#bare knuckles fistfighting

[pancrasefighter69]

Bare knuckles fistfighting. Bloody, brutal, and effective.

[cyber-corp]

Reblog for a bigger sample size.

[shaunamilfman]

to be felled by you

pairing: shauna shipman x reader summary: What started out as a fistfight in the middle of the woods might actually manage to bring you together as you work out your differences in a more pleasurable way. note: smut but theres like fr descriptions of violence before it

“Shauna,” you snapped, jerking your arm away from her grasp as she dragged you off into the trees. You follow a step behind her as you let her lead you away, already having half an idea what this was about. If she wanted to do this, you sure as hell weren’t going to stop her. 

Shauna finally whirls around, turning to face you quickly enough that you stumble into her. You can feel both of her hands on your shoulders before she sends you stumbling backward. You hit the ground with a surprised grunt, staring up at the stars as you try to figure out how you got here. You press up with your elbows as you look up at her, slowly sitting up as Shauna glares down at you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You huff, slowly making your way to your feet as you keep your eyes focused on her. You knew she was angry, and when Shauna was angry she made it everyone else’s problem. This was going to get explosive.

The two of you are locked in a standoff as you glare at each other from a few feet away. You brush the dirt off of your elbows, disgruntled and more than a little confused. You’re still not entirely sure what this is even about, but you weren’t in the best of moods to begin with. 

Hitting the dirt certainly didn’t help.

Shauna’s eyes were intense and cruel, her jaw clenched in a way that told you she was seething. Her hands were clenched tight, a slight tremble to them as she struggles to get ahold of her temper. You try to keep yourself calm, but you’re starting to realize that’s just as much of a losing battle for you as it clearly is for her.

“Is this about earlier, Shauna?” you ask, slow and cautious. “We can still talk about it. We don’t have to do this.”

You’re not sure if you could keep that promise, but it’s even more unlikely that Shauna would even go for it. It made you feel slightly better to offer it, anyway. Shauna didn’t want a calm, rational conversation, you knew. She didn’t want to talk it out with you, she just wanted to hit you. She needed the fight.

She scoffs, a bitter smile telling you what she thinks of that idea. “You always do this,” she accuses. “Acting like just talking can fix everything.” 

“What do you want, Shauna? A fight? Fine.”

“You followed me all the way out here,” she accuses. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know what it was about.”

Shauna clenches her fists, her knuckles turning white as she shifts just enough that you start to raise your guard. You slowly mirror her, muscles tense and ready as you watch her face. She’s always been so expressive, her face showing every little thought that runs through her head. It’s a wonder it doesn’t get her in trouble more, as you can tell from the set of her jaw exactly when she’s made her mind up about swinging on you.

She swings at you with a wild punch that just misses as you take a reflexive step back. Her knuckle just barely grazes your jaw, leaving her slightly off balance as you retaliate with a shove. Shauna grunts as her back hits the tree, the impact sending a shock through her body as her eyes widen. 

You watch her as she catches her breath, a wild look in her eyes as you raise your arms defensively. With a snarl she pushes off the tree, on you again in a heartbeat. You just barely manage to sidestep, scraping your arm up something fierce on the tree for your efforts as you grab her arm and twist it behind her back. 

The sound she makes is barely human, filled with rage and sending shivers down your spine. Her back is pressed flush against you for a moment, the two of you frozen in a twisted sort of embrace before she kicks back at your shin. It lands with a painful thud, nearly taking your breath away with the sudden sharp pain as you have to resist the urge to grab at your leg.

Her elbow finds your ribs, forcing you to step back as the simple act of breathing becomes painful. You lash out, landing a desperate blow against the side of her face as you create some distance to catch your breath.

Damn, could she throw a punch. Not that you ever doubted it.

Her hand slowly reaches up to her face, her eyes narrowing as her fingers come away slick with blood. Shauna looks dangerous, almost feral, as she slowly cocks her head to the side to study you. She takes a step forward, grinning as you take a step back. Her blood is dripping down into her teeth, turning the look into something nightmarish as she advances.

Springing forward out of the blue, she takes the both of you to the floor in a mess of limbs and flailing punches. Anger fuels you, overriding any hesitations you have about rolling around with her in the dirt.

You manage to pin her for a moment, your forearm pressed against her throat as she glares up at you. Her teeth snap as she tries to bite at your outstretched arm, a move that didn’t much surprise you considering just who you had beneath you.

“Is this what you wanted, Shauna?” you hissed, pressing down just lightly enough to avoid actually choking her. Her eyes flicker with something other than rage for just a second before she manages to throw you off balance with a sudden buck of her hips. 

The smell of the earth and leaves fills your nostrils, the sound of cracking sticks punctuating the air as the two of you roll through the underbrush. You cry out as she finally lands a hit, turning your head with the force of it as your vision spins. 

For a while, all you know is rage, consumed with the need to hurt her more than she hurt you. It's clear she feels the same, that her anger is the only thing holding her up as you punch her wherever is closest. 

You get a few hits to her face, more slaps than anything with how much you struggle to get any real distance to swing, before she yanks at your hair. It stings more than you thought it would, sparing only a passing thought to how fucking petty hair-pulling is before you reach up and start bending her finger away.

She lets go quickly, a muffled yelp leaving her mouth at the threat of you actually doing serious damage to her finger otherwise. You take her distraction for what it is, finally managing to get enough leverage to get up on your knees above her as you pin her wrists above her head. Breathing heavily, you look down at her, her body still twisting and thrashing as she tries to get you off of her.

Shauna’s panting heavily, the rise and fall of her chest a distracting motion that you force yourself to turn away from as you finally get a real look at her. Her hair looks messy, tangled with leaves and the remnants of broken sticks from the forest floor. Her face isn’t much better, smeared with dirt and blood as it trickles slowly down her face from her nose. 

The sight of her, bruised and battered, is more distracting than you’d anticipated. It's intoxicating having Shauna underneath you like this, pinned and unable to do anything about it. 

She's thrashing beneath you, more like a wild animal than you'd ever seen her. You're sure that she could get you back off of her if she tried hard enough, so it has to be somewhat of a deliberate choice. 

Her face is flushed with anger, and something else that you can’t quite name. There’s a flicker of something else in her eyes, just long enough for it to catch your attention.

Her face, betraying her once again. She struggles beneath you; her face just inches from yours, giving you an up close look as your heavy breaths mingle together. Your grip on her wrists loosens just the slightest as you lean closer and closer. Shauna falters as your warm breath reaches her lips, searching your face for some kind of understanding. 

You wonder if she's going to kiss you or kill you. 

You almost pull away as she leans forward, afraid she's just going to bite you. And she does, hard. But not nearly as hard as she can, not hard enough to break the skin. 

