#blonde men are woman to me /ref

[mintypsii]

NO CUZ WHAT'S HIS PROBLEM

[wordgirlexploration]

Now that we have two new ref line ups, allow me to share with y'all some headcanons for some of them!

Rex/Kid Math

Most of our Kid Math takes are based off of FountainPenguin's two Kid Math fics: Factor It In and AlgoRythym. We just love those fics <3

Last name is Pemdas.

Non-binary. Really I just imagine most of the aliens in the show are some flavor of non-binary and Kid Math is no exception.

Autistic and has synesthesia. Same as Becky :) Comes with the territory of being from a subject obsessed planet and gaining superpowers on another world that overstimulates the senses.

His birthday (equivalent on Earth) is Pi day

He is so, so small. 3'7" (or exactly 110 centimeters!) tall. He looks more like he should be in Kindergarten/1st grade than 3rd grade.

More of a Hexagon headcanon than a Kid Math specific one: Hexagon is a very logical planet and as a result, when they do superhero work it's always 1) track down villain 2) get rid of villain 3) day is saved! Wordgirl's way of being a superhero would baffle ANYONE from Hexagon. Kid Math is just a product of his environment.

Mr Big + Leslie

Mr Big is trans.

His orientation is queer because we can't quite pin down what it is but he's definitely not straight.

Stands at 6'5". He's not called "Mr Big " for nothing!

Sees Dr Two-Brains on the weekends ever since their team up in Invasion of the Bunny Lovers. >:3

Leslie is a lesbian. We think she and the Mayor's assistant should kiss but not sure if it's canon to Exploration.

She's only 5'5" but wears 2 inch heels so you can't immediately tell.

Leslie's last name is Little. She's Leslie Little.

Both are in their early/mid 30's. Mr Big is only a couple years older than Leslie.

Granny May

She's been a villain the longest. Being a petty pickpocket since her late teens. Her "career" as a supervillian really took off though when she met her future husband.

Her husband was a man named Walter, who she met after charming her way into some fancy event. She stole his heart and his wallet that night <3

Walter made most of her gadgets that she uses today. Her suit of armor was his wedding present to her.

They got married later than most people from their time. Granny May was very hesitant about marriage at first. Worried it would affect her crime career since she relied mostly on her charm, which works better on suckers men when they think you're single.

Note: I really could go on and on about Granny's past but I'll leave off here because we have a whole episode planned for exploring her past ;)

Granny May has always been very small. In her prime she only stood at 5'1". In her old age she's now only 4'11".

Victoria Best

Dyes her hair. She's a natural brunette but since the rest of her family is blonde it's for the best (heh) that she match her family.

Her eyes are naturally blue but have an unusual red tint to the pupils and iris.

As of Exploration, she's currently taller than Becky at 4'9".

On the aroace spectrum but hasn't figured it out yet. She's the best at ignoring her feelings <3

We have big plans for her :)

Beatrice Bixby/Lady Redundant Woman

In her mid 30's.

Beatrice herself is aroace. Her clones are not. It drives her insane when one of them develops a crush because she doesn't get it.

Her clones are not perfect copies of her. She's had to recall one or two because they refuse to help in her crime sprees.

All her clones are effectively vegetarian because they can only consume ink. Ever since she became Lady Redundant Woman, Beatrice has had to supplement her own diet with ink every now and then. She can just change out her ink cartridge, but it's surprisingly cheaper to just eat ink. Also less of a hassle.

Lady Redundant Woman herself might also just be vegetarian. We haven't figured that out yet.

Tall woman. She stands at 6'1" plus her boots make her appear a couple inches taller. She looks shorter as Beatrice because of her Customer Service Slouch(TM).

She's ambidextrous.

Todd "Scoops" Ming

Hitting him with the trans beam. Came about because of that one episode where, aside from Bob, he was the only boy in the scouts group. We think he joined before he transitioned, and then when he did come out as trans the group wanted him to stay <3 Now he's one of the exceptions because it'd be rude to kick him and also all the other scouts will defend his place with their dying breaths.

Aside from Eugene May (because no one is gonna catch up with him), he's the tallest kid in 7th grade right now at 4'11".

While currently dating Violet, Scoops is bi and has had a couple crushes before Violet. His type seems to be blondes with weird eyes...

ale: we gave him ugly shoes because his top half is the only thing that needs to look presentable.

we obviously also fixed his skintone and haircut. we love you wordgirl, you did this kid so incredibly dirty.

we made his shirt blue because he's a little older now and Raven thought he deserved to have a different shirt.

Violet Heaslip

Her eyes are an unusual pinkish-purple color. Becky and Scoops think it's really cool.

She's currently the same height as Victoria.

Back in 4th grade/beginning of 5th grade she had a crush on Becky. She outgrew it halfway through the school year.

ale: we really just gave her an all-new detailed outfit because, as we realized after we finished her, her outfit is so.... plain for an art kid!

her pockets full of flowers are inspired by a piece of fanart showing the worg kids as elementary schoolers. the doodles on her skirt are inspired by a Dear Evan Hansen lyric.

gets a beret because she's an artist <3

i gave her warmly rainbow socks because i thought they'd look like something i'd see in a Justice as a kid.

TJ Botsford

"TJ" is short for Tim Jr.

His birthday is May 4th.

He's gay but hasn't figured it out yet. Got more important things to worry about such as how to grow the WordGirl Fan Club.

ale: made his skin darker to match with his parents, and his hair darker to match with his skin. and gave him a fade because, like. look at him. he would.

Tim and Sally Botsford (Do not separate <3)

Both are in their late 30's but Sally is older by a couple years.

Tim is just a little taller than average at 5'10", while Sally is close to average height at 5'4", but wears 3 inch heels to give herself that extra height. Makes her a little more intimidating at her job.

They met in college at the ice cream parlor from Whammer Anniversary <3 it was for some get together/study group and the two just clicked.

Their wedding anniversary is October 13th.

Tim is pan.

Tim's family specifically is of Ethiopian descent. It's why his spicier meals pack such a punch.

We mostly just like Sally the way she is <3

As we've mentioned before, Sally is Afro-Latina.

Shown in the episode That's Entertainment, Sally's hair actually becomes poofy and curly when not "blow-dried." Her hair is still like this (it's what inspired us to make her Afro-Latina), but we've decided that her hair becomes straightened through normal straightening means.

ale: made Tim's hair more afro-textured for obvious reasons. also it's canon that it used to look like that. also, he's graying more.

made Tim more brown because we couldn't live with keeping him orange.

i INSISTED that he keep his horrible outfit. everyone watching me draw him hated it, however, he is my "horrible fashion sense" king.

we mostly kept Sally the same, just made her skin more skin-tone like. also, we turned that weird line in her hair into a gray streak, because she's a little older now, and we couldn't figure out why it was there.

[justcourttee]

I love your sibling Jasonette so much!! If you don't mind, could you do Marinette's first meeting with the rest of the Batfam? Also, this is probably a stupid question but are the rest of the sibling Jasonette stories connected?

Not a stupid question at all! I wrote them so that if you read all of them, there are parallels so that they could be connected, but if people didn’t want to read all of them, they could also stand on their own :)

I also NEVER mind writing more sibling Jasonette ;) Hope you enjoy! @moonlitjiminie 

Family Game Night

“What if they don’t like me?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Is that even a real question that you’re asking me? I’m honestly offended right now that you would even think they had an option to not like you.”

He dramatically placed his hand over his heart as if her words had fatally wounded him earning a small giggle from the girl. Slinging his arm over her shoulder, she managed to breathe a small sigh of relief as they made their way up the long staircase.

Jason didn’t even bother knocking as he threw open the manor doors, effectively dragging her in with him.

“Master Jason, what a pleasure to see you attend family game night and with a guest in tow, how lovely.”

An older man stood in the foyer, his sly smile warming Marinette to the core instantly. Jason narrowed his eyes playfully at the man, a sly smile of his own tugging at his lips.

“Marinette, let me introduce you to the only sane person in this household. Mr. Alfred Pennyworth. He likes to pretend he’s just a humble butler, but we all know that he secretly runs the whole thing around here.”

Alfred bowed deeply to Marinette to which she could only curtsey in return.

“It’s a pleasure, sir. I am sorry for invading your family time. I was under the impression that my presence was a known factor tonight.” Her narrowed eyes shot to Jason who simply shrugged, his smirk as arrogant as ever.

“Nonsense, a friend of Master Jason is a friend to all. You are by far the most pleasant friend he has brought to this event.”

Marinette almost wanted to ask about the context of his remark, but something in her gut told her she really didn’t want to know.

“Please, follow me to the sitting room. The rest of the family has already arrived.”

They walked in a comfortable silence down the hall, Marinette nerves slightly frayed now knowing that nobody expected her appearance. Alfred pushed open two oak doors, revealing a brightly lit room filled with many laughing faces. When Jason said he had a lot of siblings, Marinette thought two or three. Nothing could have prepared her for this.

“Oh my god, Jason brought home a girl!”

Instantly all sounds in the room paused as many heads turned their attention to where Marinette stood in the doorway. Hesitantly, she raised her hand in greeting, a sheepish smile gracing her face.

“Everyone, this is Marinette, the legendary designer MDC, and my sister. She’s flown all the way from Paris to meet you losers for some reason so be nice.”

Marinette mumbled a quiet hello as a few smiles broke through the room welcoming her. Instantly, a blonde girl jumped up to drag her back to where she was previously sitting, ignoring Jason’s protests.

“You just have to play on my team tonight! Are you any good at Pictionary? I mean I’m not great, but I can say with utmost confidence that I can beat most of the people in this room.”

“That’s not true!” Marinette’s attention was split as one of the men started an argument with her as to who was the better pictionary-ist. She didn’t even notice when Jason had sat beside her, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“The rude blonde is Stephanie Brown. She’s Timmy boys girlfriend, who would be the dead zombie looking kid over there.”

Marinette’s gaze followed to where Jason pointed, a small giggle escaping at his accurate description. The poor boy looked like he hasn’t gotten a good night's sleep a single day in his life. 

“The rude boy arguing with Stephanie would be Dick. He practically rivals your optimism except his happy go lucky actually disgusts me.”

The man paused from his argument, a horrified expression on his face.

“I like to think my optimism is a blessing.”

That earned a collective groan from the room to which he simply crossed his arms into a pout.

“Anyways, continuing, the redhead is Barbara Gordon-Grayson who unfortunately has trapped herself in the position of Dick’s wife. A tragedy really for such a beautiful woman, I mean she could’ve had me and instead she chose him? The world just isn’t right.”

Another protest came from Dick’s direction as he turned his pout into Barbara’s outstretched arms as her attempt to not laugh failed miserably.

“The one staring you down while trying to pretend he’s not interested at the same time would be your future husband Damian.”

Marinette felt her entire face flush red as she reached back slapping Jason in the stomach as hard as he could.

“Todd, I do not appreciate harassing this young woman. You are beneath her in status and beauty therefore you should not be allowed to get off with this insult to her self so easily.”

Damian stood from his spot, careful not to make eye contact with Marinette as he sped past her toward the room’s only exit. She wanted to call out and ask him to stay, but the pink on his cheeks caused her to pause. He probably was just as embarrassed as her and just needed some time to breathe.

“Jason, that was mean! Look at how flustered you made him!”

Jason simply laughed as he reached over to ruffle her hair.

“Trust me, he never gets ‘flustered’ that was all you.”

For the second time that night, Marinette felt her face flush.

“He’s right you know!” Her eyes turned back to the blonde from earlier who stared her down with a playful expression in her eyes. “Demon spawn definitely has a crush on you.”

The rest of the family took turns picking at her, taking jabs until she was sure there wasn’t one part of her that wasn’t bloodshot red.

“Alright, alright, give the girl some space. We want her to return eventually!”

Marinette smiled gratefully toward the dark-haired man.

“After all, I need to get to know my future daughter-in-law.”

She instantly regretted her friendly gesture as the room exploded once more, smiles and laughter filling the room. Why exactly had she let Jason talk her into this?

“Okay, okay, really though guys. It’s game night! Time to pick team captains.”

Stephanie’s devilish smile sent shivers through Marinette’s spine. It was purely chaotic, reminding her of another blonde that she had left behind.

“I vote Marinette and Jason, the ultimate sibling showdown!” Dick puffed out his chest as his voice mimicked what sounded suspiciously like a wrestling ref that her father loved to watch.

“I’m down, how about you princess?”

Marinette bit her lip as her eyes glanced around the room at their waiting faces. Her eyes caught sight of one brooding face that she couldn’t seem to pass by. He also seemed to be waiting, his eyes nervously glancing from her position to the door as if he might bolt at any moment.

“It’s game on Todd.”

They shook their hands defiantly, both wearing dangerous smirks. Maybe she could salvage her pride tonight; not just hers’ but Damian’s as well. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Ladies first.”

Marinette and Jason stood on opposite sides of the room, both watching each other with an intense look that came from their competitive natures. She scanned the eager faces of his family thoughtfully. She had no idea what any of them were good at, but she wanted to maintain appearance for the psych of it.

“Damian.”

Everybody broke out into smirks as they shared knowing looks. She didn’t bother to pay them any mind as the pink-cheeked boy rose to stand with her.

“Wrong move princess, demon spawn hates game night more than he likes to win. My first choice? Stephanie.”

The girl pumped her fist in the air as she joined Jason on his side. Marinette leaned toward where Damian stood, hiding half her face behind her hand.

“Time to strategize, who is my best bet?”

Damian stared at her with a bewildered expression.

“C’mon beau garçon, I need your help if we’re gonna kick Jason’s ass.”

He nodded slowly as if that were a perfectly reasonable excuse to kick into gear.

“Grayson is the leading contender if you wish to win tonight.”

Marinette nodded as she motioned for Dick to join them as well. Jason raised an eyebrow at her as he called over Tim, challenging her to pick from the remaining two.

“Okay Damian, Barbara or Bruce.”

He didn't bother responding as he pointed at his father, leaving the redhead to Jason’s team.

It was five hours of intense games, Alfred keeping score as an unaffiliated third party,( after all, they had all agreed that he was the fairest way to keep the games moving.) They all sat in anticipation while he tallied the scores. She couldn’t seem to calm her nerves as she stared at Jason’s cocky smirk.

Marinette felt a warmth brush by her kneecap. Instantly her head snapped to where a hand rested before her gaze reached back up to his face, a light red dusting across her cheeks. Immediately his hand retracted.

“I’m sorry if that was inappropriate, your knee was just bouncing anxiously from the corner of my eye and it was a slight bother.”

Marinette muttered out a small sorry before they both broke their gaze, the blush evident on both of their cheeks.

“And with a final score of 5-4, the winning team is… Miss Marinette!”

Her whole team jumped from the couch in excitement. Without thinking, she threw her arms around Damian’s neck. Realization crossed her face as she quickly retracted her hug, her entire face as red as could be. God, she hadn’t been this much of a blushing mess since she was thirteen.

They all chatted idly for a few minutes before Jason finally intercepted, insisting he had to get her back to her apartment before it got too late. The whole family waved her goodbye, minus one red-faced teen who instead handed her a small piece of paper as discreetly as he could, ignoring the taunts from his family behind his back.

As they drove back to her apartment, Marinette couldn’t hold her excitement anymore.

“I don’t know why you were warning me so much, I think I’m in love with your family Jason.”

His familiar smirk sat on his face as he turned into the apartment’s lot.

“I told you they were going to love you, and what do you know? I didn’t even have to give Damian your number, you two worked it out on your own. I truly believe they are planning out your wedding right now.”

Marinette shook her head as she reached over the console to hug Jason tightly before stepping out of the car. She wanted to deny accusations of what happened tonight, but she knew it would just fuel his picking.

Besides, even she couldn’t deny that she was excited for the next family game night and if she saw a certain Wayne there, well, that really wouldn’t be so bad.

Permanent Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava

[sunflowersteves]

Bloody & Bruised || Drinking Games

mob!bucky barnes x boxer!reader

𝒄��. 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You, Shuri, Gamora, and Wanda all head to a new bar in town. You see a secret area that’s restricted, and of course, Wanda wants to see what’s behind it. The breath you hold ultimately leaves you as you stare at those cerulean blue eyes again.

author’s note: soo i’m liking this series wayyy better than before and I think it just flows better. I really like it and i hope you all do too!

warnings: drinking, violence, blood, a little angst, smut, fingering, [18+ only!!]

chapter one // series m.list // m.list 

You sighed, your hips joined Shuri's as you sat in one of the booths at the bar she asked you to come to the other day. You took small sips out of the stirring straw of your tequila sunrise. The sweet taste of syrup and tequila rushed down your throat, a nice burn following after. You’ve already had one before this, so you were getting quite buzzed.

It was nice feeling a bit dizzy as yesterday you were a ball of nerves from figuring out that the guy on the subway was a famous mobster. Shuri was luckily able to calm you down and promised to help you relax. You felt relaxed, considering you haven’t thought about him the whole time you were here.

You laughed as you watched a drunk Gamora try to get Shuri’s brother, T’challa, to go dance with her. Her words slurred together, but T’challa agreed as he was then dragged to the dance floor. There were bodies all around them, dancing next to them as they disappeared into the crowd.

You turn to Shuri to tell her something, but neither Wanda nor Shuri were paying any attention to you. You follow their line of sight to see them staring at a bunch of people walking into an area that looks restricted.

All three of you could see a bouncer in front of a doorway near the bar, letting people in and out of the secret area. Wanda’s eyes sparkled slightly, and you internally groaned. Whatever was behind that door, you wanted no part of it. You had a match tomorrow, and you didn’t want to get tangled in whatever the fuck.

Both Shuri and Wanda quickly turned to you with gleaming, begging eyes. You outwardly groaned at the sound of their pleas and begs. Wanda grabbed your arm and, you rolled your eyes. 

“Please, please, please-”

“Alright, alright. We can try to get in, but if we-” Shuri and Wanda drowned out your sentence with cheers of victory. You chuckled beside them while they shoved you towards the doorway. The tall bouncer looked at the two of you with a raised eyebrow.

“Names?”

“Wanda. Wanda Maximoff.” She stares hard at the bouncer as he narrows his eyes and tightens his folded arms across his chest. His lips were in a thin line, clearly unimpressed by Wanda’s reaction. She leaned a little closer with sneering eyes.

