#also fair warning i know a lot about MMA but not a lot about boxing

[thinksideways]

27 or 28 for the writing prompt please :)?

27. — boxes

“We got you a fight,” Van Ness says, slapping the contract down in front of Burr, “new guy. Unbeaten as an amateur. Don’t know much about him, trying to find his videos online. You’ll be his debut.”

“They’re giving me an amateur?” Burr tries not to sound sullen, but he thought after his last fight - a one-punch KO in the second round - he’d get somebody with a bit of name recognition. Not some - he glances at the contract - Alexander Hamilton, whose amateur record was admittedly impressive, but who had yet to come into the big leagues.

Whatever. A paycheck’s a paycheck. Burr’s still got the title shot in his sights, and if he has to tear through some amateur on his way, so be it.

*

They find a few videos of Hamilton’s fights, and Burr scrutinizes them carefully. The kid’s got decent footwork, switching stances constantly, good about using his angles. But he opens up quick, exploding all his energy in the first flurries. He has a good number of knockouts, but in the fights where he goes the distance, Burr can tell he gasses, hands dropping, going flat-footed instead of balancing light on the balls of his feet.

He can work with that.

Burr redoubles his cardio, running, biking, throwing himself into whatever hellish workout Van Ness concocts.

He spars, too, finding guys in the gym whose style mimics Hamiltons’.  Circling in the ring, gloved hands up, he imagines it’s Hamilton across from him, trying to predict what he might do, anticipating it.

He wins more of the sparring rounds then he loses, and as the fight draws closer, Burr feels confident.

*

He arrives in Vegas several days before the fight, ready for the pre-card circus, media and open workouts. Not that Burr’s the main fight - he and Hamilton are on the undercard, not even close to the main event - but it’s still a big card, a huge main event, and Burr’s excited to be on it. It’s a good opportunity, and he’s riding a five-fight win streak (over less than stellar opposition, but still, a streak’s a streak), and he thinks, with a flashy enough finish, he might have a case for a title contender fight, if not the title fight itself.

*

Burr’s returning from his last workout - light, more to keep his muscles warm than anything else - when he sees a man across the hall. Latino, with longer hair that’s pulled back in a ponytail. His back’s to Burr, which gives Burr a great view of the man’s ass, shown off to the fullest extent in his workout shorts, and then the man turns and Burr almost curses out loud.

He’d been checking out Hamilton.

His hair’s longer than it had been in the videos, which is why Burr hadn’t recognized him immediately, but the features are the same. Fuck.

Burr looks away, embarrassed, as if Hamilton could somehow read his mind. He walks away as quick as he can, and pretends he doesn’t hear someone calling after him.

*

Burr doesn’t seen Hamilton again until weigh-ins. Hamilton weighs in first, and though Burr’s backstage and can’t see it, he hears the cheers and applause that suggest Hamilton made weight.

Burr’s name is called, and he walks out to his own cheers, quickly strips down to his shorts - not risking keeping anything on that might put him over the weight limit. He steps onto the scale, hears the number read out - 155 on the dot - and steps off to his own round of applause. He looks across the stage and sees Hamilton waiting for the face off.

Burr usually keeps his face offs professional, never feeling any real malice for his opponents - it’s just business - but that’s gotten him nowhere, so he strides up to Hamilton, forehead against his, hands raised.

Hamilton doesn’t miss a beat, presses back into him, and talks, low enough that only Burr can hear.

“So you’re the big bad Aaron Burr huh? Don’t look like much to me…”

“Glad they gave me some pansy-ass amateur,” Burr responds in the same low tone, and then he feels Washington’s arm at his chest, keeping them separate, and he finally looks at Hamilton. His hair’s pulled back, and he’s shirtless, and Burr can’t keep his eyes from going to Hamilton’s chest, his abs, every muscle pulled in taut definition from his weight cut.  

Burr swallows the decidedly out of place desire, locks eyes with Hamilton, a final challenge, and absolutely does not think about how stunning his eyes are.

*

Burr re-hydrates, enjoying his first proper meal in weeks (weight cutting’s what he likes least about the sport - punch him in the face any day, just don’t take away the carbs). He lays back on the hotel bed, visualizing the fight for the hundredth time.

It takes him a long time to fall asleep, and when he finally does the sleep is fitful. It always is, the night before a fight. Before walking into the lion’s den.

*

Burr walks out to applause that sounds thunderous. He doesn’t know what the gate for this event was, but the crowd’s easily in the thousands, probably the biggest crowd he’s ever fought in front of. He shakes his arms, trying to stay loose. His hands are tightly wrapped inside his boxing gloves. He stops in front of Van Ness, who pops his mouth guard in, undergoes the final check of his gloves, and then enters the spotlit ring.

His world narrows down to the ring, the noise of the crowd fading out, all his focus on Hamilton as he enters the ring.

It’s just business, but for now, as the referee steps out and the announcer begins, Hamilton’s his enemy. One more mountain to climb.

They step closer to one another. The ref speaks into the microphone the announcer holds out.

“All right guys, have a safe fight, and protect yourselves at all times. Touch gloves if you want.”

To Burr’s surprise, Hamilton extends his gloved fists. Burr taps them lightly. Hamilton gives a little nod, and Burr nods back, glad his antics at the weigh-ins didn’t sour this face off.

The bell rings.

*

Hamilton starts fast, like Burr had expected, throwing several punches in quick succession. Burr dodges several, though one glances off his chin, not full power, but he feels stupid for being caught like that. He fires off his own series of punches, feinting high then dropping his body, catching Hamilton in the stomach with a hard blow. Hamilton doubles over for a moment, then straightens, moves.

Burr continues his strikes to the body - that had been part of the game plan, wear him down his body shots early, which would pay dividends later one as the fight progressed and the shots made themselves known.

His focus lets up for a second, and Hamilton catches him with a hard right hook, rocking Burr’s head back. He hisses through his teeth, low, straightens, drives in with an uppercut that catches flush on Hamilton’s jaw. The crowd screams its encouragement, savage, and Hamilton falls, almost in slow motion.

He gets back up though, almost immediately, dives back in, and the men clinch up, driving into on another with short, inefficient strikes.This close, and he can hear Hamilton’s heavy breathing, which he takes as encouragement, Hamilton’s bruised body having increasing difficulty taking in air.

He drops Hamilton twice more, but each time he gets up. Hamilton’s movements slow, become more obvious, sloppy as he gasses, and Burr picks him apart.

He lands several shots that should have finished him, one knocking Hamilton back against the ring, and Hamilton’s head lifts, eyes meeting Burrs’, and he sees only determination as the other man pushes off the ropes and charges again.

*

He doesn’t finish Hamilton, which is disappointing, but he picks him apart in the final rounds, and when the final bell rings he throws his hands up in victory before it’s officially announced.

The scorecards reflect it, and Burr walks away with another W on his record, having handed Hamilton his first loss. After the announcement, Hamilton shakes his hand, graceful in defeat.

“Congratulations,” Hamilton says.

“Thanks,” Burr replies.

*

He watches the rest of the card, goes out to dinner, after, face already starting to swell. He’ll hurt for the next few days - Hamilton had landed some decent shots - but he’ll be back in training soon enough. He’d seen Washington after the fight, and he had teased a title elimination belt with Jefferson. Big things on the horizon.

He’s tired and when he finally makes it back to his hotel room he’s surprised to see someone waiting outside it.

He’s more surprised when the figure comes into view, and it’s Alexander Hamilton, one eye blackened and already swelling, hair still in the braids he’d worn for the fight.

“Can I help you?” he says, confused. Hamilton’s dresses in a t-shirt and jeans, and he looks good, despite the black eye.

“I want a rematch,” Hamilton says.

“Talk to Washington, not me.”

“Already did. He said no.”

“There you go.”

“Look, Alex, no offense, but I’m gunning for the title, not to beat up on amateurs.”

“Then train me.”

“What?”

“Let me come by the gym. Get some pointers. You could clearly teach me a thing or two.”

Hamilton’s looking at him now, and it makes Burr uneasy. The look is knowing, and far too intimate for two strangers.

“We’ll see.”

