#he loses his footing and gets caught off guard by the tigers

[wildsaltair]

husband? husband???

[pairofmelaninkweens]

Happy Birthday Tiger

By: @sweet-darling91

Characters: Yugi Itadori x Reader

Word Count: 2731

TW/Content warnings: None, Soft smut, vanilla sex, Yuji is aged up to 21 here.

After a long day with his friends and eccentric sensei, Gojo, Itadori was FINALLY free to spend the rest of his day doing what he really wanted to do. He was grateful for being surrounded by friends, classmates, and teachers that felt like family. He was just looking forward to being in your presence.

Walking out in the rain, he wields his open umbrella, shielding you from the sudden shower, while you alternate feeding him, and yourself scoops of the ice cream you swiped from the party earlier. When you shudder from the misty evening air, and the icy sensation of the frozen treat sliding down your throat, you feel Yujii’s arm pull you closer into him as he looks down at you. “Are you ok,” he asks, furrowing his brow while he searches your eyes for any sign of discomfort, “You’re trembling.” You fluster and fail to stop the stupid love-struck grin spreading across your face as you look up into his eyes. “Yeah, just a little chilly with the rain and the ice cream,” you answer and offer him another spoonful. He grabs the cup and finishes the rest of the ice cream with a flourish, shooting you a grin to mask his own blush. He’s failing miserably at trying to mask his excitement, making you snicker as you remember the words that always find a way to spill from his lips, “You are just the cutest thing, the most precious person I know.” You feel the warmth beginning to spread where his touch meets your skin as you relish in the comfort of his embrace before you hear his voice, “Let’s hurry up and get you out of the cold before you get a fever then!” He folds you into his arms and dashes the rest of the way home, making it to your apartment in record time. Typically, Itadori is used to you being docile during these hours, especially with the rainfall, but damn it, it is his birthday, and you have pent-up energy. The sugar rush from the ice cream fueled you as you bound over to your bedroom to grab your gear and floor mat. “Gear up birthday boy,” you say as you toss him his pads and gloves. “We’re gonna have our own sparring match,” you smirk, with a devilish glint in your eyes. “Try not to make me sweat too early, and you can see what I have on underneath...” you tease, making him blush. “I don’t want to…. hurt you-” you cut him off with a quick kiss and bound back to your original position, across from him on the mat in your living room. “I have every confidence that you won’t hurt me,” you say, your mischievous grin blooming across your face, “in ways that I won’t like.”

Once the pair of you have geared up, you implement your first strike. Sweeping your left foot across the floor to trip him over, which he swiftly jumps up to avoid, then comes crashing down on top of you. Being caged between his toned arms and feeling his body weight hover over your much smaller frame, accelerates your heart rate. He might have you pinned, but you’ve got a trick up your sleeve. You hoist yourself up, allowing you to whisper in his ear, “Earn your gift this year, birthday boy.” You feel his body tense up as you lay back to wrap your thick thighs around him, positioning your hips to the left, and thrusting all your strength to your right. Luckily Itadori was caught off guard and is tossed to the mat with you now on top caging him in, smiling as you look down on him. Positioning yourself over his crotch, you twerk your left ass cheek to see his cheeks burn bright maroon, clashing with the pink of his hair. Am I actually gonna win this time? You lose yourself in the rush of successfully throwing him down, but that quickly halts when he takes his hands and locks his grip on your hip. “Let me show you something,” he says, through a shit eating grin, he thrusts up against you, and makes you gasp, but the delicious friction and force don’t stop there. The initial thrust was just a tease, the aftershock that followed had you dropping your mouth open in a silent moan. You felt a heavier thrust go up against your core but the vibrations radiated up through your stomach, rumbling in your chest. Your nipples pebbled, goosebumps flashed against your skin and of course, you fluster, shielding your face in embarrassment from being distracted so soon. “Don’t hide your face, I want to see.” Itadori’s request is gentle and has you dropping your hands to your sides. “If you really want to, let's continue, that was a pretty good move you pulled earlier,” he says, smiling when he slides out from under you and readies himself for the next bout, feet parted, fists up and eyes locked on you. “Okay, I’ll make it count,” you say, more to yourself than to him, before you take two bounds cartwheeling over to him, widening your legs to have them wrap around either side of his head to subdue him. Your heart rate soars with the rush for the second time, but your attention has been pulled from your victory when you feel the heat radiate from Yuji’s breath huff at your center through your thin tights. You were not going to last, with him being so hands on this way. Your inevitable defeat was on the horizon when Itadori starts to growl in between your thighs before biting the plush of them, forcing his face deeper into your core, inhaling deeply, and visibly appreciating the sweet scent of your growing arousal. When he wrestles you onto the mat, he finally tears his face away from you long enough to shoot you a wink and sink his teeth into the waistband of your tights and panties. Hooking his fingers on either side he slides them down your legs without breaking eye contact. Once you are freed of your bottoms, he grabs your right leg and kisses a slow hot trail of kisses up your calf, nipping the back of your knee, smiling as you twitch and whine beneath him. Finally, his heavy calloused hands tighten a bruising grip around your waist, trapping you in his hold. Not that you would be able to shake him off at this point.

Once again Yuji separates his hot mouth from the sensitive flesh of your thigh. “Tiger Lily, I’m so hungry,” he pouts at you, brushing his soft lips against your legs. “You ate so much at the party though,'' you say, but stop when you see a glimmer of mischief in his tawny irises. “Not for food,” he pauses, to leave his tongue over a spot on your thigh and harshly sinks his teeth into you. Growling as he releases his hold on you, waiting for your answer.

Nodding with growing need you say, “Happy Birthday Tiger~” He smiles, and you feel your heart skip a beat before he plunges his face back between your thighs. You gasp when you feel him slide his tongue between your folds, slipping the muscle up and down your entrance, making you clamp down on emptiness, and drawing whines from your pursed lips. The sight makes the blood rush straight to Yujii’s cock, causing him to move with more purpose and urgency. When you feel his grip tighten you sense he is up to something and grip at the mat to ground yourself. He flicks his tongue against your sensitive bud making you start to tremble and heighten the volume of your whimpers. “You are so cute like this tiger lily,” the heat of his breath lilts against your soaking core as he looks up at you, “Can you give me more of those sounds? Please...” He coos. You meet his gaze, the hunger in his eyes contrasting the softness in his voice. “Y-yes, I- I can do that,” you moan, making him smile. “Maybe if I do this. I can make you really sing me happy birthday.” His face vanishes as he returns to where he is nestled between your legs just before you feel two of his thick fingers slip in, quickly picking up the pace. You gasp, your pussy tightening around him as his lips wrap around your throbbing clit, moaning into you. He’s almost ravenous, his tongue lapping up every drop of your essence as his fingers send delicious waves of pressure pulsing inside your plush walls. You’re already so close when he pulls away, his voice breathy and low, ''You're the sweetest thing I’ve tasted all night baby. I want more…” You start to writhe and buck your hips against him, the lewd sounds of him slurping up your juices and groaning his appreciation along with the delicious friction his thick calloused fingers were delivering, were harmonizing together in tightening the coil in your core. When he slams his fingers against your sweet spot you buck up against his stilled hand, managing to inhale to fill your lungs once, before you empty them in a wanton moans, the effects of his divergent fist rippling through your pulsing walls. The pleasure has you seeing sparks, and your body stills while the residual waves of your first orgasm crests over you. All the while, Yuji waits for you to return to your senses, stroking your cheek and whispering, “I’m right here baby, you're doing so well for me.”

His hands cup your cheeks and when you open your eyes, you see him warmly smiling at you, then leaning in to kiss you. You moan at the taste of your essence on his tongue. The sound of your voice spurs him to advance his ministrations on your body. As the effects of your first orgasm ebb away and your heart rate lowers, you once again try to flip him on the mat, pouting when he stiffens his hardened toned body. “I wanted to take care of you, you’re not playing fair,” you say, feigning annoyance as a smile spreads across your lips. You give him a playful shove at his firm peck. “Aw, Tiger lily,” he muses, pausing to nuzzle into the crook of your neck as he raises your arms above your head. You feel his fingertips trailing down your arms stopping at the swell of your breasts, kneading then gently before caressing your sides and whisking the flimsy top away that was separating his bare chest from yours. The sight of your bare body underneath him, makes his pulse flood his ears, and the cord in his core tightens. Unconsciously, he ruts into your thighs, locking eyes with you before he speaks, “Seeing you like this, so vulnerable and open to falling apart at my hands, it’s the best gift you could give me.” You watch his gaze as he takes in every inch of your bare flesh before him, tracing his fingers along every stretch mark and scar kissing your bare middle. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” It’s a declaration from his parted lips, as he peppers kisses up the length of your body, his fingers gripping your waist tighter the higher he goes. “I want more...” his teeth nip at your breasts, “Do you think you can quench my thirst baby?” He growls into your throat, groping hungrily at your breasts. Teasing the peaked nipple of your right, while circling the sensitive skin of the other with his tongue, his hot breath panting against you. Your chest starts to heave for air as your blood starts to run hot in your body. He is filling you with an insatiable need for more. You buck your hips down to him, as he continues his barrage of stimulation coming up for air before alternating breasts and teasing you further. His rutting has increased in pressure, his groans and moans fill your ears and begin making your drip more of your arousal down between your thighs. “I’m all yours tiger,” you breathe out to him, as you weave your fingers into his hair and pull him into another heated kiss, snaking your legs around his waist, moaning into his mouth as he blindly guides the tip of his slick cock head through your soaked lips. When he pushes his throbbing tip into your entrance you immediately feel the stretch and shudder from the pleasure. “I’ve got you,” his voice warm and caressing your neck before he brings his face closer to yours, “Tell me if you want me to stop, I wanted to prep you more but-“ you give his bottom lip a sharp nip. “You know I’m no stranger to pain, hurt me baby.” You run your nails down his scalp and watch his eyelids flutter.

His pupils blow to the size of saucers, crowned by the warm cinnamon brown halo of his irises. His resolve is seconds away from shredding at the promise of your surrender, the instinctive need to dominate and mark you, claw at him as he thrusts inch by inch into you, only for you to gain ground and crush your hips into his. His heated skin slicked with a sheen of sweat beads at his temples as he restrains his movements, embracing the way your cunt greedily swallows him inside. You twitch and moan to the way he stretches you out and fills you, almost too much. The burn from the stretch is laced with pleasure from the sounds of how he desires you and his gluttony for more. Feeling how tight you are Yuji, forms slow tight circles on your clit, collecting your arousal and using your sinful fluids to ease the ache, acclimating your walls to his girth. When you whimper and moan looking up at him pitifully biting your bottom lip, he starts to indulge you and move. Rocking his hips slow at first, but quickly gaining speed. The sensation of his engorged veins slipping past the ridges of your core springs tears in your eyes from the friction. You can feel him pulsate inside you, as he throws your legs over his shoulders and crashes his hips into yours. When you open your eyes, you see the familiar indigo glowing around Yujii’s, his eyes are darkened and he has the look of dominance surrounding him, but when your eyes meet, he gives you his warm smile that melts your heart, and silently reassures you that he has you. Relaxing into his hold that’s where you feel it, the sharp snap of his hips, forging ripples of pleasure throughout your body. The initial thrust was rocking your core already, but he had other plans with his cursed energy, the aftershocks caused a powerful undertow of pressure. Each thrust into you was followed by two surges of energy emitting from the impact of him slamming into your gummy walls. Your mewls, moans and sighs kept pushing him to further pound into you. Scooping you up, Yuji repositions you to have your face down on the mat, and ass up in the air. He couldn’t restrain himself from licking another hot strip up through your lips and spreading you, gripping a handful of your ass in each hand. He loves how plush, soft and pliant you are. Indulging into his senses he sinks his teeth into the swell of your ass, drawing out another moan from you. “That’s it baby...I want to hear all of it. Don’t hold back.” He finishes with a hard slap to your ass and watches the force, making your ass clap together. “I don’t think I can hold back any more babe.” He says as he pumps himself admiring your ass. You push up onto your elbows, looking back at him with a smirk, “Then tear me apart, Tiger.” you say, salaciously swinging your hips to him. That’s all he needed to plunge deep into you, throwing caution to the wind. When he plunges into you at this angle, you feel him quickly finding your sweet spot. “There-please baby, right there,” you plead, losing your breath with every thrust. Yuji smooths his palms down the expanse of your back, raking his blunt nails as he drags his hands back to the swell of your ass. All while he plunges into you at a punishing pace. The room echoes the sounds of his hips crashing into you, and the slap of his balls against your clit. When his movements start to stutter he grabs you by your hips, and pulls you down onto his cock as he drives his cock deep into you. The tip of his cock only and inch away from your cervix, but the divergent energy delivers enough waves of force throughout your contracting walls to reach your cervix, pushing you into the hazy depths of your orgasm, that has your entire being trembling as your pussy milks him for all he’s worth, filling you past your limit. Yuji goes crossed eyed gripping onto you for grounding as the waves of pleasure wrack through him too. When both of you collapse onto each other on the mat, you lay in an embrace until you catch your breath. “ I love you,” you say as you kiss his lips. He returns the kiss, wrapping his arms snuggly around your

waist. “ I love you too..” he trails off “what’s wrong?” you ask.

“Well...I did say I was hungry, and you fed me, but now, I’m even more thirsty,” He looks down at you with a devilish grin, holding you even tighter as he continues, “I want to make you squirt on my tongue.” Your eyes widen as you feel your core tightening all over again, “Are you ready for another go?” he asks. You smirk back up at him, “We have all night Tiger, do your worst.”

[jaskiersvalley]

Much love to you and your writing dearest!! I was scrolling the internet the other fine day and came across an animal called the Maned Wolf, researching it, it looks like a fox but it’s not a fox NOR a wolf, but why I bring it up, is because I see Jaskier as one. If you look at pictures, the maned wolf is quiet long, very long legs, and because of the fox appearance I would think it’s rather playful, any who, I love your work and I hope you’re having a good day sweet pea!!

Two things Nonnie, firstly, I’m sat here grinning because I don’t think anyone has called me ‘sweet pea’ before and that is just delightful. Secondly, Jaskier as a Maned Wolf is so spot on! You have the mind of a genius. Alas, an idea has run away from me and I wish to apologise for the silliness in advance.

Everyone had an animal form. Children first shifted around the age of five and often enjoyed extended periods discovering their animal form. There was such a variety of forms, everything was a possibility from soft lamb to fierce tiger. A few unlucky were butterflies or guppies. Birds were also quite wide spread, it wasn’t unusual to see a flock of mismatched birds learning to fly together. People often travelled in their animal form, it was often quicker and easier than as a human. There was no taboo around forms and people shifted between human and animal as it suited.

Despite this, witchers didn’t shift. Rumours split opinion as to why that was. Some people believed that the mutations made their animal forms monstrous. A dog morphed into Cerberus, a gorilla into a drowner. It was quite common to believe only the fiercest of animal forms got taken as witchers, mutated so they could fight their own kind, monster against monster. However, other people thought witchers didn’t shift because they couldn’t. They believed the mutations whisked away the animal form but pulled the mentality of the animal form into the human body.

Neither theories were quite right, as Jaskier learned. He had followed Geralt up The Killer on four legs, finding it easier and warmer to navigate the path as a maned wolf. His long legs certainly helped with that. It was a shame Geralt didn’t shift, he’d promised he would when they got to Kaer Morhen but no sooner. Jaskier could be patient, he curled up against Geralt during the nights, basking in the warm touch.

Kaer Morhen was strangely full. From the stories Jaskier had managed to draw from Geralt, it used to be just the four wolves wintering together if they all made it. However, they were greeted by an additional witcher and a human too. Plus Jaskier himself. Which meant Kaer Morhen was as full as it had been since the sacking.

They were all settled in and heading down for dinner. Frustratingly, Geralt hadn’t shifted yet, something about a time and place. Jaskier was too busy watching him to pay attention to where he was going and he almost fell face first as he tripped over a large rabbit. It was huge and so very angry, cute little brows pulls down and back leg thumping to express deep displeasure.

“Sorry Vesemir,” Geralt called as he righted Jaskier.

“Wait!” Immediately, Jaskier was peering down at the giant rabbit. “That’s Vesemir?”

In the blink of an eye Vesemir was standing in front of them and rubbing his hip where Jaskier’s foot had caught him.

“That a problem, bard?”

It was unexpected, a Belgian Giant as a witcher’s animal form. Jaskier couldn’t quite get over it but he shook his head. Not that things got any better. They walked into the dining hall and there was the most adorable creature sat on the table.

“What is that?”

“Aiden,” Lambert said as he strolled in. “Oi, brat! What did we say about butts on the table?”

The quokka gave a smiling glare and Jaskier was mesmerised. A rabbit witcher was surely a fluke. But with another innocent looking animal, maybe there was something going on. Turning to ask Geralt about it, Jaskier gasped. Geralt wasn’t behind him. Well, he was but not as a human. Instead, a roe deer stared up at him with large, dark eyes. His hooves clopped on the stone ground as he walked towards the kitchen, head held high.

“No animals in the kitchen!” Eskel’s voice called. Before Geralt could turn around, an alpaca bounded over. It was Cahir who had to chase them from the kitchen with a wooden spoon wielded like a weapon. Geralt had a cucumber in his mouth and he dutifully shared his spoils with Lambert in the corner. Even Aiden clambered closer and snatched some of Lambert’s portion. Jaskier had so many questions.

Vesemir stood by his shoulder, watching. “The first attempts were a miserable failure. The witchers were too violent, too aggressive. They were selected based on their animal forms, tigers, sharks, bears. But it was too much, they were uncontrollable. Something softer was needed. The meekness of gentle animals, lambs, sloths, chinchillas, they could weather the mutations without losing their humanity.”

Which left a question about Eskel. However, Vesemir shook his head and promised they would show more in the next couple of days.

It seemed that witchers loved spending time in their animal forms. As the most dangerous one there, Jaskier felt responsible for the witchers in their animal forms. Not that Eskel or Cahir ever shifted. They kept very much human and seemed content. When the weather allowed, they went on excursions. Lambert and Geralt happily bounced through the undergrowth, playing some intricate game of tag and leap. Vesemir and Aiden were more content snuffling around, close to Jaskier. While it seemed that Jaskier was the predator guarding his herbivores, the reality was very much the opposite.

On a sunny afternoon they made it up to the lakes. Jaskier watched as Cahir and Eskel happily waded in, clothes discarded on the shore. One blink and Eskel suddenly disappeared. There wasn’t a ripple on the surface to suggest he had dived down. Puzzled, Jaskier stood on the edge of the lake and stared at the water. He almost missed the oranda goldfish swimming up to him. Such a decorative fish was do out of place in the wild and Jaskier blinked. He shifted back to human form out of surprise.

“Eskel?”

Next to him, Lambert sat on the ground and reached into the water to poke the fish. If fish could scowl, Jaskier was certain he had just seen it, the goldfish looked pissed off and pushed away from under the questing finger. A splash drew Jaskier’s attention and his jaw dropped. Where Cahir had been was a giant freshwater stingray. He was magnificent, spanning several meters in size. But absolutely useless in terms of an animal form.

“Our little water babies.” Lambert almost sounded proud. “I had an aquarium for Eskel but then we found Cahir and, well, he can’t exactly fit in a large jar.”

Suddenly, Jaskier was so very grateful for his form. He could protect himself if needed but didn’t look threatening. Hell, he was even quite pretty, if he was honest with himself. Nobody started anything funny when faced with a snarling maned wolf. Add in the bonus of it being practical, he didn’t shift and suddenly find himself drowning in air, Jaskier found a new peace with his form. And, he knew he would guard the witchers’ secret with his life. Cute, fluffy and inoffensive. There was more of a chance someone would choke on Eskel as a fish than him doing and damage. It wasn’t like he could slap his opponent hard with a flick of his tail. Then again, Jaskier didn’t make a habit of fighting in his animal form. Geralt almost always stepped in when needed, fully human and imposing. Though, some part of Jaskier wanted to know what the reaction would be if a soft, harmless looking deer butted into a fight. He made sure he’d never find out though, too protective of his innocent witchers to betray them like that.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 8)

She spends the night at Min-Min’s her ankle and foot throb incessantly, it keeps her from escaping into the merciful world of sleep. She spends much of the night agonizing over how irreparably isolated she is. She tells herself that she isn’t sure why she can’t bring herself to let anyone in. Why she always flashes the worst of her colors at the first sign of a bond. But she knows. She knows very well. But she doesn’t want to say the word. Doesn’t want to admit it.

Fear.

It is always about fear. She is afraid and so she will make others fear her. If they fear her...if they hate her then she won’t grow attached. And if she doesn’t grow attached then she won’t have to fear loss. If she purposefully pushes everyone away then she won’t have to fear doing it by accident. At least this way she controls what she loses.

She doesn’t get even a minute of sleep. Rather, she stares out the window until a crack of yellow appears on the horizon. It isn’t until the sun is well in the sky that the door bursts open.

She utters a cry of surprise and annoyance as she finds herself being body slammed onto the mattress, “you’re back!” The boy shouts.

