#can i say i still fw eddie

[happyvoltz]

how we feeling 2022 i mean 2024

[kenphobia]

Hey hey neighbour!

Can I request a angst/comfort howdy or Frank/Eddie x reader?

Kinda want to sob over this puppets.

The reader is from our world and such, but sometimes reader can feel someone staring at their back. But once the reader is left alone Home decides to drag reader in and lock them up? Maybe some also decides to Injure the readeralot

But thank u for writing this! (If u do-)

DISCO DISSOCIATION!

"let the maze of my design carry you on."

summary. frank decides to take his two beloveds on a picnic date! what could go wrong? (oneshot / 1.9k wc / read end notes)

contents. unreality, mentions of dissociation, implied mind-control, accidental gaslighting, local gay entomologist and butterfly enthusiast gets fucked over by a living house. ( n//fw blogs dni )

"(Name), hold on!"

"Try and catch me, sucker!"

Eddie huffed, panting as he fell on the grass, his knees hit the ground with a soft thud. Atop the hill, (Name) stood proudly and grinning before taking a moment to blow a raspberry at the poor and tired mailman.

Frank smiled at the sight, their gaze diverting from their book and to their two lovers as they got closer and closer to them. It was a strange situation they had gotten into, but they were happy with what they got.

(Name) wasn't exactly like them, not like Eddie or anyone in town in fact. Though, they look similar to Wally and Julie, they oozed red substance instead of stuffing and their skin wasn't as soft and fuzzy as the rest. Various parts of them still continue to grow despite being an adult and their way of eating is ... strange to say the least.

But Frank doesn't mind it all. Sure, it was weird, seeing someone who looks like them but is more alike with a banana than anything, but they loved (Name) and couldn't resist falling for them. Eddie couldn't help it too, so they're not the only one.

Right now, they were having a picnic. Or at least, Frank's setting one up whilst Eddie get his revenge on (Name) with a tickle fight and (Name) was very much losing.

"Okay, okay! You win, I'm done so ple, he— PLEASE!" (Name) coughed, heaving as they try to swat away Eddie's wiggling fingers. "LET ME GO!!"

"Not after I did this!" Eddie laughed. He (Name) by their waist and pulled them down on his lap before attacking their face with kisses. Subtle orange smudges covered their face like a glaze over a masterpiece of a painting.

(Name) whined, "You got your kisses, let me go now! I might have flatten your legs."

Eddie planted a final kiss on the lips and buried his face in the crook of their neck. He held their hand within his and left a kiss of orange on an obvious spot, it looked brighter than the light pecks on (Name)'s face.

"Eddie!" (Name) shouted, catching Frank's attention who had been adjusting how the basket sits in the middle of the plaid red blanket.

The puppet only laughed in response, unwrapping his arms around (Name)'s waist. They got up, brushed their clothing off and clear of any dust and turned. Eddie's legs were, yes, flattened, but he easily shaped them back to normal and only wobbled slightly when he stood up.

"See? I'm perfectly fine! Nothing to worry about, love." Eddie ruffled their hair, smiling without a care in the world.

'But still though..."

Frank rolled their eyes playfully and beckoned Eddie and (Name) to come close with his hand. "Come on, you two. Let's eat, so you two can get back to goofing around."

(Name) and Eddie hurriedly ran to where Frank stood and finally start their picnic. Just before the hills were long, drawled out fields of plain grass and the blue, cloudless skies made their picnic more peaceful than ever.

Still, no matter how relaxing and wonderful the entire situation is, Frank couldn't shake off a weird, jittery feeling. Like something was wrong and that picnic was only the calm before the storm. In truth, they had planned this picnic because something was wrong with their lovers, especially (Name), though they hid under the impression of 'needing some bonding time together'.

Frank turned to look at Eddie who seemed well enough, even smiling more widely than usual and enjoying himself in general. Yet, when they turned to (Name), they were ... distracted. Their face held a look of lost, confusion, of distortion, and their eyes were blank and heavily clouded with an unknown feeling.

They always been liked this, always dissociating suddenly on the spot. Frank would understand, they do it too but not like the way (Name) does it. They sit there blankly, as if they just stopped working, living and was nothing more than a husk of they were before. The lights in their head had switched off that very moment and no one was there to respond.

Frank tried their best to listen throughout Eddie's long, tall tales, but they couldn't help looking over to (Name). They seemed to be somewhat listening too, nodding or shaking his head whenever Eddie asked them a question. The larger puppet didn't seem to notice the distant look in their eyes.

When grey took over the sky, they immediately packed up and ran back to the neighborhood as fast they could. And ran they did, arriving at Frank's place dry and safe from the curling thunders and the pouring rain.

As Eddie flopped down on the sofa, feeling awfully tired and parched from all of his long rambling, Frank quickly went to the kitchen to fetch him a glass.

They leaned down, placing a gentle hand on Eddie's shoulder and kissing his forehead. "You stay here and rest up while I get you something to drink, okay?" Frank whispered to his ear, to which Eddie mumbled a 'Thanks, Frankie' and smiled lazily.

"Do you need anything, (Name)?" Frank turned to their other lover who stood closely by the window, a little too close form how they were pressing their forehead on the glass. Frank furrowed their brows at this, worry rattling their mind once again. "...(Name)?"

Something in (Name) snapped, like a rubber band being let loose after being stretched for so long. They turned, still distracted as ever but now they look more alive than they were back at the picnic. "Y-Yes?"

"Do you want anything? Water? Something to eat?" Frank asked, walking up to them and reaching out for their hands, yet (Name) hid them behind their back and stepped back.

The human (as they like to call themself) shook their head, almost violently before offering a gentle, reassuring smile to Frank. "No... No, I'm fine. Thank you, Frank."

Depsite their words, Frank remained unsure but they didn't want to make them uncomfortable, so they nodded and smiled back in hopes to smooth out the strange tensity in the air. "Right, um, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me. Rest up, (Name)."

And so, Frank went to the kitchen, fixing up a glass of water for Eddie and coming back just as quick as they came in. But when they did, (Name) was gone and only Eddie remained on the couch, unmoving from the position Frank and left him in.

Frank frowned and handed Eddie his water. "Hey, Eds?"

The tired puppet hummed, taking a sip from his glass and glanced up to Frank. "Yeah?"

"Where's..." Frank looked around, checking for any sign of (Name) going to the bathroom or to their shared bedroom but uncovered nothing. They took a deep breath in. "Where's (Name)? They were here a while ago."

"(Name)? I thought they were with you?" Eddie raised his brow. He had completely drank all up the water and put it down on the coffee table, seemingly alarmed at Frank's sudden question.

"No, they weren't." Frank turned to the front door, walked up to it in a matter of seconds and went to unlock it. But it always been unlocked, from the moment Frank had touched the knob and the door opened with little to no difficulty, they knew something was wrong.

"...Frank?" Eddie called out from the living room. "Frank, what's wrong?" He had called out again, his tone growing persistently worried and sick.

Through the darkness of the night and storm, Frank could see a familiar silhouette stuck out in the middle of it all. A silhouette so familiar but so strange at the same time that Frank felt a strange feeling of falling, of dizziness, of vertigo.

And it felt sick.

"Frank? Frank! W-Where are you? Where's (N-Name)?" Eddie's voice grew farther and farther, and the warmth, the lights of Frank's home suddenly went out on itself. All they could see, feel and hear was nothing but a cold, bleak darkness and a buzzing noise that Frank soon learned to be TV static.

They also learned the figure was no other than (Name). Drenched in rain water, from head to toe, and looked more rugged than usual. They moved, walked and turned like a broken down marionette being dragged through the streets.

Frank couldn't move nor speak, they could only stand there as their beloved (Name), the bright and always sunny (Name) Eddie and they love, walk towards the very center of the neighborhood: Wally's home. Just Home.

They got closer and closer, and of course, Home opened a door for them. Frank wanted to scream, to shout and warn their lover to stay away from the wretched home that always looked and smelled too off for their liking, the very home that (Name) kept looking and staring each and every night.

But they can't, so they watched as (Name) went in and the door very, very slowly closed on them. Home looked at Frank with an almost mocking, hungry glint in its eyes before the lights finally reached Frank and warmth flooded their senses once again.

"Frankie, is there anything wrong?" Frank flinched slightly under Eddie's sudden hug, feeling his arms firmly but gently over their shoulders and the sudden weight of Eddie's head. "You suddenly got up and left..."

"G-Got up what now-?" Frank looked down, seeing they were dressed up in their sleeping gown and held a small, lit candle in their hands, providing as the only light within the dim hallway. "I— I saw (Name)! They went inside home a-and—!"

"Frank, calm down." Eddie squeezed their shoulders. His forehead creased as he frowned, Frank could sense worry and confusion all over their husband's face. "You're not making sense, what you do mean—?"

"(Name), Our lover! They went out into the rain, a-and Home got them. Don't you remember them?!" Frank hurriedly cut off Eddie, a sudden urge of energy spiked through them as the cold brushes against their soft, fleece skin.

Eddie's brows only furrowed further, the confusion in his eyes intensified. "Frank, I don't think we had another lover. I— Frank, are you okay? Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Wha— Eddie, you know (Name). They were the new neighbor, we've been dating them for months already, don't you know?" Frank tried again, the accursed seeds of dread and fear began spreading through their gut as they prayed to any and every listening god out there for this entire night not to be true. That everything was just a bad dream.

Eddie shook Frank in his arms, his hold tighter and firmer than before. And though, Eddie had tried to still be gentle with the shorter puppet, Frank couldn't help but feel trapped, suffocated from just being in Eddie's hold. "Frank, we never had a new neighbor named (Name), we never had another lover. I— Are you sure you're okay? Are you sure that you're getting enough sleep?"

"Eddie, I—"

"Come on. Let's go to bed, okay? We can... We can talk about this tomorrow morning, does that sound okay with you?" Eddie smiled, his gaze has softened. The front door closed on them as Eddie led Frank to their bedroom, his grasp was less firm and his hand kneaded and rubbed circles on their back.