“Give me your number, at least.”

Burr sighs.

“Fine.”

They exchange numbers (well, he gives Hamilton his, and Hamilton immediately texts him), and Hamilton departs, leaving Burr to lay starfished on the too-big hotel bed, smelling like Biofreeze and Tiger Balm, trying to process the day.

*

He flies home the next day, takes several days to recover, and then is back in the gym, business as usual. Except - except, well, he finds himself still watching Hamilton’s fights. He finds the video of their weigh-in online, freezes it at the moment when he charged forward. The freeze-framed image is Hamilton, eyes intense and gleaming. And those fucking abs.

Maybe he screenshots it. Maybe.

*

He finds Hamilton’s Facebook fan page, where there’s some really…flattering promotional pictures. Burr likes the page but not the pictures. He doesn’t want to be creepy.

He gets a text all of fifteen minutes later.

I see you liked my page.

He gets another notification - Hamilton just liked his page, too. And a photo. And another photo. Another.

I see you liked mine, too.

You’re pretty talented. There’s a lot to like.

Burr stares at that text for way too long, as if trying to decipher ancient hieroglyphs. He gets another text.

Shit, sorry. You’re a good fighter, I mean.

Thanks.

This is where you say ‘you’re a good fighter, too.’

Your left hook is sloppy. You wind up too much. Easy to spot.

Asshole.

Just telling the truth.

*

They text a lot and Burr can’t tell if it’s flirting or if maybe this is just how people text the super hot guy they beat and now want to…

Well.

*

Burr wakes up to read a text sent at like 2 am.

I’m in town next week. Still want to train?

His stomach flutters a bit at the thought of seeing Hamilton again, even if it’s just business. He writes back.

Sure. I’m happy to whip your ass again.

Buy a guy a drink first, geez.

Okay, that’s definitely flirting. Naturally, he freezes up and doesn’t respond.

*

Hamilton meets him outside the gym before it’s even opened. It’s a weird familiarity, they’ve texted a fair amount, but this is the first time he’s ever been in real proximity to Hamilton without their fight looming over him. It’s weird, so Burr quickly suggests they get into the ring, do a little light sparring.

“Winner buys drinks?” Hamilton says, smiling, those eyes on him. Shit.

“Winner buys drinks,” Burr echoes. His throat’s suddenly quite dry.

“You’re on.”

They touch gloves.

[tarantulas4davey]

HELLO BESTIE I am currently having Ralbert Brainrot and you're the best person go come to for this, obviously,, so PLEASE share! I would like to hear about ufc albert or youtuber race, or dancing partners!! I love them smm

HI YES HELLO USING THIS AS AN EXCUSE TO WRITE UFC FIGHTER AL PART 2 THANKS BABES

i just witnessed a literal crime and i’m Feeling The Rage (boxing judges at mma events can catch these hands) so here is. my brain on anger.

also the first half of this is pretty fight-talk heavy but the second half is more al/ralbert central so message me/send me an ask if i don’t explain something well enough <3

here is the ask i sent to @we-are-inevitable (thanks jac i’m in love with you mwah) and here is part 1 for this au if you haven’t read that one yet !!

also,,,,, this is fairly obvious. but trigger warning for violence/physical fighting, as well as blood. (it’s a rough gig y’all fjdhdb) oh and swearing but that’s pretty much just me LMAO

here i am, bein mad and writing ralbert. therapy time with chandler ig

OK SO

this is after his debut. duh. continuation

i think he’s probably 5 fights in with 5 wins. he’s been running people through, especially with four full camps after a short notice start, and he’s never even seen a decision in the ufc

let’s just say the hype train is moving FAST and it’s moving LOUD

everyone has to have those people that watch their fights just to see them lose, on top of the majority male fan base that have to have a little bit of toxic masculinity and homophobia in there

so there’s A LOT of people that are waiting for him and his hype train to get derailed. but there’s also a fair amount of fans, so you win some you lose some (the way i would die to see this be a real fighter pls)

now albert’s not always the most confident guy, and he’s never been cocky, but none of this shit gets to him. he’s got his coaches, he’s got his friends and he’s got race behind him. he knows he’s got the skills, and he’s got his support system, so who gives a shit what a bunch of cowards on the internet have to say?

and then they put him against someone known for his grappling and stamina. and the “it’s a wrap for dasilva!” bandwagon starts. it happens every time a rising striker and early knockout artist fights a well known grappler with any semblance of later round power (even if al has a background in wrestling and has gone 5 rounds and won outside of the ufc. it’s a bandwagon for a reason)

and it’s not Upsetting, it’s not really getting into his head in any way that’ll make him do worse, but it’s kinda pissing him off. which is bad for his opponent

the last person on earth you want to be fighting is an annoyed albert dasilva who thinks he has something to prove

he works his ass off in camp, and the press tour is a self-assured albert vs. a loudmouth who thinks he’s hot shit cause a few people on twitter think he’ll sweep

and, to be completely honest? it’s starting to look that way 2 rounds in.

it’s a 5 round fight, co-main event on a big card, and so far all al’s opponent has done is pinned him to the cage and kept him there. a few strikes worth anything - at least enough make al’s cheek bleed, no takedowns, which would at least give him some activity, and so submission attempts, so he can’t even gain any ground that way. he’s just- Stuck. and if THIS is how he loses, he’s gonna be pissed

the bell for the second round sounds, and you can actually see al’s chest heaving on camera as he walks to his corner - not because he’s tired or out of breath, but because he’s MAD, and fuck if he’s not going to do something about it

not only that, but he can not only see race and jack standing up by the cage - plus race’s expression, which is slightly annoyed and super anxious, which hurts his chest to think about - but he can hear them too

jack is yelling profanities, as per usual. he doesn’t that regardless of how the fight is going, but it’s less encouraging when you’re the one losing.

race though,,,, race isn’t really yelling, he’s more talking to himself than anything, but he’s close enough to cage and al knows him well enough to figure out what he’s saying. and if the muttered almost-prayers while he paces back and forth weren’t enough, the shiny gold engagement ring on race’s hand definitely is

round 3,,,, let’s just say it goes a little differently than the first 2 had gone.

he opens with a spinning back kick, of all fucking things, and that truly sets the pace

he’s the taller guy by a few inches, like usual, which makes his arms longer. the only reason crushing his against the cage worked is cause the guy he’s fighting cuts weight like a wrestler, so he’s easily got 20 pounds on albert come fight night

but once he finds his rhythm and starts throwing, he starts connecting too. he manages to stay out of range of his opponent and stay his comfortable distance to start t-ing off

this isn’t a one punch power ending. this isn’t a beautiful head kick, or a giant knee, or even just a clean right hook.

this is albert, who’s arms are starting to feel the 3rd round a little bit, hitting this guy with everything he has cause he refuses to lose this fight.

i mean- everyone watched him get up at the start of the round with a set jaw and a scary determined glint in his eye. he’s not a person you fuck with, and he’s definitely not a person you publicly ridicule before being locked in a cage to fight with

the guy he’s fighting is absolutely battered, but he manages to survive until round 4. the first of the championship rounds, something al’s never seen in a ufc fight before, and it feels like the arena is holding its breath

so when al comes out and does the same thing as round 3 to better results - fight ending results - everyone’s a little shocked, honestly

the commentary team’s in disbelief, cause albert is NOT a slow starter, regardless of what this fight would tell you, and the fact he managed a win at all, let alone such a phenomenal one, is fucking astounding

he gets his hand raised, obviously, but the really interesting part is the post fight interview

“albert, man, what changed between round 2 and 3? what second gear did you find?”