She holds your lip between her teeth, just long enough for you to understand the threat of it before she soothes it with her tongue. 

The line slowly starts to blur between you, and before you know it you’ve both leaned in. The kiss was another battle within itself, all teeth and tongues and raw anger as you fight for control. Hands that were once weapons are now used as tools, both of you intending to make the other break first. The urgency that underlies your fight has shifted, a new desire taking its place.

You're not sure what's wrong with you, why you'd kiss a girl that was just trying to hurt you. But you can't pull yourself away. 

Won't even try to. 

She’s possessive, claiming every inch of you for herself. She finally slips out of your hands, making you readjust your position as she starts feeling you up. There’s nothing gentle about her touch, all passion and hunger that borders on obsession. Shauna wants to devour you, and you’re not about to put up a fight.

The rough feeling of the forest floor beneath your knees grounds you, something painfully sharp digging into your knee and keeping you solely in the moment even as your head spins.

Shauna’s hands make their way back into your hair, not to injure, but instead to draw you closer as you slip your cold hands up Shauna’s shirt. You break apart for air, both gasping heavily once again, but this time her eyes were dark with lust instead of just anger. You come together again without a word exchanged, fight forgotten as you press tightly against each other.

The taste of blood and dirt mixes with the intensity of the kiss, but you can’t bring yourself to deny yourself for even a moment. Shauna’s hands roam your back, her fingers digging in just enough to leave marks, a physical reminder of what’s gone down. You break away with a cry of pain as she drags her nails down your back, a look of possessive glee on her face as you rest your forehead against hers.

“Watch those,” you mutter, truly not that put out about it. 

Shauna shrugs, moving her lips to your jaw in lieu of an apology. She trails hot kisses down your neck, insistent as she rolls her hips up against yours. Her teeth dig in just enough to leave a mark, leaving a trail of bruises that will be hell to hide. Shauna’s hands tangle in your hair as she tilts your head back, exposing more skin to mark up. 

Your hands roam her body with a desperation you’d never admit to, needing to memorize every curve and dip of her body. The fight has completely melted away, replaced with a need to be close, to feel her body against yours. You capture her lips again, slower this time, wanting to savor the taste of her. You can feel every inch of her against you, her shirt riding up with your hands.

The kiss is every bit as intense without the underlying anger. Shauna’s hands move to cup your face, brushing the dirt away from your cheeks as she arches up against you.

You pull away with a laugh, amused despite yourself at her impatience. The sight of her face doesn’t help much, the blood on her face now utterly unflattering now that it’s been smeared everywhere. You’re sure you look about the same as Shauna’s lips twitch in turn. 

She lets out a frustrated sigh as she glares, her head dropping back against the ground in irritation. Her eyes follow the movement of your lips, not at all appreciating the separation. She’s annoyed that you aren’t kissing her still, finally sitting up as she shrugs off her flannel. You bat her hands away as she reaches for the hem of her shirt, wanting to take it off yourself as you slowly expose the sweat-slicked skin beneath.

Shauna’s eyes follow your hands as they slowly skim her sides, feeling the curves of her torso. Her skin was warm and smooth, muscles toned from years of soccer. She lets out a ragged breath as you reach higher, the heat of her skin searing into your palms even through her bra as you cup her chest. Her eyes flutter shut as she leans into your hands, allowing you to stare unashamedly at her as she responds to your touch.

Her hands roam your back, impatient as she tugs at the fabric of your shirt. You raise your arms reluctantly, pulling away from her skin to let her pull it over your head.

It’s like she can’t get it off quick enough, almost yanking it over your shoulders in her haste to see you. She immediately narrows in on the bruise she left forming your ribs, running her fingertips lightly over it. You quickly redirect her attention as you start to lay her back down, not wanting her to get any ideas about applying pressure to it.

You hit the ground with a huff as she reverses your position, suddenly smug as she looks down at you. Her triumphant expression is infuriating, her eyes glinting with a mixture of victory and amusement. You shift uncomfortably, sitting up to brush away the rock digging into your skin that you're sure she took great care to flip you on top of. Her thighs hug one of yours, the warmth and pressure a constant reminder of her as your hands settle on her hips. 

She's got a lazy smile on her face that you know promises trouble, opening her mouth to say something you're sure is appropriately cutting before you decide to give her a taste of her own medicine. 

Shauna lets out a surprised squeak as you bite her for once, blushing so hard you can feel it against your face as you worry the skin of her neck between your teeth. A deep, shuddery breath marks the action, her hand coming up to hold you against her skin rather than push you away. Her grip is firm, possessive, a clear sign that she doesn’t want you to stop.

You can feel how excited it’s made her, her pulse thrumming beneath your teeth as you let go. She inhales sharply as you run your tongue along the length of the mark before soothing it with kisses as her fingers tighten in your hair. Her lazy smile has been wiped from her face, replaced with a look of intense desire almost bordering on awe.

There’s a deep, painful looking bruise on her neck that makes her thighs squeeze around yours as she presses her fingers against it. There would be no hiding that one, which you're sure is part of the appeal. What you wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall as she tries to explain that to Jackie Taylor. 

“Is this what you wanted, Shauna?” You repeat, your voice tinged with a mixture of desire and a lingering defiance. 

Once again, she doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she pulls you into another kiss before trailing her way down to your shoulder. Her teeth scrape over your shoulder before she bites you again; not too hard, just enough for it to show. She makes sure you can feel her there, her arms resting over your shoulders as she holds you in place, her breath hot against your skin.

You rest your hands on her hips, slowly, deliberately, rocking her onto your thigh in a move she's eager to assist with. Her body moves in sync with yours, creating an intoxicating rhythm as she rides your thigh. She kisses the mark she's left, her tongue flicking out to soothe the skin before lightly nibbling at it.

Her hands splay out against your back, fingers spread wide as they flex into your skin. The friction sends a jolt of pleasure through you both, her forehead resting against your shoulder as she moves against you. Her breath comes out in quick, shallow bursts as you drag her down harder against your thigh. 

“Yeah,” she breathes out. “This is what I wanted.” Her skin is slick with sweat, her muscles flexing and relaxing beneath your touch. She pauses as you pull away, taking a moment to admire the bruise forming on your skin. A little shiver of delight goes through her, a sigh following it as you’re finally out of biting range.

She starts to follow you down before reconsidering as you tug her hips forward. There’s a curious look on her face as she scoots up, her eyes widening suddenly as she realizes what you want. Her hands play at the button of her jeans before quickly agreeing, almost falling over herself in her eagerness to get out of them.