Frank simply nodded, exhaustion hitting them faster than they realized. They sluggishly nodded, their arms dropping to their sides in an instant. "Yeah, let's... Let's go to sleep." They agreed tiredly, looking back for a final time to only see a large, dark eye staring at them from the window.

notes. so uh i did not see the hurt/comfort part but have this anon. i am sorry but no sorry because this is now one of my favorite fics.... hh kind of, i hated how i writed the first part of the fic and the end hshshshs AAA

but yeah, i love stealing characters' loved ones from them and writing their soul-crushing, nerve-popping, silly-goosing angst and trauma <333 (i am self projecting)

again, my inbox are always open for any requests or mindless chatter!! and any support is appreciated :]]

[luvmarigold]

please don't go (eddie munson x fem!reader)

summary: you open up to eddie about the emotional scars left behind my your past relationships

pairings: eddie munson x reader (all parties involved are over 18)

wc: 1,565

warnings: angst (hurt/comfort), slight n*fw (kissing, dry humping, MINORS DNI), eddie being the best boyfriend ever :’)

important note: this fic has NOT been stolen! i, the original writer, am reposting this on my new blog as my previous blog (spiderl0rd) was wrongfully deleted. as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated! || requests are OPEN || divider by @firefly-graphics

CRASH!

you nearly jump out of your skin as another deafening clap of thunder shakes the walls of eddie’s trailer. you glance up to see the brunette staring glumly out the window at the storm, a torrential downpour seemingly coming out of nowhere.

disappointed, you flop face-first into his mattress, letting out a frustrated groan. “welp, there goes our plans for the day,” he mutters to himself. you had been looking forward to spending your rare day off out on the town with your boyfriend but the weather, it seemed, had other plans.

you feel the bed sink as he plops down on the bed next to you, “don’t fret, babydoll. we can still figure something out. after things dry off out there, what d’ya say we take the van out to the lake and have a little picnic?”

you turn your head to look at him, a slight pout on your lips, “okay…”

“aw, no need to be sad, angel. c’mere,” he says, scooting up towards his headboard before patting his bare chest, beckoning you towards him. you oblige, slowly crawling up towards him and laying your head directly above his heart. absentmindedly, you begin to trace his tattoos with your fingertips as you let your mind wander. you never quite understood why people thought that they made him look scary because they were genuinely one of your favorite things about him.

it was moments like these that you cherished the most: just you and him curled into one another as the rest of the world melts away. with eddie being your first real boyfriend, you still were learning how to navigate the whole relationship thing. eddie, however, made being with him so easy. every time he looks at you, you would have thought you’d hung the moon. to him, you were everything and more.

it honestly scared you how much you loved him. before getting together, you had dated around a bit and sure, there were guys that you liked and had chemistry with, but those turned out to be none other than wastes of time. none of them held a candle to your eddie. just being in the same room with him made you feel like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. you know that if you were to ever break up, it would absolutely ruin you.

noticing your pensive expression, he gently pokes you in the middle of your forehead before asking, “what’s going on in that brain of yours?”

you just mumble a quiet “nothing,” not really knowing how to put into words how you were feeling.

“hey, don’t do that,” he scolds, softly tilting your chin up to look at him, “you alright?”

you attempt to laugh off his concern, “eddie, i’m fine.” his eyes dance back and forth between your own looking for any indication as to what’s got you so quiet before speaking up again, “you sure?”

“positive.”

not quite convinced, he just nods, not wanting to press the issue any further and end up causing you to close yourself off completely. he’s only able to observe you for a second longer before you lean up to press your lips to his, in desperate need of a distraction from your own racing thoughts.

his resolve quickly crumbles away as he pulls you in closer by your waist, his other hand gingerly cupping your cheek.

you immediately deepened the kiss, allowing yourself to massage his tongue with your own. he grunts at this as he pulls you into his lap, wanting to be as close to you as humanly possible. you gasp into his mouth as you feel the evidence of his arousal. 

he moves his hands down to your hips, grasping them firmly as he urges you to roll them over his own. his lips detach from your for a brief moment before he begins trailing kisses along your jaw, lips brushing your ear, “you’re so beautiful,” he whispers before continuing his descent down the column of your throat, licking, sucking, biting, desperate to leave his mark.

your breath hastened but not from the intensity of the kiss. you felt your blood run cold, goosebumps erupting on the surface of your skin. your heart was beating so loud that you could barely hear yourself think. you attempt to break apart but eddie simply groans and pulls you in closer, not noticing your panicked state. you place a hand on his chest to push him away, “eddie, stop, i can’t breathe.”

he finally gets the hint as you hurriedly climb off of his lap, scooting towards the end of the bed to hide your face in your hands, not wanting him to see the tears in your eyes that threatened to spill over.

“woah, woah, woah! baby, what happened? what’s going on?” he frantically asks, rushing to occupy the space next to you.

“nothing. i’m fine, okay? just… give me a minute.” you sigh, trying to gain your composure. 

after a few moments of silence, you feel him cautiously place a hand on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles on the exposed skin. “y/n, can you please look at me?” you reluctantly lock eyes with him, hurt evident on his face. “what’s wrong?”

“noth-”

“-and don’t say ‘nothing’ because there’s obviously something very wrong.”

your mouth snaps shut as you mull over how to approach this conversation. he scoots closer to you, draping a comforting arm around your shoulders. he relaxes a bit when you show no signs of wanting to move away.

“please don’t shut me out. i want you to feel like you can talk to me. i want to be able to help you with whatever it is you’re dealing with. i can’t do that if you don’t let me in. please, let me in sweetheart.”

he’s right. you know that in order for you to take the next step in your relationship you have to allow yourself to be more open and vulnerable, regardless of how terrifying that may be. you release a shaky breath before nodding. here goes nothing…

“it’s not that i don’t want to be with you in that way, trust me when i say you have no idea just how badly i do. i’m just…scared, i guess.”

“shit, y/n. i’m so sorry if i got carried away. i never meant to pressure you or make you uncomfortable, i wasn’t thinking.”

“no, ed, it’s not that. please don’t apologize, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” you see his panicked expression soften, some tension leaving his shoulders at your reassurance. 

“okay…” he trails off, gears still spinning in his brain as he tries to pinpoint what’s gotten you so obsessed. “if it’s not that then what is it if you don’t mind me asking?”

“it’s just-” you cut yourself off, contemplating how you want to word what you’re about to share with him, “in all of my past relationships, if you can even call them that, the guys would court me, sweet talk me. they would create this fantasy of a perfect future together and i would fall into their trap every single time. come to find out that they never even gave a fuck about me at all. they just wanted to get into my pants. once they got what they wanted, they would run for the hills, never to be seen or heard from again.”

he shifts to envelop your hands in his own, pulling them into your lap before you continue.

“don’t get me wrong, i know that’s not you. you would never pull some bullshit like that, but i can’t help the little part of me that’s terrified of waking up to an empty bed the next morning if we do decide to take that next step, y’know?”

“oh, angel. i’m so sorry.” he whispers, pulling you back onto his lap and resting his forehead against your own, gathering your thoughts. “i need you to know that you didn’t deserve that and what you’re feeling is completely valid. if i ever see those assholes, i’ll kill them for hurting my girl, i swear to god.”

you let out a tearful chuckle feeling some of your anxiety fade away, “no, you don’t have to do that. he laughs quietly, happy to see you smiling again, “okay, okay. in all seriousness though, you’re it for me, y/n. i knew it from the moment we had our first kiss in the back of my van. i’d wait for you forever.”

“really?”

“really,” he affirms, thumbing away your tears. you simply nod, grabbing his face in your hands before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, “thank you.” he shakes his head, gently pulling your hands off of him and pressing them to his chest, right over his heart.

“no need to thank me. i’ll always show up for you, whatever you need, no matter the time, i’ll always come running,” he promises, peppering kisses on each of your knuckles. “now come on, i think we both deserve some rest,” he urges, pulling you up towards his headboard. 

you rest your head on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you. you feel him rest his chin on your head as he begins to rub soothing circles on your back, 

“just close your eyes sweetheart, i promise i will still be here when you open them again.”

[patriaamorcito]

The year is 2016. Eddie was outside at a park in the Bay with Romeo, smoking on Biscotti from the cookie store when his girlfriend of the week, Alyssa, called. They had a long conversation in only 15 short minutes, and throughout it, Romeo could hear the pain in his voice as the girl screamed at him. Sighing because he’s been waiting for Eddie to let go of all the girls he talks to and focus on music, Romeo puts the blunt out and goes back inside his house across the street from the park. He works on a beat, thinking about the adventures he’s had with their friends lately since Eddie decided to go to California in the summer. There’ve been ups and downs, but he’s enjoyed the moments.

Eddie walks into the studio still on the phone and says, “I know you’ve been mad at me lately, but like I got nothing but love for you, you feel me? You keep saying a lot of crazy shit I’m not going for, and a lot of guys in this shit would act like they’re hard body or something and yell at you or curse you out, but that ain’t me, you know I’m real warm-hearted.” He hangs up the phone after this.

Romeo looks at him and says, “Everything alright, bro? She sounded mad when we were at the park.”

Eddie replies, “Yeah, bro, but you’re right. I need to let go of this girl.”

“Really, all of them?” Romeo rolls his eyes and laughs, saying, “Pinche Wey, I’ve been telling you this, bro.”

Standing up and walking into the recording booth, Eddie says, “Yeah, bro, like I said, you’ve been right, as usual! But right now, I need to get some stuff off my chest. She was talking a lot about how I’m broke and blah blah and how she’s gonna go fw some rich street guy, but like tricking was never my thing.”

“Play the beat, gang. I’ma start freestyling, and we can punch in from there,” Eddie says as he opens his phone, looks at ten unsent messages from Alyssa. Shaking his head as if to say no, he starts to rap into the mic.

“Alright, let’s go. Hurry up; I gotta go to work later,” Romeo says as he presses record.

Lyrics : Lyrics :

Intro

“I know you been mad at me lately but like i got nothing but love you feel me a lotta niggas in this Shit would act like they hard body or something but that ain’t me real warm hearted”

[Verse 1]

I made bring soft look cool (yeah!)

Y’all niggas be hating ya selves (haha)

Cyber chase we breakin the rules

My uncle got cash in the cell (KASH!)