“bro, i just— it was pissing me off, honestly. i don’t come in here to get pinned down for 25 minutes. and, y’know, my team gave me good advice. i had all the pieces, straight from the jump, someone just had to force me to put them in place…”

and then he looks over at race, who gives al one of those half grin, half smirks and winks at him, and al just chuckles to himself and finishes answering the question

“the thing that really forced my hand is race. i won’t get cheesy on you, but watching someone who loves and supports you through everything panic cause he’s scared for you - it’s a big motivator. everyone would figure out a lot more of my motivations if they went and watched race’s expressions back instead of whatever the hell i’m doing in here. he’s always been the brains, i’m just the brawn.”

and that’s a better answer than anyone was expecting, plus he’s just had the fight of a lifetime that’s probably earned him a title shot, so he’s done soon after that and gets to have his little in-cage celebration

he hugs his team and jack, who razzes him a little bit as per usual, and makes some dumb quip about going over tapes later like he’s a coach. and then comes race

he hugs him, all tender and cute and also very sweaty cause That’s How It Works, and the camera’s focused on him, so they can tell they’re whispering back and forth. but there’s no mics on them, so what’s said is missed entirely on the audience, but it’s their usual cheesy, in love mess

“congrats, baby. i’m proud of you.”

“oh please. it was 90% you anyway. i meant what i said, it wasn’t just for the cameras.”

“i know that. i’m gonna have to get you back somehow for telling everyone to go back and watch my awful anxious expression. i’ll think of something.”

“i’m sure you will, sweetheart.”

and then al does that awful, adorable lil nose bump thing, and then kisses race. and then jack covers his eyes and whines until they stop like the actual 12 year old boy he is inside

and then they leave the octagon, race and al holding hands, and al throws his arm over jack’s shoulder and shoves his head down and pushes him, cause even though he was just in a literal cage match he’s still a roughhousing teenager at heart

and he’s got interviews and press shit that separates him from his people, and he’s gotta slide that bulletproof mask back down over all the happy and in love shit he’s feeling so he can not smile like an idiot on camera constantly

but every once in awhile he’ll catch jack giving him the finger and laugh before returning it below view of the camera

or he’ll catch race’s eye from where he’s standing behind all the studio lights and do a little wave under the camera and return the wink from earlier, and the unbothered fighter facade will crack a little bit

but he’s not completely convinced that’s such a bad thing

GOD THIS POST IS SO MUCH LONGER THEN I MEANT IT TO BE IM SORRY

but Yeah. Them.

i love this au a helleva lot more than i should but that’s Fine cause i’ve got thoughts for days on it

[nightswithkookmin]

WHEN JIKOOK ARE SHADING EACHOTHER:2020 Japan Comback Interview Analysis

WARNING: Full on angst ahead.

If you believe Jikook are holding hands chanting Kumbaya all the time while they walk into a purple sunset this is not for you. Jikook is real. At least to me and as a real relationship they have their fair share of ups and downs.

DISCLAIMER: Everything expressed in here is my thoughts, observations and opinion. It is not meant to offend any of the members involved or anyone else.

A Little Background:

Its my and a few other Jikookers observation that Jikook fight. A lot. They separate or breakup from time to time too. You may or may not have caught these moments as they happen but doesn't mean they don't happen all.

For me, 2018 and 2020 have been the pinnacle of such moments. Jikook are having issues- have been having issues. They are still going through a rough patch unfortunately. But not to be alarmed, they are working through it.

Now I can't say with certainty when such said issues began. I can only speculate. I started noticing some sort of tension between them right before their vacation somewhere between March/August 2019 to date.

I'm talking about their Bon Voyage 4 moments, the tattoo girl scandal, Jimins Paris scandal, Jingle, MMA, Jin's Birthday Vlive moments and all those moments that had us raising our brows.

And when I say started noticing I mean from across the various means they've been communicating with us- across their Weverse posts, Twitter, Vlives, interviews etc

I like to look at all these moments combined to see the bigger picture and not just dwell on individual moments as and when they are presented to us because BigHit do not feed us their moments in real time.

I know what you're thinking and no, Jimin flying all over to South Korea to celebrate Jks birthday wasn't him making a grand gesture for the sake of it. It is my opinion that that was just him extending an olive branch to fix things between them because... More on that later.

To understand the shade I'm referring to you'd have to understand why they are shading eachother to begin with:

Jeon Jungkook. To put it simply, Jeon Jungkook hates not being with Jimin 24/7. HE HATES IT. He hates when Jimin is not with him. When Jimin is not around him. When Jimin is with anybody that is not him. Bless him. He has proven this time and time again with all the times he's cheated to be in the same group as Jimin during Runs. His 'Jimin hyung and I will sleep here' his 'thats the friendship' statements he throws at people when Jimin has a moment with any of the members that remotely resembles anything other than friendship, SateliteJeon, and my personal favorite TeleporterJeon etc

Now I suspect this is just due to his personality as an INTP. He has the tendency to latch on to things that feels falimiliar to him and would fall back to it so he feels safe and anchored. He has latched on to Jimin and uses him as his emotional anchor and safe zone and we thank him for that. Thanks to him we've had all those amazing moments as well as the Jeonlous and now TeleporterJeon moments that only proves to us crazy Jikookers that we aren't that crazy and that Jikook is real. Bless him.

Now Jimin is like that too, don't get it twisted. This man is so deep into Jk he won't even hear anything we say. Call him by his JK. Bless him. Jimin is also very possessive of JK if not more possessive. Its just his slytherin ass does a better Job at hiding it.

The problem is, this differences in their personalities may have likely created a lot of tension and problems in their relationship with each other as well as in the relationship they have with their friends and bandmates.

The difference here being while JK latches onto Jimin because he is an introvert and have anxiety issues and isn't exactly the social type; JM is the very opposite of that.

Jimin is a highly extroverted person and loves to maintain other relationships besides his romantic one and there is nothing wrong with that.

See that face on Tae here? Now that's the face of an angry man right there. Tae literally held his breath when JK came to stand next to him because he was afraid JK was gonna ask him to move so he could stand with Jimin instead like he does with the other members like Hobi and Suga most times. To me, this was him feeling like his little bromance moment with his soulmate was being threatened and intruded on.

EXHIBIT A:

Jimin of course noticed what JK was up to. JK was being territorial. Jimin glanced at Tae through the corner of his eyes and moved to stand behind Tae. Later he tried to cheer Tae up by dancing with him.

We've seen moments time and again where JK has moved to physically block Tae from interacting with Jimin on stage and during fansigning events etc and mind you Tae is Jimin's best friend and soulmate.

This face right here! Thanks for attending my Tedtalk. Have a nice day!

Tae said it not me. It seems JK has the tendency to isolate JM and keep Jimin from his friends most times both on and off camera.

In this video, Tae's expression after he said JK was keeping JM from coming to do the live with him said it all.

Why would Jimin do that? Because I believe Tae had complained to him several times how he feels about JK keeping him all to himself and interfering with their moments most times. Frankly, I'd do same if my friends' partners kept interfering with our girls night.

And also because Jimin likes to reassure people of his love and loyalty when they feel their bond with him is being threatened by someone else. We've seen him do this with JK too a couple of times like when JK saw RM wrap his hand around Jimin during that live and he ducked and later did a heart for him. You know which VLive I'm talking about. Moving on.

Do I need to say anything here? Hobi is JMs roommate and even he complained in this VLive how he was missing JM. So the question is, where the bloody hell had JM been?! Why is everyone he is supposed to be close to missing him? His Bestfriend/soulmate and now his roommate? Fo you see the pattern?

This is not much of a stretch if you think about it because Tae has literally said this to Jimin before when he told him on the live he was missing him and JM had to apologize for that.

Truth is, Jeon Jungkook can be a bit of a bully sometimes when it comes to his position next to Jimin. That's his spot and he won't hesitate to claim it no matter who is in the way.

And for JK, we all know he doesn't interact much with the members off camera. Tae has said once that JK ignores him when they aren't filming which is why when JK was given a secret mission to Ignore Tae, Tae didn't even notice.

Now we all know KBS Gayo is Vmin land and so having JK try to stamp his Jikook stamp on it must have been tough for Tae.

RM has also said how JK doesn't even call him and Jin has said JK barely answers his calls and texts. This is not to say JK is a bad person or hates his other bandmates. He loves them all. He is just an introvert.

Now this is getting longer than intended so I'm going to break this post into two parts.

EXHIBIT B:

But to sum up everything I have been saying and to get to the point of this post, JKs possessiveness over JM for sometime has been taking a toll on JM and the group in general as it has been putting a lot of stress on JMs relationship with others.