She inhales deeply and plucks him off of her. “I’m back Atsu.” Her forlorn manner of speaking does not perturb him in the slightest. She would wager that he hasn’t caught a hint of it at all. “How is your father?”

The boy grins and opens his mouth.

“I’m fine now.” The man says.

“What was wrong before now?”

He presses his lips together and rubs his hands over his face. “I was worried.”

“About what?”

And now he looks thoroughly and truly exhausted. “You, Rikka.” He catches sight of her foot, “And I guess I had a good reason to be.”

“I’m fine. It’s…” she remembers glitching at the depth of the trap’s bite. “Not as bad as Min-Min probably made it sound.”

“Rikka, I didn’t think that you were going to come back.”

“Why would you think that?” It is a stupid question but she doesn’t know how else she is supposed to reply. She can’t reassure him that she would have.

“Because you have a history of…” He makes a rather absurd and sweeping arm gesture. “Of wandering.” When she doesn’t speak he fills in the gaps. “And you would have done it again if you had two feet to do it on.”

She stares at the bedsheets.

“You know that he cried right?”

“Nah-uh!” Atsu shakes his head rapidly. “You cried, dad.”

“That makes one person.” Azula mutters. “I know that I’m not wanted here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“How long did you imagine that they would be tolerant of a firebender…”

“A long time, Rikka.” He says simply.

She swallows.

“Why do you think that you aren’t wanted here?”

“Ojihara said as much.”

He quirks a brow. “Really? Because Caihong’s father tells me that his old man hit the drinks harder than he has in a while the night you left.”

She inhales sharply through her nose. “Well if he wasn’t mad then, he certainly is now.”

“Oh no, he was mad. He’s still furious. He said that he has never met a more disrespectful, ungrateful, unhelpful, demon-sent being in his entire life.”

Azula flinches.

“But he never met someone that made his granddaughter smile that much. And he never met anyone else who could actually get his son off of his lazy ass to harvest that many turnips.”

She feels the mattress dip. “Old man Oji likes you. It’s just that he’s about as awful as you are at letting people know that.”

“You know just what to say.” Azula grumbles.

“That’s not true, I could tell you to walk on over to Old Man Oji’s farm and make amends. Instead I’m telling you to make amends with Old Man Oji but do it after I walk him to you.”

Azula offers him her most deadpan stare before taking hold of the bedpost and heaving herself up. “It isn’t broken, it’s swollen, I can walk just fine.”  One step proves that she, in fact, cannot.

With a sigh, he scoops her into his arms and carries her outside.

“What are you--”

“I haven’t known you long, Rikka. But I’ve known you long enough to know that you’ll find a way to leave your bed somehow. I figured that I’d save everyone the trouble and help you do it.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going by Old Man Oji!” Atsu declares. “Dad said that he was gonna make you apologize to Oji. Guess what!?”

“What?”

“While you were gone, one of my other teeth got wiggly!”

“That’s nice, Atsu.” Truthfully she finds his fascination with teeth and biting things quite appalling. She turns her attention to his father. “Are you really going to take me to Ojihara’s home?”

“I sure am.”

.oOo.

She feels like a child as she sits at the table.

“Oooo, yer in trouble.” Caihong whispers.

“Shut up.” She hisses.

Caihong giggles. Atsu giggles. She frowns quite deeply. Evidently she had never imagined, could have never possibly imagined, that she would find herself waiting on an old man while two children poke fun at her strife.

She feels hands curl over her shoulders. At least she has something going for her. He massages the tension out of her shoulders. She doesn’t think that she could have imagined that one of the children’s fathers would be a source of comfort. Atsu grins at his father. And then he looks at her. Looks her straight in the eye with a rather furious intensity. He holds her stare, she refuses to blink first and he doesn’t do it either. And then he opens his mouth and wiggles his tooth at her. He bursts out laughing. Caihong bursts out laughing. Azula does not understand children.

The boy’s father laughs too. She decides that she doesn’t understand people in general. “I do not understand. Why are we laughing?”

The man shrugs. “Sometimes you just have to laugh because they’re laughing, ya know?”

“No.”

“Rikka.”

She tenses at the creaky voice.

“Ojihara.”

“You stupid, reckless girl!”

Her temper flares but she keeps her voice dangerously low and light, “I am anything but.”  She thinks that she sounds icy and slick but maybe she just sounds sad and dejected.

Ojihara sighs and his expression softens. “You are probably one of the brightest workers I’ve had…”

“The bar is rather low.”

The old man chuckles. “‘Round these parts, maybe. But you’re an intelligent woman. I guess that that’s why I don’t understand how you can just up and leave after one argument.”

She shrugs. “I am smart enough to take a hint. I received several of them. They weren’t well concealed.”

“One time I went to the zoo and I met a seal-tiger. Or maybe it was a tiger-seal…” Atsu trails off.

“Can your boy and my granddaughter outside?” And with that request, she and Ojihara are alone. He lets a few moments pass before speaking. “I wouldn’t have been so cross if I didn’t see potential in you.”

She nods, this she understands. She isn’t sure how she hadn’t thought of that before. “My father is the same he…” She could slap herself. That is too much. She isn’t sure how she could let such a thing slip. “I think that you shouldn’t set your expectations so high. I am rather good at laying waste to potential.” She musters a bitter smile, “believe me.”

“I don’t.” Ojihara replies. “Not for a moment.”

“If you knew…”

He holds his hand up. “I know all that I need to. I know that sometimes tools are needed for potential to be reached. I would like to give you those tools if you would be open to them.”

Azula swallows, “you don’t know what tools I need.”

“Not all of them, no. But I think I can name a few.” He pauses. “Patience and understanding, second chances. I think that those are good tools to offer.”

.oOo.

They are waiting for her when she slowly hobbles her way down the porch steps. Ojihara calls Caihong in for dinner. He offers to let them stay but Azula shakes her head. She can see it in his eyes, that Atsu has already claimed her attention for the night.

“Wasn’t so bad was it? To apologize.”

“I didn’t apologize.” She says smugly.

“Old Man Oji wouldn’t have forgiven you if you didn’t in some way or another.” He shrugs. “He’s good at gauging people.”

She cocks her head.

“If he thinks that you’re worth it, you’re worth it.” He says as though it truly is that simple.

“Do you agree with him?”

He comes to a stop. “Well Atsu hasn’t taken this kindly to a stranger since his mother walked out on us…” He pauses. “I agree with Old Man Oji. I’m glad that you came back.” He makes his way over to a bench and sets her down. “You will stay after that heals, right?”

She works a muscle in her jaw before nodding. “I suppose.”

“Good.” He tucks her bangs behind her ears. “I like having you around. Wu Jing has been much more interesting since you got here.”

She manages a faint smile. Atsu makes a gagging noise which she makes a point of ignoring. “Thank you, Hajime.”

That night she learns what it is to forgive. To be forgiven.

.oOo.

They treat her surprisingly well, most everyone does, despite most of them having horrid final encounters with her before her disappearance. The servants still talk pleasantly with her as they comb her hair and wash her face. The guards greet her with bows and warm smiles. Advisors speak to her as though they had never witnessed the degradation of her mind. They insist that they are happy to see that she is doing better. Happy to see her in general.

She doesn’t know why she is still unhappy. No, that isn’t true. As they paint her nails and rub pretty fragrances onto her skin, she knows that her heart is still aching for something so much simpler. Aching for something that she could have had. Something that had so quickly become just one more thing that was stolen from her.

Dread is little help and Agni knows that her nerves are completely frayed with it. Zuko’s promise of the best dumplings she’d ever taste does nothing when anxiety sapps her appetite away. Her final encounter with Mai and TyLee was even more tragic than any that she had with the palace staff.

One of them tilts her chin up and gives an approving smile. “You’re ready for the day, princess.”  And they send her on her way, leaving her to do whatever it is that she does. And that day what she does is steal away into her room and lie down.

Granted she tried to do some reading first, but her eyes merely skimmed over the words as her brain raced somewhere else entirely. She clasps her hands just below her chest and stares at the ceiling until laying on her back is no longer comfortable.

Zuko sends for her nearly a half an hour later. Making her way down the hall is somehow more daunting than venturing from Chin to Yon Rah and from there to Capital City. Everyone is seated, and probably have been seated for a while, by the time she finds her own. Zuko sits at the head of the table with Mai under his arm. TyLee has the first seat on the left side of the table and Sokka has the right. The urge to take the seat all the way at the other end of the table is enthralling and she almost does. She might have if Sokka hadn’t waved her over.

She lingers for a moment before muttering, “you’re in my spot.”

“Your spot?”

“Correct, I have been sitting there since I was a child.” But it is disconcerting to see Zuko sitting where her father always has. Sokka stands and lets her have her seat.

“You’re really going to make a fuss about where you sit?” Mai comments. “You’re lucky that you get to sit here at all.”

She shrugs, she isn’t sure that it is luck at all. Mostly, she thinks that it is a mistake.

“I don’t mind.” Sokka replies.

Azula jabs at her dumplings but can’t clear the flutter out of her stomach long enough to do anymore than that. She remembers eating dumplings in Chin. She remembers that they weren’t hot enough and they were rather dry but they were made with caring hands… She remembers dinners. Dinners that weren’t uncomfortable. Happy dinners. Not particularly satisfying meals, but Agni, the conversation was enough to keep the drab tastes from her mind.

“How are things with the Kyoshi Warriors?” She tries.

TyLee hesitates, “they’re going well.”

“What do you do?”

“Well right now Suki and I have been helping guard Zuko during travels and sometimes Aang.”

“There are certain threats that they had to constantly look out for.” Mai gives her a pointed stare.

Azula nods. Her mood dips and she takes to forcing herself to eat her dumplings.

Sokka lets her get several bites in before  asking, “why don’t you tell us what you have been up to, Azula?”

“I’ve been up to a lot’a...” She clears her throat. “A lot of things, I suppose.” Sokka furrows his brows at her and she isn’t sure of exactly what he is trying to convey.

“Did you meet anyone interesting?” Sokka asks.

Her heart clenches. “Several, yes.”

“Why don’t you tell us about one of them?”

She isn’t sure that she wants to open old wounds. She sifts through her mind for something that isn’t so painful. “There was this Swamp by Chin village. I went there because...someone I knew wanted to see it. I didn’t particularly want to go to a swamp.” She pauses. There were these men, they wore leaves and nothing but. They tried to hunt and eat Dàxiyi.”

“Dàxiyi?” TyLee tilts her head.

“My mongoose-lizard.”  Azula answers. “I only left him alone for a moment to move a tree branch out of the way.”

Sokka laughs, “classic ambush tactic.”

Azula shakes her head. “They weren’t that smart, Sokkka. They took Dàxiyi and when I found him I demanded that they gave him back. They pretended like they hadn’t seen him, threw a pile of leaves over his head, and said, ‘see, lady, ain’t no lizard-goose here’. They just got lucky.”

“Did you...get him back?” Zuko inquires.

“Yes, after chasing them through the swamp for several hours. Turns out that they could bend vines and swamp water and they knew exactly where to go and hide.”

“Oh you must have met Due and Tho!” Sokka declares. “They tried to hunt Appa!”

“Yes.” Azula nods. “That sounds right.”

“How did you catch them?” TyLee asks.

“I didn’t…” She trails off. “One of the people I was traveling with did. There was a third man, the one who could bend the vines, he invited us to stay for dinner?”

“And?”

“It was the worst food I had ever eaten.” She pauses. “They cooked it in swamp water.”  She crinkles her nose. She is almost certain that she had swallowed a good clump of mud that night.

“You didn’t try to burn their village for stealing your mongoose-lizard.”

Azula jabs at her dumpling again. “No sense in that.”

“Right, you probably found something worse to do.”

“I didn’t do anything to them. I took my mongoose-lizard and went home.”  She finishes her dumpling and pushes the plate aside. “I’ll be in my bedroom.” Even after all of this time, after everything, she still can’t bring herself to let her walls down. She wonders if she has learned anything at all. Perhaps it is that her travels truly have amounted to nothing but loss and more failed potential.   She pushes her chair in.

.oOo.

“Azula, wait.”

“For what, Zuzu. I’m finished.”

“I’d like to hear another story.”

“I don’t have anymore.”

“Why don’t you tell us about the people you went to the swamp with? He suggests.

Sokka notices her clutching the fabric of her pants under the table “There isn’t much to tell. They went to the Swamp with me and we parted ways.”

“What about other people that you met?” He asks. He isn’t sure that he is making things any easier for her. He likes to think that he is.

“I never stayed with any of them for longer than a few days. A week at most.”

Sokka opens his mouth and closes it once more. “I have more waiting for me in the Spirit World than I do here.” In his mind’s eye, her lips move, softly spilling subtle sorrows. And he wonders if he has just pushed her into a painful situation. His stomach lolls.

“So you did all of that traveling and you didn’t find one person that you actually cared about?” Mai quirks a brow.

“Not one.”

But her eyes, those sad, weary eyes...

“People are disposable to you, aren’t they. Once they serve their purpose they don’t mean a thing.”

He almost asks her what she meant by her Spirit World comment, if she hadn’t met anyone worth caring for. Decidedly, that is just swapping one uncomfortable conversation for another.

“What are you staring at?” She mutters.

“I uh…I just…” he sputters as he fights to think of a safer conversational topic. “Where did you get that necklace, it’s well crafted?” Her eyes widen, if only briefly, and he knows that he has just asked another jarring question.  “Someone gave it to you, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, it was a gift.” She answers so quietly that she might as well have not spoken at all.

“So you did have someone you cared about?” TyLee blinks.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Zuko asks.

“I don’t want to tell such a long story right now.”

.oOo.

Because it hurts. It hurts so badly. Badly and mightily enough for it to occupy her mind for the rest of an already agonizing dinner. Badly enough for it to follow her back to her bedroom. Terribly enough for her to feel queasy. Terribly enough for the pangs of loss to send phantom twitches along her scar.

She tightly holds the stuffed badger-mole to her chest. Her fingers bunch around its discolored cloth as other fingers have done so many times before. She considers, not for the first time, tracking those men down. Every single one of them. Yes that is what she should do. Now that dinner has gone as dreadfully as she had anticipated, she should leave the palace and seek them out….

“Hey.” Sokka greets sheepishly.

Azula’s grip tightens. “What do you want?”

.oOo.

“To say that I didn’t mean to bring that up.” He mutters. His tummy flutters and flops incessantly. It hasn’t even been a week and he has already crunched several of the eggshells he has been walking on, severed whatever delicate thread he’d formed with her. “I just thought that it was something you bought from some vendor…”

Azula sits up and he notices the badger-mole in her lap. His heart seizes all over again.

“I also wanted to tell you that they aren’t mad…”

“Not mad?” She scoffs.

“They aren’t.” He insists. “I think that they know that you have to...get used to things.”

“You said it yourself, I’m not easy to have conversations with.” She rubs her fingers over the worn fabric of the badger-mole.

“It’s just that you have a lot of secrets.”

“And why does everyone want to know them?”

He thinks for a moment, “well why don’t you want to tell us about the people you met?”

Her fingers clench around one of the badger-mole’s stuffed paws.

“That was a stupid question, wasn’t it?” He asks. “I guess I wouldn’t want to talk about something like that either. But it could help, you know? To talk about the people you lost, so they won’t be forgotten.”

“Sokka.” Her voice dips, but he can’t detect any malice or bite. He sees something flash behind her eyes, something he can’t quite decipher.

“Alright, I’ll go...”

She catches him by the wrist, “not yet.”

He cringes and wonders what kind of earful he is in for.

“I…” she strokes the badger-mole. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

.oOo.

She doesn’t want to be alone ever again. Perhaps she is struggling to retain most of what she has learned in her travels. But, Agni, she can’t forget that very first lesson. The bed dips and some of the disquiet and dread dissipates.

“Okay.” Sokka smiles. “You don’t have to be alone.”

She can’t bring herself to talk anymore. She doesn’t have the words. Maybe there simply aren’t any. Not ones that can truly express how deep the hollow spaces in her heart run. How cold and vacant it is where warmth had once been. And what a laughably short lifespan that warmth had. She doesn’t talk anymore. She only holds the badger-mole close to her.

But Sokka doesn’t leave. For some reason, he doesn’t leave.  

[izukusensei]

Double Edged Sword (part 1)

Todoroki is a visitor from a neighboring clan, a welcomed guest in Lord Yagi’s home. Bakugou is assigned as his escort, meant to not only chaperone, but to acclimate him to the ways of the Yuuei Clan. When Bakugou finds Todoroki stealing a treasured possession from Lord Yagi, his task becomes more difficult than he anticipated.

author: izukusensei pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Todoroki Shouto word count: 3000+ tags: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon AU, fighting, some adult content

“The sword of destiny has two edges. You are one of them.” x Andrzej Sapkowski 

Legend says that the Sword of Destiny will grant victory to any person who wields it. Its master will be able to turn the tide of battle… of war… of history. In the martial world, where clans have been vying for control for hundreds of years, this power is precious… priceless. 

But only the most worthy may wield the sword, as the legend goes. So, it has been passed down from hand to carefully chosen hand, from mentor to carefully chosen student, since its creation so long ago. The Sword of Destiny now belongs to Midoriya Izuku of the Yuuei clan, however left in the care of Toshinori Yagi - Midoriya’s mentor and the sword’s former master - who has promised to keep it safe while the young man completes his training.  

But it’s a dangerous time to be charged with such a task, to protect an object that holds so much power. The sword’s seventh master, Shimura Nana, has been killed in battle, Lord Yagi has been severely injured while avenging her death, and Midoriya has left Yuuei territory to complete his training, opening up a power vacuum in the martial world. 

Now, the Sword of Destiny lies waiting, ready for its new master to claim it. 

“If you come quietly, you may be shown mercy.”

“If I don’t come at all,” Todoroki replies, “then I have no need for mercy.”

Bakugou watches as Todoroki turns around to face him, the sword he has come to claim now to his back, still resting undisturbed on its pedestal. The room is dark all but for the full moon shining through the open windows, its light illuminating the sword’s wooden sheath and eclipsing Todoroki in its umbra, cloaking him in shadow. 

Neither man draws his weapon, though both are well aware that the other is armed. Bakugou is never without his sword attached securely to his hip and rarely is Todoroki seen without the twin blades upon his back.

But with any luck, they won’t come to blows. Not with steel, at least. Bakugou has never been one to back down from a fight, but that’s not how he wants this to end. Not with him and Todoroki. But Todoroki has gone this far, betrayed Lord Yagi’s trust and lied to Bakugou in more ways than one, so Bakugou knows that the other man won’t turn back now, no matter the outcome. 

“Lord Yagi invites you into his home,” Bakugou growls, “and this is the gratitude you repay him with?!”

Todoroki shouldn’t even be here, shouldn’t have ever been welcomed into Yuuei territory as he was. As Lord Todoroki Enji’s only son, he’s the next in line to lead the Doryoku once his father cannot, the heir to a clan of murderers and raiders and thieves.

They’ve been terrorizing the border between the Yuuei clan and themselves for years now and Lord Yagi thought that a little good faith could change that. He and Lord Todoroki were brothers in arms once, so long ago. They fought together and lived together as comrades before Lord Todoroki decided that he wanted more than the humble life of a Yuuei warrior.

He went rogue, started his own clan – the Doryoku – taking in outcasts, criminals, and those not fit to lead a proper warrior lifestyle. The clan grew quickly and throughout the years, Lord Todoroki has made a name for himself as one of the most feared and formidable men in the martial world. 

So, when a message was sent to Lord Yagi, requesting that he take in Todoroki Enji’s only son as his ward, an offering to express his sympathies over Shimura Nana’s death and to build a bridge between the two clans, Yagi accepted with little hesitation. The younger Todoroki was sent under the guise of peace, but Bakugou now knows better. It was a ruse, all of it. And Bakugou fell for it, completely. 

Bakugou hasn’t been part of the Yuuei clan for more than a few years now, but he was quick to gain Yagi’s trust and the favor of Yagi’s student and successor, Midoriya Izuku. With Midoriya gone to train with Sorahiko Torino, Lord Yagi had assigned Bakugou as Todoroki’s chaperone, to see to his needs and acclimate him to the Yuuei clan’s ways of life. 

The two of them grew close, closer than Bakugou should’ve allowed. Bakugou feels his mistake like a knife through the heart, one which will leave a scar that he knows will never fade. 

“All I need to do is raise the alarm,” Bakugou continues, trying to coax some kind of reaction out of the other man. Anything to combat this cold silence that’s surrounding them. 

When Todoroki doesn’t answer, Bakugou begins to move, taking a few small steps to his left. Not fast enough to startle the other man into a fight, but enough that Todoroki has to follow him, pivoting his body where he stands. 

As Todoroki turns, the light from the moon begins to illuminate the porcelain skin of his face, leaving the other side in shadow. Bakugou takes in the shape of the man’s rounded cheek, the silhouette of a chiseled jawline, the soft white of his pinned-up hair that seems to shimmer beneath the pale glow of the moon.

Bakugou, at one time, would picture strands of his own flaxen hair intertwined in a braid with Todoroki’s long tresses. Bakugou’s shorter hair would bear Todoroki’s mark, as well – white and red woven into blonde. This is the Yuuei clan’s symbol of lovers parted, because Bakugou knew that the day would come when Todoroki would have to go back to the Doryoku. But he never thought it would be so soon, and surely not under these conditions. 