Shauna presses her hands against your chest, swinging one leg over your torso in one fluid motion as she straddles you. You gasp at the feeling of her bare against your stomach, your hands grabbing instinctively at her thighs as she rolls her hips against you. Her knees dig into your sides, a purposeful squeeze that has you short for breath.

She slowly made her way up your chest, guaranteeing she had your attention as she positioned herself. Her thighs framed your face, raising up to let you reposition yourself as she stares down at you. You squeeze her skin beneath your fingers, your thumb pressing into the muscles of her thighs appreciatively.

Your hands tighten around her thighs as she lowers herself to your face. She sighs at the first tentative touch of your tongue, groaning as you dig your fingertips in to drag her closer. The pressure of her thighs against your shoulders has you sighing against her skin, lapping at her eagerly the second she gets in reach.

Shauna gasps as your tongue delves deep inside her, making her squirm as you circle her entrance. You keep up the pace, slow and measured as you drive her wild. Her back arches as she tries to hold back the moan, quickly overwhelmed by your attention.

You think you could get addicted to this: the taste of her, the little sounds that leave her mouth, the way her muscles tremble as she struggles to keep still, the way her fingers bury themselves in your hair as her back arches. She’s so wet against your mouth, you can already feel her dripping down your face.

Shauna blushes at the wet slurping noises as you eat her out, her thighs trembling as your tongue dances around her sensitive spots.

“Fuck,” she whispers. You’re ruthlessly attentive, hands gripping her tightly to hold her in place as you devour her. You finally let go of her, only to slap her hands away as she tries to slip her hand between her thighs.

The sight of her, flushed and desperate as you look up at her from between her thighs, has you moaning into her. Her hips jerk and the sensation of your tongue brushing against her clit has her gasping, instinctively rolling her hips before she catches herself. Her nails dig into your scalp, her thighs tightening around your head as she tilts her hips up in a silent plea for more.

You tease her clit with quick, deft flicks of your tongue. Her back arches as she moans, her grip on your hair becoming painful as you taste her. She tentatively rocks her hips forward, quickly making her own rhythm at your lack of protests. 

You let her control the pace, let her dig her nails into your scalp as her body tenses. She’s achingly beautiful above you, flushed and desperate.

The sound of her need mixes with her ragged breath, a soft whine leaving her lips as she becomes more erratic. Shauna’s so close you can feel it, her body quivering as she starts to reach the edge. 

You can’t help but delight in her loss of control, the way she bites her lip to stop from crying out, the way her hands drop from your hair as you drive her wild.

She pulls your fingers away from her skin as she laces your fingers together, holding onto your hands for purchase as her hips move with your mouth. She cries out your name as she comes, her whole body shuddering as her hips stutter out her release.

Shauna collapses back on your chest, your hands pulling away from hers to support her thighs as the weight of her starts to become too much. Her thighs are still trembling as she pulls away, settling on her knees next to you as you sit up.

Her eyes are laser focused on your face, biting at her lip as she wipes her thumb across your lower face. It comes away wet, a mixture of your blood and her arousal that she slowly licks away. She leans down, sharing the taste between you as she captures your lips again.

“Please,” you mumble against her lips, holding her face ever so gently between your hands. You want more, or you want her. It's all the same thing, really. 

… 

“I’m sorry,” you say after a while, turning your head to look at her.

She turns to give you a confused look, her lips quirking into a smile. 

“I didn’t realize you liked Jackie when I was talking her up earlier.”

Shauna snorts, face turning red, before burning her face into your shoulder as she shakes with laughter. 

“You’re so stupid,” she chokes out, slapping lightly at your chest as she wheezes from how hard she’s laughing.

“What?”

“It was you, idiot.”

Oh. Oh.

“Well–”

[friendlyneighbourhoodelf]

hello I’m back again and I’d like to know more about ‘fellas is it gay to fistfight’ from the wip game please!!

hello again!! this fic is for the codywan week prompt about subtle/witty banter and is really just self-indulgent, because i like reading flirty fight scenes so wanted to write one. there'll be some kind of plot, but i haven't quite figured it out (its a getting together fic with fighting. that's it really)

here's the section for which the fic is named -

Obi-Wan was stripping off his heavy outer robes, placing them in a neatly folded pile on the opposite side of the mat to Cody’s already abandoned armour. He began wrapping his knuckles and Cody stared, just a little, at the way his pale hands flexed with movement.

“Ready to give them a show, my dear?” Obi-Wan was grinning, challenge dancing in his eyes. Cody noted that most of the men in the room had, with varying degrees of subtly, abandoned their own training to watch as the two men prepared to fight.

Cody pulled his teeth into a slow grin, baring his teeth just a little, “Only if you can keep up.”

Obi-Wan stretched, the upward motion of his arms pulling his body taut. Cody stared. He knew Obi-Wan knew exactly what he was doing, the bastard. What was worse, however, was that it was working.

In answer, Cody moved onto the mat, he made a show of beckoning Obi-Wan forward. “Come on then.”

Obi-wan stepped forward to meet him. His eyes glinting, he said, “Your move, Commander.”

He grinned in answer, dropping into a low stance.

For a moment, they circled each other. By now, they’d fought enough that it was primarily for show, they both knew Cody would make the first move. He drew out the waiting more than he usually would, allowing the chatter from the men around them to crescendo. Then he struck. He swung his leg up to meet Obi-Wan’s face. It sailed over his head, the Jedi ducking back just in time. Cody followed his arching body with his eyes.

When Obi-Wan righted himself, he was grinning. He brought his own fist up to meet Cody’s chest, and he easily slipped out of its way. Neither truly intended these early hits to land, they were warming up, slipping into the rhythm of the fight.

Cody moved, feinting left, then bring his fist up to meet Obi-Wan’s shoulder. A hiss of pain at the contact. A cheer rippled through the surrounding troopers.

“Nice hit, Commander.”

Cody briefly nodded his head in acknowledgement, his eyes following every shift of Obi-Wan’s body. He caught the moment the other man moved, slipping into Cody’s space before he had time to escape backwards. They traded blows for a moment, and Cody felt the telltale sensation of blood on his lip.

A kick from Obi-Wan sent him stumbling backwards, and Obi-Wan took advantage of it, catching Cody’s arm and throwing him to the ground.

He gasped as his back hit the mat, above him Obi-Wan was panting just a little, red just beginning to flush his face. Cody smirked up at him, “Feeling confident?”

Before Obi-Wan could respond, Cody headbutted him, using the forward momentum to push himself up. Obi-Wan staggered back but remained upright as Cody surged forwards. Obi-Wan dodged him, once, twice. The third time Cody caught his jaw and Obi-Wan gasped. The sound sent a thrill through Cody.

Obi-Wan moved backwards, circling him. Cody allowed him a moment to recover.

“My dear, with you I’d never dare.”

“Good.” He moved fast, catching Obi-Wan’s arm and holding it behind his back. “Wouldn’t want you to get caught off guard.”

Obi-Wan dropped, using Cody’s grip to pull them both to the ground. He struggled against Cody, then, when Cody’s grip remained strong, went limp in his arms.

Cody breathed against his neck, “I think I win.”

He felt as a shiver rippled through Obi-Wan.

[freeuselandonorris]

DVD bonus for I say you’ll live without it!!!! >:)

hahaha welllll i walked right into that one really didn't i!

okay FINE you can have the post-monza fallout scene 😘 but you won't get any resolution! or any dialogue, apparently.

Oscar’s face is colder than he’s ever seen it afterwards. 

He’d barely acknowledged Lando in the cooldown room. They’d kept their distance on the podium, neither wanting the champagne and celebrations. Their press teams keep them carefully apart in the pen. 

When he gets back to the garage, he looks at Oscar, sitting stiff-backed and pale at one end of the conference table they use for trackside debriefs. Kim and Tom flank him, stony-faced. 

Lando looks long enough that Oscar must feel his gaze, or maybe he just glances up, and Lando happens to be there. His expression doesn’t flicker. It’s like Lando’s not there at all. He’s staring at the garage wall behind him, at the McLaren decal, at nothing much at all.

He’d thought maybe Oscar was starting to get over it, the anger. He’s been good at not letting it show, to the media at least. To the team, even. Better than Lando has, although when he’d said that, posed as an admittance, Oscar’s face had twisted into a sneer and he’d said well, what the fuck have you got to be angry about anyway?

As if it had been out of the blue. As if Lando hadn’t been – well. Provoked is a strong word. 

Nothing gets solved in the debrief. They must behave themselves well enough that their handlers aren’t worried about a fistfight in the pitlane though, because they’re allowed to leave at the same time, not taken out of separate exits or any of the other pointlessly dramatic stage management.

They end up standing next to each other in the VIP car park, waiting for their cars to be valeted round and bags loaded in. Oscar’s a couple of feet away, still studiously acting like Lando doesn’t exist. A couple of feet away, Lily is staring at her phone, the sleeves of her cardigan pulled over her hands despite the heat. They’re getting the same flight back, presumably. The same one Lando will be on, carefully angling his body away to stare out of the window or make artificially breezy conversation with Alex. Oscar will do what he’s been doing on all their flights recently: sleeping, or pretending to. 

Oscar’s face is like something carved from stone. If Lando hit him, he’d break his knuckles. If he kissed him, he’d get nothing in return. He looks older, suddenly, tired in a way Lando associates with real adults, like the emotional weight of the last few months has aged him beyond his years.  I did that to you, Lando thinks with no small satisfaction. He feels empty, a sensation like hunger only worse. They could keep at this for ever, taking and taking from each other until all that remains is honed and deadly: a pair of blades ground down so fine, it'll barely hurt when they break skin.

[sunflowerkiwis]

Drama Queen

You tend to Harry’s wounds after a small fight

word count: 628, she’s short and sweet

tw: mentions of fighting, needles (sewing), a couple swear words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ow.”

“Calm down, you big baby.”

Harry flinched again and hissed at the stinging alcohol against his knuckle. “‘M not a baby,” he muttered under his breath.

“Sure,” you rolled your eyes, but with the thickness in your voice, it sounded more like ‘shore’. You were… disappointed, to say the least. “You wouldn’t be flinching and hissing if you weren’t such an idiot.”

Harry stilled.

Your words came out harsher than you intended them to. You didn’t mean to hurt him, but then again, all words came from somewhere and you both knew that.

Looking up, you could see his hurting eyes, reflecting yours. “I’m sorry,” you placed a hand on his cheek. Your hand was cold due to the alcohol in the cool bathroom air. “I’m just… I don’t know—I’m confused, H. You’re not violent, you think things through. I guess I’m disappointed,” you looked down at his cut knuckles and nudged at his hand, “Where’d this come from?”

This—the rash decisions, the impulsive pull of his arm, the harsh contact of his fist with probably another man’s face. It wasn’t like him.

“‘Dunno.” Harry looked down at his feet, hanging from the counter, like a scolded puppy. His voice lowered, “He was talking about you.” He, some guy you’d barely met from Harry’s management.

You tilted your head. Talking about you?

“He—fuck,” he winced as you padded his knuckles with alcohol again, “he was talking shit about you and saying stuff… bad stuff.”

“What’s ‘bad stuff’, Lovie?” You didn’t have to look up to see the hesitancy in his face.

“Don’t wanna hurt your feelings…”

You smirked. “Well it ain’t gonna hurt me more than him,” you let out a light chuckle.

The corner of Harry’s mouth turned up, not at the joke, but at the sound of your laugh. Although, it went away as soon as he realized there wasn’t a way to avoid this—not with your persistence and determination.

“He… he said you don’t deserve me and you’re—” his gaze moved from your face to his lap. From the corner of your eye, you could tell he was hurt too. “—that you’re ‘just some dirty chick who’s looking for money’.”

You threw away the alcohol pad and reached for a medical kit your mom had given you under the sink. Harry took a deep breath, bracing himself, remembering he still had a bad cut in his cheekbone that needed tending to. Your mom was a nurse and she’d given you this in case of emergencies, when you were younger she’d taught you lots of medical things like how to properly clean wounds and how to throw some stitches one, too. It was time to put those skills to use. You were always thankful for her and everything she taught and did for you. You always knew you’d need it someday, you just never thought you’d use these skills to help Harry recover from a literal fistfight.

“Jackass,” you said under your breath, standing up.

“Yeah,” Harry observed as you got everything ready. “I don’t know how it happened, it went by really fast. Just felt my fist hurting when it hit his face and then he hit me back. It’s all kind of a blur but then I kicked him out and came upstairs to you.”

You’d heard some loud, muffled words from downstairs, but you couldn’t tell if it was them shouting or a show they were watching, as you were watching one of your own in the bedroom and keeping to yourself.

He flinched when you brought the needle close to his face and your raised your eyebrows in a scowl at him. “H, I haven’t done anything—and you’re numbed.”

He gave you a sheepish look. “I thought it’d hurt.”

“Drama Queen.”

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #5: Stamp

It was raining.

He pointedly ignored the footsteps behind him. They, in their kindness, pointedly did not speak up. Not that there was much to hear over the storm that intensified over their heads. To everyone else it was a moment to hole up, to wait, to keep their heads down in the outskirts. To him it was a sign. A bad one. Good. The electrope tether hummed in his hands as he spun the end of it in rote motion. How far up, this time? His practiced eyes spotted anchor points all the way up the structure. Checking them off like they were a puzzle to solve, like something one might work on over a morning coffee. There wasn’t any need for the shorter hops today. No point in taking a path with the handholds and stopping spots close together. That would be for The tether slammed into the ground as his fist met stone. The blood dripped down his knuckles; the rain washed it off. The pain hadn’t arrived yet, but it was no mercy there. He looked at the exposed, sliced flesh. He flexed his hand, over and over, as if he could grip the half-formed memory that got away from him. Okay. It’s fine. It’s fine. Ignore the extra set of footsteps behind you that’re the wrong ones His other fist hit the stone. Then he picked up his tether.

Putting his climbing claws and boots on was a bit more difficult now. He appreciated the extra time to get rained on, at least, while he was still on the ground. It felt therapeutic in a way that little else could. Indulging in misery in the preparation for something that was supposed to bring him joy. Indulging in rage as his manufactured claws bit into the same stone that he’d used to draw his blood. Better than a fistfight he knew he’d lose. Better than a conversation with someone who understood. The wrong footsteps were still down there. He punched his way through an old window, shattering it in tune to a thunderclap as he hauled his way inside. Even now he couldn’t help but evaluate the insides for valuables, for safety, for picking out the interesting things to give as examples He slumped against the wall. He landed in the shards. He could feel them cut him through his gear. He knew he’d have to clean himself up. Who knew what was on these old windowpanes. He could get infected. …It was so hard to care. Or, rather, he wished it was. He wished it was. That was half the problem, wasn’t it? Forgetting made it so easy to lose your grip on all the other emotions from it. Forgetting made it so easy to pretend everything was fine. It was hard to let his hate pull him down like gravity when it could find no purchase on him. When hate had no barbs with which to anchor. When pain could barely substitute. Self flagellation barely got him anywhere besides a response of hoping it didn’t get infected.

He shifted to bring his bag around to his side. Fished in it for a long moment as if to pretend he didn’t know each and every pocket in it and where everything was- even if he’d thrown it around in a rage before. Even if he’d realized things were missing His bloodied fist closed around a piece of metal and electrope. His regulator flashed to life in the wake of a thunderclap as he held it up in the dark room. But his eyes weren’t on it. A shadow in the lightning flash. “…Galena,” Came the voice of the wrong footsteps. That soft, diffuse green glow of a presence that he’d wished stayed on the ground. The gentle and kind hand that reached out with a comforting touch- His tether snapped taut and yanked him to his feet before it could. Before his eyes could fall on the other. She wasn’t who he wanted to see. That wasn’t the name he wanted to hear She knew it, too. He climbed back out into the rain.

He couldn’t remember reaching the top. It had been struck relatively recently. The old infrastructure not meant to take direct bolts like that, not meant to sustain that kind of damage. Frankly it was impressive the building was still upright with a giant hole blown in the top of it. The rain could get in now. Rot the insides, rust them and corrode them, and slowly warp the structure until it would slam into the earth without warning. He wondered how long it would take. He stared at the regulator in his hand. He wondered how long it would take.

The heel of his boot crunched something metal and worn. The sparks caught like lightning against the wet stone. Like a poor mimicry of rage. Like a half-thought copy of something real. Slop made by a rusted mind. He anchored his tether to the one last support column that could handle his weight.

He leapt from the tower.

[meninfull]

[liverpool-enjoyer]

i want jesse winker to start a bare knuckle fistfight during the phillies series

[pancrasefighter69]

Bare knuckles fistfighting. Brutal man to man fighting. No bulky gloves for these fighters.

[katsigian]

🎨 for valen

Thank you bunches for the ask ♡ from this ask game!

❝ send  🎨  for  a  moodboard  of  my  muses  hobbies ❞

𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖘 // my hobbies? nothing too special. just things that are distracting and let me 𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨

Valen's hobbies tend to be things that keep him very active. He much prefers movement and exertion over stillness and quiet. The only exception to that rule is his drawing hobby; Valen is an artist and when he's working on a sketch or a draft is about the only time that he can sit still for long periods. He's got very steady hands and likes designing architecture - specifically larger buildings, such as banks and churches, in a more modern, complex style.

Valen's other hobbies include

Surfing/swimming - he's very talented at both and spending a full day out on the beach/in the water is like heaven to him. He loves the ocean. When he's not actively messing around in the water, he's laid out on the sand relaxing or looking around for neat rocks, shells, or sea glass.

Sparring/training martial arts - Valen's been fighting since he was 13 years old and is very talented in a handful of styles, namely the ones he can use in a real fight. So, Valen usually practices ones like kickboxing, krav maga, and jujitsu. While he does spend a lot of time in a training ring, he also fights often in an underground combat ring. It's a little illegal, but he enjoys the bare knuckle fights; the aggressive physicality is good for him. Is it healthy? Maybe not, but he won't be attending therapy anytime soon. A consensual fistfight is as good as it gets.

Working out - very self explanatory, and good for multiple things; keeps him fit, helps him get out of his own head, and gets some energy out.

❝ If you'd like to see more of my OC inspirations and aesthetics, my pinterest is here ♡ ❞

[gobblinhours]

the part of my brain that wants marina to be the villain of side order is in a bare-knuckle fistfight with the side of my brain that doesnt.

[owlbearwrites]

WIP Wednesday (24/07, part 2)

Catching up with last week's asks!

All snippets from Shadows, a Borderlands/Don't Starve crossover, heavily Rhack-centric, but also featuring Angel!

CW: non-graphic, but violent fistfight

@eriquin

“Uh. ‘evening, kiddo.” Jack raises a hand in a tentative greeting. The next thing he knows, there is a fist flying into his face. “Whoa!” Jack ducks out of the way of the punch, just in time for Rhys’s attack to land a glancing blow on his shoulder instead of crashing straight into his jaw. “Hey, hey, we don’t need to—UGH!” Before he can finish the sentence, Rhys spins around and slams a fist into his stomach. This one lands dead on, causing Jack to drop his bag and double over. He coughs, or tries to, to get his breath back.

@1attheedge

“Okay… okay!” he manages, one hand thrust in front of him, palm open and, hopefully, placating. “I deserved—kheh—that one. But can we—ow—talk now? Maybe?” Rhys closes the distance between them, grabs the lapels of Jack’s coat and drags him upright so their faces are level, and only a few inches apart. “I’ve heard enough of your goddamned talking,” he hisses, teeth baring into a snarl, “for a goddamned lifetime!”

@scifikimmi

There’s nothing Jack can do to evade the next hit. Except squeeze his eyes shut and then, a second later, try not to bite his own tongue off as he hits the ground. His teeth haven’t even stopped rattling from the impact yet when Rhys is upon him, landing punches without rhyme or reason. Twenty years ago, Jack would’ve been able to give as good as he was getting; the way things are, his best bet is dodging what hits he can, blocking the ones he can’t, and hoping that Rhys will tire himself out before any teeth get knocked out, or bones broken.

@aparticularbandit

A few poorly-timed blocks later, Jack is reconsidering his strategy, as Rhys appears to have all the energy and ferocity of a rabid squirrel. Not to mention that he—rather unsportingly!—definitely does not shy away from using his still-animated prosthetic arm just as much as the real one. “Hey!” Jack snarls, barely managing to catch a blow from the wooden knuckles on his arm instead of chin. “I was the one who put magic into that blasted arm of yours, you little shit!” He uses a momentary pause in Rhys’s attack to grab the arm in question. “How about some goddamned professional courtesy, huh?”

@post-and-out

“Oh, where are my fucking manners?” Rhys spits. He yanks his arm free and grabs Jack by his front again. “You want my thanks, Carter? Here it comes! This”—he slams Jack’s shoulders into the ground—“is for teaching me how to make infernal machinery that almost killed me! This”—a short lift, another slam—“is for giving me the unique opportunity to go on an expedition that has actually killed me, at least three times! This—” “Fine!” Jack tries to pry Rhys’s hands off of him. “You’ve made your point! Enough is enough.” “Oh, you don’t get to tell me when enough is enough, Carter.” Rhys shakes his head, nostrils flared. “You don’t get to tell me anything anymore. We’ll be done when I say we’re done! And I still haven’t decided if you’ll even still be alive by that point!”

@lizhly

”Okay.” Jack holds out his hands, palms out. “You want to keep yelling at me, fine. You want to keep whaling on me, even though by this point you’re just beating on an old man? Fine. But may I suggest we take this closer to the fire? Because the light is going, fast, and at this rate, even if you kill me, you won’t live long enough to enjoy it.” “Oh, don’t give me this crock!” Rhys scowls. “‘You’ve got to stay out of the darkness, kiddo’, ‘there are powerful beings in this realm, kiddo’,” he sing-songs, in a terrible imitation of Jack. “That only worked when I didn’t know that the powers, and the monsters, and the darkness, and everything I was supposed to be afraid of in this nightmare land is all just your DAUGHTER!”

@madnessfromthemountains

“You… you’ve met Angel?” Jack raises himself on an elbow. “When did you see her? Is she alright?” Rhys stares down at him with an expression that suggests Jack has grown at least three extra heads, but lacks the brain to fill even the original one. “Yes, I’ve met her. But judging from your questions, I’m not sure you have. How could she not be alright? She is some kind of shadow… goddess!”

@adhdavinci

Jack winces. Then winces again, because it hurts to wince. “It’s… more complicated than that, kid. Believe it or not, there are still things here that you don’t under—” A fist smacks into Jack’s jaw without a warning. “What the hell?” “No, go on.” Rhys gives him a poison-tipped smile. “Tell me more about all the mysteries of this realm that I still don’t understand. Starting with your darling Angel. Incredible name, by the way. Just perfect to fool saps like me into believing she’s a poor little girl who needs help. Was it your idea, or did she choose it herself?”

@enigma-the-mysterious

A cold pit opens in Jack’s stomach, and is filled with lava immediately after. His hand moves so fast, he only registers it when his fist is buried in Rhys’s side. Caught entirely off-guard, Rhys coughs out a muffled ‘urk’ and topples sideways. Jack shoves him off the rest of the way and pulls himself to his feet. Once he’s up, he looks down on Rhys. The young man, still a bit stunned, gawks up at him. “Her mother picked the name,” Jack says. Then he turns around and walks towards the dying fire.

[girl-drink-drunk]

Settle something between my friends: who would win in a back alley, bare knuckle fistfight?

[sunlitsparks]

Chapter 2: Fistfights on Friday

First | Next

Chapter under the cut ☆

The next few days after meeting the handsome Armadillo seemed to drag on so slowly. The day they had met was a Tuesday, and they had agreed to meet up for a fair date on Saturday, but the wait felt like torture. Honey worked the next two days and they were just as slow as ever, so she passed the time by calling Mina to hear about her gig, or texting Mighty silly icebreaker questions which he always answered, much to her joy.

Are you an introvert or extrovert? Extrovert, which didn’t surprise her too much, given his direct approach to talking with her, he just has a bit of a shy side with pretty girls or boys!!

Do you prefer coffee or tea? As it turned out, he enjoyed both. Cold coffee and hot tea were his preferences.

Are you a morning person or a night owl? A morning person; he was very emphatic about this answer.

What’s your biggest fear? Losing his family.

After this question, Honey realized it had gotten kind of deep, and she was afraid to put him on the spot like that, so the questions ceased for the time being. She figured there’d be plenty more to ask him in person, so their conversations following that revolved around sending each other silly memes or gifs, and wishing each other a good day.

On Friday, Honey had another boxing match, so fortunately it passed a little faster than the two previous days. She spent the morning exercising and eating a good meal, the afternoon she arrived at the gym early to practice against a dummy, and then she took some time to rest before making her way to the ring.

Her opponent this day was an echidna with long red dreads and fiery purple eyes; she had never met this mobian before. Or any echidna, for that matter; they weren’t common in this city. Supposedly, he was a newcomer to the ring with exceptional talent, and was progressing through ranks rather quickly, landing him a match against Honey. She wasn’t champion level or anything like that, but decently ranked, being a regular competitor herself for about two years now.

“Today’s competitors! The flaming red echidna with the strength of a raging inferno, it’s the newcomer, Knuckles! Versus a veteran competitor, the cat that’s fast like lighting, clever and quick on her feet, it’s Honey!”

“Pleasure to meet you, Knuckles.” Honey gave a small bow rather than stretching out her hand for a handshake, not sure whether she could trust her opponent to not take advantage of that and get a blow in. “I heard about your fighting style, you’re quite the brute force, aren’t you?? You best bring your best!!”

The echidna gave a curt nod; he didn’t respond vocally, but the determination burning behind his eyes was enough of an answer for her. She then realized he was probably already wearing his mouthguard; slipping hers in, she gave the referee a thumbs-up, showing she was ready to go.

“Match, begin!”

Knuckles immediately began with a powerful lead hook; given his big and burly figure, she didn’t expect him to be quite so fast, and barely dodged the attack in time. She stepped towards him and threw a cross in return, but he raised his arms in defense to block the attack. Just as he began to lower his guard, though, she gave a lead undercut, landing her blow against his stomach. He let out a grunt and stumbled a bit, but quickly shook off the hit.

As I expected, Honey thought to herself, side-stepping to dodge a jab nearing her chest. That was one of my most powerful punches and he took it like it was nothing. Not to mention, I’m a decent bit shorter, so hooks are gonna be my best bet here if I wanna knock him down quickly.

The round continued at about the same pace, with Honey dodging most of his punches and Knuckles blocking most of hers. She only got in one more good punch before the bell rang, signaling the round’s end. She stepped off to drink some water, trying to quickly strategize. Ultimately, my only option is to keep dodging as much as I can and counter-attack… but I don’t know how that’s going to pan out for me. He’s almost as fast as me, and if I start getting tired and slowing down, it’s over.

“YOU GOT THIS, HONEY!”

A voice called out loudly from the crowd, and without even turning to look, she knew it was her best friend, Mina. A small prickle of guilt jabbed at her gut because she couldn’t make it to her friend’s show, and yet the mongoose was now here, cheering on her match… but Honey shook away the feeling, knowing it wasn’t her fault that work got in the way. Her friend’s cheers gave her confidence. Grinning, she put her mouthguard back in.

She made her way back to the center of the ring, looking into her opponent’s eyes. He met her gaze evenly, unwavering.

“Round 2, begin!”

This time the echidna held his stance without throwing a punch, much to Honey’s curiosity. Is he waiting on me to strike? Unwilling to stand around and waste her time, Honey quickly drew closer and threw three quick punches—jab, cross, jab. The first one landed against the echidna’s upper chest, close to his shoulder, but he guarded the next two. As Honey drew back her arm after the third punch, a massive force collided with her abdomen, sending her flying backwards a bit. 

She lost her balance and had to hold herself up again using her arms. Shit!! That was gonna cost her a point, since it was technically a knockdown, despite pulling back up almost immediately. The referee had already begun counting up to two.

The remainder of the round continued much like the first, and Honey was beginning to feel herself wearing thin. There was not much at all she could do against this opponent; when she did eventually land a better hit, a rear uppercut to his lower jaw, once again he stumbled but held his balance. She could tell he was getting tired, though. The determination in his eyes was starting to burn out a little, and his movements were slowing a little.

The bell rang once again, and Honey retreated to her corner to hydrate and rest. The worst blow she had taken was to her abdomen, so thankfully there was no bleeding in need of treatment; she just needed to take some deep breaths.

On the other hand, there was Knuckles, who she could see treating the small wound to his jaw. It wasn’t bleeding much, fortunately; she would have felt terrible if so. I’m here to have fun and let out steam and get good exercise, not to truly hurt people.

She returned her mouthguard to her mouth and returned to the center of the ring. When she gazed at Knuckles, her fur frizzed up at the expression she was met with. His expression was filled with more anger and determination than she had seen when the match began. However much she had worn him out, it seems as though it wasn’t enough.

I have to stall for time!!

“Round 3, begin!”

Honey could feel her anxiety spiking as her dodging grew more frantic than strategic; it had been quite some time since she had faced an opponent whom she couldn’t outmaneuver, let alone one with whom her tactics failed against not because they were smarter, but because they were simply too tough.

Before she could register anything else, a heavy blow collided into her chest and she flew backwards again; this time her head hit the ground, drawing all the breath and energy out of her. She struggled to lift her head up, but everything was blurry and swirling, though in all the chaos she spotted a somewhat familiar face, deep blue eyes riddled with anxiety.

“Mighty…??” she croaked out around her mouthpiece, before everything went dark.

“Honey? Honey, you gotta get up…”

“Mmmina??” Honey mumbled before she was even aware of what she was saying. Her intuition was correct, and she opened her eyes to see her best friend hovered over her unconscious body, smiling kindly.

“Yeah. The match is over. Do you need help walking out…?”

“Yeah,” Honey sighed, trying to sit up despite her aching body begging her to lie back down. Together the girls hobbled out of the arena, which had already been cleared otherwise. Much of the audience had cleared out too, in fact. “How long was I knocked out for??”

“Like, two minutes. Everyone just seemed to be clearing out rather fast. I came straight to check on you.”

Honey leaned against her friend for comfort, her breath starting to come back to her in regular intervals. “I don’t suppose I won??” she joked, knowing she didn’t even need an answer. A knockout was an immediate loss for the boxer that fell unconscious.

“Afraid not,” Mina lamented, which stung Honey’s heart anyways. “But come this way! Someone wants to talk to you,” she added on in a sing-songy tone, piquing Honey’s curiosity.

As they made their way to the entrance, Honey scanned the crowd, trying to guess whom Mina might be referring to. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized a familiar red shell; the mobian appeared to be chatting with someone, but the crowd was blocking the rest of her vision so she couldn’t tell.

“Mighty!!” Honey called excitedly, waving her arms frantically. She immediately regretted this action as her head began pounding. Nonetheless, she could feel her chest bubbling with excitement. I thought I was crazy when I saw his face in the crowd. It really was him!!

The armadillo turned towards Honey and gave a beaming smile, waving her over. Honey glanced at Mina, who nodded back at the cat with an amused expression on her face. Together they slowly made their way to the armadillo, and as they drew closer Honey could see that Mighty did in fact have a companion he was chatting with, the very echidna Honey had just lost to. Knuckles.

“Hello,” Honey mumbled to the red echidna sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. Instead she turned back to Mighty and smiled again. “What brings you here??”

“I could ask you the same,” Mighty retorted, nudging Knuckles with his elbow. “Knuckles here is one of my best pals, I had no idea you were his opponent tonight! Not that he ever tells me about his fights.”

“It does not matter who they are,” the echidna grumbled, though his gaze was fixed on Honey. Her tail twitched in discomfort. “All that matters to me is their skill in the arena. You fought well, Honey the Cat.”

Honey could feel her cheeks turning warm with embarrassment, though she felt sort of a weight lifted off her chest. Normally, opponents who bested her were egotistical jerks, but this Knuckles seemed like an alright guy. “You did too!!”

“Awww, see? You guys are cool!” Mighty announced, elbowing Knuckles again, this time more forcefully and in the gut, drawing an oomph out of his friend. Knuckles drew away from Mighty with a glare, but his red cheeks betrayed his emotions. “Truth be told, this brute is a softie and felt really bad for knocking you out cold!”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Knuckles snapped, though Honey could tell he wasn’t truly angry, just embarrassed. He turned towards the front doors, glancing over his shoulder at Mighty briefly. “It was good seeing you. But I must be going now.”

“Aww, already? Well, have a good night then!” Mighty called back softly. Knuckles waved to acknowledge him without looking back. Mighty then turned back to Honey. “I don’t think you mentioned you were a boxer.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Honey teased, though truthfully she was a little nervous to admit it. I’m not too great, and I didn’t want him to see me lose. I suppose it’s too late for that though.

A loud ahem next to Honey reminded her that Mina was still there, holding her up. “Oh!! This is Mina, my bestest friend in the whole world!!”

“We spoke briefly, but it’s good to see you in person,” Mighty replied, reaching out to shake Mina’s hand, and the mongoose graciously returned the gesture.

“Wait—I thought you said I was only out a couple minutes??” Honey looked back at Mina, puzzled.

The mongoose nodded in response. “He noticed me heading to you and asked if I was okay, I told him I was checking, and he asked me to bring you here when you woke up.”

“Ohhh.”

“Speaking of, how are you feeling?” Mighty asked, blue eyes wide with concern.

“My head is pounding a little less”, Honey answered, pulling away from Mina a little. “I think I can walk now too. I just need water and rest. And some good food!!”

“We’ll get you some grub, don’t worry,” Mina reassured. “You sure you’re good for that date tomorrow?”

“Oh, absolutely!!” Honey lashed her tail excitedly. “I’m not letting a silly headache get in the way!!”

Mighty giggled a little, making Honey’s heart flutter. He’s not just handsome, sweet, and cool. He’s cute too!! “Well, in that case, I very much look forward to meeting up with you tomorrow! I oughta be on my way home too now. My little siblings need dinner.”

“Yes, of course,” Honey answered. Mighty had told her more about that little sister of his, Matilda, as well as his younger brother Ray. His family clearly meant a huge deal to him, and from the sound of it there weren’t really any parental figures in the picture. “I’ll see you tomorrow!!”

The two waved goodbye and together Honey and Mina walked towards the subway station, the yellow cat skipping with every other step.

First | Next

[sparkedblaze]

SPRALBERT IS AMAZING TOO

anything including my child al

OKAY SICK

ALSO I HOPE YOU WERE ASKING ABOUT THE MODERN AU BC THAT'S WHAT I'M ABOUT TO RANT/INFODUMP WITH THIS

T/W IT'S VIOLENT BC @noxexistant GAVE ME PERMISSION TO USE THE FIGHT CLUB AU

And also t/w for cursing and mentioned homophobia as well

BELOW THE CUT

The Delanceys started the RFC (Refuge Fight Club, more commonly known as the Ring) when Oscar turned 14, Morris was 12. They had an itch that needed to be scratched, and they knew that the only way to do that was to fight. At least this way, they had consent to kick the others’ asses. No holds barred, bare knuckled fistfights. These are all out brawls that happen in the basement of the Refuge. The two of them hold top spot for years. There’s an age requirement (no one under 13-originally placed so Oscar could keep Morris safe just a little longer). There’s rules against girls fighting (Oscar underestimates everyone. He thinks that being born with a uterus means you’re weak). There’s special brutality toward out lgbt folk.

Albert is the first to break the age requirement. He’s only 10 when he fights for the first time. He’s allowed to fight because he essentially bullies Oscar (who’s six years older, and at least two feet taller) into letting him do it. And by bully, I mean this kid pranks him relentlessly. It starts with small things. Hand in warm water while he sleeps, whipped cream in the hand and tickle his nose, stealing his clothes while he’s in the shower. They’re simple, harmless pranks. 

Until they’re not.

Soon, Albert is oiling the stairs-hurting Oscar, Morris, and several of his own friends (he feels so fucking bad about his friends getting hurt). He’s putting mousetraps on the floor below his and Morris’s bed. 

Oscar asks him what it would take for him to fucking stop before someone actually gets hurt, and Albert tells him that he’s gotta let him fight, just once. If he holds his own, he keeps fighting, and if not he’ll know better.

Albert fights almost every day after that. Fights daily until he’s exhausted and heaving with it, but he grins the entire time. He loses about twice a week, when he’s too exhausted for the fight to go on too long, and he’s in and out of the ring. But he goes, patches himself up, and passes out on a bed for roughly 22 hours. He eats, and immediately goes down to the basement, looking for whoever had beaten him the night before.

His first break in that pattern comes when Antonio gets put in the Refuge (he’s 11). Toni is appalled by the Ring at first. He thinks it’s brutal and horrifying and all these other things. But, he starts thinking about the bets his papá made at the horse track in Brooklyn, and his brain starts working out how maybe they could do that with the fights and-wait his new red-headed friend is literally a dead man walking right now.

Toni (not Racetrack, yet) told him that he would probably stop losing if he’d just take a day or two break a week, and at first Albert says hell no

But then Toni talks him into taking a break for a day, and Albert goes back the day after absolutely ready to dominate the ring.

And he does

And that's the first fight Toni takes bets on. And everyone expects Albert to suck and be out of practice

So he rakes in the dough on that fight.

MORE FUN (LESS VIOLENT) THINGS THAT I HAVE WRITTEN DOWN:

Streams games, very popular. Isn’t verified because he doesn’t care enough to go through all the steps to do it.

Has a massive crush on Racetrack Higgins before he meets the stupid fuck, and then he 'meets' him, realizes that it's ANTONIO FUCKING HIGGINS THAT BITCH, and promptly kicks his ass.

Rents a massive house (Like this bitch is literally like 8-10 bedrooms. But they all split the rent, so it's kinda okay) with Finch, Race, Spot, Hotshot, Ike, Blink, Mush, Tommy, Barney, and Specs. There’s a very strict no siblings allowed rule bc sometimes Albert, Race, and Ike just need to get away. There are exceptions, but it’s only if they’re told beforehand, and given at least 3 days’ notice.

Front Page Story: Gaming streamer. King of FPS games (hence the acronym of his name). He’s been featured in several gaming magazines, and some out of the community. Is almost always invited to things like VidCon. 

The guy is popular. He's small and cute, but quick to anger, and his fans eat that shit up. They don't ask why he's always ready for a fight. They don't ask where the scars on his body came from. They're honestly too scared to.

But, on the other hand, he's very personable when people actually meet him in person. He's not as angry and he doesn't yell as much (it's more unsettling than any of them expect)

Like his fans literally adore him, and they can and will fight for him

Albert is reintroduced to Racer after he and Spot are already together, and it kind of makes his stomach churn because he's had a crush on this boy since they were literally children. And here comes this guy, unliked by Race's oldest brother, somehow more violent than Albert himself, and he's got Racer.

And then, Albert meets him.

Fucker's charismatic, and he kinda has a nice smile, but he too is unattainable.

Until he's not.

Race and Spot come to him, explaining that they both may or may not kind of be head over heels for this dumbass. He's taken aback at first, can see the discomfort in Race's expression as he tries to explain it (though what he doesn't know is that discomfort comes from his younger years of being raised strictly Catholic).

When he agrees to a date, he thinks he might melt, because he's never seen either of them smile that wide. Those two are absolutely beaming at him.

And he thinks that, maybe this won't be so bad.