To the point, some of the members have even been seen to side eye JK sometimes when he comes around JM and some do try to separate them or put JK in his place, acting like they don't approve of their relationship etc.

Now, I won't name names or point out such moments because it can be a bit controversial and I don't want anyone twisting my words around and calling me names. That would hurt my feelings because I love them all and my intentions are not to be malicious in any way. I'm just pointing out an observation and of course I could be wrong about everything.

I don't know for sure, but it's my belief that Jikook have been advised to spend sometime apart because perhaps people had noticed their codependent tendencies have been reaching exponential heights. It could have been their therapist or their friends or loved ones but since March/August 2019 through late 2019 to date is when I noticed they have been trying to spend time apart.

By this I mean, their vacation apart last year, JM staying with Tae for sometime this year, JM visiting his family in Busan this year, spending time with his friends and JK on the other hand taking much time to himself, picking up new hobbies such as reading, posting on Weverse about how he misses JM which I analyzed in my previous post, JM responding with how he was drinking alone watching the rain;

JK not knowing JM had taken up pop dancing, not knowing JM had taken up boxing- PS: Jikook live together, ride together, do everything together, JM calls Jks Mum Mum etc. They are super close and have proven they know every intimate detail about each other like the food they like, the briefs they wear, how long they shower, when they go to bed, what time they wake up, what song they have on their alarm etc. So when suddenly they don't know certain less intimate detail about eachother it is usually a sign that that information/detail came to exist at a time they were separated and weren't filling eachother in on what they've been up to when they are temporarily apart. Like during the recent Jikook Vlive when Jimin was surprised JK had eaten Gimbap. He seemed really shocked by that information and I wonder why. *smirk

TO BE CONTINUED.....

Signed,

GOLDY

[btshodown]

Prey For Me

↳ “Having an addictive personality got you into a lot of trouble sometimes; from having alcohol poisoning to something simple like throwing yourself into new kdramas a little too aggressively. So bringing in a strange hybrid into your apartment to “help him” was no different. Only you had no idea what storm you just dragged yourself into. He was only supposed to stay the night.”

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre/Warnings: Sour candy that’s sweet in the inside, sprinkled with some crack. Hybrid AU, detailed mentions of violence and blood. Possible future smut in later chapters. Rating: PG13 Word Count: 6.5k

➭ Why must I do this to myself at 2 am...anyways yeah, this finally came out after months of contemplation. I was going to originally make it a giant one-shot, but I was exhausting myself with that goal so I’ve decided to just make it a mini series. Please let me know your thoughts! :)

The cadence of people cheering and betting surrounds you, tempting like a siren’s call to join in on the intoxication of gambling, but you resist with ardor. You were no fool and were well aware that if you gave into that lull, you would never see the light of day. Unfortunately for you, you had a very addictive personality and once something entered your life; your inhibitions got easily swept away with the roaring current.

I’m a good noodle; I’m a good noodle…

A quick yelp rips from your throat as suddenly the body of a sweaty, drunk man is pushed onto you; were it not for the strong grip on your waist appearing to pull you away, you would have no doubt you’d be pinned to the floor by the barely coherent man.

“Hey man, be careful!” your ears ring at the boisterous laughter surrounding you before the deep timbre of your companion’s voice enters your ears in a soft lilt of concern. “Y/N? You good?”

One blink, two, three blinks and the ringing in your ears slowly melts to allow your coherency to finally reemerge; along with your annoyance. “I’d be hell of a lot better if my ass was planted on that indent on the couch I made while watching Game of Thrones and stuffing my face with that leftover Pad Thai!”  

Taehyung releases his own soft yelp as your hand swipes at his bicep, your eyes pinning him with a glare only a disturbed homebody could give. Were it not for his damn conniving personality and honey coated lies about accompanying him to a “private” event he got invited to, you would have never left the safety of the blanket cocoon you had painstakingly buried yourself in. But you had stupidly gave in to his whining and pleading, managing to even feel pity for the devious bastard; well boo-boo the fool you, cause you got played.

The “private” event was code for “underground-illegal-hybrid-MMA-fighting”.

You had to admit to yourself that you were no hardcore hybrid supporter; you didn’t risk your safety to attend the protests on their rights or freedom, but that didn’t mean you enjoyed watching them suffer. Staying silent on the matter whenever it was brought into debates was your only sin.

“Oh come on, y/n, I already told you that I had no idea it was a hybrid MMA,” Taehyung ignores your petulant pout, not caring for his safety from your wrath as he slings a long arm around your shoulders; effectively maneuvering you toward some benches that faced the netted platform of the ring. To his benefit, he seemed like he was trying to reassure himself as well; Taehyung was more outspoken about his distaste on how hybrids were treated after all. “I know it might seem a bit…sketchy, but from what I just heard, the hybrids do this of their own free will. They don’t seem to be forced into it.”

A huff leaves you as both of you take a seat on the edge of the bench and quickly cross your arms in an effort to make yourself small to avoid anyone bumping into you. “And you believe them? When this whole thing is illegal?”        

Your companion only offers a sheepish half grin and small shrug of his shoulders as an answer; leaving you to roll your eyes and focus on the ring in front of you just as the lights dimmed around you. The cacophony of the audience rose to a higher decibel as the only lights shining were on the platform as the announcer walked into the fencing to begin the matches. While Taehyung kept looking on in a mixture of unease and concern for the hybrids fighting, you couldn’t stomach staring at the matches, so you opted to focus on the ground in front of you. Though that did nothing to stop your wincing every time you heard a particularly loud crack of fists or kicks followed by a grunt of pain; just how the hell was this voluntary? This was so much worse than boxing in your opinion; MMA fighting didn’t have gloves to cushion the aftershocks of their punching and kicking was also an added element that only caused more pain. This wasn’t even counting the fact that they weren’t completely human and therefore stronger physically; their hits were a lot more lethal.

Finally the last match was announced as you sadly watched them carry out what was supposed to be a Doberman hybrid, now bloody and bruised beyond recognition from the panther hybrid he was up against. Just how was that fair? They purposely pitted the poor male against an apex predator who obviously had greater strength and quicker reflexes; it didn’t take you long to realize the matches were fixed for those gambling. You were just glad that the last match was about to happen because you knew you couldn’t take much more of this; the whole scene caused revulsion to slowly churn in your belly.

“And finally the match you have all been anticipating!” The announcer looks a touch from smug as the crowd roars with excitement, your stomach clenching suddenly with apprehension. “Give it up to our reigning queen of MMA; Abaddon!”

Your mouth falls open slightly as the name itself prompted you to look up and you were met with a beautiful, tall woman with bright orange hair that she was nonchalantly wrapping up in a bun. Clad in only a sports bra and spandex shorts, her impressive muscles were out in proud display and it was easy to see just why she was called the queen, that wasn’t even mentioning how her aura exuded jaded confidence in a way only a tigress could. Her rounded ears atop her head barely twitched from the noise, no doubt accustomed to it, while her tail swayed in what seemed to be boredom; there was no misgiving that she rightfully earned the name Abaddon: a fallen angel of death whose name literally means “to destroy.” Just what poor soul was being pitted against her?

Once the crowd settled down, the announcer gained a gleam in his eyes as he continues on. “And just who is going to face off our tigress queen? This fighter has been climbing his way from the bottom and just might give our champion a run for her money; give it up to Ares!”

If you believed the woman before you had been intimidating, the male walking into the ring made you rethink your previous judgement. The crowd made little noise, though whether it was due to disdain or wonder at the sculpture of a man, you weren’t sure, but he surely now had your undivided attention. Despite wearing the same outfit of just shorts like the other male fighters, the hybrid before you did the material more of a service as his lithe figure is stacked with bulging muscles. His stomach is impressively cut with abs and his thighs and legs are thick with power; even his face looks strong with a sharp jaw and furrowed brows. Despite his strong presence however, there was an underlying boyish softness to his face that captured your heart; your eyes couldn’t stop their gazing at his warm, brown doe-like eyes and his asymmetrical pink lips.