I’m just bickin back being bool

What’s next only time will tell

I wasn’t the coolest kid back in school

In these bars I find myself

[Verse 2]

Rip Gus takin real xans

I don’t overthink I just like plans

My brothers keeper give a fuck ’bout fans

We in the club makin sad kids dance

You sold your soul for an advance

She shakin her ass she makin it clap

She fell in love with the way that I rap

Made a good impression had to laugh

I be depressed ’cause niggas move bad

You ain’t listen you ain’t follow the plan

[Verse 3]

I was off acid now I understand

You a broke boy you live in the past

Pass me the ball I get it in fast

Off a thirty I’m makin it last.

Yeah they broke that’s why they be mad

You want change then go get a bag

[Chorus]

This earth wasn’t built for pain

World of colour they making it gray

Niggas fake that’s why they be lame

You gon fall off if you livin’ with hate

Livin different I’m switching my lane

She want my time then she gotta pay

Off the gas and I’m floating in space

Feel like Clark Kent think I’m from space

Ion swipe no more but could tell you some plays

Gettin money from ownership a different way

Don’t tell me you love me you don’t feel the same

I could still hear her voice in my brain

Is it a bird a man or a plane

I’m made of steel but my heart aches

Rolling up my problems I smoke ’em away

[Verse 4]

I made bring soft look cool (yeah!)

Y’all niggas be hating ya selves (haha)

Cyber chase we breakin the rules

My uncle got cash in the cell (KASH!)

I’m just bickin back being bool

What’s next only time will tell

I wasn’t the coolest kid back in school

In these bars I find myself

[roguish-gallery]

Reader has just been captured by Arkham Riddler's goons! They're gonna be used in Nygma's next plan to beat the Bat! They must've been captured after failing one of his traps. Except they didn't. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Actually reader LIKES riddles and puzzles. They test out and play Nygma's traps for fun and survive. Looks like Eddie's new victim is smarter than they look. And it looks like they may actually have a fondness for him. After all, they DO admit to admiring him.

Arkham!Edward + Reader That Refuses to Die

Oughhhh anon,,, I had so much fun writing this and it kinda sorta turned into a giant experimental shitpost I’m so sorry,,, I hope u enjoy it in spite of this. Everything is under the readmore because this thing is massive. Slight warning for light ns/fw mentions

He’ll entertain your survival for maybe an hour, maybe two, before he realizes that he probably won’t be able to kill them through his puzzles. His mild bemusement is turning into annoyance. God damn it, these traps are supposed to fucking kill Batman, and some rando he picked off the street is solving them with ease? Is he off his game? Are his games not as clever as they’re supposed to be? Jesus Fucking Christ, now he’s got a migraine on top of everything else.

“Okay, that’s it!” Deathtrap turns off. Lights turn on, and a goon shuffles into the hallway to escort you out of the building. Edward’s voice crackles over the intercom- he’s not even going to give you the decency of showing his face over the video monitors. “Game’s over. Get out.”

“This is about stroking my ego," He says. "not about you having fun. You’re probably cheating anyway.”

You try and reason with him, mentioning that you've admired his past works.

“Okay??? I like me too. So does everyone else. What does that have to do with anything???”

This bickering goes on for a surprisingly long time. You obviously cannot see it from where you are, but Edward is like this *this* close to having a tantrum and needing to furiously jack off to get rid of this pent-up energy.

“Here’s a riddle for you, jackass- what refuses to die, unchubs my dick, and is a pain in my ass?”

“An STD?”

“Wha-?! N-no!! Shut up!!! Shut up shut up shut up!! I was talking about YOU, you- you troglodyte! Get off of my property.”

You hear the victim in the adjacent room ask if they can leave too.

“No, I need you to get your dick chewed off by those feral eels to make me feel better. If anything, the fact that I’m giving you an extension to solve that 17X17 Rubik’s cube is more than generous. If you somehow still fail to solve it and fall into my pit filled with dick-eating feral eels, well, that’s on you.”

You wake up on the floor of a Waffle House with a splitting headache. The goons must have given you chloroform so you wouldn’t be able to find the hideout. The employees and the other patrons take no notice of you because they are too preoccupied with their own headaches. Checking your pockets, you realize that Edward had given you some change to order some hashbrowns- that’s the closest you’ll get to him begrudgingly recognizing your ability to solve his puzzles.

Meanwhile, Ed is beside himself in anguish. How could he ever hope to outwit Batman now? He needs to lick his wounds and take time off to bounce back to his usual self.

_____________________

Okay! It’s a new day, and Edward has refitted his hideout with a ton of new, zesty deathtraps! These will surely kill Batman!!!

….. Right?

Well…

Hmm… there’s only one true way to know if these will work or not.

You wake up on a platform suspended above a pit filled with twice the amount of dick-eating feral eels. There is an 18X18 Rubik’s cube at your feet. Edward is polite enough to turn his video monitor on when he’s addressing you this time.

“Okay! I have kidnapped you to run through my gauntlet of genius to see if my traps are of any actual value. Your compensation will come in the form of your survival, this bottle of half-used ringworm mediation that I don’t need anymore, and a pack of peanut M&Ms.”

When you beat them again, Edward doesn’t throw a tantrum, he just slouches in his chair. He’s not mad, just disappointed in himself.

Should you say something? You apologize, just to be safe.

“No, no. You didn’t do anything wrong, it was foolish of me to assume that these traps were actually worthwhile.” He sighs, and rubs his temples in frustration. “You can go home. I’ll find you when I’ve made more traps, okay?”

You suggest going out to get something to eat and to blow off some steam- a Waffle House, perhaps.

He lifts his head from his hands, and slowly nods his head. “... Yeah. I guess I could go for some hashbrowns. Okay, I’ll get my wallet.”

Eventually, this turns into a regular thing- Edward kidnaps you, you solve his puzzles, and you go out for hashbrowns after. Kidnapping is kind of a loose term at this point, too- Edward eventually gives you his address (in riddles, obviously) because it saves him money on chloroform, and he didn't want anything in your system that could potentially hinder your performance in his death maze.

After a while... the death traps just kinda stop altogether, and he just invites you over to play touhou or to vape- Edward even apologizes for calling you a troglodyte the first time he met you, and admits that of all the people he's ever met, you come pretty close to his own intelligence. You're also... kind of his type. He's uhhhh... free for dinner next Saturday if you wanna talk about setting up traps for Batman or if you just wanna talk about your interests btw...

[boneandfur]

Marry in Haste - Chapter 9, pt 1

rating: M (N*FW) // note: posted on mobile where there is a cut. Not sure about the app. In any case if it doesn't cut on the app, I'm sorry.

To catch up: Masterlist for MIH

tag list: (updated) @darley1101 @ritachacha @debramcg1106 @indiacater @thatcatlady0716 @enmchoices @breaumonts @walkerismychoice @princess-geek

Interlude.

A few months later. 1820.

"... and I must have a smart curricle, with two gray horses to pull it, and a darling little page from the West Indies to carry my purchases, and some ready money to play faro, and... Mr Marlcaster, sir! Have you not heard a word I have said?! Cor!" Briar tweaks Marlcaster's nipple, and he pushes her away, rolling over with a grunt. "You can't even listen to me for one bloody minute? Well, I suppose I must have other charms." Briar tugs at Marlcaster insistently until he rolls back over, and she lifts her nightshift over her head, straddling him. Her body is still supple and sleek despite bearing him two children, yet she arouses no desire in him. She spits on her hand and then grips his cock, moving it slowly up and down in a practiced motion, twirling her palm over the head. It lies flaccid between them, unmoved.

"Not tonight," Marlcaster groans, pushing her hands away. I can't bear this farce, not tonight. It has been months since Perdita left for Edgewater. They have been long, torturous months, bleak and lonely. Every time the front door had opened to admit a caller in the weeks after the race, he had hoped it would be Perdita, declaring I refuse to leave, I never meant to hurt you...

"You're thinking about her again!" Briar explodes, shoving at him. "Stop thinkin' about 'er!" She loses her fine, put-upon accent as she chokes on her bitterness -- wanton and grasping she may be, but even he must ruefully admit that she is still the mother of his sons. Would that she were not! "I see it on your face! Stop thinkin' about that -- that bitch!"

Marlcaster grasps her wrists, sitting up. "Shut up."

"I won't! She's a whore, Edmund! Spreading her legs for her Mr Sinclaire! Why can't you see--"

"Shut up!" Marlcaster thunders, pulling himself away from his mistress' grasping hands. "She is my wife," he growls. "And you will speak of her with respect, when you speak of her at all, which is never. She is not in this bed with us." And yet, she is...

"You don't know nothin', Eddie." Briar flounces off the bed and goes to the vanity, where she stands before the mirror, emotions warring on her face as he hobbles up behind her. He should want her, after all -- once he would have been willing to throw over his inheritance to live on love with her, a mere ladies maid. But now that he is a man, he knows it to be a fool's paradise, that the woman who even now looks at him from over her shoulder, lashes fluttering against her dusky cheek, could never be satisfied with living on love alone.

Briar picks up a necklace from the vanity, it is a cheap bauble he got her long ago, in Italy, a paste jewel shaped like a rose, strung on a red ribbon. She holds it around her neck to be clasped, and he knows what she is asking.

"Briar," Marlcaster whispers, and swears she can hear it in his voice with the fury she rounds upon him in.

"Don't you dare, Eddie! Don't you bloody say it!" Briar hisses, stabbing him in the chest with her finger. "She don't know you like I do!" For a moment, the mask slips, and her dark eyes are calculating and cold, but the moment passes so quickly he is sure he has imagined it, and her hand is grasping his cock, hair falling in her face as she strokes him.

If he closes his eyes... he can almost pretend... Against his better judgement, he can feel himself rise, and he bends her over the table, the action feeling forced, mechanical, like nothing more than a transaction with a Miss upon the Strand, But instead of costing a shilling, she has cost me so much more.

Briar moans wantonly as he thrusts into her, and he feels himself go soft again. He pulls away from her, panting, and she looks over her shoulder at him in annoyance. "Go on! Take me! In't you a man?"

"Get out." When she doesn't move, he pulls his nightshift back down, over his naked limbs, and grabs his crutch. Ignoring Briar's squawks, Marlcaster tears himself from her grip.

"Mr Marlcaster, sir!" Briar squawks, appalled. "Where are you going at this hour of the night?!"

If he leaves now, he can make it there in by next sunset.

Edgewater...

•••

"The post is here, madame," Violette smiled slyly as she brought my chocolate to where I sat in the morning room. "And there is correspondence from London!" She opened the door and there he stood in the doorway, as though we had spoken but yesterday.