“I’ll bring this whole damn house down around you!” Bakugou snarls. “Is that what you want, Todoroki?!”

They’re facing each other, the Sword of Destiny now to Bakugou’s left, Todoroki’s right. Bakugou’s chest feels heavy, heaving even with so little exertion. He feels his fingertips begin to itch, his body become restless. He feels wild, out of control, so different from Todoroki’s cold composure. 

Todoroki breaks eye contact with Bakugou and looks out toward the window, up toward the moon. The wind wafts in, sending wisps of white and red hair billowing across his face. “You would have done it already, if you were going to,” he replies, seemingly unphased by Bakugou’s coming undone.

“This will be a declaration of war!” Bakugou says, almost pleading, needing Todoroki’s attention on him once more. “Shouto…”

Todoroki does look back at Bakugou then, with an expression that the other man can only describe as regretful. “You don’t understand,” he replies before he takes a breath and steels himself, hardening his face like a mask. He takes a step back on one foot, bracing himself for the fight to come. “I can’t leave without the sword.”

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffs, getting into position himself. “Then you’re not leaving at all.”

Bakugou is the one with everything to lose, and he knows it. If Todoroki closes the distance between the sword and himself before Bakugou can get to him, then they will both be lost, Todoroki being quicker and more swift than Bakugou will ever be. And even if a chase does ensue, Bakugou will surely be led into Doryoku territory, which would no doubt be a deadly mistake on his part. 

So Bakugou attacks first, fists aiming at debilitating points in an attempt to end the fight fast. Nose. Temple. Kidneys. Todoroki evades all three. He counters with strikes of his own - jaw, chest, kick to the knee - which Bakugou blocks instead of dodges.

Todoroki is quick, slender, and lithe, his training obviously emphasizing grace, agility, and speed. He’s strong, but nowhere near as strong as Bakugou, who has grown powerful from years of wielding his heavy sword. In turn, Bakugou’s technique is blunt, brutal force. Slower than Todoroki, but more destructive. 

They’re true opposites of each other. Two sides of a perfectly balanced sword.

They lunge and parry. Punch, kick, and strike. With every step, Bakugou moves himself between Todoroki and the weapon he has come to claim, forcing his opponent to retreat further into the room with each charge.

Bakugou attacks with a signature move - Dragon of the Rising Dawn. Todoroki counterattacks with Winter Lotus. Back and forth, never wavering. Fanned Flame and then Frozen Tempest. Smoking Fire Flower and then…

Todoroki’s kick connects. Bakugou barely sees the man’s foot leave the ground before his neck is wrenched backward by the force of the blow to his face. He stumbles back in shock, spitting at the acrid taste filling his mouth. 

They’ve sparred over the months that Todoroki has been in Yuuei. Bakugou thought he knew how Todoroki’s body moved almost by rote now, the angle of his punches, the speed in which he can strike. He thought he knew, but as Bakugou has quickly learned, Todoroki has been hiding yet another piece of himself. Bakugou doesn't know this move. Has never seen this style. Todoroki knew - he knew he would have to use it some day.

Bakugou can’t linger on the betrayal. This fight isn’t over yet. Bakugou charges.

It’s quiet in Lord Yagi’s armory. The room is silent save for the sound of flesh on flesh when someone connects or blocks a hit, their heavy breathing, the shuffling of feet. Despite his threats, Bakugou has wanted to keep this discreet as possible, to convince Todoroki to give up and turn himself in, or to even leave and go back to the Doryoku. But Bakugou is caught off guard by Todoroki’s sudden change of style, the skills and techniques he has never before seen from the man. He knows that Todoroki will win this if he keeps fighting him hand-to-hand. 

The sound of metal against metal will surely draw a passing guard, if not rouse the household, but Bakugou pulls his sword from its scabbard anyway, whip-quick and poised toward Todoroki. 

“I’ll let you leave,” Bakugou says in an uncharacteristic display of kindness. “Just forget about the sword and go home.”

Todoroki shakes his head, eyes somber, as he reaches up and behind his back. He pulls his twin swords from their scabbards, not quick like Bakugou, but slow and steady and practiced. He’s opening himself up for an attack, and at this distance, with his speed, Bakugou could end it all now, could land the final blow to ensure the safety of the sword and the Yuuei clan’s position in the martial world.

But he doesn’t. He waits. It’s the Yuuei way to ensure that fights are fair and honorable, and even with so much to lose, Bakugou would never turn his back on the principals Lord Yagi and the Yuuei clan have instilled in him. 

And even if that wasn’t so, this is still Shouto…

They’re both without any armor. Bakugou supposes that Todoroki left his behind in favor of being silent and stealthy. Bakugou, for his part, only left his bed because Todoroki was yet to join him. He meant only to seek him out, not knowing that he would be bearing witness to that very man’s treachery.

Not knowing that not having his armor would be the difference between peace and war in the martial world. 

This is dangerous. Both men are deadly. Bakugou’s sword is large and heavy, and spans more distance than Todoroki’s shorter, thinner swords. But Todoroki’s weapons are light and swift, able to slice through the air with little effort. 

Like the ringing of a bell, sound echoes through the armory as weapons clash. Bakugou lets loose a barrage of blows, hacking-hacking-hacking away at Todoroki’s smaller swords and waning energy. The repeated impact becomes too much for him, and his sword is knocked from his left hand, leaving him with only half his defense, but double the strength to wield it.

Todoroki raises his sword with both hands, ready to deliver what will no doubt be a mighty blow. Bakugou raises his own sword to block it but is met with a kick to his unprotected stomach, knocking the wind out of him and making him stagger back in pain and surprise. Before he can reorient himself, Todoroki’s blade slices through the space between them and lands flush against Bakugou’s throat.

The blow would have killed him, should have. The speed and strength behind the strike would have been enough to cut through half of Bakugou’s neck, but Todoroki stopped just in time. He does put more pressure against Bakugou’s throat though, taking a step forward and forcing the other man back. Bakugou hits the wall, and with nowhere else to go he flattens himself against the unyielding stone. 

Todoroki’s eyes are hard and unmoving from Bakugou’s own, his hand ever-steady, but Bakugou sees the tick in his jaw before it tenses, sees the hesitation. Todoroki could still kill him. A quick slide of the sword at the right spot and Bakugou will bleed out in less than a minute.  

“Don’t show me mercy, you little shit,” Bakugou hisses, pressing the flesh of his throat further into the blade. “I wouldn’t do the same for you.”

Todoroki’s brows furrow, lips narrow. This close, Bakugou doesn’t know whether to look at his grey eye or the blue, they have both always captivated him with equal measure. But he makes sure not to look away, because his words aren’t just provoking - they’re prophetic. If Todoroki lets him live, he can be sure that their next fight won’t end so graciously.

“Drop your weapon, Katsuki.”

The hilt of Bakugou’s weapon is still clutched tight in his hand - his arm extended outward at his side, the tip of the sword almost touching the floor. His fingers clench around it and Bakugou is ready to defy him, but Todoroki’s blade cuts into his throat, shallow, but the sword is sharp and he can feel the rivulets of blood creeping down his neck. 

“Drop it,” Todoroki tells him again. 

He does then, drops his sword to the ground with a metallic clang. Without lowering his gaze from Bakugou’s eyes, Todoroki places his foot on the hilt and kicks it away, sending it skittering across the ancient tile floor and far enough away that Bakugou wouldn’t have time to retrieve it if Todoroki decided to make an escape. 

It takes a moment after, but Todoroki removes the blade from Bakugou’s throat, rolls his wrist around and back to sheathe the sword effortlessly over his shoulder. Its partner is still missing, lost somewhere in the darkness of the armory, but Bakugou will be damned if he lets Todoroki leave with it. 

Once the sword is put away, Bakugou relaxes, but not by much. He drew his weapon because Todoroki was beating him hand-to-hand, and he won’t make the mistake of thinking Todoroki’s fists aren’t as deadly as his swords. 

He can finally breathe, though, drawing in a shuddering breath. But to a man as apprehensive as Todoroki is at this moment, even that is taken as a threat. Before the exhale, Todoroki’s hand is on Bakugou’s throat, keeping him still and flush against the wall. The salty sweat of his palm is seeping into Bakugou’s cut, making it sting, smearing the blood on his skin.

They’re close. Pressed up against each other, Bakugou can feel the harsh ebb and flow of Todoroki’s chest as he breathes, the heat of his body through layers of fabric. He can feel Todoroki’s rapid heartbeat against his own chest. Still, Bakugou doesn’t move. 

Todoroki leans forward and presses his forehead against Bakugou’s. He slides his hand up from Bakugou’s throat to cup his cheek in a rough palm, thumb rubbing against the man’s bottom lip. He closes his eyes and breathes, and then Bakugou feels him retreating, the space between their bodies growing. 

Bakugou grabs him by the front of his shirt before he can get too far and pulls him forward, pressing his mouth against the other man’s in a hard kiss. Todoroki gasps, caught off guard, but quickly recovers. His lips begin to move against Bakugou’s with little hesitation, a practiced familiarity laced into every movement. 

For Bakugou, the kiss is more desperate than anything. Inelegant. But Bakugou doesn’t care about it feeling good. He just wants Todoroki to feel something. And he must, because his hands move to Bakugou’s hair, gripping the strands tight in his fist, as he deepens the kiss. 

Bakugou keeps his hands clenched in the front of the man’s shirt, holding him closely, confident enough now to touch his tongue to Todoroki’s lips. When Todoroki returns in kind, Bakugou makes a sound - small and pitiful - miserable enough to startle him.

“Katsuki --”

He moves to take Todoroki’s jaw in his palms, brings him forward again and doesn’t let him go. He bites the man’s lips, his chin, his throat. Todoroki, barely taller, pulls Bakugou’s hair to tilt his head back, sucks a bruise into the side of his neck as he slots a thigh between Bakugou’s legs.

Bakugou squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his jaw to keep from calling out. He arches his back, presses his shoulder blades against the wall to tilt his hips forward and put more pressure on Todoroki’s thigh. 

Todoroki grinds against him for good measure, and only moves away to get his fingers on the ties of Bakugou’s pants and slide them down his legs. When they’re out of his way, Todoroki grabs Bakugou by his bare hips, fingernails digging into the warm and sweat-slick skin. He closes the distance again, molding himself against Bakugou’s half-nude body. 

“Shouto –” Bakugou breathes, and he’s shaking his head, willing him to stay after all of this. He would forget about this night, if Todoroki would turn back, if he would forget about the sword. They could pretend like it was just a bad dream and awake the next morning in a world where Todoroki didn’t betray him and his entire clan. They could – 

“WHO’S IN THERE?”

A voice outside the armory startles them both, and Todoroki jumps back before Bakugou has the chance to grab him. Bakugou moves forward to stop the other man’s retreat but is caught up in the pants wrapped up around his ankles. He stumbles and falters, giving Todoroki enough time to claim the Sword of Destiny and disappear into the night.

x picture credit: ig @shirogane_sama x

[ladyartemisia28]

Say Amen(Chapter 5)

Chapter 5/?

Pairings: Prinxiety, side Logicality, Platonic Moxiety, Platonic/Family Logince, Platonic Royality.

Warnings: Cursing, mention of emotional abuse, unsympathetic Janus,

Words:4753

Summary: Sanders Sides Human College AU ~

Patton was sitting on his bed reading his history textbook when he heard a loud thud outside the door.

He opened the door to see Virgil bags on all of his body. It appeared that he had been knocking on the door with a boot clad foot.

Patton held the door open for his friend.

“Whoa, how'd you get all these bags onto the bus?!”

Patton took the bag of bagels from Virgil's mouth so he would have the ability to respond.

“I didn't take the bus” Virgil shuffled in and carefully placed all the bags onto the floor.

“Then... how?”

“Roman took me to the store.” the right side of his mouth lifting in a grimace. Virgil knew his best friend well enough that he to know that he would make a big deal about it.

“AWWWW! That's so cute!” Patton grinned widely as he helped Virgil put away their food. “And domestic! That's so great!!!”

“no it's not really not” he said with the sour look still on his face

“What's wrong Shadowling?” he asked his smile dropped from his face.

“I don't know if I'm going to be able to be able to survive being partners with him.”

“Did he say something? Did he do something?! I will physically fight him!” Patton offered as grabbed single bagel from the bag. He then placed the bag of bagels in a basket on top of the fridge

“Patton No! He didn't do anything like that!” Virgil said frantically as he motioned with his hands to stop. The last thing that he needed was Roman to lose teeth or have his pretty nose broken. “Please don't fight him!”

Patton place the lone bagel on his bed next to his book before returning to help Virgil with the remaining bags.

“Well that's good.” he said as he took the tub of margarine and put it into the fridge.

“He didn't even bring up what happened last night.” he said with a small touch of sadness in his voice.

“But you wanted him to?”

“No?” he said more of a question then a statement

“You shouldn't lie”

“Maybe,” he bit at his thumbnail as he spoke. “Like I want to know what he wants?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he did me a favor, well favors at this point. The... ... thing at the party, the cleaning of my old hoodie, and then the grocery store trip. He's racking up a ton of things in his I.O.U. List.”

“Well he might be doing things for you because of his feelings for you.”

Virgil went to argue and was interrupted before he could start.

“You said yourself, he asked you to go to the party as date. You say no, but you end up together anyway!”

Virgil rolled his eyes with a small grin. He could practically see the anime stars in Patton's eyes.

“Like the universe was pulling you two together! He probably likes you even more.”

As Virgil finished his placement of grocery items in the small kitchen nook he turned to look at his bubbly roommate.

“No that can't be it. It has to be some sort of game.” Virgil replied to his friend's joyful rant.

“I think he just likes you.”

“Ha! I TRIED to flirt with him and... well he didn't take me up on it. He must of found someone else that he was interested in. You saw him at that party, with all those guys. ....” Virgil muttered his words lowering in volume and tone as he continued.

”Oh speaking of flirts, guess who I saw at the library today?” Virgil said in a louder happy to move onto a more positive topic.

“Don't try to change the subject!” he said as he climb upon his bed.

After a moment Patton's curiosity won out.

“Who did you see?”

“Remy”

“OH! ” Patton said with an excited clap of hands. “I LOVE that little Lambkins! How is he doing?”

“He continues to be the sassiest of asses, but he seems to be doing good. He was happy to hear that I'm not longer attached to YOU KNOW WHO....

“Yeah well.”

Virgil placed his bag on his bed and then he climbed on top of it.

“He kept sending pics of Roman that he found on Instagram. Like 'I don't need you to show me what he looks like! I'm right next to him in the meat section!'”

“Is that a euphemism?” Patton asked with a puppy-like head tilt.

“NO!” Virgil exclaimed in horror as he settled himself into a sitting position.

“Sorry, you know I don't know slang lingo stuff.”

He went to grab his headphones from his bag and paused as a he recalled a memory.

“Hey Pat.”

“Hmmm?”

“Your crush from History Class that you always say is so smart and handsome. The one that you told me and I quote has the most amazing eyes that have ever existed,” he rolled his eyes as he finger quoted.

Virgil may have been outwardly mocking Patton's description of this guy's eyes. But he could almost be accused of the same sort of sappiness.

He remembered one moment at the library when he caught himself looking at Roman when he was distractedly staring off into space.

Virgil was going to ask him to come back to earth but he was caught off guard by the way that the light had made his eyes look. Roman's eyes looked like a tiger's eye gemstone. A shifting series of browns.

' I never thought I'd be this big of a lameass. If anyone heard what I thought they would laugh at me.'

He shook his head at the memory and continued his conversation with his roommate

“This guy his name is Logan right?”

Patton's naturally rosy freckled face flushed with even more color and he just nodded in response.

“Does his last name happen to be Sanderson?” Virgil asked as he pleaded internally that his assumption was wrong.

“Yeah! It is! Patton answered. “Just the sisters from Hocus Pocus.”

Patton continued his words uninterrupted as Virgil fell backwards onto his bed.

“When I mentioned that to him he said the cutest thing! ” Patton said excitedly before he quoted Logan taking his glasses and adjusting them like an anime character as he did so. “'Ah yes, the Halloween cult classic yes, my younger brother is a fan of that, uh film.'"

“Cute, sure.” he muttered in mildly sarcastic tone. To Virgil's ear he would call the voice that Patton used to imitate him robot in tone. “I didn't...”

“What?”

“Take that for your type. He sounds a bit of a more serious no nonsense type. Like he wouldn't be that fun?”

Virgil threw an arm across his face to obscure his eyes.

“Yeah, he may be a bit serious. But just get him to talk about his interests and his whole being lights up like a christmas lights!” Patton said with an earnest feeling behind it. “And he was just so cool in class the other day! You should have seen him passionately defend Pluto's status as a planet! ”

“So do you think I'll be meeting Mr. Christmas Lights?” Virgil chuckled as he thought to himself.

'Out of everyone that could have been Patton's crush it's stupidly ironic that he happens to be the brother of my cru- NOPE! No don't you dare think that word anywhere near him. NO ROMANTIC ROMAN ALLOWED THOUGHTS!'

“Oh you just missed meeting him at the party! He helped me look for you.”

A cold feeling of realization hit Virgil hard as he sat up quickly to look over at Patton.

“What?!” he nearly shouted as the panic flooded his body.

Patton didn't reply as his eyes widened in surprise. From his face Virgil guessed that he had not realized that the information that he had shared would cause this particular type of reaction.

Patton was usually more emotionally astute but his heart was so full of infatuation for Logan that he was distracted enough to make a mistake.

Otherwise he probably would have prefaced his words with a little more warning.

“Are you telling me that guy in the tie, that you showed up with saw me make out with his BROTHER?!”

“Yeah...” Patton said with a sheepish tiny smile. “I guess in all the excitement I forgot to mention that to you”

Virgil groaned.

“I wish I had never heard of the fake-out make out.”

He grabbed his headphones from his bag, slide them onto his ears, and pulled up a play list. Virgil looked over the list and he spotted MCR and was reminded of the moment in the car.

He smiled in spite of himself.

'I can totally see why he is so comfortable on stage. He was.... radiant?...mesmerizing?... magnetic?

...Gods I don't even have the right words in my thoughts! It's like my world was just me and Roman and the song. I haven't met anyone that captivating since... ... ... Jae'

He needed to distract himself quickly and searched it for his sketchpad.

“Hey Pat didn't you pack my sketchpad in my bag this morning?”

“I sure did, why?”

'Crap'

“So do you happen to have Logan's number?”

~

 Roman sat in one of the audience chairs while starting at monologue. His mind was not on the script at all though as he turned each page.

His thought were focused on the memory of Virgil's singing. His low rich baritone echoed faintly in his head. Roman would pay good money to have a recording of him.

He replayed his interactions with him afterwards when Virgil teased him about wanting to go back to his room.

'Oh NO! THAT WAS HIM FLIRTING!!! I should have flirted back! I love flirting! But the first day he got so angry when I flirted with him and now he's angry that I didn't!? What the Hell! Maybe since we kissed he wants more?! I gotta try really hard now!'

Roman decided focus all his of his attention on wooing Virgil.

He flipped over the paper and listed all of the things that he knew Virgil liked.

Honey Cluster Granola

Disney

Grape Gatorade

Puns

Count Chocola Cereal

The Black Cauldron

Nightmare Before Christmas

Evanescence

My Chemical Romance

While adding more to the list he was approached by the costume designer.

“Hey want to see a couple of my new sketches?” the small blue and pink haired enby asked as they offered Roman the notebook.

“Always, Talyn always.”

It was several pages of people in a different costumes. Talyn's style naturally leaned tended towards Punk, Goth, and other Alternative type styles.

Roman looked through the black and maroon velvet cloaks, Victorian satiny waistcoats, leather pants, and other accessories.

'Am I just that Twitterpated with Virgil to see him everywhere?! I mean let's not kid around he would look sexy in this clothing. '

“Great work TallyKat.” Roman croaked out.

Talyn squinted suspiciously until they saw Joan approach.

“What we looking at?” Joan asked as they sat next to Roman and leaned over to look at the drawings. Roman handed off the sketchbook to them.

“So how did that party go last night?” Joan asked as they thumbed through the pages.

“Remember Virgil?” Roman directed the question toward Joan nodded before they turned to Talyn to clarify.

“He's Prince's partner in Med. Lit.”

“Virgil...Virgil Alexander? ” Talyn asked as they retrieved their sketch pad, their face brightening up with recognition,“You know Anx?”

“Another person called him that in the library today, he wouldn't tell me what it was from.” Roman

“OH it's an old joke from high school.” Talyn continued. “Well sometimes one of us wanted to do stupid things. Like drive donuts in an empty parking lot or eat a mouthful of warhead candies,Virgil would be the one to tell us why it was dangerous. We said he was all of our collective anxiety in human form.”

Roman filled that information away for later.

“So as you were saying...” Joan asked gesturing to Roman.

“We kissed last night...” he whispered excitedly.

“Well that escalated quickly” Joan deadpanned.

“I mean... it was MEANT to throw off his ex...Kinda like in that movie 'To All the Boys I Loved Before'.”