A breath gets stuck in your chest as those brown eyes quickly roam over the crowd, eliciting a crooked grin before he turns back over to his opponent and flattens his long grey ears with a sneer. It isn’t until you see his ears move that you realize with dawning horror that they pitted a rabbit hybrid with a fucking tiger. Sure, his muscles were impressive, mainly his legs which should have been a giveaway to what animal he was infused with, but he was still a prey animal up against a damn apex predator; your heart squeezes painfully imagining a worse fate for him than the Doberman from before.

You wanted to look away, to tell Taehyung to take you home this instant because surely you were going to witness a murder with how fiercely the tigress was eyeing the male, but something kept you silent. Maybe it was sick fascination to watch Ares fighting and see if those muscles on his back would tense deliciously like you were imagining, or perhaps it was that softness beneath his strong features that tugged at your heart, you weren’t certain which it was yet.

The silence that hangs in the air is thick with tension and bloodlust, something even the announcer seemed keen on leaving. With a quick cut down motion with his hand, the announcer quickly turns and locks the cage door behind him as swiftly as his human legs could carry him; right on time as well since the two hybrids wasted no time in lunging at one another. It was like nothing you had ever seen before, the two of them looked more like they were performing a deadly dance; with each swing of limbs the other was always quick to dodge or block. The scene absentmindedly reminded you of capoeira; they were almost speaking to one another with how they moved and their eyes shone with excited violence.

Even the normally boisterous audience was captivated by the fight, bated breath waiting to be released with the promise of the first hit, which comes with a painful crack of skin and a grunt. Your heart lurches into your throat as your hands wring together, feeling sick as you witness Ares wipe a stream of blood from his brow, but it doesn’t take him long to swiftly feign left before spinning on his right leg to land a powerful kick to Abaddon’s open side. The crowd finally comes to life at the two hits and the cacophony of their delight drowns out the loud smacks of skin, but your heartbeat stubbornly continues to be louder.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed you by, too enraptured by the male who fought with a viciousness that spoke of fearing failure; you could see it with every clench of his jaw when he got hit and the refusal to fall to the floor even as the tigress continues to try. Ares is quick on his feet and with each step he almost seemed to bounce, something that no doubt was brought on by his animal half, and with how the woman bared her teeth, you knew she was having a hard time cornering him. She was moving like fire, unpredictable in a methodical way that sang of years of practice and instinct; her plan was easy to distinguish the more you watched and you knew that if she managed to knock the male hybrid to the floor, it was all over.

Only a few seconds had passed, and even staring without blinking had you almost missing the moment the tigress wrapped her tail around his ankle and pulled; the heavy bang of his body hitting the floor reverberated throughout your ribs. The hush in the room didn’t last as a soft snarl is heard, the blur of the woman’s body seen mid leap before she’s descending on the poor male with her claws out. Amidst the violent cheering of the crowd, you unknowingly let out a terrified scream the moment the first fist is thrown to his stomach and don’t realize your standing until you feel Taehyung gently nudge your arm in concern.

You weren’t sure if it was your delusions from worry, but for a brief second you locked eyes with Ares the moment you had screamed, watching with wide eyes as he gazed at you with slight muddled wonder. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to have your heart pound painfully against your chest as you gaze at the way the tigress unleashes her fury on his body with horror; not able to look away for the fear that she’ll truly kill him right now. His grunts and snarls are soft, being held back by pride, but soon a loud yelp escapes his mouth as blood is drawn on his chest from where the woman dug her claws in.

“She’s going to kill him,” your voice comes out in a breath of dread before you quickly reach out to your friend and feel the desperation trying to breach your throat, “she’s going to kill him Tae! Can’t someone stop her?!”

Taehyung’s voice is choked with sympathy and something else as you both watch Ares try to curl in on himself to lessen the hits. “Death isn’t an illegal thing here, y/n. It’s usually encouraged.”

You decide that in this moment, you truly hate your friend for bringing you to this shithole, forced to watch as this woman tries her hardest to kill the poor hybrid beneath her for the infamy; you’ll never let Tae know that though. Despite the small amount of resentment you feel for being brought here, you know that you’ll eventually forgive him. Just not right now as you watch Ares’ eyes take longer to open with each blink and feeling your heart crumble as small streams of blood run down his face and body. You weren’t sure what deity out there would hear you, but you begin to frantically pray that they’ll do something, anything to stop the fight; if not you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from running in there yourself.

You just didn’t realize that your prayer would be answered so abstractly.

“Cops!” the shout was faint and easily drowned by the roaring of the crowd, but you turn your head for a second as you spot a wide-eyed man running toward the ring. It isn’t until he bravely flings himself onto the wires of the cage to rattle it, causing the tigress to pause and snarl at the man, that the audience realizes what it is he’s screaming louder than before. “COPS!”

The change is instantaneous, leaving you to stand absentmindedly watching Ares’ fallen body as Abaddon gracefully leaps to the top of the cage and jumps out; there was a man with an expensive suit waiting for her already and quickly escorts her out of sight. Even your shoulders getting hit and shoved as people scramble out of the building like panicked ants isn’t enough to have you avert your eyes or your racing thoughts; no one was coming to get Ares.

It isn’t until you feel a violent tug on your arm do you refocus to the present, the yells of the dispersing crowd finally reaching your ears as does Taehyung’s shouts of alarm and panic. “Come on y/n! We have to go!”

Your body finally moves, only it isn’t in the direction your companion anticipated as your feet maneuver through the throng of people to reach the cage; it took zero convincing on your part to decide what to do. You aren’t going to leave the hybrid in the hands of the police and abandon him, even if you had to drag him to your apartment on your own.

“Y/n! Y/n! What are you – seriously?!”

You ignore Taehyung’s frantic shouts as he follows you through the crowd, not pausing once to check if the police were already inside the building, too worried that if you did it would cost you time you didn’t have. With your heart pounding in your ears and the adrenaline coursing through you, you yank the door open to the cage and run inside, sliding onto your knees to quickly check the man’s pulse. However, the moment your fingers touch the sweat covered skin, a big hand quickly wraps around your wrist and pulls a yelp from your throat; the hybrid had opened one eye and was glaring at you tiredly. Even as bloody and exhausted as he was, he could still stay aware enough to try and fend someone off; though you doubted that even as strong as he was, he could fight you right now.

“Hey,” you croak out as you try to stop the shaking in your hand which was still being squeezed in his grip, “I know that you won’t trust me, but the police are here – we have to get you out before they get you.”

It was at this moment that you saw something not many people probably got to see, this strong man turning into a small, hurt boy as his eye loses that glare to adopt one of fear. You’re sure that he didn’t need an explanation as to why the cops finding him alone was a bad thing; all his life was running away from the law as there was no doubt he was an unbound hybrid – no one coming to take him away like they did with Abaddon was enough proof. It was also in this moment that you vow to not mention that second of unadulterated vulnerability to anyone.

Ares closes his eye for a second, before opening it again to give you a small nod as he begins to stand with your hands grabbing onto his waist and arm. Time seems to move again as you look up to see Taehyung rushing over, cursing loudly as he hurriedly slings Ares’ arm over his shoulder and starts sprinting out. You gasp in breaths and try to keep up with the sudden movement, making sure to clutch onto the hybrid to assure you wouldn’t fall on your ass. It isn’t until the three of you burst through some emergency exit that you chance a look behind you, watching with wide eyes as men in uniform flash lights in your direction with shouts for you to stop.

With a slam of the door, the light is gone, but your speed continues the same as you all scramble over to your mini SUV; which for once you are so incredibly happy you stuck around with it as opposed to a smaller car.  Ares would actually fit in it for one. You throw a soft apology to the man as Tae all, but threw him across the back seat and slams the door before hopping into the passenger seat.

“Drive y/n! Drive like you’re in the Fast & Furious Tokyo Drift!”

“I never watched that one! I heard it was sad!”

“This is isn’t the time y/n! Just do as Rihanna sang; shut up and drive!”

Despite your words, you’re quick to turn on the engine and press your foot on the gas pedal, the squealing of tires drowning out your heartbeat as the hidden building gets smaller on your rearview mirror.