“You don’t know who I am, do you? Heard of Pietro Maximoff? One of the wealthiest men in the city? Well, that’s my brother.” She looked at her nails as if she was bored with the conversation. “I wonder what he would think about his little sister being turned down?” 

You and Shuri could only look at her wide-eyed at the scene in front of you. You never knew that Wanda had it in her to manipulate somebody like that with her money, it was kind of impressive considering she could never hurt a fly. You also didn’t even know her brother was some kind of wealthy businessman.

The bouncer stutters over his words and quickly moves aside, letting the two of you inside. You all cheer in victory and laugh together at the situation. “Damn, Wanda, that was harsh.” She just brushes it off with laughter as you continue down the hallway.

“Yeah, I bullshitted all of that. My brother works at that pizza place near my apartment.”

Your eyes look around the place, and it was not what you were expecting. You thought that it would just be a bunch of rich people snorting coke on a brunch of tables. You thought you were going to be bored as Wanda and Shuri bounced around to other tables talking to people. 

You were quite surprised to see a bunch of people surrounding a boxing ring, with two shirtless men fighting each other. Shuri smirked next to you, but you missed it, completely enamored by what was before you. Wanda dragged the two of you towards the front of the crowd. In the middle, the group formed a circle while two men had wrapped bands around their fists while they punched and dodged each other.

Pounding sounds of cheering escalate as one of the men punch the other one in the face, his body going limp and hitting the hard floor. However, not everyone cheers as some have to cough up some of their money because they lost the bet.

The referee walks up to the winner as he yells in excellence and pride, then walked around high fiving those who had bet on him. The ref quickly grabs the boxer’s fist and yanks it in the air, the crowd still cheering as loud as they can for the winner. They start to die down, the referee trying to calm down the mob of people so he can speak. 

“Who wants to challenge the winner?” 

The referee scans the crowd, looking for any sign of an opponent willing to fight the winner. For a short amount of time, there was silence. Considering that this boxer was notorious for winning all of his rounds, nobody wanted to challenge him.

You didn’t know whether you were just dumb, or it was the liquid courage that was coursing through your body as you blurted out that you wanted to join in on the fight.

“I do.” 

Your voice chimes through the silence of the ring; widened eyes glanced your way. The referee slightly hesitates before making a motion that beckons you forward and into the ring. However, not everyone has happy to see a woman challenging the winner.

“I’m not fighting a measly woman.”

Anger had coursed through your body, lying still on your stomach. All you did was roll your eyes at the boxer, a smirk coming forward across your face. 

“You think I’m inferior, and yet you won’t fight me? It sounds like you’re more afraid that I’ll challenge your authority and obscene masculinity.” 

Shuri and Wanda were backing you up with cheering while the crowd around the ring slowly started to join them. “The crowd wants her to fight, Jeff.” The man snarled at you as the referee gave you some bands. You took off the jacket that sat on your shoulders, which Wanda took immediately. 

The referee paused, making sure that you were good to go before the match started. You were now facing your opponent, a smirk teasing your face. This was a terrible shitty idea, but you couldn’t help but feel giddy at the adrenaline that was bouncing around in your body. It felt good to fight other than those with rules and guidelines. 

“Who are you fighting for?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “For?”

The referee points with his finger behind you, and you whip around. A gasp leaves your lips at the man sitting in what looked almost like a throne. There he was, James Barnes, the asshole that you met on the subway. He had three women surrounding him with flirtatious touches. He almost looked like a king. 

Next to him, you recognized slightly as the henchmen in the subway. One was a man with blue eyes and blonde hair, and the other was a woman with fiery red hair. You assumed they were his most trusted partners. 

Your eyes narrow slightly at the man, and you turn around, facing your opponent again. You never saw the Mob Bosses eyes dancing around you with a humorous gleam.

“I’m fighting for myself.”

The referee shrugged at you before locking eyes with James, making sure that it was okay you weren’t fighting for the mafia. You infer that he gives a nod towards the ref as he nods back before turning towards you, telling everyone that the fight was about to start.

You were given a mouthguard that you placed in your mouth. Your eyes flutter close, and you take a deep breath, letting your senses calm itself as you prepare to fight. The ref starts to count down from ten, looking at the two of you as the crowd starts betting on the guy in front of you. 

You knew that no one was going to bet on you, none of these sexist jerks would be able to see how incredible you are unless you beat the shit out of this dude. To them, you have to prove yourself.

“Fight!” The referee breaks out of the ring, and your eyes snap open, watching the muscular man in front of you. He takes the first swing, which you were able to block easily. The crowd around you had gasped, definitely not expecting you to prevent that like it was nothing.

Your opponent narrowed his eyes and proceeded to swing another punch. Again, you dodged it with ease, and the boxer in front of you didn’t miss the sly smirk on your face. While he was distracted at thinking about his next move, you swung a right hook that connected straight to his jaw.

His body took the blow, and he almost fell backward, there was a bit of purple bruising already forming onto his now injured jaw. The crowd erupted in cheers and yelled at the amount of force you were giving. All Shuri and Wanda did was smirk, knowing that the man had offered defeat when you said you were going to fight.

The ref holds up his hand, and you stop for a second while he checks on the guy; he nods that he’s okay, and the referee jumps back into the crowd. The boxer groans in annoyance and narrows his eyes at your figure. He couldn’t even get a swing in and punch you in the face, which was something that never had happened before. 

This time, he went for an uppercut just as he thought you were caught off guard by the crowd cheering again. However, he was clearly wrong. This time though, you completely stopped his movements. You had quickly grabbed his fist, his punch wholly deflated. 

In fast movements, you quickly swing with your other arm and hit him square in the face, blood seeping out from his nose and onto your jaw, which you knew would be sore tomorrow. He stumbles slightly before looking completely stunned. His eyes were rapidly moving from side to side as his vision became blurry. He sunk to his knees, the crowd was now silent in shock.

Immediately, he was fully slumped to the ground now, eyes fully closed. The ref ran over to him, counting down from ten as he watched for any movement. He got down to one and was astounded as he looked at you, your face and body completely untouched.

Two punches, that’s all you gave for this man to be knocked cold onto the ground. You definitely weren’t fighting to just fuck around in the ring. The crowd had practically exploded, never before had they seen somebody K.O. someone in a matter of minutes. 

Shuri and Wanda, on the other hand, were extremely pleased with the rich men giving them all their money. They were delighted to have them cough up their riches. You turn around to see the mob boss stare at you with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

However, his demeanor quickly changed into that of a cocky one as a smirk came plastered onto his lips. 

“C’mon, doll, you’ve earned an award.”

Your chest was heaving up and down from the fight. You let your eyes trail from the top of his head down to his shoes.

“I’m good, oh so dangerous mob boss.” 

A chorus of laughter left the red-headed woman at your remark while James just sneered. You were about to leave when his guards stepped a bit closer to you. 

“Not even going to stay for a drink?”

A sigh escaped past your lips, knowing you didn’t exactly have a choice with his guards. You could take these two; however, you figured this whole place was riddled with them so it was probably a wiser choice to just roll with the flow. 

You watched as the got out of the throne-like chair and fostered you to follow. Behind his chair was a red velvet curtain, which you assumed led to a private bar. His two friends, including the other guards, stayed still while you followed James into the private area.

It was quite dark and it was undoubtedly empty, not even a bartender was at the bar. It looked to be quite an old bar, lots of the finishing touches looked like they were from the twenties. He sat onto one of the barstools, swirling what looked like whiskey. 

“So, Bronx girl, where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Your eyebrows shot up as his question; you definitely didn’t expect him to remember you. He grabbed an empty glass and slid it over to you, pouring you a glass of whiskey. His eyes flicker over towards yours, and he chuckles at your expression.

“You left quite an impression, doll. I’ve never been turned down before.”

A sly smirk appears onto his face when you roll your eyes. You take a sip of the whiskey and hiss a bit at the burn but then let the oaky flavor fill your taste buds.

“My dad. He was one of the biggest boxers in Morris Heights. He taught my sister and me how to box at a younger age. He always said he’d get in trouble one day, and he needed to know we’d take care of ourselves.”

His lips curled into a smile as he took a large gulp os his whiskey, his eyes never left yours. 

“Bucky.”

You turn towards him a bit with confused eyes before taking another sip of your whiskey, now giving you numbness where your knuckles are bruised and bloody.

“That’s my name, my nickname anyway.”

You nod, turning towards him with a light smile. For the big bad and misogynistic guy that you met on the subway, this was someone you could potentially be friends with. Yeah, he’s a mob boss, but he doesn’t seem to see you as an object.

“Y/n.”

~

You don’t really know when the night progressed, but it very much did. Currently, your lips were locked with a certain mob boss and boy were his lips sweet. All night he would talk to you about old memories with his friends and he would even speak to you about his mother. You got to know who Bucky was, not some mob boss that rules over the city. 

He definitely didn’t treat you like you were some object, so you were just hoping all his riches and fame were a ruse. He had treated you like a gentleman all night, and as you got a closer look at him, he was definitely more handsome than you remember.

His lips were engulfing yours, his hot wet mouth swallowing you whole. His velvet tongue made its way into your mouth, leaving trembling kisses. He tasted like whiskey and faded mint, which made your knees slightly weak. Your hands moved down to his chest, prompting a sweet groan to erupt from his throat.

Your back was pressed up against the bar wall, touching some of the bottles behind you. Your legs were tightly wrapped around his torso as your kisses became hungrier. 

The whiskey bottle was long empty by now, the two of you had drank one whole. His hands were touching all over your body, from your legs to your stomach to your arms and your back.

You were both sloppy, tongues peaking out to wet each other’s mouths. 

You whimpered when he squeezed your hips, his slick tongue flicking against yours. A chuckle had lifted off his mouth at the sounds you were making from his touches. Your head was spinning, and your heart wouldn’t stop pounding in your ears. His hands moved down to the waistband of your jeans, and he hurriedly yet gently unbuttoned them. 

With your permission, which you gladly gave, his hand slowly reached down to stripe your slick folds. His middle finger circled around your entrance, which elicited a gasp from you. 

“You’re so wet, doll. All we’ve done is kissin’, huh?” 

All you could do was groan as he slid a finger inside, your walls slightly clenching at the feeling. Your hands were now pressed in a tight hold on his shoulders as he took his thumb and started to circle your clit. The sensitive bud felt good against his rough finger, your nails dug against his shoulder, which leads a dent in his tailored suit.

He wickedly smirks at the way you almost scream when he adds another finger, his throbbing cock was pressed up against your thigh. 

“You feel so good against my fingers, babydoll. Your moans are like a song.” 

You whimper as his fingers curl slightly, hitting the rough patch that was your g-spot. Your arousal was spilling out of you and onto his fingers, your clit was now very swollen and tender to the touch. He pressed fast, hot kisses against your mouth and cheeks, his tongue wetting every surface. 

You sucked in a breath as his fingers started to go in and out faster than ever, trying to chase that sweet release. You were almost there, that coil inside of your stomach, and the nerves that circled your cunt was about to pop.

“Bucky, please, I-”

“That’s it doll. I’ve got you. Cum around my fingers.”

A few pumps of his thick fingers into your heat, and you screamed his name, not caring who heard at the moment. Your lower body shook with pleasure as his fingers were riding out your high, which he then gave you much praise. 

His fingers were completely covered with your arousal. He never lost eye contact with you as he pulled his hand out from your pants and licked his fingers like they were lollipops.

His lips locked with yours as his hand lifted up to caress your cheek, and you tasted the sweetness of yourself. You grew dizzier, so you pushed your arms up to his chest, breaking your lips from his. You both sat there regaining strength, the sounds only heard was the club and you both panting. 

“My place?”

You quickly nodded, not giving a fuck at the moment. 

“Drax, get the car. Now.”

~~

next chapter

Bloody and Bruised: @xoasalxo @raven-rust @widowbite-legit​

Permanent Taglist: @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan @teenagereadersciencenerd

[blondrichclosetwitch]

Last night I fell. If you’re a longtime reader, you’ll know i’ve talked about the falls before. Last summer I fell twice, and when I fall, I’m out for the count. One of my teachers last September created something that would act as a cloak of invisibility.

Well yesterday I went out without it. And I fell right by the tree.

A knock the wind out of you fall. I stayed on the ground a few minutes.

On the cement, maybe. But right there it made no sense. I found an armchair nearby as a frank ocean song played that names Blond by her real name in the near-end of it.

I was too stunned to notice. I literally couldn’t believe I slammed down right there. It was like I was wearing the highest heels, and I was walking calmly in sneakers.

And then I started to notice the music, as I thought how I went out without my protection. Before I left the house, cruel and rip her to shreds played. I should have paid closer attention. Because now I’m on crutches.

And I’m gonna tune

Right in on you—Getting in tune, the Who

Right in on you—Getting in tune, the Who

Right in on you—Getting in tune, the Who

Right in on you—Getting in tune, the Who

Right in on you—Getting in tune, the Who

Man Bestows 

More Disease —does not, luis mojica 

Pay attention to the details

We go slowly, down— Little thoughts, Bloc party

When the poor excited Jezebel said, "Come outside"—-Three time loser, Rod Stewart

Signed sealed delivered I’m yours played while I was sitting, trying to catch my breath. The irony was not lost on me.

I feel like Selena, they wanna murder a nigga

Murder me like Selena

You must ain't get the memo

I don't cut bitches no more

But your bitch my exception 

Sage: I spend a couple hours with my family

And I go out and do everything that I ever thought about trying—future free, frank ocean

Now I'm the one that's lying

And I don't feel bad about it

It's exactly what you get—sorry, Beyoncé (this song was also from one of my guardian spirits, as in sorry I couldn’t protect you)

Through the bars you see scars results of my rage. 

Scared to skip and step in case you trip and fall— brand new, your retro, tricky

Lord, prepare me

For the shadows— pillar of truth, lucy Dacus 

A world of lonely men and no love, no god

Her life of seeming nonchalance can't hide

The pain and fear that in her mind reside— The crutch, Gil Scott heron

Now when the man who sold the world started playing at 9 as I attempted to get back home, no question remained what had been at play. And when it was followed up with the song 45, which when you reduce it becomes a 9….then I knew.

Blondes a 9, for those who have forgotten.

And whores in this house is one of the songs they play when she’s guilty of something.

Then Tora ToraTori /out with the boys started to play, with the line “13 guys and a packet of 3” which are both magic numbers.

The game was rigged, the ref got tricked

The wrong ones think they're right

You were outnumbered, this time 

And the big bad woman and her big bad clan

Their hands are stained with red— only the Young, Taylor Swift

I think I had met my match—Sara, Stevie nicks (this line is a reference to some thing for Bulgarian once it’s ready in 2017. You can look at that hashtag about her. After I went to Bronxville and saw her, she close down her business because she was psychically attacked. In my session with her where is she basically did something inexplicable to get the entity out of me, she talked about how Blond and I were basically equals… Just for different sides. I made a video about it… Maybe it’s time to put that up.

Whatever happened just had to happen oh God I think I got indicted—I know, big sean 

I can't turn off what turns me on—-massseduction, st Vincent 

( addicted to the darkness) 

12:51 played next by the strokes. It equals 9 and was written by a picnic bench that usually sits right by the treewith the lyrics “Kiss me now that I'm older

I won't try to control you”.

Monkey does it’s thing is a reference to me calling the associates monkeys, since they are typically the ones to do shit…in my apartment..wherever I walk…breaking the trees

This is not america seems to play when something laced with trickery has occurred. Bowie wrote it about the demise of honesty and it’s evolution into corruption.

We wait for your move—-all the love, Kate bush

Still need an enemy

The worst ones I can’t see

You can... you can —u2, cedar wood road

In the four track demo of maps, she sings they don’t love me like I love you. To me this is about obsession.

Girls when they fall '

Cause Ed is watching my every sound

I said they’re watching my every sound—Marianne, tori 10:10

Cool, 'cause I'm wired and I'm out of my mind

Warms the dope running down my spine

But I don't care about you and I've got nothing to do

Probably just falling

I think I'm the life and soul

Probably just snorting

I think I can hit the mark

Probably just aiming

I think my name is on your lips

Probably complaining—-I think I’m in love, spiritualized

Not a footprint to be seen—let it go

What could be worse from bill hicks played next. As in, think of the first time it happened. They keep bringing that up.

Look at all the crazy people

I wonder what goes on inside their minds

And so the mystery unfolds

When the black turns into gold—Wayward daughter, drugstore

So where were the spiders
While the fly tried to break our balls?—ziggy

Throwing out the wicked like God did the Devil Try to be the phattest also to stay alive—steve biko (stir it up), a tribe called quest

It's all under my control

I won't hesitate, it's my turn to make that call Some need the light

And some people like the dark, okay, yeah—want to, dua lipa

It's a crime against nature - she's been waiting all night.

I came inside, climbed to your bedroom.

I kissed your eyes awake & then I did what I knew was only

Natural. —birds in your garden, pulp (this is a reference to when blond came in my apt, I wrote about it elsewhere. She took my ring and then I was told the next morning that psychic Jakk came

Into my place and took it.)

Early this morning

When you knocked

Upon my door

An I say

Hello Satan

I believe it's time to go

Me and the Devil

Walking side by side

It must be that old evil spirit

That drop me down in the ground—me and the Devil, Gil scott heron (this one made me gasp when I read the last two lyrics)

Baby, I saw they kicked you down

The moon is bright when you're bound

U-N-D-E-R-G-R-O-U-N-D—baby’s going underground, helium (by the time this played, I was depressed. )

Time cast a spell on you but you won't forget me—-silver springs fleetwood mac

Take you down another level

And get you dancing with the Devil—-wicked games; the weeknd 11:11

Must have been a case

Of hysterical strength

To stand up while the room moved off its axis

—hysterical strength, st. Vincent

(This is especially resonant for me. These are not ordinary falls; if you read about my falls in Yonkers last year, you’ll recall. )

I see people going down

All gods people going down—Sowing seeds, Jesus and Mary chain

Mountain Song by Jane’s addiction is a song about dying a.k.a. cash in honey

That shit had us workin' like we possessed (goddamn)—go legend, big sean

Well, this is what it look like right before you fall—Circles, Mac Miller

She's a witch —Waking the witch, Kate Bush

Okay, so it’s 4 in the afternoon Thursday and I’m still putting this list together…and the louvre just played. My legs started to spark.