He waited for them to nod before continuing his frantic rant. When they did not he just went ahead and proceeded.

“SPOILER ALERT! For the movie if you've never seen it. I mean you totally should it is such a good flick. I mean everyone who has ever seen a Romcom knows how it would end up anyways. Well in that movie it wasn't her Ex. It was someone that she was trying to trick. Ah! That gives me an idea! Maybe if I offer to make a contract to make his Ex Jealous! Then he could fall in love with me like Lara Jean fell for Peter!

“Don't do that.” Joan commanded in a flat tone with a shake of their head.

“Are you sure? Fake Date is such a classic!” Roman visibly pouted at the rejection of his idea.

“No” both of them said at the same time.

Roman took the list in hand and moved it about while he spoke.

“Ok well I .. I've made this list of things that I know he likes and I can just put them all into a basket! And bring it to him...”

Joan yanked the piece of paper from Roman's waving hands

“How are you going to put 'Probably the entirety of Hot Topic' into a basket exactly?” Joan sardonically asked.

“I don't know, I'll figure something out...like maybe a gift card...a dozen gift cards...what is the highest amount of money you can put on those anyway...?” he took the paper back from Joan and began to write 'Check out gift cards'

“As much as I'm sure he would love to buy out the entire stock of Hot Topic. Princey I've known Anx for years, these big old honking PDAS are going to freak him the fuck out!” Talyn said with an exhausted type of aggravation.

“You guys don't get romance!”

His two non-binary pals shared a look.

Roman ignored them and attempted to continue his frantic writing, but he was stopped in his tracks at the sound of his phone.

-It seems that Virgil had a sketchbook fall out of his bag in your car-Logan

“See this is a sign! Virgil's sketchbook was left behind in my car! This is the second time that he has left something behind for me to gallantly return to him like Prince Charming!” he motioned at his phone with his hand.

Joan took a hold of Roman by the shoulders and looked him in his eyes.

“This is NOT a SIGN. Just give the boy back his stuff without any of your Romany weirdness.”

“But...but if I don't shower him with gifts to let him know that I like him..how...how” Roman excitement deflated like a balloon. He finished the thought in his head

'How am I going to get him to to like me back'

Another chime from his phone pulled at his attention.

-He says he needs it for one of his classes. He wants to know if it is acceptable for him to send his roommate to your location or to meet somewhere in the middle?-Logan

“Well it looks like Logan says he is going to send his roommate out to grab it for him” Roman said as he visibly wilts as he replies that they can meet in the quad.

“I'm sure he knows that you like him. You've always been...wait a sec, you said LOGAN texted you?”

“Yeah why?”

“Shit, are you telling us that you never gave this guy...the guy you're so clearly into...your PHONE NUMBER?!?” Joan asked disbelief increasing with every word.

After a noticeable moment of silence, Roman found his voice.

“oh, i guess I didn't.”

“You are a hopeless idiot here, dude” Talyn added with a head shake.

~

 Roman got done with his drama club and hurried to his car. To his horror he saw the sketchbook had fallen open and varies pages were strewn about.

“NO, No, no, no!”

He was torn between the impulse to grab them quickly without looking to be quick and also to preserve privacy.

But the other part of him that knew that these pages deserved respect and care won the internal argument.

Plus admittedly he really wanted to snoop through the artwork.

So he looked over the art as took page by page and gathered them tenderly.

A few charcoal sketches of local abandoned buildings with gorgeous use of shadows.

Roman's jealousy perked at an unnerving page filled with disembodied hands reaching for the viewer.

He rolled his eyes as he found a page with a picture of Mothman, Slenderman, and an assortment of other cryptids.

'Of course he's into this weird stuff...

His eyes lit up as he saw accurate recreations of the Avatar: The Last Airbender and Steven Universe Cartoon characters, with a sticky note near them saying 'For Emile'.

“Who's Emile?” Roman muttered with a pout.

After he placed the last of the loose pages to a sort of order in the book he closed it. He looked over the cover that had a few more drawings on it as well as stickers for bands.

Roman hugged to his chest and then he ran as quick as his legs could carry him to the quid. He arrived only a slight bit out of breath.

'Man i need to get back to my morning running sessions. If I don't get my endurance up my dancing will suffer.'

He looked around at the area to search out for his target.

A boy sat at a bench, he wore a patterned pastel blue overalls over a pastel purple shirt. As Roman neared him he saw the the shapes were ice cream, hearts, and rainbows.

“Hey?” he approached the boy he hoped was the roommate. “Pat... ton?”

His face was semi-familiar. His big blue eyes were a softer grayish hue than Virgil's deep piercing blue. His smiling face was covered in freckles. Roman wondered how he would describe the color of his puffy hair, it was either a pale brown or a dark blond.

"Yep! So you are my Virgil's new 'friend' huh?!" his cheerful voice asked with the word friend is a tease like giggly way.

“Uh, I hope so?” Roman replied nervously.

“Patton Hartley!” he offered his hand.

“Roman Sanderson, pleased to meet you.” he said as he shuffled the notebook to one arm to shake his hand.

“I really like the pastel getup.” he said with the most genuine tone. He wanted to make sure that he made a good impression on a person who was so important to Virgil.

Even the world's most Emotastic basket wouldn't mean a thing if this boy went to his roommate and said Roman was no good. Patton was the biggest deciding factor, besides Virgil himself, in his ultimate fate.

'Please like me please.'

“Thanks so much! I love your hair! I don't think I could pull it off. I tried a teal a few years ago” Patton said as he looked up to his hair. His gentle smile told Roman that he was not insecure, he just was speaking with he thought was the truth.

“Thank as well. I personally think everyone can 'pull off' fashion colors. It's just finding the color that suits you and wearing it with confidence. And not using a box dye. I think pastel pink would look fantastic on you.” Roman offered as advice before he remembered the object in his hands.

He held the sketchbook out with both hands. “OH here you go, this is what you came all the way out here for!”

“Looks like everything is order.” Patton said as he quickly thumbed through the pages before he put it into a florescent green plastic backpack.

It looked like a giant frog.

'How did I not notice that!'

“So was Virgil busy?” Roman asked casual,before he quickly amended “Not that I'm not happy to meet you of course!”

“AH, I packed his bag this morning so I feel like I'm a bit responsible for this happening.”

“How could you know this would happen?” Roman shrugged.

“Well I didn't. But in a roundabout way it could have been prevented if I hadn't have packed it today. Besides I really really wanted to meet you.

“You did?”

“Wanna take a seat?” Patton offered politely as he placed the froggie at his feet to clear the seat next to him.

“Yeah thanks.” Roman said as he sat down.

“Hey can I ask you a question? I hope you don't feel like this is an insult towards Virgil. But what is his deal?” he asked in part aggravation and part confusion.

“Ah, you talking about how he's not the friendliest kitten in the clowder? ” Patton offered as a comparison. “At least when you began court him?

'He said court! I really like this guy.'

“Yeah, That! We were getting along fine, maybe a BIT of playful banter, but at worse it that was just light teasing. But it changed like a switch was flipped or something when I asked if he wanted to go to that party with me.” Roman asked face pinched as he remembered Virgil's change in demeanour. “All of a sudden it was as if I had asked if he wanted to be set on fire!”

“Well, he really thinks you're flirting with him as some sort of game” Patton said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Why would he think that! ”

“I'm not really sure what would make him think of that in class, I wasn't there. But you seemed to be flirting with quite a few guys at the party.” Patton stated with a sigh “Aaaannnd he did see that...”

A blush grew over Roman's tan skin as he remembered his brief playful trifling.

'Virgil was watching that? Yikes, no wonder he thinks so lowly of me. I would never have done all of that if he had accepted my date offer. I am a One Man Man.'

“And... the other thing is, it may have reminded him of his Ex...um you see Jae, he was always flirting with everyone around him. Mostly to charm people to get them on his side, but it hurt Virgil you see. He would ask him to stop, but Jae either ignore him to tell him he was being too emotionally fragile.”

Patton took breath and then continued.

“But then when it seemed like Virgil was close to ending it he would stop his flirtations with others and focus all of his attention on Virgil. They almost broke up dozens of times over the course of their time together. The whole back and forth really made it hard on Virgil.”

“SO this Ex of his toyed with his affections! How dare he tell Virgil he cared too much! I can't believe it!”

“That is some manipulative bull! I swear people who string others along instead of just letting them go are the worst. I've had a few exs like that.”

Patton nodded..

“That Ex! Sounds like a real piece of work, ” Roman chuckled a tiny bit as he failed to notice the uncomfortable look beginning to show on Patton's face, “If Virgil's was so frightened that the sight of him made him flee. Like he MUST be some stupid dirty, rotten, filthy silly billy, no good for nothing...”

“Uh,” Patton attempted to break into the rant.

“Rat scoundrel b-”

“He's my brother!” Patton hastily shouted.

'Oh Shit'

Roman cringed as Patton admitted the full truth of the situation.

“Wait what? I'm so sorry!”

“It's ok. You didn't mean to be mean.” Patton said

“Wait so how does that work? You're friends with your brothers ex? ”

“Nothing will stop me from being friends with Virgil. Nothing.” Patton stated as serious as Roman had seen him so far.

“Wow, um must make Thanksgiving Dinner's more awkward than normal, huh?” Roman chuckled nervously.

“Jae doesn't believe in Thanksgiving. He says that 'Thanksgiving is colonizer propaganda that is just a waste of food.' He doesn't really do holidays... besides birthdays. Well actually he does HIS birthday, and sometimes mine. If only a little bit. His plans for Virgil's birthday always ended up getting cancelled.”

“'So sorry my Nightbird, I swear I thought the museum would be open today'” he did a mock of what Roman presumed was his brother. While doing so his voice gained a sort of smoother quality of speaking. A bit more emphasis of the S sounds.

'Sounds like a snake'

“Sounds like a...like he's very unique person” Roman offered as a neutral statement. “And a very complicated relationship.”

“It sure is....SO are you really truly interested in my pal?” Patton asked.

“Yes. I absolutely am.” Roman said with an excitement that he apparently had made a good impression.

“Just call me Cupid!” Patton said as he did a big hand gesture pointing toward his chest with his thumb “I'll put in a good word for you.”

“I can tell you're really a sweet guy, but still why do this for someone you just met?” Roman questioned face full of confusion.

“I think you'd be a good HONEST boyfriend for my gloomy goober.” Patton smiled at him, “I'm a great judge of character, I've had to learn believe you me. Plus don't let him know it was me that told you this, but the way he looks when he talks about you... well it's just like nothing I've ever seen. I really think he's got a thing for you!”

“Really?” Roman felt uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“Yeppers, I know my best friend” Patton giggled like they had made a secret pact.

“Thanks”

“Although if my instincts are wrong, I will physically fight you.” Patton suddenly said in a serious tone.

“Really?”

“Yep! If I could fight my own brother, I can fight you” Patton said switching back to cheerful. “Understand?”

The way that he said it so matter of fact and cheerfully made Roman uneasy, almost like those haunted dolls in scary movies. The opposition between his soft disposition and the protective strength in his voice was just scary enough that Roman just nodded

“GOOD!” he clapped his hands and then leap up off of the seat. “I know your Instagram and I'll DM you there to trade info.”

“How do you...?” Roman got momentarily frightened at the thought that Patton had cyber stalked him for his social media info.

“You shouted it out at the party?” Patton smiled as he slung the straps of over his shoulders.

“Oh right...ha” Roman gave a nervous chuckle.

“Well, I've got to go now! Tell your brother that Patton says hi, k? ” he said with a wink he walked away until the bouncing frog disappeared from Roman's line of sight.

 ~

 Upon Roman's arrived at home he restlessly waited for his brother's arrival.

When he heard a turn of keys at the front door he was there as fast as a bolt of lightning.

“You know Virgil's roommate!” Roman shouted as he ambushed Logan as he walked through the door.

“Oh Shit!” Logan cursed as he fell over.

 ~

Chapter 4

~ TAGLIST!!! @tatehoseok @love-is-the-fear-of-loss @misslilidelaney @ishoulddyemyhairthatcolour @dwbh888 @violetshovel @sadgayisme

[khicken121]

Overwatch: Baihu x Zhuque AU Pt 1 (Gency)

Psst…

Psssssstt….

@l-avieja…

It’s done...!

Well, the first part of three is

Summary: The Rejects have escaped their prison. Zhuque and Baihu can only hold them off for so long.

Characters: Genji Shimada, Angela “Mercy” Ziegler, Too many to list (mostly everyone else)

Warnings: Semi-Graphic Violence

Other Tags: Baihu!Genji, Zhuque!Mercy, Oni!Genji, Fantasy Setting (Kinda? idk), Gods and Goddesses, author’s attempt at a slow-burn romance

-----

That day in the heavens was like any other in its existence. The gods were going about their routine duties. The sky was clear over the clouds. Nothing in the mortal world was out of the ordinary. It didn’t occur to the gods that that was the problem until it was too late.

Far too late…

Yes, they always kept a close eye on the human world, however that’s all they paid attention to besides themselves and each other. The Rejected Ones were banished to the void and left as they were meant to be. Forgotten. Along with the other creations that eventually proved themselves to be nothing more than mistakes. A blink of an eye to the inhabitants of the cold and pitch-black world would be centuries to those still living in leisure, under the warmth of the sun and above the chill of the clouds.

When centuries passed for those in the void, many new gods had arisen in the heavens. While the Celestials could not see the Rejected Ones nor the greatly less favorable place they were forced to call home, the Rejected Ones could certainly see them. It’s been too long since they’ve had that luxury, and while the demons were supposedly bound to the hellhole for eternity, there were always loopholes in magic and contracts.

When they pushed through the weak spot, their chance had finally arrived. And they’d be completely and utterly stupid not to take this opportunity.

-----

The Baihu was considered a wise god by his worshippers, but everyone in the heavens with him was well aware of his youth and reputation. Although he was capable of giving genuine love, few gods accepted that truth, as the reputation behind him wasn’t a completely virtuous one. He used to be proud of having multiple mortal lovers over the many centuries he’s been alive. He didn’t even have a true friend until The Zhuque came into existence in the plane. Friendship budded between she and he almost immediately, as she was unaware of his frequent rendezvous to the mortal realm. As his friendship with her grew, he left that life behind him. He found himself wanting it less and less, at first he thought he was only doing it for himself. Eventually, he came to realize that he wanted less because his desire to devote himself to The Zhuque was stronger.

He only wished that she could look beyond his past. Perhaps then she’d be able to return his feelings in the same way.

As time passed for them, he grew bold enough to subtly begin to advance on her, but also leaving plenty of room for her to back out should she not want to be anything more than friends. As luck would have it, she was perfectly content being friends with him. Sometimes she found amusement in teasing him in a similar manner. It wasn’t very often she’d retort with a flirt of her own, but when she did, it was when he least expected it and was caught very off guard. She’d inwardly chuckle at light pink decorating his cheeks that was heavily contrasted against his pale skin and white hair.

-----

They broke through.

The loose seam in the spell that kept them bound to that dark, lifeless void was finally torn, and they were finally free. They emerged from the gaping crevice in the earth that led them to the surface and continued upwards. They didn’t even stop when they reached the heavens. When they arrived, the battle had just begun.

They gave no warning of their arrival, and the only trace they left were the fallen physical forms of the adolescent and elderly gods that guarded the entrance of the celestial realm. The young gods fought their hardest with all the physical, mental and magical power they possessed. However, the weapons they were armed with were no match for the far more advanced ones the demons crafted during their time locked away. Small, lethal projectiles, faster than what could be seen with unaided eyes, ripped right through their bodies faster than they could heal themselves. The magic they bled dripped into the mortal world below them: dormant, powerless, and not of any use to the beings currently invading what was once their home.

It didn’t take long for the bloodshed to catch attention of the four constellations. They swiftly came to the aid of their fellow and fallen gods and goddesses, and the demons finally had challengers worthy of their levels of power. Qinglong and Xuanwu used their physical strength to hold of the small army of invaders while Baihu and Zhuque scouted and healed as many fallen warriors as they could. Within minutes, they had some of their army back in the fight, but the combined powers of the Azure Dragon and Black Tortoise were overpowered by the Rejects.

With every Constellation that fell from the sky, the invaders also stole the relic that granted them the amount of power they had. Qinglong’s helmet and Xuanwu’s armor that granted the wearers to summon storms of imminent destruction to gods and mortals, and the ability to bring scattered targets together respectively. Their next targets were Zhuque’s staff and Baihu’s sword which could penetrate any surface. However, when they approached the domain of the last two constellations, all they encountered were more gods that were wiped out previously, all of whom being led by a colossal white tiger with eyes of ice and a phoenix with a wingspan stretching over a meter in lengths and feathers aflame.

The Rejects sneered. The small army was no match for them, and if they could wipe out a seventy foot dragon and ten foot snake, an oversized cat and bird wouldn’t be difficult either.

The last of the two constellations certainly gave them a challenge most worthy.

The tiger’s claws left deep gashes within the physical bodies of the demons, and  her talons did similar damage; in addition to the raining streaks of fire on top of them, having no effect on her allies. With Baihu’s and Zhuque’s leadership, the other gods following them proved to be much tougher to kill. However, the small army’s lack of a plan became more and more obvious to their enemy, and this was quickly being taken advantage of. More and more of them were being killed a second time and even Baihu and Zhuque were having a tough time maintaining their animal forms.

Baihu’s patience was wearing thin. He was tired of deflecting bullets and seeing fragments of Zhuque’s feathers falling down and having little to no effect on the… monsters in front of him that seemed to be unaffected by her attacks. He was told too many times in his life that he shouldn’t be rash and impulsive, especially when it came to battle. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to care about all the warnings he received. He always went with his instincts in the past and they always carried him along just fine. And when she was too weak to maintain her phoenix form and fell onto the floor of the heavens in a flurry of  her own screams, fire and soft feathers; they were screaming at him to go for the kill!

He let out a deafening roar that thundered across all planes of the world around and below them. With silent, swift steps and bared teeth, he lunged towards the looming black and red figure that was responsible for her injuries. Claws extended, he ripped into the armor on his face and chest. He felt triumphant as he watched black liquid oozing from the gashes he created, but it was quickly extinguished as more screams fell from Zhuque’s throat. Her backless dress no longer had a purpose for exposing so much skin. Where her wings once were were replaced by fountains of crimson blood spilling over her exposed spine and being absorbed into her clothes. The only thing that kept her alive was the all too familiar beam emanating from her staff. Only now, the beam was a combination of violet and gold, equally giving as much life as was being stolen, and her pain was only worsening being on the receiving end of dark magic being channeled through her relic. The wings were flapping in protest to the grip that was held on them. They wanted to reattach to her body, but the heterochromatic demon with slender fingers refused to let them go. The deeper she dug her long nails into the flesh of the massive bird-like wings, the more Zhuque cried in pain and the more sinister her smile became.

He didn’t react fast enough. As soon as he turned around with the intention of getting her wings free, three small holes bore themselves into his own back and began eating away at his flesh. Nonetheless, he refused to fall. He drew his sword and deflected the next round of projectiles that fired from the handheld weapons of the black and red armor clad figure he faced. But as his moves became faster, they also grew less controlled, which allowed five more darkening spots to occur along his body.

The woman that held Zhuque’s staff and kept the goddess’ wings pinned held a smile with dangerous eyes as she watched Baihu fall to his knees then down on his stomach. The beam flowing from the staff ceased, and Zhuque was slowly losing consciousness as the seconds passed.

“Baihu…” she barely managed to mutter when she glimpsed his limp body a few feet away.

“Kill her,” the female demon ordered her armored companion.

“And what about him?” he replied with a chilling rasp.

“He’ll be a very… interesting experiment,” she answered. “Leave him, but throw the other’s to earth. It’s time they finally knew what they’ve put us through for all those centuries.”

He said nothing in reply. The last thing Zhuque saw was his weapon aimed right at her neck before all that flooded her sight was darkness.

[dre--scape]

First Impressions (Stephen Strange x reader)

THIS TOOK REALLY REALLY LONG AND IM SO SORRY ANON I REALLY DO HOPE YOU LIKE IT 

also it was benefizzle cabbagepatch’s birthday yesterday and this is a late dedication to him and anon too.

Disclaimer: Apparently the reader in this has almost the same power as the one that imarvelatthesight wrote but I swear that’s about the only similarity our stories have. However, the reader here can only emit a strong heat without the flame. 

Pairing: Stephen Strange x reader

Word count: 1877 

Request by anon: Could you do a Doctor Strange x Mutant! Reader where they get introduced to strange by tony at the compound but doesn’t think he likes them since they got off on the wrong foot, it could end with strange apologizing or the reader. Thank you if you can 💞

Summary: ^^^

I also accept requests!

Warnings: very, very, VERY brief implications of sex

Your lungs burned as held your breath as you cut through the water. You couldn’t see it nor feel it, but you were certain that the water around you was boiling.

All of a sudden, Rhodey’s voice rang through the receiver in your ear. “That’s good for today, (Y/N/N).”

You finally let your head break the surface of the water, ceasing all movement and letting your body float to the top. Your gaze fell to the disfigured mannequins that were placed in the water (they were fine when they first placed them in). You managed to control your breathing as you closed your eyes, feeling the water as if it tried to massage your muscles.

The door to the pool opened, but you couldn’t bother to move at all - you were too tired.

“You should control that soon,” A familiar man’s voice rang out. “I wouldn’t have to hire some guy to fix my hot tub.” You rolled your eyes from under your lids and reluctantly rolled onto your stomach, your muscles screaming at you to stop all movement. You opened your eyes and saw Tony standing at the edge of the pool with a strange -but admittedly attractive- stranger.

You swam to the ledge closest to them and pulled yourself out with a groan. You quickly took the place right beside the billionaire as you both faced the other man with a goatee.

Tony watched as you eyed Strange wearily, already knowing your thought process. Quickly wanting to cool you down -both physically and mentally- ,he spoke up.

“(Y/N), this is-”

Stephen’s hand shot out from his jacket’s pocket as he gave you a charming smile. “Doctor Strange.” Your eyebrows raised and he chuckled. “I could also go by Stephen Strange.” You didn’t even need to run laps to get your heart racing. You could just listen to his voice.

But before you were about to reciprocate his handshake, your mind went completely stranger mode and you paused. You held Tony’s hand for a brief moment to test your body temperature, and the hiss and flinch of pain gave you your answer.

You glanced down wearily at the doctor’s outstretched hand, unconsciously tracing the surgical scars that lined them. You then subtly glanced at your hands, giving them a slight grimace before coolly folding your arms to your chest.

It was only etiquette that you return the polite gesture, but you couldn’t risk damaging his hands any more than they were now. Instead, you looked up at him, shooting him a bright and warm, welcoming smile. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You introduced yourself and watched as Stephen hastily shoved his hand back in his pocket. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Tony.” You heard Tony muttering about giving you extra swimming laps and grinned.

“Welcome to the compound, Mr. Strange.”

“Morning-” You began just as you walked into the kitchen but Stephen just brushed past you, not even bothering to mumble a ‘hello’. “Stephen…” You watched as the door behind him closed and huffed, obviously thrown off by the instant grumpiness in the morning.

You instantly made eye contact with Wanda as you walked towards the fridge, looking for something to eat.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” You joked, trying to pick-up the slightly lowered mood. “Did you do something about his hands?” Wanda asked and you turned around, a curious look on your face.

“His hands?” You thought back to the sharp cheekbones and charming smile that had you head-over-heels for the former neurosurgeon. “My dreams did.” You muttered and you felt a blush creeping up your neck, recalling the mature dream.

Wanda’s laugh reverberated throughout the kitchen and you shook your head. “I-It was a d-dream.” You sputtered, eyes wide with panic. “You weren’t even supposed to hear that!”

She waved you off, coming down from her laughing high. “No, no, you’re fine.” Wanda giggled, placing a hand on her heaving chest. “I just heard he was very self-conscious about his hands.” Your lips parted in surprise and you suddenly lost your appetite.

“The scars, right?” You asked, walking away from the fridge and towards Wanda. She nodded and placed her elbows on the counter. “Tony said you grimaced.”

The scene of that day replayed in your head as you groaned. “I wasn’t grimacing at him.” You said, letting out a sigh. “I was grimacing because I couldn’t return his handshake.” You explained and Wanda smiled softly, placing a hand on yours. “You can apologize later when you see him again.” You nodded in agreement and smiled. “I guess I can.”

It had been a week and you still haven’t apologized to Stephen. In your defense, he was avoiding you like a plague instead of being mellow about it. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t exactly get a hold of your powers yet.

“Now I’m not sure if I want to apologize at this point!” You exclaimed whilst pacing around your room.

Tony was on your bed, arms spread wide as he lied down. “I think your bed is more comfortable than mine.” He said suddenly and you turned to him with a sour look. “I’m telling you my problems about a man you brought to the compound and all you can think about is my bed?” You asked, actually astonished by his lack of listening abilities.

“You’re unbelievable.” Scoffing as you walked towards your bed, you plopped yourself beside Tony. “You brought him here,” You pointed out. “Tell me how I can fix this.”

The man got up from his lying position and turned to face you. “I don’t need to because you’re training with him today.” Your eyes widened with the information. “And I’m only knowing this now?” You questioned, having the urge to burn him right then and there.

“I should really start wearing protective gear when I come in here.” Your gaze narrowed and Tony laughed, standing up. “Calm yourself, tiger.” He chuckled, noticing your intense glare. “Otherwise you might burn through those clothes now, and you know how hard it is to get materials that can actually withstand the heat of a supernova.” You rolled your eyes and fell back onto your bed.

“Peter’s growing on you, Stark.” You commented with a laugh and you heard him sigh. “Supernova’s a fancy word.” He copied your laugh mockingly before leaving the room.

“You didn’t even defend yourself, nerd!”

You got in a fighting position which was a simple orthodox stance.

Stephen watched as your eyes narrowed, losing all kinds of playfulness you had just moments earlier. You seemed so focused, it was a shame no one warned you about his abilities.

You were slightly ticked off by the relaxed stance Stephen had. It was like he wasn’t even trying to protect himself with nothing but his magic shields. But you were able to analyze his weak and open points from where you were, so you weren’t all mad.

“Are you guys going to start fighting or have an intense makeout session?” Tony asked through the intercom. As soon as Stephen rolled his eyes, you threw your right fist and hit Stephen square in the chest. He fell back and landed with a thud and a groan of pain.

You looked down at his odd choice of clothing but thanked him mentally as you saw an imprint of your fist.

“That wasn’t too hard was it?” You asked worriedly as he sat upright. “No, it was fine.” You watched as he raised his hands in front of him and started making circles with his right hand.

“What are you-” The sound of crackling caught you off-guard as you looked at your feet, orange sparks in the form of a circle surrounding you. “You-”

The ground beneath your feet disappeared and a scream ripped from your throat.

“I was falling for fifteen minutes, Tony!” Stephen watched as you yelled at Tony instead of him.

“It was hilarious, (Y/N)!” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I could hear your laughter through the intercoms.” Stephen’s lips curved into a grin as he left, the sound of you and Tony bickering echoing throughout the training room.

A small wave of nervousness washed over you as you managed to make eye contact with Stephen. “Strange!”

But as soon as you spoke up, he immediately ducked into a room. “Wait!” You let out a frustrated groan as you ran up to the door and quickly opened it.

“Mr. Strange!” You roared as you bust into his room.

He looked up from his book with an irked expression. “Doctor Strange.” He corrected you before turning back to the item in his hands. “And what are you doing in here? It’s my room.”

You rolled your eyes before slamming the door shut. “I’m here to apologize, if you haven’t noticed.” You replied, crossing your arms sharply. “But you’ve been avoiding me for the past two weeks!”

“Well, I’m sorry that my hands are not to your taste.” He shot back, his tone of voice obviously showing irritation with your presence. “I couldn’t stop them from destroying my hands, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

You sneered at his comment and glared at Stephen, who -at the moment- seemed indifferent to the situation. “Okay, yeah!” You finally yelled. “I grimaced when I first met you, but I wasn’t grimacing at you!” The words seemed to spill out of your mouth as you paced around Stephen’s room. “I was grimacing because I could’ve burned your hands! That’s a far worse first impression!”

As you started rambling, Stephen looked up from his book, a small smile gracing his lips. “I didn’t want to harm you! And I certainly didn’t want your hot…” You stumbled upon your words as you thought of all the attributes the doctor had. “Everything avoiding me for the rest of my life!” You felt your face flush as you looked up at the wizard, not even realising what slipped out of your mouth.

“I-” Stephen began but you soon spoke up again. “In two weeks I don’t know who was more of the child! Me, by not saying sorry sooner, or you by avoiding me!” You took a deep breath before letting Stephen speak.

“I know.” He mumbled before you shot him a inquisitive glance. “To what? Me burning you or you being a child?” He let out a ghost of a chuckle as he shook his head. “The latter.” You rolled your eyes and sighed, crossing your arms instead of letting them fall to the side. “I’d hope so.”

A moment of silence rested between you two and Stephen got up from his spot on the bed. “I’m sorry.” He whispered as he walked over to you. You pushed your lower lip out in a pout and huffed. “I’m sorry too.” Stephen laughed and he was certain your temperature went down a bit. “And you think I’m the child?” He asked and you stuck your tongue out immaturely as he pulled you into a hug.

A comfortable lull fell over the room before he spoke up, a smug grin on his face.

“You think I’m hot?”

[modernshakespearean]

TMNT: Bad Blood Ch 4

Venus

           Casey, April, and I were trotting through the forest path towards the direction of my castle. My thoughts kept drifting towards Leo as urged my horse forward down the path.

           “What was that back there?” Casey asked me.

           “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said as I urged my horse to go slightly faster.  

           “Don’t give me that. You’ve been dreading the selection for weeks and then suddenly because you see a handsome prince, that you know nothing about by the way, you’re singing a different tune.”

           “I am not!” I argued back at him.

           Casey raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “Oh really? You’re not thinking about a certain blue-eyed prince. Ever since we met them you haven’t stopped smiling or blushing.” April put in looking smug.

           “Is me smiling really that big of a deal?” I defended knowing that a blush was rising to my face because of their teasing.

           “It’s not. It’s just that…Vee, Casey’s right.” She said as if it pained her to admit that Casey had was right about something.

           “Casey Jones is always right.” Casey remarked. April and I both ignored him.

           “You don’t know anything about Leo. This is the first time you’ve met a handsome prince before. You shouldn’t get too attached.” April said riding next to me so that she could give me a quick one arm hug.

“We don’t want you to get hurt. You heard how he felt about the princess, you.” He said pointing at my chest. “He was insulting you before he even met you.”

“Maybe if he got a chance to met me-the real me- then he’ll look past all the rumors and like me for me.” I said hopefully. Casey and April didn’t share my hopeful expression. “I only get one chance at this. I want to marry for love not power. I don’t want to be trapped in a marriage with someone who only sees me as a pretty face or a crown.” I said looking away mournfully.

“How are you supposed to show him the real you? He didn’t want anything to do with the princess. Besides, who knows how many men will be competing for your attention. It’s not like you’ll be able to be alone with him without someone fighting for you.” April stated sullenly afraid of my reaction.

“You’re right.” I replied dejected. “I can’t spend anytime with him without someone recognizing that I’m the princess. If only I was invisible…” I paused considering the idea.

“Uh, you okay Vee?” April asked nervously. “You only make that face when your planning something.”

“I got it!” I said excitedly startling my friends. “Come on!” I yelled as he urged Picasso to sprint as fast as he could home.

“Got what?” Casey asked confused as he surged after me.

“Guys, wait for me!” April called after us as she tried to catch up.

Finally, we reached the edge of the forest and I could see the stables in the distance. I trotted toward the stable allowing my friends to catch up to me. Once they were caught up, Picasso sprinted towards the stables. I slowed to a stop in front of Pete, the stable boy, who rushed out due to the noise.

           “Princess!” Pete exclaimed in shock and bowed deeply. “What were you doing in the forest?”

           I brushed him off and replied, “Sorry Pete, I can’t talk right now. Could you put our horses in their stalls, please.” I didn’t wait for him to answer as I headed inside the palace.

           “Vee! What’s the rush?” Casey called out while running after me with April trailing behind him.

           “Slow down.” April said panting as she raced after us.

           We made our way into the throne room and we were greeted with my father sitting on his throne. “I did not expect you to be back so soon, My Daughter.”  The King spoke surprised as he looked up from his papers.

           “I know, Father. I-” I started but was cut off when my father took in my appearance. He stood up and stalked towards me.

           “Why are you wearing a soaking wet maid outfit and a cloak?” My father questioned me. I recounted the tale of going into the forest and meeting Leo and his brothers. Dad stayed quiet until I finished my story.

           “Casey, April, I would like to have a talk alone with my daughter.” My father stated coldly to my friends. Casey and April hurried out of the room and shot me sympathetic looks as the shut the doors to the throne room leaving me alone with my father and his guards.

“You directly disobeyed and left the castle! Not only that but you weren’t even properly protected. You did not even take your katana with you. The only protection you had was a general’s son with no weapons.” He lectured enraged. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “What were you thinking? What would I do if something happened to you? I can’t lose you like I lost your mother.” His eyes softened, and he hugged me tightly to his chest, ignoring my wet clothing.

           “I’m sorry. I just wanted to have a few hours of peace before the selection.” I said returning the hug. “I had an idea about the selection.” I continued pulling out of the hug.”

           My father tilted his head at me and gestured for me to explain.

           “I thought that I could disguise myself as a maid, so I can tell which suitors like me for me and which ones are social climbers. It would also give me a chance to see how the princes will treat each other in the competition.” I explained to my father.

           My father placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke, “I know you are stressed about having to choose a suitor, but you can’t avoid meeting them. How am I to explain to our guests that my daughter, the sole reason they are here, is not present to any activities?” He looked at me with a raised brow.

           “I already thought of that. When I greet them at the opening dinner, I could wear a masquerade mask and a cloak to help obscure my appearance.” I explained.

           “Since this is your selection, I’ll allow it. The members of the Royal Counsel never said you were not allowed to do a masquerade theme. Besides, this helps with your punishment.” My father said mischievously.

           “Punishment? What punishment?” I questioned.

           “For sneaking out. You’re grounded for two weeks and since you’ll be playing the part of a maid, you are to polish all of the weapons and armor in the armory after you are done spying.” I bowed my head and accepted the punishment. It could be worse.

           “I suppose I’ll go change and prepare the dinner in a few hours.” I said turning to exit the throne room.

           “Yes. And I’ll tell make sure the staff is aware that you’ll be acting as a maid and that it is to remain confidential. But first, randori.” He said pulling out the dreaded wooden stick.

           “No!” I screamed in panic as I turned bolting towards the door like my life depended on it.

 Leonardo

We made it to the village without any other incidents. The townspeople didn’t pay us much attention as we made our way through the back alleys to the outskirts of the village. After we passed all signs of civilization, we headed into the woods surrounding the town. A rundown looking gray house covered in vines and other types of vegetation was hidden by the over brush. The house looked as if no one has lived in it for years.

Tiger Claw dismounted from his horse and stalked towards the door that was hanging off its hinges. The door fell to the ground with a large crash.

“Smooth, Slick.” Raph commented dryly as he took in the sight of the fallen door and the cloud of smoke. I smirked and heard Mikey chuckle and Donnie wheeze from laughter. Tiger Claw made a move towards Raph and I was about to move to stop him, but a sharp whistle stopped our advances.

“Are you going to come in or do you two have a grudge match to settle?” Xever asked sarcastically from the doorway. Tiger Claw swiftly turned and marched rather moodily into the house. “And someone fix the door.” Xever added as a second thought.

My brothers and I shared a laugh as we unhooked our bags from our horses. Then, we made our way into the house along with Bradford while Zeck and Steranko stayed behind to try and fix the door. The inside of the house was more expensive than any nobleman’s house I have been to. There was a grand spiral staircase and a golden chandelier. There were no paintings lining the walls.

“This place is more over the top than Visiozo’s Mansion.” Raph murmured as we followed Xever into the dining room.  I had to fight the urge to smile while Mikey wasn’t bothering to hide his laughter.

“Ugh. Don’t even mention that slob, Raph.” Donnie complained.

“If you four are done giggling amongst like chittering maidens, we’d like to discuss how to kidnap the princess.” Tiger Claw said from the head of the table. He was trying to make himself look like a king on a throne. I mentally scoffed not rising to his bait. Raph looked ready to make some biting remark, but I placed my hand on his arm before he could do anything.

Once I was sure he wouldn’t do anything foolish, I released his arm and took a seat at the end of the table. Donnie and Mikey were already seated and Raph did so rather reluctantly with a death glare in Tiger Claw’s direction.

“Xever, since you have been here the longest, what have you gathered on the Hamatos so far?” I asked not missing the glare that Tiger Claw threw at me.

“Well, Hamato Yoshi keeps his daughter under lock and key in the castle. Apparently, she has never even stepped foot outside the palace walls and this selection is the only time she has ever any been introduced to any suitors.” Xever answered.

“We already know that! Do you have anything we can use to capture the princess?” I snapped at him.

“I’m sure our father would like to know that all the money he spent on you has gone to waste. I wonder how he will react when he finds out.” Donnie mused out loud.

“Please don’t tell Master Shredder, Your Highness.” Xever begged to Donnie.

“We will if you don’t have anything useful.” Raph put in enjoying the look of Xever squirming at the thought of how our father would punish him.

Mikey sat beside Raph looking uncomfortable. I hated that father ordered him to come along. I wanted him to keep his innocence and optimistic outlook on the world. Everything we’re about to do goes against what all the heroes in his story books would do.

“Apparently, the princess is hopelessly naïve. She’s just like every other princess out there, all looks no substance. From what I’ve heard, her father didn’t even teach her to fight. She’s too fragile for that, a treasure that must always be protected.” Xever said breaking through my thoughts.  

“Looks? Have you seen her?” I questioned.

“No but the villagers have heard tales of her beauty. Apparently, she looks exactly like the late Queen Shen. She has raven hair, pale skin, red lips, and startling blue eyes.” Xever concluded.

“What about her powers?” I questioned

“Oh those. I’ve heard some stories from the palace about her ability to summon flames and that she can turn anyone into gold. All of it is hear say, I have never gotten close enough to see if it is true. That’s all I know.” Xever answered.

“How’s that supposed to help us?” Bradford growled from his seat beside Tiger Claw. Xever crossed his arms and shrugged in response.

“I have a plan to kidnap the brat. You four” he said while gesturing to my brothers and I, “will compete for the princess’s hand under the guise of children from King Samson.” Tiger Claw stated.

           “I’m not competing for the princess!” I yelled in outrage at him.

           “And I’m not about to masquerade as the son of that cowardly-”

           “Raph.” I warned cutting him off and gesturing in Mikey’s direction, so he wouldn’t say anything inappropriate. Raph crossed his arms and sat moodily in his chair.

“You won’t actually compete for the princess’s hand. We are only using it to get into the castle and get the princess alone.” Tiger Claw paused and regarded me with narrowed eyes and continued, “You aren’t afraid it will upset that little maid of yours, are you?”

“A maid?” Xever asked amused.

“Perhaps we should get back to planning on how to kidnap a princess. I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to.” I said cutting Tiger Claw or anyone else off from talking about Mei.

“Anyway, masquerading as Samson’s sons is our best bet of getting into the castle. He’s isolated and obscure enough that no one will recognize you, and Master Shredder recently occupied his territory, so we won’t have to worry about him or his children making an appearance.” Tiger Claw explained.

“The other princes shouldn’t get to the castle until nightfall. We can rest and wait for the other princes and nobility to arrive then plan how to get the princess alone from there.” Bradford said.

“Right. Well I’ll show you to your rooms.” Xever said getting and walking out of the dining room. We followed him up the stairs. “You’ll have to share your rooms, you can take your pick just not that room.” He said while gesturing to a room at the end of the hallway and continued, “That’s my room.” With that he walked inside his room and promptly slammed the door.

There were three rooms left. Tiger Claw and Bradford took the closest room and Zeck and Steranko took the one opposite to them.

“Looks like we’re sharing a room. It will be just like when we were kids!” Mikey said with a wide grin on his face.

“You’re still a kid, Mikey.” Donnie said as he ruffled Mikey’s hair.

We walked into the room and surveyed it. There was a couch and a chair surrounding a small. A desk was in the corner of the room devoid of any parchment or ink quills. The bed was smaller than mine at the palace, but it was still large enough to fit two people without being cramped.

“I call the couch.” Raph declared dropping his bag on the floor and throwing himself on the couch.

“I guess I’ll take the chair. You two can have the bed.” I said to Mikey and Donnie. I laid my bag beside the chair and slumped into it. I kicked off my shoes and tried to get comfortable on the old chair. Raph and Mikey were already snoring softly while Donnie was still twisting and turning trying to get comfortable on the bed. I shifted on the chair and tried to clear my mind for sleep to take me. The last conscious thought was the image of the raven-haired maid.

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

           I woke up to the sound of knocking on the door. I jumped up from my chair and rushing to the door. Steranko greeted me as I opened the door. “It’s time.” He said in a thick, barely understandable accent. I nodded my head and then closed the door.

           My brothers were awake by now with varying degrees of alertness. “Come on guys. Time to get dressed.” I said as I dug into my bag to get a new set of clothing that didn’t smell like horses. I donned my signature royal blue tunic and black leggings. My brothers wore identical sets of clothing only in their signature colors. I adjusted my twin katanas on my back and wore a black cloak to hid them. With a nod to my brothers we grabbed our bags and went to go meet the others in the dinning room.

           “Took ya long enough.” Zeck grumbled. He was wearing his usual bright purple attire (not very stealthy for a professional thief if you ask me) with his feet propped up on the table as he ate a sandwich. Steranko was beside him sleeping with his head propped up by his hand. Tiger Claw was sitting at the head of the table (again) sharpening his sword.

           “Where’s Bradford and Xever?” I asked as I surveyed the room and didn’t see them.

           “They went into the village to scout escape routes and guard shifts.” Tiger Claw answered not looking up from his sword. After he was satisfied with his work, he said, “You four are going to go to the palace without us and figure out how to get the princess alone. In the meantime, we’ll be trying to find a way to sneak in without anyone recognizing us.”

           Internally, I cheered that they wouldn’t be stuck with us in the castle. “How will you guys know when captured her?” I questioned.

           Tiger Claw pulled an odd, glowing purple crystal from his pocket. “Stockman used some of the kraang power crystals to create a way to send messages to each other without writing a letter.” He said examining the crystal before tossing it to Donnie.

           “Incredible.” Donnie muttered in a trance as he gently examined the crystal. “How does it work?” He asked holding it up to his face.

           “Flick it to record your message and flick it again to end the recording. After you end the recording it will automatically be sent to my crystal.” He said holding up an identical crystal of his own. “The crystal will glow when you have a new message, just tap it and it will play.” He continued.  

           “Cool.” Mikey said reaching for the crystal.

           “Don’t you dare.” Donnie said pocketing the crystal, so Mikey won’t break it or do who knows what to it. Mikey pouted then smiled mischievously. No doubt he was working out a way to get the crystal.

           “Come on, bros.” I said already walking out of the room. When we exited the house, Raph stalked ahead of me and mounted his horse.

           “Let’s just get this over with, so we can head back home.” Raph said moodily already angling his horse towards the castle. I rolled my eyes and mounted my own horse. Donnie helped Mikey onto the horse and then mounted his own.

[thinksideways]

27 or 28 for the writing prompt please :)?

27. — boxes

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

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

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

*

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

He can work with that.

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

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

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

*

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

*

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

He’d been checking out Hamilton.

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bell rings.

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

“Congratulations,” Hamilton says.

“Thanks,” Burr replies.

*

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

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

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

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

“I want a rematch,” Hamilton says.

“Talk to Washington, not me.”

“Already did. He said no.”

“There you go.”

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

“Then train me.”

“What?”

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

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

“We’ll see.”

“Give me your number, at least.”

Burr sighs.

“Fine.”

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

*

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

Maybe he screenshots it. Maybe.

*

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

He gets a text all of fifteen minutes later.

I see you liked my page.

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

I see you liked mine, too.

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

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

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

Thanks.

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

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

Asshole.

Just telling the truth.

*

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

Well.

*

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

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

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

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

Buy a guy a drink first, geez.

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

*

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

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

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

“You’re on.”

They touch gloves.

[omgxiaoch]

Cursed

ship: jooheon x [y/n]

genre: au, series, romance, fantasy

word count: 2,759

summary: the world was too dangerous for someone like you. living in a place where the cursed witch daunted on every royal blood line was something that you’ve grown curious about. from the unexpected meeting, you couldn’t help but fall into another witch’s trap. a trap that would make you happy or would make you even regret being alive.

a/n: hey guys! this series(?) is actually inspired by howl’s moving castle but it’s different in some aspects... i think.. yeah. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy reading this and i’ll try to work on the second part after finishing all the requests in my inbox. aaaand, i want to dedicate this first part to my fam @joohoneymoney *wink* 

masterlist

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

Gracefully swaying to the music being played by the orchestra, you couldn’t help but lose yourself in detailed fantasies as you stared right back at your partner’s chocolate brown eyes. He was someone who had stars in his eyes, countless stars to be exact. You twirled around and was brought back into his arms, his breath glossing over your sensitive ear.

“Have you ever heard of the cursed witch living outside the very walls of this kingdom?”

The hairs on your back stood at how deep, and seductive his voice was. There wasn’t enough time for you to respond when he simply handed you over to the anticipating duke. Your eyes widened in fear when you saw him slowly drifting away from the crowd of royalties. Soon enough, he was already out of your sight. The sound of your heart pounding with dread that you wouldn’t be able to see him again scared you. 

His question ringed over and over until you excused yourself from the very last duke you’ve danced with. Your eyes wandered around the ballroom and there were no signs of the mysterious young man who’s gotten your heart flutter with just the look in his eyes. 

You were getting restless by the second and you just had to frantically search for him. You remembered clearly his soft features. His silken brown hair that almost covered his eyes, his sharp nose, his red plump luscious lips and the prominent dimples on his cheeks when he smiled. Taking a lot of turns here and there, you had the urge to just give up and call it a night. 

Twirling around to go to the other side of the room, everything seemed to stop when you caught a glimpse of his suit. Hurriedly bringing your feet towards him, you couldn’t help but feel your heart tighten in fear. You feared that you might lose him again and you didn’t want that to happen. You did not want to let this chance slip.

Remembering the question he asked, you were sure you knew what you wanted to tell him. The man was finally right in front of you. Slowly reaching for his hand, you were about to take a hold of his long, slender fingers when he turned around to face you with that smile of his.

His crescent-shaped eyes have totally caught you breathless. “Oh, My Lady…” He whispered without ripping his eyes off of you. You let out a shaky breath before clearing your throat, “I’ve heard about the cursed witched…” It was pretty sure that the man was taken aback by your remark, but he was able to compose himself.

“Aren’t you scared of the thought of… meeting him at this party?” His honeyed voice rang in your ears, making you look up to him with your heart pounding really loudly against your chest. Were you afraid to meet that cursed witch? You furrow your eyebrows at the thought… to be honest, you’ve never really thought about it, really.

Yes, he was known for stealing the hearts of many because of his beauty and flowery words but you weren’t scared. You weren’t scared at the thought of meeting him. It was never been proven that it had happened as it was just a merely a myth that kept the town buzzing every time they’ve seen his eagles soaring up in the sky.

“No…” you didn’t know why but your gut feeling told you that the man was someone who wasn’t welcomed here. Someone who has long been feared by the town folks. But something deep inside you also told you to just stay and hear this man out, hear out what he has to say to you.

A faint smile crosses his lips when he took your hand in his. He looks down at your soft, slender fingers then back up to your eyes. The pair of eyes that have reminded him of that distant memory, only to envision himself inside the eye of that dreadful past of his… only to be brought back to reality when he remembered that you weren’t that person.

“Such precious soul like you should be afraid of him. He’s nothing but a wicked man who longed to get his heart back from that demon whom he traded it to… in order to save the person that had his mind going crazy at the memory of her touch...”

His mouth felt bitter at the thought of his life. It was then when he realized that he has just given a hint of his identity that had his clammy hands shake. Feeling a light squeeze on his hands only had he realized that he had lowered his gaze from the eye contact he had with you.

You somewhat felt like you’ve met him before but you just couldn’t remember. Tucking a finger under his chin, you lifted it up to meet his chocolate brown eyes once more. “But… what if I do not wish to have my heart tremble in fear when I meet him? What if I want to open my heart to him just to know more about him?”

There was no use in denying that you were something. Something that he has never met after leaving that woman behind. “Let me tell you a secret, My Lady…” Nodding to his words, he leaned forward until his breath glossed over the sensitive skin of your neck. He brought his lips up to your ears and whispered loud enough for the two of you.

“I’m that cursed witch.”

That cursed witch? You mentally asked yourself as you felt his gaze on you. “Dang it… I’m so sorry, My Lady but I think I must go... If I stay here any longer, the guards might catch me and I won’t be able to see you ever again. It was a pleasure to meet someone as pure as you despite not knowing your name. Anyhow, farewell My Lady.”

Turning his heel around, he was about to walk away when he felt you tug onto his coat, making him look back at you. “My name’s… [y/n]. Can I… Can I know your name, sir?”

Unbelievable. Never had he encountered someone who would be brave enough to ask his name. Smiling at how courageous and cute you are, he flashes you a loving smile before he lets out the answer that you’ve anticipated in hearing.

“Jooheon.”

And that was the first and last time that you’ve seen him. Glancing down at your hands, you clearly remembered how soft and how your hands perfectly fitted in his. “Lady [y/n], you’ve been spacing out ever since I stepped foot in this room.” Your tutor, Kihyun, scolded as he waved his hands right in front of you, snapping you out from your train of thoughts.

“Sorry… I just don’t feel well.” You lied, avoiding his gaze. Kihyun was always quick to catch up on things like this. He knew you were lying but decided to just let you be. “Alright. We’ll just continue our class tomorrow.” Kihyun sighed in defeat as he started to pack up his things.

Ever since that night, you just couldn’t help but think about him. He wasn’t the same as the person that they’ve described him to be. Jooheon was someone who was just misunderstood by many. He was someone who had a big heart…. Big enough to have it traded to some demon in order to save the person who he loved dearly.

Listlessly lifting yourself up of your seat, you quickly excused yourself before heading back to your room. Has he ever felt lonely after all these years? Has he ever had someone to cry on or even hear out the things that have been weighing down on him? The thoughts were too much for you that you felt a pang in your heart. If you were to put yourself in his shoes, you wouldn’t be able to make it through the day without bawling your eyes out.

“It must’ve been pretty hard for him.” You unconsciously said out loud, only to hear a loud cough from behind you. “Pretty hard on who?” Turning around to face the owner of the voice, you could feel your breath hitch at the sight of your best friend. He was practically hovering on you due to his height. “W-what are you talking about, H-hyungwon?”

“Hm, you’ve been acting pretty strange [y/n]. Is it because you met someone at the party?” Hyungwon teased as he takes up space in between the two of you, making you back away until you feel you back hit the wall. “N-no! What makes you say that, you dweeb?”

Laughing at how easy it was to read you, Hyungwon looks down at you and replies, “You only call me dweeb when something happens to you.”

“Now, tell me, who was that man you searched for the whole night?” Hyungwon was undeniably too obvious with his feelings, not to mention that he was going to be your fiancée once you finally turn twenty in the next few days.

You could feel your throat dry up. The thought of Jooheon’s smile made you stop yourself from blurting out something that could get you in trouble. “No one, it was just some duke who left his handkerchief behind.” You firmly said with confidence. Nodding his head in content, Hyungwon flashes you a smile before leaving you dumbfounded.

“That was close…”

 “Jooheon, you’ve been pacing to and fro. What’s gotten into you?” Changkyun, the demon who has Jooheon’s heart, exclaimed. It was definitely a sight to see. Never has he seen this side of Jooheon. He was like a caged tiger with dilated eyes, growling thousands of words that only he could only understand as he paced to and fro.

Jooheon’s mind was clouded with the thought of your smile, your eyes, your lips, and just everything about you. He knew that it was wrong for him to feel that way despite without having a heart. Ever since that night, he wasn’t able to keep you out of his mind.

“I can’t stop thinking about her.” Jooheon cried out as he pulled his hair in frustration. “I can’t stop...” His eyes were stinging with tears. The thought of you only made him remember the past that he had tried to bury at the back of his mind but it was useless.

Changkyun heaves out a sigh as he inhales another firewood, keeping the fire burning. If the fire goes out, it’d be the end for the two of them. They were both young and naive to realize what would happen if they entered such trade. It was too late for the two of them when they’re hearts merged.

“Nothing’s gonna happen if you keep this up, Jooheon. Get a hold of yourself, will you?!” Changkyun snapped when he saw Jooheon slowly breaking down. Jooheon has been slowly losing himself when he remembered her. The woman who’s gotten his heart pounding and hurting at the same time. 

Changkyun heaves out a deep sigh before glancing back at his broken friend. “I’ve heated up the tub. Why don’t you go and take a bath to keep your head at bay? We won’t be able to do well in keeping your place hidden if you’re gonna be like this.”

The sound of sniffles echoed throughout the empty walls of his house. “You’re right...” Wiping away the tears away from his cheeks, Jooheon flashes Changkyun a smile before going to the bathroom with slumped shoulders. 

“[y/n], honey, why won’t you come out and have some dinner?” Your mother’s worried voice sounded muffled behind the door. Hearing no response from you, she pushes the door open, only to find an empty room.

The colors on her face were drained at the thought of you going missing. “Hyunwoo! Hyunwoo! W-where’s [y/n]?!” Your mother’s shriek startled everyone in the house. “Isn’t she in her room, Mother?” Hyunwoo asks as he comes out of his room, totally composed and calm despite seeing his mother turn pale.

“She’s not here.” 

Hoseok, your other older brother, comes in of the house with a bag in his hand, totally confused at what’s happening. “Why is the house so tensed up?” He casually asks, only to receive a glare from your mother.

“[y/n]’s missing.”

With your small suitcase in your hand, you dashed towards the train and immediately hopped on. Just a few hours ago, you suddenly felt the urge to seek the cursed witch. It was the perfect time for you to leave your house when everyone was busy with dinner. Looking back at your place, you apologetically smiled and told yourself that you’re doing this for your own good.

It was only a ten-minute ride for you to reach the front gates. Without any problems, you were let off easily by the guards and you started to walk up to a couple with a small truck. 

“Is it okay if I ride with you guys?” You shyly asked at the old couple, only to get a nod from them. “Where you heading to, young lady?” The elder woman asked with a smile as she scooted over to his husband, giving you some space to sit on. “Just a little bit further from here.”

“Alrighty then.”

“Are you sure you want to go up there, sweetie? It’s filled with witches out there.” The elder woman worriedly asked as she watches you get off the truck without any problem. “Yes, Ma’am. It’s alright, I have someone that I know who lives up there.” 

Throughout the ride, you were able to spot a big house right above with eagles circling the area. The elder woman then gives you a smile before they left without any hesitation. 

Looking around, it was eerily quiet but soothing at the same time. It didn’t take you long to find your way up to the hills. The grass was a lot greener and there were a couple of flowers that you’ve never have seen before.

The path to the hill was kind of steep, making you breathless before you could even reach the top. Bending down with your hands resting on your knees, you tried to catch your breath before you could even continue your journey.

“I can do this, I can--”

“Why is a fine young lady coming to such dangerous place?” A voice filled with mischief asked you, startling you in the process. Quickly turning around, you find a man wearing a fancy red eccentric patterned suit staring down at you. His golden brown eyes were piercing right through your soul, making your breath hitch.

“I’m actually visiting someone..” The man’s eyebrows quirked up in curiosity. His lips were slightly puckered up as he was thinking of possible hosts. “Is that someone... Jooheon?” 

“D-do you know him?” you stammered, trying to calm your beating heart. “Yes, and I think I can take you to him.” Flashing you a gentle smile, he offers you his arm. 

Knowing that you were in a place filled with witches, you were hesitating to take up his offer. “Why should I trust you?” 

Laughing at how silly your question was, the man pulls out a small piece of paper and hands it to you, “I’m actually a friend of Jooheon and I was also on my way to his place to deliver him this letter but I think you can do it for me.”

“And if that’s not enough, I’ll even tell you my name.” Looking at the folded paper in your palms, you couldn’t help but slowly trust the man. “My name’s Minhyuk and you can tell him that I brought you there.”

“Alright. I believe you.” Before you knew it, you were already floating up in the air, hands tightly wrapped around his arm. “I-is this even safe?!” You squeaked, only to fuel Minhyuk’s amusement.

“It is. Now, ease up [y/n]! We’re almost there.” 

The door finally bursts open with steam coming out from the room. Jooheon was practically half naked with his lower body wrapped in some towel. Trudging towards the kitchen to get some water, Changkyun’s ears immediately quirked up, only to stop Jooheon from his tracks.

“What’s wrong, Changkyun? He asked as he stops right in front of Changkyun’s fireplace. The look on Changkyun’s face sent chills down Jooheon’s spine and the only time Changkyun looked at him like that was when the Witch of the North came to visit him.

“Jooheon, I sense a presence right in front of our house.” 

[waveswordswhispers]

Playing Beneath the Moonlight

Shin Soukoku Week Day One: Moonlight/Fairytale

Ahhhhh, I hope this isn’t too ooc, I’ve never written this pairing before.

A game of tag anyone?

Atsushi liked walking at night when the moon was bright, the moonlight shining down onto him.

Usually, he strolled through a small garden late at night, by the pond where he could see the moon's reflection, hear the crickets chirping their melody.

The cool, crisp air that settled on his skin made him feel relaxed, the sweet scent of freshly cut grass addicting.

It was peaceful, a complete contrast from his day job and he loved it.

Tonight was different.

Way different.

Atsushi was sure he would regret this in the end.

"Come on," Atsushi huffed, yanking Akutugawa along, ignoring the scowl the Port Mafia executive was giving him.

"Why are we here?" Akutugawa growled, complying but digging his heels in every now and then or suddenly letting himself go slack which made Atsushi stumble forward a few steps before he caught himself.

"Well," Atsushi halted, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow. "Would you rather be at the bar, watching Dazai-san and Chuuya-san yell at each other and potentially be putting on a show that we both don't want to see?"

Akutugawa winced and shook his head hastily, no longer giving Atsushi any trouble so Atsushi dropped his hand and sighed, shooting Akutugawa a slightly annoyed look.

"Great. Now stop acting like a spoiled brat."

Akutugawa bristled, shooting Atsushi a dark look.

"I'm older than you," he snarled, Rashamon activating. Atsushi eyed the ability and chose to momentarily disregard it.

"You sure don't act like that," Atsushi shot back before he even realized it, quickly clapping his hands over his mouth in horror and backing away from a now murderous looking Akutugawa.

Now was the time to pay attention to Rashamon.

Atsushi dodged Akutugawa's first attack and took off running, successfully evading Rashamon for a good ten minutes before Akutugawa caught up to him just as he was entering the garden.

"I yield!" Atsushi yelped as Rashamon wrapped around him and Akutugawa hoisted him into the air. "I yield!"

"I. Am. Not. A. Brat," Akutugawa growled.

"This behaviour is totally proving it! Totally!" Atsushi had no idea where all the sass was coming from but he needed to control it before he got himself killed.

"I should throw you into the pond," Akutugawa threatened.

Atsushi screeched.

The pond looked nice and everything, perhaps dipping in a foot would feel nice but in the end, it was cold.

"Please don't," Atsushi murmured meekly. "It's freezing and I despise swimming."

Akutugawa stared up at him, frowning before shaking his head and Atsushi swore he heard a chuckle.

"Right. Cats don't like water."

"I'm a tiger," Atsushi stated flatly. "A weretiger."

"So essentially," Akutugawa set him down, Rashamon dissipating. "You're just a big scaredy cat." Atsushi smiled sweetly, hand curling into a fist.

"Well," Atsushi cautiously bent down. "At least I'm not," he paused, lowering his voice and Akutugawa leaned forward. Atsushi's hand shot out and he knocked Akutugawa back, albeit not hard enough to hurt him, but with enough force to momentarily stun Akutugawa so that Atsushi could have a head start. "AT LEAST I'M NOT A BRAT!" Atsushi hollered, getting a good thirty second head start before Akutugawa recovered.

"GET BACK HERE!" Akutugawa roared, sounding furious and Atsushi halted halfway around the pond, watching Akutugawa stand up, looking positively ready to kill. As Akutugawa moved in one direction, Atsushi mimicked him, neither gaining or losing ground as Akutugawa ran a full circle around the pond, only to have Atsushi on the other side, no closer than he was before.

Akutugawa narrowed his eyes and Atsushi waved at him sheepishly.

"Get over here!" Akutugawa shouted, almost tempted to catapult himself across the pond but was convinced in the time it would take for him to get across, Atsushi would be able to get around to the other side.

"What?" Atsushi yelled back, cupping his hand around his ears.

"Never mind," Akutugawa muttered under his breath, taking off in one direction, hoping to catch Atsushi off guard but Atsushi had always had lightning fast reflexes and Akutugawa was really the slower one so it made no difference.

The chase commenced.

Really, they were just running in circles, Atsushi always making sure (or attempting to make sure) he was firmly on the other side of the pond, right across from Akutugawa.

Occasionally they would lose sight of each other due to the trees or plants that would obscure them from each other and more than once, Atsushi had nearly ran face first into Akutugawa, only to barely manage to dodge Rashamon and make a mad dash away from the other ability user.

Somewhere in the good hour they'd spent running, it had turned more playful, Akutugawa no longer having a murderous air to him and Atsushi no longer afraid of dying within the next few hours.

Akutugawa had shed his coat after a while to run more freely and had started to predict Atsushi's movements, coming closer and closer each time to catching Atsushi as Atsushi slipped out of his grasp each time, sometimes with unbelievable luck.

Atsushi screeched when Akutugawa's fingers just grazed his shirt, jumping out of range onto the dock that led into the pond.

"Crap," Atsushi breathed as he realized his mistake. Akutugawa had cornered him and really, there was nowhere else to go, the water did not count.

Akutugawa seemed to be thinking the same thing before a rare, wicked smile spread across his face and he charged forward, tackling Atsushi.

Atsushi barely had time to shriek before they plunged into the freezing water, quickly swimming to the surface and letting out another shriek as he got his head above the surface, the water dripping off his nose, hair plastered onto his head and in his eyes.

Akutugawa didn't look that much better, his hair an absolute mess, eyelashes heavy with droplets.

"It is cold," Akutugawa muttered as he treaded water beside Atsushi, teeth chattering.

Atsushi nodded, his arms becoming numb and he swam towards the dock, Akutugawa trailing behind him.

"Y-You're e-e-evil," he managed to say as he hauled himself onto the wood, his muscles suddenly screaming of exhaustion. "I-I'm go-going to c-catch a cold."

"Well," Akutugawa sneezed. "That makes two of us."

Atsushi lay there, too tired and cold to even move but Akutugawa had climbed onto his feet walked away for a moment.

Atsushi was ready to sleep despite the cold, running for an hour from an ability user did wonders to his energy and he was already accepting that he would most likely be bedridden by a cold or something worse for the next week or so.

Something heavy settled over him and Atsushi's eyes shot open.

Akutugawa was back, Atsushi hadn't heard his footsteps but he was back, wrapping his dry coat around Atsushi.

He was shivering as well, so Atsushi sat up and offering the coat to Akutugawa as well.

Akutugawa huffed with displeasure but accepted, huddling next to Atsushi, trying not to touch Atsushi at first but finally conceded, leaning against Atsushi, staring up at the moon.

"That was not my smartest choice," Akutugawa admitted, his lips curling into a small smile. "But I don't regret it."

"No time for regrets," Atsushi replied tiredly, setting his head down on Akutugawa's shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

"It's nice here." Akutugawa paused, shifting to adjust into a position more comfortable. "Nice place for moonlight."

"You think?" Akutugawa harrumphed and said nothing else.

They sat comfortably in silence before Higuchi and Kunikida came to retrieve them, scolding them on their poor choices.

The next day,  Chuuya called Dazai, sounding annoyed.

"Akutgawa's sick, he has a cold."

"Yeah?" Dazai sounded slightly miffed, a rare occasion. "Atsushi has a fever and I'm playing babysitter."

"Isn't Yosano the doctor?"

"Yeah, but-I'll call you later-"

The line cut off and Chuuya rolled his eyes, turning to Akutugawa who was surrounded by tissues.

"What were you doing anyways?" he demanded and Akutugawa grinned.

"Playing beneath the moonlight."

[placetobenation]

On the same day 25 years ago, Greg Maddux threw a 94 pitch complete game shutout in Colorado against the Rockies to lower his ERA to 1.56, while Tony Gwynn had 3 hits in Houston to raise his average to .394 with 45 games remaining. It was August 11, 1994 and the longstanding war between MLB owners and the Players Association would go nuclear very soon, with a players strike starting the next day wiping out the remainder of the 1994 regular season, playoffs, and 252 games the following year. The game once called America’s Pastime was tarnished.

Because it was the players striking for the 5thtime since 1972, much of the blame fell on them in the public narrative, with owners receiving criticism but not nearly as much as the players and Union president Donald Fehr. 

The earliest labor disputes in baseball after the formation of the MLBPA in 1966 centered around minimum salaries, arbitration rights, and funding of pensions for retired players, the latter of which was the main issue in the 1972 strike that cancelled 86 games. The nullification of the reserve clause in December 1975 in the Seitz decision led to the advent of free agency, and increasingly hostile labor negotiations.

The next ten years passed with four work stoppages (three strikes and one lockout) mainly relating to free agency compensation rules and salary arbitration rights. The owners sought to impose a free agent system with heavier compensation to drive down salaries while the players fought for a free market approach. 

Under the guidance of MLB commissioner Peter Ueberroth for three years starting after the 1985 season, owners refrained from making lucrative offers to free agents from other teams, depressing the market for those players. As an example future Hall of Famer Tim Raines became a free agent after the 1986 season at age 27, but returned to the Montreal Expos on May 1, 1987 after getting no offers as a free agent. The union filed a collusion grievance against the owners each year, and players were eventually awarded $280 million in damages, but any trust that existed between players and ownership evaporated with the rounds of collusion. (Note: Per the collective bargaining agreement, “clubs are not allowed to concert with other clubs and players are not allowed to act in concert with other players”)

Owners forced out commissioner (and ownership critic) Fay Vincent in 1992 and installed Milwaukee Brewers owner Bud Selig as acting commissioner for the coming labor war, one that would see the owners demand a salary cap similar to what the NBA had and what the NFL had implemented in their most recent bargaining talks.

In June, the owners offered a salary cap with a 50/50 split of revenues. But put yourself in the position of the players: why would you trust the owners when they had just been caught cheating your side out of millions of dollars? The players were forced into a strike because they could not have a good faith negotiation given the history involved, and the owners were threatening to declare an impasse and implement their own system with a salary cap, which they did several months into the strike.

It is also hard to empathize with owners who talked of using replacement players before a strike date was even set. The following spring training saw replacement player games before a court injunction led to a return of the regular players for an abbreviated 1995 season. Replacements would have led to two teams not fielding teams: the Toronto Blue Jays were prohibited from using replacement players due to Ontario labor law, and the Baltimore Orioles refused to field a team because owner Peter Angelos was a highly-regarded labor lawyer.

Discussion of these labor issues in Major League Baseball isn’t much fun but trying to project how the rest of the 1994 season would have played out might be, with apologies to the rightfully upset Montreal Expos fans. Let’s assume that the MLBPA called off the strike in exchange for assurances of no lockout in 1995 or declaration of an impasse in negotiations by the owners.

AL East

There was a changing of the guard in the division with the two-time defending World Series champion Toronto Blue Jays taking a big step back with a 33-46 start. They won 22 of their last 36 games but that wasn’t enough to catch the New York Yankees and the Baltimore Orioles in the division. The Yanks (70-43) held a 6.5 games lead over the O’s (63-49) on the strength of a career year from AL batting champ Paul O’Neill (.359/.460/.603) and a resurgent year from Wade Boggs (.342/.433/.489), who had his best power year since 1987. 

This was a very different Yankees team than the group that would dominate the AL East for the next decade: no Jeter, no Pettitte, no Rivera, and no Posada. They got 19 homers from Seinfeld guest star Danny Tartabull, over 300 innings between Jim Abbott and Melido Perez, and the back end of the bullpen was anchored by Bob Wickman and Steve Howe. All would be gone before the 1996 World Series.

Cal Ripken was the constant for the Orioles, as his streak stood at 2,009 consecutive games at the time of the strike, with Mike Mussina anchoring the rotation and Lee Smith in the bullpen. Their fate likely would be decided by the 15 remaining games against fellow wild card contenders Kansas City, Chicago, and Cleveland. Prior to the strike they did get a boost from = Armando Benitez, who gave up 1 run in 10 innings after his late July call-up.

The rebuilding Red Sox started 20-7 before collapsing to finish 54-61, and the Tigers both scored and gave up a ton of runs to ensure mediocrity.

Result: Yankees cruise to a division title with 95-100 wins, while a 87-90 win Baltimore team falls short of the wild card.

AL Central

This division was by far the best in baseball in 1994, with three playoff contenders and no teams on a track to lose more than 90 games. The defending division champion Chicago White Sox led the way, followed by a rising Cleveland team in its shiny new Jacobs Field, and a sneaky good team in Kansas City. An intense rivalry built between the White Sox and Indians centered about the Albert Belle corked bat controversy.

Frank Thomas won the MVP with Ted Williams-esque numbers (.353/.487/.729, with 109 BBs, 38 HR, 101 RBI in 113 games) but their strength was their starting rotation of reigning Cy Young winner Jack McDowell, veterans Alex Fernandez and Wilson Alvarez, and young Jason Bere all with ERAs under 4.00 with over 140 IP. 

That pitching would be needed against a Cleveland club on pace to score nearly 1,000 runs over a full season. Their regular lineup boasted 7 players with an OPS+ at 106 or higher including young Jim Thome and Manny Ramirez. The starting rotation led the league with 17 complete games, perhaps a necessity with the bullpen being the clear weakness of the team. Cleveland still had 30 home games left to play, and they were 35-16 at Jacobs Field in its inaugural season.

Kansas City is something of a surprise contender because they would not even finish .500 again for another 9 years. David Cone won the Cy Young and led the team in WAR in the 2nd season of his second stint with his hometown team, while Tom Gordon and Kevin Appier were 2ndand 3rdin WAR for the Royals. With the retirement of George Brett, the lineup was below average, with only Wally Joyner and one-hit wonder Bob Hamelin carrying the load.

Result: The White Sox barely hang on with 95 wins and hold off Cleveland (94 wins), who pick up the wild card. Kansas City finishes 3rdwith 85-87 wins. 

AL West

This is the opposite of Garrison Keillor’s fictional Lake Wobegon, the place where all the women are string, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average. The American League West was more like Camp Crystal Lake from Friday The 13thin 1994 with the four worst records in the 14 team league. 

Texas “led” the way at 52-62, on pace for 74 wins in a full season. Their lineup looks fit for 2019 with lots of home runs and even more strikeouts. Jose Canseco hit 31 homers in a strong comeback from an abbreviated season where a fly ball hit him in the headand a pitching performanceled to Tommy John surgery. Kenny Rogers did toss a perfect game, and they also had a young Darren Oliver who hung around long enough to actually pitch in a World Series for Texas. While their new stadium (which closes in 2019!) did not bring the same success as it did for Cleveland, it did embolden their ownerto seek political office. 

Oakland was a game back, but lost Mark McGwire to a foot injury at various points of the season. Steve Ontiveros became a footnote in history as one of the most obscure ERA champions in history with a 2.65, and Rickey Henderson returned from Toronto for his 3rdstint in the East Bay. The A’s had stretch losing 31 of 37, followed by winning 19 of 23. 

In mid-July, four ceiling tiles fell from the Seattle Kingdome’s roofwhich led to the Mariners finishing the year on the road, so the strike saved them from what would have become a 70 game road trip. While their best players like Ken Griffey Jr., Edgar Martinez, Jay Buhner, and Randy Johnson excelled, the rest of the team was about as functional as their home stadium. The July call-up of 18 year old Alex Rodriguez did not last long and he was sent back to the minors after 6 errors and 0 extra base hits in 13 games.

The California Angels also saw their home stadium damaged in the Northridge earthquake in January, repairs were made prior to their season. The Halos had little going for them, with the exception of a bizarre outlier season from 33 year old 3B Spike Owen, who posted a .418 OBP in 321 plate appearances, nearly 100 points above his lifetime OBP.

Result: Seattle tires from playing 2 ½ months on the road, and Oakland edges Texas and saves MLB from the embarrassment of a sub-.500 playoff team by winning the division with a record of 81-81.

NL East

With the Marlins and Mets rebuilding and the Phillies backsliding after their ’93 NL pennant, the NL East was a two horse race between the Expos and division newcomer Braves, since Atlanta was strangely in the NL West previously.

Montreal had the best team in franchise history with the top outfield in the NL of Moises Alou, Marquis Grissom, and Larry Walker. All the regulars in the Expos lineup were just entering their prime, as the oldest player was 3B Sean Berry at 28 years old. Of the top 4 starting pitchers, young Pedro Martinez had the highest ERA at 3.42. The bullpen 1-2 punch of John Wetteland and Mel Rojas was a factor in their 21-14 record in one run games, in contrast to the Phillies and their 12-26 mark in such contests. 

With a wild card spot in play, the Braves would not have to win at the same breakneck pace as the prior year in their race with the Giants in West. They would be able to ride their quartet of Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine, John Smoltz, and Steve Avery to a playoff berth and take their chances with their always questionable bullpen in a short series.

Result: Montreal keeps their foot on the gas and finishes with 105 wins, while the Braves cruise to 97 wins and a wild card spot locked up with over a week left in the season,

NL Central

The outlook was not positive for the Houston Astros despite being in a virtual tie with the Cincinnati Reds because of MVP 1B Jeff Bagwell suffering a season-ending broken wrist two days before the strike. With Chris Donnels and Sid Bream backing up, there would be a massive dropoff from the 213 OPS+ the future Hall of Famer provided. 

Cincinnati had a well-rounded lineup, placing 4thor higher in all key offensive categories as a team. Underrated big game pitcher Jose Rijo led the starting rotation, and there were not any notable trainwrecks in the Reds bullpen, positioning them well for their first playoff run in four years.

The Pirates were still recovering from the loss of Barry Bonds after the 1992 season, the Cubs got a 3 HR gamefrom Karl “Tuffy” Rhodes on opening day (a game they lost 12-8 anyway), and the Cardinals did almost nothing of note the entire season.

Result: Cincinnati rolls to 96 wins and the division, while Houston falls back and finishes with 89 wins. 

NL West

With realignment and the departure of Atlanta to its rightful spot in the East, the Dodgers and Giants battled for control, while the Padres and 2ndyear expansion Rockies continued to build.

Coming off a 103 win season, the Giants got almost no contributions from anyone in their lineup not named Barry Bonds or Matt Williams. The latter was famously on pace to chase Roger Maris’ then single-season record of 61 HR, but Bonds had 37 HR of his own to go with 29 SBs so he was on his way to the 2nd40-40 season in MLB history. Darryl Strawberry arrived in July and provided some pop, but would find himself under indictment for federal income tax evasion before 1994 ended. 

The pitching staff kept them competitive, but who knows if William VanLandingham and company could keep fooling hitters for another 7 weeks. San Francisco did win 20 of their last 30 which included a four game sweep of the Expos in Montreal.

The Dodgers held a 3.5 game lead, but still had six more games with Atlanta, against whom they were 0-6 to that point. Mike Piazza followed his Rookie of the Year campaign with another strong year, but Los Angeles got two outlier seasons from a couple of grizzled veterans. Tim Wallach (age 36) and Brett Butler (age 37) both set career highs in OPS, perhaps a signal that baseball was evolving into an era of inflated offensive numbers. Raul Mondesi became the 3rdstraight Dodger to win Rookie of the Year.

San Diego was rebuilding after their fire sale trades of Fred McGriff and Gary Sheffield the year before, but the story was of Tony Gwynn and his quest to hit .400. With 45 games remaining, he was on pace to have 171 more at bats based on his total to that point if he played every game, requiring him to get 71 hits in that time to finish with a .400 average. In his final 171 ABs of the ’94 season, Gwynn had 69 hits so it is far more likely that Gwynn finishes in the same range as Ted Williams in 1957 (.388) and 1980 George Brett (.390).

Colorado improved from their inaugural season and were about to move out of cavernous Mile High Stadium and into Coors Field. The strike cost them a chance to set a new single season attendance record, but the 1994 Rockies still have the highest average home attendance (57,570 per game) of any team in MLB history.

Result: The Giants claw their way back and finish tied with the Dodgers with 86 wins, leading to a one game playoff for the division, won by the Giants avenging the Dodgers eliminating them in game 162 a year earlier.

Playoffs

The original wild card playoff formatwas different and in many ways made no sense with the wild card team assigned to play a specific division winner rather than the team with the best record. The NL West champion would play the wild card, and the AL Central champion would play the AL Wild Card unless the two teams were in the same division.

ALDS1: Cleveland over NY Yankees (3-1) – The Yankees end up falling behind in the series early when manager Buck Showalter forgets that he can use his best relief pitcher on the road in a tie game in extra innings.

ALDS2: Chicago over Oakland (3-0) – The White Sox win their first playoff series in 77 years

NLDS1: Atlanta over San Francisco (3-0) – The Braves went 21-2 in NLDS play from 1995 to 2001 and this season would have been no different.

NLDS2: Montreal over Cincinnati (3-2) – Buoyed by raucous sellout crowds of hockey-starved Quebecers (due to the ongoing NHL lockout) for games 3-5 after falling down 0-2, the Expos come back and win three straight to advance to the NLCS for the first time since 1981.

ALCS: Chicago over Cleveland (4-2) – This series is mostly remembered for an incident in game 5 where young absent-minded baserunner Manny Ramirez forgot to run to 2ndbase on a would-be walkoff single in the 10th, keeping the game tied and allowing the White Sox to win in 12 innings in an incident forever known as “Manny’s Boner”. 

NLCS: Montreal over Atlanta (4-2) – After losing the first two games at home, the Expos rally to win four straight after another unfortunate national anthem incident at game 3 in Atlanta where the Canadian flag was flown upside down….again. 

World Series: Montreal over Chicago (4-2) – A costly error in game 6 by Julio Franco, playing 2ndbase in place of Joey Cora due to the lack of the DH, leads to a 5 run Montreal 3rdinning in the clincher. Canadian Larry Walker wins series MVP as the Expos become the third straight World Series winner from Canada. 

[flauntpage]

Desperate and Dangerous, Jose Aldo Lands His Greatest Knockout

It seems clear at this point that the best days of Jose Aldo are behind him, but his performance on Saturday night was nothing short of remarkable and one of the most memorable of his storied career. There is an obsession with the athletic prime in combat sports but often the greatest battles and most tear-jerking moments come when an old fighter is able to turn back the clock—perhaps just for one night—and, to paraphrase the poetry of Aldo himself, ambush the men digging his grave.

We characterized Jeremy Stephens as the perfect gatekeeper to the top five of his division. Stephens is flawed and consistently loses in the same ways, but even the very best fighters in the world must humble themselves and fight to a strict gameplan or he will simply flatten them. Jose Aldo began the fight on Saturday night by attempting to exploit many of Stephens’s habits and win a clean, controlling victory, yet it was when things went wrong and that gameplan was abandoned that the fight became an instant classic and we were all given a stern reminder of just how great Jose Aldo is.

The fight began as expected with Stephens advancing and Aldo leading him around the cage. Stephens seemed concerned enough about Aldo’s counter punches that he didn’t simply stroll toward Aldo swinging, but cautiously worked from within his stance. In the Tactical Guide we pointed out Stephens’s very predictable pattern of showing two faked jabs, or a faked right hand into a shift, to make distance before a big swing. Essentially any serious Stephens attack is preceded by a rush to try to catch the opponent along the fence, but the techniques which are supposed to force his opponent to retreat (for a smarter fighter that might be a legitimate double jab) are often just Stephens going through the motions. Renato Moicano caught Stephens with hard counters during these preliminary motions.

The fight was only a short one but Aldo seemed to be latching onto Stephens’s cadence well. After a few evasions and pot shots, Aldo would catch Stephens shifting in or throwing out that lazy, unthreatening jab and instead of moving back—as so many Stephens opponents do—he cracked Stephens with a counter and broke his advance.

Stephens has to leave his stance to perform his shifting right hand, meaning that when Aldo stood still and countered Stephens wound up getting hit in a weird in-between stance which didn’t protect him very well and reduced his ability to swing from his legs.

Aldo also tried to play with Stephens’s timing and peck at him. Aldo’s lightning fast jab is still unmatched outside of Max Holloway in the featherweight division and it annoyed Stephens in the early going, but it was only after he had felt the worst of Stephens’s power that Aldo really started to bring the jab to lever. Another nice trick Aldo used to mess with Stephens’s timing and need to set his feet was an inside low kick. After making to push kick Stephens twice when the American feinted, Aldo switched to an inside low kick as Stephens stepped in for real and pulled his lead foot out of stance before countering with a right hand.

One of the slickest applications of the inside low kick is against big right hand swingers. To transfer weight into an overhand, most power punchers will step onto their left foot, moving it both forward and to their left. The direction of the foot and the transfer of weight means that this post can be knocked out if timed with a good inside low kick. The great Thai kickboxer Buakaw used this extensively in K-1, notably against Mike Zambidis.

Much of what Jose Aldo seemed to be doing was the well tested anti-Stephens gameplan: keep Stephens turning. Stephens’s feet and hands do not coordinate well, he does not punch and move well at the same time, and whether he’s chasing around the edge of the cage or turning on a dime, he just isn’t as scary when he’s not swinging from the floor.

Here you can see Aldo using both a passive and an aggressive type of angle. In the first two instances he drifts out and circles away from Stephens, in the second he steps in to crowd Stephens and performs a tight pivot, capitalizing with a right hand as Stephens follows him around.

But Jeremy Stephens did deliver on a promise: he wasn’t scared to kick with Aldo. Fight fans wistfully recall “when Aldo kicked” but Aldo generally kicked best against “wrestle-bangers” who didn’t have any tools on the feet outside of a running overhand. Stephens kicked with Aldo and landed some good ones in the brief fight. In the build up to the fight, many fans were incredulous that Stephens claimed he would attempt to low kick Aldo, as if low-kicking with a good low-kicker were a death sentence. The truth is that nothing about being able to throw a good low kick indicates that a fighter counters a good low kick, and almost any fighter can benefit from using low kicks even against a much better kickboxer.

The kind of fighters you don’t want to be low-kicking against are the ones who are good at stepping heavily onto their lead foot and threading their right hand up the center. Jose Aldo threw one low kick against Max Holloway in their first fight and was immediately threatened with the straight right hand so he never returned to it. Getting caught on one leg is the low-kicker’s nightmare and many, many great kickboxers have been starched simply by miscalculating and letting a fighter drive through their knee as they stand on one leg. Jeremy Stephens did the same thing to Dooho Choi. Aldo kicked from a little too close in and Stephens hammered his right straight down the center line.

It was unclear how badly Aldo was caught as he had managed to roll his head with the blow, but he stumbled back and then ducked in to clinch as he so often does when he wants a break. Stephens, like Holloway before him, was ready and shucked Aldo off. Aldo covered along the fence and kept his head moving as Stephens grazed him with blows before Stephens stiff armed and snuck in an uppercut, landing the jolting right swing on Aldo’s jaw. Then, just as the conservative, cautious fighter was supposed to be at his most cautious, he began throwing back off the fence.

To master the art of combat is to try to remove all the “fight” from a professional bout. Watch film of Jose Aldo on his best days and you will see exactly what this means: there are no prolonged exchanges, Aldo barely engages unless it is on his terms, and it is more a hunt than it is a fist fight. The paradox of fighting is that the best fighters are those who remove the tit-for-tat exchanges from the menu in order to improve their chances and lengthen their careers, but it is a shared trait of all the true greats that when push comes to shove, they can fight like a wounded tiger. And when Jeremy Stephens put his uncanny power on Jose Aldo and had the old champ furrowing his brow and cornered, that was what Aldo did.

As Aldo swung back off the fence the two men stopped being top tier combat athletes and became hockey players, eyes down and swinging overhead. Nothing of what Aldo did looked crisp, it was primitive and sloppy and yet somewhere in that awkward, extended exchange, the fight reversed. As the two broke from the awkward windmill, Stephens was backing up for the first time in the fight.

Jose Aldo seemed to be out of the woods. He could return to his stick-and-move and focus on winning the next two rounds, but he did not. Instead Aldo was moving forward and throwing right hands. Slipping Stephens’s jabs or eating them, Aldo seemed almost completely uninterested in whether Stephens had hit him. Now Aldo was throwing right hand counters and leading with power punches, following one combination with another and never taking a breather like he has been prone to throughout his career. Stephens had built his own mythos—he had always clung to the idea that even though he wasn’t the best in the world, nobody could afford to trade with him—and yet faced with this angry, shaken Jose Aldo, he seemed to be flailing helplessly in the breeze.

Eating a stiff right hand, Stephens retreated a step and then decided it was time to push forward. Driving in on Aldo he swung his Sunday uppercut and a left hook which almost turned him all the way around as Aldo rebounded out of reach. As Stephens returned to his guard, Aldo tapped a right hook into the body and loaded up a left hook behind his back which smashed into Stephens’s liver and folded him in half.

The chin is something mystical—no one is quite sure how it works or what it takes to “break” a great one, but a universal truth of fighting is that even the iron-jawed brawlers can be sent into the fetal position with a good body shot. For Stephens, it must have seemed like all the air had left the cage, and as he gasped on the mat all he found to inhale was Aldo, who smothered him with an urgency he hadn’t shown in years. Stephens was never able to recover and the referee stepped in to wave off the fight.

Aldo’s more active head movement and crisper punching form aided him in the fight, and his choice to target Stephens’s body while Stephens was head hunting obviously paid off, but to pretend that Aldo gave Stephens a lesson in scientific striking would be putting lipstick on a pig. More than that it would be doing Aldo a disservice. Jose used to be so far ahead of his peers that his fights looked as though he was on cruise control, coasting until the twenty-five minutes expired. On Saturday night Aldo’s own cornerman was begging him to step back away and fight at range after he came off the fence but perhaps that is what made this fight so rewarding. On this night that automaton malfunctioned and a rage that we never got to see burst through. It was not “the Aldo of Old” or a hungry young Aldo, it was a desperate, dangerous old Aldo and if it took him slowing down a little to have to fight like that, his next few fights might be more impressive than those many title defenses in his prime.

After embracing and kissing his cornermen, Jose Aldo collapsed sobbing in the center of the cage. He had heard the months or even years of speculation over whether there was anything left of the old WEC-era Aldo, and perhaps he had even begun to ask it himself. To be called a coaster who lacked killer instinct, to be betrayed by the UFC and denied a rematch when he finally lost his title, to be considered over the hill and chinny by the vocal mixed martial arts fanbase, to not have finished a single fight since 2013, and then to win in this fashion—few moments in the short history of the UFC can compare. That was not Jose Aldo at his best, but it was most certainly Jose Aldo at his greatest.

Desperate and Dangerous, Jose Aldo Lands His Greatest Knockout published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

Desperate and Dangerous, Jose Aldo Lands His Greatest Knockout

It seems clear at this point that the best days of Jose Aldo are behind him, but his performance on Saturday night was nothing short of remarkable and one of the most memorable of his storied career. There is an obsession with the athletic prime in combat sports but often the greatest battles and most tear-jerking moments come when an old fighter is able to turn back the clock—perhaps just for one night—and, to paraphrase the poetry of Aldo himself, ambush the men digging his grave.

We characterized Jeremy Stephens as the perfect gatekeeper to the top five of his division. Stephens is flawed and consistently loses in the same ways, but even the very best fighters in the world must humble themselves and fight to a strict gameplan or he will simply flatten them. Jose Aldo began the fight on Saturday night by attempting to exploit many of Stephens’s habits and win a clean, controlling victory, yet it was when things went wrong and that gameplan was abandoned that the fight became an instant classic and we were all given a stern reminder of just how great Jose Aldo is.

The fight began as expected with Stephens advancing and Aldo leading him around the cage. Stephens seemed concerned enough about Aldo’s counter punches that he didn’t simply stroll toward Aldo swinging, but cautiously worked from within his stance. In the Tactical Guide we pointed out Stephens’s very predictable pattern of showing two faked jabs, or a faked right hand into a shift, to make distance before a big swing. Essentially any serious Stephens attack is preceded by a rush to try to catch the opponent along the fence, but the techniques which are supposed to force his opponent to retreat (for a smarter fighter that might be a legitimate double jab) are often just Stephens going through the motions. Renato Moicano caught Stephens with hard counters during these preliminary motions.

The fight was only a short one but Aldo seemed to be latching onto Stephens’s cadence well. After a few evasions and pot shots, Aldo would catch Stephens shifting in or throwing out that lazy, unthreatening jab and instead of moving back—as so many Stephens opponents do—he cracked Stephens with a counter and broke his advance.

Stephens has to leave his stance to perform his shifting right hand, meaning that when Aldo stood still and countered Stephens wound up getting hit in a weird in-between stance which didn’t protect him very well and reduced his ability to swing from his legs.

Aldo also tried to play with Stephens’s timing and peck at him. Aldo’s lightning fast jab is still unmatched outside of Max Holloway in the featherweight division and it annoyed Stephens in the early going, but it was only after he had felt the worst of Stephens’s power that Aldo really started to bring the jab to lever. Another nice trick Aldo used to mess with Stephens’s timing and need to set his feet was an inside low kick. After making to push kick Stephens twice when the American feinted, Aldo switched to an inside low kick as Stephens stepped in for real and pulled his lead foot out of stance before countering with a right hand.

One of the slickest applications of the inside low kick is against big right hand swingers. To transfer weight into an overhand, most power punchers will step onto their left foot, moving it both forward and to their left. The direction of the foot and the transfer of weight means that this post can be knocked out if timed with a good inside low kick. The great Thai kickboxer Buakaw used this extensively in K-1, notably against Mike Zambidis.

Much of what Jose Aldo seemed to be doing was the well tested anti-Stephens gameplan: keep Stephens turning. Stephens’s feet and hands do not coordinate well, he does not punch and move well at the same time, and whether he’s chasing around the edge of the cage or turning on a dime, he just isn’t as scary when he’s not swinging from the floor.

Here you can see Aldo using both a passive and an aggressive type of angle. In the first two instances he drifts out and circles away from Stephens, in the second he steps in to crowd Stephens and performs a tight pivot, capitalizing with a right hand as Stephens follows him around.

But Jeremy Stephens did deliver on a promise: he wasn’t scared to kick with Aldo. Fight fans wistfully recall “when Aldo kicked” but Aldo generally kicked best against “wrestle-bangers” who didn’t have any tools on the feet outside of a running overhand. Stephens kicked with Aldo and landed some good ones in the brief fight. In the build up to the fight, many fans were incredulous that Stephens claimed he would attempt to low kick Aldo, as if low-kicking with a good low-kicker were a death sentence. The truth is that nothing about being able to throw a good low kick indicates that a fighter counters a good low kick, and almost any fighter can benefit from using low kicks even against a much better kickboxer.

The kind of fighters you don’t want to be low-kicking against are the ones who are good at stepping heavily onto their lead foot and threading their right hand up the center. Jose Aldo threw one low kick against Max Holloway in their first fight and was immediately threatened with the straight right hand so he never returned to it. Getting caught on one leg is the low-kicker’s nightmare and many, many great kickboxers have been starched simply by miscalculating and letting a fighter drive through their knee as they stand on one leg. Jeremy Stephens did the same thing to Dooho Choi. Aldo kicked from a little too close in and Stephens hammered his right straight down the center line.

It was unclear how badly Aldo was caught as he had managed to roll his head with the blow, but he stumbled back and then ducked in to clinch as he so often does when he wants a break. Stephens, like Holloway before him, was ready and shucked Aldo off. Aldo covered along the fence and kept his head moving as Stephens grazed him with blows before Stephens stiff armed and snuck in an uppercut, landing the jolting right swing on Aldo’s jaw. Then, just as the conservative, cautious fighter was supposed to be at his most cautious, he began throwing back off the fence.

To master the art of combat is to try to remove all the “fight” from a professional bout. Watch film of Jose Aldo on his best days and you will see exactly what this means: there are no prolonged exchanges, Aldo barely engages unless it is on his terms, and it is more a hunt than it is a fist fight. The paradox of fighting is that the best fighters are those who remove the tit-for-tat exchanges from the menu in order to improve their chances and lengthen their careers, but it is a shared trait of all the true greats that when push comes to shove, they can fight like a wounded tiger. And when Jeremy Stephens put his uncanny power on Jose Aldo and had the old champ furrowing his brow and cornered, that was what Aldo did.

As Aldo swung back off the fence the two men stopped being top tier combat athletes and became hockey players, eyes down and swinging overhead. Nothing of what Aldo did looked crisp, it was primitive and sloppy and yet somewhere in that awkward, extended exchange, the fight reversed. As the two broke from the awkward windmill, Stephens was backing up for the first time in the fight.

Jose Aldo seemed to be out of the woods. He could return to his stick-and-move and focus on winning the next two rounds, but he did not. Instead Aldo was moving forward and throwing right hands. Slipping Stephens’s jabs or eating them, Aldo seemed almost completely uninterested in whether Stephens had hit him. Now Aldo was throwing right hand counters and leading with power punches, following one combination with another and never taking a breather like he has been prone to throughout his career. Stephens had built his own mythos—he had always clung to the idea that even though he wasn’t the best in the world, nobody could afford to trade with him—and yet faced with this angry, shaken Jose Aldo, he seemed to be flailing helplessly in the breeze.

Eating a stiff right hand, Stephens retreated a step and then decided it was time to push forward. Driving in on Aldo he swung his Sunday uppercut and a left hook which almost turned him all the way around as Aldo rebounded out of reach. As Stephens returned to his guard, Aldo tapped a right hook into the body and loaded up a left hook behind his back which smashed into Stephens’s liver and folded him in half.

The chin is something mystical—no one is quite sure how it works or what it takes to “break” a great one, but a universal truth of fighting is that even the iron-jawed brawlers can be sent into the fetal position with a good body shot. For Stephens, it must have seemed like all the air had left the cage, and as he gasped on the mat all he found to inhale was Aldo, who smothered him with an urgency he hadn’t shown in years. Stephens was never able to recover and the referee stepped in to wave off the fight.

Aldo’s more active head movement and crisper punching form aided him in the fight, and his choice to target Stephens’s body while Stephens was head hunting obviously paid off, but to pretend that Aldo gave Stephens a lesson in scientific striking would be putting lipstick on a pig. More than that it would be doing Aldo a disservice. Jose used to be so far ahead of his peers that his fights looked as though he was on cruise control, coasting until the twenty-five minutes expired. On Saturday night Aldo’s own cornerman was begging him to step back away and fight at range after he came off the fence but perhaps that is what made this fight so rewarding. On this night that automaton malfunctioned and a rage that we never got to see burst through. It was not “the Aldo of Old” or a hungry young Aldo, it was a desperate, dangerous old Aldo and if it took him slowing down a little to have to fight like that, his next few fights might be more impressive than those many title defenses in his prime.

After embracing and kissing his cornermen, Jose Aldo collapsed sobbing in the center of the cage. He had heard the months or even years of speculation over whether there was anything left of the old WEC-era Aldo, and perhaps he had even begun to ask it himself. To be called a coaster who lacked killer instinct, to be betrayed by the UFC and denied a rematch when he finally lost his title, to be considered over the hill and chinny by the vocal mixed martial arts fanbase, to not have finished a single fight since 2013, and then to win in this fashion—few moments in the short history of the UFC can compare. That was not Jose Aldo at his best, but it was most certainly Jose Aldo at his greatest.

Desperate and Dangerous, Jose Aldo Lands His Greatest Knockout syndicated from https://australiahoverboards.wordpress.com

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Desperate and Dangerous, Jose Aldo Lands His Greatest Knockout

It seems clear at this point that the best days of Jose Aldo are behind him, but his performance on Saturday night was nothing short of remarkable and one of the most memorable of his storied career. There is an obsession with the athletic prime in combat sports but often the greatest battles and most tear-jerking moments come when an old fighter is able to turn back the clock—perhaps just for one night—and, to paraphrase the poetry of Aldo himself, ambush the men digging his grave.

We characterized Jeremy Stephens as the perfect gatekeeper to the top five of his division. Stephens is flawed and consistently loses in the same ways, but even the very best fighters in the world must humble themselves and fight to a strict gameplan or he will simply flatten them. Jose Aldo began the fight on Saturday night by attempting to exploit many of Stephens’s habits and win a clean, controlling victory, yet it was when things went wrong and that gameplan was abandoned that the fight became an instant classic and we were all given a stern reminder of just how great Jose Aldo is.

The fight began as expected with Stephens advancing and Aldo leading him around the cage. Stephens seemed concerned enough about Aldo’s counter punches that he didn’t simply stroll toward Aldo swinging, but cautiously worked from within his stance. In the Tactical Guide we pointed out Stephens’s very predictable pattern of showing two faked jabs, or a faked right hand into a shift, to make distance before a big swing. Essentially any serious Stephens attack is preceded by a rush to try to catch the opponent along the fence, but the techniques which are supposed to force his opponent to retreat (for a smarter fighter that might be a legitimate double jab) are often just Stephens going through the motions. Renato Moicano caught Stephens with hard counters during these preliminary motions.

The fight was only a short one but Aldo seemed to be latching onto Stephens’s cadence well. After a few evasions and pot shots, Aldo would catch Stephens shifting in or throwing out that lazy, unthreatening jab and instead of moving back—as so many Stephens opponents do—he cracked Stephens with a counter and broke his advance.

Stephens has to leave his stance to perform his shifting right hand, meaning that when Aldo stood still and countered Stephens wound up getting hit in a weird in-between stance which didn’t protect him very well and reduced his ability to swing from his legs.

Aldo also tried to play with Stephens’s timing and peck at him. Aldo’s lightning fast jab is still unmatched outside of Max Holloway in the featherweight division and it annoyed Stephens in the early going, but it was only after he had felt the worst of Stephens’s power that Aldo really started to bring the jab to lever. Another nice trick Aldo used to mess with Stephens’s timing and need to set his feet was an inside low kick. After making to push kick Stephens twice when the American feinted, Aldo switched to an inside low kick as Stephens stepped in for real and pulled his lead foot out of stance before countering with a right hand.

One of the slickest applications of the inside low kick is against big right hand swingers. To transfer weight into an overhand, most power punchers will step onto their left foot, moving it both forward and to their left. The direction of the foot and the transfer of weight means that this post can be knocked out if timed with a good inside low kick. The great Thai kickboxer Buakaw used this extensively in K-1, notably against Mike Zambidis.

Much of what Jose Aldo seemed to be doing was the well tested anti-Stephens gameplan: keep Stephens turning. Stephens’s feet and hands do not coordinate well, he does not punch and move well at the same time, and whether he’s chasing around the edge of the cage or turning on a dime, he just isn’t as scary when he’s not swinging from the floor.

Here you can see Aldo using both a passive and an aggressive type of angle. In the first two instances he drifts out and circles away from Stephens, in the second he steps in to crowd Stephens and performs a tight pivot, capitalizing with a right hand as Stephens follows him around.

But Jeremy Stephens did deliver on a promise: he wasn’t scared to kick with Aldo. Fight fans wistfully recall “when Aldo kicked” but Aldo generally kicked best against “wrestle-bangers” who didn’t have any tools on the feet outside of a running overhand. Stephens kicked with Aldo and landed some good ones in the brief fight. In the build up to the fight, many fans were incredulous that Stephens claimed he would attempt to low kick Aldo, as if low-kicking with a good low-kicker were a death sentence. The truth is that nothing about being able to throw a good low kick indicates that a fighter counters a good low kick, and almost any fighter can benefit from using low kicks even against a much better kickboxer.

The kind of fighters you don’t want to be low-kicking against are the ones who are good at stepping heavily onto their lead foot and threading their right hand up the center. Jose Aldo threw one low kick against Max Holloway in their first fight and was immediately threatened with the straight right hand so he never returned to it. Getting caught on one leg is the low-kicker’s nightmare and many, many great kickboxers have been starched simply by miscalculating and letting a fighter drive through their knee as they stand on one leg. Jeremy Stephens did the same thing to Dooho Choi. Aldo kicked from a little too close in and Stephens hammered his right straight down the center line.

It was unclear how badly Aldo was caught as he had managed to roll his head with the blow, but he stumbled back and then ducked in to clinch as he so often does when he wants a break. Stephens, like Holloway before him, was ready and shucked Aldo off. Aldo covered along the fence and kept his head moving as Stephens grazed him with blows before Stephens stiff armed and snuck in an uppercut, landing the jolting right swing on Aldo’s jaw. Then, just as the conservative, cautious fighter was supposed to be at his most cautious, he began throwing back off the fence.

To master the art of combat is to try to remove all the “fight” from a professional bout. Watch film of Jose Aldo on his best days and you will see exactly what this means: there are no prolonged exchanges, Aldo barely engages unless it is on his terms, and it is more a hunt than it is a fist fight. The paradox of fighting is that the best fighters are those who remove the tit-for-tat exchanges from the menu in order to improve their chances and lengthen their careers, but it is a shared trait of all the true greats that when push comes to shove, they can fight like a wounded tiger. And when Jeremy Stephens put his uncanny power on Jose Aldo and had the old champ furrowing his brow and cornered, that was what Aldo did.

As Aldo swung back off the fence the two men stopped being top tier combat athletes and became hockey players, eyes down and swinging overhead. Nothing of what Aldo did looked crisp, it was primitive and sloppy and yet somewhere in that awkward, extended exchange, the fight reversed. As the two broke from the awkward windmill, Stephens was backing up for the first time in the fight.

Jose Aldo seemed to be out of the woods. He could return to his stick-and-move and focus on winning the next two rounds, but he did not. Instead Aldo was moving forward and throwing right hands. Slipping Stephens’s jabs or eating them, Aldo seemed almost completely uninterested in whether Stephens had hit him. Now Aldo was throwing right hand counters and leading with power punches, following one combination with another and never taking a breather like he has been prone to throughout his career. Stephens had built his own mythos—he had always clung to the idea that even though he wasn’t the best in the world, nobody could afford to trade with him—and yet faced with this angry, shaken Jose Aldo, he seemed to be flailing helplessly in the breeze.

Eating a stiff right hand, Stephens retreated a step and then decided it was time to push forward. Driving in on Aldo he swung his Sunday uppercut and a left hook which almost turned him all the way around as Aldo rebounded out of reach. As Stephens returned to his guard, Aldo tapped a right hook into the body and loaded up a left hook behind his back which smashed into Stephens’s liver and folded him in half.

The chin is something mystical—no one is quite sure how it works or what it takes to “break” a great one, but a universal truth of fighting is that even the iron-jawed brawlers can be sent into the fetal position with a good body shot. For Stephens, it must have seemed like all the air had left the cage, and as he gasped on the mat all he found to inhale was Aldo, who smothered him with an urgency he hadn’t shown in years. Stephens was never able to recover and the referee stepped in to wave off the fight.

Aldo’s more active head movement and crisper punching form aided him in the fight, and his choice to target Stephens’s body while Stephens was head hunting obviously paid off, but to pretend that Aldo gave Stephens a lesson in scientific striking would be putting lipstick on a pig. More than that it would be doing Aldo a disservice. Jose used to be so far ahead of his peers that his fights looked as though he was on cruise control, coasting until the twenty-five minutes expired. On Saturday night Aldo’s own cornerman was begging him to step back away and fight at range after he came off the fence but perhaps that is what made this fight so rewarding. On this night that automaton malfunctioned and a rage that we never got to see burst through. It was not “the Aldo of Old” or a hungry young Aldo, it was a desperate, dangerous old Aldo and if it took him slowing down a little to have to fight like that, his next few fights might be more impressive than those many title defenses in his prime.

After embracing and kissing his cornermen, Jose Aldo collapsed sobbing in the center of the cage. He had heard the months or even years of speculation over whether there was anything left of the old WEC-era Aldo, and perhaps he had even begun to ask it himself. To be called a coaster who lacked killer instinct, to be betrayed by the UFC and denied a rematch when he finally lost his title, to be considered over the hill and chinny by the vocal mixed martial arts fanbase, to not have finished a single fight since 2013, and then to win in this fashion—few moments in the short history of the UFC can compare. That was not Jose Aldo at his best, but it was most certainly Jose Aldo at his greatest.

Desperate and Dangerous, Jose Aldo Lands His Greatest Knockout published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/