Labored breaths is all you hear for a few moments as you get farther away from the warehouses, your heartbeat slowing down enough for you to realize the weight of what you just did. What the hell were you going to do with a hybrid? As much as you wouldn’t mind sheltering the man, you couldn’t ignore the fact that he’s a stranger and to top it off, dabbled in illegal fights. He could kill you the moment he gets an opening for all you know, and yet…seeing him fight with so much determination only to get beaten, it caused a painful thrum in your chest. Maybe your impulsive behavior could get you hurt, but there was something in his eyes that made you want to believe he’d never lay a hand on you.

“What the fuck,” the voice is soft and breathy, before you realize its Taehyung as soon as his tone rises. “Y/n, what the fuck!”

You visibly cringe as you can feel his disapproving scowl from your seat, but for safety and your own embarrassment, you don’t turn around. There’s no point in questioning what he meant with his declaration; you know exactly what he’s so shocked about. With his shouting though, you’re quick to adjust your rearview mirror, afraid that Taehyung’s shouting somehow offended your surprise guest; but to your relief, the male hybrid seemed to be sleeping from exhaustion.

“I know the situation isn’t ideal –”

“There’s an MMA hybrid in the backseat!”

“I couldn’t leave him!”

You feel Taehyung’s stare of pity and disbelief as you bite the inside of your cheek, your eyes automatically flicking up to the rearview mirror to watch the rise and fall of the hybrid’s chest. “I know it’s stupid and I just opened a can of worms…but Tae I couldn’t leave him,” your voice is a soft whisper as the glow of the streetlights finally breaks out from the darkness of the sketchy streets you left behind.

Silence once again permeates the air as Taehyung simply slumps into his seat, his expression a weird mixture of understanding and annoyance. You’re not quite sure what your friend is thinking and at the moment you aren’t in the right state of mind to pry in concern; although you do feel guilty for the impulsive decision you made. You didn’t live alone and Taehyung’s disapproval only made sense since he would have to put up with your impulsivity; you just hope he wouldn’t stay angry with you for too long. Plans of making him his favorite food and desserts to lessen the blow of having an unknown hybrid crash in your shared space begin to enter your mind as the route to the space in question becomes familiar again.

It isn’t long before you finally reach your apartment, the silence still hanging between you two as you make sure none of your neighbors are out to see Taehyung carry a bloody hybrid on his back. The trek to the elevator is done in stiff silence as your eyes continue to roam over the lobby to make sure no one is about to catch the three of you, and it isn’t until you see the metal doors close in front of you that you let out a breath. Your apartment was the first door once getting off the lift, so walking to it without being seen won’t be as big of an issue.

Just as the elevator begins its ascent, you let your eyes slowly glance over to your right discretely, watching with a small, worried frown at how blank Taehyung’s expression is. After nearly two years living with your best friend, you knew better than anyone that when the normally boisterous male was quiet and expression a clean slate, he was angry or very irritated. What you didn’t know was why. You get it, you made a very stupid decision in risking your safety for the hybrid slumped on his back, but surely he could sympathize on why you did; more so when he was the more active voice in their rights. It wouldn’t be a permanent situation in your life (you imagined) and suppose once the hybrid healed, he’d finally forgive you.

The sudden shift and sound of the doors chiming break you out of your guilt plagued thoughts, but with Tae walking briskly to your apartment door only serves to gnaw at you. He definitely was angry. With a sharp look from him, you’re quick to scramble to the door and push the keys into the lock to finally let all of you into your shared home. Although, you can’t hide a wince and a soft, stern “careful” falling from your lips as your friend practically dumps Ares’ body onto the couch without a care.

After hanging your keys on the mount by the door and dumping your jacket on the bar counter, you take quick steps over to the small L shaped couch; making quick work in rearranging the hybrid onto the lounge section of the sofa for more of a comfortable position. Once satisfied that he won’t wake up sore, you hesitate before running a hand on the fading bruises on his skin, feeling wonder fill you at how quickly he was already healing. Despite the blood staining his abdomen and chest, the gashes themselves already seemed to be closing and well to the point of recovering. All you really needed to do was simply clean the blood and grime, along with waiting for his body to recuperate with sleep.

With hope spilling into your ribs, you turn to call Tae to help you gather supplies, only to see an empty living room and kitchen, with the door to the hallway and bedrooms slightly ajar as an indicator that he probably already went into his room. Guilt and worry once again begins to wrap around your heart while your stomach churned at the thought of him truly hating you for this. A sigh escapes you, but you grimace as you stand up, ignoring the stiffness in your limbs as you walk over to the small kitchen and grab the large bowl you usually use to mix your desserts, carefully covering the interior with clear wrap. Once done, you fill it up with some warm, soapy water and open a drawer to take out one of your kitchen towels before making your way back to the couch.

The more you cleaned his naked torso, the more bewitched you felt as each swipe of the bloodied rag shows perfectly carved abs and pecs, leaving you with an embarrassing burn in your core. Shame floods you with each lustful thought that came barging into your mind, trying your hardest to ignore the flame in the pit of your belly getting hotter with each second that passed. Honestly, is this man somehow a deity in disguise? His muscles were ridiculously defined and large; it was getting harder to control your wild thoughts.

Come on girl, get a hold of yourself. The man is hurt and unconscious! With a sigh you close your eyes and exhale softly to gather back your wits before finishing. Appreciating your hard work, you let your eyes fixate on the nasty gashes on his stomach and the yellowing bruises over his face. With a nod, you make a quick decision as you grab the bowl filled with dirty water and the rag, quickly cleaning up the supplies before returning with a small container of antibacterial ointment; no doubt he was healing just fine, but your worry wouldn’t let you walk away without providing him some relief.

As you delicately spread the ointment on his wounded skin however, the man shifts in his sleep suddenly and it has your breath and movements stilling in tense silence as you watch him carefully; but he simply turns onto his side and curls up, no signs of having been disturbed. Your breath leaves you slowly as your gaze softens; once more witnessing his features smooth over to show just how young he truly is. He couldn’t be older than Taehyung, perhaps younger now that you’re witnessing his guard completely lowered in sleep to show that glimpse of a young man you had seen back at the ring. Just how did he get mixed in with such a horrible way of surviving? Surely rabbit hybrids must be amongst the top adopted hybrids alongside the dog and cat mixes, so why is it that Ares found himself having to fight to stay alive?

“I’m sorry,” your voice is merely a whisper, the words having no destination and settle instead in the air between you two as you continue to watch Ares sleep soundly. Even you were unsure as to why you felt like apologizing. For how badly his life must be? For having been abandoned at that warehouse? For being alone? Who knew, certainly you didn’t, but with those thoughts plaguing your mind you stand up and drape your throw blanket on his figure before making your way to your room.

You spare a concerned glance over to your friend’s closed door and note with disappointment that there is no light fighting to get out through the bottom of his door; his room completely dark. With a small shake of your head, you gently close your door and get ready for bed; silently throwing a hopeful wish for tomorrow to not be a disaster once the hybrid awoke. 

Your wish seems to have landed in the trash as you stare blankly at the scene before you late the next morning; Ares is awake and clutching onto one corner of the blanket you covered him in, glaring venomously at Taehyung who’s also tugging on the other end of the cotton with his own ferocious scowl at the hybrid. No words were being exchanged, but the air is thick with animosity and testosterone, leaving you shell-shocked at witnessing your goofball of a best friend suddenly look so…animalistic. Just what random parallel universe did you drop into? As if realizing your impulsive behavior with the hybrid wasn’t disorienting enough, now you also have to deal with Taehyung suddenly becoming an ass?

With a sigh and a glance at the clock mounted on the wall beside you – it was only 10 am – you’re quick to walk over to the two males, snatching the blanket from both of them. Two sets of eyes quickly snap to you, one annoyed, but apologetic; and the other narrowed in hostility. You try your best to give Ares a small, but sincere smile before turning to Taehyung and smacking his arm, giving him a scowl of disapproval.

“Just what on earth are you doing, you walnut? Why are you picking fights with our guest so early, especially after how last night went?”