(Still I fall).

I'm just the sucker who let you fill her mind. Supernatural.

Can you hear the violence?

I think you get the idea.

[monomonomagines]

i actually sent it in a bit ago but it got eaten lol matchup please if you can...6' straight woman self insert OC is shsl coroner, long blonde hair Im rowdy and adventurous, 13 tattoos, including a butterfly, orchid mantis, a dragon, and a bunch of video game refs. I realize this is a limiting factor for dgrp, but I prefer men to be as tall as me lol...I like someone that can make me feel small, lots of people find me intimidating. love long haired men. love to game and go camping. thank you

Thank you for being so patient with your matchup! I know I took quite a while with it, like the others from last weekend but I do hope that you’ll still enjoy your matches nonetheless!

For your first match, I’d pair you with...

Nekomaru Nidai!

Nekomaru is quite similar to a giant excitable puppy dog. He’s friendly if not over-friendly and wouldn’t be put off even if you did come off as intimidating. He can look it himself to anyone that doesn’t know how kind and loveable he is deep down. He is quite adventurous and strong and would make for a great camping partner. He’d probably want to encourage you to try some sports but if you really didn’t want to he wouldn’t push you. He just wants to always push you to be your best and will gladly be your own personal cheerleader.

For your other match, I’d put you with...

Gonta Gokuhara!

Gonta is quite used to being seen as intimidating himself even despite his childish and kind nature. He normally doesn’t get intimidated easily himself though so he’d easily talk to you. He’s not necessarily rowdy but he would still love to go camping with you and to go out on your own adventures. Plus, he’d love your tattoos that feature any bugs too. He is a lot more bashful compared to Nekomaru but he is still just as loving and supportive and would treat you well like the gentleman he is.

[kackmack]

Fake Smile

Chapter 3

Friday 

“Now for the final fight of the night, We’ve got two outstanding ladies! Standing on the right side we’ve got MANNON OF THE BLACK BEAKS. And on the left we have AELIN THE FIRE BRINGER!” The announcer roared through the speakers.

Bouncing on her toes Aelin looked out to the audience. Mannon must have some kind of following because tonight’s tournament was abnormally crowded.

Kick boxing has always been Aelins escape, her little piece of sanity no matter how fucked up her life is, when she put on those gloves she was no longer Aelin. Even though it was her horrible foster father who forced her to have this physical outlet for his own gain in bets, she didn’t care, she loved it. Aelin loved the feeling of being completely submersed in the fight.

Staring at Mannon, Aelin let the killing calm consume her. As the bell rang.

Mannon striked first with right hand dead strait coming to Aelins face, Aelin dodged at the very last second and the hit whipped Aelins long braid. With Mannon leaving her right side open, Aelin flung her leg straight to Mannons rib cage causing her take a step back. Mannons face went into a feral smile and her left hook caught Aelin by surprise as it went across her face.

Aelin didn’t let the hurt show as she swung and the impact to Mannons right eye was glorious.

On the Fifth and last round, Aelin could feel her limbs start to shake lightly in protest, Mannon has been giving a good show and quit an equal fight, the winner could be either one at this point.

Mannon had just landed a harsh kick to Aelins stomach when the seconds were winding down, on sheer desperation of being hunched over with one hand gripping her stomach, Aelin punched upward, giving Mannon an uppercut that sent her to the ground.

The bell rang and the crowd went crazy, howling and stomping filled the gym.

Aelin didn’t even feel Dorians father grip her arm and throw it up in a victory stance.

“Well there you have it ladies and gentleman. The winner is AELIN THE FIRE BRINGER”

Stumbling out of the ring, Dorain caught her arm and put his face to her ear to whisper something that she didn’t hear at all, causing her to give him a quizzical look.

Dorian didn’t say anything else as he led her to the locker room, Aelin could have sworn she saw a familiar tall silver haired man in a hoodie, from the corner of her eye but she refused to think anything of it.

Entering the locker room Dorian laughed and said “What I was trying to say is, did you want to wait for me to get your winnings together tonight or come back in the morning?

“Well how long would I have to wait here tonight?” Aelin asked.

“Few hours. At latest I’ll be done by around 1 am” Dorian answered.

“Uhh no I’m starving” Aelin laughed as he ungloved her. “Plus its best I don’t walk around with money too late at night”

“Oh by the way, your win tonight is going to bring in a lot of popularity to the gym…. Apparently you just broke Mannons 13 running winning streak.” Dorain said as he exited of the locker room.

Aelin couldn’t help her smirk as she walked out of the gym and made her way to her favorite 50s diner around the corner.

Walking out of  the gym, she heard shouting from behind her, trying her best to ignore it, Aelin increased her pace.

“Hey Bitch”

“Hey Bitch”

“You stupid little bitch, I’m talking to you”

Aelin started to sprint when a large hand gripped her arm and yanked her to the alley.

Aelins head was slammed to the brick wall as three men crowded her.

“Do you know how much money you cost me, bitch?”

Aelin started thrashing against the arms holding her back. She tried, she really did try to keep her mouth shut “Shouldn’t of bet on the wrong horse”

The man laughed low scratchy sound that sounded terrible. “Wrong horse? Mannon has been a sure thing for months. That last punch was illegal and you know that”

“The ref didn’t think so” Aelin answered.

“That’s just because your fucking his son sweet heart”

Aelin thrust her face forward connecting with his. He grunted as he yelled “You fire breathing bitch”.

He followed that with three punches to her face and one hard to her stomach.

Aelin started to whimper with pain and the man smiled.

“What? Can’t fight out of the ring with no gloves?” he said smugly.

“Well have your men let go of me and take me on like a real man” Aelin said through her teeth.

“No I don’t think so.”

Aelin didn’t see the following punch to her stomach.

She let her head hang low and he gripped her jaw up to look at him. At that Aelin spat all the blood that was pooling in her mouth, strait to his face.

One of the men holding her back lifted her up and slammed her to the payment.

Aelins air was knocked completely out of her.

Aelin heard footsteps and she turned her head slightly to see a tall figure running towards her, the man attacked the three men and she didn’t see or hear the rest.

………..

Earlier that day

“Mr. Whitethorn”

“Yes Remelle” Rowan said to his secutary, shifting his face from the computer to meet her eyes, Remelle seemed to blush slightly.

“Mauve is on line one, says its argent.”

“Thank you, Remelle” Rowan said as she left his office.

Rowan couldn’t help but sigh inwardly as he picked up the phone to his boss.

“Rowan, I need you to go to the other side of town and meet up with Rolfie, He’s thinking of pulling his investments and I need you to be…. convincing”

Rowan gritted his teeth as he said “Isn’t that Graviel or Vaughans job?”

“Yes but they are both out of town, Lorcan is a little too tough and Fenrys charm won’t work with Rolfie, he’s a little prickly in that way.” Mauve answered quick.

“Yes mam. I’ll be on my way”

Few hours later, Rowan was walking out of Rolfe’s office, infuriated at how long that negotiation took, he knew Mauve was selling him short by saying prickle.

Rowan was two minutes short of shoving his face to the table when he finally agreed.

Walking down the street, Rowan was trying to let his anger ease before he headed back to the office when something caught his attention

It was the girl. The girl from the French restaurant, her picture was in front of some small gym. Being promoted for some fighting competition tonight against a white haired woman.

Her face looked angry, angry enough to look years older which is why Rowan almost didn’t recognize her until he read “Aelin the fire bringer”. Rowan didn’t know why he laughed, maybe it was the fact that he realized he missed judged her, or because this poster did indeed surprise him.

That night, Rowan didn't know why he was at this gym. He didn't know why he decided against his better judgement to come to the competition. For some odd sick curiosity, Rowan needed to see the fire ball fight.

Standing in the corner in a black hoodie, Rowan tried his best to blend in with the men crowding the ring. He knew he would have to wait awhile before she fought because her being headliner meant she's the last fight of the night.

Finally he saw her bouncing in with a smile as people surrounded her walk to the ring.  

Rowan watched as Aelin was on her toes waiting for the announcers to finished. He noticed that she was in a long sleeve dry fit shirt and shorts showing her long lean tan legs, compared to the white haired girl with a small sports bra and tiny shorts.

As the fight started, Rowan didn't realize he was indeed on his toes watching her every move as she twisted her body and swung, nimble as a cat as she dodged and struck.

Hes never seen people fight with such grace, even with his past in the marines, fighting was always rough but she.... she looked like she was dancing. 

On the last round his nerves were high and his heart was beating fast as the seconds were winding down. He could tell the fight could go either way until Mannon struck hard to Aelins stomach. It almost felt like she struck him because he could feel the blow.

Next thing he knew Aelin struck upward and Mannon was on the floor. The Crowd went crazy around him as they crowned her victor. 

As Aelin stumbled out of the ring, a man held her and Rowan could have sworn he kissed her cheek while leading her out of the gym. Rowan didn't want to acknowledge the pang of jealousy. 

When Rowan was finally able to get out of the gym, he heard some commotion from the other side of the street, he wanted to ignore it, he wanted be on his way but the moment he heard a grunt and a body hit the floor, with blonde hair whipping in the air and hitting the ground he couldn't stop him self from running to her. He couldn't stop himself from flinging his body towards the men to get them off of her. 

Authors note: Okay i really tried not to jump between scenes this time. I hope its better to read. Its my first time switching perspectives hopefully its understandable. 

tags @flowersinvegas @shadowstar2313 @heir2chaos @heymichelle360 @aelinchocolatelover @captain-timetraveldreamer @nish247

[sian22redux]

Field of Dreams

Here we go!  No 2 in the fics I owe @nomadicpixel and @theycallmebecca.  Nomad asked for Steve and a relationship that is new and my brain said how about a little enemies to lovers everyone?  Not to worry it all works out in spectacularly happy fashion--but before that Y/N has a PR disaster to sort out and really, he’s a hard guy to forget, even if he is a little stubborn about Brooklyn. ^_^   

Part 1 of 2.  And obviously the tweets I’ve made and embedded here are not real, do not belong to any real account.  

---------

“Y/N have you seen this?”

Your harried Media VP, Stephanie, uncharacteristically dressed in a rumpled suit and no make-up, barges into your office, trailed by your harried looking PA.  It’s 7 am, mid-morning in LA, and you are jet-lagged; bleary eyed and something that passes for awake after two precious weeks at your New York research labs.  They were heaven, but now it’s back to routine, back to the long days that keep Fleur in Bloomberg’s list of Ones to Watch.

“What is it?” you ask, setting your latte down and rising to your feet just as the pair screech to a halt just before your desk.

From the look of things ‘routine’ will not be today’s best adjective.  Steph, a night-owl through and through, is never here this early.  Her face is flushed and her eyes red as she waves a piece of paper covered with a screen print in your direction.   “It’s a mess is what it is.  And how you should respond I have no idea.”      

No idea?

 Steph can finagle her way out of PR jams that reduce grown men to tears.  “Respond to what?”  With a sense of doom you take the paper from her outstretched hand and quickly scan the contents.  

‘Not shoot O’Malley twice?  What the ever-loving hell?!  

Steve Rogers—THE Steve Rogers—finally gets a twitter account and the first tweet he sends six months later trashes the Dodgers baseball team?!

Your Dodgers.  

“Why is he @CapRogers?” you ask, more than a little stunned as Steph looks on.

Her face is pale and her fingers shake.  No coffee yet this morning.  Mary, your brilliantly practical PA, settles on priorities and quickly hands her a steaming cup.  “Captain America was already taken.”

Of course.  It’s his first ever tweet and the one he’s pinned and everyone has already followed him.  No way any soul on Planet Earth has missed this missile. You scan a few of the 50,000 comments. They range from the politely encouraging <welcome Cap!> to the crassly supportive <F*ckin A!> to the downright militant <Get your own team pal>  

Oh god.  What a perfectly shitty time for this.  Fleur’s new board are well pleased that its initial public offering has gone viral but are still a little wary. Six months of thirty-six hour days and you are secure beyond your wildest dreams: number 25 on Forbes’s Top Thirty under Thirty; lauded in all the trade reports for your business acumen; working hard to turn your chemistry degree to more ground-breaking organic lines.  

It’s been tough but satisfying.  

Buying the Los Angeles Dodgers has been your one gift to yourself.  

It has not been without its bumps. A women in Major League Baseball’s old boys club has ruffled feathers amongst the owners and grey-haired stodgy boardrooms around the world.  You’ve heard it all.  The back-biting and the snide sideswipes.  The outright misogyny.  The threatened egos.  What does she think she’s doing?  What does she know about baseball?  Who does she think she is?

Oddly, the one group that hasn’t groused about the change has been the Dodger’s staff.  You’ve kept their pennant chasing front house crew.  Let the manager and coaching staff stay undisturbed.  Got to know the players and their families.  You love them.  And they are beginning to cautiously love you back. The team is your baby and while your instinct is to not let anyone give them stick, some battles aren’t worth taking on.  Especially from a national icon.

“We didn’t move them, perhaps we don’t need to be too direct,” you point out, hopefully passing the paper back.

“No way,” Steph shakes her auburn head.  “You are Fleur and Fleur is you.  It’s too critical a time.  Besides, if you don’t publically speak out the team might take it as a slight and the True Blue sure will.   He’s too visible a figure.  You’ll have to respond and support LA, show that you are in their corner.”

You groan.  She has a point.  TrueBlue are the diehard LA fans--a colourful and vocal lot—southern California through and through, and they are proud to have a woman owner.  You owe it to them.  

Well then.  You smooth your skirt and sit back down again, flip up your Macbook lid, hurriedly type a few pithy lines.  Steph comes around the back of your desk and scans them over your shoulder, bites her lip while reading.  “You sure it’s what you want, the pointed ref…?” but you nod firmly.  She said direct and this is that.

“Ok…”

There’s a satisfying whoosh as it flies out into the Twittersphere.

Two weeks and a lifetime in business later you pause to smooth down your red evening dress, set your shoulders back and stride forward into the barrage of cameras as you reach to shake the President’s outstretched hand.

It is her inaugural formal State Dinner.  Like the rest of your homeland you are pleased and proud she chose Justin Trudeau of Canada to be the first.  He is confident and always on point, a neighbour with an aligned agenda and you incline your head, almost as thrilled to meet him as her.  The handshake is brief. He jokingly asks in French if you will have the Canadien’s hockey game up on your phone as it isn’t even Spring Training yet (he has read his briefing book), and you laugh, saying that Los Angeles is your home now.  The Kings are King.

The resulting laughing group photos are snapped and Steph, you’re certain, will be wildly pleased.  

After half an hour of polite chat with several CEO’s you know, a quiet gong sounds and you, like the other luminaries, search for your seating card along the white expanse of silver and china-decked dinner table.  

Mme. Y/N Y/N is written in gold on elegant white card. Right next to a name that makes your stomach plummet through the floor.

Captain S. Rogers

Of course the White House has invited prominent expat Canadians.  Of course it has invited Americans Justin would like to meet.  

Oh god.  

You reach for your water glass just as the gold lattice chair pulls out.

“Miss Y/N.”  

A pair of inhumanely blue eyes wait for some acknowledgement and you nod, just a fraction, wondering how in the world you will navigate this.  Was it a joke by the President’s Chief of Staff?  Some kind of not so subtle message?  Or, more worrying, a comment that your pointed retort was not officially appreciated?

“Captain.”

The medal-garnished superhuman in a dress Army uniform takes off his cap and sits down.  Blushes faintly.  Runs a hand through perfectly trimmed blond hair and awkwardly clears his throat, making a blandly positive comment about the weather and décor.

The flowers?  Really? Who thought this was a good idea?

You do your best:  asking after the Avengers’ latest escapade, the health of Agent Hawkeye who is known to have been banged up, the adjustment of his friend.  You are CEO of a multinational beauty empire, formal events with strangers go with the turf, and so you are relieved to note the pleased surprise in Captain Rogers’ eyes.  Not everyone supports James Barnes’ parole.  You’d have thought that that will break the ice but as soon as the appetizer plates are whisked away he turns to his left and engages Canada’s Junior Minister for Defense in a discussion about NATO that lasts until dessert.  

What the?          

Beside you, the US Consel for Montreal looks suitably embarrassed, but there is nothing either of you can do. You pound back a few flutes of champagne and another quite good Whiskey Sour as the speeches arrive with coffee and dessert.  By the time the music starts up and the room applauds Justin’s smooth waltz with the President you are ready to make an escape, get something out of this mildly disastrous night by pigeonholing the head of Lauder for a little competitors chat, when a fresh-faced aide with Maple Leaf pin taps your silk-clad shoulder.

“Madame..”

“-oiselle,” you correct automatically.  

“Le Premier-Ministre serait honoré d'avoir une danse. »  

Of course you will.  You rise and follow the young man onto the dance floor, accept Justin’s outstretched hand and proceed spend a delightful ten minutes flirting with one of the handsomer and more chatty leaders in the world.  Thank heaven. As the cameras click you banter back and forth, relieved you took so much time on your wardrobe.  A sleek but stylish chignon. Marcasite studs. Louboutin heels and fall of red silk slashed to just above your knee.  You look good.  Tomorrow’s morning tweet of you both will likely get thousands of views you think, when a low voice comes off from your left.    

“May I cut in?”

“Of course, Captain.” Justin bows and drops your hand and you are swept up into the arms of the last person you thought would dance.

“Captain Rogers?”  My word his chest is broad. You take a deep breath and dare to look up into those eyes.  They look a little pained but hopeful. “Are you---?”

“Apologizing. Yes.” He quickly nods his head.  “Look, I’m new at this.  Never tried the social media thing before and I kinda..forgot..about the bigger repercussions.”

“Evidently.”  You take a breath, watching his brow furrow and quickly thinking of what to say.  “You are of course entitled to your opinion but blanket statements of where things belong are unfair to the players today. As their owner I have a duty to support them.”

“I know.  Look I didn’t mean to be hard on those guys.”  

The blue eyes droop.  He looks abashed and a little like a puppy taking an expected scolding and so you relent, search for something positive to say. “They’ll recover.  If LA is good at anything is it definitely bouncing back, Captain.“  

“Call me Steve.”