I did not know how a person could move so fast, but in an instant he had me in his arms, raining kisses down upon my cheek and neck, softly at first, and then more insistent. His mouth found mine, he tasted of cloves and sweet, green air, and he groaned my name. Perdita. I heard the pins from my hair clatter to the floor as his teeth tugged at my bottom lip.

"He told me to stay away from you, Perdita, but I cannot, I cannot," Sinclaire gasped into my mouth. "These past weeks have been hell, madam."

Hell... Well, I knew something of that, or so I thought, then. How foolish we were! All I thought, on that bright morning in the summer of 1820, was for my lover's arms about me, his hands pressed to my back, peppering my collarbone with hot kisses.

"Ernest," I gasped, breaking apart from him. "What do you mean, Ned told you to -- to stay away from me?"

Sinclaire did not answer, but cupped my face in his hands, claiming my lips in a searing kiss that made all thoughts of my husband fly from my head. His fingers deftly pulled down the lace edging of my décolletage, and I let out a low cry as his thumb and forefinger found my nipples, brushing them over and over with his thumbs as they stiffened into hard peaks. "Ernest." I gasped into his mouth, arching into him, and he pulled my skirts up to my hips, fumbling with his breeches in his eagerness.

We tumbled onto the chaise, and he tugged my shift over my head, his mouth hot against my skin. His hands cupped my breasts, teasing my erect nipples with his thumbs, but his touch left me feeling strangely cold, as though we but went through the motions. "Perdita!" he gasped, biting my breasts with ardor, moaning as I unbuttoned his breeches. He was stiff as a poker in my hand, his length straining against my flesh as he thrust into me, all the way to the hilt. When he began to move we both gasped, he caught my bottom lip between his teeth and tugged at it gently. I moaned, grasping at his shoulders, and with a guttural cry, he released himself upon the chaise cushions, his cock going flaccid between my thighs.

"God, Perdita," Sinclaire panted, looking ashamed as he stuffed himself back into his breeches. "You were just so tight. I am dreadfully sorry. You..." he ran a hand over his face, chuckling softly. "Of course you did, madam. You always do." Sinclaire brushed sweaty lock of hair from my eyes, and I remembered our first time, lying in the grass beside the lake at Edgewater, where any fool might have chanced upon us. "I did not mean... it is just, it has been so long."

You do not slake your lust upon your wife? But I did not say it aloud, for I did not want to hear. This game has gone on for far too long, Ned's voice echoed in my head, and I am damnably sick of it.

•••

Once he has gone, Briar flings a wrapper around herself and goes down to the kitchen to warm herself some milk.

Briar Daly often shifts for herself. The largesse of her master runs to dresses and pin money, and she has a maid-of-all-work, Nan, but the girl is lazy, and more often than not she has returned Briar's dresses reeking of gin and a dark yeasty smell: Briar suspects the girl wears her dresses to walk the Strand from dusk til dawn, but as long as Nan does not make eyes at Edmund, Briar does not care.

I am too old to look for another protector, she thinks, moving softly through the townhouse. She returns to the bedroom and stops at the door, turning her face from the tangled bedsheets; the room still smells of him, and she presses a fist to her chest, willing back the angry tears that threaten to spill from her eyes. She has given up everything for him: everything she is, everything she has ever done, it has all been for him. Marlcaster.

With an angry cry, she sweeps her jewelry box from the vanity, the paste rose falling just out of her hands as she scrambles to capture it, unable to stop it from shattering upon impact. She falls to her knees, trying in vain to press the pieces back together, but it is of no use, they crumble in her hands.

Briar's eyes are dry as she composes herself, ringing the bell for Nan. "Bring out my best watered silk dress and then tell John Coachman to bring a carriage around. I am paying a call upon Dowager Henrietta."

•••

We sat together cuddled upon the chaise, blood still pumping hot and fresh, the echo of what we'd done a hot scent in the room, my lover's cheeks ablaze.

"You know I cannot see you again." Now he took my hand, bringing my knuckles to his lips. He did not look at me, but his eyes were wet with emotion. When I touched his jaw, he turned his face and pressed a kiss to my palm. Then he was to his feet, smoothing down his rumpled breeches. "I made a promise to your husband, Countess."

Countess -- ah. This was how it was to become between us, I saw. "So I am nothing to you now, and you shall go back to your wife, and put a son inside of her as you think of me?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Countess -- Perdita -- damnation."

I lifted my skirts and spread my legs wide. My thighs glistened wetly, and I saw his pupils go dark with lust. "Will you not have one last taste before we are quit of one another?"

But with his head between my legs, and my fingers twined in his hair, all I could think of was my husband.

[bisexualbuck]

buck comes out as bi in the dumbest way you can think of (humor and no angst please please) it doesnt have to be buddie

under read more for slightly ns/fw text (also this is probably way dumber than what you expected)

“My gag reflex is almost nonexistent,” Buck is saying as Bobby approaches, and suddenly Bobby wants nothing more but to turn around and pretends like he has never heard any of this.

He doesn’t though. The look on Eddie’s face keeps him in place.

“How would you even know that?” Chimney asks, laughing.

“Oh, you know, here and there,” Buck replies, straight-faced, “sucking dick.”

Chimney is hit by a sudden coughing fit. Hen only groans, shaking her head. Eddie on the other hand – Eddie seems like he has ceased to function entirely.

Bobby allows himself an amused smile. He is almost tempted to snap a quick picture of Eddie’s wide eyes.

“Is this really how you’ve decided to come out to us?” Hen asks, dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” Buck says and he laughs. “The look on your faces. I’m glad I didn’t tell you all that I was bi before. Damn.”

He looks very proud of himself.

“You’re really bi?” Chim asks when he’s composed again.

“Yeah,” Buck is still smiling but one would have to be blind to mistake the sudden tightness of his shoulders. “Got a problem with it?”

“No,” Chim replies, almost fond. “I don’t have a problem with you being bi. I have a problem with how you decided to come out, dumbass.”

“Are we really surprised he did it like this?” Hen asks, and she winks at Buck. “This is Buckaroo we’re talking about.”

Whatever Buck is about to say is cut by his phone’s ringing.

“It’s Maddie,” he says, getting up. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he is out of sight, three pairs of eyes fall on Eddie. He still hasn’t not moved an inch, his gaze, unseeing, is still fixed on the seat Buck has vacated.

“Everything okay, my dearest Eddie?” Hen asks with false innocence.

“You’ve got something on your mind?” Chim continues, not hiding his glee.

“I’m fine,” Eddie answers through his teeth.

Bobby can’t help the snort that escapes him. Eddie is red in the face and he looks like he is about to combust any second.

They all watch with open amusement as Eddie suddenly erupts into movement, standing up so fast he needs to catch himself to the table so he doesn’t fall over.

“I – there’s something I need to do,” he says and he tries really hard to keep a dignified expression.

“More like someone to do,” Chim jokes.

Eddie opens his mouth to protest but no sound comes out. Hen, who has until then managed to keep a straight face, bursts out laughing, loud and joyous.

He sends them a indignant look and then he’s leaving – going, of course, in the direction Buck went towards.

“Nothing inappropriate at work,” Bobby calls after him.

Hen’s laughter only double, joined now by Chimney.

And when Buckand Eddie come back afterwards, blushing and holding hands, they bear their friends’ teasing with big happy smiles.

[thesportssoundoff]

“Is this really the kind of card you bring to Norfolk, Virginia all due respect to the fine folks who live there?!” UFC Fight Night Poirier vs Pettis preview

Joey

November 6th

We just passed the UFC's biggest weekend of 2017 and normally after a big weekend, a not so good card follows. This time though after a big card, we've got a really good free TV card to follow it up. Live from Norfolk, Virginia, the UFC rolls into town with a pretty damn solid card that has just a little bit of something for everybody. Like really compelling on paper fights? We gotcha! Like WMMA? Gotcha! Like old veterans with something to prove? Gotcha! Like bantamweights? Word! Heavyweights? I mean we got those too! Ya like Sage Northcutt? WHO DOESN'T?! This UFC card is an Oddlot and I can approve of that, topped by a fantastic main event pitting Dustin Poirier vs Anthony Pettis.

Fights: 13

Debuts: 1 (Karl Roberson)

Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: 1 (Antonio Rogerio Nogueira vs Jared Cannonier)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 11 (Anthony Pettis, Dustin Poirier, Matt Brown, Diego Sanchez, Andrei Arlovski, Nate Marquardt, Raphael Assuncao, Joe Lauzon, Clay Guida, Jon Dodson, Sage Northcutt)

Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC:  3 (Andrei Arlovski, Matt Brown, Nate Marquardt)

Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC:  2 (Matthew Lopez and Raphael Assuncao)

Stat Monitor for 2017:

Debuting Fighters (Current number: 33-29)- Karl Roberson

Short Notice Fighters (Current number: 20-31-1)- 0

Second Fight (Current number: 23-33)- Michel Quiñones, Tatiana Suarez and Junior Albini

Cage Corrosion (17-11-1)- Tatiana Suarez

Twelve Precarious Ponderings

1- Is it FINALLY going to be time for Dustin Poirier to get that big career defining win? Poirier has been fantastic at 155 lbs, an action fight fan's dream fighter, a finisher and everything else you can put on a guy. He is must see TV and it's no surprise that since dropping to 155 lbs, he has three bonuses (and was likely robbed of two other ones since the Alvarez fight didn't get 50K and his KO of Bobby Green happened on a card where dudes were getting flattened left and right). Lost in the love for the 28 year old Louisiana native is the fact that he hasn't had that ONE signature win. He's beaten a lot of guys who in theory live in that 15 to 10 range of the LW division but the big win has eluded him. At FW, entertaining losses to guys like the Korean Zombie and Cub Swanson plus a KO to Conor McGregor are probably his trademarkk performances. At 155 lbs, he looked on his way to putting himself in the conversation among the likes of RDA, Pettis, Alvarez, Ferguson and the crew before Michael Johnson removed him from the conversation in a stunning upset. He looked on his way to getting that win vs Alvarez before he got hurt and eventually kneed illegally.

The entire career of Poirier feels like a collection of moments where he's good enough TO win but not great enough to rise above. In main events, Poirier is 0-2. In co-main events, he's 0-1. If we judge fighters by their ability to rise up, so to speak, then Poirier's record is not giving you a ringing endorsement for confidence. Even saying that, we're discussing a 28 year old who is ultra skilled in every capacity. Maybe he's a step slower than the heaviest hitters in the division (he looked to be moving at Tivo slow mo speed vs Michael Johnson) and maybe you have questions about his ability to deal with pressure. Maybe you worry about his composure which could explain his so-so record in big fights. Whatever the case, even at 28 years old, we're reaching the "He is what he is" portion of Poirier's career. A fantastic action fighter who SHOULD be among the elites at 155 lbs. This is a big fight for him.

2- Similarly, Anthony Pettis. Lost in the record is the how and why we got here. Pettis simply got out dogged by an injured RDA in a fight where both guys were impaired. After that? I mean I thought he beat Eddie Alvarez pretty clearly. Edson Barboza is a better version of Anthony Pettis which was just all kinds of wrong for him. Ignore everything at 145 lbs because that was a bad idea. The point I'm trying to illustrate here is that Pettis is far better than he's shown since 2015 or so. We're talking about a fantastic athlete still entering his prime who is still capable of big fight magic. His resume is littered with well known names and those aren't fluke wins. Even if I believe that Pettis has become a big stagnant in recent years, on his good night he's probably better than your favorite lightweight. Poirier is going to be a pretty valuable test for him and what remains of Pettis as a top 155er.

3- I know Matt Brown is retiring but I really hope win or lose Diego Sanchez follows him into whatever MMA Valhalla is.

4- Andrei Arlovski vs Junior Albini is so much of what MMA is and so little of what we wish it to be. Arlovski is 0-4 and while he didn't get sparked in his last fight, he showed so little against Marcin Tybura that I don't even really see the point of this fight other than trying to launch Albini's career. That's great and all but Albiini is ONE fight into his UFC career and we have no idea what he's really all about. The only way we learn anything about him is if he loses and that'd speak volumes in the negatives. This is a very odd peculiar fight.

5- Joe Lauzon vs Clay Guida has one of two ways of ending. The first is Lauzon dropping Guida early and snatching his neck or the other is a hot start for Lauzon followed by two rounds of Clay Guida just smacking him around on the ground if Lauzon doesn’t get an early sub. It’s so weird this fight hasn’t happened earlier than this point but even so, I’m pretty geeked about it.

6- Jon Dodson vs Marlon Moraes is one of those fights with no middle ground. It's either all action or it's the world's smallest fastest staring contest.

7- While I don't like the fight, Tatiana Suarez vs Vivianne Pereira seems like a really great fight between two solid strawweight prospects. Pereira is a little undersized but she's hyperactive and looked worlds better vs Jamie Moyle. Tati Suarez has title contender talent and a fantastic base for the division but she's been out for a good long minute. Excited for this one even if I dislike the fact a prospect's gonna get knocked off.

8- Really excited to see Matthew Lopez get his crack at figuring out Raphael Assuncao. If you beat Assuncao, you should be like champion emeritus at 135 lbs. Lopez had a way too tough debut vs Rani Yahya and even in that fight he was more than competitive in scrambles and on the feet. Since then Lopez has picked up two wins over competent 135ers like Johnny Eduardo and Mitch Gagnon. That said, Assuncao is forever at a level above most of these dudes in the weight class.

9- We're starting to get to that point where the DWTCS signees are getting opportunities to have fights. Boston Salmon lost his chance but Karl Roberson gets a shot now. Dropping from 205 to 185 lbs, Roberson draws Darren Stewart who was really impressive in Cage Warriors prior to getting his UFC call up. He got hit with the Francimar Barroso train after a no contest and now he'll also make the drop to MW. Excited about these two guys.

10- Of the twelve fighters currently posted up on this main card, it almost seems reasonable to half of them could be retired or out of the UFC by next year. You have Arlovski, Diego Sanchez, Joe Lauzon, Clay Guida and Nate Marquardt who could all be on their last legs or considering retirement not including Matt Brown who is genuinely retiring.

11- Everybody's favorite human Ken Doll is back in business, baby! Sage Northcutt has returned!

12- It has the potential to be a bit of a dud but Court McGee vs Sean Strickland could be a fantastic little fight on the prelims. Strickland's kind of lost his way from his more exciting pre-UFC days but I Think he's still got high upside and McGee always shows up to fight.

Must Wins

1- Anthony Pettis

Anthony Pettis looked back vs Jim Miller---but that's really not enough of an indictment on what remains. Miller's a good test for if you still have enough to be considered elite but he's not quite the measuring stick for whether you ARE elite. Pettis has a lot of questions that still need answering even if vs Miller he looked aggressive while being composed, tremendous with his kicking game and more in check with each passing second of the fight. Dustin Poirier has power, variety in his hands and I can't imagine Pettis is going to outwrestle him if it comes to that. The fact that this is five rounds and Pettis has looked AWFUL in his last two fights meant for that distance is worrisome.

2- Dustin Poirier

Dustin Poirier's career will be one of two things; a long career as a best action fighters of his time but never challenged for anything major OR a career where The Diamond is able to get over the hump and contend for titles and more main events.

3- Marlon Moraes

There were a lot of subtle flaws hidden by Moraes when he was competing at the WSOF.  It's not to suggest he's not really talented (he is) but when he would take his foot off of the gas, he wasn't challenged much by inferior competition. Against Raphael Assuncao, I thought he showed some of those flaws and it ultimately cost him in a close fight. Dodson is similar in Assuncao in the sense that a boring fight is a fine fight for him. If he can't blitz you and overwhelm you with his speed, he's fine with just giving you enough offense to take a decision. Moraes going down 0-2 as the 135 lb class is loading up again would be a dire circumstance so he needs this one in the worst way.

Five Fights Not To Miss:

1- Dustin Poirier vs Anthony Pettis

2- Super Sage vs El Chapo in a battle of amazing nicknames

3- Tatiana Suarez vs Vivianne Pereira

4- Joe Lauzon vs Clay Guida

5- Matt Brown vs Diego Sanchez

[roguish-gallery]

Can you do a headcannon for the rouges on halloween?

Saved this one for the right time! Also!!! TW for some NS/FW mentions!

Rogues + Halloween HCs!!

Bane:

He might hop around from party to party, just for kicks! He doesn’t stick around any of them for too long, though.

You know those unsourced facebook articles that your aunt and your mom share each year about the guy who apparently lives in every neighborhood in the country who sticks razor blades into the chocolate bars he hands out to kids? That’s Bane, but he doesn’t even give out any candy. Just knives. He tells every child that knocks on his door how they can properly defend themselves should they ever get imprisoned for crimes they didn’t commit, or how to properly gut that one bitch who keeps hogging the good kickball at recess.

He dresses up like a Roman gladiator! It’s cool and gritty, and he doesn’t have to worry about finding a shirt that fits his body. Plus, he looks really good in gladiator sandals.

Catwoman:

She’s either attending some boring Halloween party with socialites she’s planning to rob, or watching some shitty scary movie with the rest of the sirens.

That being said, she makes sure that every child that knocks on her door gets the full-sized candy bars. 

She dresses up like a witch! Classy and simple, but lots of opportunities to add her own creative touches!

Harley Quinn:

She’s out there living her best life, being a grown-ass woman... and still trying to Trick-or-Treat. Anyone who gives her a toothbrush or a bag of pretzels is gonna get a brick thrown through their windows later that night.

She managed to convince Basil to lend her some of the horror films in his collection, and despite the fact that none of this shit is scary, she loses her goddamn mind during every mildly frightening scene.

She’s wearing one of that inflatable T-Rex costumes!!! Mostly because they’re really funny and because she KNOWS that people are expecting her to dress up as something “sexy” and this is her way of giving them a middle finger. (also if she’s in a big t-rex costume then it’s harder for the people handing out candy to realize that she’s a grown-ass woman).

Joker:

He’s the annoying bitch in the morph suit that shows up to every party. He thinks that people won’t be able to recognize him but. Everyone knows it’s him.

Killer Croc:

He has a genuine love for Halloween because it’s one of the few times of the year where he can walk around in public without anyone freaking out.

Fdskjfhskdj he shows up to costume contests and tells judges that he’s “Godzilla” and he leaves with some cool ribbons and a nice chunk of prize money for his “life-like costume”

Like I said, he’s either Godzilla or Kaiman from Dorohedoro. Whatever sounds more fun at the time!

Mad Hatter:

The only person here who made their costume entirely from scratch. It will be a cold day in hell when he gives a cent of his hard-earned money to a Spirit Halloween.

Surprisingly enough, he does not dress as an Alice character (he already does that every other day, and it wouldn’t be fun to do it for Halloween too). Now he’s dressed like a Victorian-style ghost!!

“Boo!! Give me your candy, and complement how dashing, smart, and spooky I am, or I’ll... uh- I’ll haunt you!! Boo!!!”

Penguin:

Surprising no one, he throws an excellent Halloween party at the Iceberg Lounge and he somehow prevents any of the other Rogues from setting any fires. A successful night!

He’s honestly not super festive when it comes to Halloween? At least in comparison to the other Rogues. He decorates the Iceberg accordingly for the party, but it’s more for the sake of entertaining his guests.

Tbh, he’ll just wear one of his regular suits, apply extra eyeliner, and slap on some fangs and tell everyone he’s a vampire. He’s glad that he finally has an excuse to wear one of his capes in public. Might fuck around and go as the Phatom of the Opera or some shit.

Poison Ivy:

Spends the entire month fuckin around with the pumpkins, as one with plant powers is ought to do. If the pumpkin you’re trying to carve into a jack o’ lantern suddenly grows arms and stabs you back with your knife, Pamela probably had something to do with it.

Harley ate all of the candy she bought a week ago, and she forgot to grab more so Pam awkwardly hands out leftover food from her fridge to any trick-or-treaters who come over. Pam hopes that the toddler in the Paw Patrol costume enjoys the hummus he got because Pam was really looking forward to eating it.

She dresses as Demeter! I love Pammy so much and I’m sorry to say this but she is 100% the type of person who gets huffy whenever people (or children) don’t immediately recognize who she’s dressed as.

Riddler:

Jon rents all of the Exorcist films and bets Eddie 100 dollars that he wouldn’t be able to watch through the entire series. Ed promptly accepts that bet… and quits 30 minutes into the first movie.

… He’s dresses as Captain Kirk for Halloween. Ed is a shameless Trekkie and I will die on this hill.

He individually texts every Rogue and officer of the GCPD this exact copypasta, and then he… turns his phone off for the rest of the week and refuses to respond to any calls :) or death threats :) or warrants for his arrest :)

Scarecrow:

Ahhhh…. Do you hear that? The shrieks of terror?  That crisp autumn air? Those Pillsbury sugar cookies with the pumpkins on them? Yes, Jonathan Crane is in his natural element.

Sdasdfsdfkj He sneaks into the local haunted house and corn maze attractions so he can upstage the actual scare actors.

He just wears his scarecrow outfit; if it’s not broken, don’t fix it. (that, and Jervis made him swear to not buy a cheap costume at Spirit Halloween.)

Two-Face:

He’s just chillin!! Having a fun spooky time!! He can buy apple cider back at the store again, and life is good!

Harv will make trick-or-treaters flip a coin, and based on what it lands on they either get a full chocolate bar, or a box of raisins and a toothbrush.

He’s dressed up like a biker! Leather jacket, cool shades, and tight jeans- he and Bruce used to dress up like bikers for past Halloweens!

[boneandfur]

Restless Farewell [N*FW][1/3]

Summary: Veronique goes to The City That Never Sleeps to recruit a thief, instead she meets a man with whom she can be ordinary with for just one night. But is he really who he seems? // Pairing: Niles Edison (Thief) x THM F!MC // Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ LEMON. By clicking on "read more", you are verifying that you are old enough to be reading this fic. // Words: 2935 // Notes: this is the precursor to the sneak peek I posted. It is canon-divergent in some places, although it sticks to the canon story-line as much as possible The first fic in this series takes place in NYC, the night before MC and Rye meet with Niles Edison aka Eddie Quick in Washington Square Park. I HC the MC to be in their 30s and Edison to be late 40s. It’s full of angst and smut. If you like those two things, proceed! Lyrics are from the song Restless Farewell by Bob Dylan.

Chapter One

New York City is full of ghosts. 

The first time Veronique, once known as Alaïs Dègas Lionheart, came to the City That Never Sleeps, she was just five years old. She dreams of it, sometimes: Times Square in winter, ice skates and hot chocolate, her mother dripping with rubies and diamonds, a sheik's ransom. The Nutcracker Ballet, sugar plums and chocolate mice, her father carrying her on his shoulders to the castle in Central Park, a fairy tale of turrets and stained glass windows.  

And there are other memories too, darker ones, the kind a child doesn't understand, the kind an adult pushes away. Suitcases of gold bouillon, walking in on her father throwing handfuls of cash in the air as her mother lies on the bed, her mother's bruised eyes and bloody mouth. I walked into a door, ma petit. It was very silly of me. 

Yes, the city is full of ghosts tonight. 

Veronique walks down the city streets without really looking around, yet somehow her feet seem to know where they are going. She passes Times Square in a blur of color and light, Chinatown, with joss paper in the shop windows, botanicas in the Bronx full of colored saint's candles and Santa Muerte, until she is somewhere near Central Park, standing on the path to the castle.

The leaves whisper in the night, their music borne by the wind. Shhh, shhh. She can hear the song in her head that her father used to whistle as he counted stacks of cash, his blazing head bent in concentration. 

"Oh, all the money that in my whole life I did spend / Be it mine right or wrongfully / I let it slip gladly to friends / To tie up the time most forcefully..." 

"Daddy?" Veronique whispers, and only the leaves whisper back. Shhh, shhhh. 

She forgets she is a criminal mastermind, she forgets she is a thief. She forgets about heists in Monaco, and men with cold, flat eyes who stare at you as they kiss the mouths of their guns. She forgets about Rye, the man she loves like a brother, sleeping like a blameless man back at the hotel before their flight in the morning. There is only Alaïs, the Little Robber Princess, and a man's scratchy voice, singing a poet's song. 

"But the bottles are done / We've killed each one / And the table's full and overflowed / And the corner sign / Says it's closing time / So I'll bid farewell and be down the road... "

In the lamplight, the hair is fox-red, and Veronique runs. The man continues down the path, still singing softly. Her hand skims his shoulder, and he turns around. "Daddy?" But it is a stranger's face, craggy and rough and wrong, one eye sewn shut, the other blue as river glass. There is something cunning and strangely hungry in the man's eyes, under the lamplight they flicker for a moment, and Veronique realizes how far she is from the crowds, unable to disappear in plain sight. 

Veronique spins on her heel, and runs. Down the path, into the dark forest ramble, branches scraping her arms. She comes out on a well-lit path of cobblestones, with no sign of the man behind her. Despite her sigh of relief, she stills. She can feel someone, watching her from the dark. Waiting. A beat, and Veronique spins around, whipping her fists up, but the inky shadows remain still, seething with the secrets of the night. 

•••

Three city blocks later, she hasn't lost her tail. She wonders, for a moment, if it's one of the Rooks following her, but brushes the thought away almost as instantly as it comes. They wouldn't be so amateur. 

"Lionheart." That name, the name no one living should know. 

Veronique bolts down the nearest alleyway, and bursts out the other side, her lungs burning, just in time to see a black Lincoln with its lights turned off pull up to the curb. The window rolls down, and the long muzzle of a Berretta points straight at her. 

Time stills, and her mind goes blank. Lionheart. The last time she saw the two of them, it was snowing in the mountains, the sky a dusky purple from the ambient glow of the city. Her father had promised her a golden nightingale that would sing down the moon, and when her mother's lips brushed across her forehead, the little robber princess pretended to be fast asleep. 

"Get back!" Someone yanks Veronique by the wrist right back into the alleyway, hands braced on the brick wall over her head, body pressed up against hers, shielding her from harm. She is afraid to breathe, and all she can feel is his heart thundering against hers, under the cover of darkness. The Barretta aims, and fires, and Veronique bites back a scream as the bullet's impact rains down red brick dust on the pair of them. He grabs her hand, and whispers hoarsely, "Now!" 

Veronique doesn't look back, or up at the man pulling her through the shadows, until they are back in the well-lit streets of Times Square. She is shivering, she cannot seem to stop. Lionheart. That name. How could someone know it, after all these long lonely years? 

"Alright, luv?" The man turns around, looking down at her, and drops her hand in surprise. "Bloody hell, you're not who -- " he corrects himself "-- you're not what I was expecting." 

But who did you expect? Veronique finds herself staring up into the face of a handsome, distinguished older man with dark brown hair gone nearly gray and a trim beard, wearing a brown trench coat and a long dark red scarf. He whips off his glasses, rubbing them with his sleeve, and shoots her a charming smile. His eyes are malachite green behind his glasses, like the pendant she wears around her neck. 

There is something dangerous about this man, she thinks -- Something that could make or break an ordinary woman. He holds out his hand to shake. 

"The name's Eddie." 

She pushes a swath of golden hair behind one ear, and smiles. "Hey." 

•••

"You look as though you could use a proper drink. I know I could." Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. "You almost gave me a heart attack back there. Christ! I thought --" but he bites back whatever it is he was about to say. 

She's still shaking from adrenaline, her skin buzzing, and she realizes they are so close that they could touch, if they wanted. She wants him to touch her, she realizes. To just feel like an ordinary woman for one night, instead of one who can make or break a man. But she doesn't move away. "A drink sounds fantastic. I'm --" Alaïs. It's on the tip of her tongue, and she wonders, for a brief, unguarded moment, what it would be like to be herself with a stranger, just for one night. "Alaïs." 

He raises his brows, giving her an obvious once-over, eyes lingering in appreciation on her legs and breasts. "That's a lovely name -- Alaïs. She was the mistress of Henry the Second." He clears his throat, the distance between them fixed, neither making any move to go off and search for the promised drinks. And then his lips are on hers, the sound of the city falling away in his searing kiss. Her heart rate speeds up, adrenaline pumping through her veins as the kiss deepens, his tongue hot in her mouth as his hands encircle her hips, pulling her flush up against his broad chest. 

When they pull apart, Eddie smiles down at her, so softly that Veronique feels her insides fall apart. "How about that drink, then? I know a place..." 

•••

The hotel bar is well-appointed, with dark, heavy pre-war furnishings, a relic of a time gone by. They sit at the bar, their knees not quite touching, the air between them heady, thick with desire. Eddie levels a wink at her, and catches the eye of the bartender. 

"What'll you have?" Carter, his name tag reads, gold leaf on black plastic. He's blonde, good looking in that slick, clean cut way, and his smile is practiced, white and fake. 

"I'll take an Old Fashioned. And for the lady, a gin and tonic, I think. Make sure it's top shelf, proper gin, none of that shoddy Bombay." Eddie pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, dark green gaze locked on hers for a moment. "Did I get it right, then?" 

Veronique drops her eyes, then looks up at him from under her lashes. "Make it a gin fizzy." 

Eddie hums in approval. "A bird of refined tastes, you are." 

"Citrus Pay, sir, if you'd like to open a tab?" Carter returns with the drinks, bringing out a tablet, and Eddie recoils, a look of disgust crossing his features. 

"I don't go in for none of that bloody newfangled garbage. Cold hard cash, that's what we paid with back in my --" 

Carter rolls his eyes. "Very well, sir. Some of our older guests prefer to pay the old fashioned way, if that's what you prefer." He slides the Old Fashioned towards Eddie, mouth trembling as he tries to hide his amusement. "And for the lady, a Tanqueray gin fizzy, garnished with a fair-trade organic lime wedge, raw unrefined pink turbindo sugar on the rim, hand ground and imported from --" 

Eddie rolls his eyes. "You're not on the pull, mate, you're just serving the lady a drink. No need to slather it on." 

Carter rolls his eyes. "Very well, sir. Signal me if you need another, Old Fashioned." 

Veronique plucks at Eddie's sleeve before he can give the bartender a piece of his mind. She nods to a low-lit booth with a chessboard. "Care to place a wager?" 

Eddie's eyes light up in appreciation at the swing in her hips as she brushes past him, his eyes raking her up and down. "As long as it doesn't involve any of that bloody modern claptrap, I'm all in, luv." 

•••

"Lady's choice." Eddie sets up the board so fast that her head spins. His knees brush hers under the table, and her pulse speeds up erratically, craving each seemingly innocuous touch. "Black or white?" 

His hand lifts the hem of her skirt, caressing her just above the knee. Not so innocent after all. "Black." 

He raises a brow, sipping his drink thoughtfully. "A lady who likes to live dangerously, I see." Surveying the chess board, he moves a white pawn two spaces. "And I suppose this wager of yours is dangerous too?" 

Veronique takes a slow sip of her gin fizzy, seductively licking the foam off her lips, and watches as his pupils enlarge. "You'll have to play the game to find out." 

Eddie inhales sharply as she scoots to the very edge of the seat, parting her legs and moving his hand further up her thigh. "Oh, I intend to." His eyes are locked on hers as she mirrors his move, pawn before the king going two spaces forward. He moves another pawn two spaces forward. "So what brings you to New York, Alaïs -- business or pleasure?" His hand slides up her thigh. 

Alaïs. The name gives her heart a funny little twist, and she realizes she hasn't heard it spoken aloud by another person for almost thirty years. "I could ask you the same thing." Veronique plays with the malachite pendant around her neck, drawing his eyes to her cleavage. "But tonight... It's pleasure." 

Eddie is fighting back a smile. "Are all American birds these days as cheeky as you?" 

Veronique leans forward, long blonde hair brushing the chessboard, and asks in a husky whisper, "And just how long has it been since you've been in New York City?" 

He leans forward, their faces mere inches apart, his lips brushing against her ear, the sound of his English accent making her throb between the legs, like the beat of her heart, aching, wanting. "Too goddamned long enough." 

She turns her cheek, and his lips ghost across hers, the sensation of his stubble on her flesh causing her to inhale sharply, a tiny, yearning moan escaping her. "Eddie." 

He leans back, but his gaze never leaves hers. "You're not bloody cheeky, luv, you're downright dangerous." 

That I am. She thinks of the malachite pendant around her neck, sharpened to a point. 

All thieves live by a code of honor, my little robber princess, her father's voice whispers down the years. Never kill a man just to kill him, for it will always come back to haunt you. But if you need a friend, this stone is your best bet. Lick it and stick it, it'll work like a charm. Keep it close, and it may save your life. But I hope to hell that day never comes. 

Instead of answering, Veronique pulls Eddie's hand right to the apex of her thighs, hot and slick, craving his touch; and with her other hand, makes a move on the board, leaving her queen open. 

His fingers brush the thin strip of fabric, feeling how wet she is. He growls, his voice dark and rough. "What's the wager? We never said."

"That we both win tonight." She slides backwards in the booth, away from his hand, her heart hammering like mad. She must be crazy, she must be foolish, but she doesn't care, she wants -- "Eddie." 

"Right, then." He drains his drink and then throws some cash on the table, holding out a hand. "Shall we?" 

•••

They've barely stepped into the elevator when Eddie spins her around, pressing her up against the wall in a hard kiss. His hands glide up her thighs, cupping her ass, and she rocks against him, moaning as his fingers skim over the damp fabric of her underwear with the lightest pressure, teasing her clit. 

Eddie grunts as Veronique bites his shoulder, and all of a sudden the elevator dings. They break apart, disheveled and erect in all the wrong places. Eddie adjusts his trousers as a dark-haired man with an arrogant look steps into the elevator, followed by a pixie-haired blonde girl who looks as though she's smelled something bad. 

"The ground floor, bellhop," the dark haired man says to Eddie with a peevish air, and turns to the girl. "I didn't know the Waldorf-Astoria was hiring riff-raff these days. I'll have to have a talk with the owner." 

"Oh, Uncle Antoine, don't be such a snob," the girl says. "Like... Oh. Em. Gee!"

"This is your stop, mate," Eddie says with a grimace, slamming the emergency stop button. "'Fraid the elevator's closed for maintenance." He shoulder checks Antoine on his way out, and pushes him and his niece from the elevator into the hall, the pair of them spluttering with indignation. "Stairs are that way, guv." 

"I'm leaving a one star review on Yel--" Antoine is cut off as the elevator door slides shut, and Eddie turns back to Veronique, a smug grin on his face. "Now, where were we?" 

She can't be sure, but when she's sure, she's sure. Eddie has just picked both their pockets. A dangerous man, indeed. 

"Right... here." She tugs on his hand, and notices that there's a slight indent on one of his fingers, where a ring used to be. He can't be married, she frets in her head. But she can't be bothered to worry about it for long, because when Eddie kisses her, firmer than the first time, it feels more meaningful, more right. Like calls to like. It only makes sense that it would take a thief to make her come tonight. 

Eddie's mouth on hers is hot, her nipples are aching for his touch and as he begins rolling one nipple between his fingers, her brain short-circuits and goes blank. There is only this -- his slow, measured kiss, stretching out the pleasurable sensations happening elsewhere in her body. There's the way he tastes, like brandy and citron, and the sound of his deep growl as his hand slides between her legs again. 

It takes her nearly a full minute to realize she's no longer wearing underwear. He must have stolen them. A rush of heat throbs between her thighs, and the sound of his fingers slipping in and out of her slick, wet folds causes the coil of heat to tighten inside of her, harder and harder, biting her bottom lip as his mouth moves down her neck, sucking and nibbling a path to her nipples. The door starts to open, and Eddie slams on the floor button with his free hand. 

"I can't tell you how goddamned beautiful you are," he whispers into her ear. "Because words can't express it." 

Veronique is panting now, unable to catch her breath, and when he swirls his fingers rapidly over her clit, she comes hard and fierce, right then and there. 

"Eddie! Oh, fuck!" Veronique's hips buck uncontrollably, riding the intense wave of her orgasm. He sucks one nipple into his mouth and she screams his name, her legs nearly giving way as she collapses against him, his mouth claiming hers in a hard, possessive kiss. 

"Let's get you to bed, luv." Eddie strokes her cheek with the back of his hand. "Because I plan to shag you until you can't walk for a week." 

"Hurry," she moans.

She's never seen a man slam the elevator buttons so fast in her life. 

•••

Tag list will be in comments section since they seem to only work half the time.

[thesportssoundoff]

Dallas gets a PPV and it’s a great one: UFC 211 Preview

Joey

May 8th, 2017

The first half of 2017 has been all about ups and downs for the UFC. The free TV events have been for the most part acceptable even though they've lacked the sizzle to their events (as evidenced by not bad but not good ratings for most of their FS1 events and a few clunkers on FOX). On PPV, the story has been a lot tougher as bad cards lived up to bad billing, even if on paper I thought 208 had some fun aspects to it, and good cards either suffered injuries or were hampered by things out of the company's control. 209 was a great card that ended with an all time bad main event plus the loss of its co-main event while 210 had weird as hell fights, a perplexing main event, crazy judging and some even crazier refereeing. It's been a mess and as such, UFC 211 is being welcomed with open yet skeptical arms. This card actually reminds me a lot in some ways of UFC 146 from way back in the day. That year business was slow for the company and so they turned to an all heavyweight main card to inject some life into the UFC. It was a really great show and for a while, we could all forget about how utterly bumpy the road was and amuse ourselves in the rise of a new heavyweight phenom in Junior Dos Santos. Ironically enough, JDS rides into town during another bumpy as hell year to challenge for the title opposite Stipe Miocic. The main card for UFC 211 is arguably perfection from a matchmaking standpoing as all five fights are well matched fights pitting strength vs strength. All five fights could headline their own UFC event which is the sign of a great main card.  Prelims are more than adquate as well and in some cases VERY very good, namely in the prelim headliner.

Fights: 14

Debuts: 4 (Rashad Coulter, Jared Gordon, Michel Quinones and David Branch)

Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: 1 (Jarjhis Danho/Dimitro Poberezhets turned into Dimitri Pobereezhets/Chase Sherman turns into Chase Sherman/Rashad Coulter)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 10 (Joanna Champion, Stipe Miocic, Junior Dos Santos, Jorge Masvidal, Demian Maia, Frankie Edgar, Yair Rodriguez, Henry Cejudo, Eddie Alvarez and Dustin Poirier)

Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC: 2 (Chase Sherman, Henry Cejudo)

Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC: 11 (Stipe Miocic, Joanna Champion, Jessica Andrade, Demian Maia, Jorge Masvidal, Yair Rodriguez, Segio Pettis, Chas Skelly, Jason Knight, Kryzstof Jotko, Marco Polo Reyes)

Stat Monitor for 2017:

Debuting Fighters (Current number: 11-10)- Rashad Coulter, David Branch

Short Notice Fighters (Current number: 6-10)- Rashad Coulter

Second Fight (Current number: 11-14)- Gadzhimurad Antigulov, JessicaAguilar

Twelve Precarious Ponderings:

1- The first fight for JDS and Stipe Miocic is well and truly a classic worth going out of your way to see. The first four rounds were really great shit and the last round is sort of disappointing but both guys were absolutely gassed out so forgive them. Miocic's boxing was worlds better than JDS for the first two (and IMO three) rounds but then Miocic just absolutely gassed out and JDS was able to pour the pressure on and rely on his superior conditioning, heart and fight IQ to wear out Miocic. In rewatching the second fight though, I noticed a few things that paint perhaps a more compelling picture in the rematch. For starters, there's a sequence in the second round where JDS is able to find a combination which gets the respect of Miocic. From then on, JDS is able to pop the same combination over and over and Miocic starts trying to wrestle him. The more you wrestle JDS, the more tired you get unless you're Cain (and even Cain Velasquez was exhausted at the end of their third fight in the troilgy). JDS has insane balance for a big man and Miocic is sneaky deceptive----but it is worth pointing out that Moicic has not had a fight leave the first round since the Dos Santos fight. JDS went five rounds last April even if it was kind of sort of a sparring exhibition.

2- IF you're picking JDS in this fight, you're gambling on two things. 1) The fact that Miocic hasn't had five tough rounds and has shown vulnerability against big punchers who combo well and 2) the HOPE that Dos Santos vs Rothwell was not one of those "the candle burns brightest before it goes out" moments where a fading fighter finds himself for one last big hurrah before the cliff hits. Otherwise there's no reason why the less shop worn, more athletic, more versatile fighter (Miocic's wrestling still exists even if he doesn't use it for a single god damn thing) who hits just as hard and KO'd the dude who KO'd THIS dude should be the loser. The problem is that vs Rothwell, JDS was everything you'd wish for him to be and then some. He looked quick on his feet, versatile with his strikes, powerful with his jab and most of all he seemed to be pulling the trigger again.

3- Who is the #1 contender AFTER this? There's Overeem/Werdum and I'm not sure I'd go that route. After a series of fresh HW title fights (Werdum/Cain, Werdum/Miocic and Miocic/Overeem), going winner vs winner here inevitably sets up a rematch of some kind. Francis Ngannou is sitting out there amassing wins and looking awesome but any of those four guys represents a massive step up and the only one I'd comfortably say Ngannou would beat is Overeem due to the whole Overeem so-so chin and Ngannou being quite possibly the hardest hitting HW since Shane Carwin. Derrick Lewis would be fun as shit if he beat Mark Hunt but man, I do NOT want to see Lewis/Werdum or Lewis/Miocic where Derrick has to shuck off 40 takedowns. In a perfect world, Cormier vs JDS would be a lot of fun but I think Cormier would retire before he'd move back up to HW.

4- The co-main event feels like a fight where there's a realistic chance for an upset even if nobody wants to discuss it.  On paper this is a stylistic dream fight, two really tough really powerful women with differing styles (Joanna more of a symphony of violence, Jessica Andrade more like thrash metal) where if anyone is going to get to Joanna, it's the fighter who can pressure forward and put all kinds of smoke and team on her shots. I don't know if Jessica has one punch finishing power but I would argue she hits harder at 135 lbs and possesses the better submission game. The one thing I keep coming back to is Joanna's style and how over her last 3-4 fights, there's been some cracks showing. Against Valerie Letourneau, the few moments Val had came when she would pressure and blitz Joanna. She didn't win the fight but she had a few moments where you coulf see something could be done there. Vs Claudia Gadelha, Joanna had a REALLY tough time early dealing with the pressure AND power of Claudia. Gadelha put her down at one point (twice even if I remember correctly) and who knows where the fight goes if Claudia doesn't gas out going for takedowns. Against Karolina K, Joanna didn't seem as aggressive, didn't seem to press the issue with power shots as often and even was hurt REALLY badly by someone I would not consider to be a powerful striker. There's something going on here and Joanna's comments about maybe retiring and her long term health plus the scares she'd had in her past two fights paint a picture of something bigger. The rumors of her going to ATT and not being particularly well recieved raise a few concerns as well, I guess. I dunno there just seems to be a lot happening with Joanna that leaves room for doubt.

NOW is Jessica Andrade the fighter to beat her? I mean....it's hard to imagine someone who twice went life and death with Rocky Pennington winning the title from the most dominant female champion going currently. It's also hard to imagine this fight heading into the 4th or 5th rounds with Andrade not having a serious cardio disadvantage working against her. Also Joanna's kicks are the best Jessica has seen pretty much ever and so while I don't always go Joe Rogan on leg kicks, they're bound to have an advantage. I just think if anybody is going to beat Joanna Champion, this is the gal and this is the time for it. There's some smoke here.

5- If Yair Rodriguez KOs Frankie Edgar (or just beats him decisively), would that justifiably make Yair the #1 contender for the winner of Holloway-Aldo?  Even over Cub Swanson who has two wins in high profile fights and is on paper as popular as he's ever been?

6- Man imagine a Mexico even with Yair fighting for the FW title and Brandon Moreno challenging for the flyweight title. That'd be fuckin' cool.

7- I went back and briefly looked at Demian Maia's shortcomings/weaker performances at welterweight. The two consistent refrains is that Maia can be stalled out on the ground (or perhaps he stalls you out from attempting any offense and can just stay on top) and his cardio in some of those fights, specifically ones where early on he has to really fight for takedowns, can lead to openings. Matt Brown DID have Maia bothered in the second half of their fight before Maia just snatched his neck and put him to bed---but Maia did take some shots in the process. Masvidal is REALLY hard to take down and even tougher to keep down. On the other hand, Masvidal is not a guy well known for turning up the heat late. I know pace and tempo are like boilerplate MMA terms but Masvidal IS the perfect example of a guy who controls pacing, tempo and has superb timing. The third round if it gets that far is going to be very interesting.

8- Sergio Pettis beats Henry Cejudo (by whatever way you so desire), does Pettis get the "record" shot vs Mighty Mouse or is that still Ray Borg's gig?

9- On paper I'd argue that Cejudo/Pettis and Alvarez/Poirier should be switched but Eddie has been SO quiet since the McGregor thrashing that I wonder if there's maybe some concern about his focus. The prelim headliner is still a BIG spot but it's obviously a lot more low profile than PPV main card. Whatever the case may be, I bet that fight is going to be badass while it lasts. Also shout out to Dustin Poirier for fighting like three months ago on one leg then turning around and taking a MASSIVE step up.

10- The Fight Pass fight of all fights pits SportsSoundoff hero Gabriel "Moggly" Benitez vs TheAntiCool's BFF Enrique Barzola. Mexico vs Peru! Moggly Benitez was once thought of to be one of the better fighters off of TUF Latin America Season One and while he is still 2-1 despite running into the leg of Andre Fili (no shame in that), he's probably been a step behind the likes of Marlon "Chito" Vera, Yair Rodriguez and Teco Quinones. He's a good fighter who probably has some untapped potential the more he trains with the likes of AKA. On the other hand, Enrique Barzola is a REALLY good, really raw young fighter with unlimited athletic potential and a developing fight game. He should be undefeated in the UFC but que sera sera and all that good stuff. Barzola's wrestling is surprisingly good for a fighter discovered off of TUF LAM and his striking is unorthodox, really funky and seems to be improving each time out. Enrique Barzola should be the favorite but I refuse to believe that Moggly won't have a shot.

11- We all like to bitch and banter about the UFC's LHW division but this is yet another show in a string of them where they're trying to churn the bottom of the roster. Similarly the same could be said with a HW as well with a new HW in the mix. Injury replacement and all but still!

12- Gotta admit I totally forgot about Jessica Aguilar and how good she is.

Must Wins:

Junior Dos Santos

Of the two big names in the main event, I feel like JDS has the most to lose here with a loss. Let's not entirely mince some words here; this is almost a gift title shot. He's getting the shot because someone has to fight Miocic and Cain/Werdum are both in the UFC bad books for two vastly different reasons. Rothwell was a damn good win given the streak he was on and so it's not like JDS didn't earn some semblance of a title shot. Even that being the case, Dos Santos' last seven fights consist of wins over Frank Mir, Cain twice, Mark Hunt, Overeem, Miocic and Rothwell. He's 4-3 and he wasn't entirely competitive in those losses. That being said, he's got a chance here. Miocic is hittable, his moments of greatness oftentimes coming out of brief glimpses of frailty. In glimpses JDS has the ability to remind you of why once upon a time he was the no doubt about it best HW in the world. If he loses to Miocic, you'd essentially have to acknowledge that if he's a top 5 HW, 3 of his contemporaries in that mix have beaten him.

Frankie Edgar

At just 24 years old, the 145er and 155ers of the UFC will be dealing with Yair Rodriguez for a long time. He's going to challenge for plenty of belts and as his physical maturation combines with Greg Jackson in his ear, Yair Rodriguez will almost certainly be a face for the UFC. There's no pressure on Yair here. Frankie Edgar is one of those fighters stuck in no man's land. The scene at 155 lbs has grown to the point where Edgar's herky jerky quirky stylings and in and out movement can't carry him the way it used to. At the same time, he's had two swing and a misses at Jose Aldo and the last one wasn't quite as competitive as we all hoped it'd be. He's 35 years old, on the last fight of his deal and he's the kind of guy the UFC has been losing/letting go recently. The sort of guy who is a TV draw but not a PPV draw who has essentially maxed out his value. Edgar vs Yair is the battle of good young fighter who might be great against the great old fighter who might be slowly dropping towards good. Edgar is far and away the greatest wrestler Yair has ever faced and conversely, Yair Rodriguez is really the most dynamic athletic that Edgar has faced. No, I don't think he's as good as Aldo but Yair does so many other weird, wacky and wild things that he essentially combines the "I don't give a fuck" of Cub Swanson with the versatility of Aldo. Edgar wins this fight and he's got two wins in a row likely looking at a bigger payday and he PROBABLY sneaks his way back into talks as a name for 145 lbs again or even 135 lbs if he finally commits to that drop in weight. A loss and maybe the UFC views a 35 year old Frankie Edgar as a guy on the downslide who can no longer beat the elites, isn't going to fight for the title and may not be worth six figures for them anymore.

Demian Maia

There's a section of UFC fans who think Demian Maia is a draw and he's really not. His TV numbers aren't great, I don't think Maia is a guy who draws people to the venue and he exits to be what I believe most insiders would refer to as card dressing. Having said that, the 170 lb landscape is KIND OF in the midst of some upheaval and so if Maia's ever going to get that title shot, the opportunity has to be now. He's won what feels like 10 fights in a row and his wins are over the likes of Carlos Condit, Neil Magny, Gunnar Nelson and Ryan LaFlare. He gets a surprisingly difficult puzzle to figure out; a low output striker who rarely misses his shots, rarely gets taken down, might be impossible to submit and has found some power since he moved up to 170 lbs. It's a fight Maia should win that presents some stylistic challenges for an aging BJJ maestro with so so cardio but arguably the stickiest grappling in MMA. We recently saw a similar minded aging BJJ maestro struggle vs a a guy who presented stylistic challenges who rarely gets taken down and has found his power after moving up in weight. I don't know if the ending will be the same but there's no question that there are some similarities in these two movie scripts.

Five Underlying Themes

1- Will there be more consistency in the three person commentary booth or are we doomed to more at times awkward at times stilted bro convos between Rogan and DC?

2- This is the best card of the year but I'd almost argue UFC 208 had more buzz to it. Will this card pick up as we get closer and realize this fight is FINALLY happening?

3- Texas has a well earned rep for shitty judging, even worse reffing and just general commission wackiness. Are we in line for another night of madness?

4- How will the crowd respond to Yair Rodriguez, a budding star to be, in his biggest fight ever?

5- Will we get any UFC 213 or UFC 214 announcements?