Your brown haired roommate only whines at your annoyance and is quick to wrap his long arms around your shoulders in a dramatic fashion; you didn’t miss how he oddly rubbed his cheek on your own. “Please don’t be mad at me eomma! I forgot we had some asshole on our couch so I got…surprised and only acted on self-defense. True story.”

“I am not your mom! God I thought we went over this? Why is the mom thing coming back all of a sudden you fucking weirdo?” You would never admit to him how relief floods you at having him back to his idiot self.

A loud scoff followed by a snarl has you remembering the hybrid behind you and it serves as a reminder that he isn’t exactly exuding happy vibes right now; you wouldn’t either if you woke up in a stranger’s house after being beaten up honestly.

“I would hardly call you smacking me awake and yanking the blanket off of me as self-defense you rat,” at the last word Taehyung lets out an indignant sound and it only makes Ares give him a smug smile.

“I am not a rat, you cracked out Bugs Bunny! You should be grateful that my eomma even saved your sorry ass from being taken away by the cops.”

“Taehyung!” you gasp as you quickly yank his shaggy, morning hair, ignoring his whines of protests and turn to give Ares an apologetic stare. “I am so sorry; please don’t listen to what he says. I don’t know why he’s acting like this, but please feel free to use our bathroom to freshen up while I make us some breakfast. As an apology, Tae will even lend you some of his old clothes.”

Your roommate only gives out a strangled noise of protest, wiggling out of your hold to give you a look of comical betrayal. “Says who?! I don’t want him wearing my clothes! He’ll rub his gross smell all over them!”

Ares is quick to begin walking toward the door of your apartment with a heavy scowl on his lips, clearly not wanting stay with how rude Taehyung was being. “Whatever. I don’t want or need your pity or charity.”

Your heart squeezes painfully and before your mind can catch up, you once again act out impulsively, quickly wrapping your fingers around the muscle on his forearm. Only in doing so it makes you realize that he is in fact, still very much walking in only small shorts and nothing else. You swallow as quietly as you can and clear your throat, noting a bit late that he also hasn’t shaken your hand off of him, but neither has he turned around. Your heart flutters in hope.

“I didn’t help you out of pity,” your words are soft, but firm and you feel him stiffen under your hand, making the words quickly jumble out in a mess to have him understand you. “I know you won’t believe me, but I just couldn’t leave you there while no one came to help you. Especially after…after seeing the fight and how that tigress –”

“You helping me doesn’t change the fact that you paid to see those fights,” the venom in his sudden snarl has your hand leaving his arm as if burned and the stare he gives you over his shoulder has an annoying sting come to your eyes. He only scoffs and carries on. “You think that doing one good thing for a “worthless” hybrid suddenly makes you a saint? Don’t make me laugh.”

So focused on not letting the uninvited tears to fall, you don’t notice Tae getting closer until you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders and an almost animalistic growl sounding from right above your head. “She didn’t pay to be there you ungrateful jackass. I was invited to go there and I brought her with me so I wouldn’t go alone. So if I were you I’d stop swimming in the river you cried for yourself and thank y/n for risking her safety to get you out of there.”

The air is stifling as your voice leaves you and has your breath stuck at the base of your throat, too anxious to say anything to break the tension. The moments are far and few in-between when Taehyung gets angry, but times like these remind you that despite being a goofball, he was still very much a nearly a six foot tall, broad shouldered man with some mean ass looking eyebrows. Despite not looking threatened in the least, Ares still regards your friend and roommate with a serious, pensive scowl; body fully turned and chest instinctually puffing out to no doubt assert dominance.

Even in a serious situation such as this, your traitorous eyes fail to stay on the hybrid’s face and instead greedily roam over the bulging muscles with slight awe. Damn was this man giving Chris Hemsworth a run for his money.

“Thanks.”

The growled response has your eyes snapping up in shock to stare at Ares, body flushing in pleasant warmth as he stares back, but at seeing your lips form a small ‘o’ of surprise, he’s quick to look away with a frown. You’d blame the lack of any lights on for the small rosy hue his cheeks have gained.

“Do you have a home to go back to?” That is not what you meant to say and by the strangled noise that leaves Taehyung’s throat, he wasn’t expecting it either, but he knows where that question is going and is unfortunately much too shell-shocked to stop it. From how things went last night, you have a sad intuitive feeling that the male hybrid is homeless and like before, you just couldn’t sit idly on that thought.

The ears on Ares’ head flatten back in apprehension; his eyes once more regarding you, but with a certain guard in them as his confusion shows in his hesitancy. “What’s it to you?”

Someday you’d learn to control your impulsive behavior and stop to think about your decisions before making them. Today was not that day. “You can stay with us if you don’t. Rent won’t be an issue either; Tae and I make enough money to not be living paycheck to paycheck. Even if you just stay until you can find somewhere else, it beats having to hide from hybrid police department.”

The thickness in their air increases as everyone holds their breath, Taehyung dropping his arm from around your shoulders in a defeat he can already see happening and knows is futile in trying to fight it. But with each silent second that ticks by has your heart hammering away at your ribs faster, especially when a flicker of that same vulnerability you witnessed back in the cage last night appears in Ares’ eyes.

“Only until I can find someplace else,” the look is gone and is replaced with a gruff awkwardness as the hybrid nervously picks at his cheek, his voice quieter than before.

A loud grunt of dissatisfaction leaves your friend’s throat as he moves away from you and stomps angrily toward the hallway, throwing a petulant huff under his breath about getting ready for work. You let out your own sigh as the reality of what you just did settles on your skin. You’d have to make Taehyung his favorite foods and desserts on top of playing with his hair until your hand fell off for who knows how long for your hasty decision. Truly, you were on a roll with all the impulsivity, but it was done and you’d need to remind yourself after Taehyung’s shift at the diner to question his unfound hostility toward the hybrid.

For now, however…

“Let’s um, get you some clean clothes for after you shower and in the mean time I can make us some breakfast,” your smile is small and albeit a bit awkward, but it was sincere enough to have the hybrid give a grateful nod in return. “As if it wasn’t obvious by now, my name is y/n and I’m going to go on a wild guess and say Ares isn’t really your actual name?”

“You’d guess correctly,” he avoids your eyes for a few more seconds before he gives in and glances back at you, voice growing soft in newfound timidity. “Jeongguk.”

“Jeongguk,” your tongue rolls around the name easily and so preoccupied you are in trying to pronounce it exactly as he did, you miss the red tint making home on his cheeks again. By the time you look back up at him, it’s nearly gone and his eyes are roaming your apartment for the first time, obviously trying to take it in. “You can use the bathroom in my room for now, since Tae is notorious for taking forever in getting ready. We can go over living arrangements after, kay?”

With a shy nod and an actual tiny smile, Ares – no, Jeongguk – has your stomach fluttering as you quickly show him to where your room is and leave him to shower. Now standing alone in your kitchen, you let out a soft breath as you lean your forehead on the cool countertop, trying your best to wrap your mind around just exactly what occurred in the past 15 hours. With a shake of your head and a few small slaps to your cheeks, you get started on making some breakfast for all three of you while you push any doubts to the back of your head until you can get back to them in the darkness of your room later tonight.

You’d stupidly face the repercussions of your actions when they came, because you knew they would, just not now; but for the present time, you’d simply worry about making sure you had enough strawberries to dump onto Taehyung’s waffles.

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Wushu Watch: Dojo Storming for a Better Tomorrow

Style-versus-style remains one of the most attractive promises in combat sports. For some reason nothing is more interesting to the casual observer than fights that supposedly prove the superiority of one fighting style over another. Boxing versus MMA, karate versus kung fu, wrestling versus judo—you name it, someone has booked it and marketed it. Even in the modern UFC 'striker versus grappler' is still a compelling match up, despite training daily with top tier Brazilian Jiu Jitsu practitioners, Khabib Nurmagomedov can get people talking about 'sambo versus jiu jitsu', and of course fictional news about Conor McGregor versus Floyd Mayweather makes the headlines in publications that should know better every couple of weeks.