“Steve.”  He’s nodding, looking a little more confident. As he leads you (surprisingly smoothly for one so big) around the floor you start to relax a little. Chat about dancing as a lost art.  Admire the cut of his uniform and the straight line of his jaw.  He is, if anything, more handsome up close and personal, although there is just the faintest twinge of anxiety still in his face.  A Man of Out of Time.  Yes..and still adjusting to the world he’s landed in.     

Maybe you could be generous and try an olive branch.

“Brooklyn are still as famous today as they were then,” you say, squeezing the hand that holds onto yours.  The other at your waist is warm.  “The first team to break the colour barrier.  Nine World Series titles.  Cy Young pitchers and All Star MVPS.  You can be proud of all that they did. ”    

A sunshine smile warms his handsome face.  “I am! Of course I am.  Jeez, they were so much a part of our life Buck and I scrimped and saved every penny we could just to get into the nose-bleed seats.  75 cents was lunch for a week. If we couldn’t find it, we listened on the radio. Everyone did.  Young and old, rich and poor.  They played their games on Sundays so that working stiffs like me could go.  It was the only day we had off: a ticket and beer money was a treat.”

You’re seriously starting to enjoy yourself, listening to him reminisce.  This is a veritable soliloquay.  “Ebbet’s might have been shaped like a bandbox but it was a right-handed slugger’s dream.  McPhail was a genius.  Ladies’ Days for ten cents.  Half price if the temps’ got too high.  I miss it so. Hot wood slats and popcorn and warm beer.”

“The best.”  You grew up with baseball too.  The crazy cement white elephant that was The Big O where the Expos played.  Gary Carter and Bill "The Spaceman" Lee.  Hot, steamy summer nights near Montreal’s broad lazy river.  

But you’ve made the switch—LA are your boys now.  

“Dodger stadium is baseball’s beautiful showplace now,” you explain.  “We have tried to honour Brooklyn’s spirit—playing to win always and keeping the park accessible. There is even a pop-up museum to them.”

He stills and you fall just slightly behind the beat.  “A pop-up museum?”

“Yes.  It has old jerseys and ticket stubs and photos of the team.  It will run until the fall.”  

Steve looks far from impressed.  “That’s all? Nothing permanent? No one’s set up a display to stay?”

You stiffen a little in his big hands, beginning to be a little frustrated. “We do own the trademark. There are statues to Jackie Robinson and "P. W." Reese where the Brooklyn Cyclones play today.”

He snorts derisively.  “Heck that’s mnor league.  And Coney Island. Doesn’t count.  Ebbets Field and Flatbush were their heart and that’s all gone. They’re an ugly old apartment complex now.”        

A frustrated silence falls.  Some how you’ve fallen into it again and you can feel your ire rising.  He isn’t the only fan who’s had a team be traded.  Business is business. A team has to have support at the gate or it isn’t sustainable.  Some, like Brooklyn, move to greener pastures.  And some are forced to fold. 

You stop on the edge of the dance floor and pull back, looking him squarely in the face.  There’s a muscle jumping in his cheek and annoyance deepens the french flavour in your accent.  American icon or no, you’ve had enough with his pity party.   

“I miss the Expos just as much as you do Brooklyn.  My team was traded, too.   But I do try to be more balanced about reality.  I don’t go round trashing the Nats or complaining that Washington has no memorial for them.  At least your Dodgers kept their name!”

Steve blinks and a press camera clicks.  

You both drop hands when the music ends and retreat--him to the bar, and you to ladies room.  

Insufferable. Stubborn. (Gorgeous) Man.  

You try to put the experience behind you, get on with work and cheering on your team, but of course the world conspires to interfere.  

LA clinches their pennant run but the photo of you and Captain America looking daggers at each other tops the front page of every newspaper the next day.

[alitheamateur]

The Grind-Chapter 9

Warnings: Mentions of violence.

Colton had offered to retrieve my car and park it on the top level of the parking garage, so the herd of relentless paparazzi outside wouldn’t catch a shot of me leaving the hotel in clothes from the night before, at 10 a.m the following day. The 16-minute drive back to my apartment had soothed me deeper into a sleepy trance, along with the settling smorgasbord from breakfast. A dizzy nausea was attacking me too, as the nerves for Colton’s fight in only a handful of hours kept growing, and growing. He liked to be the overly-confident big mouth when it came to the topic, but I knew there had to be a sliver of anxious stress somewhere in him. I knew because I’d heard him go on & on about how “important this was to his career,” and he “hated to admit it, but he really needed to prove himself across the world of MMA.” 

I gulped a swig of Pepto Bismol from the bathroom medicine cabinet, and stripped my clothes for a much needed power nap in my bed which suddenly felt like rocky ground after sleeping on the expensive pillowtop at the hotel last night.

Warmer days were more & more frequent in the city now, so I was able to wear a suede peep-toe bootie that night. I followed instruction and sported my leather jacket per Colton’s request, along with a loose-fitting black shift dress that rubbed at my mid-thigh. My makeup a bit more dramatic courtesy of the cobalt blue trace of eyeliner I added, and my hair left down, tousled with loose waves. I never usually let it get much passed shoulder length as it held more tangles in doing so. But, the man in my life had quite the attraction to my now very lengthy, ombre blonde strands. Any time he’d escort me to the shower, I was required to turn my back to him for a brief moment so he could observe the water cascading through my hair, causing it to paint slickly down to the bra line of my back. He combed his digits through the ends, tracing the flow of warm water down to the noticeable dimples indented in the small of my back. So, not quite ready to let go of that particular little habit he had developed, I indulged him with a longer style for now. Wrestling with myself after awaking from my nap, I texted him.

L: Thanks again for last night <3  I’ll be sure to pack my first aid kit in case you need some extra TLC tonight!

Fully expecting just to be left on “read” without a reply, I was all the more pleasantly surprised when I heard his designated text tone chime across the bedroom.

C: No. Thank YOU for last night. And if those medical supplies you’re talkin’ about include a tight fittin’ little nurse outfit then YES PLEASE!!!!! I love you, Livvy Caroline.  

After arriving at the Palumbo Center, I decided to park my Honda in the covered complex rather than on the street, figuring I’d probably be loaded up into the black Suburban that Colt had rented so he & the team could all ride together this weekend, to paint the town after his victory. I tucked my arm through the chained strap of my crossbody purse & adjusted the “L” pendant necklace that was nestled between my cleavage. I felt sexy; important even. No one else in the arena knew that I was the girlfriend of the lethal animal that would be headlining tonight, but I certainly did. And it made me high.

I strolled boldly into the side entrance, greeting one of the guards I had become familiar with throughout the countless other events I had covered at the Palombo. Emmett, a towering steel wall of unyielding strength.

“Pretty as ever, Ms. Liv. How you doin’?” he said with the polite tipping of his worn tan Ascot hat.

“Doing fantastic, Emmett! You ready for this one?” We always exchanged predictive play-by-plays of whatever particular event of the night was, and I appreciated the fact that he didn’t chuckle or mock when a woman such as myself chimed an opinion in regard to athletics. Something rare, but regretfully present at at least two hockey games I attended for work when I first moved here. One being from a coach I approached for a question post-game, stating that he was “sure I could give him pointers on how to improve the teams’ uniforms if he needed them, but otherwise he didn’t have time to speak with me.” That was the first instance I questioned whether the big city of Pittsburgh would ever be the place for me.

“Oooooooooh girl, you know this gonna be a brawl.”

Chuckling lightly to his animated response, I shook my head with a pat to his arm and moved passed to head to the main room and locate my seat. Since I had entered from the private entrance, I had to navigate through the hallways and locker rooms to reach the arena floor. Smiling blankly at by passers, I reached into the side pocket of my bag for the nude lipstick I planned to apply at my pitstop to the restroom. My pace slowed a bit in struggle to locate it, eyes looking down in search. When I finally grasped it tucked away under a wad of crinkled receipts, my gaze lifted again to push open the door of the ladies’ room. However, I couldn’t seem to muster the very minimal effort it would’ve taken to open it, due to the hooded man marching down the wide hallway.

Mac was leading the pack, and Colton tailed the end of the line with his hands settled into the front pocket of a sweatshirt, headphones adorning his neck. His thinned, focused eyes instantly found mine, rendering me unable to even blink. Just as he was strolling right past me, those very same eyes sank to the now heavy rise & fall of my chest, then traced down the span of my glowy, toned legs. Last on the list of body parts for him to make love to with his eyes, he locked his penetrating sights onto my sex, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He need not use words, because I knew unmistakably what those black pupils were envisioning. I watched his head turn then to face forward as he was escorted into what I assumed was his locker room. Now that my underwear were sopping for the evening, that was that.

 The profuse adrenaline spreading like a smoky vapor throughout the arena almost had me stimulated like a wave of lust. Not near as much as the very rated PG-13 encounter I had just had with Colton backstage, but stimulated, nonetheless. Black folding chairs lined the room, neon lights showing the stains of gum, spilled soda and ketchup splatters that covered the concrete floors. My seat was two rows behind the announcers table, and I was pleased with the exceptional view I would have for the fight. The jumbotron hanging from the rafters displayed a countdown clock reading 37 minutes until the match would be underway. I settled in, tucking my purse into my lap after removing my cell phone for some leisure social media catch up to aid in passing the time.

The crowd steadily poured into the empty seats, along with the television broadcasters at the booth in front of me. Luckily, I was able to eaves drop on the preshow now underway, hearing one of the suited men state that “Danny Mendez was in for a true contest with Colton Ritter.” An ounce of relief came over me that there were people other than myself and members of Colt’s camp who sincerely believed he had a very likely shot of stealing the belt tonight, but not enough relief to still the tapping of my toe, or erase the clamming of my twiddling hands. Suddenly the bulbs of the LED gym lights began clicking off row by row, and rap music began to thump from the mega speakers. 15 minutes running down the clock now. Short clips of Danny’s past battles flashed on the theater size screen, along with a few clips from Colton at the gym. Before I knew it, total darkness for a moment, followed by circling blue spotlights all around the cage.

Realizing it was indeed showtime now, whistles, claps and sporadic shouting ensued under the arena rooftop. Everyone began standing when the chords of “Let’s Go” by Run The Jewels struck up and a single white light aimed towards the tunnel entrance. Colton had left me with the daunting responsibility of selecting his song of introduction, so I knew any moment he would emerge into sight when I heard the tune begin.

Colton came trudging into view wearing the same sweatshirt he’d been sporting earlier, only now changed into his red fighting trunks. Mac’s logo, along with several other local business names were stamped as sponsors down the sides of his shorts. I was shocked at how many fans of his were revealed by the off-beat chants of his name, and of course the army of female admirers hooting like retrievers in heat. He didn’t waste any time making his way to the waiting referee, offering no high fives or fist bumps to hecklers swatting over the steel barricades of the aisle. He stripped the sweat absorbed shirt handing it to Mac, raised his arms to be patted from top to feet, then pulled back his lips to reveal he was wearing his required mouthguard. I always loved the way the chunky plastic made his lips fatten out when clenched between his teeth.

Next, the black latex gloves of the official smeared a thin layer of petroleum jelly onto each cheek bone, along the bridge of his nose, then across his perspiring forehead, and granted him entry into the cage door. Colton took one of the three steps entering and proceeded to jog two laps around the perilous steel playpen, rolling and stretching his bulging neck and trap muscles. He continued familiarizing himself with every square inch of the octagon mat taking in deep gulps of air through his nostrils, then exhaling gradually out his mouth. From what I could see, he gave the impression of a man prepared, focused and dangerously hungry for blood. The boom of Danny’s theme song didn’t seem to faulter Colton’s bluish eyes. Clear eyes, just like I had told him.

The second fighter followed his own pattern of flashy introductions kissing the cheeks of two women and a baby along his journey in, then aiming a single middle finger towards Colt during his examination from the same ref. When the door was latched behind him, both warriors stalked their opponent.

The suited announcer took his mark in the center, microphone in hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, good evening and welcome! The following match up is for the Professional Fighter’s Federation Middleweight Championship. Introducing first in the left corner your challenger weighing in at 184 pounds in his PFF debut, Colton Ritterrrrrr.”

“And in your right corner, the current undisputed Middleweight champion with a weight of 181 pounds Danny “The Matador” Mendez.”

I wanted to join the thundering “boo” at the mention of his name too, but refrained professionally. Mendez had fans, but many of them boastful douchebags such as himself.

I felt as if I needed to bury both hands over my heart to trap it inside my chest, and I can only imagine the feelings that were swarming Colton’s body. Tyson O’Brien, the preferred ring official across the circuit was passed the mic and motioned Mendez and Colton to step to him.

“Alright fellas, we’ve been over the rules. Protect yourself at all times, and you will follow my instructions. We’re gonna have a clean fight tonight. Touch gloves.”

Neither seething man extended a hand, instead retreated to their labeled corners with no interest other than drawing blood.

Tyson addressed Colton, “you ready?” Receiving one single nod in answer. After the same reply from his opponent, he dropped a hand to begin the time. The clock began ticking on potentially the most sickeningly vexing 25 minutes on my sheltered life.

 Round One

Twenty-five seconds in, and a fist had yet to be thrown. The two danced gracefully barefoot around each other, faces hid partially behind gloved fists. I could tell by the unsteady breaths from his nostrils that Colt was holding back a brutal eruption. Mac coached him to pace himself, because Mendez had a reputation of exhausting an opponent to the point of break, then he would unleash. So slow and steady would most likely win this race.

Colton would be the first to stretch forth in assault, however only connecting with Mendez’s thrown block. I swear I could hear a wisp of power cut through the air. The instant combo of left-right-right he threw next though, tagged his opponent just below the right eye. Danny smiled at the pain, now extremely ready to get things started indeed. Colton seemed to have a bit of an advantage with a reach much longer than Mendez, resulting in explosive strikes to the reddening body of the predicted victor.  His head movements strategically executed to clear any blows to the face in the first 2.5 minutes, but the leg kicks from the current champ were connecting painfully to his thighs. The handsome combatant carried a slight limp on his left leg for a moment, babying it from the strike. One leg lift however played in his favor when he was able to grab Danny’s calf and manage a powerful takedown that sent his back crashing to the ground.

Before he was pinned under Colt’s powerful legs, he managed to turn on all fours on his elbows. The attempt to escape was lost nevertheless when my red shorted fighter wrapped one arm around his torso, crushing with the force of a vice grip. He had evidently done his homework for this match up. His hands pounded like concrete blocks against the cauliflower ear and exposed temple of Danny, one blow he connected on the corner of his brow even resulted in the first blood secretion on the mat. He was like a great white in the open water inhaling the sent of a wounded seal. His right-hand imposed fist after fist, and Mendez was visibly shook.  37 seconds remained on the timer.

Shortly thereafter the time keeper smacked together his wooden blocks to notify now only 30 seconds left in the round. Dan wormed his way out of the hold to stand to his feet, placing ample space between the two of them for a brief instant before charging Colton with a swift roundhouse kick, thankfully missing. A blow horn shrieked, and the men retreated to corners joined by training staff members. I thought I may need medical attention next when I released a breath of momentary relaxation and noticed the half moons of nail marks I had pushed into the inside of my thigh. This round undoubtably belonged to Colton.

 I was suffocating the urge to dart straight to the concession stand for a generous dose of nerve settling liquor. Was I cut out to be the girlfriend of a fighter? Could I really stomach watching him suffer blow after blow to the head, or have to spend the weeks after a match nursing a concussion? Driving him around the city in search of an oral surgeon to repair the teeth that had been forcibly removed from his gums? Was I thick-skinned enough to tarry that journey? The answer is no. The idea of it all made me want to projectile vomit the lavish breakfast I had with him that morning. The daunting apprehension that even every day mundane tasks like choosing where to get gas, or what facial cleanser wouldn’t cause a rash literally sent my brain into unnerving override. I didn’t have the thickened skin for it. I wasn’t designed for dramatic unraveling’s. But, he was like a computer technician rewiring a hard drive from the inside out when it came to my old habits. Colton Ritter was reviving me, rebuilding me into the daring, strong and ultimately better version of myself, and I would forever be grateful. I could feel myself developing the depth of not only headstrong, flourishing journalist, but loyal, passionate life partner as well.  So, if nursing contusions or taping broken fingers was necessary to my repertoire, then so be it.

I dialed in on the announcers again in effort to gather expert opinion on predictions now that the first round was in the books.

“I’m gonna be real honest with you, man. This is not at all how I saw this going. Ritter came out explosive! The kid ain’t the slouch that most of the locker room had expected. Matter of fact, Jake, a few guys for Danny’s camp have been callin’ him a ‘pretty boy’.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard that little nickname floating around too, Brett. But it seems to me that so-called pretty boy is doin’ some serious punishing in that cage right now. Solid fist round for the newcomer.”

Pretty boy? Colt would roll over if he heard these guys refer to him that way on the radio. It absolutely suited him on the outward appearance, 98% of the heterosexual female population would agree. Still, it lacked the desired malevolent intimidation factor for the nickname of a mixed martial artist.

How can you spin this, Eliiot? Make it work…hmmm… Pittsburgh Pretty Boy? Ew no, too WWE. Pretty boy.. pretty boy. Pretty Boy Punisher? Oooooh, that’s got a ring to it. The Pretty Boy Punisher.

I would definitely add that to my article. Anything to deter the entire world of cage fighting from calling him a pretty boy, and taking him for a joke.  

The coaches scurried suddenly to the outer walls of the cage, clearing out water bottles and folding black stools before the next round began, and inhuman beasts attacked each other once more.  

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935

[endeavour-love-blog]

Nocturne Pt.1

It was mid-Saturday afternoon, and Morse had just picked up Thursday on the news that there had been a murder reported. Unfortunately, he had interrupted the big England match when he called so one could say he needed to get back in the bosses’ good books. “Good..uh..match?” he enquired, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible. “0-0 so far. The ref’s sent off Rattin, mind.” “Has he?” Morse replied, distractedly as he turned the corner. “The Argentine skipper.” Thursday reinforced, looking at his young companion with a look of utter bewilderment. “Yeah. Yeah. Poor old Rattin.” Morse said, trying to sound sure of what he was talking about. “When it comes talking football with you, I might as well show a dog the three-card trick.” Thursday retorted, sighing and looking out the window.

“Victim is Adrien Weiss, sir. Aged 69. Address in North Oxford”, said DS Jakes, matter of factly. “Body was found by the museum attendant, Terence Black, post-grad at Wolsey College, working here for the summer. He was just going around making sure no one had missed the closing bell. Weapon’s over there, taken from one of the display cabinets.” he said, pointing at what looked like a small sword attached to a glistening golden frame, laying in a pool of blood. “It’s a katar.”, said Morse, in his educated tone. Thursday looked up at him from the brim of his hat, giving him the look. “An Indian dagger” he confirmed “Dr DeBryn, what have we got?”, asked Thursday. The doctor looked up from the body and straight at the three men circled around the body, “Blood- lots of it.  A deep single slash across the throat, right to left, trachea sliced through. Carotid artery severed, rapid exsanguination, leading to unconsciousness, cardiovascular collapse and death within a matter of minutes.” Thursday furrowed his brow and nodded as he listened to the Doctor, “No one heard or saw anything?” he asked his men in surprise. “No, sir,” said Jakes, turning to him. “Very few visitors, what with the football on telly. And half the museum's under sheets while they re-catalogue.” “But, we do have a possible motive.” Morse lifted up his head in interest. Robbery. His wallet’s been cleaned out.”

Jakes took the lead in front of Morse as they walked down the long corridor of the museum, their footsteps echoing against the stone floor. Jakes walked with a certain air about him, hands in pockets as he gave out orders, “You make a start with any entries in the visitors' book.”  “Odd choice of weapon, don't you think?” asked Morse, “ A katar's a stabbing blade rather than slashing. Designed to punch through armour.” “It seems to have done the job.”, Jakes replied, smirking. “Oi just wanna warn ya.” he said, stopping Morse with his arm. “New girl starting this week at the office. Word is,” he looked from his left to right, “she’s a bit of a sort so… ya know..” he looked at Morse and raising his eyebrows. Morse looked back blinking, “Know what?”. Jakes rolled his eyes and sighed, switching from one foot to the other, “Ya know… hands off” he grinned and tapped his nose before sauntering off. Morse just sighed, that man thought he was God on Earth.

The cockroaches in the container climbed over one another as if trying to become one with each other. Morse looked at them in fascination before straightening up and turning around to Mr Black, whose office he was in. “You didn't notice anyone unusual?” asked Morse, hands in pocket. “I had half an ear on the wireless.” Mr Black guiltily laughed in response, fiddling with the book in his hand. Morse raised his eyebrow “The football.” “Mr Weiss wasn't a regular visitor, then?” he asked, resuming questions.  “I don't know.” Mr Black said as he handed over the log book to Morse. “Sorry, I only started at the beginning of the long vac.” “You're a post-grad, is that right?”, Morse asked, flicking through the book. “Yes, Economics at Wolsey. One's only allowed to take eight hours a week paid work in term time. A lengthy engagement like this is something of a godsend, a chance to replenish the coffers.” “Something at which the Cardinal himself proved rather adept,” said Morse, looking up from the book and smiling slightly. “Wolsey.” he confirmed. Mr Black has a sudden look of realisation on his face. “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed.” Black said, laughing shallowly. “Not bad for a butcher's son.” “Who's this? -"Miss Danby and party?" “Oh, er”, he puts on his glasses. “A school visit.” “But we're not in term time.” “Summer borders. Blythe Mount School for Girls at Slepe. It's a village, S-L-E-P-E. Out beyond Carterton”

Thursday walked up to the door and rang the bell. The door opened slowly, to a young woman with medium length brown hair and large spectacles. “ Afternoon, miss.Detective Inspector Thursday.” he greeted rather solemnly whilst showing his badge. “Would I be right in thinking that a Mr Adrian Weiss lives at this address?” “Yes, my uncle. Why?” she said, smiling. “Might I come in for a few minutes, miss?”

Morse was driven to the school by a police car. The school was rather dominating on the landscape of woods and hills. “Thanks for the lift.” Morse said as he climbed out the back. “Indian country, matey.” said the driver, Strange.” If County police find a City boy like you poking around, they'll have your for breakfast.”Morse smiled at his friend. “I've er been meaning to ask. I've got this date. The thing is I was wondering if you'd make up a four. She's bringing a friend. Good-looker, apparently. Says she doesn't trust herself with me on her own. I'd do the same for you. So, er... let me know when you want picking up. All right.” Strange waved, driving off. Morse just smiled and rolled his eyes before walking towards the announcing gates.

Can you think of anyone who bore him any ill-will?, asked Thursday. The girl shook her head, arms crossed and looking out the window. “What was his line, miss?” asked Jakes politely.  “Erm Uncle Adrian was called to the Bar in the '30s, but after the war, he was appointed Rouge Dragon pursuivant. A junior officer at the College of Arms.” Thursday turned towards Jakes before picking up what looked like some sort of family tree with historical information down the sides. “Your uncle was retired, though?” “Four years ago.” The girl said, “But he retained a great interest in his subject.”, smiling sadly, “It was...his life.”

Once Morse had walked through the gates, he headed towards the main entrance. He looked to his right to see a group of girls on a blanket on the grass. They all turned their heads to look at him. They all stared at him intensely. In the office, he was sat down across from the Headmistress of the school and another teacher behind her. “These are young impressionable girls. And I'd rather their minds weren't filled with murder and bloodshed.”, said the Headmistress outraged. “Actually, Miss Symes, I'm afraid I must insist. One or more girls may have seen something pertinent to our inquiries.”, Morse continued, determined. “They're summer borders, am I right?” he asked.  “Indeed. These are girls who, for one reason or another, are unable to spend the holiday at home.” spoked the teacher from behind. “Must be hard for them.”  “ I was a summer girl myself.” spoke the Headmistress, “One gets used to it.” Morse nodded. A young girl, around 16 walked into the office. She had an air about her that was one full of wealth and privilege. She offered her hand to Morse as a lady, “Petra. Petra Briers, Head Girl.” She looked him up and down, “Are you really a policeman?” “Yes,” said Morse, his eyes shiting from side to side, looking confused as if he had missed something. Or at least wondering whether this girl really did just ask that. They sat down opposite one another in a separate room. “I'd just like to ask you a few questions if you remember anything about your visit to the museum.” A cold look came over the girl as Morse looked down and grabbed his notebook. “Did anything strike you as odd?”

“Why? What's this all about? Has someone been killed? Is it a murder?” another girl answered. A strange look of excitement spread across her face.

“I was with Miss Danby most of the time.” a younger girl answered, she looked scared almost. “Were there any other visitors you noticed?”

“I don't really care for museums.” Another girl answered, twirling her hair around. 

“I mean, they're all right for teacher's pets and swots like Bunty Glossop. But I'd far sooner be down a club.” “Do you frequent many clubs?” asked Morse, a look of amusement on his face. “All the time,” she answered excitedly, “ in London. Eel Pie, Crawdaddy, The Marquee. ...Do you like the Stones?” she asked, posing a question flirtatiously. Morse gulped.

“It was boring.” A girl answered passionately, arms folded. “We certainly didn't see anything interesting. Just a lot of old museum stuff. It broke the day, I suppose.” 

“There. There was an old couple.” Another girl answered, with a raspier voice and hiding behind her blonde fringe slightly. “She was in a wheelchair and he wore glasses, with one lens blacked out. And a man with a gold watch in a hurry.” Morse wrote this all down. “You notice things,” he said, smiling. “I try not to,” she responded, looking down. “Why? People think you’re showing off?” The girl just nodded silently. “It’s not showing off is it?” he said smiling slightly. The girl smiled back, knowingly.

“What I need to know, Miss Thengardi, is..”  “I didn't do anything,” she responded, powerfully. “No one's suggesting that you did.” The girl just looked up at him.

“Who's that?” asked Morse, looking at a young man, around 17, raking leaves outside.  “That's Billy Karswell, the groundsman's son.” said the teacher from earlier. “He has a somewhat enlivening effect on some of the older girls.” “Shelly Thengardi. Hah. She seems a bit….” started Morse. “Prickly?  Shelly only joined us in the spring. She's been expelled from half a dozen places for fighting and general insolence. But there's no real harm in her, she's just…. a difficult age.” “And her surname, is that Indian?” Yes, Mahratta blood in there somewhere.The other girls tease her for it so she hits back.” “And yourself, Miss Danby, how long have you been at the school?”  “My second summer. Before that, I was a year at St Enid's.” “And you're sure you saw nothing untoward at the museum?” “ No, as I said, the girls held all of my attention throughout.” The girl who noticed things from earlier brought through Morse’s jacket, thunder bellowed outside. Miss Danby sighed, “Macintoshes in July.” “The joys of an English summer, such as it is.” “As well to be prepared, I suppose. It looks as if it may rain again.” “It may if it chooses, with no objections.” The young girl piped up. Contrariwise.” “Tweedledee?” asked Morse to the girl. “Bunty's rather taken with Through The Looking Glass at the moment,” answered Miss Danby. “All right, off you go.” “Yes, miss,” she said and smiled at Morse. Thursday waited outside for Morse as he headed outside with Miss, “Thank you very much for your time, Miss Danby.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “This is a very happy school.” “I'm sure it is.” He headed down the steps as she closed the heavy door, looking flustered slightly.

“You shouldn't have come all this way.” said Morse as he met Thursday, “I called for a patrol.” “Big old place. Anything doing?” “Nothing much. You?” “Sergeant Jakes put the word out via the usual channels, anyone suddenly flush.” “Still think it was a robbery? Till something convinces me otherwise, it's all we've got.” They spoke as they climbed in the car. “Anyone else unusual in the visitors' book?” asked Thursday. “ Mr and Mrs Gardiner from Kingsport, Massachusetts, an American couple. They're staying at the…” Morse’s train of thought was stopped immediately as he caught a glimpse in his wing mirror. In the distance, he could see a figure dressed in white standing next to a bush. He turned around in the car, but nothing was there. “Morse, are you alright?” said Thursday, looking over as he drove off. “Yes, er Yeah.”

[welcometowcwmondaynitro]

WCW Monday Nitro 22/07/1996

WCW opens this week with a shot of Mickey Mouse...

Because why not, I guess. As Tony welcomes us to the program we get a better image of the entrance area:

Probably should have opened with that instead of Mickey to be honest, but what do I know?

We’re treated to a shot on Tony and Larry Z with a VERY excited guy to their left.

That dude is ready for some WCW action. Going to be brutally honest and say neither of those shirts do Larry or Tony any favours.

Schaivone talks about the Olympic Games and Muhammad Ali lightning the torch at the opening ceremony. They then show video of Bishcoff giving a cheque to Ali at Halloween Havoc 1994, for a charity of some kind I assume.

Ali in his prime would have been 100% nWo, for the record. 

As Tony continues to go on about this, there are two ladies in the crowd looking very confused:

Like the cameraman is actually an alien or something.

They then switch to Shaq with Hogan, for some reason...

Again, from years ago. Not sure what relevance this has to the current program. Shaq looks like he’s just realised Jimmy Hart is squeezing his ass, though.

Tony says they will have an answer tonight from the Giant as to whether he’ll accept Hogan’s challenge for the Hog Wild PPV on August 10th. Larry says the Dungeon of Doom will force the Giant to defend his title against Hogan. Because you obviously can’t say no to Sullivan and those stupid, painted on eyebrows.

They show the Outsiders’ bedsheet stunt from last week (it’s amazing how much of the Outsiders they show on this program, considering they apparently don’t want them there).

Our first match begins 3 minutes and 30 seconds into the program. The Blue Bloods music is playing and I’m hoping it’s No Fucks Given Steven Regal, but unfortunately it’s just Squire Dave Taylor along with Jeeves. 

Tony says this is “the hottest ticket in Orlando”, which is funny as I’m not sure the people there actually paid for tickets. I could be wrong but I think they were just allowed in as general park guests.   

Next out is the eternally pissed off Scott Norton. The commentators tell us that Ice Train Vs Scott Norton has been signed for Hog Wild, on the basis of last week’s argument I guess.

 “Squire” Dave Taylor Vs Scott Norton

The Squire is the bad guy here, pretty much just because he isn’t American. The crowd chant “USA” at the start of the match to confirm Taylor is not welcome. This match consists largely of Taylor hitting about twenty european uppercuts whilst running into Norton a few times and falling over. Then this happens. 

Taylor is thrown over the top rope onto the floor. No big deal, right? WRONG. The ref calls for the fucking bell and disqualifies Norton. There is no crowd reaction whatsoever. This was a total waste of time for all involved.

“Squire” Dave Taylor defeats Scott Norton via Disqualification.

The pair of them brawl on the outside for a while as Tony and Larry finally catch up to the fact Norton has been disqualified, as if the bell ringing constantly wasn’t a big enough indicator. 

Norton carries Taylor on his back past the announce team, including the silent blonde woman, and they all duck to avoid being hit by Taylor’s boot or Norton’s girth. Taylor then just kind of falls off Norton’s back and rolls onto the floor. The referee declares Taylor the winner, and he’s very pleased with this. 

Wonderful. Jeez, have only 7 minutes of this show gone by so far?

IRS, aka VK Wallstreet, is cutting a pre-taped promo for his upcoming match against Konnan.

You’ve gotta love the dollar symbol on his jacket. Just to let you know he’s all about money.

Anyway, he tells Konnan that “VK Wallstreet knows international markets and knows international superstars”, he calls K-Dogg the “kingpin of Mexico” but that there’s going to be a “hostile takeover” and Konnan had better be ready. He says this with all the intensity of an infomercial about the benefits of herbal soap.

We come back and Mean Gene is with Arn Anderson, Mongo, Benoit, Debra, Woman and Liz.

They’ve set up that fucking VIP area again. WHY CANDLESTICKS? IT’S STILL LIGHT AND THEY AREN’T EVEN LIT. WHY A MASSIVE PINEAPPLE AND A BIG BOWL OF FRUIT? 

Well, at lest they’re using the area I suppose. Gene asks where Flair is. Anderson says it might be a question in Gene’s mind but it isn’t in any of theirs. He says Flair likes expensive cars and beautiful women, but that he likes one thing more than anything else. Gene says “he likes to showboat” and Arn continues “he likes to make an entrance”. I suppose that’s broadly the same thing. Arn says Flair will be here “right on cue” then takes a bite out of an apple. 

Doesn’t look very tasty.

Gene switches to Mongo and says he’s got his work cut out for him tonight. Mongo yells “OH! Thank you Mean Gene” and says it’s been his pleasure to “take care of a few pretty boys in the WCW” and now he gets a shot at the “real pretty boys” in Macho, Luger and Sting. One of those three fits that description a lot less than the others. Mongo is certainly happy though.

Okerlund suggests to Benoit that Sting, Luger and Macho Man might take out their frustrations regarding the nWo on the Horsemen tonight. Chris Benoit says the three of them will experience the crippler first hand, “unrelentless, vicious, merciless. Silent but violent”

Not sure what the fuck Arn is doing with his face here - did he bite into a sour part of the apple? - but for the record “unrelentless” isn’t a word. You could tell Benoit knew he’d fucked up as he paused briefly after saying it... but it was too late. 

Gene gets a bit too comfortable and asks Mongo for a banana. Mongo pretends to throw it at Gene, who reacts like Mongo is about to chuck a rock at him.

Arn is also holding up a banana. 

Our second match is set to begin. 

Why this guy is wrestling rather than checking the stock market or whatever else is beyond me. There’s an “IRS” chant as he comes out. 

Next out is Konnan looking... colourful.

I swear these guys both came out to the exact same generic, plodding instrumental rock song. Most people are cheering Konnan, but...

Check out the guy on the right. He is booing and giving the thumbs down to Konnan as aggressively as he possibly can. He looks fucking enraged. There is a sharp contrast in style between him and the three beside him. 

Konnan Vs VK Wallstreet

Larry says that Konnan wants the US title back because “he might not get back into the country without it”. It’s not a green card, Larry. 

There’s a fat kid in the front row entertaining himself by doing poses.

In fairness the match is nothing to get excited about. 

VK “IRS” Wallstreet dominates the match and spends the bulk of it working on Konnan’s leg. At one point Larry starts talking about putting women in their place again, but Tony shuts it down straight away. 

Fat kid and his mother or father (can’t really tell) are waving at the camera a lot. 

Well at least they’re having fun I guess. Dat Marvin the Martian t-shirt.

There’s a lot of rest holds in this one. Fairly sure I heard some “boring” chants. 

Match ends when Wallstreet hits Konnan with a samoan drop (which Tony calls the “Wall Street Crash” - geddit?) but then Konnan rolls him up for the pin and this one is over.

Konnan defeats VK Wallstreet via Pin.

Okerlund is back with Sting, Luger and the Macho Man.

Sting is half-hopping on one leg like he forgot to take a piss before he came out. 

Gene notes to Lex Luger that Flair isn’t here yet. Luger says Flair is “probably somewhere”. Yes, you’d hope so. Luger says that last week he got “stomped into a mudhole” (but wasn’t walked dry), “but where were (sic) everybody else? The Stinger and the Macho were in Japan”. He pauses for a moment, giving the camera a look...

Before repeating multiple times that they are here to make “a statement” - seriously, he says this about five times in the space of a minute. 

Sting says that there’s only one guy around here who rides around here in a “big fat limo” and he can “stick it” ... Gene’s face here is hilarious.

Um...

Anyway, Sting says he doesn’t care where Flair is, he just wants to chomp on a Horseman tonight. Alrighty. 

Gene says to Savage that he knows the Horsemen very well. Macho yells that he just wants to fight everybody and get it over with in one night. Oh, Macho, if only you knew.

Another Glacier promo airs. It’s funny because the original promos said “Glacier - coming July 1996″, then it changed to “Glacier - coming soon” and now it just says “Glacier”. From what I remember he debuted in September, so... yeah. Not sure what the delay was other than the realisation Glacier was a really shit concept... but I suppose after all the money spent on vignettes they felt they had to put him out there. We’ll get to that.

Tony says we’re about to see a “brand new 8-man tag”, as if that hasn’t been done before, then there’s a vignette on the participants. It starts with the four of them just... standing on some bridge, whilst generic rock music plays.

I think that’s “jobber” Jim Powers on the right, aloof from the group. He’s way too cool to be standing around with those dorks. Then Powers is walking towards us on the sand taking his shirt off, so we’re now essentially watching Baywatch...

He throws down the t-shirt aggressively, like he’s angry, but we don’t know what he’s angry about. Did he open the fridge and find that his last can of tuna had been eaten? Did he find his girlfriend cheating on him with another dude? Did another wrestler steal his “happy juice”? We’ll never know. I’ve just realised Powers is what would happen if you fused early 90′s Scott Steiner with Rhyno. 

Anyhow, we basically see the exact same shots of Joe Gomez, Alex Wright and the Renegade. Close ups of their faces followed by them walking towards us on the sand taking their shirts off whilst the same generic rock music plays. WCW does realise this show is watched largely by men, right? I mean, I’m sure some guys enjoyed that, but I can’t help but think the general demographic isn’t going to be enthused by these guys posing like they’re in a crossover between Baywatch and a boy band video.

The original JOB squad. 

We thankfully cut back to the arena (where that same fucking song still is playing) and Tony says this will be a “wild and woolly” eight man tag. I’m pretty sure only half of that description makes sense. 

Schiavone tells us a “new member” of the Dungeon of Doom is about to be revealed in this eight man tag. This should be good. Sullivan did say he wanted to bring “all athletes” into the Dungeon so maybe it’ll be Linford Christie. 

Three members of the DoD come out (along with Jimmy Hart), then suddenly a ginger guy wearing stereotypical old Irish clothes comes running out. As he sprints around the ring baring his teeth like a rabid dog, Tony says that he’s called “the leprechaun”. 

I mean, it’s not worse than “the Shark”, but for goodness sake. It’s basically a normal-sized version of Hornswoggle acting like he has the infection from 28 Days Later. This guy is better known as Sgt. Buddy Lee Parker and was one of the main trainers at the WCW Power Plant. This was clearly a demonstration of how some gimmicks will leave you dead on arrival.

The Original JOB Squad Vs The Dungeon of Doom

We are literally about ten seconds into the match before Tony says “there’s a disturbance in the back” and the cameraman literally turns away from the ring and starts running towards the backstage area. Because fuck the match. Some asshole is constantly blowing a whistle, also, which is annoying as hell.

We see a bit more of the match before cutting again to the back.

Hard to see in the dark light but basically the Outsiders have entered the production truck, which evidently has absolutely no security in place whatsoever. It’s amazing how Hall and Nash are pretty much able to do as they please with no security there to try and intervene. 

The Outsiders make the screen fade to black in and out. Tony and Larry are asking how and why Hall and Nash are able to waltz in and just start fucking around with a pretty huge TV show’s live production. Good questions.

Hall and Nash put in headsets and start directing camera shots. Obviously as the TV cameras are actually focused on them they are literally affecting nothing, but... whatever. They look like they’re having a lot of fun, and in fairness this is probably more entertaining than the match going on in the ring.

We do start seeing random crowd pans. 

This kid’s tank top appears to be a few sizes too big. It’s literally falling off him. At first I thought it said “milf” along the top but I don’t think it does. I’m fairly sure that wasn’t a term in 1996. Those were more innocent days. 

WCW yellowshirt security finally arrives and calmly ushers the Outsiders out of the production truck, telling them “we’re trying to do a show”. No shit. 

We go back to the match, which Tony calls “high impact”. We wouldn’t know because we’ve literally seen nothing of it. Schiavone is getting more and more upset by the Outsiders being at “master control”, as he keeps calling it, and says “it’s a crime”. Well... yes, it probably is. 

As Jim “Jobber” Powers stands around outside the ring...

Holla! Teddy Long comes out and informs him next week on Nitro HE’S GOING ONE ON ONE WITH... no, no he doesn’t. We can’t really hear what he’s saying because Zybszko is yelling, asking why Long is out there. 

Powers is fired up by whatever Teddy says and starts cleaning house on the Dungeon. The match breaks down, then out comes the Giant.

He chokeslams the Renegade, Gomez, Powers and “Junior Hitler” Alex Wright. The jobbers are disposed of, the match is obviously thrown out.

The Original JOB Squad defeat The Dungeon of Doom via Disqualification.

Giant accepts a well deserved round of applause for ending that match.

Okerlund rushes to the ring to get involved. He tells Jimmy Hart “you scare me... especially when you’re behind me like that.”

OK. By the way, check out the back of Jimmy’s jacket.

Now if the Taskmaster actually made the effort to put that facepaint on then he’d actually look slightly less stupid. Instead he just chucks on a couple of silly eyebrows and says “that’ll do”. Put a little pride in your work, Sullivan.

Gene asks Giant whether or not he’ll accept Hogan’s challenge for Hog Wild. Giant says that when he came into WCW it was his mission to win the World Heavyweight Championship, and he did that. He said once he won the title he “swore an oath” to defend the belt wherever he needed to defend it. That’s kind of how it works when you’re a champion anyway, but sure. 

Giant says that whilst Hogan has been off in Hollywood making movies and trying to win an Oscar (lol), he’s been wreaking havoc as the “cancer” of WCW. Giant says that once the nWo turned up WCW came running to him, asking what they can do about the nWo. Giant says he’ll chokeslam them all in the middle of the ring. There you go. Easy solution. What was everybody so worried about? 

Gene says to Jimmy Hart that “we saw you at the top of the program with Shaquille and Hulk” ... does Okerlund realise that was in the distant past? Hart ignores Gene and simply says “Hogan, the Giant will be ready for Hog Wild”. Good to know.

The Giant has at least one supporter behind him. 

There’s an advert for WCW Saturday Night, before we cut straight back to a match. The entrances were not televised so we’ll get straight into it.

Diamond Dallas Page Vs Prince Iaukea

I had to google the Prince’s last name. Easy to say, harder to spell. It’s just a case of getting all the vowels in the right places. 

Prince is still wrestling barefoot for some reason. You would have thought somebody would have advised him to put some boots on by now. They aren’t just a fashion accessory, kid.

This match lasts a couple of minutes before Page bounces off the ropes and hits the diamond cutter.

Diamond Dallas Page defeats Prince Iaukea by Pinfall.

Chavo appears in an “up next” promo where he basically tells Dean Malenko to get ready for a fight.

Those eyes mean business.

We get a promo video on the Benoit/Sullivan feud. It focuses on Sullivan’s worrying obsession with taking his opponents to the men’s restroom. No comment.

Chavo Jr is out... no name graphic, though.

For some reason these people are dancing along to Chavo’s generic rock theme...

Except the little girl in the bottom left, who looks bored beyond belief. In her defence, it’s not been a stellar night as far as matches are concerned.

Deano is out next... no name graphic for him, either. I wonder if the Outsiders legit fucked up something in the production truck? 

Chavo Guerrero Jr Vs Dean Malenko

The match begins and there are two oddities. Firstly I’m fairly sure the bell doesn’t ring to start the match, it just starts. Also the camera is panning across the crowd/nitro logo and totally misses the match starting. Good job. Maybe the Outsiders are actually still in the production truck controlling this thing.

A fast paced start to this one. Stinko eventually slows it down and starts hitting a bunch of suplexes and shit. Hour two is about to start and Tony has to remind us about the countdown because the little dynamite count down stick that’s usually in the bottom right corner is not there. I guess they really can’t get any on screen graphics up!

Fireworks go off and Eric Bischoff comes screaming through the audio as if he’s yelling to us from the end of a telephone line. They eventually get this under control, and Bischoff is way more enthusiastic than Tony was towards the end of that first hour.

Bischoff says that Heenan looks nervous, and although Heenan starts to talk you can’t actually hear him. He’s wayyyy in the background. Looks like production glitches aren’t just limited to the onscreen graphics. Some kind of gong sound affect briefly cuts off Bischoff before Heenan comes roaring into commentary on an unnecessarily high volume. 

Malenko continues to work over Chavo as a lone person chants “boooring”. It really isn’t. The match is decent enough. 

I’m telling you, that fat kid and the people who I assume are his family must be some of the most annoying people on the planet judging by how they’re acting like the front row. They’ve spent most of the show waving at the camera, making stupid poses and pretending to ‘fight’ each other. See example below: 

To be fair to the guy on the far left, he’s not really getting so involved with it, but mustache, pink shirt and the chubby funster are just acting like idiots nonstop. Check out the expression of the kid sitting next to fatso:

Yeah. I feel for you.

Malenko has Chavo in this hold for a while, as fireworks randomly start going off. 

Towards the end of the match Jimmy Hart randomly appears to start shotuing encouragement to Malenko. It wasn’t really needed as Malenko has been in pretty much total control for 95% of the match anyway. 

Malenko gets distracted by the mouth of the south, which allows Chavo to sneak up from behind and nearly get the roll-up victory.

But he only gets a two count. Chavo then attempts an inside cradle for another two count.

Match ends when Chavo jumps off the top turnbuckle, but is caught in mid-air by Malenko, slammed to the mat and then wrapped into the Texas Cloverleaf. Game over. 

Dean Malenko defeats Chavo Guerrero Jr via Submission. 

Bischoff continues to hype up Hog Wild with the tagline of one million bikers and you, or whatever. They all get in free so no gate receipts for WCW. Great idea. 

Meng is yelling largely unintelligible stuff. Jimmy Hart tells Ice Train that after he faces Meng he’ll be “cold as ice”. So, dead then? 

We’re back with Bobby and Eric, who says the Outsiders were “slippery enough” to get into the production truck. I mean... come on. Look at them. Two guys over six and a half feet. They aren’t ghosting in there, are they? It’s just lack of security. 

Eric then starts talking about the Giant/Hogan match, he says “talk is cheap, Hogan, and so are you”. There’s a lot of accusations you can level at the Hulkster, brother, but being cheap certainly isn’t one of them. Dude was one on hell of a wedge. 

We’re onto the next match, out comes Ice Train...

Bischoff reckons Ice Train could be one of “the brightest stars in the years to come”. Not quite, Eric, not quite. They’ve at least got the on screen graphics back up, so that’s something. I do love how happy Ice Train looks when he comes out though.

You get the feeling he’s just a super positive guy. 

The crowd are apparently loving the Train...

Except the little girl in the right. I think she’s actually crying. “No more jobbers, please”.

His opponent is Meng.

Get the feeling this one could be quite a stiff match. Ice Train is an absolute tank and Meng is... well, Meng. Speaking of Meng, Eric Bischoff says that “one hundred years ago, these people were cannibals”. I’m not sure that’s true. Apparently Tonga was known as “the friendly islands” when first discovered by European settlers and that was in 1773. It wasn’t the amazon jungle. 

Ice Train Vs Meng

Ice Train starts off this match with some impressive agility, managing a leapfrog over Meng and hitting him with a flying cross body. 

That is one heavy collision. 

Teddy is out here again, watching the match. This guy is all over the place recently. 

Meng and Train exchange some brutal chops outside the ring, before they get back inside and Train takes control. Meng swings momentum back his way and hits a huge leg drop. Meng pretty much continues to dominate. The match is very slow, as you might imagine. 

The match ends when Meng and Train are fighting on the outside, and suddenly Scott Norton appears and attacks Meng.

Norton rams Meng’s head into the ringpost and that’s a DQ.

Meng defeats Ice Train via Disqualification. 

Norton yells into the camera that he’s got Ice Train’s back, and Train won’t have to worry about anything until Hog Wild.

Could have just told him face-to-face, he’s literally a few feet away, but OK. Also not sure how this is watching Train’s back, he just got the guy disqualified. It’s not like Train was being double-teamed by the Dungeon. 

A promo airs of Hogan’s heel turn at the Bash of the Beach and subsequent events, with an attempt at dramatic storytelling by some guy. He asks “who’s next to join the New World Order?” 

Up next...

Eddie says to never underestimate a person, even after you’ve beaten them. Um... well, by that point it doesn’t really matter, does it? I guess he means in the subsequent rematch. 

We then get another Glacier promo. The same one as earlier in the night. They could have at least made two or three to help add variety. 

Now it’s a promo for Hog Wild. Jeez... are we ever going back to the arena? 

Finally, out comes Psychosis.

He has cool music. I can remember thinking Psychosis in general was a decent wrestler with an interesting look. A shame he never really did anything useful in WCW.

Eddie it out and he gets a random burst of pyro from the top of the set. 

Eddie Guerrero Vs Psychosis

Early “Eddie” chant from the crowd. 

Fast chain wrestling to open the bout. It continues in typical lucha fashion. Eddie clotheslines Psychosis over the top rope...

That’ll be a DQ, right? It was for Scott Norton earlier. No? No. Apparently not this time. Always cool when the rules are just applied whenever it suits the storyline. Helps build consistency. 

Well anyway, Eddie flies off the top onto Psychosis...

Bischoff says this is what makes WCW the most exciting place to be. What, rules applied differently depending on the match? Sure, very exciting.

Eddie rolls Psychosis back into the ring, hits a belly-to-back suplex and gets a two. Psychosis manages to hit some offence, then gets up onto the top turnbuckle and hits a flying spin kick.

Eric says that it is “magic”. Psychosis hits a suicide dive on Eddie, then a guillotine leg drop from the top rope.

The landing looks brutal on the back and buttocks though. Bischoff mentions that Psychosis is from “Triple A” and also name drops NJPW, which is interesting, as usually they just say “Mexico” or “Japan” rather than naming specific promotions. From what I remember WCW did have a working relationship with AAA and NJPW so it makes sense for them to mention the companies. They just don’t normally do so.

Match ends when Eddie hits a frankensteiner off the top rope on Psychosis, then gets up there again and flies with the frogsplash...

Doesn’t get much air on it so the landing looks kinda rough for poor old Psychosis. Anyhow, your winner is Eddie Guerrero. 

Eddie Guerrero defeats Psychosis via Pinfall.

Eddie has possibly been the most over wrestler on the show so far. Not a high bar, granted, but still...

Ric Flair’s music hits and some random guy is peering out of the “C” of the WCW sign.

Hello.

We’ve got two horsemen and three horsewomen (?) but no Slick Ric. 

We come back from a break to this...

Arn Anderson peering through blacked out limo windows, I assume looking for Flair. I find it odd that Flair hasn’t so much as contacted his best friend to let him know where he is, and Anderson instead has to resort to trying to see through dimmed limo windows. I know this is the era before cell phones were a big thing but surely somebody could have borrowed Booker T’s huge ass phone to make a call.

Arn eventually gives up and walks to the ring. Looks like he’ll be taking Flair’s place. 

Out come Sting, Luger and Savage.

The name graphics have disappeared again, by the way. Never mind.

Bischoff is insinuating that Flair might have joined the nWo. Heenan refuses to believe it. 

Mongo, Benoit & Arn Anderson Vs Sting, Luger & Savage

Sting and the Endomorph start things. Anderson pushes Sting, who shoves Arn back. Arn goes flying like Sting smacked him with a sledgehammer. Sting gives Arn a back body drop, then Benoit enters the ring. 

Dealt with.

Macho is wearing an extremely colourful outfit.

Like somebody took a paintbrush and just went crazy. It works for him though.

Mongo hits a fairly basic neckbreaker and the commentators act like he just performed a flying headscissors. “What a move from Mongo!” yells Heenan. Yeah. He then calls Mongo “phenomenal”. I think we have very different definitions of that word, Brain.

Mongo hits one if the shittiest looking drop kicks I’ve ever seen.

Heenan goes wild, screaming “look at that drop kick out of McMichaels!” ... maybe he’s actually being sarcastic. 

We get a shot of the limo...

Did they not do this same schtick a couple of weeks back? Just ban limos from the area. Problem solved.

Benoit beats on Sting in the ring. I don’t think Luger or Savage have literally done anything yet. Sting’s done all the work. 

The Horsemen are still beating on Sting. There’s only a few minutes of the program left so we aren’t going to see much from Macho or Luger tonight. Easy money. 

After what seems like an eternity Sting FINALLY tags in Luger, who comes in and starts decking all three of the horsemen.

Luger’s body is extremely shiny. It’s really noticeable.

The match starts to break down with all six men fighting in the ring.

You know something is about to go down. The camera cuts to the women - Debra is about to throw the metal briefcase in to Mongo, but for some reason Woman grabs it before she can and they have a brief tug-of-war. The Macho Man then appears and grabs the briefcase off them.

Bad intentions.

Savage comes in with Mongo’s metal briefcase and whacks Benoit in the back with it. Luger makes the cover...

And your team of babyfaces win using decidedly heel tactics. OK. I guess if you can’t beat them, join them? The crowd are delighted either way. 

We come back after the break and Mean Gene is in the ring with Sting, Luger and Savage. Something gets thrown in the ring, Gene says “please lady, don’t throw your underwear in here. It’s in bad taste” ... at a theme park, I would say so. Jeez. Macho says “that’s OK”. He doesn’t mind.

Sting is first up. Gene asks him about the match he and Luger have against the Outsiders at Hog Wild.

For some reason Sting is holding on to the briefcase. Not a bad idea if the nWo are around in fairness. He seems to be pondering Gene’s question carefully.

Sting says that last week “the Total Package was feeling kind of beat down, you know what I’m saying?” ... well, yes, he was quite literally beaten down. A bit harsh for Sting to be making light of that but whatever. Sting says he and Luger aren’t feeling down, they’re just feeling mean. “I mean real mean”. Sting says he knows when the Outsiders’ birthdays are, and he doesn’t believe in horoscopes, and he was thumbing through the newspaper and the PPV is going to be really bad for them. The date matches Leos and that makes the Outsiders Leos... erm... 

Indeed.

Luger says that the Outsiders have been pushing all the wrong buttons since they first came onto the scene. He says they’ve done a good job of pushing the three of them over the edge. Luger screams that he’s “losing it”, he says he cares about WCW and the Outsiders have had nothing but “disgust, disdain, and sarcasm” for it. Sarcasm doesn’t seem as bad as the first two but I get where he’s going. He says that at the PPV they’ll learn what he, Sting, Macho, WCW and the fans mean. I rag on Luger sometimes but I thought he had good, intense delivery here. He can cut a good promo when he isn’t stumbling over words.

Macho Man is next.

He says he’s talking directly to Hogan (with Luger giving the evil eye in the background). Macho says he’s going to beat Hogan up in the aisle before he gets to the ring to even face the Giant at Hog Wild. You might have wanted to keep that plan to yourself, Macho. Savage says the army, the navy and the militia aren’t going to be able to stop him kicking Hogan’s head in. Not sure the navy would have anything to do with it unless the fight spills onto a boat somewhere, and what’s the difference between the army and the militia? 

Macho finishes the promo by saying “we’ve got a date, don’t be late, suckerrr!” as Luger gurns into the camera and Sting makes a weird face.

Our heroes, ladies and gentlemen.

The show ends there. So no Outsiders or Hulk Hogan. We never find out who was in the limo either. Could have just been somebody randomly parked there, terrified as the Endomorph creepily tries to peer in. 

“If I stay really still and quiet, he’ll go away eventually.”

[rabidwrestlingfan]

Wanted To

Author's note: Yeah, this one got away from me too. Requested by @ohcristimhookedonhavocimsodunne 💙 If you didn't know oVe has taken over our lives. 😂 This one will also have a sequel (who would've known) but after them I promise you'll see some others. Hope you guys like it! 💙

#102. "You hear that? That's the sound of my awesomeness."

Jake Crist

The woman couldn't help but think of leaving as she neared the venue. Her green eyes glanced at the note sitting atop her purse when she parked. Shane had told her that things would be set up, but had given her the note just in case. The first thing she noticed when she got out of the car was someone walking towards her. She couldn't make out the details under the heavy coat, but she was sure it was a man. "Hi." She waved nervously. "You must be the one Shane sent." The man speculated once he reached her. His voice made her eyebrows shoot up. She didn't know why he'd taken her by surprise, but he had. "Sorry to inconvenience you. I let it slip that I'd be in town and Shane insisted that I make a stop here." She was quick to explain, knowing the man probably had better things to do. "It's not a problem. Ya just took me by surprise is all. Didn't expect ya so early." His words made her back up towards the driver door. "I'll just come back later..." She trailed off with another small wave. 

"No! God, that sounded rude. I'm sorry. I just meant that it'll just be us for at least another three hours." He explained, glad that the freezing Ohio winter covered his blush. The woman smiled and nodded. "I'm alright with that if you are. I'm Nova... And you're Jake Crist." She stuck her hand out but he was stuck on her name. "Nova? I'm not even good enough for your real name?" He asked with feigned hurt. It had taken him by surprise that she introduced herself under the name. The woman dramatically rolled her eyes. "I was conceived in the backseat of a Nova and my mom wanted something unique." As if to prove her point she took her id out of her pocket. He couldn't help but laugh when he seen that her name was in fact Nova. "I think it's cool! She definitely succeeded with unique!" Jake exclaimed when she started laughing.  Before she could put her id away he noticed something else. "You're from Columbus?" The blonde asked with a smile. Nova shook her head as she slipped the plastic card in her pocket. "Just where I ended up when I left home." Jake nodded slowly. He could tell it was something she didn't want to discuss.

They agreed to meet in the ring once they got inside and changed. In the meantime he had told Shane that she'd showed up, and even told the guys they had a guest. Shane seemed to think this woman was something special. Jake's head shot up when he heard her nearing. "Your hair..." He muttered softly. Instantly her hand smoothed over the top of her hair. She'd had it tied back and tucked into her hood outside, but now it was in two braids. "Is red and blue? I'm aware." Nova joked as she slid into the ring. The top layers of her hair were dyed bright red while the bottom were vibrant blue. "Shane sent me a clip of the show last week. If you're that good why aren't you booked everywhere?" He blurted. Sure a few seconds weren't enough to truly judge her skills, but they were enough to know she was good. "My ex didn't think women should be in the ring. After about a decade of lies I decided I didn't care what he thought." She explained tensely. "Sorry. That was probably too personal to ask. I really didn't mean to offend you." The blonde apologized after meeting her green eyes. "Fuck him and his stupid ass opinions. I'm just glad that I'm back in the ring." The woman said with a genuine smile. "I have a feeling we're all going to be happy about that."

Over a year later Nova was sitting ringside at the aptly named  Barbed Wire Massacre match. Almost immediately she was gripping Taya's hand and questioning her sanity. "Hey, they've been through worse. These crazy fuckers have been in Tournament of Death, this is... Almost nothing." Taya said in hopes of calming her. Nova knew deep down that she was right, at least about Sami. She'd been by the man's side since they were teenagers. Sami had a decent sense of judgement. Sure he had fireballed Konnan and backed LAX into this match, but he wasn't dumb. He figured this madness was their best shot. She knew that the trio were doing what they had to so they could keep the titles. However that sentiment didn't make watching the match any less brutal. In the end Jake's torso had been completely wrapped in barbed wire, Sami had been beaten with a bat wrapped in barbed wire, and Dave had skewers sticking out of his head. As soon as the ref hit three the two women were rushing backstage. Nova was doing her best to prepare herself for the aftermath of the match. 

By the time the two made it backstage two trainers were just passing by with Dave. Nova could make out the splotches of blood in his brown hair. "I don't care what Thing 2 and the Cat in the Hat are doing. If you don't think I'm forcing them to the trainers too then you're insane." Taya hissed to Dave who was trying to deny the trainer's help. It seemed her words had stuck because he finally let them lead him away. The look on the blonde's face was downright dangerous. "Our best friends are fucking dumbasses, you know? One is wrapped in barbed wire and the other got the snot beat out of him... And they really think they don't need checked out. I'll drag Jake by the fucking barbed wire and Sami by the hair if I have to." She growled, shoving past anyone who was in her way. Nova was right behind her though she was apologizing to everyone they inconvenienced. In the back of her mind the screams of pain that Jake had let out during the match were on replay. She had never dealt with anyone after a hardcore match like this. In reality she didn't know what to expect from any of the men. 

Two pairs of eyes shot to the door when it slammed into the wall. "Told ya." Jake grunted from his spot by the wall. He was doing his best not to cause any more harm to himself. His head was against the wall and his back was awkwardly arched. Sami, who was lying on the floor, blindly flipped him off. All the anger seemed to leave Taya when she seen the pair. Nova was still stood fidgeting in the doorway when the woman knelt in between them. "I'm not going with all this shit." She heard Jake mutter. That shook her from her trance. "You can take Sami and check on Dave. I'll help Jake get free." Immediately Jake turned his face to look at her. "You don't have to do that, supernova. I know that this whole thing kind of threw you off." He told her with a minuscule smile. She knew the nickname was supposed to ease her mind, but it didn't. "Are you going to try to unwrap yourself? Or cut it off by yourself? Both of those sound absolutely idiotic. You begged me to come support you and I did even when I was scared. Let me help you, Jake." Nova stared him in the eyes the whole time, eventually ending up sitting in front of him. When he nodded Taya handed her a pair of wire cutters and heavy duty gloves. 

They decided that cutting the wire in small sections and peeling it away would be the best option. The job had already gone quicker than she expected. The first layers had fallen off without a problem. However the closer to the skin they got the more ensnared the wire became. "Hey, look at me." Jake whispered when he seen her eyebrows furrow. She'd come across three different strands that had woven together. Green eyes met blue when she heard the words. "You're doing great." He complimented before grabbing one of her gloved hands and squeezing it. "You say that now, but wait a few more seconds. The rest of it is all shirt and skin." Her eyes went back to his torso as she clipped a few more bits of wire. Jake did his best to focus on anything else. Except his thoughts were all about various little details about her. It wasn't the first time that he'd noticed any of it. He knew she bit her lip when she was stressed. He knew the small jagged scar behind her ear was from when she was thirteen. It hit him in that moment what his feelings had become. He was utterly in love with the woman in front of him.

Jake was shaken from his thoughts by a stinging pain radiating from his torso. His grunt made her quickly let go of the wire. "You hear that? That's the sound of my awesomeness." The blonde joked to calm her down. She playfully rolled her eyes at his words. "Really? I thought it was the sound of your craziness biting you in the ass." Nova shot back with a smirk of her own. "Two sides of the same coin." He concluded, reaching down to finish pulling the section of wire. He knew that they were finally in the home stretch of things. The woman took his action as a sign to keep going, and started gently puling another strand. Once it was all off of the front of him he started unbuttoning his shirt. "Figured we could peel off the shirt with it and kill two birds with one stone." He explained after he stood up. She knew he was referencing the trainer wanting to see the marks. The shirt came off with few problems. He ended up looking a lot better than she expected. "Thank you, Nova. It means more than you know." He observed as he opened the door. The woman kissed his cheek before she spoke. "You're my best friend, Jake. You helped me when I had no one. This is nothing."

Ten minutes later Jake was lying on a cot in the trainers room. He'd been cleared of anything serious and was told the others had been too. Now all three men were just trying to psyche themselves up to move. Nova could hear Taya muttering something to Sami across the room. Even Krystal had come out of hiding to check on Dave. "You didn't have to do this." Nova whispered as she gently ran her hand over his broken and bruised skin. "I know. Wanted to. Needed to... For my own sanity." He told her just as quietly. His blue eyes tiredly ran over her face for the millionth time. "I'll be fine, supernova." Her eyes went back to his with a small smile. "I know. You're a crazy fucking badass." She replied with a laugh. When she started to pull away Jake's hand shot out. "Promise if you do that for a few more minutes I'll get up." He offered with his best smile. "Kids, there are other people in the room. Save it for the hotel." Dave joked before his laugh turned into a groan. The woman's cheeks were almost as red as her hair but she did as Jake asked. "If you're not careful she'll kick your ass, bro." The blonde warned with a laugh of his own. "Don't worry, Thing 1. I'll wait until you're healed up." Nova shot back after a few seconds. Sami groaned, flicking Taya's arm before he spoke. "You made it a thing. Of all things it had to be that one that stuck!" He whined playfully. 

Jake dozed off the second his head hit the pillow when they made it to the hotel. Nova even had to slip his shoes off before she went to shower. When she opened the bathroom door twenty minutes later she seen him blinking in the dim light. "Didn't mean to wake you." She apologized. The man shook his head before he gently moved to face her bed. "You know I don't sleep this early." He pointed out with a chuckle. "I figured tonight would be a special occasion. It's not every day one of your best friends has to cut you out of barbed wire." She could see the pained look in his face when he heard her words. She knew she'd worded it wrong. "Jake, no." She said as she moved to sit on his bed. Nova grabbed his hand before he could speak. "They only won because Konnan stuck your brother in the head with Skewers. You guys had that match won." He already knew that arguing would be pointless. Without thinking she picked his hand up and kissed his palm. Once she realised what she'd done her cheeks went bright red, hands quickly covering her face. "Oh my god. That was weird. I'm so sorry." She repeated a few times. Suddenly he was leaning up on his elbows and pulling her hands away. "It's okay." Jake mumbled quietly. Slowly Nova lowered her hands and looked into his blue eyes. The woman suddenly became acutely aware of the inches separating them. She didn't know who started leaning but soon enough she could feel his breath on her face. That's when there was a knock on the door, causing her to jump back. "Brought you guys some burgers." Taya said in a singsong voice. "I've got it." Nova mumbled before jumping up.

[treadmilltreats]

I refuse to settle

After years of doing just that,

I have come to the conclusion that I will no longer settle.

I have come way too far in my life to settle for a man that's not perfect for me. Now wait, before you go off on me, I did not say perfect, I said perfect for me, big difference. 

There is no perfect person and I am as far from perfect as they come, and I admit to that all the time. So just so you know, that I am not living in la la land, I am not asking for anything unreasonable, like he has to be 6', blond, 200 lbs, with muscles, blue eyes, make at least 600,000 a year, drive a 750 BMW and be a Virgo. 

Don't laugh I know some women with this list and they will not bulge (well, good luck to them) No, that is unrealistic, but... there are a few things on my list that are non negotiable.

 I will not settle for a man who does not put God first and foremost in his life. I know my religion has saved my life, literally and my faith and my church are the biggest part of my life. I will not sell my soul for a man with money and lose myself, I've been there, done that for 24 years, and that shit will never again. 

I need a man to know this is a package deal, my girls are my best friends and you need to love them just as you love me.

I need a man to embrace my friends and church family as I will never be put in a position to have to chose again 

I will no longer settle for broken, unreliable men. No, I am not here to fix you, you need to work out your issues before you start a relationship.

I took 2 years to work on my issues, I had to own my part in my failed marriage, and figured out what I needed to fix. You must have taken this journey by yourself, don't bring your issues into the next relationship, same problems, same end result. 

I will not be your mother, I've raised two kids and I am not looking to do that again, be a grown up, be a real man.

I will not settle for a lying, cheating or deceitful man. No I deserve to have a man love me enough and love me completely just as I will do that for him.

I will not settle for a man who will disrespect me. Never again, I now know my self worth. I am worthy of being treated like the queen I am, just as I would never disrespect you, you will do the same.

I want someone with a kind heart, that is compassionate, that is close to his family and is there for his friends. Someone who knows his finances and at 50 is not living paycheck to paycheck, sorry I did that at 20, and we are definitely not 20 anymore. 

Someone who is funny, (funny is the new sexy for me) who can laugh at themselves and the world, who has your back and will "let you crash their party" like that Luke Byron song. Someone who would drop everything to be with me, that I come second after God, to him.

Someone who cares enough about himself to be in shape and exercises, enjoys the outdoors, who lives life large and knows how to enjoy being in the moment. I want someone who is a blessing to others, who is compassionate and cares about others and the world.

Is this such an unrealistic list, I ask you?

Isn't this what all human beings should be? 

Not looking to get over or hurt someone else? Am I asking for too much?

Doesn't matter, this is my list, make your own... because I refuse to settle.

I know what kind of woman I am, I will love you until the end of time, I will be your biggest cheerleader, I will have your back, I will fight the world for your honor. I will be there to help you, I would even carry you if you fall. I will be your partner 100%, give my all, care about your feelings, respect you and will always be honest and faithful. 

All I ask is the same in return, that's all and if I can not find someone who is willing to give as much as I am well than I am just fine being by myself because I refuse to settle.

So I am putting it out there, these are the conditions and the deal breakers, so be it!

So today my friends, think long and hard, and ask yourself are you settling because you're lonely? Are you settling because you can't live without someone in your life? Are you settling for half a man or woman who won't or can't give themselvesto you? Take my advice, don't settle, know your worth and take nothing less!

"Be the change you want to see"

 

"And just when the caterpillar thought his life over...he turned into a beautiful butterfly"

**Now released my latest book**

The Blessing in Disguise.... revealed

https://www.amazon.com/Blessing-Disguise-Revealed-story-faith/dp/1074340493/ref=sr_1_19?keywords=the+blessing+in+disguise&qid=1561392004&s=books&sr=1-19

***Now available***

My 1st book The blessing in Disguise 

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[xtinaparade]

4 AM Part 3

Characters: AJ Styles x Tina Henderson (I love these two)

Warnings: angst, cheating, sadness, anger, eventual smut

Summary: After Ain’t No Other Man, Tina and AJ have been together for a while, when AJ has a night out with the guys that leads to him cheating on his girl. Can AJ win back Tina’s trust, or is their relationship broke forever.

Part 1

Part 2

(My picture edit) 

The day went by in a blur. Tina knew that Carmella spent the entire with her, and they went to a nearby spa, but nothing else stuck in her mind. Forcing herself to be the professional she was, Tina showed up at work ready to wrestler. At the run-down meeting, where they all learn who’s facing whom. Tina knew AJ was there, but thankfully he kept himself hidden from her. She did not want to see right now.  

“Okay Tina you are wrestling, Charlotte,” said the producer. “We want to see how the fans react to you two together before starting a full feud.”  

Tina heard a few people take in a hissing breath at that announcement.  Her heart dropped. “What?”  

“You are going after Charlotte today, but we want you to win for now,” said the producer, going on with the run down, not noticing Tina’s expression. Looking up at the blonde bitch, she met the smug look across the room.  

“I’m gonna enjoy beating her ass,” said Tina, standing.  

“Just be careful,” warned Carmella, grabbing her friend’s arm. “Don’t get too violent out there.”  

“Hey Tom,” said Tina, stopping the producer at the end of the run down. “I had an idea for mine and Charlotte’s match tonight. What if she wins because I get DQ’d? I pull a chair out from under the ring and hit her with it. That way I look like the heel, and the baby face looks like the victim? We all win.”

Tom smiled at the idea. “I like it. Go with that. Good thinking, Tina.”

Tina smirked at Charlotte. “Thank you, Tom.”  

Carmella hung her head as she saw the look of pure anger Tina shot at Charlotte. “This isn’t going to end well,” Carmella whispered to Jinder.  

“Yeah, keep an eye on the monitor, and if she loses control, run out and stop her. You two are friends on TV right now,” said Jinder. “The producers won’t get too upset.”  

Carmella nodded, and grabbed Tina’s arm. “Come on, let’s go grab some water.”

Later that night, Tina worked hard to shove her personal feelings of Charlotte out of her mind. Standing in the ring, facing the bitch, Tina wanted nothing more than too grab the blonde by the hair, and knock out some teeth. Okay, so maybe she wasn't trying too hard to shove her feelings down, but Tina was a professional, and would not allow her personal feelings to color her match, too much. Tina allowed for it to look like Charlotte was going to win, when she rolled out of the ring to avoid the pin fall. Smirking right at the crowd, Tina pulled out a metal chair from under the ring, and ram the top into the stomach of Charlotte. Yeah this felt great. Just when she fell form pain, Tina reared back and hit the bitch a few more times, laying her out flat outside of the ring. Lost in the moment, Tina threw the chair aside, and grabbed the blonde bitch by the hair, and whispered in her ear.  

“I know what you did last night, and I swear to god I will hurt you before this is over,” she snarled, slamming her facing in to the padded floor, before standing, and walking away as the ref was screaming at her to leave.  

“Great job tonight, Tina,” Tom told her when he saw her backstage. “The crowed loved the intensity between you two. It really seemed like you can’t stand each other.”

“Just doing my job, Tom,” said Tina, grabbing a nearby water. “I’m I free to go?”

“Yeah, seriously great job out there,” he said, going back to the show.  

The high of the match didn’t last long, and by the time she was showered and changed, Carmella was there with keys in hand. “Ready to go?”

Tina nodded. “Yeah. Do you have wine?”  

“Yeah, and a hot bath with your name on it, back at my place,” she added, wrapping a safe arm around her friend. “Let’s go.”  

“I love him, Mella. I love him so much. I don’t want to let him go. Does that make me a bad person? A weak woman?”  

“No, it doesn’t,” said Carmella, putting their bags in her car. “No, it means you’re in love.”  

“I need that wine and bath,” said Tina, feeling her mind cracking under the pressure of the entire day’s events. She wanted to feel anything else besides the relentless ache in the center of her chest. Thankfully Mella didn’t try to keep distracting her when they reached the apartment.  

“I’ll be in the bathroom,” said Tina, grabbing the entire bottle of wine. She needed to relieve the pain, but she wasn’t going to take pills, drugs, or hurt herself like she used too. WWE cared a lot more about that kind of stuff then ROH did. But she knew of a safer way, taking an extremely cold shower or bath was painful, beyond painful, and that’s what Tina needed right now.  

Taking a gulp of the wine, Tina turned on the cold water full blast, and allowed it to fill the tub before climbing in, bottle in hand. “Oh god,” she whispered, the cold feeling like needles all over. Tina settled in the cold, feeling a sick since of relief fill her soul as the pain from the cold water engulfed her. The pain coursing through her body, settled the pain hammering in her chest. Taking another drink, Tina sank into the water completely, allowing the numbness to slowly take over.  

Carmella sighed as she watched her grab the entire bottle of wine before walking directly to the bathroom. She wanted nothing more than to make it all better, but honestly Carmella had no idea how to do that. Trying to think of how she should help next, she began to make up the guest room. Just as Carmella was finding her friend some pajamas to wear, she heard a knock at her door.  

Sighing, Carmella was not going to allow AJ to see Tina right now. “AJ, you can’t see her,” started Carmella when she opened the door to see a group of men on her door step. “Karl? Luke? Finn? Matt? And Nick? What? Why are all of you here?”  

"We heard what happened between AJ and Tina," said Matt Jackson, half of the tag team the Young Bucks. "We want to make sure she's okay."

“Tina’s become our little sister since Bullet Club" said Karl Anderson. "Can we see her?"  

“Sure, Tina’s just taking a bath. I'll see if she'll be out soon" said Carmella, walking towards her bathroom.  

“How long as she been in there?” asked Finn, a scared look on her face.  

“About ten minutes or so, why?” Carmella wasn’t sure what had them all so spooked. “Guys it’s just a bath.”

Matt ran past Carmella, and found the closed door. "Shit," he muttered, opening the door to finding Tina completely submerged under the water, and a bottle of wine on the ledge.  

“No No No No No,” he muttered, hurrying over to the tub, and not caring about his watch, or clothes, lifted his friend from the water. Hissing at the coldness of the water, all Matt saw was her the blue tint to her skin. "Fuck," he muttered, shaking her for a reaction.

Tina was jolted from her numb state when she felt herself being lifted out of the water. “What the?” she asked, opening her eyes to see Matt, staring at her. “Matt? What are you doing here?”

“Oh God, you’re okay. Okay, you’re okay,” he said, hugging her tight, his breath hitching.  

That’s when she saw the rest, the Bullet club came. Smiling softly, she wrapped her arms around Matt. “I wasn’t trying to do that again, guys. I promise.”

“Once bitten twice shy, Chrissy Girl,” said Karl, kissing the top of her head, as Matt stood, pulling her completely out of the water.  

“Damn girl, your lips are blue,” said Nick looking at her skin. “We need to warm you up.”  

Finn came in with a towel. “Here use this. Carmella is getting a thick blanket, and making soup for you.”  

Tina smiled a little and leaned into Matt, as he carried her into the front room. Sometimes she could get so caught up in not having a real “blood” family, that she forgot about her wrestling brothers. These guys would always be there for her, no matter what happens.  

“I love you,” she whispered, feeling a tear fall. “Thanks for coming.”  

“We’ll always come get you, Chrissy Girl,” said Matt, kissing the top of her head, as Nick helped him wrap her up in a warm blanket, before settling close to her. “And don’t worry we’re gonna stay with you as long as you need us.”

“What about AJ?” she asked, softly.  

“Well the jackass can wait,” hissed Luke. “He needs a good ass whopping if you ask me.”  

Tina chuckled softly at Luke's response. “I agree.”  

[allfandomxreader]

I Love You, Still pt. 5

Pairings: Dean x Reader + (Kind of) Chuck Bass Words: 2,548 Part: 5/? Warnings: There’s literally one curse word. Summary: You visit the Winchester family for the first time since yours and Deans breakup back in high school.  A/N: This is by far the longest part so far and it’s kind of all over the place near the end. I have many ideas where I want this series to go and I’m excited for you guys to read the upcoming chapters!

Tags: @jensen-gal

MASTERLIST 

“Dean!” Mary wraps her son in a warm hug squeezing him gently before her eyes open and land on you, a gasp escapes her mouth and she quickly lets go of her eldest boy. Her eyes search all over you, trying to take you in, to read you, just as she did the first time she met you.

“Hi, Mrs. Winchester,” You offer a sheepish smile to the woman you thought you’d never see again.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve earned to call me Mary a long time ago,” Mary giggles and throws her arms around you as well, “We’ve missed you around here.” She sighs, a wave of relief washes over you as your arms wrap around her, you couldn’t help but smile at her words. “Come in, come in!” Mary leads you into the home you’ve almost forgotten. The floral wallpaper has been stripped from the walls, a new shade of cream has taken its place. The carpet has been replaced with dark hardwood to make it look more open and the furnishings have been changed to look more modern.

“I love what you’ve done to the place,” You marvel at your new surroundings.

“Thanks! John couldn’t quite level out the flooring, he was not happy when I finally just made him hire a carpenter. As you know, cars are more his thing.” You both laugh together as you make your way into the kitchen, as Dean makes his way towards the back door and slips outside without another word. A young blonde stands over the counter peeling potatoes as you enter the large space.

“Oh my, you’re Y/N Y/L/N!” She exclaims dropping the peeler into the large bowl full of potato skins, “I’m a huge fan of your work, it’s an honor to meet you!” She rushes forward, her arm extends for you to take.

“The pleasure is all mine!” You shake her hand, smiles not leaving either of your faces.

“Mary was the one who actually got me into your books, the way you articulate is just,” Her eyes roll to the ceiling searching for words, “Exquisite. I can’t comprehend how you were able to capture such sorrow in your books, each one of them has moved me to tears. Repeatedly.” She gushes.

“Jess is right, your books are incredible, I own them all, Jess liked them so much I bought her all of them for Christmas last year.” You blush at Mary’s compliments, “We’re pretty big fans if you can’t tell.” The three of you laugh while Dean, Sam, and John fill the entryway.

“Well, well, well look who we have here,” John grins as he opens his arms making his way towards you, “It’s about time you came back around!” You fall into John’s embrace with a laugh.

“It’s so good to be here,” You wrap your arms around John for a quick hug, “I do apologize for coming unannounced though.” You say as you pull away.

“Nonsense, you’re always welcome here.” Mary waves her hand, dismissing your apology.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Sam smiles giving your shoulder a quick pat before making his way to Jess to kiss her temple.

“Anyone know what time Cas is getting here?” Mary asks looking between her sons, “Oh, I bet you’re meeting Cas for the first time! He’s Dean’s partner, you’ll love him -he’s a literal angel, by far one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” She explains while everyone nods in agreement, “The boys and Cas are really close friends, I refer to them as the Holy Trinity.” Mary’s laugh fills the room at her joke and soon after, everyone couldn’t help but chime in.

“The game is gonna be on in fifteen minutes boys, we better get in there,” John announces, he pulls open the refrigerator grabbing three beers. The Winchester sons reach out to grab their drinks only to have John yank his arms out of their reach. “Get your own,” He scowls earning a chuckle from Jess and yourself. Sam and Dean roll their eyes at their father and follow him into the living room to get ready for the game.

Jess saunters back to her peeling station and Mary pulls out bowls and spices from the cabinets around her kitchen. “What can I do, Mary?” You ask, wiping your hair into a pony, ready to work. Mary leans against her counter pondering for a moment.

“Do you know how to make your mother’s green bean casserole?” She asks.

“Sure do, I’d be happy to make it.” You smile.

“That’d be wonderful, that was always my favorite dish of hers.” She comments as she slides a large bowl towards you.

“Well, the pressure is on.” You spend the next five minutes gathering the ingredients, you list off everything in your head knowing the recipe by heart. The three of you share the kitchen together with ease, you share funny stories from over the years with one another and Mary spills all of the local gossip, it was as if you never left.

“Wanna try this and tell me if it needs anything else before I bake it?” You offer a spoon towards Mary and she gladly takes it. She takes a spoonful and guides it into her mouth, her eyes droop shut at the flavor.

“Just like I remember, thank you.” She nods approvingly. You pour the contents of the bowl into a baking pan and slide it into the oven. Jess throws her last potato into the pot of boiling water and the three of you sit together at the table. “You’re a much better cook than Lisa.” As the words flow out of Mary’s mouth her eyes grow wide, she and Jess share a look across the table making you grow curious.

“Who’s Lisa?” You question looking between the women. Mary opens her mouth to say something but it quickly shuts once again.

“You should really hear that story from Dean,” Mary sighs, “But I guess I already opened the can of worms, wouldn’t hurt to let you know a little bit.” Both Jess and Mary laugh but you’re far too intrigued to make a sound. “Lisa was Dean’s last girlfriend, they had a pretty bad breakup. I think it messed her up more than it did Dean, but he was still pretty upset about it,” Mary explains. As she continues to talk a pit of jealousy boils in your stomach, you didn’t like to hear that there was someone else. “Lisa…” She trails off trying to find the right words, “Had her own problems,” Jess nods in agreement, “I believe she forced them onto Dean and I wasn’t too fond of that. John and I weren’t her biggest fans,” She admits, “Don’t get me wrong, Lisa was a nice girl but she just wasn’t right for my son,” Mary looks you up and down, “To be honest, we were disappointed it wasn’t you, you left some pretty big shoes to fill and she sure as hell didn’t fill them.” You smile at her.

“Lisa was nice,” Jess agrees, “But she always followed Dean around like a lost puppy, she never would’ve offered to cook or hang out with us. If she were here now, she’d be in the other room watching the game.” Jess gestures towards the living room and as if on cue, the boys shout when a player gets tagged out. She shakes her head at the sound of the men, a smile tugs at her features, “They get so into those games, I’ll never understand.”

The three of you chat until the boys walk into the kitchen triumphantly, interrupting your conversation. “That was definitely a foul, I’m pissed they didn’t call it.” Sam rolls his eyes making his way over to Jess, he rests his hands on her shoulders and squeezes them gently.

“The Ref didn’t have a clue what he was doing.” John shook his head in frustration.

“Did we win or lose?” You ask feeling Dean come up behind you.

“Oh sweetheart, we won. We always do,” Dean moves his hand towards yours, only to flinch it away, you try to contain your disappointment at the absence of his touch.

“Boys, will you set the table while the ladies and I bring in the food?” Mary asks followed by a chorus of ‘yes ma'ams. John grabs plates, Sam grabs napkins and Dean grabs the silverware absentmindedly clanking them together, “Remember to set an extra spot for Cas!” Mary calls after them as they duck into the dining room. Jess grabs her mashed potatoes and you grab your casserole the bottom warms your hands as you carry the tray, the two of you set the side dishes in the middle of the table while Mary brings in her famous macaroni and cheese. John sets down a large plate full of grilled meat once everyone settles into their chairs. Everyone passes the bowls around the table, a pleasant chat washes over the table as the plates get filled. John tells jokes and Sam and Dean bicker back and forth about random things, everything felt right.

“So sorry I’m late, got held up at the station!” A voice calls from the back door.

“No worries Cas, just sat down to eat!” Mary sets all the food closer to the empty seat for Cas’ convenience. Cas enters the room and immediately pulls out his chair, it makes a slight squeak as the legs rub against the hardwood. Cas shrugs off his trenchcoat and drapes it over the back of his chair before sitting in his seat comfortably. Cas’ piercing blue eyes meet yours so intently you swear he’s decoding your soul. “You must be the Y/N I’m always hearing about, it’s lovely to finally meet you.” Heat flushes to your cheeks, you couldn’t help but glance over to Dean, he shifts uncomfortably due to everyone’s gazes.

“I am I suppose,” Cas reaches his hand over the table for you to shake, “Nice to meet you.”

“Trust me, it’s an honor to meet you. Dean talks about you nonstop, it gets annoying after awhile.” Everyone laughs at his confession and  Dean’s cheeks deepen in their shade of red. “Uh oh, I don’t think I was supposed to mention that,” Cas shoots Dean an apologetic smile as he lowers himself into his chair once again.

“There are an abundance of delicious restaurants in New York, but Mary you will always be my favorite cook.” You abruptly change the subject as you bite into the macaroni you’ve been craving for years, she smiles kindly at you as everyone agrees with your statement.

Empty plates litter the dining room table. Everyone sits back holding their stomachs, waiting for the food to digest before anyone dares to move. You carefully stand and pile dirty plates on top of your own, “I call dish duty tonight,” You glide around the sitting family collecting everyone’s dishes. Mary stands to protest, your hand reaches out to her shoulder, “You’ve done quite enough today and it’s the least I can do,” Mary looks you over still not wanting to let a guest do chores in her home, “Please?” She reluctantly nods handing you her plate. You take slow steps into the kitchen balancing the stack of dishes on your own.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Dean’s hands wrap around a chunk of the plates relieving some weight off of your arms.

“No, I got this! Go be with your family,” You place the glassware into the sink, careful not to break anything.

“I live in the same town as my parents and I see them two or three times a week,” Dean sets his own stack of plates on the counter and flicks on the hot water, “I don’t know when or if I’ll see you again, I don’t want to waste the time we have together.” Dean can’t bring himself to look at you, “Also this is a shit load of dishes, you can use all the help you can get.” You laugh and playfully push his arm muttering a quiet ‘thanks’.

Within minutes Dean and yourself had your system perfected, by the time Dean placed the last dish in the cabinet your fingertips were wrinkly and your arms covered in suds. You playfully flick your wet hands towards Dean getting droplets of water all over his features. The eldest Winchester only laughs as he splashes leftover dishwater all over the front of your shirt. “Dean!” You shriek. Without thinking the two of you take turns splashing each other like children until your clothes are soaked through completely.

The family rushes into the kitchen to see what the commotion the two of you made, everyone cackles when they see the state your clothes were in. You and Dean join in on the laughter taking in each other’s soaked appearances. “We should probably head out,” Dean says finally when the laughter ceases. Everyone walks the two of you to Baby to bid their goodbyes on the front lawn.

“Thank you again for having me,” You say while opening your car door, “I’d offer hugs but I doubt any of you want to get wet.” Mary tugs you into her arms anyway.

“You’re always, always welcome here. You’re still apart of this family, Y/N whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t mind that at all,” You admit pulling away from her grasp.

“Oh, Y/N! Mary and I are going wedding dress shopping this week and I would love it if you could come,” Jess blurts taking you by surprise.

“Oh -I,” You stumble on your words not knowing how to respond to the invitation, “Shouldn’t I wouldn’t want to impose on your time together or your big day.” You ramble.

“Please, it would mean a lot,” Jess begs, your eyes find Dean who only offers a slight shrug.

“I’ll be there,” You smile at the future Mrs. Winchester as she squeals in excitement, she gives you a brief hug before you continue to say your goodbyes to the rest of the family.

Metallica plays in the background, drowning out the silence between you and Dean, questions spin in your head from information about Lisa and you wanted to know answers. You watch street lamps pass by Dean’s car quickly trying to ease your wild mind but nothing seemed to help. “Who’s Lisa?” The words tumble out before you even realize you’ve spoken them.

“Someone spilled the beans, huh?” Dean chuckles looking over to you, you couldn’t find the desire to make a sound. “She is my ex-girlfriend,” Dean admits plainly.

“Did you love her?” You didn’t know why the question mattered, of course, he’s allowed to love others but something inside you burned at the thought. Dean stays silent.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He says finally, “You and I have loved many since high school.” He looks over to you, locking eyes for only a moment before switching them back to the road ahead.

“I suppose.” Those were the last words you spoke about her, somewhere deep inside you, you wanted nothing more than to never speak of her again.  

[orpheus44]

I imagine quite a few people with Tumblr blogs might enjoy reading this entire article by Jenny Boylan. Here’s an excerpt:

I like sitting at bars when I’m on my own. My idea of heaven is a dozen oysters, a martini and a book to read. (That night I was reading “The House on Mango Street,” by Sandra Cisneros.) It’s funny how this is heaven for me, while the very same scenario, but seated at a table for one, leaves me lonely and depressed. This is probably because at the bar I can always get the bartender’s attention. Also, watching a talented bartender is a lot like watching a dancer, or a chemist. It’s a quiet kind of theater. I didn’t always like sitting alone at a bar. When I was younger, it seemed to send a very specific message to the boyos. Once, as I waited for a drink, a man approached me and asked, “Say, was your daddy a thief?”I replied, Wait, what? No. He was not. He said, “Well, I don’t know — because somebody stole the stars and put them in your eyes.” Nice. It’s funny how the fact that I had long blond hair used to be my superpower. Now that I am 61, however, I have a new kind of superpower, at least as far as men are concerned: super-invisibility.I never thought it was a particular accident that in the Fantastic Four, Sue Storm-Richards’s superpower was the ability to vanish. I still remember the first time a construction worker whistled at me as I walked through Manhattan. As a feminist, about 90 percent of me thought, How dare he! I am not an object. And the other 10 percent of me thought, Jenny Boylan, you have got it going on. I’m not especially proud of that 10 percent, but it’s there. And so, when I sit solo at a bar now, in my elder days, I am mostly relieved to be left alone, to eat my oysters and read my book and quietly watch the bartender mixing up Americanos and espresso martinis. But every now and then, I admit that some small part of me rather wishes that some stranger would inquire whether my daddy was a thief.

Lovely writing. Here’s the link to the entire article: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/26/opinion/a-woman-walks-into-a-bar.html?em_pos=small&ref=img&nl_art=4&te=1&nl=opinion-today&emc=edit_ty_20190626?campaign_id=39&instance_id=10485&segment_id=14660&user_id=8bdb0976dd39cdbf7a51bfd656e63fc3®i_id=8216281emc=edit_ty_20190626