At the time, I was new, and with Riku having redeemed himself from the darkness, I guess his insecurities were… Protecting him in a way; he did not want to be deceived again. It’s always hard at the start when I know exactly the person I want to show to others, but that they may not perceive me the way I perceive me. I knew exactly how Riku felt, which why I thought to myself, “Just be kind”, because in truth, it’s sometimes actions that speak louder than words.

So I took it upon myself to look out for Riku’s friends when he himself couldn’t be there, or if he was there but he was caught up in another matter. I recall the first thing I did for one of those ‘guardians of light’, so they are called. Xehanort had gotten the best of Sora, shattering him into a million pieces (emotionally), as he was made to watch Xemnas almost incapacitate Kairi. I yelled to Kairi, “Why aren’t you using your keyblade? You have one!”. Of course at the time, Kairi didn’t know who I was, and so she was hesitant to follow my advice. But just as Xemnas was about to make her take her last breath, it seems like Kairi knew what I was on about, and fear was turned into common sense. I continued to yell from the bottom of the plateau; “you get into these situations because people think you can’t fight for yourself!”.

As Riku was busy trying to keep himself from being dominated by Ansem, he looked over at Kairi’s direction with a sort of slant in his face. He himself didn’t know that I was standing below, he could only be confused by the voice he was hearing, but then I think that in Riku’s heart, he agreed that Kairi needed to become stronger and stand up for herself more… Because others won’t always be around. As Kairi swiped the keyblade, Xemnas was launched back, with a shocked look on his face like he didn’t even think the girl could do it. Both Sora and Riku looked at each other, and then to Kairi, with a look of amazement as they saw that she pried herself from Xemnas.

I skip to after that battle, where I heard Kairi say to them, “I probably wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for that girl”. Sora had answered, “No Kairi, it was all you. See, you do have in you, and for that, I’m proud of you”. Kairi stopped him, “But that voice, it helped me a lot”. Riku was curious and so he peered through a wall of the graveyard ruins, and he could see me walking away as I felt I had done my job. A few of these moments, and down the track, Riku began to trust me and see that I meant no harm. Rather than pushing me away and only what I thought was him pretending to care, he took more of an interested and asked me what I wanted when he noticed that I wanted or needed something.

Six months later, and Riku is the father figure I never would have dreamed of back then. And back then I thought I could never show that I was weak, or he would become uncomfortable with such thoughts and push me away. But then he later would accept me for who I am, and he said that is was okay for me to be weak. As my dream guide, he told me that it’s impossible for a person to be strong all the time, and when the cracks show, that it’s no problem to rely on others to build us up. Though Riku did admit that he himself wasn’t perfect, and that some of the messages he shared with me were inspired by Sora’s way of thinking. Riku would tell me stories of the time he and Sora spent together, and he said that he loved Sora very much… But then Riku also admitted that he had a place for me as well, as he did for all his friends.

Down the track, Riku encouraged me to meet his other friends. In Twilight Town, he introduced me to Roxas, Lea and Xion. At first, Roxas didn’t seem too convinced that I was trustworthy, but after a few rods from Riku, Roxas was able to see. I remember telling Roxas that I was aware of all his trauma from the events of KH-Days and KH2, and I said to Roxas that if there was a way for me to bring him back in time so that he never had to go through such a thing, I would. In-fact that’s when I said to any guardian of light who had been through some sort of deep darkness. That if I had the power to change things, I would.

And this is in-fact how I became closer to Terra. Because of all that Terra had been through with Xehanort, he initially thought I was trying to lead him on. However, I understood exactly why Terra wasn’t convinced, and from Riku encouraging me and standing in the same room as I spoke, I told Terra that I understood exactly why. I stated that I witnessed everything that Xehanort did thanks to the accounts of KH-BBS, and I said that I would never wish that on anybody. I said to Terra that I wanted to see him enjoy his life, and that I would be a good friend who would do anything to help him get back the joy that he missed out on for 11 years.

So when I could go on a mission with Riku, I would. But the mission would be so dangerous that Riku wouldn’t let me go no matter how strong I claimed to be, Terra was always the first person he took me to, and in turn Terra would always be the first one to offer to look after me on Riku’s behalf. And then even in a streak of no missions, I lived with Riku on the islands, but I would occasionally go for sleepovers at the Land of Departure.

Aqua and Ventus would sometimes spend time with us, but everybody understood that Terra was my special connection to that place. So as Aqua would have bonding time Ventus, Terra would have it with me. I remember once, I brought a couple of canvas over as I wanted to see if Terra could paint. He didn’t have that steady-a-hand, and unfortunately he ended up making a bit of a mess, but we could make out that the painting was of him, Aqua and Ventus.

I ended up painting a picture of me, with the Land of Departure in the background, holding my Spirit of Brigid keyblade. Why did I decide to draw this keyblade? Firstly, I thought it fit the royal aesthetic of the place. But secondly, I had this memory while painting. The first time I picked up that keyblade, I didn’t realised it was serving as a music box as I heard the school song playing from within the metal! I remember I had to actually slap the keyblade, and that’s when the music stopped and I could use it as a keyblade and not a darn radio. In-fact these days, when the Spirit of Brigid plays the school song, Riku laughs, and he sometimes even slaps the keyblade for me.

So after I spent the night and/or day with Terra, Riku would come to collect me, and Terra would tell him what a great time we had, and if Terra actually had fun. And then Riku would take me home, back to the islands. That same evening, we would walk along the beach, and Riku would ask me for my perspective on the stay. And sometimes, depending on what I told Riku, he would turn my experience into lessons and give me further advice or insights into life.

I would ask how Riku’s missions went, but sometimes he wouldn’t say much. I knew he still kept some things to himself, but at the same time, I understood. It’s not because he couldn’t trust me. Instead, it was more because he likely wouldn’t wish his experiences on me, or something really bad happened to him that he just had to keep it inside. However, for as long as I was under Riku’s roof, even on our bad days, we would always end the night and start the new day together. We slept in his bed, and he’d have his arm over me, ready to comfort me if I had any nightmares.

So yes I may be trapped in my own house, outside the KH world at the moment. But when I think about the day that Riku took me in; Lea and Roxas taking me out for ice-cream whenever I visited Twilight town; Terra babysitting me, and having the delicious dinners that Aqua made, it’s like there with me at this very moment, and I know I’ll be back to see them soon.

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Hope you enjoyed reading that piece! Now to race to get Day 6 and 7 out in a reasonable time-frame so it isn't too late outside the week. Day will contain a special drawing that I trying to finish. Day 7 may be another written piece.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Ep 36 S4: Seto Joins Dragon Wife in Hell

So I dunno about you guys, but 2020 aged me like a lot in just these 8 months, so I figured it was time to embrace the feeling of being on death’s door and I decided to learn Mahjong. So I could truly embrace the ancients and vibe in their natural habitat.

Anyway, once I learned some Mahjong lore, some parts of Yugioh just open up. Namely--Seto’s dragons. Like a whole lot of stuff about early Seto Kaiba that confused me at the time just makes so much more sense now.

But unfortunately, he dies this episode, and he never pulled out his Blue Eyes White Dragons, and it’s just like...

...but my Mahjong deep cuts...

Like every episode I’m just rubbing my palms together in anticipation that someone will die, but like...I never get to talk about how in Mahjong, there’s only 4 white dragon tiles, but if you have 3, you can steal the fourth white dragon from another player’s discards, and that when you that, other stuff happens...I don’t get to talk about that because Seto’s hella dead.

So lets just get to the death. Dartz decides to make all of our soldier frenemies attack Pharaoh--because that’s all he needs to raise the Leviathan. Like Dartz doesn’t even really need to finish this game. He just needs Yami.

Seto picks up that these friend (and Pegasus) soldiers that Yami refuses to kill are probably going to end the world very quickly so he decides to do something about it. If this were a blog where I talked about cards instead of Mahjong, then I’d dive into the intricacies of what that even was.

But, we’re not, so lets just talk about Pegasus.

(read more under the cut)

This guy harnesses some psychic energy he’s got leftover from S1 and communicates directly to Pharaoh’s mind.

So, hey, what was that about Pegasus not having powers anymore? Like? He’s still doing this? He’s still psychic and he very clearly can still make blank cards so like...I guess you can take out the eyeball and make him nicer, but you can’t take out some of the effed up magic side-effects. (like there was a comment I didn’t respond to (which, sorry about that, been a little nuts over here in California), but apparently there was a movie in between seasons where Pegasus saved their lives--so he’s legit good now...there was a DLC where character arcs happened.)

Which kind makes you wonder about Marik, but we’ll probably never see him again so o well, save it for the fanfiction.

PS Yami is totally fixating on that eye we can’t see, right? Like...it never outright tells us, but does this spiritual Orichalcos manifestation of Pegasus still have the golden eye? A human eye? Or no eye at all? Just skin?

Not like it matters because Seto does some sort of card shenanigans that undo the whole friends that are soldiers thing like it never happened.

MMMMM I don’t like these weird legs on Yugi. Don’t like the thighs it gave to Joey. No! I’m seeing like this skin-tight silhouette of half an ass right now and I really don’t like it.

Along with other card things I won’t go into that consumed most of this episode, Seto finally got hit by a...well, I mean you can clearly see it in the next cap.

So, in Mahjong, there are 3 types of dragons: a white dragon, a red dragon, and a green dragon. I used to think it was really lazy that we’re just calling monsters straight up “white dragon” or “red dragon” in this show, but now it makes more sense because this whole time it was probably baby’s first Mahjong reference but I’m too Western to know that.

Anyway, the white dragon is funny looking because it’s a white tile--just a completely blank white tile. I thought it was a wild card at first but nah--it’s a white dragon in a snowfield--which is a very funny Dad joke from 200 years ago we’re still doing today. But, often, instead of a Dad joke, they’ll just make the white dragon tile a drawing of a blank card, like this:

Kind of funny that the guy who’s shtick is white dragons, ended up with his soul in a blank card. Was that a mahjong reference? Probably not, but I noticed it.

And mahjong aside, the show paid it’s respects to Seto dying and so he took his sweet time passing on. It’s still not that much respect. We aren’t gonna get that amazing Joey death sequence from S3 that took like half an episode of scene-shredding for our mains to recover from, but like...Seto was very determined to keep going, despite not having a soul.

He even finished his turn of cards, as if to just spite Joey Wheeler for that one time Joey hella died before killing Marik.

Shippers rejoice, it’s a Yami and Seto Kaiba death sequence. If you squint really hard, it might even be an embrace. I mean they both have very sharp duel disks on, and if Yugi’s closes for whatever reason, it’ll snap Seto’s head clear off, but what other “hugs” do we really get on this show?

And as for Mokuba, he was quite tragic this episode. I mean it’s Yugioh, so it’s not like you’re gonna cry or anything, but Mokuba just doesn’t really have anything else going for him without his brother so it is legit like...man Mokuba gets a lot of crap thrown his way and even when he’s happy, he still has to live with Seto so just...Mokuba...

Again we get this bubble effect of other people trying to enter the Orichalcos which happens just a Hell of a lot this season. Like Dartz probably has never had a single person WANT to go in the green zone in 10,000 years and then these bizarre children happened and they just want to bounce off that thing like a jello pudding.

I think it took over 5 minutes for Seto to die, and he was very, very, VERY angry the entire time. Just fueled by literally nothing but rage. Could probably go a couple more episodes if he had taken a nap in the KaibaCopter, but alas, even Seto Kaiba eventually runs out of fumes.

Anyway, another Mahjong fun fact. The dragon tiles are considered an “honor tile” and how many times have we heard Seto--who is such a scumball--go off about his honor? It can be hard to use honors tiles because their rate of success is lower, so when Seto’s like “I have to live up to my dragon’s honor or I can’t keep these in my deck” could he be like...making a Mahjong pun as well as a literal reference to whatever he defines as honor?

...Again, just a Mahjong reference I noticed, but probably not what they intended at all. Which is Good Enough for this blog.

After he tragically passed on, and Yami delicately put his body on the ground, -- Dartz decided to make this moment very funny for me, instead.

Bless.

Not as good as Yami the both times his body was chucked casually across the screen this season--but a very good toss, nonetheless.

I have made so MANY clips of this season!

Tristan and Tea kinda just stood there this entire episode while this was all going down and like...I know they can’t really do anything else at this point but like...can someone give Mokuba a hug???

I can’t believe Valon was the only guy in this entire show about friendship who knew how to hug people. He was in prison since he was 9, and then was raised by freakin Dartz, why is he the only hugger?

PS, apparently Seto’s yummy soul was enough to make the Leviathan open a single eye-ball in curiosity.

Mokuba out there flinging so many insults that he got everyone else banned from watching devil cards. It’s like sports competitions in Middle school with that one kid who won’t stop cussing. That one kid who is the reason everyone else has to sit through a boring ass assembly about sportsmanship? That’s Mokuba.

Now that everyone is ‘passed out’, we can get to the juicy stuff only the olds talk about--which sounds a lot like I’m about to do another segway into talking about Mahjong again, but I’m actually all out of the Mahjong juice. Again, I’m ass at Mahjong.

(and like...the peanut gallery died in the original version, right? I know to never trust a “they’re just sleeping” line in Yugioh.)

Dartz telling me he dragged that ass length blue hair across Egypt?

Man.

I would say that it must’ve really thrown people, but then again, their Pharaoh looked like...that.

So Dartz ended up wandering the earth for 5000 years, cursed to live immortally, unable to revive the great Leviathan, wallowing in his failure. Sentenced to suffer the entire existence of humanity that he never wanted to see survive anyway, unable to die himself.

That’s an interesting plotline that I wish I saw more of. I really like the idea of a supervillian who is already past his prime, who’s already burnt out, who’s so far removed from what happened that he’s fully accepted his demise and is just wandering around out of habit. But, most importantly--that changes my math. That’s like...5000 years he wasn’t slurping no souls because he was too damn depressed. So I’ll append the Deathcount. One second.

OK so we can just subtract 7.3 million from what we had, leaving us with: 7,805,844,047. Barely even made a dent but...eh...when you got the current population of the Earth in there it’s really hard to make a dent in that thing.

PS I still have that google doc where I keep track of the deaths, we have 55 lines of entries, haha.

Yugioh is interesting because you do have some racial stuff going on here where Yami is SO OLD that he doesn’t remember not only his own name--he doesn’t remember what he looks like. He’s even seen it a few times in hallucinations but like...Yami legit doesn’t know what it is to be an ancient Egyptian anymore. It’s been a hot minute, and he still sees himself as a pale skinned Yugi clone when he spiritually manifests in the show. Because the modern day, set in Japan, through Yugi’s eyes--that’s all he knows about life.

Dartz was so impressed by Pharaoh’s magic powers that he knew--he just KNEW that this Pharaoh with the worst hair would be the yummy soul for the Leviathan tummy. But unfortunately...

This is a show that has had so MANY overlapping apocalypses that I did have to sit back and kind of count off on my fingers which crazy person this would be about.

Honestly? Either Seto or Bakura...guessing Bakura because we haven’t finished his storyline yet and I know that he’s the big bad of S5. But man...Dartz was just like “oh...no thanks to that guy. I’ll just take a nap for 5000 years, BIG no thanks.” and it does make you wonder...

...oh...so that’s why you didn’t bother Bakura in this timeline.

It also helps make Bakura even more of a threat. Again, Bakura is great because he’s just constantly leaving nuggets of what a threat he is and then just...disappears for seasons on end. The Bakura we’ve made in our head is probably way more awful than what he may end up being.

But for now, it’s fun to just fill in the gaps instead.

anyway that was it for this episode, I’m off to pretend it’s Thanksgiving week and will look forward to drowning my anxiety in a 16 lb turkey shared between four people.

Anyway, I brought up the cat that falls asleep on metal rods so I have to do this:

And for those that are new, this is a link to read these in chrono order: https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Getting away with it (9/?)

Summary: August Walker was dead. At least that’s what people believed for almost 2 years. When the CIA found reason to believe that he was alive they made it their top priority to find him. Including sending one of their best female agents to recruit his twin brother. Walter Marshall.  

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (Walker) + Walter Marshall x Reader (Walker)

Warnings: angst, so much angst. and smut

Wordcount: 2.548

A/N: This is the chapter i’ve been dreading on writing but at the same time it’s the one I’m proudest of.

Masterlist

Part 1 >> Part 2 >> Part 3 >> Part 4 >> Part 5 >> Part 6 >> Part 7 >> Part 8

The first couple of days it was weird coming home to an empty house. Without Marshall sitting on her couch, her patio, the kitchen counter, a file in front of him, making notes. A part of her was scared about the way he was looking at her when he though she wasn’t watching. The bigger part of her was scared of herself for slowly but steadily leaving him to see more of her. 

When she met August it had take months for them to warm up to each other. Yes. There was something between them from the very first time they met but she knew how dangerous he was. A part of her always knew how dangerous he was. She never doubted that he loved her. In his own way. And maybe, because she was falling hard for him, she could have lived with his way of loving her.

But with Walter… What they had, if they had something, was easy. She always felt like she had to work for affection from August. Even more after Evie was born and he seemed to spend all his time with her when he was home. More than once she had found him asleep with Baby Evie on his chest in their bedroom when she got to bed at night. A picture burned into her mind, she couldn’t erase. The same man tried to kill millions of people only a couple months after. Shaking her head she called for Evie. It was Friday and Walker was due for a short briefing at HQ after she brought Evie to kindergarten. Her mother would pick her up after so Walker could work on her other cases.

The same time, outside hidden behind a large tree in the garden

August couldn’t believe how big Evie had gotten in the time he was away. His little girl smiled as she ran towards Walker in her blue dress. Her curly hair bouncing with every step she took. Walker picked her up and twirled them around, kissing her on top of her head before she set her down. A part of him wanted to just walk in and hug her. But after he took a closer look the night before in the house, the security system didn’t do anything to keep him out, he was pretty sure that Evie would have no idea who he was. 

No pictures, no reminder of him remained in this new house Walker was now living in. He had spend hours in the dark of the house walking around, watching first Evie sleep and then Walker. How her silky skin was like an invitation for him to touch. He was hard only thinking about how close he was to her. But there was a part of him that was furious she just erased him from her life. His daughter's life, like he never existed .He knew she would not understand his way of thinking. Walker always had been one of this positive minds who only saw the good in the world, even with the job she did. A part of him was jealous of this part of her. He tried hard in the beginning to think like her. But when she saw the positive side of things, he always find a negative side. August saw them leave, the door closing behind them as Walker probably brought Evie to Kindergarten. He saw in her calendar in her phone that she had a light briefing at HQ today. That would give him enough time to search for the files in her office he was looking for. Years ago they had taken in a scientist who had a similar worldview to August’s. He had wanted to release Anthrax in New York city. Walker and August had caught him just before he succeeded, taking him into custody. August didn’t know where he was being held at the moment, but he knew Walker had the files. And he would need him for what he was planning because he had no fucking clue about how to handle Anthrax without killing himself. And maybe… Maybe he would have a talk with his wife when she got back.

The same day, later

The briefing had lasted only an hour, giving Walker enough time to go buy some groceries. She had promised to bake cookies with Evie this weekend. Deactivating the security system when she walked in she took the bags with the groceries and set them down on the kitchen island. Going back to the hallway she pulled of her shoes, pulling her hair into a bun on her way back into the kitchen. Something made her stop in her tracks. A smell. She wasn’t sure if her mind was playing tricks with her, but she slowly walked back into the kitchen, opening the cupboard on the top to get her gun. It was gone. Closing her eyes she breathed in deep, trying to calm her nerves.

“I like what you did with your hair.” She heard his voice. Too close. A million thoughts ran through her head before she slowly turned around. He was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. He was clean shaven, his hair a bit longer. There were faint scars on his cheek. She could see that he was on edge, his jaw tense as his stormy eyes seemed to fixate her on the spot. He would have pinned her down before she could run to the basement. He was much stronger than her, but maybe if she took one of the knives from the kitchen…

They just looked at each other. Walker breathed calmly as she looked at her dead husband. 

“What are you doing here August?” She finally asked.

“Visiting my family. Though I got the impression my daughter wouldn’t know who I am if she saw me.” He said calmly. 

“Who is that guy she keeps drawing? Are you cheating on me Wifey?” He asked coldly. 

“Last time I checked I was a widow.” Walker said. She couldn’t show any fear. He knew her better than anyone else. Yet.

August chuckled at that.

“Is he living with you? I saw the guestroom in the basement is used…” He began to walk towards her. 

“Maybe I have a toyboy living with me who fucks me three times a day.” She smirked at him. He laughed an evil laugh.

“You haven’t been fucked since I left for London.” 

“What are you doing here August?” She repeated, not leaving the space she was standing at. If he would try something to kill her she would just take the pan that was standing on the counter behind her to crush his skull.

“Would you believe me if I say that I wanted to see you?” He asked. Slowly her head tilted up as he got closer before he stopped right in front of her. He wasn’t touching her in any way. His familiar cologne making it’s way into her nose. That was what she smelled when she got into the house earlier. 

“No.” She said as she glared up at him. A smile sneaked to his face. A smile she had seen a million times that went right to her core.

“Good. Because I’m here to fuck you.” He whispered before he kissed her hard. Her first instinct was to shove against him, bite hardly into his lip drawing blood. But when his arms closed around her and he pushed his tongue in between of her lips, her hatred weakened. 

“Say you missed me…” He whispered against her lips, as his hand made contact with the naked skin on her back as it sneaked under her shirt. She swallowed, her resistance weakening.

“I’ve been planing how to kill you ever since I found out your alive…” She coldly said looking up at him.

“Something changed…” He said as he looked down at her, opening her bra.

“You fucking changed me you Asshole.” She shoved against his chest. His eyes got darker.

“You broke my fucking heart. I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you and all you did was lie.” She shoved against him again, now with more strength. She was getting furious.

“What is going on in that twisted head of yours? You think you can come back and just fuck me?” She felt the tears in her eyes. Shoving at him again he took a step back, but still not letting go of his grip around her, his fingers running featherlight touches on her back that made it hard to think.

“I knew you wouldn’t understand…” He said calmly.

“I wish you died on that mountain.” She growled. He looked at her like she just had slapped him. She took a step towards him. Her chest pressing against his. She could see that it would only take the wrong word to make him snap. And against all odds, against everything, she wanted him to snap. 

“I wish I never met you.” He growled back.

“Liar. You love me.” She grinned up at him. The ripping of fabric was the next thing she heard as he turned her around and pushed her against the kitchen island. He bit into her bottom lip almost drawing blood as she pulled at his shirt, buttons flying everywhere as he ripped her shirt from her skin. Moaning when she felt his cock brush over her pelvis. 

“Fuck yes I love you.” He growled against her lips.

“That’s why I am doing it. Because I fucking love you.” His lips wandered to her naked shoulder, biting into it, making her moan as he marked her.

“You want to kill half of the world because you love me?” She asked breathless, her hands exploring his muscular back. It felt familiar. And a part of her was craving it. His touch. How he could make her feel things she never did before.

“I would kill every living person in this world to make sure you’re safe.” He groaned. She closed her eyes as his mouth closed around her nipple, his teeth pulling at it. Breathing hard she made quick work of his belt, opening his pants. Her hand grabbing his hard cock. 

“You don’t know a single thing about me August.” She whimpered. He opened her pants, one of his hand going into her panties, finding her soaked.

“I know enough.” He growled before he turned her around and pushed her chest down against the counter. 

“You know nothing, August.” She moaned as he shoved her pants down. Slapping her ass hard.

“If I had more time I would make sure you feel me for days. Everytime you try to sit down.” He said, as his hand slapped her ass again. Hard. The burn of her skin clouding her mind. His other hand grabbed her by the hair and brought her up.

“Did you touch yourself at night thinking about me?” He whispered against her ear, as he continued to spank her. 

“Did you try to make yourself cum as hard as I can?” He whispered again, shoving two fingers inside of her. She bit her lip, hearing him chuckle as he scissored his fingers inside of her, going straight for her weak spot. He moved his fingers inside of her quickly, his lips sucking hard on the skin on her neck. He wanted to mark her, he always did. Trying to pull away from him he slapped her ass again before he now pushed three fingers inside of her, making her scream. His thump dipped into her asshole as he kept stroking her G-Spot.

“I know you want to cum….” He whispered against her ear. His hand left her hair and pushed her down on the counter again, his fingers leaving her. The next thing she felt was the tip of his cock teasing her pussy.

Ramming into her in one fluent motion they both moaned loudly. Pain clouded her mind only for a short time before he began to move. Holding on to the counter she closed her eyes, her cheek laying on the counter as he let him have his way. Everything in her mind screamed that she should stop this, that this was wrong, but her body, her heart, was betraying her. She needed this. A part of her needed this. A not rationally thinking part of her needed this. She felt the growing sensation of her climax building inside of her as he fucked her from behind. His grunts filling the room. He slapped her ass again, she was sure she would get bruises.

“Did you miss this cock? Miss how I fuck you?” He groaned as he thrusted deeper. She kept her mouth shut, focussing on only the pleasure he was giving her. The long lost but familiar feeling of her climax made her almost pass out as her muscles clenched around his long cock, making her cry because of the sheer force of the feelings inside of her. His hand in her neck kept her pinned to the counter as he continued to fuck her hard. Suddenly Walter came to her mind. How he prepared breakfast in the morning for her and Evie at this very counter she let her terrorist husband fuck her senseless. Breathing hard she shook her head.

“Stop.” She whimpered, tears springing to her eyes. He didn’t hear her.

“August, Stop.” She said louder, trying to push herself up from the counter  he was still pushing her against. He only strengthened his grip, not slowing down.

“Glitter.” She sobbed loud and clearly. August stopped immediately pulling out of her. She almost fell on her knees as she pushed herself away from him to the other side of the room. Pulling her pants up. Sinking down hugging her knees in the corner of the room, she cried. Ashamed.

“You never used your safeword.” August said quietly. Looking up at him, she only shook her head at his confused face.

“Get the fuck out of my house August.” She said weakly. She watched him as he pulled his pants up, searching for his shirt.

“And better pray that I won’t see you again, because I will kill you for what you did.” She called after him as he walked out in the hallway. He stopped only briefly, looking over his shoulder, before he finally left her.

In the moment the door closed after him Walker broke down, sobbing. She hyperventilated, falling into a full blown panic attack. With her hand on the ground she tried to calm her breathing. Shaking her head she felt ashamed of herself. she could have killed him. Brought him to justice. Instead she let him fuck her like a whore. 

She didn’t know how long she just sat there crying before she heard her phone ring. Slowly getting up from the floor she walked over to where her phone was laying.

She felt new tears building in her eyes as she connected the call.

“Walker?” She heard Marshall’s voice. With her lips trembling she sank down on the floor again.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, concern in his voice when he only heard her shaking breath on the phone. She swallowed.

“August was here…” She whispered under her breath.

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Some Goddamn Curtains

When I was in college, I kept getting the compliment, “Wow, your room is really nice for a guy.”  I never understood what that meant for the longest time.  Then I actually paid attention to how most guys kept their dorm room. I once waited for a guy to get ready to head down to an event. I realized that I had never actually stepped foot in his room, much less even glanced inside of it. So when he stepped out and said he was ready to go, I leaned to the side over his shoulder and oh my god it was like downtown Baghdad during the worst of the Iraq War. Damn bruh, you live like this? I liked all my college roommates but the most untidiest one was in sophomore year. He left his toothbrush lying around in the open in a sock drawer, and it would end up somewhere else each night. Maybe he liked to play scavenger hunts to keep himself on his toes? He never put the DVDs back in their respective cases. I once couldn’t wait to watch Iron Man with a friend at their dorm, only to open the case once I got there and realize that my roommate had replaced it with Season 1 of Martin. He would also do this thing where he would drink a can of Coke (that I bought), not finish it, put it back in the fridge, then later open a new can of Coke that he didn’t feel like finishing, and rinse and repeat. First year roommate wasn’t that bad. Third year roommate was nearly as tidy as I was. Then in my fourth and final year I lived alone,  so my sense of the idea that “guys were messy” didn’t really hit me because I’ve only had one bad experience and chalked it up to “It was just that one guy”. I’m 31, and by now I have noticed people saying things like, “Oh my God I was actually thinking about what curtains I liked and I’m such an adult. This is what adult thinking is like. I’m adulting now.”

I hate hearing shit like that. I grew up blithely admitting liking things that an adult would “normally like”, such as curtains. The curtains thing came up in high school when I hung out at the senior lounge. The senior lounge was this bare room that looked like it was meant for old people to sit and play bingo. It was boring and dull and I hated it. It felt more lke a prison cafeteria really, with some worn out couches. I would bring my video games to that lounge, namely GoldenEye 007, to play with friends during our free period.  The room didn’t have any curtains, so at a certain time in the afternoon, the sun would beat down directly onto the screen, making it difficult to see properly. A lot of us would squint and move closer or lean forward.  I then said, “This room needs some curtains.”

A pause, and then someone replied, “Did you just say this room needs curtains?” And I was like, “Yeah. Maybe something blue. Something dark.”

And he looked at me and scoffed, and all the other guys did the same - they gave me this funny sideways glance and scoffed. I asked what the problem was, but they mostly shook their heads in disbelief. I was frankly annoyed by their response. So I said, louder, “This room needs some goddamn curtains”, because I thought it was perfectly fucking reasonable that a person would logically do something about the fucking glare from the fucking sun. Maybe they liked blinds better. Who knows? But it took me ages to fully realize two things:  1. It’s not socially acceptable for boys to be interested in style - whether it be about living spaces or clothes. I was fiercely made fun of for the clothes I wore as a kid throughout young adult life. I hated all kinds of t-shirts. I think growing up thin and gangly made me too self-aware of my arms. But I never specifically wanted to wear anything that had a band name or a company logo or even my favorite video game or movie. I would feel like a walking advertisement, and that would piss me off. I often liked ties, long-sleeved shirts, and sweaters. I never left the house in sweatpants or pajamas. I always had to comb my hair and put on a good shirt. Sweatpants were when you worked out or worked around the house fixing things.  I grew up in Catholic school, so we had uniforms. On dress down days, my classmates would come up to me and say, “Eddie, you were supposed to dress DOWN, not up” or “I can’t believe you’re wearing that on a dress down day!”.  I didn’t have a problem with people dressing how they dressed. Sure I was never into the goth thing, but I didn’t want to judge. I just wanted to dress how I wanted to dress. And maybe I was influenced in some way by how my parents dressed me up, and maybe other times I did feel embarrassed, but I knew that at the end of the day I would wear what felt most comfortable to me. Sometimes my mom would give me a sweater that was a tad too bland, so I went to the bathroom once I got to school and took it off. I would like the polo but untucked it and unbuttoned the top buttons. Half-and-half. Right idea, but lemme wear it like this instead. College was really when I started to develop my everyday style, my “main outfit”, like a video game character. I always wore some untucked button-down shirt with a tie, jeans, and sneakers. I liked it. It was this weird blend of dressing up and dressing down. People my age thought I was overdressed but my parents and people over 50 complained that I was underdressed. It was great! It feels so special to piss off both sides! My parents still remember the time I got an award at college and I went up the stage wearing that getup. You look at the picture and see the students standing side-by-side in nice dresses and dockers, and then there’s me wearing jeans and sneakers with a shirt and tie.  There always seemed to be this false dichotomy for how men should look and be - either the dapper “metrosexual” man who was slightly effeminate or the rough-and-tumble strong man who didn’t need to use an umbrella when it rained and never cared to fix his hair because that’s some “gay shit” for silly city folk. That false dichotomy is always played out in media. There’s a million buddy cop movies about the book-smart guy who is suave and sophisticated teaming up with the street-smart guy who is all muscle and manly and goes for the more practical route. Yin and Yang. Hot and cold. Good cop and bad cop. Lucky and Wild. Tango and Cash. But growing up I thought, “Why not both?” I loved watching James Bond as much as I loved watching Indiana Jones. Why couldn’t I be both if I really wanted to? It fit me best to play both roles. I AM GOING TO MIX THESE TWO THINGS AND YOU CAN’T FUCKING STOP ME! I WILL BE BOTH BOOK-SMART AND STREET-SMART. I KNOW THE QUADRATIC EQUATION AND HOW TO CON SOMEONE. THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM.  The fucking worst though is being an adult now and hearing women wish they knew a guy who “dressed properly”, and men complimenting my clothes saying I look sharp.

Fuck all of you, honestly. 2. Young people are afraid to admit they like things that adults like. I grew up with extended family members living in cozy homes. I liked to admire their grandfather clocks, their decanters, their entertainment center, their offices and their chairs. I liked to wander around their houses during the holidays and poke my nose into their closets and admire old things. Maybe it’s something that an only-child might relate to the most. I wasn’t required or asked to be upstairs to attend a younger or older sibling. The adults just did their own thing and so I wandered off. Ikea always tickled my fancy as a kid. I would wander through the model rooms of offices and bedrooms and bathrooms, and I found whatever felt coziest to me and pretended that I was home. Better yet, I sometimes daydreamed that the entire Ikea facility was my home. How about that? Tired of sleeping on the bunk bed? Go to the next room to the big bed. I feel like cooking in that kitchen today, not this one. Some days I’ll feel more serious and work in the wooden office desk and other days I’ll feel silly and be in the kids room. I’ll take the whole building, please. This is where I live now. Swedish meatballs for dinner and creamy European chocolate bars for dessert every day. Young people fear being old and facing responsibilities. That doesn’t mean you liking these things makes you older. Taste and style is part of who you are, and there’s no shame if you have an interest in some bath mats or a nice decanter when you’re 20 or 17.

When I lived in my single dorm back in senior year of college, I realized that I was truly living alone for the first time. It brought some sanity to me that I didn’t know I needed. I was able to organize things how I saw fit, and hosted parties whenever I wanted. If I felt like something needed adjusting, I didn’t need to ask anybody’s permission. I really started exploring my sense of style and taste. As I grew up, I developed really specific tastes about where I would live: 1. Everything has to make sense. The placement of shelves, TVs, desks, dressers, paintings, pictures, all have to feel like they are easily viewed and accessible without needing to awkwardly turn to face them or reach them.  2. Symmetry is not always necessary but still good to fall back on when you don’t know what to do. 3. I never liked to sit with my back to the window(s) or the door. I always needed to see who or what was going to approach me or look at me.  4. TVs should never go on top of fireplaces.  5. Always have some kind of drawing room for guests to wait.  6. Never put your keys or sensitive documents in the foyer, drawing room, or wherever else strangers can easily find them the minute they walk into the house.  7. Open concept is pretentious.  8. It is far easier to cook if you have an island in the kitchen.  9. McMansions are the bane of style. Fake balconies, fake shutters, brick facades - everything about them is evil.  10. Get some goddamn curtains.

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Effie turns 40

(Hayffie 💜🔥💥. NSFW. Sexual content and intensities at the threshold of midlife. Despite the title, this fic is primarily Haymitch-centric. The story, set about 7-8 years after Mockingjay, is part of a longer arc. Envisioning H & E’s character development is such a muse for me. Their voices were difficult for me to write in this one. I’m figuring them out as I go along. It’s a labor of love right now. Thank you for sharing the prompt — #13 below.)

***

Some decisions are calculated; you make them after they’ve turned over in your mind for hours, days, years even. Effie moving to 12 had been like that. Other decisions can’t even be called ‘decisions’ really. ‘Impulses’ would be more accurate.

Haymitch was generally not impulsive, unless alcohol clouded his judgement or blacked out all thought. There had been no alcohol the night before — on the eve of Effie’s 40th birthday, sobriety was part of their deal. And the whole thing was argueably the best sex he’d ever had with her or anyone else. Not that anyone was arguing the point.

Except something nagged at him — an impulse half-remembered, not because he’d been drunk, but because it had been hers — her impulse... maybe. And only as the sun came up did he give it thought.

“Don’t pull out...”

Her words turned over in his mind, belatedly.

During the night, the sheets had slipped to his side of the bed. If she woke just then, she’d accuse him of stealing the covers, which he likely did, since his sleep was fitful. A lock of hair coiled above her collarbone. He wasn’t sure how the ringlet stayed, given how many times he’d raked his fingers through her hair, pulled at it, dove inside it with that part of him that was into her far beyond the reach of his body.

He traced the curl with a fingertip then glanced down her breasts to her belly. Over a year ago there had been a baby there, for a while. He usually tried not to think about it. But the memory of its heartbeat nagged that morning along with the rest of Effie’s words.

“...Come inside me. It’ll be okay... It’ll be incredible.”

He didn’t hesitate. After pulling out all those months, staying in and feeling her clench around him as he spilled inside her had been so intoxicating that he didn’t even drink afterwards.

Before the pregnancy, Effie was fastidious about birth control. She set timers and took pills at precisely the same minute every day. After the miscarriage, she needed time to decide what to do since the pharmaceuticals had failed. And she felt like her body had failed.

Was she using something new? Did she get a shot or an implant? She hadn’t told him. Why hadn’t she told him?? Why hadn’t he asked her as she clutched his hips and reassured him and kept him in when he would have pulled out. Damn... just thinking about it made him want her exactly like that again.

He was planning to eat her out with breakfast. There was whipped cream in the fridge, and strawberries. He’d bought champagne, which she preferred to hard liquor. He’d drink it from the hollow of her stomach and let her do whatever she wanted to him, within reason. His girl would not be happy waking up 40, but he was planning to make her happy.

His thoughts mulled hot like spiced cider. And his mind wouldn’t let go of uncertainty or the memory of the heartbeat...gone. He didn’t want to go through that shit again.

He slid the covers over her, tucked the curl behind her ear, and waited impatiently for her to wake up.

***

Even with the curtains closed, the sun tormented Effie with reality. In that moment, 40 was the last thing she wanted to be. She rolled away from the window, pulled a blanket over her eyes, and tried falling back to sleep to no avail. She sighed in resignation.

Beneath the sheet, Haymitch caressed along the curve of her hip. His thoughts and emotions which had been rolling earlier were holding steady at the surface. This was her birthday. How long should he let her wake up before asking what he wanted to know?

She dropped the blanket from her eyes and opened them. As he stared into her, there was nothing playful about his expression, just unmistakable intensity. The feeling of a luminous bubble expanded in her chest and stretched along her midline to the juncture of her thighs.

She reached out and held his face in her palm. His jaw was still smooth with just a hint of stubble. She brushed her fingertips in the direction she knew the hair would grow. The familiar act flooded her with sensations of the night before, and she wanted his mouth on her.

She inched closer and nestled against him. Her lips plucked his once, and then again, sliding the tip of her tongue along the seam of his lips. He opened as she expected, and he sucked her in all at once. His teeth caught her lip, and the sting brought her nails digging into his back.

He groaned along her tongue as their bodies brushed, seeking a fit to burst the bubble, which he was feeling now too. Intensity built quickly. He had something to ask, but there wasn’t space now between them for thinking, just feeling.

She drew her leg up along his side, and she opened. He clutched her hips and slipped in slowly, but slow wasn’t enough — like when horses turn home, anticipating oats and cubes of sugar.

She pressed her calf to his ass, urging. A thrill rushed through her as he sank into the sweetest spot. “I’m gonna come fast, honey.” She let go of his mouth in order to say so. “I can feel it.”

His toes curled in the words. He was snug inside her, and she was so wet already. “Fuck, Effie. We just started.”

“I know.” She met him with upward thrusts, letting go of restraint and taking control in turn, drawing out her own pleasure. “Look at me.”

He met her gaze again and held it. Her fervor was catching. He gritted his teeth and matched her pace, holding back when she slowed. Then pushing home like the horses.

“It’s so much,” she spoke of the feeling between them. Her nails played up his spine to the nape of his neck, then along his scalp. His shiver was a harbinger of what was coming. “It’s so much, Haymitch.”

His confession was quiet, tucked somewhere in between guttural sounds and a calloused thumb stroking her breast. “It’s everything.”

The admission, the gentle roughness, the flood of emotion lit her up. “Ohh, I can’t stop it.”

“Jesus. Why would you wanna stop it?” He said it to himself as much as to her.

Luminosity exploded. Her body quaked, milking the length of him. The force of creation swelled. For a moment she was the whole world — his girl. The whole goddamn world. He climaxed inside her without asking the question, without saying another word beyond their cries of pleasure and release. They broke open, glistening.

When her shaking stopped, there were tears on her cheeks. Her leg flopped back onto the bed. “Damn...” she whispered, “I’d be willing to turn 40 every day if each one can start like this.”

He wanted to linger inside her and kiss her tears and tell her how glad he was that she’d been born exactly WHEN she was so she could be exactly WHO she was — somebody who made him feel things he never thought he’d be feeling.

But the nagging uncertainty which had been holding steady on the surface boiled over, and he said none of that. Irritation crept into his voice.

“Damn it. You’re a fucking Siren.” His shift in tone was clear.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That depends.” He looked into her eyes once more, assessing her critically. Then he rolled out of her before he’d fully softened.

“On what?” She turned to face him.

“What birth control are you using now?”

She hesitated. “It’s called being 40.”

“What?”

“I’m old now.”

His face was blank. “40 isn’t old, and it sure ain’t birth control.”

“Withdrawal isn’t 100% effective, and you’ve been doing that for a year with no babies.”

Haymitch sat up, trying to figure out what was happening. “Me pulling out is a hell of a lot more effective birth control than you being 40!”

She draped her arm across her eyes. Saying the truth was uncomfortable, especially with him upset. “My eggs are mummified.”

“Overnight?! You were on your period last week for christ sake! Your drama is gonna get us pregnant again. Is that what you want?!”

Everything got quiet. She uncovered her eyes and dropped her arm to her stomach. “You said ‘us.’ Why talk about US getting pregnant when it’s never going to happen?”

“It ALREADY happened, not even two years ago. And right now there are millions, maybe hundreds of millions, of my guys swimming inside you. It just takes one *non-mummified* egg, and we’re back where we were a year and a half ago. Is that where you want to be?!”

She paused before answering. The delay was long. Way too long, he thought. Her thumb caressed her stomach, just once, but he noticed.

“Effie, do you want a baby?!”

“...I don’t know. ...Maybe. I don’t know!”

“Maybe!? You don’t know!? Well, you might have just gotten one, and I didn’t even get a say!”

He was inches from her in their bed, and he wasn’t touching her. He was scowling as if she’d stabbed him in the back with his own knife.

“I didn’t force you to be with me just now — or last night! ‘IT’S EVERYTHING,’ you said. You JUST said that! What happened to THAT?”

“‘Don’t pull out,’ you said! ‘Come inside me,’ you said! ‘It’ll be okay — It’ll be INCREDIBLE,’ you said!!”

“It WAS incredible! Sex is always good between us but never quite like that. And it’s not because you shaved, or I waxed or I wore that awful pleated skirt. It’s something more. I felt it last night and again just now. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it too because I KNOW you did!”

He leaped out of bed and stood naked in the middle of the room, fuming at her. Every muscle in his body was rigid. She wanted to touch him and soothe him and make him understand.

“Why do you have to be like this and ruin everything?!”

“You tricked me.”

“I did NOT! When have I EVER been deceitful?! You’re being unfair.”

He stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

As the water ran in the shower, Effie stayed in bed. Only when the room was quiet did she realize what she’d been doing. While they’d argued, she was clenching her pelvic floor, holding in those millions of sperm he’d mentioned. If I’m certain that I’m too old to have a baby, and if I don’t even know whether or not I would want to have one, then why am I doing this??

The only answers she could think of were that just maybe she wasn’t too old, and just maybe she knew more than she’d realized. Everything was jumbled, and she didn’t want to let go.

When Haymitch stepped out of the bathroom, he dressed in stony silence.

“We need to talk about this,” she said.

There were fresh tears on her cheeks, but they barely phased him. “I feel suffocated. I’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Fine. Walk away...” As he did, she tried to sound angry. “Walking away is what you always do!”

She steeled herself against the sound she knew was coming. When she heard the front door slam, she told herself, “At the end of the day, it’s my bed he’s crawling back into!” She tried to sound confident, but her voice wavered. Because she wasn’t confident — and she wasn’t angry. Not really.

She was confused, and she was sad. She was 40 — and so goddamn sad.

***

Getting out of the house wasn’t enough. Haymitch wanted out of his feelings, out of his thoughts, out of his body. Walking away wasn’t enough, so he ran — at least fifty yards, veering off the road through a field, thick with grasses and aging saplings. He steered clear of scattered houses and the voices of people. People were just waiting to screw him over and slit his throat. Oats and cubes of sugar were a fucking fantasy. He was running toward nothing, chasing his own breath.

When he couldn’t catch it, he stopped and reached into his coat for his flask. It wasn’t there. Shit. At least coins jingled in his pockets. He gathered them up, and counted out enough to buy a bottle. He set off again in the direction of the Hob, walking now since he’d lost steam for anything else. He’d have to face people after all.

The building was uncrowded for mid morning. Fragrances of food and coffee made his stomach protest its emptiness. He bought a bottle of whiskey and had enough cash left on him for a bowl of soup.

“Mornin’, boy,” Greasy Sae greeted him in the usual way, “You’re showin’ up here mighty early.” She glanced at the bottle tucked in the crook of his elbow. “You pickin’ up supplies for the party?”

Fuck. He’d forgotten. Peeta was hosting a surprise that afternoon, baking a big cake and everything for Effie. Haymitch had no idea who all had been invited. Damn near everyone in 12 knew her now, outgoing as she was. Hopefully Katniss had reined in the boy’s generosity, and they’d keep the gathering small. Though Haymitch didn’t want to deal with any of that shit now.

“Can I get you a cup of beef soup?” Sae asked when he hadn’t responded, “Just made it fresh this mornin’ with the real thing.”

“The party. Right...” he answered late.

Peeta had asked him to come up with some excuse to get Effie to their place early in the afternoon. ...I just heard the kids talking about curtains, maybe you should go over and help them out... Something like that ought to do. Until the fight that morning, he’d been looking forward to spending time with them. He’d been looking forward to everything.

“...Soup would be fine,” he answered after Sae had already ladeled some into an oversized cup.

“How’s that girl of yours?” She filled the silence as Haymitch counted out change. “Turnin’ 40 can be tough for a woman. We tend to feel age differently before we’ve got kids. Once there’s kids, we ain’t got time to feel old. Take a moment to even breathe, and they’ll run right over you.” She handed him the soup. “I know she lost one, and losin’ ‘em hurts. It’s real hard to lose your first. But I got hope for you.”

As he stood there with the cup warming his hands, facing Sae’s crinkled brown eyes and thin smile, he felt Effie’s words filling his gut... Why do you have to be like this and ruin everything?! The thought stole his appetite, but he drank the soup anyway in three gulps and handed the cup back to her. The food calmed his stomach. “Guess I was hungrier than I felt.”

“Feelin’s can fool us. A body can get so used to emptiness that we start feelin’ full from it. But emptiness ain’t gonna nourish you. ...Now, I got customers waitin’. Tell Effie I’m wishin’ her a happy birthday.”

“I’ll do that,” Haymitch said out of habit. He was going to have to talk to Effie eventually, but he wasn’t ready.

He left the Hob feeling like a hypocrite. He’d accused her of tricking him when he was all too eager to finish off sex inside her with nothing in between them — so eager he’d done it twice. And, damn it, he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to do it again.

He cracked open the bottle and tried to chase away regret about what he’d said to her. He followed the gravel road deeper into what used to be the Seam. Long ago it was home, but home changes. The only things that tied him to that stretch of land were memories and wounds long sealed by scars.

His open wounds were elsewhere now, like home was. Swallows of whiskey wrapped the wounds in a layer of gauze. He could think and feel through it, but the thoughts and feelings were hazy, like the mist that covers the meadow in the morning before it’s touched by the sun.

Ghosts of a sort came out of the mist and murmured their stories. He wasn’t sober enough to tell the voices to fuck off, and he wasn’t drunk enough to not hear them. So he listened through the haze, walking without a destination in mind.

***

The first voice — longing — came from the seashore. Skipping rocks and building sandcastles with Annie’s boy had flipped a switch in him. The kid had been his shadow. At the week’s end, the little guy reluctantly said goodbye with a bear hug and a sloppy kiss on Haymitch’s cheek. What might have been if Effie’s baby had lived and become a child? Their child. It would have been something in between a giant pain in the ass and a love big enough to eat him alive.

I’d be a fool to consider bringing a kid into this fucked up world on purpose, the second voice — reason — said. He was an alcoholic who drank to stay alive. He believed he had no business being anybody’s father. And Effie nearly had a seizure every time she stepped in a pile of goose shit. Babies crap all the time, and they puke all over the place. And sleep?... Forget about doing it because they don’t.

And sometimes they die. A third voice — grief — lamented. They fucking die, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.

That fateful morning last year when Effie was losing the baby, she’d roused him from sleep. The chill in her voice tugged his heart into his stomach. “Haymitch, something is VERY wrong.” Cramping had come on in her back and abdomen, and she was bleeding.

Adrenaline rushed to his limbs as if he was in the arena. He’d gone to call for the doctor, and when he returned, Effie was sitting in the dry bathtub, still in her nightie. A steady stream of blood trickled down the drain, and she was holding something reddish purple in the palm of her hand. It was the baby — no bigger than an apple. ...Its name had been pulled from the Reaping Ball before it even had a name.

“I’m sorry,” she kept telling the tiny thing. “I’m so sorry...” She looked at Haymitch as he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and chest. Her eyes held no tears.

He wasn’t thinking about the baby just then. He was scared out of his mind about losing Effie. “The doc will be here real soon.” It was all he could say as he sat on the edge of the tub, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair. He must have said it as many times as she said “I’m sorry.”

The doctor’s arrival, exam, and treatment were all a blur.

“I know it seems like a lot of blood,” the doc said later, “But there are no signs of hemorrhaging or uterine abnormalities. I was able to remove the placenta. A miscarriage happens more rarely at this stage, but it’s not uncommon. I’m sorry, Effie — Haymitch. ...She appears to be developmentally normal for 15 weeks gestation. I wish could offer an explanation. Sometimes these things just happen. A miscarriage doesn’t necessarily negatively affect subsequent pregnancies. It may take several weeks to recover. When you feel ready, you can try again.”

“We weren’t trying.” Haymitch wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to clarify.

“She?” Effie had heard the doctor say it, even if she took in nothing else. She had only let go of the baby long enough for the doc to examine it. Otherwise she held it against her chest.

“Gender can be difficult to determine this early, but the signs indicate a girl. An autopsy could confirm, and it might show the cause of the miscarriage. If you’d like—“

“No,” Effie insisted, “I can’t let you take her and cut her open. She’ll be staying here.”

That afternoon Haymitch dug a grave under the maple tree in the backyard. He made it a full six feet deep so the scavengers wouldn’t find her and pick her apart.

Effie wrapped the baby in a small blanket along with her umbilical cord and the pieces of placenta and laid her in a jewelry box. “She’s used to being inside me. She’d be cold in the ground without a blanket.”

The words had been madness. If he’d let himself think about it like that, then he wouldn’t have gotten through it. One of them had to stay sane. Burying the tiny girl was his first and last act of care for her. Shoveling all that dirt over her was like burying an axe in his gut.

I refuse to go through that shit again, the fourth voice spoke in a convergence — anger and fear. It had been the one yelling earlier, as he took the discomfort of his wounds out on Effie. Thinking about the baby was too much, and his body wasn’t even the one she’d lived inside all those weeks. ...Effie’s was.

His feet turned him around, and he headed back up the road. This time he knew where he was going.

***

At home in the yard, the geese barked at him about leaving them to forage for their own breakfasts. The grass was sparse due to lack of attention. Not wanting their hunger to be something else on his conscience, he scooped wheat into their water buckets and pellets into their feed bowls. As they ate, they quieted down and left him alone, which was just fine by him. He liked most of them better at a distance.

Grass didn’t grow under the maple tree. A dense network of roots kept other plants from taking hold. He’d dug through six feet of those roots, and he pictured them growing back now around the jewelry box. The little coffin wouldn’t drift underground whenever the rains came. The tree would hold it in place.

He sat with his back against the tree and took another drink of whiskey — just enough to try to restore the haze which had worn off, leaving him raw again. Mist filled his eyes. The memories coming up were vivid and close. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. He hadn’t cried about anything in so long that he’d forgotten the way tears clog a person’s head before slipping out. They slid down the back of his throat until he’d swallowed so many that he thought he might throw up.

Effie found him there. She shuffled her feet as she approached so she wouldn’t startle him. She sat on the ground, cross legged with her hands in her lap. In the moment, she didn’t care if the soil stained her skirt. In all the years she’d known Haymitch, she’d never seen him cry. She ached to touch him, but she was afraid he’d pull away, so she didn’t reach. He didn’t look at her, but he didn’t tell her to leave, and he didn’t leave either.

Long minutes passed before either of them spoke. In the silence, Effie was uneasy, but at least she wasn’t alone. He was right beside her. The geese wandered the grass, and a breeze was blowing through the maple leaves. The leaves brushed against each other, whispering things she could only imagine.

“We need to talk.” Choked up and hoarse, Haymitch sounded like a stranger.

“Yes, we do.”

He looked at her with swollen eyes. Hers were more pink than white. He was beating himself up inside for making her cry about this, especially today. “I don’t wanna fight,” he said. The battle raging between the voices in his head was all he could handle.

“I don’t want us to fight either. ...Not here. Not about this.” She glanced at the the baby’s grave. “I had no intention of tricking you about anything, especially this.”

“I know.” His swift acknowledgement surprised her. He reached for her hand and interlaced their fingers in her lap. “I didn’t mean to ruin your day.”

She held his hand as a lifeline. “It isn’t ruined.” She paused before saying it in order to keep from crying again.

“It’s not what I planned.”

“Things don’t always turn out the way we plan.” She hesitated before saying more. “...For a short time after I lost the baby, my breasts made milk. Did I ever tell you that?”

“I don’t think I was hearing much then.” He looked at her breasts, wondering what other details she’d faced alone. “I remember tracing veins there that I hadn’t seen before. ...Sometimes I watched your stomach while you were sleeping.” Sometimes I still do, he didn’t say.

“I never got to feel the baby moving inside me. She was always too small to feel. ...She had the prettiest hands. Long fingers for playing piano. Do you remember?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t remember her hands. He leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. “I’m mixed up, Effie.”

She scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder. “Oh, honey, I am too.”

He caressed her thumb with his, and she watched the maple leaves cast shadows over their entwined fingers.

***

Eventually the geese wandered over, honking for more handouts.

“Give them an inch, and they want a yard.”

“If they had an actual yard, they probably wouldn’t be so demanding.”

“Suddenly you’re the goose whisperer?”

“‘Goose’ and ‘whisper’ do not belong in the same sentence.”

“I’ll give you that.” He pulled her to her feet, and they went in the house.

Despite the bit of teasing, the solemn mood followed them inside. There was much more to say, but they were both saturated.

“Listen,” he told her, “I don’t know if you want to hear this, but in about an hour I’m supposed to tell you that the kids are talking about getting new curtains and maybe you ought to go over and help them out.”

“Is that the secret code for my surprise party?”

“Peeta is trying to be subtle.”

“That dear boy is anything but subtle. This morning he was decorating a two-tiered cake with the blinds open. They actually COULD use some curtains.”

“If you’re not up for the party, I’ll have them call it off. Peeta might have invited half the town. I don’t know.”

“Be with me awhile. Then I’ll be okay to go.”

Haymitch was unsettled by the realization that being with her ‘awhile’ might never again be enough. Having witnessed so much death, ‘forever’ had always been a subjective and fairly meaningless concept. But it was starting to feel like something other than an endless train of horror. It felt precious and terrifying in a different way.

Effie stepped into his arms as he opened them. He needed to be held as badly as he needed to be holding her. Needing somebody other than himself was dangerous. He was uneasy with it, but he didn’t let go.

“Are you hungry?” He spoke softly against her temple. “I screwed up what I had planned for you for breakfast. I wanted to make you — happy.”

“I ate a little. Maybe we can have your breakfast for dinner?”

Sex was a touchy subject just then, but he wasn’t going to tiptoe around it. “It was gonna be breakfast in bed, using our bodies as plates and glasses. ...Are you still interested?”

“That depends. Will I get to make you — happy — too?”

If he thought too much about her sucking whipped cream off his dick, then they’d never make it to the party. “It’s your birthday, sweetheart. You make the wishes. I wouldn’t turn down that offer.”

At the end of the day, it’s my bed he’s crawling back into. The understanding was as comforting as his arms around her. She didn’t know what ‘everything’ would be, but whatever it might be, she wanted it with him.

[s1utspeare]

Get To Know Me!

@foxofninetales tagged me in this ask game and since I LOVE HER i will now be doing it (i mean i’d do it anyway but now it will be filled with love for FOX i am not accepting CRITICISM ON THIS POINT)

Part I

name: Brigid! I’m named after the Irish goddess of like, poetry, healing, smithcraft, and protection, or the Irish saint (they’re both pretty similar it’s just whether or not you’re talking about Celtic religion or Catholicism). She’s very cool, and I think it’s a very fitting name for who I turned out to be!

pronouns: she/her

star sign: i’m an insufferable theatre kid of course I’m a Leo

height: 5'8″ babeeeyyy (172 cm). I’m not short like, at all, but all of my family members are over six foot, so I’m like. tiny in comparison. they all make fun of me all the time for it :(

time: 8:49pm! A delightful time of evening!!! 

birthday: July 31st, same day as Harry Potter lol.

nationality: american :P

fave bands/groups/solo artists: hnnnngggghhhh why would u ask me this I don’t KNOW jk i just have a lot uhhhhh all time faves would be Bastille and Mumford and Sons, but I’m SUPER into kpop right now, so my top groups are BTS, Stray Kids, and One OK Rock (who are technically jpop but I really like their stuff). I also am a Broadway BITCH (hello, theatre kid) so before this year all of my Spotify library was basically just show tunes. 

song stuck in your head: Get Away by VeriVery. I think they’re a pretty new group? idk i saw them on one of those tumblr promotional things and checked out the music video which is like??? really interesting conceptually? so I’ve just been listening to the song for a while lol. 

last movie you watched: Train to Busan! I’m gearing up to write a dmbj zombie apocalypse AU and so I was like “this is a popular zombie film! I’ll watch it for inspiration! :)” holy shit. holy shit i was so wrong. It’s one of the most viscerally affecting films I think I’ve ever seen, I was like. On the verge of an anxiety attack the entire time but in like the best possible way?? it’s a mastery of character introduction and action/horror and I cried for like the last ten minutes straight. SO affecting. I do NOT RECOMMEND IT if u are already made anxious by zombie apocalypse scenarios, blood, violence, and a Lot of Death. 

last show you binged: hmmm uh like I’m currently watching Mystic Nine but at like a normal pace, so the last show I probably binge watched was maybeeee The Uncanny Counter on Netflix? HIGHLY recommend that one, I made @cross-d-a watch it and I’m living for her liveblog reactions lmao. Idk most of my free time has been spent writing the past few months which. After months of only having the energy to watch shows is kind of really invigorating? the things u can do when u fix ur health I’ll tell you what

when you created your blog: in 2012 asldighalsdkfjladskjga i came on here to like burdge’s pjo fanart :)

the last thing you googled: "is it bad not to have an air cap on your tire” ALSDIGHALKDFJLADFJA FUCK ME (i learned that it’s not necessarily bad but it can get dirt and stuff built up in there so I went to the store after work today and replaced it)

other blogs: everything is here bc i am too lazy to create a sideblog! so sorry to everyone who does not follow me for cdrama content bc this is all I am now. 

why i chose my url: cause it’s my ao3 username and i wanted people to be able to find me more easily on tumblr! :) the long answer is because i love shakespeare and also i think that slut is a really funny word and concept for me especially because i am one of the most sexless people u will ever meet in ur life so slutspeare is like. an aggressively ace joke that only I think is funny. 

how many people are you following: 588

how many followers do you have: ah just over 200?!??!!? which is like. a lot for me. I think it was like 75 up until like last year omg 

average hours of sleep: my sleep app says I average around eight! which is very good for me! I do have to get enough sleep consistently or I will Have A Bad Time so my sleep schedule is pretty good and luckily I don’t have the Insomnia depression I have the Sleep Lots one which I am glad for bc idk what I’d do if I couldn’t Be Unconscious regularly. Die probably. 

lucky numbers: I don’t think I have lucky numbers?? my favorite number is 21 for no reason other than the vibes alone. 

instruments: i’ve played the piano for uhhhh.... eighteen years now? and I can play the ukulele and am surprisingly good with the recorder since I’ve had to play it in Multiple Theatre Performances. I was also an honor choir singer back in high school so I’ve done a lot of select ensemble stuff which was super fun! 

what i'm currently wearing: a Life Is Good long-sleeved t-shirt that says “Not All Who Wander Are Lost” that I got in a military surplus store like a million years ago and red Adidas athletic shorts that I found at the thrift store a couple weeks back

dream job: playwright! I just wanna be a playwright! playwriting is like drugs i literally go nuts for it

dream trip: I don’t know??? I don’t really like traveling tbh aslidhalkfdj umm I do want to see the grand canyon sometime before I die tho so maybe a road trip down there? I definitely like traveling solo so I’d probably just hang out with myself and drive and go to whatever places I want and see dumb tourist attractions and sing loudly in the car

fave food: CURRY i know i said eggs the last time it asked me this but I miss my local Indian restaurant I want to eat literal Platefuls of tikka masala at 12pm at the Indian buffet after my physics class again :(

top three fictional universe you'd like to live in: hmmm i don’t know, actually! probably one where I have Powers and could do Cool Hand Motions and make Lights Appear. If I were anywhere with like. An Actual World-Dooming problem tho I would not be helpful at all. I would just die. Besides, I already live in fictional universes half the time, I’m a writer! 

Part II

last song: Basquiat by Pentagon! The music video is like. Very whumpy. So if you’re into that... the song’s also a bop

last stream: i don't watch streams very often, I just watch clips from them, cause those usually just give the best parts lol 

currently reading: mmmmmbbbaaaaahhhhh literally nothing? I’m trying to get caught up on the backlog of dmbj fic I haven’t gotten around to so Binding by @vishcount is next on that list! oh I guess I’m also reading Johnny Tremain with my kids (one of them SPOILED THE END and I forgot how it ended and now I’m big sad). 

currently watching: Mystic Niiiiinnnneeeeee! love those gay history bitches. everyone in that show is so funny. I just finished the Fuba Side Plot tho and now we’re back to Politics so i’m like >:( someone give zhang baby rishan a hug (and then i write angst about him what is wrong with me)

what is antipoetry to you: antipoetry??? what the heck is antipoetry hold on... uhhhh that’s just poetry. who came up with this term. i guess like lyrical fiction would be the technical correct definition but idk I consider anything to be poetry! like that’s the whole point! poetry is poetry is poetry as long as it’s focused on intensity and emotions it’s poetry! a haiku? poetry. the random one-lined mess of words on my phone? poetry. a literal drawing of a cardinal with the word “bird” written next to it? poetry. idk I’ve been trying to teach my kids that there are no wrong ways to write creatively; if you’re expressing yourself and making emotions, then you’re writing! also like half of my work could be considered antipoetry lmao. I love emotionally supercharging the mundane.

currently craving: i have noooo ideaaaasssss i’m literally just vibing. uh. water? ok i took care of that one my water bottle was right next to me. 

AH IF YOU READ THIS MUCH THANK YOU???? i love u 

uhhhh no pressure tags for @xia-xueyi, @nope4ever, @bookjoyworm, @elletromil, and @gaiahenshin, as well as anyone else who would like to give the full-rundown on themselves! :D

[yodawgiherd]

You Were Never Truly Gone ch.8

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Soooo, you guys saw the leaks? Bruh.....

This was it, her triumph, everything Kiyomi was hoping for. The pair was together in front of the altar, flanked on both sides by the mass of Faceless guard, each member hidden behind the traditional mask. Standing in the first row Kiyomi admired how gorgeous Mikasa looked in her white wedding dress, head covered by a hood. The Shogun was right there with her, dressed in black as a counterpoint to his bride, the smile on his face genuine and Kiyomi felt a pang of pride in her chest.

See? I told you that she’s beautiful.

Everything falling into place, as she listened to the Shogun recite his wedding vows, Kiyomi’s mind was already plotting on what to do next. She was the hero now, the one who brought them the new symbol, and she had to make sure that the other nobles remembered that, first she would….

The man was finished, and now it was Mikasa’s turn to speak. The priest looked at her expectantly, nudging her to begin her vows but the girl didn’t say a word. Instead, her gaze scanned the crowd until she found Kiyomi’s, forcing their eyes to clash. Confused, Kiyomi mouthed for her to go on with the wedding. But to her horror, the Ackerman girl didn’t comply.

An exceptionally cruel smile parted the blood-red lips.

And then the Shogun was stumbling back, a dagger thrust in his chest. One of the Faceless moved drawing his blade, and before anyone could do anything he rammed it into the groom’s back.

Chaos ensued.

Screams from everywhere, sounds of running as people panicked while Kiyomi stood where she was, staring at the scene. The treacherous guard pulled down his mask, revealing that shitty beard and green eyes that Kiyomi despised. Eren Yeager, the bastard, reached out and took Mikasa’s hand, pulling her into an embrace. All around them, the rest of the Faceless guard followed his lead, drawing their swords and hacking into the gathered nobles, blood splattering all over the temple’s walls.

Kiyomi couldn’t move. She stood and stared as the two kissed in front of the altar, the place where she was supposed to have her greatest victory. Instead of that, she was looking at the greatest loss as people around her kept dying, cut down by the Shogun’s guard. To make everything worse the ground itself shook, and faint stomps could be heard.

Separating from Mikasa’s lips, Eren looked her straight in the eye, his triumphal grin disgusting to look at.

“You know how I told you that I can’t restart the rumbling?”

Cracks ran all over the roof, and his next words confirmed Kiyomi’s greatest fear.

“I lied.”

A colossal titan’s foot came through the ceiling, and Kiyomi didn’t even get the chance to scream before she was crushed to a pulp.

Waking up with a gasp Kiyomi clutched at her chest, staring wide-eyed over the darkened room. Cabin, it was the cabin, she was still at the ship. A dream, nightmare, nothing else. Breathing deep to dispel the terror, she squeezed her eyes shut while massaging her temples.

It would seem that Eren’s sudden re-appearance did a number on her mental state, and Kiyomi couldn’t even say that she was surprised by that. He was nothing short of a monster, and she was right to hate him, right to despise that man from the bottom of her heart.

No, pull yourself together.

It doesn’t matter that he’s back, the plan is still going, Mikasa agreed to it. There will be no assassination and titan army, that was in the past and wouldn’t happen again. The horrors of the past were nothing but a memory, a terrible one but gone forever. Calming herself with measured breathing, Kiyomi laid back on the bed, looking at the moonlight dancing on the cabin’s ceiling.

It will be fine. Everything will be fine. Just a few more days…

The week-long voyage was supposed to be a beautiful dream. Kiyomi imagined it sometimes, how it would feel when she is carrying the fabled Mikasa Ackerman back towards Hizuru, saving her nation and the world in a single stroke. It was the moment of her greatest triumph, years of plotting and sacrifice finally bearing that sweet, sweet fruit. She wanted to spend the time wisely, get to know the Ackerman girl – the future wife of the leader – better, maybe plant some seeds into her that she could collect on later. Yes, it should have been great, a dream come true.

It was a purgatory instead.

Any time Kiyomi saw Eren she couldn’t help but feel the anger in her rising. He wasn’t even doing anything, just talking to the sailors and soldiers, joking with them even, the bastard truly had no brakes. They all liked him, she heard, Aaron was a popular guy and it made her teeth grit. Nobody knew that they were laughing around with a monster, a man that started an apocalypse.

No, to them this was just Aaron, a friend of the Ackerman girl.

It was even worse to find the two lovebirds together. Kiyomi was never big on romance, always putting career in front of her personal needs, and it didn’t feel good being slapped in the face with it. It was everything, all the little gestures – watching them eat together, passing by as they strolled along the ship corridors hand-in-hand, catching them stargazing while they laid on the roof. She had no issues with Mikasa having fun, laughing, giggling, and being in love, she hated that Eren got to experience it too. It wasn’t fair, not to the millions that he trampled.

Her mood got even worse when she saw them kissing, hidden in corners of the ship, once in a cargo hold too, it made Kiyomi miserable. Didn’t help that after three night of relatively peaceful sleep, bar the nightmare, she was once again awoken by: “Ah, Ah Eren, right there! Don’t stop!”.

That night she didn’t lay in bed and waited for it to end. Fed up with the two, Kiyomi left her cabin and leaned on the railing outside, popping a cigarette between her lips. Smoking in silence she stared over the waves, contemplating her situation.

Hizuru was getting closer and closer. In just about two to three days they would arrive, and she would present Mikasa to the people as their new symbol. Her marriage to the Shogun would be quite an event requiring a lot of planning and plotting on Kiyomi’s part – there were nobles to talk to, bribe, charm and threaten. After the Rumbling Hizuru more or less fell apart, shattered into pieces as many small-time barons took advantage of the chaos. She was serious about needing Mikasa, because through her – and the child of course – they would gain a unifying symbol.

Kiyomi sighed, tapping the ash into the ocean.

So much work, and so far from over. Picking the correct baron and convincing him to have his son marry this imported girl was difficult. He didn’t know Mikasa, and even with Kiyomi’s assurance that she is a beautiful and very dignified young woman it wasn’t easy. She managed, in the end, but now she had to think about what will happen once the future Shogun finds out about Eren. Or Aaron, doesn’t matter.

Mikasa was from the ideal “princess” – she was no delicate flower to be protected and that required a strong man in her life. She wasn’t a shy virgin with a blush on her rosy cheeks that could be presented to her future husband on a silver platter. None of that.

If Kiyomi would describe Mikasa with one word it would be powerful – both physically and mentally she was admirably strong. Quiet but not to be underestimated, not easy to manipulate either as Kiyomi found out recently. She played on the old woman’s desperation perfectly, forcing her to accept terms that would normally be impossible. Her having a lover was scandalous on its own, but that the person was no one else but the genocidal maniac everyone believed to be dead, now that was the cherry on top.

Bah.

Nothing to do about that now. Kiyomi was played for a fool but that would end soon – Hizuru was her stomping ground, the Ackerman girl knew no one there and would be dependent on her. Maybe the marriage would be rocky but as long as it produced an heir then everyone could walk away happy. And if the sounds that woke her said anything, it was that Mikasa could do that activity necessary for having children very well.

“Sulking on your own?”

The voice. The voice she hated with her entire being. Gritting her teeth around the cigarette butt, Kiyomi turned to see Eren coming to join her at the railing. Everything about him pissed her off. The way his hair was messy, tousled by someone’s fingers. The dark bruises that bloomed all over his neck. The scratches she could see, disappearing beneath his shirt. The half-cocky grin he wore, knowing very well why she can’t sleep.

“Felt like having a smoke.”, she growled, letting the irritation show in her voice, “Want one?”

Maybe getting him to smoke would kill Eren sooner. To her dismay he shook his head, declining the generous offer. Eyes traveling towards the Ackerman’s door, Kiyomi saw that it remained closed, Mikasa not coming out to join them.

“Where’s your “friend”, Yeager?”

“Sleeping. Exhausted, for some reason.”

Sure, some reason.

“And you came out here why?”

“Needed a breath of fresh air. She is very…  intense.”

Kiyomi’s lips curved into a frown.

“You are just rubbing it in at this point.”

He shrugged.

“You wanted to know.”

Letting the breath out of her lungs create a large puff of smoke, Kiyomi turned back towards the ocean and continued staring into the distance. Maybe ignoring him will make Eren go back. An assumption which proved to be wrong, as he spoke to her soon after.

“You never asked how I came back.”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”, more ash fell into the rolling waves, “Nothing but trouble for me.”

“That’s fair. I would say that I’m sorry for causing it to you, but… I’m not.”, she could hear the bliss in his voice, “Being alive is amazing.”

At least he wasn’t lying to her, Kiyomi could appreciate honesty.

“Figured as much.”

Eren’s resurrection didn’t interest Kiyomi in the slightest. She couldn’t care less how he managed to cheat death for the last time, it didn’t mean anything. The practical woman that she was, Kiyomi was only interested in how it impacted her own planning.

To be frank, it threw a giant wrench into it.

Yet there was something else she would like to ask, and there would probably not be a better time in the foreseeable future.

“Tell me, how can you be so calm when you know what Mikasa will do once we get to Hizuru?”

“What do you mean?”

“She is going to marry another man, have a child with him. That doesn’t bother you?”

“That’s the terms of the deal Mikasa made with you. This is her show now, I’m just tagging along on the ride.”

“Ha, that doesn’t sound like the Eren Yeager I know.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”, one of his eyebrows lifted, “My previous mindset got me killed, you can’t blame me for trying something new.”

“Still, going from full active to full passive is…”, she studied his face for a second, “Strange.”

“Maybe, but I need to stay hidden and Hizuru gives me that. A sanctuary.”

“Indeed, as much as it pains me, I have promised that to lady Mikasa.”

“You hate me, and you have every reason to.”, Eren’s voice remained passive as he spoke, not rising to answer Kiyomi’s obvious verbal attacks, “I’m not going to apologize for what I’ve done and I can’t take it back either.”

“Good, because your apology would mean nothing to me.”

This time he finally reacted, a chuckle leaving his mouth.

“I do wonder if we will ever get along.”

Kiyomi’s scowl was the only answer required.

“Don’t count on it.”

“As you say…”, pushing himself away from the railings, Eren did that half-mocking bow again, “Good night, lady Azumabito.”

When the door of Mikasa’s cabin closed behind him, Kiyomi threw the cigarette into the ocean, angrily staring after it. Damn him, damn him to hell.

The morning of their arrival’s day found Kiyomi lecturing Mikasa in her cabin, giving her a few last-minute tips. The girl was looking great, happy and elated even, making the old woman forget all about the pesky Yeager.

“We will be arriving in the port and from there we will have a parade through the city.”, Kiyomi began her instructions, “You requested it and I made sure that the public will be there to see you. May I ask why you wanted one in the first place?”

“I want to give the people something to look forward to, I feel like they deserve as much, especially after I made them wait this long.”

Thinking about the working class already – Mikasa had some good instincts in her.

“Very good. The parade will take you to the palace, where I will show you to your chambers and give you a chance to freshen up. Come evening, the ruling council will gather and we will meet them to discuss the wedding preparations. Also, you will meet your husband there. Sounds good?”

The Ackerman girl nodded, taking it all in.

“I believe that you will take good care of me. Of us.”

Of course, couldn’t forget that parasite. And the goat. Then again, Kiyomi had nothing against the goat, it was a rather well-behaved animal. Eren on the other hand….

“I’ll have “Aaron” put on a uniform and march with the soldiers. I doubt that anyone will notice him, and not like people will be looking at them – all eyes will be on you, lady Mikasa.”

“As long as we can reunite in the castle, I like your plan.”, a firm nod, very military-like, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They could hear the shouting of the crowd from afar, the water carrying the sound rather efficiently. Standing on the deck, Mikasa looked at the fast-approaching shore, seeing the masses that gathered there in her honor, stomach doing little flips.

“Hey.”, a hand closed around her fingers, “Relax, we will be okay.”

Eren was right there next to her, dressed in a Hizurian uniform, offering a smile in these trying times. She managed to mirror his smirk, despite the twisting of her guts.

“I know. We are together, so there is nothing that I can’t handle.”

The ship’s horn indicated that the shore was even closer now, and Eren left with a last fleeting kiss. Kiyomi took his place almost immediately, ready to accompany her on this perilous journey. As Mikasa studied the port, she noticed that it was very modern, even more than she thought it would be.

“The buildings,”, she said out loud, “look very recent. Did Hizuru rebuild the port?”

“We had to, this area was completely devastated during the rumbling.”

“Oh…”

“Most of the damage had been fixed, but there are still areas which are nothing but trampled ground.”, Kiyomi’s face was sour, “We don’t have the manpower to fix it completely, and lack of proper leadership does not help.”

“That’s why I’m here, no?”

That brought a smile to Kiyomi’s face.

“Yes indeed.”

With a last booming horn sound, the ship backed into the harbor and the gangplank was lowered. The soldiers fanned out first, Eren among them, joining the forces that were already hard at work, keeping the shouting crowd away. Horses were brought when Mikasa and Kiyomi touched the ground, but that was not all. A small group pushed its way towards the two of them, moving to the left and right in a protective formation. They were wearing masks, hiding their identity, but from the lack of alarm on Kiyomi’s part, Mikasa figured that they weren’t here to hurt them.

“Who are they?”, she whispered to the older woman.

“Oh, I should have told you. These are the Faceless.”, Kiyomi quickly supplied, “Personal guard of the Shogun and his family, elite soldiers that will die for you in a blink of an eye.”

“Do they ever take these masks off?”

“Only if it is requested by their charge, otherwise it is a great dishonor. Why?”

“Just curious…”

So a personal guard that was supposed to stay with her all the time and never take off a mask covering their face? Hmmm…

Mounting up in a swift and practiced movement, Mikasa waited until Kiyomi also managed to scramble up on her horse.

“You know, we could have used cars.”, she said, watching the older woman struggle.

“We could, but horses are more regal and also it reminds the people of where you came from.”

“I thought that my origin is a thing to be forgotten.”

“Not at all! Your past is what made you who you are, and it reminds us of the strength you possess. Managing to survive such a nightmare you were thrust into takes incredible skill and dedication.”

Unsure on how to reply to such praise, Mikasa directed her eyes towards the crowd instead. There were so many people here, cheering for her, and it made her heart race. Finally, Kiyomi managed to seat herself properly, clicking her tongue at the mount before addressing Mikasa.

“Shall we?”

The parade through the city was quite an experience. Mikasa had never waved so much in her life before, but here she was, doing her best to appear both dignified and cheerful as she returned the endless love of the people. It reminded her of the times when she and Eren watched Survey Corps return from their expeditions beyond the walls, albeit grander in scale.

The ruckus subsided when they left the port city behind, moving through the countryside towards the capital. There were next to no forests left, trampled beneath the titan’s feet, but the meadows and rice fields stretched to the left and right of the road, restored in the years following the rumbling. High and up, they rode for a few hours before the other city rose in front of them.

The capital was situated high, mostly in the mountains, and because of that a large part had escaped the destruction, Kiyomi said. There were people waiting for her, cheering as their group rode past, and Mikasa was once again forced to smile and wave like an idiot. Eren, hiding between the soldiers, had a time of his life watching her.

The palace was also much greater than anything that Mikasa saw in her life. It was more like a whole city, hidden behind additional walls, towering over the rest of the land. Untouched by the rumbling, it remained as grandiose as before, taking her breath away.

“I take it that you like your new house?”, Kiyomi purred from the right, “A step up from a cabin in the mountains, is it not?”

Mikasa wasn’t sure that she could agree with that statement but forced herself to nod either way.

Still in a bit of a haze from this all, Mikasa was led to luxurious chambers that felt out of this world, with Kiyomi saying that all this is hers now. It was crazy, considering that the most she ever owned was a tiny cabin. And the old woman was all smiles and nods until those dreaded words left Mikasa’s lips.

“Where’s Eren?”

“I… I’ll send for him.”

Both to give them a little privacy and because being in Yeager’s presence annoyed her, Kiyomi left soon after, saying that she will be back to escort Mikasa to the meeting with the ruling council. Finally reunited with her lover, the pair shared a hug before she pulled back.

“How’s Yams?”, she asked, curious about their animal companion.

“See?”, he grinned,  “I told you that you’d miss him.”

Mikasa playfully slapped Eren’s chest.

“Answer the question.”

“In the royal stables, loving it so far.”, he looked around, “Same as you it seems, this is quite the place.”

“Mhmm, not the same without you though.”

“I doubt that I can stay in your chambers without people gossiping.”

“That depends…”, she took a hold of Eren’s chin, making him look at her.

“Have you ever considered joining a royal guard?”

It was almost evening when Kiyomi came back, knocking before opening the door, flanked by two Faceless, to the Ackerman’s chambers. Mikasa was sitting at the table when Kiyomi came in, Eren was staring out of the window, and neither paid too much attention until she cleared her throat.

“We should get going to the meeting, lady Mikasa.”

“In a minute. First, we need to talk.”

A small crease formed between the old woman’s eyebrows.

“What about?”, she asked cautiously.

“I think that it would be better if you sit.”

“I think that I can decide that for myself.”

Coming closer, she leaned on the table. Eren also changed his position, standing behind Mikasa and putting his arms on her shoulders in some sort of protective gesture. Kiyomi didn’t like this – the closeness of the two, the air of mystery suddenly shrouding Mikasa’s words.

She didn’t like it one bit.

“If you have something to say,”, she forced her voice to remain level, “then speak.”

Exchanging a quick look with Eren, Mikasa put her hand over his before meeting Kiyomi’s gaze. And then she dropped a bomb that shook her to the core.

“The thing is, I do not plan to marry the Shogun.”

Her eyes, her grey eyes were burning into Kiyomi, and she felt her knees go weak. Her butt met the chair as she folded, doing so at the same time as Mikasa’s next words finding their way into her ears.

“I never did.”

[fckyeahdaisukekambe]

[ROUGH ENG TRANS] FUGOU KEIJI NOVEL: THE MILLIONAIRE DETECTIVE’S DECOY (Part 8)

ahhhhh at lasttttt~ we’re almost there! The Kambe sponsored party. anyway, sorry for the delay. i’m having really, really bad mental breakdowns nowadays like i’m always crying and sad. i have bpd for some years now and i think this isolation thingy makes things worst. anyway, look forward to Part 9 <3

so after the scene where Daisuke threw his cigar away, and grinned. "To find a good match.", i forgot to mark the scene where Daisuke already met the 4th suspect. sorry about that!

"No. I didn't notice it. I did something wrong." After saying that loudly, Daisuke also whispered to Sakamoto. "I don't bet money for something so careless. So apologies, I'll have some sake."

"Oh, sorry." Sakamoto slovenly grinned. "But this is a member-only club." 

Sakamoto rounded his eyes as he looked around the luxurious interior of the elegant and quiet club he came with Daisuke. "And the club has very strict rules when it comes to memberships." As expected of a bartender, Sakamoto slightly mumbled. "I'm in this kind of business too."

"How?" Daisuke asked with a face pretending not to know, while about to take a sip of brandy soda. "You also run something like this?"

"No, not something as fancy as this." Sakamoto cleared his throat, stared and immediately changed to an expression that looks like he's challenging Daisuke. "I'll definitely have a store like this one day. Ah. I'm sure of it." He took a gulp of brandy. "I'll also have a billiard table in my store. Like a foreign club." Sakamoto continued to speak as if it's already the alcohol that's being talkative. "At a billiard place, you can't just have a glass in one hand. The police are troublesome."

"There's a way to do it right now." Daisuke said. "You can just come to my house. There's a home bar inside our ball (billiard) room. You can make your favorite liquor and drink while playing games."

____________________________________

"It looks like Hatano's in your house." Detective Tsuruoka told Daisuke when he returned to the investigation headquarters. "Is he still obsessed with inventing new toys?"

"It seems like going well." Daisuke nodded. "The reason he comes up recently is he have a patent application."

"Hm," In his seat, Detective Kojima made a hateful note. "So what do you know? Just investing money to him invent is not enough for an investigation."

"Other than that," Daisuke said in a relaxed tone. "He seems to have fallen in love with my father's beautiful secretary."

"I can't help but understand that." Detective Nunobiki overtly sneered.

"I was invited to go to Hatano's house." Tsuruoka said. "I wonder if the paint can was still in his lab."

"I haven't seen it." Daisuke shook his head. "I'm sure he has already used it to paint his some inventions."

"Wasn't it used for the crime?" Tsuruoka rebuked. "Then, you're saying Hatano is not the culprit?" After hesitating a little, Daisuke nodded. "Yes."

"I think (Tsuruoka) Izuku-san's conclusion is better," said Captain Fukuyama.

"On the contrary. Kambe seems to think that Suda is not the culprit, either. " Nunobiki told Fukayama and asked Daisuke, "You took him last Sunday to your house. On the contrary, have you finally been liked by your Oden shop relatives?"

"Why do you think Suda isn't the culprit?" Captain Fukuyama frowned. "It seems a little early to judge."

"No,  not until the time we know who's the criminal." Daisuke rushed. "However, he seems to be a man with a strong sense of justice."

"Also, what did you found out?" Fukuyama looked at Daisuke like he's seeking for help.

"Oh, besides that, he apparently also like my father's secretary."

"Did he fell in love?" Kojima smiled. "That's trouble. What do you do to make the suspects fall in love with your father's secretary? Hayakawa seems to go to your home's clay shooting range often, but to think even Hayakawa will fall in love with her?"

"Hayakawa really hates losing, so I haven't said anything to him so far but he's showing that he seems to fall in love."

"What's wrong with that?" Fukuyama began to draw infinity symbols with his finger on the desk, even more frustrated. "Is there any way to get them spend money?"

"That's it for now." Daisuke scratched the his head. "There's only two months left." Fukuyama groaned.

Saruwatari is back. "I heard that Sakamoto caught a millionaire patron at his bar." he laughed. "I'm going to have Mr. Kambe give me some money and have my own store." Daisuke tilted his head in confusion."But he's just talking to me like he already has his own store."

"Erm. Having said that, that would be suspicious." Saruwatari is glancing at Fukuyama who deliberately stayed alone.

"Wouldn't it be an excuse to have your own store with the robbed 500 million yen?" Tsuruoka asked Daisuke a speculative question.

"Kambe-kun, The name of your father's secretary, uhm"

"It's Suzue. Hamada Suzue."

"So I wonder if Sakamoto is also in love with Suzue?"

"Ah. That man is also a womanizer. Anyone can see it in his eyes." Daisuke laughed. "Of course to Suzue-san. Especially since he thinks  she's a daughter of an upper class family. I think for him it's intriguing."

"Well," Tsuruoka turned to Daisuke after thinking again. "All four of them could use it to make Suzue-san fall in love. It's a way Cap said earlier to make them spend money."

"That's right,"  Daisuke striked his lap and stood up. "I have a good idea."

OK. EVERYONE FALLS FOR SUZUE! LOL. Part 9 by Sunday/Monday.

[goldeneyedgirl]

2020 Fic Meme

It happens every year like clockwork. The Fic Round-Up Meme. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to it this year because I’ve written so much. As usual, compiled from ancient Livejournal fic memes. I like doing it as kind of a time capsule of my writing. If anyone else wants to take a crack, feel free. I love reading writers’ throughs on their own work. <3 No tagging because that is PRESSURE. 

Twilight

12 Days of Fic-Mas (Twilight, WIP) Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 + Christmas Eve Twelve days of fic extracts, previews, and drabbles focusing on Alice Cullen and Jess/Jasper Hale: Anathema, the KidFic, Married in Vegas, Daemons, Memento Vivere, Human Alice Kills James, Jess and Alice do Prom, Forgotten, Vampires in Vegas, Shadow to Light Missing Scene, Hybrid, Cowboys and Angel Solstice, and All These Broken Things

Afterglow (Alice/Jasper, AU, Romance, G)  There were three things of which she was certain. The first was that her name was Alice. The second was that she was born an angel. And three, she was getting ready to die.

Against a Wall (Alice/Jasper, Human/Vampire AU, Romance, Angst, PG) If you asked anyone with the surname ‘Whitlock’, they’d tell you that the family was cursed. It was the Whitlock Curse to blame the day the bank took the ranch away from Jasper’s own father.      

And Found (Alice/Jasper, Soulmark AU, Romance, PG) The soul mark appears when Alice is six. It is a twisted ribbon of a mark, from the inside of her left elbow, up her arm, over her shoulder, along her clavicle, over her right shoulder and down to her right wrist. What ugly, soulless individual could inspire such a mark?

Jar of Hearts Pt 1 Pt 2 (WIP) (Alice, Emmett, Seth, MCU xover, Angst, PG) The snap came for everyone - “He said he’d never leave me,” she says in a wobbly voice. “He promised me.”“It wasn’t by choice,” Emmett rushes to tell her. “You were his last thought; he tried so hard to get home before he…”

Never a Question (Alice/Jasper, AU, Angst, G)  Carlisle is quite sure that he’s watching his son’s heart break into a million pieces as he stares at his human mate, slowly dying alone, not a single person allowed to hold her hand.

Hand in Hand (Alice/Jasper, AU, Fluff, G)  “Never,” he swears, pressing a kiss to her cheek that makes her beam -  “There’s not a single moment I can think of that cannot be improved by your presence, darlin’.”

Love & Duty (Alice/Jasper, AU, Romance, G)  A trainee witch is sent to treat a wounded cowboy from her brother coven. 

Shadow to Light (WIP) (Alice/Jasper, AU Angst, PG) In 1918, Jasper lures the newborn known as Mary-Alice back to Monterrey. He is lost to her before it even begins. (Ch 6-8)

The Way of Things (Alice/Jasper, AU, Drama, M)  She truly doesn’t know what comes next. He truly doesn’t know if it will be good or bad. They will live this life for as long as it lasts, long may it last, surrounded by the people they love and trust. 

What You Say (Alice/Jessamine, Canon, Angst, M)  Edward might have thought Aro was their reckoning, but Alice knows for her, it is Jessamine’s hurt.

Total number of completed stories: ELEVEN. 

Total word count: 90,155 words were formally posted - not including snippets, previews (aside from FicMas) or anything that was shared on the Discord server. 

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted? I fucking nailed it. Like, seriously. THREE chapters of Shadow to Light? Every single day of JaliceWeek AND FicMas? I mean, I think the lockdown definitely helped with free time, and not going to lie, the iOS shutdown of Fortnite probably assisted my productivity. 

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? The Discord has so much to answer for. I wrote porn. Like, what. What. What. What. I find this bizarre and did not have ‘let’s just go full NC17 in 2020′ on my bingo card, but it happened. In fact, 2019 Lexie has just gone full spit-take and yelled, “WHAT?!” at the top of her lungs. 

And to make it more surprising, it’s both het and f/f porn. Like, mind-blown. Who am I anymore?

What’s your own favourite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest? The Way of Things, What You Say, And Found, & Afterglow. All fics that came together really well, that felt like *me*, and had hopeful endings. I’m really proud of them. 

STL doesn’t get an opportunity to be apart of this til it’s finished. 

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? The porn. 

Apparently, I can write it. Who knew? 

I definitely threw caution to the wind with JaliceWeek and just went for whatever crossed my mind and stopped worrying so much. Like, whatever, this is what I want to write so I will. I mean, the MCU crossover is happening in a slightly more obscure way than I initially envisaged it, it’s definitely a better fic for it.

I joined the Discord, and that’s been amazing. I’ve spent my last few fandoms existing in kind of a vacuum because of bad experiences and the fact I’m usually doing something niche, so having people to talk to who are so nice and welcoming and are happy to ignore my special brand of obnoxiousness is so lovely and has had such a good affect on my mental health. Sometimes you need people you can be your dorkiest self with. 

My instincts are pretty good as far as fic goes, people are awesome, and I can write sex scenes. It’s been a learning curve, let me tell you that. 

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?  I have to balance grad school, my business, and my writing, so that’s going to be interesting. I think I need to look at my fic more as downtime than a high-stress ‘job’ because I LOVE writing it. I love writing. I love reading. But I get in my own head and overthink. So my goals are BALANCE and RELAX. 

My best story of this year: Oh man, that’s not something I can judge. I am so incredibly proud of how Afterglow, And Found, and The Way of Things turned out. Especially considering I was so behind with JaliceWeek, and I think I was putting out a fic a day, and freaking out because I was lacking ideas, so when these three just came together exactly how I wanted them, it was a good moment. 

My most popular story: Shadow to Light. Look, if that’s my legacy to fandom, I’ve done pretty damn well. I’m really, really appreciative of how enthusiastic people are about this ‘verse. I don’t always understand it, because I can see how my writing has changed and how the story has evolved massively (first it was supposed to be a one-shot, then five chapters.) I hope that it ends up being satisfying for everyone because I have LOVED writing it, even if I am slower than molasses. 

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Everyone is always so damn enthusiastic about my writing. I think maybe Hybrid is kind of a big question mark for everyone at the moment because there are so many questions and no answers yet. 

And any of the Jessamine/Alice. That’s a new niche, I get not everyone is into it. But it’s happening and will continue into 2020.

Most fun story to write:  What You Say or Jess and Alice at Prom. Jess is a little snarkier than Jasper, less controlled, and the girls are super fun to write, even high-tension scenes. 

Most Sexy Story: Oh, I can answer this now! Um, maybe The Way of Things or Jess and Alice at Prom? Yup, those are my picks. 

Story with the single sexiest moment:  The Way of Things. This happened before the Discord Intervention, and I’m genuinely not sure if I’m happy with the end of the Prom fic, so it might be reworked slightly in the future. But The Way of Things I was really happy with because it covered so many ideas I had in a way that fit together well. 

That’s where she makes good on her unspoken promises from aeons again, of their private victory celebration. She sits astride him, her hips rolling hard against his, drawing out his groans and growls as he grips her thighs almost tight enough to crack. Their gazes are locked the entire time, her tongue skimming over her lips, as she lets her emotions tell him everything that she wants and everything she plans to take.

He remembers fucking her in the dirt in Dacia; his mouth between her legs as she hollered obscenities in a Paris attic; and the urgent, passionate loving-making of a marriage finally consummated.

She remembers bloody emeralds looped around her throat and resting between her breasts as she gets down on her knees and takes him into her mouth, his fingers tangled in her hair; the delicious weight of him on top of her, their sweat mingling and cooling in the frozen night as their flimsy bed creaked against the wall; and his soft encouragement in her ear as he grasps her around the waist, their hands resting together on the gentle swell of her stomach. 

Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story: I think I restrained myself from anything too dark or twisted this year, actually. Oh, wait, Vampires in Vegas. That one has some pretty dark implications about Alice’s life, about the vampire underworld, and Jasper’s behaviour, especially as it goes one. No fic that deals with someone being put into sex work without educated consent is going to avoid being dark, and I think it’s logical that vampires would have their hands in a lot of illegal yet profitable areas. 

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: Anything with Jessamine/Alice because, like, Jess isn’t a name-swap of Jasper, and the relationship dynamic shifts with the slight personality shifts. And then you have to consider the family and social dynamic of two women in the relationship, so working all that out was fun. 

Jar of Hearts is another one, because I had to work out who the fic was going to follow and what was lost. And Emmett and Alice pretty much don’t interact in canon, but they were chosen for a reason. I’ve stripped them down to their worst, most isolated selves without their ‘true north’ (Rose and Jasper) or their moral center (Carlisle and Esme), or even their secret weapon (Edward). Seth, too, has been isolated from his family and friends, and is especially ‘other’ in this situation. This is an MCU crossover, so we’re kind of following a heroes’ journey with the last of Forks’ supernatural creatures.

Hardest story to write: Shadow to Light because of the way I have to use language, because of the plot strands from canon when I hate writing canon material, and how the characters have changed and how this new version reflects the old version. 

Against a Wall, as well, because of the in-verse time crunch I had - I needed Jasper damaged, military-minded, and changed by age 19. And I needed the boy broken. I’m happy with it, the story is done and dusted, but it didn’t quite turn out how I planned. And that’s okay, because I like this version. But I think I tackled something a lot bigger than I anticipated with it. 

Most disappointing:  Look, I love the verse and the set-up, but I think Love & Duty could do with another 2k words for build-up. I just ran out of time, honestly, to build up that mutual attraction between Alice and Jasper. 

Easiest story to write: Anathema, because Alice’s voice was so clear in it. Anathema!Alice knows exactly who she is, and that’s always fun. And the Shadow to Light Missing Scene; it wasn’t as long as I hoped, but it turned out exactly as I imagined it happening. 

Biggest surprise:  Everyone really, really liked Forgotten. And Vampires in Vegas, which I honestly thought were the weakest offerings during FicMas. 

Most unintentionally telling story:  The Way of Things. There’s so little dialogue, and it’s covering such a massive amount of time and story that it’s intentionally written to tell. 

Story I’d like to revise: Love & Duty, and Married in Vegas. A little polish, a little shine, it’s fine. For Love & Duty, it’s definitely the time crunch I need to go back and fix; for Married in Vegas, it’s just reflective of how long ago I started it. I’m a better writer, I know the characters more, and I’m less prone to overly dramatic plot twists. 

Story I didn’t write but will at some point, I swear: Look, let me lay the groundwork now so that no one who isn’t on the Discord isn’t startled. 

There’s going to be a Jess/Jasper/Alice threesome fic, and I regret nothing. 

I really, really want to get All These Broken Things redone and posted because it’s getting silly how long it’s just been sitting there. 

I want to actually write Monster, which is a fic I don’t talk about much but I want to write. It’s a question about who the monster of the story is, and I’m not sure I’m as skilled as I should be, to write it, but I want to try. 

And one of my numerous attempts at a Haunted House Cryptid fic. It has to happen, I have so many ideas!

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 7

So I REALLY wanted to get this posted yesterday for Hangman’s birthday... but I had a hell of a time figuring out how to end it, so I didn’t make it. BUT. I’m very happy with it. And it’s LONG. I actually got a little hot and bothered writing part of this... so I think y’all will like it, too XD. Lots of fluff and drama. 

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 7/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC and Adam Page x OFC

Warnings: Cursing and some sexual language

Word Count: 4k

Catch up on previous parts here.

Alex awoke early the next morning. She tried to turn over and fall back asleep, but her brain wouldn’t let her. She couldn’t stop thinking about Kenny.

He’d held her hand the entire drive back to the hotel last night. She remembered him kissing her knuckles and butterflies exploding in her stomach. He’d walked her back to her room, and she’d reached up and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. She’d wanted so badly to kiss him, but she hadn’t. He’d held her close and was reluctant to let her go. He’d been the last thing on her mind as she’d fallen asleep, and now he was the first thing on her mind this morning. That had to mean something.

She looked at the clock. It was 8:17 a.m. Kenny was undoubtedly awake; he never slept in. She crawled out of bed and moved quietly into the bathroom, doing her best not to wake Chuck as he slept in the other bed. She brushed her teeth, cleaned up her smudged makeup that she’d neglected to remove the night before, and tamed her bed-head. And then she slipped out the door, still her pajama shorts and t-shirt.

Kenny was on the same floor; he’d told her his room number last night. She arrived at his door, and she took a deep breath and knocked.

It wasn’t too long before he answered. He smiled when he saw her. “Hey. I was just thinking about texting you, but I didn’t want to wa—”

She cut him off with a kiss. It surprised him at first—but then he wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer. “Well good morning to you, too,” he smiled against her lips.

She flushed as she pulled away. “You said if I still felt this way tomorrow that we could talk. Well, it’s tomorrow, and I’m sober, and I still feel this way. So here I am.”

She fidgeted as she spoke, suddenly self-conscious. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if she’d just made a huge idiot of herself? Maybe she should just go.

But then a grin broke out over Kenny’s face. “Come here,” he said, and he kissed her as he pulled her into the room, letting the door fall closed behind her.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next day, Alex laid on the couch in her den, watching TV but not really paying attention. Her thoughts were everywhere—good, bad, anxious, excited. And every single one of them was about Kenny.

They hadn’t talked yesterday morning. At least, not with any words, they hadn’t. They’d let their bodies do the talking. They hadn’t been able to undress each other fast enough as they’d blindly stumbled to the bed, getting lost in each other’s touch. Alex had dug her fingernails into Kenny’s skin, not caring how loud she was; he’d felt even better than she remembered. And when they were done, they’d gotten in the shower and done it again. It had been awkward as fuck going back to her and Chuck’s room with wet hair and that telltale flushed-with-sex glow. Thankfully, he’d spared her the embarrassment of asking any questions or making any comments. It was obvious what had happened.

But, after that, she and Kenny had basically gone their separate ways. They’d considered riding to the airport together but decided against it; Kenny was already going with the Bucks and Alex with Trent, Chuck, and James, and they both agreed it would be better not to draw any attention to themselves until they figured things out. But now that Alex was back home, all alone with her ruminations, she was starting to freak out about what exactly that meant.

She snatched her phone from the coffee table. She needed to talk to someone—and Adam was the only person she could go to with this. She typed up a text—Hey, can I call you?—and hit send before she could think better of it. It was less than a minute before he responded.

Yeah, give me a minute and I’ll call you.

She bit her lip, nervously waiting. When he called a couple minutes later, it was a FaceTime call. She hadn’t expected that; but she answered anyway. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he echoed. He had his hair pulled back and his glasses on. She’d seen him like that a million times before, but it still caught her off-guard. “What’s up? Is everything alright?”

“Is Callie around?” The question came flying out of her mouth without warning, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment at the strange look Adam gave her. But she needed to know. She didn’t want to risk Callie hearing any of what she was about to say.

“No; she went out for a run,” he answered. “What’s going on, Alex?”

She looked off into the distance, unsure how to begin. As much as she didn’t want to, it would probably be best to just spit it out—like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I slept with Kenny yesterday.”

Adam’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “Well that’s definitely not what I was expecting you to say.”

“I know.” Her cheeks flushed again as she brought a hand to her face. “Please don’t judge me.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I’m just… surprised. Did you leave the party with him?”

“No,” she answered with a shake of her head. “Well—actually yeah, I did. But not like that. He gave me a ride back to the hotel, but I slept in my room. But then the next morning I went up to his room and… yeah.” She didn’t say any more after that. He could fill in the blanks well enough on his own.

“So…” he trailed off, clearly trying to get his thoughts together. “Was it just a spur-of-the-moment hookup, or…?”

Alex let out an anxious huff. This was the part she’d wanted to talk to him about. Because, honestly, she had no idea. “I don’t know. I mean yeah, I ran up to his room and jumped his bones without really thinking. But before we left the arena Thursday night… he practically admitted that he still has feelings for me. But we haven’t talked about it. We didn’t really have a chance.”

She frowned. In truth, she and Kenny hadn’t said much of anything at all to each other since she’d left his room yesterday morning. She’d texted him to let him know that she’d made it home, and he’d responded in kind—but that was about it. She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling about everything, and that didn’t sit well with her. At all.

“Well, do you still have feelings for him?”

Adam’s question cut through her thoughts like a knife. But, unfortunately, she didn’t have an answer for him. “I don’t know,” she admitted. It made him frown.

“Well then I don’t know what to tell you, Alex. You and Kenny need to sit down and figure things out.” He paused. And then he added, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Alex faltered when he said that. No one knew more about what she’d gone through with Kenny than Adam; he’d been the shoulder she’d cried on throughout the whole ordeal. And now here she was a year later, crying to him about Kenny all over again. He was probably sick of it. It had probably been a mistake to burden him with it again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you with this,” she abruptly said. “I need to figure out my shit on my own.”

His brow furrowed. “What? Alex, you’re not bothering me with it. You can talk to me about anything—you know that.”

“I know I can,” she breathed. “But you and Kenny are the tag team champions and you just started getting along again, so the last thing I want to do is put you the middle between us. Plus, there’s the match with Callie in a few days and with everyone being at ringside… it’s just a giant fucking mess.” She let out a frustrated huff. She could only imagine how pathetic she looked. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately and now with Kenny… it’s just a bit much.”

“So try not to think about it,” he said.

She gave him a flat look. “Really, Adam. Do you know me?”

He smirked. “Yeah, I do know you. But seriously. Kenny made you an option last time, so don’t give him your time or energy if he’s not gonna give you his. You deserve better than that.”

Alex bit her lip again. She knew Adam was right. But it was easier said than done. “I’ll try.”

“You better,” he returned, and she offered him a smile.

“Well, I’ll let you go,” she said. “And I doubt I have to ask, but please don’t mention any of this to Callie. I don’t want to give her any more reason to think Kenny’s gonna sabotage her on Wednesday.”

“Come on, of course I won’t mention it,” he assured. “I’ll see you at Dynamite.”

“Yeah, see you then,” she said, and she ended the call—trying, and failing, not to think about Kenny.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was the night of Alex’s hotly anticipated match against Callie. And as Alex laced up her boots in the Best Friends’ locker room, she felt like she might hurl.

“You alright, Alex?” James suddenly asked. “You look pale. I mean, more so than usual.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. I’m just nervous—more so than usual.”

That was the honest-to-goodness truth. Alex always got nervous before her matches; the good sort of nervous, fueled by excitement and adrenaline. But this wasn’t the good sort of nervous. This was the jittery kind of nervous, the kind fueled by anxiety and fear. She had no idea what was going to happen out there, with Callie or Kenny. And honestly—she was worried to find out.

But James waved her off. “Don’t be,” he reassured her. “Just keep a level head and you’ll already have Callie beat. Plus, Chuck and Trent will be out there to put a stop to any shenanigans.”

Alex glanced at Chuck and Trent across the room. Chuck didn’t say anything; but Trent cut her a look. “Kenny, too,” he lowly added.

She frowned and went back to lacing up her boots. Ever since Friday, Trent had been downright cold to her and Chuck had been distant. Alex wasn’t an idiot—she had a feeling she knew why they were acting that way. But she really didn’t want to open that can of worms right now.

Her phone suddenly chirped from where it sat next to her on the bench. It was a text. From Kenny. She bit her lip as she opened it. Hey. Come meet me in production.

That was all it said. It made her nervous all over again. But she’d waited five long days to see him again, so she finished lacing up her boots as quickly as she could and hurried out the door without a word.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she made her way through the halls. She walked faster the closer she got, and when she walked into production and saw Kenny, she exploded with nervousness. The good kind.

He smiled when he saw her. “Hey. Wow—is that new gear?”

She bit her lip as he looked her over. “Yeah. Does it look okay?”

He shook his head. “Don’t ask stupid questions. You look unbelievable,” he returned, and he pulled her into a kiss. Alex wrapped her arms around his neck as he led her back further into the room, behind the monitors. They were alone—but they could use some extra privacy.

Kenny nipped at her bottom lip as he pulled away. It was torture. “I missed you,” he breathed.

She smiled up at him. “I missed you, too.”

“Yeah? That’s good to know,” he smirked. “I wanted to see you as soon as I could. We never did have that talk I promised.”

Alex unwound her arms from his neck as she looked sheepishly down at the floor. “No, we didn’t.”

Just like he had the night of the party, Kenny reached up and brushed her hair away from her face. She looked back up at him. His voice came out soft and sincere as he spoke. “I’m sorry I haven’t said much since Friday. But everything I could think to say to you felt better said in person.”

Alex’s breath caught in her throat. She had absolutely no idea what he was about to say, but he had her complete undivided attention.

“I don’t want this to be like the last time,” he said. “I don’t want you to have any questions or doubts about how I feel or what I want. I want you, Alex. I want to be with you. And I want you to be with me. I want to do this right.”

Butterflies burst in Alex’s stomach, overwhelming her. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been that. She didn’t know what to say.

“But you don’t need to give me an answer right now,” he assured her. “I understand if you need some time to think about it, and we can take things as slow as you want… if you even want to take them with me at all.”

 Alex didn’t say anything. Instead, she pulled his lips against hers. Kenny eagerly returned the kiss, holding her as close as he could, tangling his hand in her hair. They didn’t break apart until they needed to breathe.

“I don’t need time to think about it,” she said. “But I do think slow is good. Especially with the match tonight.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I thought about that. If you want to lay low for tonight, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

“It’s probably for the best,” she pouted. But Kenny tilted her face toward his and kissed her again.

“It is,” he agreed. “I’ll be as neutral as I can be out there tonight. Deal?”

She beamed up at him. “Deal.”

“Good,” he said, and she closed her eyes as he kissed her gently on the forehead. Tonight, this would be their little secret—and that was just fine with her.

“Alright, you should go get ready,” Kenny suggested. “You two are up first.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Now you tell me?” She turned and started to run out of the room; but Kenny grabbed her and pulled her back.

“Hey—even though I’ll be out there in Callie’s corner, I’ll be rooting for you.”

She bit back a smirk as she pointed a finger at him. “Neutral, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned. He smacked her butt and nodded toward the door. “Go. I’ll see you out there,” he said; and as Alex went out the door, she suddenly felt ready to take on anything.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie stood in the center of the ring, glaring at the top of the entrance ramp. Under normal circumstances, she would have taken her time posing for the camera and jawing at the people at ringside. But not tonight. Tonight, all she cared about was getting her hands on Alex.

Callie’s entrance music faded out, and for a few seconds the arena was filled with nothing but anticipatory silence. But then Alex’s music hit, and the small crowd immediately cheered as loudly as they could. Callie rolled her eyes; she couldn’t wait to shut them all up when she beat Alex within the five minutes.

Dasha smiled as she announced Alex’s entrance. “And her opponent; from Roanoke, Virginia; being accompanied to the ring by Trent Berretta and Chuck Taylor—Alex Haaaawwwwwthoooooorrrne!

Alex didn’t waste any time. She charged out of the babyface tunnel and made a beeline for Callie in the ring, Chuck and Trent hot on her heels. Aubrey intercepted her as she climbed through the ropes.

“Alex, back it up!” she warned.

But Alex wasn’t having any of it. “Ring the damn bell! I’ve been waiting to make this bitch tap for a week.”

Callie’s eyes darkened. “You’re gonna be waiting a hell of a lot longer, then,” she bit.

Alex tried to get at her, but Chuck and Trent held her back. The flurry of activity prompted Kenny and Adam to climb in through the ropes from where they’d stood at ringside.

“Alright, everyone just relax,” Kenny said as he put his arm in between them. But Callie smacked it away.

“Cut the bullshit, Kenny; no one’s buying it.”

Kenny bit down on his jaw as he sent Alex a sideways glance. But he raised his hands and stepped back.

Somehow, Aubrey managed to gain order. Chuck, Trent, Kenny, and Adam climbed out of the ring while Alex and Callie went to their separate corners. The bell rang, and they charged.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex was a technician; Callie was a brawler. And, for the majority of the match, neither of them had really been able to gain the upper hand over the other. But, at the moment, Callie was in control.

Alex laid prone on the mat, trying to catch her breath after Callie had tried to pin her again. But she didn’t get much of a break. “What was it you were saying, Alex?” Callie grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her up onto her knees. “You’ve been waiting to make me tap for a week? Please. Like I said—"

Smack! Alex abruptly cut her off with a resounding slap right across her cheek. Callie’s downfall was that she talked too much shit.

Callie slowly turned her face to look back at her. There was murder in her eyes. “Did you really just slap—”

Alex grabbed her and abruptly pulled her down into a small package pin. Aubrey slid to the mat and started counting—but Callie kicked out at two.

“Come on!” Chuck banged on the ring apron. “Stay on her, Alex!”

Callie crawled on her hands and knees to the ropes while Alex got to her feet, waiting. When Callie turned around, Alex charged and hit her with a running knee so hard that she fell backward through the ropes and out onto the mats below.

Kenny bit back a smirk, just a little bit proud of her.

Alex jumped down onto the floor. She grabbed Callie by the hair and pulled her to her feet. There was blood in her mouth. “Aw, it looks like I busted your mouth, Cal.” She pouted. “Don’t worry—we’ll get Britt to look at it later.” And she swung her around and tossed her back-first into the guard railing.

“Come on, bring it back in the ring, Alex!” Aubrey ordered. But she didn’t listen. She picked Callie up by the hair again and drove her face-first into the ring post.

Adam got involved at that point. “Alex, come on,” he implored. “What’re you doing?”

She cut her eyes at him but didn’t say anything in return. Right now, she couldn’t care less about his feelings—and she didn’t want to say anything she’d regret.

She stomped on Callie’s back before picking her up and rolling her back into the ring. As much as she’d like to beat up on her some more, it wasn’t a falls count anywhere match. She rolled in after her and hooked her leg in a pin. But Callie kicked out at two.

Alex sat up, frustrated. There was one way to end this. She pulled Callie up onto her knees, bent her backward, and locked in her submission finisher: the ’88 Sleeper.

Callie let out a muffled cry of pain. Chuck and Trent cheered while Kenny and Adam watched with bated breath. Alex wrenched harder, expecting her to tap any second; but Callie was a cagey bitch. Somehow, she managed to blindly reach up and rake Alex hard across the eyes.

“Ah!” Alex let her go and fell back onto the mat, blinded. The next thing she knew, Callie had her down in a pin. She kicked out at the last second.

“Come on, ref!” Trent argued. “You’re gonna let her get away with that?”

“How about you shut up over there?” Adam returned. It didn’t go over well with Chuck.

“Oh, are you mad, Hangman?” Chuck taunted. “Did ya just realize that cheating is the only possible way your girlfriend could beat Alex?”

Adam’s brow lowered. He stalked around the ring toward Chuck. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” Chuck returned. “Alex is better than Callie, and you know it.”

Adam took another step forward. Kenny put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, just ignore him,” he said—but Trent rolled his eyes.

“Oh, shut up, Kenny. If there’s one thing Callie is right about is that no one’s buying your bullshit.”

Kenny looked back at him, confused; but, all of a sudden, Callie slid underneath the bottom rope and hit Chuck with a hard baseball slide, sending him flying into the guard railing.

Trent took a threatening step toward her as she landed outside the ring. “Are you kidding me?”

“Hey, back the hell up.” Adam shoved him—and then all hell broke loose.

Trent threw a forearm and he and Adam started brawling. Back inside the ring, Alex got her bearings; once she realized what was going on, she jumped through the ropes to the floor. She started to help Kenny break Trent and Adam apart; but then Chuck jumped up and went after Kenny. Alex froze, unsure what to do—and then Callie grabbed her, whirled her around, and hit her hard across the jaw.

Alex stumbled back; but then she looked up and speared Callie to the ground. She struck out with a flurry of fists and forearms, and it was all Callie could do to try to block her. But then someone forcefully pulled Alex away and tossed her to the floor. She looked up. Her eyes widened in shock. It was Adam.

“That’s it—ring the bell!” Aubrey ordered. She hurried over to Dasha and told her the result. Dasha nodded as she brought the microphone to her mouth.

“And your winner by disqualification—Alex Hawwwwthoooorne!”

“WHAT?” Callie shouted. She glared up at Aubrey. “You’re gonna DQ me because he pushed her? I’m bleeding because of her!”

“He did a little more than just push her,” Kenny glared. He helped Alex up. “Are you alright?” he asked; but she didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on Adam.

“What the fuck?”

Adam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry—” he started; but Callie cut him off.

“Don’t apologize to her! You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Are you kidding me?” Chuck argued. “He fucking threw her!”

Adam rolled his eyes. “I didn’t throw her.”

“Yeah, you kinda did,” Kenny returned. Everyone stopped and stared at him. Adam’s brow lowered.

“Whose side are you on, Kenny?”

Kenny bit down on his jaw. Alex froze, worried what he would say—but then Callie scoffed.

“Please, do you really need to ask?” she shot.

Kenny started to answer; but Alex cut him off. “Why don’t you worry less about Kenny and more about the fact that your boyfriend just cost you the match?”

Callie glared daggers at her but said nothing in return. There wasn’t anything she could say.

Alex shook her head and turned to leave. But, before she did, she sent Adam a look over her shoulder. “Thanks for getting me the W, cowboy,” she said, and she walked around the ring and up the ramp.

Trent smirked at Adam and Kenny. The dissension between the tag team champions was obvious—and that was just fine with him. “Don’t forget about Fyter Fest,” he warned, and he and Chuck turned and followed after Alex.

Kenny watched them go—and then he looked back at Adam. “Question me all you want, but this one’s on you,” he said, and he turned and walked up the ramp.