The dojo storming is a proud and silly tradition in style-versus-style debates, not just true styles but even sub styles of the same martial arts. For every Gracie family or Kano Jiu Jitsu dojo storming where an important and overlooked principle of combat is proven, there are a hundred that are just stupid beyond words. For examples of sublimely ridiculous dojo wars one need only read about the life of Count Juan Raphael Dante. Count Dante (who predictably was not a Count or Spanish) had various run ins with the Chicago Cobra Kai, supposedly had a friend murdered in a dojo storming, and was caught strapping dynamite caps to a rival dojo in 1965. When he died of a bleeding ulcer at just 36-years-old, Dim Mak rumours started flying.

For an example of the kind of disgusting, pig-headed stupidity that can be involved in this almost tribal dojo storming stuff you need only look up the footage of the Bobby J. Blythe incident wherein a mentally retarded man was supposedly beaten to death. The 'supposedly' is because conflicting stories have been drummed up in the aftermath, but you can readily watch the man have his head stomped into the floor on camera and be dragged out leaving a trail of blood after already verbally yielding long before. Video of the incident is available all over the Internet but as a fair warning: it is revolting and watching it will ruin your day. It is hard to find information about the aftermath but it seems as though nothing ever came of the video evidence of what seems to be at the least grievous bodily harm or even attempted murder.

Xu Xiaodong vs. Wei Lei

Style versus style challenge matches are back in the news this week as a retired MMA fighter named Xu Xiaodong met a Taichi master named Wei Lei in Chengdu for the honour of Chinese martial arts. Wei Lei was apparently the hot thing in Taichi since appearing on a Chinese documentary demonstrating chi-based magic tricks such as using a force field of chi to prevent a bird from leaving his hand. In the kung fu canon of street magic—and it is a grand tradition with an interesting history—that was a new one for this writer. As magical feats go it was also kind of underwhelming.

Apparently the populace believed it though, and why wouldn't they? Fighting is hard to appreciate and magic is not. The legendary Mas Oyama built his reputation on magic tricks and feats he learned as a performing strong man more than his actual fighting ability. It is well worth reading Jon Bluming's account of his time with Oyama and the many methods of 'monkey business' that Oyama used. The footage of Mas Oyama wrestling a bull seems remarkable but there is something off about it that you just can't put your finger on. Then you realize that it is just an old, dying ox that they then hit in the horn with a hammer until it was hanging so that Oyama could karate chop it off. This explains why the 'bull' at no point fights back and just wants to be left alone, and the video becomes a lot sadder. But that one piece of theatre on film was evidence enough that you will now regularly hear the story of how Oyama fought and killed almost thirty bulls with his bare hands in his lifetime.

Xu Xiaodong was apparently largely self-taught which is believable because mixed martial arts is still in its infancy in China. And doubly believable when you see that even against Wei Lei, who clearly has no clue how to carry himself, he runs straight past the Taichi master as the latter pivots off line by accidental instinct.

However, Xiaodong followed up with his running, lunging strikes and easily put Wei Lei down, following up with strikes on the ground for an easy knockout to a stunned silence from the crowd. The impetus for the fight was Xiaodong calling Chinese martial arts outdated and fake, and the results certainly helped his case. Now he is public enemy number one to the Chinese martial arts community and is attempting to hustle together money fights with professional boxers and the bodyguards of millionaires. One Chinese soft drink magnate has just offered a two million dollar bounty to any kung fu stylist who can beat Xiaodong, missing the point entirely by treating Xiaodong himself as the problem. Xiadong is not the problem and in fact he is completely unremarkable as a fighter. Beating him does not restore the honour of Chinese martial arts to anyone with an ounce of common sense. Xiaodong's victory over Wei Lei should instead be seen as a symptom of a focus on mysticism and a fear of actual feedback within the Chinese martial arts world.

Aliveness

Xu Xiaodong wasn't born a better fighter than Wei Lei or any other Chinese martial arts master. He became a better fighter by fighting, and that is the part that so many traditional martial arts purists struggle to deal with. A blacksmith learns to make horseshoes by making a thousand rubbish horseshoes. An artist learns to draw by trying his best a thousand times and producing nothing but fractionally improving garbage. Why would fighting be any different? You don't have to take professional fights to get better at fighting, but you do have to struggle against the will of other people regularly. This so called 'aliveness' in training is what makes people better and prepares people for the worst. But Wei Lei had a set idea of what he was going to do coming in and so did the famous kiai-jutsu master who was easily drubbed in a challenge match a few years back:

I don't know much about Xu Xiaodong or the fighter from the above clip, but I can guarantee you that they spent their first grappling session being smashed, their first boxing session unable to touch their opponent, and their first kickboxing session getting kicked in the leg whenever they had just missed a kick of their own. That is the real value of 'aliveness' in training, it prepares you for the absolute worst and builds you from the ground up. Dominick Cruz goes into a fight looking to stay off the fence, but he knows what to do if and when he gets there. A kiai master finds out that he cannot paralyze his opponent with his shout in the opening seconds and then what is there? When the opening gambit fails for a man who has been repeatedly promised that his non-fighting training will making him unbeatable in a fight, it undermines ten to twenty years of belief he has placed in magic. What would be a minor setback becomes an all-out crisis of faith. But when something goes wrong for someone who trains with people better than him, day in and day out, it is just a mild inconvenience that necessitates a quick tactical adjustment. In the aftermath of the Wei Lei – Xu Xiaodong 'superfight', Lei is apparently claiming that he held back his true internal strength for fear of killing Xiaodong. We can only hope that this is an embarrassing attempt to save face and not something that Wei Lei actually tells himself to rationalize his inability to fight.

But that is the real shame about challenge matches like these, and the reason it can be hard to get joy out of them. Real charlatans don't agree to challenge matches publicly and invite the press along. Men claiming to have the death touch or the 'answer' to MMA are a dime a dozen, but you won't see many backed into the corner of actually proving it. When a no touch knockout master fails to make someone fall down in a careful demonstration, there are zero repercussions with the believers—maybe he had a bad lunch or something. But the fact that Wei Lei and the kiaijutsu master actually drummed up the interest, set the date and turned up to prove their art suggests that they aren't knowingly running a scam and stealing people's money for techniques that don't work. It means that they themselves actually believe in what someone else sold them. When you look at it like that it is hard not to feel bad for these men.

Dojo Storming for the Better

Style-versus-style fights have served their purpose. While James Toney versus Randy Couture in the UFC and Conor McGregor versus Floyd Mayweather in a boxing ring will tell the experienced fan or practitioner nothing at all about their 'styles', there have been style-versus-style fights that change the way we practice martial arts. When Jigoro Kano was advocating a style of jiu jitsu which abandoned more dangerous techniques in order to allow more free sparring or ' randori', he and his students were able to prove not the superiority of Kano's 'style', but the superiority of his practice methods and philosophy. When the Gracie's were storming dojos and winning vale tudo tournaments the lesson learned was not really that 'Gracie Jiu Jitsu' is the best martial art, but that ground fighting is an enormously important and undervalued element of fighting generally.

Wushu Watch: Dojo Storming for a Better TomorrowOn the other hand, however, it is a good thing that these campaigns were not entirely successful. There were plenty of taekwondo or karate practitioners who saw the Gracies In Action tapes and quit their art thinking it was useless in a real fight because at the time it seemed to be the truth. In the modern era techniques and principles from karate, taekwondo, and a dozen other arts are changing fights at the highest levels of MMA. The absorbing of ideas and testing them is what makes a martial artist, not whose flag or gi patch he's sporting. Certainly there is value in examining the old if only for the inspiration it provides. Studying classical forms and texts is an excellent past time for the bored or injured martial artist. The old Chinese text The Bubishi contains some remarkably solid ideas about fighting and self-defence, but also contains a heap of disproven nonsense about the death touch, chi meridians, and alchemy. Who knows, maybe one day chi will be proven to exist and effectively weaponized—but no one is going to do it without testing it day in and day out against resisting, competent sparring partners. Whether someone believes in chi balls or not is relatively unimportant: the fact that there are apparently still hordes of angry Chinese martial artists who believe they can fight without meeting an ounce of resistance or adversity in the gym is extremely disappointing.

Wushu Watch: Dojo Storming for a Better Tomorrow published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv